The Eucharistic Congress: Who is the U.S. Church For?

Last month, the U.S. Catholic Church witnessed its first national Eucharistic Congress since 1976. Attendees of various stripes had positive things to say about the event, which comes in a rich tradition of such unifying events. Yet it has come under just criticism about the expense spared for it particularly when the leaders of the Bishops’ Conference have cynically cut funds from social justice initiatives after the body of bishops voted not to eliminate them. Its speaker lineup and overall ethos, as well as the sponsorships by schools and organizations, also highlighted the selective engagement of the U.S. bishops and their leadership with the church in the U.S.

The highlighted speakers at the event represented what might be termed, fairly or unfairly, a broad “center right” of the U.S. Church. Rev. Mike Schmitz and Bishop Robert Barron exemplify this example both in their approach to evangelism and their shared interest in outreach to young men through activities like bodybuilding. The overall speaker list was more diverse in various respects, including figures such as Gloria Purvis, who has spoken out against racism within and without the church at the cost of her job for an EWTN-owned radio station. A few academic theologians, such as the excellent Hosffman Ospino of Boston College, were featured. The overall approach nevertheless seemed geared to avoid ruffling feathers in conservative-leaning sectors of the church. The LGBTQ community was not publicly represented (and not for lack of interest), with a group of priests attempting to bring forward a message of inclusion denied a booth at the congress. As Rev. Bruce Morrill pointed out in an essay about the Congress for Outreach, there is no inherent tension between “traditional” devotional practices and “progressive” social causes within the church.

The most notable exception to the general tendency of featured speakers was Dorothy Day’s granddaughter Martha Hennessy, following in the footsteps of Day herself who spoke alongside Mother Teresa of Calcutta (and protested a Mass for the military in what turned out to be her final public appearance) at the 1976 Congress. It was very good that she appeared, although the invitation and association of the congress with Day’s legacy may have been a sign of precisely the taming of holiness that Day remarked upon when she famously asked not to be called a saint because she did not want to be dismissed that easily. Hennessy’s presence and talk emphasizing the connection between the Eucharist and the works of mercy brought a small touch of radicalism to what was essentially an upper-middle-class event in its cost ($360 per person to attend, $99 even to listen to podcast versions of the talks in retrospect) and aesthetic (specially-produced craft beers and other foods at the “Eucharistic café”).

The Eucharistic Congress brought an intensive focus on the liturgical-devotional practice of Eucharistic exposition and adoration. This practice, which has been on the rise since the 1990s after a period of relative de-emphasis following the implementation of Vatican II, is certainly a positive one with spiritual benefits as Morrill’s essay mentioned above points out. Yet it is as central to Eucharistic theology or devotion as its emphasis at the congress might lead one to believe. Certainly, the Mass was also heavily featured as it ought to be, but the overall atmosphere had more of a devotional and catechetical emphasis than that of a “church that goes forth” as Pope Francis has repeatedly called for. On this note, the dynamics around the Eucharistic Congress were also not helped by the naïve catechetical language about the real presence that surrounded the congress; speaking of the Eucharistic Host and “Jesus” interchangeably might be appropriate for a small child but is bad sacramental theology when presented to adults.

Why was the Eucharistic Congress so selective in who it engaged and how it engaged them? Barron’s reflection on the congress, in which he includes a critique of liberalism, gives a good sense of this. For many bishops, “real” Catholics are conservatives, particularly on social issues surrounding gender, sexuality and family, and they have shaped a church whose appeal tends in this direction. On one level they are not wrong—surveys have shown an increased correlation between religiosity and conservatism. Yet their activities have leaned into this correlation rather than complicated it. Questioning such an approach is not a matter of making the church safe for liberals but rather seeking an open church that actively works at including all who come in good faith.

The most durable contribution of the 1976 Eucharistic Congress—and a reminder of the shift in emphasis from then to now—was Omer Westendorf’s “Gift of Finest Wheat,” still a staple of the musical repertoire at numerous parishes across the country. That congress was a demonstration of the continuing (perhaps false given the rampant clerical sexual abuse and coverup in that era) vitality of the U.S. church even while post-Vatican II divisions rocked it. This year’s congress may serve as an epitaph to a period in which the bishops sought to consolidate a declining church suffering from the self-inflicted wounds of the sexual abuse scandal and alienation of many Catholics by politics inside and outside the church. They have sought to do so on their terms, with their preferred institutions, and with disregard for Pope Francis and his agenda. While the Eucharistic Congress succeeded by many lights, their overall agenda has flailed. May there be a new one soon.

---

Daniel A. Rober is a systematic theologian and Catholic studies professor at Sacred Heart University.