Tuesday June 17th: The high call of the Christian
June 17, 2025
Macaroni pie, a handbag, and the Body of Christ
June 17, 2025
Q: Archbishop J, why the hype around the big monstrance?
In an age ruled by screens and short attention spans, how do we direct the eyes and hearts of our people to what truly matters: worship of the living God? This question is more than theoretical. It is pastoral, cultural, and deeply spiritual. And it is urgent.
Reawakening the Catholic imagination
We live in a world flooded with images. Our attention is pulled in 100 directions each hour, often away from God, rarely toward Him. Within this image-saturated world, the Church must be intentional about forming what we call the ‘Catholic imagination’—the inner vision that allows us to see the world as God sees it and to perceive His presence in ordinary life.
Catholic imagination is shaped not only by doctrine but also by symbol, ritual, story, music and beauty. It is deeply incarnational. It trains us to find grace in the concrete, to touch mystery through material signs.
This imagination is sustained by culture. And Catholic culture rests on three interwoven strands: beliefs, values, and practices.
Beliefs are foundational—what we hold to be true. Values flow from those beliefs—what we hold to be important. And practices are the rituals and habits that embody those beliefs and values in daily life.
After Vatican II, while the beliefs remained sound, many devotional and liturgical practices were abandoned or faded. Weekly Confession, for example, was once routine. Now, for many Catholics, it is rare. This loss of practice weakened our values, and with it, our capacity to imagine the world through faith.
In 2023, our vicars discerned that part of our pastoral renewal must involve restoring Catholic practices. The Archdiocesan Pastoral Council and our Heads of Commissions confirmed this need.
Since then, many parishes have reintroduced rhythms of Eucharistic Adoration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation. And the people have responded. In one parish, on First Friday, three priests heard Confessions until dawn. The hunger is real.
What we believe—God is near, Christ is present, grace is offered—must be supported by what we do. When our practices align with our beliefs, the imagination is formed. And with imagination awakened, faith deepens and joy returns.
Jesus at the centre
At the heart of all our practices is a Person, Jesus Christ. He is not a concept or a historical figure. He is alive and present in the Eucharist.
Our faith tells us that the Eucharist is not a symbol but a reality. “In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist,” the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) teaches, “the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ—and therefore the whole Christ—is truly, really, and substantially contained” (CCC 1374).
Jesus Himself said, “My flesh is real food, and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in them” (Jn 6:55–56). In the Eucharist, we do not merely remember Christ; we encounter Him.
When we adore the Eucharist, we are not gazing at bread. We are gazing at Him.
The ‘Big Jesus’ and the power of scale
Even before the Eucharistic Congress, Fr Jesse Maingot OP conceived of a big monstrance. He was of the firm belief that the Lord wanted to come to His people in a “grand way”, that they would be able to grasp His majesty and the greatness of His presence. This came together with the logistics of thousands of people gathered at the Queen’s Park Oval.
The solution was to create a large, beautiful monstrance—what has affectionately been called ‘Big Jesus’. It was designed to elevate the Host and allow the faithful to see Him from a distance. This has become something much more: a powerful symbol that stirred hearts.
Of course, Jesus is just as present in a small monstrance as in a large one. What changed was the experience of people. The scale helped people grasp the majesty and centrality of the Eucharist. The grandeur helped them focus. It captured their imagination. This was conceived in the Catholic imagination and birthed for the Congress.
This is not new in the Church. Our tradition has always used art, architecture, incense, music, and sacred vessels to lift the soul to God.
In Santiago de Compostela, a massive thurible, the Botafumeiro, swings through the cathedral, stunning pilgrims. In Fatima, Lourdes, and Aparecida, crowds gather around images and processions that speak to something more profound than words.
These are not distractions. They are invitations. They help us perceive what the heart already knows—that Christ is worthy of all reverence and awe.
The beauty of popular religiosity
In the lead-up to the Congress, and especially during Adoration, I witnessed a profound and raw faith. People stretched out their hands, tears streamed down faces, voices sang with abandon. It wasn’t always tidy. But it was real.
Some may question these expressions. They are intense, emotional, sometimes unpredictable. But they reflect a deep thirst for God. And that thirst is holy.
The Latin American and Caribbean bishops, in the Aparecida document, called popular religiosity “a precious treasure of the Catholic Church”. It is, they said, “a thirst for God which only the poor and simple can know,” and “an expression of faith deeply inculturated in our peoples” (258).
This thirst is not always expressed in liturgical gestures or theological categories with which we are familiar. But in this moment, it is necessary that we dwell in our discomfort and not rush to tidy things up too quickly.
If you witnessed the reaching for the veil, the sleeve of the priest carrying the monstrance, you would have seen the Gospel scene of Jesus healing the woman with the haemorrhage.
There was a thirst for Jesus. People were all around Him, reaching out—not politely or passively, but with desperate faith. He did not shield Himself. He allowed Himself to be touched.
That raw emotion, that longing, that hunger and thirst for Christ—that is what I saw. People woke up to the reality that Jesus is truly, really, and substantially present in the Eucharist. And they wanted to touch Him. They wanted more of Him.
If we long for a neat, safe, antiseptic Church, we will miss the mess and mercy of the field hospital Pope Francis spoke about. What we witnessed was the wounded coming to be healed. And Jesus simply says: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28).
Rhythms that sustain the soul.
The renewal of Eucharistic devotion is not about events alone. It is about rhythm. Daily prayer, regular Confession, and reverent participation in Mass must once again become part of the fabric of Catholic life. These are not optional extras; they are the soil in which faith grows.
If we want our children and grandchildren to know Jesus, we must give them the tools to find Him: sacred spaces, clear teaching, and, above all, regular encounters. Jesus is not hiding. He is waiting.
The rhythm of Adoration is especially important. It slows us down. It opens the soul. It trains us to listen. Whether for ten minutes or an hour, time spent before the Blessed Sacrament is never wasted.
Key Message:
‘Big Jesus’ has fired the religious imagination of our people in a way I have not seen in a long time. The hunger and thirst it revealed must not be ignored. These are signs of a living, popular faith; one that needs to be nurtured, protected, and discerned.
Action Step:
Visit a chapel. Spend time in Adoration. Let the silence speak. Let your heart be drawn to His heart.
Scripture Reading:
Matthew 11:25–28
