If someone would have told me that attending the Mass with Pope Francis at the World Meeting of Families entailed 6 months of planning only to ride 13 hours on a bus both ways, stand in line for 5 hours next to complete strangers, to not lay eyes on the pope, nor to receive the Eucharist, I probably would have said, “No, thanks.” But, thank goodness God doesn’t tell us how he’s going to pour out his grace upon us. I was eager to go on this pilgrimage because of the exciting unknowns, but my experience far exceeded any anticipated joy I would share in this nearly unfathomable experience of the universal Church.

As Fr. Pete said at our pre-departure meetings, in order to embark on this pilgrimage, we have to have a deeper reason for going than merely wanting to get a photo of the pope. I was mostly looking forward to branching out of my comfort zone to be reminded of how universal the Church really is, to experience humanity united by Christ through Pope Francis. It is easy to be content with where we are in our own faith community, and sometimes I forget that the Church is a life outside of this comfort.

I may not have received the Eucharist at the Mass, but God took my desire to experience the universal Church and multiplied it in a way I never could have imagined. I was blessed to have a ticket to the section closer to the sanctuary, but security was so backed up that my friend Clara and I didn’t get into the Benjamin Franklin Memorial Parkway until the end of the distribution of Communion. Until then, we stood in line with 10,000 people, 3 of whom we got to know fairly well.

The first is Rose. After seeing the back of my shirt and asking me about Notre Dame, she talked to me for about 45 minutes straight, just openly sharing her life with me. She is clearly a talker but was alone at the Mass. She is lost in suffering, doubting God and humanity, but clearly has faith. I offered what I could- my experience of faith through suffering- but she seemed pessimistic toward what I shared. At one point I offered her my rosary.

At the same time, Clara was getting to know a 9-year-old boy named Parker and his mother, Jordan. Parker knew he wanted to be a priest at age 7, when he started to attend a Catholic school. He calls his religion class Theology, “plays Mass” at home, raised $3,000 to bring his mom to the World Meeting of Families, (Catholic News Agency featured him in an article), and… is set on being the first American pope. And, this isn’t just a childlike dream. This boy is the most intelligent, fascinating 9-year-old I have met. And Jordan is one compassionate mother who clearly has had a role in Parker’s formation but recognizes that his desire to meet and be the pope is something given to him by Another.

As we slowly moved closer to the security checkpoint, we heard the choir sing the opening hymn of the Mass. There was not a jumbo-screen in sight. Talk about believing- knowing- without seeing. Experiencing the Mass half a mile away from the altar was perhaps more beautiful for me than it would have been had security moved more quickly for us to see Pope Francis at a distance and up close on a screen. While we couldn’t hear as clearly the pope’s words, we could hear the booming echoes of the liturgical music. I sensed the Mass with all of my being.

Hearing the sound of a bell indicating that the mystery of transubstantiation had taken place. Looking down at Parker’s beaming face at the recognition that Christ just came again. Singing the Our Father and exchanging the Sign of Peace with those huddled around me. Rose tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “You know, I’m realizing that whatever God wills in my life will happen, and I have to accept it. We have to accept the gifts offered to us. If you’re still offering, may I have your rosary?” Tears streamed down my face after I gratefully handed my rosary to her and began to sing Agnus Dei. She received something more than a rosary or a listening ear or a few consoling words from me that day, but a piece of my experience of Christ living through me. I have never been more aware of who I am than I was in that moment. I was living the life of the Church.

As we neared the security checkpoint, we saw the number of Vatican umbrellas in the crowd ahead slowly dwindle. These umbrellas indicated where priests stood distributing Communion. After saying our goodbyes to our new friends and making it past security, Clara and I sprinted toward the last umbrella. I literally sprinted toward Christ, despite all my pain from being on my feet the whole day. My desire for the Eucharist had never been so strong. While we still were not able to receive Communion, this experience of desiring renewed me. It will shape how I approach the Eucharist at the next Mass I attend. As will the blessing from the Pope at the end of the Mass, whom I finally got to see pictured on a distant jumbo-screen. I am amazed by how my humanity (my desire for Christ) was awakened by another human face (Pope Francis).

Earlier in the day I walked past a beggar on the street and thought how I wished I had joined a couple of my friends who stopped to speak with him and ask him his name. That was an opportunity to get out of my comfort zone and meet Christ in that moment, but I scurried past it. Fast-forward to hour’s later standing in line for the subway after the Mass. This time, I met a beggar on the sidewalk. His name is Ali. I offered him a granola bar, which he not only gratefully accepted but also wanted to return the favor. He offered me a sandwich. In his poverty he offered me something. I insisted that he keep it for himself. Restless, he offered me a Papal Visit bracelet. As I accepted it and began to wish him well, he unwrapped his rosary from his arm and gave it to me. A rosary.

Ali said that this rosary had been blessed. He prayed over it. He said the Angel Gabriel prayed over it. He does not know my affinity for praying the Angelus. Later I turned over the cross of this rosary to find the word “Medjugorje” inscribed on it. Ali also does not know of my desire to pilgrimage to Medjugorje, in Bosnia-Herzegovina, to visit the apparition site of Our Lady Queen of Peace. Again tears streamed down my face as I recalled Rose and Ali and the beautiful interconnectedness of the life of the Church.

Earlier while waiting in line during Mass, some people near me were streaming the celebration live on their phones. I caught a couple lines of the pope’s homily: “Faith opens a ‘window’ to the presence and working of the Spirit. It shows us that, like happiness, holiness is always tied to little gestures. ‘Whoever gives you a cup of water in my name will not go unrewarded’, says Jesus (cf. Mk 9:41) … [Jesus] asks us to go through life, our everyday life, encouraging all these little signs of love as signs of his own living and active presence in our world.”

Leading up to the trip, we as a tri-campus community sought what it means to imitate Pope Francis’ spirituality: living lives of simplicity, gratitude, presence, dependence, service, and renewal. For me, all of these virtues culminated on this pilgrimage and will continue to inform my prayer that I hope will be translated into a life of growing in faith. I thank God for the people given to me on this pilgrimage who made known to me the beauty of these virtues expressed through the Church: the drivers and people on our bus, John Paul and our Campus Ministry team, Clara, Erin, all of the eager people on this pilgrimage for that matter, my friends with whom I shared breakfast and walked around Philly, the tour guide in Independence Hall whose passion filled me with gratitude for this place of liberty, Rose, Parker, Jordan, Ali, the people on the subway… and, of course, Pope Francis.

The Church is a life that lives on. This fact is evident in the way people were together in line for not only the Mass but also the subway on which they continued to share their experiences together. A blind man insisted that his wife take his seat on the subway while he stood. A group of pilgrims led each other in Spanish song and praise. A Catholic convert named Elizabeth who overheard my and Clara’s conversation about our day thanked us in her amazement of how we processed our experiences. She introduced us to her husband and shared a piece of her story with us.

The gratitude from students on this pilgrimage reminds me that it ultimately is God who made this all possible. The fact that this pilgrimage happened is a sure sign that God is happening right now, because our team couldn’t have planned this alone. As it turns out, no one from our core Campus Ministry team had the chance to see Pope Francis in person. We all experienced the life of the Church on the periphery, literally. This is amazing because as we prepared for this pilgrimage, we all had the desire to understand what it means to live Pope Francis’ call to be with those on the periphery.

Hearing other students describe their surreal experiences of seeing Pope Francis during the Papal Parade and receiving Communion during the Mass made, for me, this experience and the work put into it completely worth it. And on top of this, I was blessed in my own experience with grace and joy that I could have never anticipated or created for myself. I recognize again that it was not made possible by me alone or even my team or Campus Ministry alone, but by God himself. This pilgrimage has indeed changed me, and thus it is not just a trip; this experience of the universal Body of Christ far greater than myself will continue to play out in the course of my life.