A Moment of Amazing Grace: Christ the King Reigns in New York City

How God's Grace catches us when we least expect it

Jeffrey Bruno

Dec 02, 2023

I was fighting to hold back the tears.

It's just that I'd never been in a situation like this before, and the feelings in my heart were overwhelming…

But let me start at the beginning.

It was this past Sunday, November 26. The Solemnity of Christ the King.

I went to cover a Mass and Eucharistic Procession with the Dominican Friars traveling from St. Vincent Ferrer Church on the Upper East Side to St. Patrick's Cathedral in Midtown.

Rain was predicted, but the sun was peeking out from behind the dark clouds, giving rise to the hope that it would miss us. But I had raingear in any event.

I found a parking spot near St. Patrick's because it makes more sense to park where a procession ends, or so I'm told.

The streets were empty except for the lone jogger and the pigeons pecking at the sidewalk. Pecking at what, I couldn't fathom, but I had a 16-block walk to reflect on that.

As I approached the Gothic-styled Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, the cloud-darkened sky made it look genuinely "goth" in the pop-culture sense. Andy Warhol used to attend daily Mass here, too. But that's another story.

In the distance, I could see the heavy wooden doors swing open as the early morning Massgoers exited onto Lexington Avenue.

A scene that's been repeated innumerable times since the first time they opened in 1918.

The bells struck noon and Mass began.

The Pontifical Mass for the Solemnity of Christ the King was celebrated by Bishop Colacicco. And the choir sounded as if the gates of heaven opened, and the angels and Saints joined in.

And then there was the homily.

The Bishop relayed a story about an attack on the Blessed Sacrament at St. Patrick's Cathedral when John Cardinal O'Connor was present.

It was a heartbreaking account of the Cardinal's love for Christ in the Blessed Sacrament and the agony he suffered when the Cathedral was defiled and the Blessed Sacrament abused.

You could hear a pin drop.

No photograph could ever do that justice.

St. Vincent Ferrer Church on Lexington Ave. in Manhattan as Mass for the Solemnity of Christ the King.

As the Mass concluded, the Luna, which holds the Blessed Sacrament, was placed within the Monstrance in preparation for the procession. The congregation formed in the brisk air of 67th Street alongside the Knights of Malta and the Legion of Mary.

And with the tip of the hat from one of New York's Finest, the procession rolled out towards Central Park.

Whispered prayers and rosaries prayed could be heard as I drifted through the crowds. A palpable sense of the Church triumphant on this, the Solemnity of Christ the King, was appropriately manifest.

Edging down Fifth Avenue, passing gawking tourists, jaded New Yorkers, and hot dog carts, the procession drew the attention of all.

Pedestrians silently passed, raising their eyes and outing themselves as Catholic by signing themselves with the cross. And countless cell phones raised high to record the spectacle out of reverence or curiosity.

As the procession neared its destination, it crossed Fifth Avenue to the broad sidewalk in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Security personnel pushed open the towering main doors and held back the crowds of spectators so that Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament could enter.

It was a scene of organized chaos, and I was lost in the moment.

…absorbed in every detail.

Except one.

I had been feverishly photographing for the past 3 hours. Looking for 'the shot' and trying not to get run over by a taxi.

But upon entering the Cathedral, I found myself boxed in and out of sorts. To the right and left were rope lines and security blocking the crowds and cutting off access to the side isles…

I was in the middle of the procession.

I was part of the procession…

I glanced over my shoulder, and I saw the Blessed Sacrament.

I stopped cold.

I lowered my camera, and then I realized.

The entire day I'd spent with a camera pressed against my face, looking but not seeing.

Finally, I saw

Finally, I knew

It was when I stopped that I remembered why I was there at all…

Because of Christ.

I was processing up the central aisle in the Cathedral I'd photographed a thousand times before. No longer as a photographer. No longer as a journalist. But as a follower of Jesus Christ

And my tears were met with the revelation that this is what matters most.

The words and pictures from the day are fine, but if they didn't give glory to Him in some way, they'd be pointless.

In the moment, I was living St. Paul's words, "For his sake, I have accepted the loss of all things, and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ."

As I broke off from the group at the foot of the altar, I looked up as the Blessed Sacrament passed, my heart overcome with joy.

What a gift.

What a breathtaking gift.

I may not be able to convince everyone with my words that the Catholic faith is True, that God is real, or that Jesus Christ is present in the Eucharist.

But if you could read the story of my heart, you'd know.

And you'd leave everything and run into His waiting arms and receive the Grace He longs to give.

His Amazing Grace.