It was a brisk day in January. Hundreds of thousands had gathered for the National March for Life in Washington, D.C., which was by far the largest event I had ever photographed. It left me wondering – how in the world was I supposed to capture one of the most moving, peaceful marches out there?
Crowded alongside hundreds of high schoolers from the Diocese of Columbus and the Diocese of Toledo, we piled into the underground Crypt Church at the Basilica of the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception for Mass.
As I took in my surroundings, I was struck by the depth of mood in the sanctuary. Being an underground church, I knew I wouldn’t be able to rely on much natural light. However, the atmosphere created by the incandescent lightbulbs gave way to the heavenly reality we were about to experience.
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I sat in the furthest back pew, my usual post, and continued to absorb the beauty of the mosaics, the architecture and the warm light that cascaded over the rich, amber pews.
About 10 minutes before Mass, I saw Bishop Fernandes speedily walking toward me, fully vested, looking as though he needed to ask me something. He asked me if I had everything I needed to coordinate photography for the day. I agreed, thanked him, returned to my post, and continued to prep my camera for the environment.
Something made me pause. The lingering of someone’s presence was still near. I looked over to the right in the pew in front of me and witnessed a rare scene. Bishop Fernandes had proceeded to kneel, took off his glasses, and caressed his head in his hand.
In nearly all of the events and moments I photograph with Bishop Fernandes, he has a beaming smile, joyful to be with the faithful around him, showcasing the love and peace of Christ everywhere he goes. This moment proved to be drastically different.
Almost startled, it took me a minute to collect my thoughts, as I contemplated what might have been plaguing his mind. The always joyful shepherd suddenly bore the weight of the cross.
I realized I still had my camera in my hands. Do I capture this moment? Do I let the moment pass? This was a unique moment that gave a glimpse into the heart of our shepherd, who lays down his life for the Lord and for the faithful.
Knowing I only had a few precious moments and moved by the Holy Spirit, I framed the photo in my viewfinder. I let the pews do the work of bringing the focus to Bishop Fernandes with strong leading lines. The surrounding marble structure’s heaviness echoed the physical, mental, and emotional weight he was feeling. I lined him up on the right side of the photo to meet the rule of thirds principal used often in photography, waited patiently as the high schoolers glided past, and swiftly pressed the shutter. My eyes watered from behind the camera, as I imagined how much our shepherd carries that many of us are not aware.
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Later in conversation, Bishop Fernandes shared with me that in that moment , he experienced the gravity of the countless lives lost to abortion. He was on the brink of tears because of the grace the Lord had bestowed to allow him to carry this weight. He also mentioned the great consolation of the mercy of the Father amidst this sorrow.
The magnitude of knowing what was going through his mind provided a window into more of what Bishop Fernandes encounters in his daily life.
How beautiful it is that we have a shepherd who is so deeply moved by Jesus’ heart for the world that he experiences the ache of suffering similar to Jesus on the cross. That moment stayed with me as I walked away, photographed the entirety of the Mass, proceeded to the march and witnessed hundreds of thousands from across the country come together for the sake of life. I was so concerned with trying to capture the largest event I’ve had to date, but the most impactful moment wasn’t among the large crowds. It was in the quiet of prayer and contemplation, felt by our shepherd, captured through His lens.
‘Through His Lens’ is a column in The Catholic Times documenting the personal experience of diocesan photographer and team member of the Diocese of Columbus Office of Communications, Sarah Lightle.