O Father Where Art Thou?

Such unorthodoxy worries some church leaders, but it satisfies the yearnings of millions of people who prefer to chart their own spiritual course, getting help and guidance along the way from websites or the new age shelves at the local bookstore. They may be the toughest crowd for the traditional church, which seems to acknowledge the need to adapt to modernity, but just isn't willing to bend that far. "The church needs to enter modern culture and to get to know modern culture," says Godfried Cardinal Danneels, Archbishop of Brussels and Mechelen. "But it's a mistake to think that we should try to attract more people by diluting our message."

Last Sunday was Pentecost, which marks the moment nearly 2,000 years ago when, according to the Bible, the Holy Spirit gave the apostles the ability to share the gospel in all different languages. "When they heard this sound," the Book of Acts says, "a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them speaking in his own language." Pope Paul VI said Pentecost is not a one-day event, but an ongoing, much-needed phenomenon. The challenge for today's church is to translate the Christian faith into the life languages of modern Europe, a place more pluralistic and liberal than ever. "Through the centuries the church has found ways of expressing the dogmas of the faith that are relevant to changes in the society," says a senior Vatican official. But what does that mean in practice? Should the Catholic Church honor the humanity of its clergy — and bolster their shrinking ranks — by allowing its priests to marry? What stances should denominations take on divorces or homosexuality or the other realities of modern life? "Religion can make the good better and the bad worse," says Cardinal Danneels. "Religious leaders have a tremendous responsibility in guiding their flock." How do you do it when the flock isn't even sure it wants to be guided?

The obstacles are enormous. But at the very least, it's encouraging that the church "is conscious of its own sinfulness and frailties," says Ireland's Bishop Walsh. "We now have a more open and honest church." The faithful can take heart, too, from the knowledge that, while their God may not be in the E.U. constitution, He's still all over Europe.

The faith endures, even in places like Chartres. "We cannot close the door on people," says Father Emile Manuel, who has been serving there since 1948. Even as visitors are wowed by what the cavernous cathedral is — a magnificent example of human handiwork — rather than what it was meant to be — a tribute to God — "we have made a church within a church." Twice each day, they build it all over again. The townspeople — just a few dozen on weekdays, as many as 1,000 on Sundays — push forward toward the choir, an intimate space within the vastness of the cathedral. They push past the backpackers, past the tour groups craning their necks for a better view of the stained-glass windows, past the occasional dog that wanders in with its owner. They take their seats for Mass. And twice each day, the priest prays the prayer that Christians have had on their lips and in their hearts for centuries. "Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory," he intones, "forever and ever. Amen."

With reporting by Dejan Anastasijevic / Belgrade, Mairéad Carey / Dublin, Bruce Crumley and Grant Rosenberg / Paris, Helen Gibson, Andrea Hulser, Meredith Lennox and Adam Smith / London, Jeff Israely / Rome, Tadeusz L. Kucharski / Warsaw, John Miller / Brussels, Amanda Ripley / Chartres, Jan Stojaspal / Prague, Charles P. Wallace / Berlin and Yuri Zarakhovich / Moscow