Latest news with #NationalEucharisticCongress
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Yahoo
National Eucharistic Pilgrimage to visit San Angelo, Abilene
SAN ANGELO, Texas (Concho Valley Homepage) — As the three-year National Eucharistic Revival in the United States comes to a close this summer, the revival's multi-state pilgrimage is slated to journey through Abilene and San Angelo on June 7 and June 8. According to the Roman Catholic Diocese of San Angelo, the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage set out on the 'St. Katherine Drexel Route' in Indianapolis, the site of 2024's National Eucharistic Congress, with a course charted through ten states as it carves a path to its final destination in Los Angeles. The pilgrimage is being traveled by 'perpetual pilgrims,' individuals who are walking the entire route, and includes opportunities for people to join them at events along the way. The pilgrimage is planned to traverse the Diocese of San Angelo from Saturday, June 7, to Tuesday, June 10. The schedule of local events will begin on June 7 with a Mass for the Pentecost Vigil held in the Abilene Convention Center at 4 p.m. Following the vigil, a Eucharistic procession will travel through downtown Abilene. What to do in San Angelo this weekend: June 6 through June 8 The perpetual pilgrims will make their way to San Angelo by Sunday, June 8, when the public may join in a recitation of the Stations of the Cross at the Christ the King Retreat Center at 11 a.m., followed by a meet and greet luncheon. A Eucharistic procession will travel from the San Angelo Museum of Fine Arts to the Cathedral Church of the Sacred Heart beginning at 3:30 p.m. The cathedral will then host a Mass for Pentecost at 6 p.m., which will be followed by a meet-and-greet sandwich dinner. On Tuesday, June 10, the perpetual pilgrims will journey to St. Joseph Church in Fort Stockton for a Votive Mass for the Most Holy Eucharist at 11 a.m. A Holy Hour will be held after the Mass. Registration for all events, including those that will occur in the Diocese of San Angelo, is available at While all events are free to attend, registration is requested for each event to assist with planning. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Guardian
10-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Jesus Christ, superstar: how the Messiah became TV and box-office gold
If you're looking for your own personal Jesus this Easter, you've never had it so good. Faith‑based entertainment is booming like never before, offering up myriad new screen Messiahs and resurrecting a few old ones. But if there's a Christ for our times, it is surely Jonathan Roumie, the Irish-Arab-American star of the smash-hit biblical TV series The Chosen. Nine years ago, Roumie was just another struggling actor in Los Angeles, desperately seeking his big break. He was also a practising Catholic. One morning, as Roumie tells it, he prayed for divine intervention: 'I literally said: 'God, you take this from me. It's in your hands now. It's not up to me.'' Three months later, he was cast as Jesus in The Chosen, a series seeking to retell the story of Christ as a bingeable long‑form drama, rather than the usual earnest myth‑making – with high production values, down-to-earth characters, historical context and a seven-season arc that's not afraid to embellish scripture. The first season of The Chosen was shot in 2018 in Texas (doubling for Capernaum, on the Sea of Galilee in what is now Israel, in AD26), on a reported budget of $10m (£7.8m); the current, fifth season, Last Supper, had a reported budget of $48m and is being released in three parts in cinemas worldwide over Easter. (Parts one and two premiered in the US on 28 March and are released in the UK on 10 April.) After that, they're streaming on Amazon and, for free, on The Chosen's own app. The show claims to have reached 280 million viewers worldwide and has been translated into a record 50 languages. 'It's the most famous and successful story in history, so I definitely can't take credit for that,' says Dallas Jenkins, the 49-year-old creator of The Chosen, who co-writes and directs every episode. 'But perhaps we've done a good job of reminding the viewer, practising Christian or not, of the humanity and relevance of it.' Jenkins, a faith-based film-maker (his father, Jerry B Jenkins, is the author of the bestselling series of Christian novels Left Behind), first cast Roumie as Jesus in a low-budget short film 10 years ago. 'I saw what everyone else is seeing,' he says. 'Whereas most previous depictions were either hippy Jesus or formal 'halo around his head' Jesus, Jonathan can pull off the piety and authority while also pulling off the humour and intimacy.' Season six, the crucifixion story, will be 'huge', he promises. 'And our finale will be a big global theatrical event.' There are also Chosen spin-offs in the works, including an animated children's series, a Joseph miniseries and The Chosen in the Wild, a reality series with the adventurer Bear Grylls. The show has made Roumie a global superstar. He has visited the Vatican (and took a selfie with Pope Francis) and is a regular speaker at stadium-sized Christian gatherings, such as those hosted by the National Eucharistic Congress and the evangelical Liberty University, where VIP groups pay for individual audiences with him. One woman even asked him to heal her son, a wheelchair user (Roumie told her he didn't have that gift, but he prayed with her). Roumie also gave a 15-minute speech at the anti-abortion March for Life rally in Washington in 2023, alongside various Republican politicians, but said of the event: 'That wasn't politics, that was spirituality.' But the two are increasingly difficult to separate in today's US, where Christian leaders have fully supported Donald Trump and his Make America Great Again (Maga) agenda. Despite the decidedly non-Christian aspects of Trump's personality, many on the religious right see him as a 'vehicle' for delivering reforms such as the overturning of abortion rights, just as Republicans have viewed the church as a vehicle for influencing otherwise apolitical voters. Beyond The Chosen, those seeking a more intimate engagement with Roumie's messianic aura have another route: Hallow, which bills itself as 'the #1 prayer app'. Launched in 2018, Hallow delivers prayers, Bible stories, meditations, music and other Catholic content; it has had over 18m downloads, it says. Part of the reason for its popularity is its many endorsements, from celebrities including the actors Mark Wahlberg (who has a 'significant stake' in the company and fronted a Super Bowl ad for it last year) and Chris Pratt, the singers Andrea Bocelli and Gwen Stefani, Russell Brand and Grylls. Above all others, though, Roumie has been the face of Hallow, and the voice. He has appeared in its ads and narrates much of its content, including its Lent Pray40 challenge, which encourages followers to pray with the app every day of Lent. Despite his claims of political neutrality, Roumie has promoted Hallow on Fox News many times and in March he did a 90-minute YouTube interview with Tucker Carlson, the former Fox host, vocal Trump supporter and as divisive a rightwing figure as they come. Hallow's co-founder and CEO Alex Jones (no, not that one) has also appeared on Carlson's show. Stefani, a pop star who once advocated for LGBTQ+ rights and fundraised for Barack Obama, posted her approval of Roumie's Carlson appearance on social media – which led surprised fans to bemoan her 'Maga makeover'. Hallow's rightwing connections go deeper: its early investors include Peter Thiel – a leading Silicon Valley Trump supporter – and the venture capital firm Narya, co-founded by the US vice-president JD Vance. As well as spiritual and political forces, there are also commercial ones at play. The stellar success of The Chosen has not gone unnoticed by a beleaguered entertainment industry, especially since the copyright on this IP expired 2,000 years ago. In February, Amazon released House of David – another 'epic retelling' of a biblical story, with state-of-the-art special effects (including a gigantic Goliath) and huge, horse-mounted battle scenes. It is made by a new studio called Wonder Project, which was founded by a veteran faith-based producer named Jon Erwin (his 2023 movie Jesus Revolution, about young Christians in the 1960s, starred Roumie). Last year, Wonder Project, which counts Jenkins as an investor and 'special adviser', signed a deal with Amazon MGM Studios to produce a series of faith-based movies and TV shows. Erwin has described religious viewers as 'the largest underserved niche audience in the world'. Netflix has backed several Christian movies, including Mary, a biopic about the mother of Christ, featuring Anthony Hopkins as Herod. Next up is R&B, an update of the biblical love story of Ruth and Boaz, set in modern-day Tennessee. It is part of a 'multi-year and multi-picture' deal to make faith-based content for the streamer. And if Roumie is not your kind of Jesus, this Easter will see Oscar Isaac voice Christ in The King of Kings, a new feature-length animation based on a book Charles Dickens wrote to explain the life of Jesus to his children. The voice cast also includes Kenneth Branagh, Uma Thurman, Pierce Brosnan and Ben Kingsley. All this is paving the way for the second coming of yet another Jesus in Jim Caviezel, the star of Mel Gibson's 2004 blockbuster The Passion of the Christ, a gory crucifixion drama that earned more than $600m worldwide. Gibson and Caviezel are working on the sequel: The Resurrection of the Christ. Shooting reportedly begins this summer in Italy, with a digitally de-aged Caviezel back in the crown of thorns. Gibson has been planning the film for years; now, conditions are finally ripe. Talking to Joe Rogan in January, he promised the movie would be 'an acid trip … In order to really tell the story properly, you have to really start with the fall of the angels, which means you're in another place, you're in another realm. You need to go to hell.' When it comes to separation of church and state, so to speak, Gibson and Caviezel come with their own political baggage. Gibson was cast into the wilderness after an antisemitic rant in 2006, but has spent the past few years working his way back into Hollywood's inner circle; in January, Trump appointed Gibson as a 'special ambassador' to Hollywood, along with Jon Voight and Sylvester Stallone. Predictably, all three were vocal supporters of the president's election campaign. Gibson told a reporter that Trump's Democratic opponent, Kamala Harris, had 'the IQ of a fence post'. Caviezel, meanwhile, has acted in other faith-based productions, but also embraced wild conspiracy theories. Past co-workers have alleged that, on set, Caviezel was prone to rambling monologues, Islamophobia, Hitler imitations and inappropriate comments, to the extent they dubbed him 'the Cavortex'. In 2023, Caviezel starred in Sound of Freedom, a faith-tinged thriller based on Tim Ballard, a real-life vigilante who supposedly rescued children abducted by sex traffickers (Ballard and his operation have since been discredited). Gibson was an executive producer on the movie. When Caviezel was promoting it, he frequently referenced the chemical adrenochrome – a key component of the QAnon conspiracy theory, which alleged baselessly that Trump was pitted against a secret cabal of Washington paedophiles, who were extracting adrenochrome from frightened children to use as an elixir of youth. In spite, or perhaps because of this, the Sound of Freedom took more than $250m at the box office worldwide. The boom in faith-based content could be seen as a reflection of the political climate, but it is also the result of an alternative cultural ecosystem that has been growing away from the limelight for more than a decade, while all eyes were focused on Hollywood. In some senses, it is a grassroots movement, albeit with help from a network of powerful allies. Of particular significance is Angel Studios. Founded in Utah by the Mormon Harmon brothers and originally launched as VidAngel in 2014, its initial purpose was to censor Hollywood content for Christian viewers by filtering out scenes that were considered offensive, such as those featuring violence, profanity or nudity. After a number of studios took legal action over copyright infringement in 2016, the firm rebranded in 2021 as Angel Studios and started creating its own content. Angel Studios had noticed The Two Thieves, Jenkins's 2014 short film featuring Roumie, which tells the story of Jesus's death from the perspective of the thieves crucified alongside him. When Jenkins explained his plans for The Chosen, Angel suggested he raise the budget by crowdfunding, via the studio's extensive network of Christian supporters. A call-out raised over $11m from more than 18,000 supporters and they were off to the races. Angel has used this crowdfunding method many times since: circumventing traditional industry gatekeepers and going straight to the audience, who receive dividends for their investments, plus other perks, such as appearing as an extra. The first four seasons of The Chosen were funded this way. Now, says Jenkins, 'the bulk of our income comes from donations to a nonprofit, the overwhelming majority of which goes directly into production of the next season'. But they are not rolling in cash, he stresses: 'Our show is available free and the licence fees we get from commercial distribution don't come close to covering the full cost of the production of each season.' Now, Angel Studios looks as if it is aiming to become a faith-based Netflix, building a library of free, faith-based content on its streaming platform: miniseries, children's animations (it is behind The King of Kings), modern-day dramas, even standup comedy. Next up is Zero AD, a biblical epic by the Sound of Freedom director that features Gael García Bernal and Sam Worthington, with Caviezel as Herod. In marketing terms, too, Angel has been innovative. The studio picked up Sound of Freedom after it was discarded by Fox and turned it into a hit partly by inviting viewers to 'pay it forward' – contributing money to 'increase the audience and reach' of the film and paying for tickets so others could see it for free. (Regardless of whether those gift tickets were used, it was all money in the bank from the studio's point of view.) For its biopic Bonhoeffer, about a German pastor who stood up to the Nazis, it offered 'free tickets for antisemites', because, as co-founder Jeffrey Harmon said: 'Who needs to know the evils of antisemitism more than antisemites?' Angel and other faith-based production companies have a ready-made network of church groups to help publicise their films, especially in the US. Churches can apply to screen episodes of The Chosen, for example, or download sermon notes. In addition, religious and rightwing media outlets such as Fox News, Breitbart and the Christian Post are only too happy to help with promotion. Now, with acceptance by Amazon and Netflix, this alternative ecosystem is taking over the mainstream. Jenkins has tried hard to avoid the politics. He points out that his cast and crew 'come from every conceivable political and religious (or lack thereof) perspective, as does our audience'. Indeed, Elizabeth Tabish, who plays Mary Magdalene in The Chosen, recently described herself as a 'hardcore leftist' in Vanity Fair, saying: 'I love Bernie Sanders. I believe in healthcare and education for all. I believe that America's best quality is taking care of refugees. I think those are deeply Christian values.' Ultimately, says Jenkins, 'we're making a show about the people of first-century Galilee. If someone wants to take that story and use it for political purposes, that's none of our business. Both sides do it, sadly, exploiting the parts of the story that support their narrative while conveniently ignoring the parts that don't.' For him and Roumie, just staying grounded in the face of such overwhelming, destabilising success is challenge enough. 'The scripts are still written on a laptop on the couch and the filming is still a group of flawed artists trying to accurately capture humanity,' he says. 'We keep each other accountable, but are also fully aware that we're not this good.'
Yahoo
26-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Perpetual adoration is a growing Catholic trend. A Holy Year event is scheduled for the weekend
HIALEAH, Fla. (AP) — Twice a week, Luisa Arguello and her husband spend from 2 a.m. to 3 a.m. praying in the perpetual adoration chapel at St. Benedict Catholic Church, tucked on a quiet palm-fringed residential street in the Miami suburb of Hialeah. 'Your body clock gets used to it. You feel that the Lord embraces you, and everything changes,' said Arguello, who has been the chapel's coordinator since it opened in 2019. 'I don't feel the same as when I started. Adoration takes you to the presence of the Lord.' In hundreds of parishes across the United States and elsewhere, growing numbers of Catholics are taking shifts before the Blessed Sacrament — which they believe is the presence of Christ, not just a symbol — on view in dedicated chapels 24/7. Thousands more churches have regular adoration hours or days. The Vatican is marking a special Holy Year event Friday into Saturday about the practice — '24 hours for the Lord' — and churches around the world will offer continuous adoration then, including Miami's iconic 'La Ermita' sanctuary. In the United States last summer, thousands of pilgrims walked through multiple states to gather at the National Eucharistic Congress, the first such event in more than 80 years. For many St. Benedict parishioners, adoration is already a practice as standard as going to Mass — except that it feels quieter and more personal. 'If you don't give up 15 minutes a day to foster this friendship with the Lord, how are you going to spend eternity in heaven with him?' said Alfredo Janson. Every day from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. before work as a communications engineer, Janson goes to the tiny chapel. Ten chairs face a sunburst-shaped monstrance — the vessel where an unusually large consecrated host is displayed. He calls the orchid-adorned chapel 'the factory of miracles' — like the healing of his brother in Nicaragua from a severe case of COVID-19, one of the many causes he's prayed for. There are 400 adorers like Janson at the mostly Cuban American, working-class parish, who commit to at least one hour a week and often act as substitutes if someone can't make their hour. Church law forbids leaving the Blessed Sacrament unattended in the monstrance. Their commitment allows the chapel to be open for those who might have just a few minutes to stop before or after school, work or worship services. Like most, it's open to anyone except from midnight to 6 a.m., where only registered adorers can enter for security reasons. Plans to expand it are in the works. 'Without the whole community, this wouldn't be possible,' Janson said. The Rev. Yonhatan Londoño said the chapel is 'an oasis' for many, a place where happy or sad tears can fall freely. But he often reminds his flock that prayer is not an individual endeavor. 'This is the point of the chapel, that people may enter into communion,' said Londoño. In the two years he's been the parish priest, he has ditched the cassock he sometimes wore for a black guayabera shirt with the clerical collar, also in the spirit of the church meeting people where they are. His predecessor at St. Benedict started the perpetual adoration chapel. When churches were shuttered during the COVID-19 lockdown, he took the monstrance through the neighborhood streets on the back of a pickup truck. That's in line with centuries of tradition – during the 16th century plague in Milan, Italy, St. Charles Borromeo exposed the host on altars outside so people could find comfort in the presence, said Timothy O'Malley, academic director of the University of Notre Dame's Center for Liturgy. The practice of adoration traces back to the early church. It blossomed in the Middle Ages after the church instituted the feast of Corpus Christi — Body of Christ in Latin — the celebration of the belief that when bread and wine are consecrated during the eucharistic sacrament, Christ becomes truly present in them. Major processions with the Blessed Sacrament, and often far-from-sober citywide festivities, are still celebrated today on that solemnity, which falls in late spring, especially in Latin America and Spain. Spain also has a century-old tradition of overnight adoration, said Fermín Labarga, church history professor at University of Navarra. As a youth in his native Argentina, Pope Francis went to nighttime adoration with his brother and he instituted the call for the '24 hours' Lenten practice early in his papacy. Late in his, St. John Paul II wrote of the importance of adoration, lamenting that in some regions it was abandoned. 'The worship of the Eucharist outside of the Mass is of inestimable value for the life of the Church,' his 2003 encyclical read. 'It is pleasant to spend time with him (Christ) … to feel the infinite love present in his heart.' It's that 'affective encounter with Christ' outside of the ritual requirements of worship that attracts growing numbers of people and especially youth like today's Notre Dame students, said O'Malley. 'They have a lot of anxiety and here they have an object – of course, I would say a person – but that they can focus all their attention toward, who is there for them to be present to in silence, tech-free,' he said. 'Some just sit and talk … like they're with a friend.' For Miami-area pastor Rev. Alejandro Rodríguez Artola, that's the appeal that distinguishes adoration from Mass, which virtually all adorers also attend. 'Mass has activities, Mass has other families, a social element,' said Rodríguez, whose last three parishes all had adoration chapels. 'People like the tranquility and intimacy of feeling he's speaking to nobody else but them.' When 15 years ago he was assigned to pastor a shrinking congregation whose church had been gutted by fire, he decided to include a chapel in the rebuilding – and said people still text him today to thank him, saying as many as 20 people are often crammed in it. Today he leads St. Thomas the Apostle in a suburb of Miami, which had perpetual adoration for more than two decades and still hosts it for about 12 hours each weekday. That allows many families with children in St. Thomas' school to pop in before classes or after sports practice, along with commuters. 'I think it's the anchor,' Rodríguez said of the adoration chapel. 'A church building spends most of the week empty, but this doesn't.' On a recent early afternoon at St. Benedict's chapel, some faithful prayed the rosary while others read Scriptures or knelt in silent recollection. 'I just feel like looking at him, and that he is the one talking to me,' said Lastenia Vivas, who carries one of the midnight-to-1 a.m. shifts. 'Sometimes one arrives tired, but the peace that you feel here is unique.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
The Independent
26-03-2025
- General
- The Independent
Perpetual adoration is a growing Catholic trend. A Holy Year event is scheduled for the weekend
Twice a week, Luisa Arguello and her husband spend from 2 a.m. to 3 a.m. praying in the perpetual adoration chapel at St. Benedict Catholic Church, tucked on a quiet palm-fringed residential street in the Miami suburb of Hialeah. 'Your body clock gets used to it. You feel that the Lord embraces you, and everything changes,' said Arguello, who has been the chapel's coordinator since it opened in 2019. 'I don't feel the same as when I started. Adoration takes you to the presence of the Lord.' In hundreds of parishes across the United States and elsewhere, growing numbers of Catholics are taking shifts before the Blessed Sacrament — which they believe is the presence of Christ, not just a symbol — on view in dedicated chapels 24/7. Thousands more churches have regular adoration hours or days. The Vatican is marking a special Holy Year event Friday into Saturday about the practice — '24 hours for the Lord' — and churches around the world will offer continuous adoration then, including Miami's iconic 'La Ermita' sanctuary. In the United States last summer, thousands of pilgrims walked through multiple states to gather at the National Eucharistic Congress, the first such event in more than 80 years. For many St. Benedict parishioners, adoration is already a practice as standard as going to Mass — except that it feels quieter and more personal. 'If you don't give up 15 minutes a day to foster this friendship with the Lord, how are you going to spend eternity in heaven with him?' said Alfredo Janson. Every day from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. before work as a communications engineer, Janson goes to the tiny chapel. Ten chairs face a sunburst-shaped monstrance — the vessel where an unusually large consecrated host is displayed. He calls the orchid-adorned chapel 'the factory of miracles' — like the healing of his brother in Nicaragua from a severe case of COVID-19, one of the many causes he's prayed for. There are 400 adorers like Janson at the mostly Cuban American, working-class parish, who commit to at least one hour a week and often act as substitutes if someone can't make their hour. Church law forbids leaving the Blessed Sacrament unattended in the monstrance. Their commitment allows the chapel to be open for those who might have just a few minutes to stop before or after school, work or worship services. Like most, it's open to anyone except from midnight to 6 a.m., where only registered adorers can enter for security reasons. Plans to expand it are in the works. 'Without the whole community, this wouldn't be possible,' Janson said. The Rev. Yonhatan Londoño said the chapel is 'an oasis' for many, a place where happy or sad tears can fall freely. But he often reminds his flock that prayer is not an individual endeavor. 'This is the point of the chapel, that people may enter into communion,' said Londoño. In the two years he's been the parish priest, he has ditched the cassock he sometimes wore for a black guayabera shirt with the clerical collar, also in the spirit of the church meeting people where they are. His predecessor at St. Benedict started the perpetual adoration chapel. When churches were shuttered during the COVID-19 lockdown, he took the monstrance through the neighborhood streets on the back of a pickup truck. That's in line with centuries of tradition – during the 16th century plague in Milan, Italy, St. Charles Borromeo exposed the host on altars outside so people could find comfort in the presence, said Timothy O'Malley, academic director of the University of Notre Dame's Center for Liturgy. The practice of adoration traces back to the early church. It blossomed in the Middle Ages after the church instituted the feast of Corpus Christi — Body of Christ in Latin — the celebration of the belief that when bread and wine are consecrated during the eucharistic sacrament, Christ becomes truly present in them. Major processions with the Blessed Sacrament, and often far-from-sober citywide festivities, are still celebrated today on that solemnity, which falls in late spring, especially in Latin America and Spain. Spain also has a century-old tradition of overnight adoration, said Fermín Labarga, church history professor at University of Navarra. As a youth in his native Argentina, Pope Francis went to nighttime adoration with his brother and he instituted the call for the '24 hours' Lenten practice early in his papacy. Late in his, St. John Paul II wrote of the importance of adoration, lamenting that in some regions it was abandoned. 'The worship of the Eucharist outside of the Mass is of inestimable value for the life of the Church,' his 2003 encyclical read. 'It is pleasant to spend time with him (Christ) … to feel the infinite love present in his heart.' It's that 'affective encounter with Christ' outside of the ritual requirements of worship that attracts growing numbers of people and especially youth like today's Notre Dame students, said O'Malley. 'They have a lot of anxiety and here they have an object – of course, I would say a person – but that they can focus all their attention toward, who is there for them to be present to in silence, tech-free,' he said. 'Some just sit and talk … like they're with a friend.' For Miami-area pastor Rev. Alejandro Rodríguez Artola, that's the appeal that distinguishes adoration from Mass, which virtually all adorers also attend. 'Mass has activities, Mass has other families, a social element,' said Rodríguez, whose last three parishes all had adoration chapels. 'People like the tranquility and intimacy of feeling he's speaking to nobody else but them.' When 15 years ago he was assigned to pastor a shrinking congregation whose church had been gutted by fire, he decided to include a chapel in the rebuilding – and said people still text him today to thank him, saying as many as 20 people are often crammed in it. Today he leads St. Thomas the Apostle in a suburb of Miami, which had perpetual adoration for more than two decades and still hosts it for about 12 hours each weekday. That allows many families with children in St. Thomas' school to pop in before classes or after sports practice, along with commuters. 'I think it's the anchor,' Rodríguez said of the adoration chapel. 'A church building spends most of the week empty, but this doesn't.' On a recent early afternoon at St. Benedict's chapel, some faithful prayed the rosary while others read Scriptures or knelt in silent recollection. 'I just feel like looking at him, and that he is the one talking to me,' said Lastenia Vivas, who carries one of the midnight-to-1 a.m. shifts. 'Sometimes one arrives tired, but the peace that you feel here is unique.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Associated Press
26-03-2025
- General
- Associated Press
Perpetual adoration is a growing Catholic trend. A Holy Year event is scheduled for the weekend
HIALEAH, Fla. (AP) — Twice a week, Luisa Arguello and her husband spend from 2 a.m. to 3 a.m. praying in the perpetual adoration chapel at St. Benedict Catholic Church, tucked on a quiet palm-fringed residential street in the Miami suburb of Hialeah. 'Your body clock gets used to it. You feel that the Lord embraces you, and everything changes,' said Arguello, who has been the chapel's coordinator since it opened in 2019. 'I don't feel the same as when I started. Adoration takes you to the presence of the Lord.' In hundreds of parishes across the United States and elsewhere, growing numbers of Catholics are taking shifts before the Blessed Sacrament — which they believe is the presence of Christ, not just a symbol — on view in dedicated chapels 24/7. Thousands more churches have regular adoration hours or days. The Vatican is marking a special Holy Year event Friday into Saturday about the practice — '24 hours for the Lord' — and churches around the world will offer continuous adoration then, including Miami's iconic 'La Ermita' sanctuary. In the United States last summer, thousands of pilgrims walked through multiple states to gather at the National Eucharistic Congress, the first such event in more than 80 years. For many St. Benedict parishioners, adoration is already a practice as standard as going to Mass — except that it feels quieter and more personal. 'If you don't give up 15 minutes a day to foster this friendship with the Lord, how are you going to spend eternity in heaven with him?' said Alfredo Janson. Every day from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. before work as a communications engineer, Janson goes to the tiny chapel. Ten chairs face a sunburst-shaped monstrance — the vessel where an unusually large consecrated host is displayed. He calls the orchid-adorned chapel 'the factory of miracles' — like the healing of his brother in Nicaragua from a severe case of COVID-19, one of the many causes he's prayed for. There are 400 adorers like Janson at the mostly Cuban American, working-class parish, who commit to at least one hour a week and often act as substitutes if someone can't make their hour. Church law forbids leaving the Blessed Sacrament unattended in the monstrance. Their commitment allows the chapel to be open for those who might have just a few minutes to stop before or after school, work or worship services. Like most, it's open to anyone except from midnight to 6 a.m., where only registered adorers can enter for security reasons. Plans to expand it are in the works. 'Without the whole community, this wouldn't be possible,' Janson said. The Rev. Yonhatan Londoño said the chapel is 'an oasis' for many, a place where happy or sad tears can fall freely. But he often reminds his flock that prayer is not an individual endeavor. 'This is the point of the chapel, that people may enter into communion,' said Londoño. In the two years he's been the parish priest, he has ditched the cassock he sometimes wore for a black guayabera shirt with the clerical collar, also in the spirit of the church meeting people where they are. His predecessor at St. Benedict started the perpetual adoration chapel. When churches were shuttered during the COVID-19 lockdown, he took the monstrance through the neighborhood streets on the back of a pickup truck. That's in line with centuries of tradition – during the 16th century plague in Milan, Italy, St. Charles Borromeo exposed the host on altars outside so people could find comfort in the presence, said Timothy O'Malley, academic director of the University of Notre Dame's Center for Liturgy. The practice of adoration traces back to the early church. It blossomed in the Middle Ages after the church instituted the feast of Corpus Christi — Body of Christ in Latin — the celebration of the belief that when bread and wine are consecrated during the eucharistic sacrament, Christ becomes truly present in them. Major processions with the Blessed Sacrament, and often far-from-sober citywide festivities, are still celebrated today on that solemnity, which falls in late spring, especially in Latin America and Spain. Spain also has a century-old tradition of overnight adoration, said Fermín Labarga, church history professor at University of Navarra. As a youth in his native Argentina, Pope Francis went to nighttime adoration with his brother and he instituted the call for the '24 hours' Lenten practice early in his papacy. Late in his, St. John Paul II wrote of the importance of adoration, lamenting that in some regions it was abandoned. 'The worship of the Eucharist outside of the Mass is of inestimable value for the life of the Church,' his 2003 encyclical read. 'It is pleasant to spend time with him (Christ) … to feel the infinite love present in his heart.' It's that 'affective encounter with Christ' outside of the ritual requirements of worship that attracts growing numbers of people and especially youth like today's Notre Dame students, said O'Malley. 'They have a lot of anxiety and here they have an object – of course, I would say a person – but that they can focus all their attention toward, who is there for them to be present to in silence, tech-free,' he said. 'Some just sit and talk … like they're with a friend.' For Miami-area pastor Rev. Alejandro Rodríguez Artola, that's the appeal that distinguishes adoration from Mass, which virtually all adorers also attend. 'Mass has activities, Mass has other families, a social element,' said Rodríguez, whose last three parishes all had adoration chapels. 'People like the tranquility and intimacy of feeling he's speaking to nobody else but them.' When 15 years ago he was assigned to pastor a shrinking congregation whose church had been gutted by fire, he decided to include a chapel in the rebuilding – and said people still text him today to thank him, saying as many as 20 people are often crammed in it. Today he leads St. Thomas the Apostle in a suburb of Miami, which had perpetual adoration for more than two decades and still hosts it for about 12 hours each weekday. That allows many families with children in St. Thomas' school to pop in before classes or after sports practice, along with commuters. 'I think it's the anchor,' Rodríguez said of the adoration chapel. 'A church building spends most of the week empty, but this doesn't.' On a recent early afternoon at St. Benedict's chapel, some faithful prayed the rosary while others read Scriptures or knelt in silent recollection. 'I just feel like looking at him, and that he is the one talking to me,' said Lastenia Vivas, who carries one of the midnight-to-1 a.m. shifts. 'Sometimes one arrives tired, but the peace that you feel here is unique.'
