Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 13

A new chapter: stepping down from my full-time job

I have to share my big news: I’m leaving my position as Director of Communications for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Albany after almost seven years. What’s the plan? To return to what I love to do most: writing, retreat work, and teaching yoga. Truth be told, I’ve been doing all those things while I do my day job, which might be why I’m always exhausted. Something had to give, and there was no way I could give up the work that is my true calling. It wasn’t an easy decision but my heart new it was time. The still, small voice can get very loud and distracting when we don’t listen the first time (or 100 times). I’m lucky to be able to make this choice; I know not everyone can. I will write more about this soon, but for now, here is the media release issued by the Diocese of Albany with all the details:

Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger has accepted the resignation of Mary DeTurris Poust, diocesan director of communications, effective Jan. 28, 2022. Ms. DeTurris Poust has served in the role since September 2015, after initially being brought on six months earlier to create and maintain a social media presence for the bishop and the 14-county diocese. A search is underway for her replacement.

“Mary brought a unique blend of journalistic skills, spiritual insights, and social media savvy to the position, not to mention a lifelong Catholic faith that informed everything she did,” Bishop Scharfenberger said. “While we are sorry to lose her, we are grateful for her tireless efforts on behalf of the diocese and the larger Church, and we wish her all the best as she continues to spread the Gospel through the written and spoken word.”

Bishop Scharfenberger brought Ms. DeTurris Poust to the diocese in an effort to transform the Office of Communications from a traditional press office to a responsive and pro-active communications team that would use technology to further the mission of the Church. Ms. DeTurris Poust also serves as associate publisher of The Evangelist, the weekly newspaper of the diocese, and as vice president of its board. Her monthly column, Life Lines, will continue to run in The Evangelist.

“I am honored to have had the opportunity to serve the Diocese of Albany for close to seven years, and I’m proud of all we accomplished with the help of a great communications team. Now it is time for me to return to what has always been the heart of my ministry and professional life: writing, retreat work, and public speaking,” said Ms. DeTurris Poust. “I am so grateful to Bishop Scharfenberger for his commitment to transparency and truth, for his support of Catholic communications as the premier way to evangelize, educate and inspire, and, most importantly, for his unflagging efforts to bring healing to the survivors of sexual abuse.”

Prior to joining the diocese, Ms. DeTurris Poust spoke nationally about the need for the Church to use social media as way to reach Catholics and non-Catholics alike, telling the U.S. Bishops at their General Assembly in Baltimore in 2012 that “like it or not, Facebook is the new parish hall.” Bishop Scharfenberger also recognized that need and initially hired Ms. DeTurris Poust to establish a diocesan presence on various social media platforms. When she was appointed Communications Director five months later, that role was expanded to include media relations, redesign and maintenance of the diocesan website, video production and promotion, and more. Since then, the Communications Office has grown its digital presence year by year and has won numerous national Catholic Media Association awards for its social media campaigns and graphics, website design and content, press releases and breaking news.

“None of this could have happened without the talented and dedicated staff that has supported and executed our campaigns so expertly,” said Ms. DeTurris Poust. “I am so grateful to those who have worked alongside me to translate the bishop’s vision and the Gospel message into digital, video and print products.”

The author of six books on Catholic spirituality and six books of seasonal reflections, Ms. DeTurris Poust is the former managing editor of Catholic New York, the newspaper of the Archdiocese of New York, and contributing editor of Our Sunday Visitor newsweekly, and has also served the dioceses of Metuchen, N.J., and Austin, Texas. She is a nationally known retreat leader, and her writing appears regularly in various publications and on her blog at www.notstrictlyspiritual.com.

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Meditation & mindfulness: a three-week series to inner transformation

Regular readers of this blog know that I am not a fan of the standard new year’s resolution approach to life. Losing 10 pounds, exercising more often, drinking less wine might be good for you in general, but hinging your new year and your future happiness on a transitory goal, a number on a scale, or an activity ring closed is not the roadmap to real joy. We tend to set ourselves up for failure and then beat ourselves up until we get to the next year and repeat the process all over again. Never fear! There is an antidote to the madness, and it’s something you can do right where you are: meditation and mindfulness.

Join me on a three-week journey toward real change, transformation that happens from the inside out and has real staying power. I’m not saying you’ll be transformed in three weeks. That’s not possible. What I AM saying is that I can give you the tools, the practices, and the motivation to set yourself on a course for finding what your soul is craving. ReVolution, not resolution is our rallying cry!

Resolve to Evolve is a three-week series that will focus on meditation, mindfulness and discovering the miracle of the mundane right here in the midst of our busy lives. I will be offering this series in-person or online through Jai Yoga School on Sundays, January 2, 9, and 16, from 12:30 to 1:30 p.m. We won’t just talk about these topics; we will get down to the hands-on practice of each. I can’t wait to join you on this journey and see where it takes us!

The three-week series costs $60. You can register by clicking HERE. Additional option: If you have the time and inclination, you can sign up for the Gentle Yoga class I teach at Jai each Sunday from 11:15 a.m. to 12:15 p.m., also available in-person or online. While it’s certainly not required, it’s a great way to prepare for meditation. Class sign-up is available HERE.

If you plan to join me, bring a yoga mat, a blanket or cushion (although Jai has blankets if you want to use one of those), and something to write with. I will provide small journals. Other than that, just bring an open heart and mind and a willingness to be still and silent for a little bit. That’s where the magic happens!

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An unlikely Advent journey

For the longest time, I considered myself more of a Lent person than an Advent person. The journey through the desert felt familiar, the three-prong practice of fasting, prayer and charity was concrete and easy to grasp. As I age, I find myself learning to love this season of waiting, a season plunged into physical darkness but centered on the Light of the World. The paradox of Advent is not limited to the play of darkness and light. We find it in the Scriptures, too, as we prepare for both the coming of the Savior swaddled in a manger and the coming of the Savior at the end of time. We find it as the world around us rushes to wrap presents and play Christmas music, even as we are called to step outside the fray and sink into silence and wait.

On the cusp of Advent, two experiences nudged me to enter into this season in a different way than in years past. I was working from home one day and listening to a podcast called “How God Works,” when Jesuit Father James Martin, a guest for the episode on “Contemplating Death: A Secret for Happiness,” started talking about the Ignatian practice of thinking about our own death and how, rather than cause us to be morbid, it does just the opposite. He talked about someone who might have a big decision to make, something that might require letting go of something familiar. “You can imagine yourself on your deathbed thinking, ‘I wish I had done that,’” he explained. A few bold moves I’ve been considering ran through my mind before I quickly pushed them aside, labeling them as unreasonable or too bold, even as I knew Father Martin was right about the likely regret.

In my studies to become a spiritual director, I keep circling back to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, to the nightly Examen that is a key part of Ignatian spirituality, and now to this practice of contemplating myself on my deathbed before making a key life decision. Maybe it’s due to the pandemic that these heavy topics keep surfacing; maybe it’s due to the fact that I’m now beyond middle age and can see both physical and spiritual changes that mark this new chapter, this last third. Recently on social media, a woman who lives with cancer long term was asked if she now lives every day as if it is her last. She responded that, no, she now lives every day as if it is her first. The daily reality of how precious and uncertain life is has not made her more fearful and sad, just the opposite. She goes after each day with gusto.

Clearly this Advent is supposed to be the season in which I contemplate my inevitable death to better focus on the life right in front of me. No easy task, so I decided to get some assistance from a new book by Sister Theresa Aletheia Noble, F.S.P.: Memento Mori: An Advent Companion on the Last Things. Talk about countercultural. While everyone else is putting an elf on a shelf, I’ve got skulls and skeletons and sand through an hourglass.

“As human beings, we are prone to distraction and becoming lost in the passing things of this world,” she writes in the introduction to the book. “We likely experience this every Advent when, amid a liturgical season that invites us to enter into silent awe, shining lights and tinsel vie for our attention. But this is precisely why meditating on the Last Things during Advent can be so spiritually fruitful.”

I invite you to join me on this unlikely Advent journey. Can you turn down the Christmas station with Mariah Carey playing on endless loop and tune into the Spirit whispering to your soul? Can you ponder, for even a few minutes, your own death and, in doing so, finally learn to truly live?

This column first appeared in the Dec. 1, 2021, issue of Catholic New York. Do not reproduce without permission.

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First Week of Advent: making space for the sacred

‘Tis the season to decorate, shop, wrap, bake… Nope! This season of Advent is made for just the opposite: waiting, anticipating, resting, praying. It’s a beautiful season but so countercultural. I dare you to join in drop out and revel in the slow goodness of this beautiful season. I thought I’d share a few goodies to help you start things off right.

Although I have not written a new book of Advent reflections for this year (I’m currently editing the book I wrote for Advent 2022, so stay tuned for that!), I did write a series of Advent reflections for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. You can find the first one posted today:

We stand on the threshold of the Advent season, called to practice the pause, to savor the waiting, to patiently take this season day by day, step by step, even as the rest of the world races toward the finish line, tinsel and gift wrap trailing behind like a holiday parade float. This is a season that calls us to rest in the tension between darkness and light, between birth and death, between what is and what will be. It’s not easy, but if we are willing to venture onto this road less traveled, what we will find is the peace we have been seeking, the beauty of a world unseen, the joy that comes not from exterior trappings but from interior wisdom built around the One who is and was and is to come. As we begin our journey, plunged into the darkness of the physical world around us, can we set our lives to a slower cadence, a sacred rhythm… continue reading HERE.

If you’re looking for more inspiration this Advent, check out the free, on-demand TV show about Jesus’ life: The Chosen. I’ve written about that in this space before. If you missed it, you can find that original column HERE. Trust me, this is a show that will definitely deepen your Advent practices and help prepare you for Christmas. But that’s not all. The creators of The Chosen have released a short Christmas movie and concert that will be playing in select theaters this season. I was able to get a sneak peek before release, and it’s definitely worth your time. The music is beautiful, the Scripture reflections are thought-provoking, and the story of Jesus’ birth is everything you want it to be and then some. HERE is a website that will help you find information about any and all news related to The Chosen. THIS LINK will take you straight to the Christmas movie page.

I found two other digital Advent devotionals that are worth a look. I have not had a chance to dive deep into either of these, but they look wonderful so I’ll share here and hope for the best. The first is a FREE Advent devotional by Kate Bowler, author of No Cure for Being Human, which you should read if you haven’t already. Fantastic book. But I digress… If you head to Kate’s website, you can sign up for her free Advent devotional, which also includes recipes and lovely graphics. Check it out.

If you are a Mary Oliver fan, you might like The Poetry of Advent, available in digital format for $10 from SALT. You can find the link to that HERE.

Finally, I put together an Advent playlist for my day job at the Diocese of Albany, but I kept the original copy on my own Spotify channel, so if you’d like to give that a listen, you can find that playlist below:

Photo by Laura Nyhuis on Unsplash

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Abundance vs. lack: Hold nothing back

Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them,
“Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more
than all the other contributors to the treasury.
For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth,
but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had,
her whole livelihood.” (Mk 12:42-44)

It would be easy to look at today’s stories (Sunday, Nov. 7) of the two widows simply as cautionary tales, there to remind us to be generous. But generosity is just a surface-level interpretation of what is laid out for us, probably because that interpretation is more comfortable and less inconvenient than the truth. The actions of these two women—relegated to the margins because of their status—focus not on if we give but how we give. The widow who makes a cake for Elijah has nothing remaining for herself or her son. Still, she trusts that all will be well and gives the last of what she has. The widow in the Gospel gives her last two coins, holding nothing back for herself.

Remember the early days of the 2020 pandemic, when toilet paper shelves were picked clean and hand sanitizer and disinfectants were nonexistent? When we donated to the parish food pantry, did we throw in one of our coveted packs of toilet paper, or did we donate the cans of soup that no one in the house liked? Did we give from our abundance or from our lack? So often we view our entire lives from a place of lack—even when we are well fed and living in comfort. We cling to our “stuff” in fear that at some point there won’t be enough, and we’ll need our stockpile.

The widows are not just the moral of a story but a compass for the journey.

Mary DeTurris Poust, “Hold Nothing Back,” from the November 2021 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2021). Used with permission.

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Becoming a participant in your own life

It’s amazing how we can convince ourselves that we simply don’t have the time to do even the little things that might make our lives demonstrably better. We race through our days feeling too overwhelmed and overscheduled to pray, to pay attention, to pause. If we take a closer look, we’re likely to find we invest a tremendous amount of time — often unconsciously — in the very things that lead to us feeling disconnected and depressed.

This reality became uncomfortably clear to me recently when my eye doctor recommended that I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose for five minutes after using my prescription eye drops each morning. I groaned internally at the prospect of spending five whole minutes on this process. A technician in the same doctor’s office then asked if I was putting hot compresses on my eyes and advised that I spend five minutes doing this while in the shower each day. Cue groan. It’s somewhat comical and more than a little pathetic that I could possibly feel burdened by having to spend 10 minutes a day on practices that will only improve my life and my health. In an age of multi-tasking and mindless media scrolling, we’ve created personal narratives that say we are far busier than we truly are and, in telling ourselves that lie, we rob ourselves of the chance to make the time for practices that can improve our physical health and promise to sooth our souls and calm our minds as well.

I’m enrolled in two training programs, one to become a spiritual director and another to become a meditation teacher. Because you cannot do either of those things without keeping up your own spiritual practice, we are required to spend a minimum of 20 minutes in silent meditation every day, preferably twice a day. There are evenings when I’m scrolling through Facebook, slouched in an easy chair, complaining that I don’t know how I’ll fit in my meditation. I manage to miss the irony, on an almost-daily basis. As the old Nike ad said: Just do it! That slogan became a tag line for everything from sneakers to diets to prayer because it spoke to an age-old problem: acedia, as it was known during the Middle Ages, or what we would call listlessness, boredom, distraction to the point of not being able to get yourself to do what you want or need to do.

One of the reasons I sign up for training upon training — aside from my desire to teach — is because I know I need something to hold me accountable, something that will prompt me to set an alarm, wake up an hour earlier, sit in meditation before the sun comes up or close my eyes on a busy train and just be. When we get out of our own way, the 20 minutes that seemed impossible to manage one day becomes impossible to live without just a few weeks later.

We can look to the monastics for guidance when it comes to the threat of acedia. In her book Acedia & Me, Kathleen Norris writes: “Monastic wisdom insists that when we are most tempted to feel bored, apathetic, and despondent over the meaningless of life when we are on the verge of discovering our true self in relation to God.” That might seem unlikely when we’re unable to get up the gusto to go for a walk or settle down to prayer, but the monks know of what they speak, with daily lives set to the rhythm of prayer and guided by a rule.

Too often our lives are ruled by bad habits and the path of least resistance. It’s time to stop letting life live us and become active participants. To do that we have to make the time — even if it’s only for five minutes at first — to pause, pray, and be present in our own lives. Just do it.

This column first appeared in the Nov. 4, 2021, issue of Catholic New York.

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Restore, Renew, Resolve to Evolve

Over the next few months, I’ll be leading events at Jai Yoga School designed to help you restore some sanity to your life (especially during the upcoming holiday season), provide some much-needed self-care, and set you on a path in the new year that will lead to true transformation. You know the rallying cry around here: Say no to resolutions; go for reVolutions instead. This year I’ll be teaching an in-person series instead of simply blogging about it. I hope you’ll join me! Here are the details:

Restore & Renew — Friday, Nov. 19, 7:30 to 9 p.m.
Join me at Jai Yoga School in Slingerlands for a 90-minute Restorative yoga session that will give you the time and space you need to dive deep into relaxation, rest, and renewal before the frenzy of the holiday season sets in. Following one hour of Restorative practice, I will guide you through a 30-minute Yoga Nidra (yogic sleep) meditation to close out this evening of self-care and serenity. Soothing music, essential oils, beautiful location. This will be the most relaxing yoga class you will ever attend. The perfect way to spend a Friday evening. All levels are welcome. Cost: $20 Registration HERE.

Resolve to Evolve — Sundays, Jan. 2, 9, 16, 12:30 to 1:30 p.m.
As we head into another new year, don’t get bogged down in resolutions that don’t work. Commit to a ReVolution instead, one that transforms you from the inside out. In this three-week series, we will cover:

• meditation (what, how, why, plus practical experience)
• mindfulness (how is it different from meditation, where and how can we practice)
• miracle of the mundane (finding joy, gratitude, surrender and acceptance in everyday life, no matter what’s happening around us)

Join me on this journey toward real and lasting change. Resolve to evolve!
Cost: $60 for the three-week series. Registration: HERE.

And just as an added FYI: I teach a Gentle yoga class right before this Sunday series, so if you’re interested you can take that class at 11:15 a.m. and piggyback the meditation series on top. They really complement each other. Certainly not required, but if you have the time and interest, it’s an option.

I’ll be posting any additional events that may pop up. If you don’t see a blog post, just check my Events tab for workshops, classes, retreats and more. And, as always, thank you for hanging out here now and then. I am so grateful!

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Be still: surrender over striving

When I signed onto Facebook this week, I found a private message from someone who told me that a Life Lines column I had written about surrender eight years ago had been instrumental in helping her “let go and let God” in the midst of her struggle back then, and again even now as she faced new challenges. I have to admit that not only was I humbled, but I went to my own website and tried to find what words I might have written that had made such an impact, because, Lord knows, I could use some advice on how to surrender.

We tend to hear the word “surrender” and imagine failure or weakness, but, in reality, surrender is often the most challenging but ultimately satisfying path. We are taught to strive, to achieve, to keep on keeping on until we just can’t physically do it anymore. But our faith asks us to take a different path, to loosen our grip, to let go of the reins, and let God be God. It’s not easy. Okay, sometimes it feels downright impossible, and yet, if we keep coming back to this idea, this teaching, we find that, over time, it begins to feel more natural, more comfortable, a little bit like home.

A few months ago, when I was giving a retreat in Maryland, I opened the Bible to Psalm 46, since my focus would be on the famous line: “Be still and know that I am God.” But when I placed the book on my table, I noticed that this translation said: “Stop fighting and know that I am God.” I stopped in my tracks and did a little groan out loud. This was not what I wanted. I started searching for the “right” translation, aka, the one I like. Instead, I came upon the translation from the New American Standard Bible and suddenly everything I thought I knew about this Scripture verse fell into place:

“Cease striving and know that I am God…,” it said.

Wait. What? This is very different from just being still. It’s a whole other reality, one that doesn’t fit into our modern mindset. What would it mean to stop striving? Who would I be if I didn’t strive to maintain control, trying to bend God to my will instead of the other way around? As it turns out, I’d be much closer to the person God meant me to be if I just released the need to control. Surrender doesn’t lead to defeat; it leads to freedom.

When I shared this news with the folks on two different retreats in recent months, I could see the light bulbs go off. It was an Aha! moment for them, just as it was for me. “Be still and know…” sounds so calm, so passive, but “Stop striving…” is a whole different ball of wax. We don’t just sit and wait for something to come to us; we actively stop doing the things that are getting between us and God.

“Only when I surrender myself completely to God’s love can I expect to be free from endless distractions, ready to hear the voice of love, and able to recognize my own unique call,” wrote theologian Henri J.M. Nouwen in The Road to Daybreak.

“It’s going to be a very long road. Every time I pray, I feel the struggle. It is the struggle of letting God be the God of my whole being. It is the struggle to trust that true freedom lies hidden in total surrender to God’s love.”

What would happen if you didn’t just choose to be still but chose to stop striving? Would the earth stop spinning? Would your world turn upside down? Or maybe, just maybe, would everything finally be exactly as it was meant to be? Stop striving, and let God do what only God can do.

This column originally appeared in the Oct. 7, 2021, issue of Catholic New York.

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Life in my 50s: the final frontier

Today I begin the first day of my last year in my 50s. Feels significant in some inexplicable way. I guess all the birthdays become significant, or more significant, as we age. I woke up this morning with my usual aches and pains in hips and knees and lower back, with eye issues that have become chronic, and the ability to jump out of bed becoming a distant memory, and yet I thought: I’m breathing. I woke up to see another day, another year, another birthday, and for that I am grateful. At one point this morning I remember thinking: I am now 12 years past my mothers age when she died. Trust me, that is no small thing. And most people who have lost a parent too young totally get that.

Back when I was in my 40s, I remember waiting for, longing for some magic moment when wisdom would descend upon me as if in a visible way from above. I don’t know if I expected a dove to alight upon my head à la the disciples at Pentecost, but I was definitely expecting something monumental and obvious. Turns out wisdom is a slow burn, and when we’re not looking — if we’re paying attention to our inner life — it is there beneath the surface doing the difficult and critical work of chiseling away at the world’s expectations and demands to reveal the True Self sculpture that may have been locked in marble our entire lives. Like Michelangelo freeing David from the confines of stone, we eventually find ourselves standing there, naked before the world (in a figurative way, of course) and completely at ease with it. No, not just at ease with it. More than that. There is awe and joy, celebration and freedom all wrapped up in the revelation of who we really are once we are ready to be unleashed, untethered.

Although I do feel old thanks to some physical decline that just can’t be helped once you get to a certain age, I fully expect — God willing — that there is an entire new chapter waiting around the bend. I can sense it, taste it, see it just beyond my grasp. It may take me a little bit to get the current me into the the spot I can see up ahead, but it’s there, beckoning me to spread my wings a little wider, take the leap, learn the things, go to the next place I am called to go into to become more fully the person I was meant to be.

As I round out this decade and prepare for the next — if I’m given that opportunity — I hope to become even more Mary than I’ve ever been. You’ve been warned. More writing, more meditation, more yoga, more retreats, more spiritual direction, more speaking truth to power, more travel, more learning, more cooking, more dancing, more singing, more creating, more exploring, more dreaming, more, more, more. To paraphrase Mary Oliver, I have no intention of “breathing just a little and calling it a life.” Full breaths until my full stop.

I found this song today, when I was creating the playlist for the Birthday Gentle yoga class I taught this morning. It spoke to me, so I thought I’d share. If you’d like to listen to my full Spotify playlist, you can find it at Another Trip Around the Sun #59. Onward!

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‘The Chosen’: TV series as prayer

As a child of the ‘60s and ‘70s, I grew up with my share of interesting entertainment options when it came to exploring the life of Jesus. I performed songs from “Godspell” with the folk group at St. Aedan’s parish in Pearl River. I saw Jesus Christ Superstar on Broadway with my parish CYO friends. I was a devoted fan of the annual airing of the multi-part TV series “Jesus of Nazareth,” so much so that I later owned my own copy of that series so I could watch it every Lent. So, when I started hearing about a new Jesus series called “The Chosen,” I didn’t pay much attention. What could this latest take on Jesus’ life have to say that all the other shows and movies hadn’t already said through drama, song and sometimes straight up kitsch?

I ignored the hype, until I led a retreat weekend in Baltimore and kept hearing about “The Chosen”—which is a completely crowd-sourced series available to viewers for free through an app—from people of all ages and backgrounds. I knew I had to give at least the first episode a chance, and, boy, am I glad I did. Last night, when my husband and I finished the eighth and final episode of season two, I felt mild panic rising as I said, “What am I going to do without my Jesus show until a new season is released?!?” It’s that good.

There is a beauty to this series that takes the things we know by heart about the life of Jesus and his followers and attempts to flesh them out—all with reverence, respect and a touch of humor. The Apostles and women disciples have such depth of character and are portrayed with storylines that make us imagine them as so much more than the fleeting glimpses we get in Scripture. From Peter’s sometimes-abrasive and aggressive personality that sets him up as the obvious leader, to Matthew’s savant-level ability with details and numbers that caused him to take on the hated role as tax collector before being called by Jesus, to Mary Magdalene’s ongoing struggles not with the demons that Jesus cast out of her but with her feelings of unworthiness, it’s impossible not to identify with these new versions of the old characters; they feel so familiar and beloved. And Jesus, played by Jonathan Roumie, perfectly portrays the very human Son of God who prays and laughs, forgives and commands.

I had tears running down my face when the paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda (John 5:1-13) could not simply say Yes to Jesus when he asks quite simply: “Do you want to be healed?” It was not just the power of the acting in that scene, but the depth of that Scripture passage come to life that brought on the emotions. How often does Jesus ask simple things of us and rather than simply say, “Yes, Lord,” we make excuses and cast blame and do anything we can to avoid the obvious.

What Scripture is to Lectio Divina, “The Chosen” is to Entertainment Divina, if there was such a thing. Maybe now there is. Watching this series is an opportunity to turn off the news and visual junk food that fills our screens and our heads and dive deep into our faith in an entirely new way. It feels very Ignatian, as though the creators of this show sat with Scripture and truly imagined themselves in the scenes and then took those imaginings to the screen and handed it to the rest of us as a beautiful gift, one that’s worth unwrapping and savoring.

To view trailers, download the app, or get more information about the series from Angel Studios, visit https://watch.angelstudios.com/thechosen.

This column originally appeared in the July 28, 2021, issue of Catholic New York.

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