The "Languid Churches"

Divine Appeal Reflection - 265

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 265: "My Churches are reduced to languid meeting places. The obstinacy of some centuries ago continues to exist and dominate. This perverse world is like a persecuting dragon. Mankind hurls torrents of blasphemies and lies against the Church!"

In this Divine Appeal, the Heart of our Adorable Jesus speaks with wounded sorrow—not from abandonment by strangers, but by His own. In many places, the Church—once ablaze with adoration and trembling reverence—has cooled into a functional gathering space. What was once holy ground now struggles beneath the weight of distraction, utility, and haste. There is no persecution more subtle than the internal decay of reverence. The presence of Jesus in the Eucharist is not denied outright but buried beneath programs, performances, and planning. One of the most tragic symptoms of this spiritual malaise is the increasing demand by Christians for time-limited religion: short homilies, brief services, no “extra” prayers. The Eucharist is hurried. Silence is removed. Confession hours are neglected. Many faithful now demand that Church should “fit” within modern schedules. But eternity cannot be compressed into comfort. Time with God cannot be reduced to obligation. Worship is not a checkbox; it is the giving of one’s whole self (cf. CCC 2096–2099). When Jesus is treated as an interruption rather than the source of life, the altar loses its power to convert, and the pews lose their fire. If we limit our time with God, we limit our capacity for transformation. Our Adorable Jesus still waits in every tabernacle—abandoned not by law, but by love.

The phrase “languid meeting places” strikes with sorrowful accuracy when we behold how many sacred spaces—once vibrant with reverence and Eucharistic wonder—are now surrendered to secular use, not by persecution, but by internal compromise. In our parishes and churches, spaces designated for adoration, prayer, and sacramental worship are increasingly being used for political rallies, leadership development, economic discussions, and cultural displays that have little to do with Christ. Even with the best of intentions, these kinds of activities frequently replace the hallowed rhythm of liturgical life, substituting teaching for discussion and adoration for applause. Our Adorable Jesus is still covered in the tabernacle, but the words and deeds that surround Him no longer bow down to Him. This is a stealthy defilement. Altars are sidelined, pulpits repurposed, and the language of eternity diluted into trends of the age. When ideologies foreign to the Gospel are allowed to echo within the sanctuary, we risk turning temples into theatres and shepherds into spectators. The house of God is not neutral ground—it is the dwelling of the Divine, the threshold of Heaven (cf. CCC 1180, 1386). When the sacred becomes negotiable, the faithful learn to treat God as optional. Irreverence in holy places forms irreverent hearts. And when the awe of His presence is lost, we no longer need persecution to empty our churches—lukewarmness will finish the work. What was once a house of prayer slowly becomes a hall of noise, and souls forget that our adorable Jesus is there at all.

The “obstinacy” that our Adorable Jesus names is not just rebellion—it is a spiritual posture that refuses to change. Though centuries pass, the same resistance to surrender still infects the Church. We see it in those who claim to love the Church but reject its moral authority. We see it in Catholics who seek blessings but avoid repentance. But perhaps most painfully, we see it in ourselves—when we claim to be devoted, yet withhold our time, our attention, and our reverence. Modern life is noisy, urgent, and fast. But the things of God are slow, deep, and eternal. The Church is not a productivity center. The Living God, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ are all present on the altar in the Eucharist, not merely as symbols. Even whether there are empty pews, distracted liturgies, or seemingly uninterested hearts, Jesus is present at every Holy Mass. His fidelity does not waver with our response; He remains. It is because we have stopped coming to adore. We have demanded that the sacred bend to the secular. But grace cannot be rushed. Love cannot be rationed. Until the Eucharist becomes the center again, no program will save us. Until the tabernacle is more loved than the schedule, the Church will remain languid.

In this moment of history, when blasphemies rise like smoke and culture treats holiness as absurd, we must become the faithful remnant who return—not just with our presence, but with our time. Let every Catholic rediscover the joy of giving God their best hours, not leftovers. Let every parish rekindle silence, adoration, and beauty. Let every Christian examine: do I give God the first portion of my week, my day, my heart? If we are to endure in a time of trial, it will not be through efficiency but through Eucharistic love. Jesus is not asking for a few moments; He is asking for our lives. He is not asking for us to manage Him into our plans, but to build our lives around His Presence. Until we stop timing the Mass and start timing our hearts, the Church will not fully rise. But when even a few souls offer their time back to God with joy, the tide begins to turn. Love makes time. And when the Church loves Jesus again without a clock, Heaven will pour down fire.

Prayer 

Our Adorable Jesus, forgive us for hurrying what should be holy. Teach us to give You time without measure, to sit in silence, to adore with love. Restore Your Church through reverent hearts, and make us willing to waste time with You, where nothing is lost and all is made new. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.