It was shortly after 11 p.m and he temperature was still in the high eighties when our driver deposited us at the outdoor platform where the celebration of “The Blessing and Sprinkling of Holy Water on the Pilgrims” was to take place.  A day earlier, Alice and I had arrived at the International Sanctuary of Jesus the Savior and Mother Mary, near the crossroads town of Elele in Southeast Nigeria at the invitation of our good friend, Fr. Justus Alaeto. We came by air from Frankfurt, Germany, but thousands of others arrived in worn-out vans on dangerous, dusty roads. 

The blessing ceremony came at the end of a day that had begun at 6:00 am with Mass and devotions. One religious event followed another. At 10 that morning there had been a solemn four-hour Mass celebrated in the enormous Church of Jesus the Savior with several bishops, thirty priests and seven or eight thousand worshipers. This had been followed in the late afternoon by the Stations of the Cross, the rosary and intercessory prayers. Now, night devotions were about to begin.

Nigerian Catholics wear their faith like a tight-fitting garment. Largely a product of twentieth century Irish missionaries, the Church grew rapidly from the 1920s onward, and today numbers some 30,000,000 faithful. Over 90% of Nigerian Catholics attend Mass weekly.  Many families begin and end the day with the recitation of the rosary, and it is common to hear the Angelus tolled on church bells in market towns.

Catholicism here is far removed from things Americans take for granted. Few pilgrims had cell phones or traveled with more than a small bag or container of clothing. Earlier that evening we had visited the shrine’s only store, offering rice and beans. It shelves also contained a meager assortment of plastic rosaries, medals, inexpensive scarves, and glow-in-the-dark statues of Mary and St. Michael, the Archangel. A well-stocked gift shop, — something which American religious tourists might consider essential — was viewed by Nigerians as unimportant. 

For several hours, the number of people assembling for the blessing ceremony had slowly grown. A singer entertained the crowd with popular religious songs. A few individuals danced in place, some conversed quietly, and many simply waited.  Finally, near midnight, a bishop approached the altar and read a passage of Scripture.  “The people here are great listeners,” a missionary priest told me.  “They can follow readings and listen to a sermon for hours without a stir.” Stories of Jesus casting out demons, and working signs and wonders have special meaning to them, as do religious elements, such as light and darkness, bread and oil, blood and water. 

Water was particularly in evidence that evening. “Bless us O Lord God,” the bishop prayed, “that the water sprinkled upon us become an agent of divine grace in the service of your mysteries to drive away evil spirits and dispel sickness…. We ask that everything in the home and other buildings of the faithful sprinkled with this holy water be rid of all uncleanliness and freed from infection, disease and the wiles of the enemy. Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.” 

A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd as altar servers in red cassocks moved across the sanctuary with gallon sized buckets of holy water, accompanied by young priests in white albs, red stoles, and a cup in hand.  As we looked out over the crowd, holy water arched over the worshippers and into peoples’ faces in great drenching splashes. All was taken in stride. Worshippers, without laughter or embarrassment, brushed the water from their eyes, then rejoined the singing.  “Holy Spirit,” their song rang out, “show me the way, show me the way to see Jesus, face to face.  Holy Mary, show me the way, show me the way to see Jesus, face to face.” 

The Blessing Ceremony in which water is forcibly thrown by the cupful rather then merely sprinkled on the assembly is a long tradition of the sanctuary.  It is part of a culture that has traditionally viewed water not only as a crossing place between natural and supernatural worlds, but a powerful symbol of Christ’s grace-giving presence.

In Nigeria one writer has noted, the “dividing line between the material and the spiritual is as thin as air.”  Spirituality comes naturally in a world where the spirits of holy ancestors continue to bless their descendants, along with the angels and saints.  Above all these spiritual figures, are Mother Mary and Jesus the Savior, who aid the faithful in their daily lives and provide refuge from forces of evil.

Worshippers at the shrine are not hesitant to speak of such things. A leaflet written by the charismatic founder of the Sanctuary, Fr. Emmanuel Edeh recommends: “If your prayer is heard … make it known, and…help increase the faith of others.”  When the blessing service ended, a group of pilgrims came forward to the microphone and spoke of spiritual favors received and prayers answered: sickness ended, success in family problems or in business, kidnapped relatives returned safely home.  After thirty-minutes of testimony, the program circled back to the central motif of the pilgrimage:  Christ in the Eucharist.  A solemn sung Mass was celebrated, followed by a solemn candle-light procession and benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. The services did not en until 3am.

For the next three days a similar cycle of prayer and religious celebration repeated. The devotion of those present never faltered. One visitor to the shrine, recalls how as a boy he had been reluctant to come, but the experience of passing the night in the open air, with the sounds of Eucharistic adoration in the background, profoundly influenced him. The majority of pilgrims at the Sanctuary still pass the nights seated in the open air.

Our brief visit to Nigeria was a spiritually humbling experience. Since then, I have often asked myself if the faith of the Catholics of Nigeria is not closer to a deeper, truer form of Christianity than the slimmed-down faith so many of us seem to possess.   I wonder if the distractions and pace of modern life have not caused us to lose a fundamental sense of mystery.  And that despite all our accomplishments, we are not the poorer for this.

Larry Mullaly May 5, 2024