In Saudi Arabia, a million Catholics worship quietly, bound by faith and connected through the “miracle of the Internet.”
Newsroom (30/12/2025 Gaudium Press ) In a nondescript apartment overlooking the ever-changing skyline of Jeddah, the familiar sound of ancient chants rises softly from a small speaker. The words—“Glory be to God in the highest”—are sung in Malayalam, echoing the Syro-Malabar liturgy of distant Kerala. Outside, minarets pierce the twilight, their calls to prayer marking a rhythm that defines life across Saudi Arabia. Inside, a modest congregation gathers around a screen, where a priest thousands of kilometers away preaches about persecution, faith, and peace.
This is the “Church of the Catacombs” in the twenty-first century—virtual, invisible, yet profoundly alive. For over a million Christians—many from the Philippines, India, and other parts of Asia—the miracle of the Internet has become their lifeline to faith in the only country in the world where public worship of any religion other than Sunni Islam is forbidden.
The Digital Sanctuary
Through Zoom links and social media platforms, the faithful gather discreetly in living rooms transformed into sanctuaries. Tablet screens glow like stained glass, transmitting Masses from parishes in Kerala or Manila. “The miracle of the Internet allows us to attend Mass together,” says one Indian believer in Jeddah. “We are from different parts of the world, but we pray as one.”
It’s a quiet revolution. These gatherings, though fragile and hidden, embody a deeper Catholic unity—rooted not in walls or cathedrals but in shared ritual and perseverance. The faithful here relive the story of early Christianity itself: a church without temples, sustained by conviction rather than recognition.
Faith Under Watch
Life for Christians in Saudi Arabia remains precarious. The kingdom—home to Islam’s holiest cities, Mecca and Medina—recognizes no other faith publicly. The influx of migrant workers during the oil boom brought Catholics, Buddhists, and Hindus into the heart of this religiously exclusive state. Though less harshly policed since 2018, the specter of surveillance persists. The Mutawa, or religious police, once raided private homes to confiscate Bibles or rosaries, arrests followed by deportation or imprisonment.
Yet believers carry on. “Walls aren’t needed to profess one’s faith,” says Bishop Aldo Berardi, Apostolic Vicar of Northern Arabia. “The people themselves become the Church.” His guidance to the faithful is both pastoral and practical: focus on spiritual life, Bible study, and catechism. And above all, use the tools of the modern age—video calls, messaging apps, online catechism courses—to stay connected and nourished in faith.
A Hidden Community of Hope
Among the communities scattered between Jeddah, Riyadh, and industrial cities along the Gulf coast, Christmas offers a fleeting but powerful sense of unity. Xavier, an Indian Catholic, calls it “a time when faith overcomes fear.” Filipino groups connect to dawn Simbang Gabi masses back home, their screens flickering with candlelight and hymns. Families decorate living rooms with small trees and paper stars, while sharing dishes that echo those of their native villages.
Acts of openness, once unthinkable, are beginning to surface. In Riyadh, Sri Lankan Catholics organize concerts that include Buddhists, Hindus, and Muslims in the audience—and even on stage. A government official notes that “generosity and charity” mark the presence of Christians who quietly contribute to the social fabric. The change is subtle but visible: shopping malls now display Santa Claus figures and festive ornaments. Last year, a Muslim cleric even remarked that saying “Merry Christmas” was not a sin.
Signs of Change
The mood in the kingdom is evolving alongside Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s Vision 2030—a sweeping reform plan aimed at modernizing the economy and society. While religious freedom remains out of reach, small gestures of tolerance are reshaping how Saudi society perceives “the other.” Christian workers now speak confidently of their faith among trusted colleagues. “Restrictions remain,” admits Anthony, a Filipino Catholic, “but hope is stronger. We see signs of change.”
For believers who risked everything for faith, each whispered prayer, each online liturgy, carries the quiet determination of resistance. The Church they build exists not in marble but in digital spaces and human hearts—fragile, flickering, yet indestructible.
Christmas, for them, is not just a feast but a testimony. Presence and participation, as Xavier puts it, are now “the two pillars stronger than fear.” Amid the neon lights of a rapidly modernizing kingdom, the ancient words still resound—softly, defiantly, eternally: Glory be to God in the highest.
- Raju Hasmukh with files from Asianews.it
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