The guy stood in front of the Christ the Redeemer statue in a hazmat suit, gloves, a respirator, and goggles. Two mask-clad infantrymen bowed their heads solemnly. More than a dozen people in full suits have stopped disinfecting the popular tourist spot overlooking the rooftops and beaches of Rio de Janeiro.
The only clues that the guy, a Catholic priest from Roguy who led the infantrymen in prayer, were his arm width gesture, which reflected that of the iconic statue on the most sensitive hill, and the pale yellow liturgical stole that covered his private protective apparatus. From head to toe.
This is what religion looks like in the summer of covid-19, or winter, of course, in Rio and other parts of the southern hemisphere. In photos released in August via Associated Press photographers from around the world, church services, sacred ceremonies and Christmas celebrations took a stand alongside others seeking to protect themselves and everyone else amid a relentless pandemic. .
People regularly wore a mask when visiting a church in Istanbul that had recently been remodeled into a mosque; while participating in a rite of determination for a Hindu temple in Jammu, India; as paper lanterns floated along Japan’s Motoyasu River on the 75th anniversary of Hiroshima’s atomic bombing; crawling on pilgrimage in front of the church of a Greek Orthodox island for the assumption dinner; a procession that marks “Gai Jatra”, or cow festival, in Nepal.
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In London, Rabbi David Mason ran a netted Sunday prayer service in the parking lot of his synagogue with only a few pairs of remote folding chairs intended for the faithful: maximum viewing from the house via a live video stream, as they had been doing this for months. before, strict blockage.
Social estrangement is also the norm on Tel Aviv’s beaches, as Israeli Arab families enjoyed a day outdoors while watching the Eid al-Adha of Islam, a holiday commemorating the prophet Ibrahim’s obedience to God for agreeing to sacrifice his son.
In Beirut, other people are recovering from a double whammy, not just from the pandemic, but also from the port explosion on August 4 that shattered windows, businesses and lives. One recent night, Mohammed Moussa knelt on the frame of a bed and pressed his forehead to the ground in prayer, surrounded by recovered goods and debris from his ruined home. He is an iconic symbol of his city’s struggles and how some rely on religion in those difficult times.
These and others are among the devoted ap photographs published in August.