Latest news with #Jesus
Herald Malaysia
6 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Herald Malaysia
Star of "The Chosen": 'Life is only better with Jesus in it'
Jonathan Roumie, who plays Jesus in 'The Chosen', shares his experience portraying such a prominent character and his hopes for what it can share about the works of Jesus to viewers. Jun 28, 2025 Earlier this week, "The Chosen" cast and crew held a press conference in Rome By Grace LathropJonathan Roumie, along with other members of the team of 'The Chosen' presented Pope Leo XIV with a wooden box on Wednesday morning. Having just attended his weekly General Audience, the cast and production team of the hit show depicting the life of Jesus were given time to meet with the Pope and present him with the box and other gifts. In an interview with Vatican News following the meeting, Jonathan Roumie, cast as Jesus, explained that the show's team made the box 'out of the wood from one of our crosses on set.' The box held items used during the filming of season seven, including nails from the crucifixion, the Crown of Thorns, and a piece of a bloodied garment. 'That's why we're in Italy,' explained Roumie, who, along with the rest of the team, recently travelled to Rome from Matera, in southern Italy—a location whose renowned rock-cut architecture has made it a faithful backdrop for film crews filming scenes on Jesus for decades. Recent success and the portrayal of Jesus Roumie expressed his gratitude for the opportunities that The Chosen has given him. He pointed out that when the crew first started shooting, there was no guarantee that the show would go beyond four episodes. Now, as they film their sixth season, Roumie's gratitude circles back to God, whom, he noted, 'thankfully had other plans. It's been an extraordinary adventure for me.' Now, all five of The Chosen's released seasons are in the top ten ranking for viewership on Amazon Prime Video. Roumie described his work in seeking to portray Jesus in ways that viewers can easily connect to him. One of his techniques, he said, is to try to bring the humanity of Christ to life that viewers may have never seen before. He explained that 'seeing His humanity on full display has been revelatory for so many people, and it's always about finding the balance between Christ's divinity and His humanity.' Roumie's impact on set In May, the cast filmed scenes depicting the crucifixion of Jesus, which Roumie described as 'heavily emotional.' According to him, having a good relationship with castmates during these scenes generated good on-screen chemistry. Roumie said he tries 'to love them in a way that I think Jesus loves all of us' and with this approach, gives them 'as much as I have to give.' 'Life is only better with Jesus in it' At the end of the interview, Roumie also shared what he wants viewers of The Chosen to take away from the show. To him, understanding the works of Jesus is just part of the experience. Growing closer to Jesus, however, is something he hopes everyone gets to experience. Finally, Roumie shared his hope that the show helps people understand that 'Jesus loves them unconditionally' and that 'everyone's life has the potential to change irrevocably for the better." "Life is only better with Jesus in it," he said.--Vatican News
Hamilton Spectator
a day ago
- General
- Hamilton Spectator
A US diocese defies trends and ordains its largest class of Catholic priests in decades
ARLINGTON, Va. (AP) — They are a day away from becoming Catholic priests, rehearsing for their ordination Mass under the gothic cathedral's arches. It's a balmy Friday afternoon in June, and they are practicing where to stand, when to kneel. The weekend's rituals will be the culmination of six years of seminary and a lifetime of discernment . There are so many of them — more than their diocese has ordained at one time in nearly 30 years — that it's a challenge to fit the whole group in front of the altar. Their bishop likes to call them 'the 12.' Like the 12 apostles of Jesus, their number has become a mantra and a prayer. It offers hope there can still be joy and renewal in a church riven by division, crises and abuse. Among the group there are engineers, a tech company founder and two future military chaplains. They range in age from 28 to 56. Most are U.S.-born, but some trace their roots to faraway countries with a strong Catholic presence: Cameroon, Mexico, Peru, Haiti. They are entering the priesthood at an exciting time, just as the first U.S.-born pope begins his papacy. Yet, there remains an acute shortage of clergy like them. In the U.S., the number of priests has declined by more than 40% since 1970, according to CARA, a research center affiliated with Georgetown University. During their final year of seminary, these 12 men have served as transitional deacons, offering baptisms, homilies and promising to live in obedience and celibacy. 'We've already made the promises that are, I guess, 'the scariest,'' said the Rev. Ricky Malebranche, one of the ordinands. Soon they will be entrusted with more sacraments. As ordained priests, they will work at parishes around northern Virginia, with the ability to consecrate the Eucharist, hear confessions and anoint the sick. For now, they shuffle side to side until they can fit in a row. Carefully they lie down to practice the act of prostration — arguably the most dramatic moment during an ordination ceremony. Elbows bent, hands cradling their heads, the men press their faces to the cold, marble floor. It's a position of vulnerability that signals absolute surrender. 'We're laying before the Lord,' the Rev. Mike Sampson, an ordinand, explained before the rehearsal. 'We're laying our lives down.' Searching for something more While neighboring dioceses have shuttered parishes and face dire budget shortfalls , the Diocese of Arlington is opening new churches. Its finances are solid. This year's class of new priests is the second largest in the diocese's 50-year history. The reasons behind that success 'are a little bit mysterious,' said the Rev. Michael Isenberg, the diocese's outgoing vocations director. He points to one factor helping the recruiting pool: vibrant parishes, full of young professionals drawn to jobs around Washington, D.C. Sampson, 42, was a government lawyer and raised a Protestant before he was baptized as a Catholic in 2013. Six years later, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. The Rev. Tim Banach, 31, worked as a consultant in the same office complex as Sampson. 'I enjoyed the work I was doing, but there was something more that I desired.' 'I had the dream job,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta, 40, who earned a doctorate in engineering and was working at the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory when he felt called to the priesthood. 'I had the job that I had trained many years to achieve — and it wasn't enough.' At a Sunday family dinner two weeks before ordination, Malebranche's father, Jacques, talked up these '12 great guys.' 'This kid already had two master's degrees,' he said, pointing to his son Ricky, 37, who worked as a counselor and coach at a Catholic high school before seminary. 'They had good lives. When they say they received a call, they mean it,' he said. 'They gave up a lot, and this is not easy.' A higher barrier to entry Prospective priests undergo a rigorous screening process. 'This is going to sound crazy, but they're normal,' said the Rev. Donald J. Planty Jr., who mentored several of this year's ordinands. 'They can talk to anyone.' In the wake of the clergy sex-abuse crisis , there is a greater emphasis on applicants' psychological health and emotional well-being. They go before an admissions board that includes women and laypeople, and as ordinands, meet with abuse survivors. They ultimately answer to Bishop Michael Burbidge, the diocese's avuncular prelate. 'A thing that has changed for the positive in the church is that bishops really know their men,' said Burbidge, who calls, texts and meets with seminarians regularly. 'When I was in seminary, there was no expectation that you would know the bishop.' Politically and theologically, young U.S. priests are more likely to identify as conservative or moderate than their clerical elders who came of age in the 1960s and 1970s, according to a 2023 report from the Catholic Project at Catholic University. For these men in Virginia, the rightward tilt of the U.S. Catholic Church is not a deciding factor in their priesthoods. They have pledged, though, to uphold the church's teachings, which remain conservative on issues such as gender identity, sexual orientation, contraception and abortion. 'I look at the young adults in our parishes, growing up in a world where in many ways the sacred has been removed,' Burbidge said. 'They're looking for something more. 'Give me beauty. Give me truth. Give me clarity.' I see that in young adults in our church, and these men are products of that.' The sacrifices of priestly life For many of the men, priesthood means forgoing dreams of an ordinary family life. 'I thought I was going to be a great dad and have a wonderful family,' Malebranche recalled. 'And I was like, 'Lord, why would you not want that for me?'' For many, there's a grieving process in letting go of that vision, even for deeply Catholic families. 'Every parent wants grandkids,' said Banach, whose career change initially surprised his supportive Catholic parents. Priests give up biological children, he said, but are privileged to raise 'spiritual children.' His fellow ordinand Malebranche ministers to families out of what he calls a 'deep love of my own for a family.' Two weeks before ordination, Malebranche channeled that love into a baptism conducted in Spanish, the parents' native tongue. He was nervous beforehand. A gregarious, gifted speaker, he is less confident in Spanish — though it's necessary in a diocese where nearly half the parishioners are Latino . 'It was a beautiful ceremony,' Gloria Marquez told him after, beaming and holding her 9-month-old. She said she and her husband had tried for nearly 20 years to have a baby. Malebranche teared up, grateful to be part of the longed-for moment. He wants the Catholic Church to be welcoming, especially for those who have been hurt. 'I really just want to make Catholicism warm,' he said. Like all the ordinands, he is very aware that in his clerical garb, he represents the church and the presence of Jesus. 'I have to be on every time I'm in this collar,' Malebranche said. 'That is a fitting weight for the gift of the priesthood, but it is a weight nonetheless.' A new chapter Ordination-day morning had the nervous energy of a wedding, an apt parallel for the impending commitment and pageantry. Anxious parents took their places in pews alongside friends and family who traveled from around the world to witness the ceremony. The evening would bring receptions in honor of the new priests, who would then have two weeks off before their new ministry assignments began. Sampson was going to Italy with a priest friend. Banach was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail with a small kit for the Eucharist in his pack. Tuesta was flying to Lima, Peru, his birthplace, to celebrate with family. Malebranche planned to visit loved ones in his native Virginia. 'I'm kind of looking to show off,' he said, laughing. 'I'll have my confessional stole on me at all times.' When their ordination Mass got underway, it was standing room only, with more than 1,200 well-wishers crowded into the cathedral. As part of the three-hour service, nearly 200 priests lined up to embrace and welcome into the fold their new brothers, now cloaked in ivory and blue robes. At the close of Mass, they walked down the aisle to cheers and applause, and the 12 priests were sent out, like the apostles who had come before them. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. 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San Francisco Chronicle
a day ago
- General
- San Francisco Chronicle
A US diocese defies trends and ordains its largest class of Catholic priests in decades
ARLINGTON, Va. (AP) — They are a day away from becoming Catholic priests, rehearsing for their ordination Mass under the gothic cathedral's arches. It's a balmy Friday afternoon in June, and they are practicing where to stand, when to kneel. The weekend's rituals will be the culmination of six years of seminary and a lifetime of discernment. There are so many of them — more than their diocese has ordained at one time in nearly 30 years — that it's a challenge to fit the whole group in front of the altar. Their bishop likes to call them 'the 12.' Like the 12 apostles of Jesus, their number has become a mantra and a prayer. It offers hope there can still be joy and renewal in a church riven by division, crises and abuse. Among the group there are engineers, a tech company founder and two future military chaplains. They range in age from 28 to 56. Most are U.S.-born, but some trace their roots to faraway countries with a strong Catholic presence: Cameroon, Mexico, Peru, Haiti. They are entering the priesthood at an exciting time, just as the first U.S.-born pope begins his papacy. Yet, there remains an acute shortage of clergy like them. In the U.S., the number of priests has declined by more than 40% since 1970, according to CARA, a research center affiliated with Georgetown University. During their final year of seminary, these 12 men have served as transitional deacons, offering baptisms, homilies and promising to live in obedience and celibacy. 'We've already made the promises that are, I guess, 'the scariest,'' said the Rev. Ricky Malebranche, one of the ordinands. Soon they will be entrusted with more sacraments. As ordained priests, they will work at parishes around northern Virginia, with the ability to consecrate the Eucharist, hear confessions and anoint the sick. For now, they shuffle side to side until they can fit in a row. Carefully they lie down to practice the act of prostration — arguably the most dramatic moment during an ordination ceremony. Elbows bent, hands cradling their heads, the men press their faces to the cold, marble floor. It's a position of vulnerability that signals absolute surrender. 'We're laying before the Lord,' the Rev. Mike Sampson, an ordinand, explained before the rehearsal. 'We're laying our lives down.' While neighboring dioceses have shuttered parishes and face dire budget shortfalls, the Diocese of Arlington is opening new churches. Its finances are solid. This year's class of new priests is the second largest in the diocese's 50-year history. The reasons behind that success 'are a little bit mysterious,' said the Rev. Michael Isenberg, the diocese's outgoing vocations director. He points to one factor helping the recruiting pool: vibrant parishes, full of young professionals drawn to jobs around Washington, D.C. Sampson, 42, was a government lawyer and raised a Protestant before he was baptized as a Catholic in 2013. Six years later, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. The Rev. Tim Banach, 31, worked as a consultant in the same office complex as Sampson. 'I enjoyed the work I was doing, but there was something more that I desired." 'I had the dream job,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta, 40, who earned a doctorate in engineering and was working at the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory when he felt called to the priesthood. 'I had the job that I had trained many years to achieve — and it wasn't enough.' At a Sunday family dinner two weeks before ordination, Malebranche's father, Jacques, talked up these '12 great guys.' 'This kid already had two master's degrees,' he said, pointing to his son Ricky, 37, who worked as a counselor and coach at a Catholic high school before seminary. 'They had good lives. When they say they received a call, they mean it,' he said. 'They gave up a lot, and this is not easy.' A higher barrier to entry Prospective priests undergo a rigorous screening process. 'This is going to sound crazy, but they're normal,' said the Rev. Donald J. Planty Jr., who mentored several of this year's ordinands. 'They can talk to anyone.' In the wake of the clergy sex-abuse crisis, there is a greater emphasis on applicants' psychological health and emotional well-being. They go before an admissions board that includes women and laypeople, and as ordinands, meet with abuse survivors. They ultimately answer to Bishop Michael Burbidge, the diocese's avuncular prelate. 'A thing that has changed for the positive in the church is that bishops really know their men,' said Burbidge, who calls, texts and meets with seminarians regularly. 'When I was in seminary, there was no expectation that you would know the bishop.' Politically and theologically, young U.S. priests are more likely to identify as conservative or moderate than their clerical elders who came of age in the 1960s and 1970s, according to a 2023 report from the Catholic Project at Catholic University. For these men in Virginia, the rightward tilt of the U.S. Catholic Church is not a deciding factor in their priesthoods. They have pledged, though, to uphold the church's teachings, which remain conservative on issues such as gender identity, sexual orientation, contraception and abortion. 'I look at the young adults in our parishes, growing up in a world where in many ways the sacred has been removed,' Burbidge said. 'They're looking for something more. 'Give me beauty. Give me truth. Give me clarity.' I see that in young adults in our church, and these men are products of that.' The sacrifices of priestly life For many of the men, priesthood means forgoing dreams of an ordinary family life. 'I thought I was going to be a great dad and have a wonderful family,' Malebranche recalled. 'And I was like, 'Lord, why would you not want that for me?'' For many, there's a grieving process in letting go of that vision, even for deeply Catholic families. 'Every parent wants grandkids,' said Banach, whose career change initially surprised his supportive Catholic parents. Priests give up biological children, he said, but are privileged to raise 'spiritual children.' His fellow ordinand Malebranche ministers to families out of what he calls a 'deep love of my own for a family.' Two weeks before ordination, Malebranche channeled that love into a baptism conducted in Spanish, the parents' native tongue. He was nervous beforehand. A gregarious, gifted speaker, he is less confident in Spanish — though it's necessary in a diocese where nearly half the parishioners are Latino. 'It was a beautiful ceremony,' Gloria Marquez told him after, beaming and holding her 9-month-old. She said she and her husband had tried for nearly 20 years to have a baby. Malebranche teared up, grateful to be part of the longed-for moment. He wants the Catholic Church to be welcoming, especially for those who have been hurt. 'I really just want to make Catholicism warm,' he said. Like all the ordinands, he is very aware that in his clerical garb, he represents the church and the presence of Jesus. 'I have to be on every time I'm in this collar,' Malebranche said. 'That is a fitting weight for the gift of the priesthood, but it is a weight nonetheless.' A new chapter Ordination-day morning had the nervous energy of a wedding, an apt parallel for the impending commitment and pageantry. Anxious parents took their places in pews alongside friends and family who traveled from around the world to witness the ceremony. The evening would bring receptions in honor of the new priests, who would then have two weeks off before their new ministry assignments began. Sampson was going to Italy with a priest friend. Banach was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail with a small kit for the Eucharist in his pack. Tuesta was flying to Lima, Peru, his birthplace, to celebrate with family. Malebranche planned to visit loved ones in his native Virginia. 'I'm kind of looking to show off,' he said, laughing. 'I'll have my confessional stole on me at all times.' When their ordination Mass got underway, it was standing room only, with more than 1,200 well-wishers crowded into the cathedral. As part of the three-hour service, nearly 200 priests lined up to embrace and welcome into the fold their new brothers, now cloaked in ivory and blue robes. At the close of Mass, they walked down the aisle to cheers and applause, and the 12 priests were sent out, like the apostles who had come before them.
Winnipeg Free Press
a day ago
- General
- Winnipeg Free Press
A US diocese defies trends and ordains its largest class of Catholic priests in decades
ARLINGTON, Va. (AP) — They are a day away from becoming Catholic priests, rehearsing for their ordination Mass under the gothic cathedral's arches. It's a balmy Friday afternoon in June, and they are practicing where to stand, when to kneel. The weekend's rituals will be the culmination of six years of seminary and a lifetime of discernment. There are so many of them — more than their diocese has ordained at one time in nearly 30 years — that it's a challenge to fit the whole group in front of the altar. Their bishop likes to call them 'the 12.' Like the 12 apostles of Jesus, their number has become a mantra and a prayer. It offers hope there can still be joy and renewal in a church riven by division, crises and abuse. Among the group there are engineers, a tech company founder and two future military chaplains. They range in age from 28 to 56. Most are U.S.-born, but some trace their roots to faraway countries with a strong Catholic presence: Cameroon, Mexico, Peru, Haiti. They are entering the priesthood at an exciting time, just as the first U.S.-born pope begins his papacy. Yet, there remains an acute shortage of clergy like them. In the U.S., the number of priests has declined by more than 40% since 1970, according to CARA, a research center affiliated with Georgetown University. During their final year of seminary, these 12 men have served as transitional deacons, offering baptisms, homilies and promising to live in obedience and celibacy. 'We've already made the promises that are, I guess, 'the scariest,'' said the Rev. Ricky Malebranche, one of the ordinands. Soon they will be entrusted with more sacraments. As ordained priests, they will work at parishes around northern Virginia, with the ability to consecrate the Eucharist, hear confessions and anoint the sick. For now, they shuffle side to side until they can fit in a row. Carefully they lie down to practice the act of prostration — arguably the most dramatic moment during an ordination ceremony. Elbows bent, hands cradling their heads, the men press their faces to the cold, marble floor. It's a position of vulnerability that signals absolute surrender. 'We're laying before the Lord,' the Rev. Mike Sampson, an ordinand, explained before the rehearsal. 'We're laying our lives down.' Searching for something more While neighboring dioceses have shuttered parishes and face dire budget shortfalls, the Diocese of Arlington is opening new churches. Its finances are solid. This year's class of new priests is the second largest in the diocese's 50-year history. The reasons behind that success 'are a little bit mysterious,' said the Rev. Michael Isenberg, the diocese's outgoing vocations director. He points to one factor helping the recruiting pool: vibrant parishes, full of young professionals drawn to jobs around Washington, D.C. Sampson, 42, was a government lawyer and raised a Protestant before he was baptized as a Catholic in 2013. Six years later, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. The Rev. Tim Banach, 31, worked as a consultant in the same office complex as Sampson. 'I enjoyed the work I was doing, but there was something more that I desired.' 'I had the dream job,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta, 40, who earned a doctorate in engineering and was working at the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory when he felt called to the priesthood. 'I had the job that I had trained many years to achieve — and it wasn't enough.' At a Sunday family dinner two weeks before ordination, Malebranche's father, Jacques, talked up these '12 great guys.' 'This kid already had two master's degrees,' he said, pointing to his son Ricky, 37, who worked as a counselor and coach at a Catholic high school before seminary. 'They had good lives. When they say they received a call, they mean it,' he said. 'They gave up a lot, and this is not easy.' A higher barrier to entry Prospective priests undergo a rigorous screening process. 'This is going to sound crazy, but they're normal,' said the Rev. Donald J. Planty Jr., who mentored several of this year's ordinands. 'They can talk to anyone.' In the wake of the clergy sex-abuse crisis, there is a greater emphasis on applicants' psychological health and emotional well-being. They go before an admissions board that includes women and laypeople, and as ordinands, meet with abuse survivors. They ultimately answer to Bishop Michael Burbidge, the diocese's avuncular prelate. 'A thing that has changed for the positive in the church is that bishops really know their men,' said Burbidge, who calls, texts and meets with seminarians regularly. 'When I was in seminary, there was no expectation that you would know the bishop.' Politically and theologically, young U.S. priests are more likely to identify as conservative or moderate than their clerical elders who came of age in the 1960s and 1970s, according to a 2023 report from the Catholic Project at Catholic University. For these men in Virginia, the rightward tilt of the U.S. Catholic Church is not a deciding factor in their priesthoods. They have pledged, though, to uphold the church's teachings, which remain conservative on issues such as gender identity, sexual orientation, contraception and abortion. 'I look at the young adults in our parishes, growing up in a world where in many ways the sacred has been removed,' Burbidge said. 'They're looking for something more. 'Give me beauty. Give me truth. Give me clarity.' I see that in young adults in our church, and these men are products of that.' The sacrifices of priestly life For many of the men, priesthood means forgoing dreams of an ordinary family life. 'I thought I was going to be a great dad and have a wonderful family,' Malebranche recalled. 'And I was like, 'Lord, why would you not want that for me?'' For many, there's a grieving process in letting go of that vision, even for deeply Catholic families. 'Every parent wants grandkids,' said Banach, whose career change initially surprised his supportive Catholic parents. Priests give up biological children, he said, but are privileged to raise 'spiritual children.' His fellow ordinand Malebranche ministers to families out of what he calls a 'deep love of my own for a family.' Two weeks before ordination, Malebranche channeled that love into a baptism conducted in Spanish, the parents' native tongue. He was nervous beforehand. A gregarious, gifted speaker, he is less confident in Spanish — though it's necessary in a diocese where nearly half the parishioners are Latino. 'It was a beautiful ceremony,' Gloria Marquez told him after, beaming and holding her 9-month-old. She said she and her husband had tried for nearly 20 years to have a baby. Malebranche teared up, grateful to be part of the longed-for moment. He wants the Catholic Church to be welcoming, especially for those who have been hurt. 'I really just want to make Catholicism warm,' he said. Like all the ordinands, he is very aware that in his clerical garb, he represents the church and the presence of Jesus. 'I have to be on every time I'm in this collar,' Malebranche said. 'That is a fitting weight for the gift of the priesthood, but it is a weight nonetheless.' A new chapter Ordination-day morning had the nervous energy of a wedding, an apt parallel for the impending commitment and pageantry. Anxious parents took their places in pews alongside friends and family who traveled from around the world to witness the ceremony. The evening would bring receptions in honor of the new priests, who would then have two weeks off before their new ministry assignments began. Sampson was going to Italy with a priest friend. Banach was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail with a small kit for the Eucharist in his pack. Tuesta was flying to Lima, Peru, his birthplace, to celebrate with family. Malebranche planned to visit loved ones in his native Virginia. 'I'm kind of looking to show off,' he said, laughing. 'I'll have my confessional stole on me at all times.' Sundays Kevin Rollason's Sunday newsletter honouring and remembering lives well-lived in Manitoba. When their ordination Mass got underway, it was standing room only, with more than 1,200 well-wishers crowded into the cathedral. As part of the three-hour service, nearly 200 priests lined up to embrace and welcome into the fold their new brothers, now cloaked in ivory and blue robes. At the close of Mass, they walked down the aisle to cheers and applause, and the 12 priests were sent out, like the apostles who had come before them. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Eater
2 days ago
- Business
- Eater
This Nearly 20-Year-Old Mexican Restaurant Now Hosts A Buzzy Bakery's Pop-Up
Skip to main content Current eater city: Portland, OR Portland Restaurant Openings Family-run Que Pasa Cantina is now open throughout the morning as Mi Familia, an operation from the Dos Hermanos team serving cafe de olla and motuleños Jun 26, 2025, 5:01 PM UTC Portland Restaurant Openings Family-run Que Pasa Cantina is now open throughout the morning as Mi Familia, an operation from the Dos Hermanos team serving cafe de olla and motuleños Jun 26, 2025, 5:01 PM UTC Sarah Drain and Angie Duncan celebrated their restaurant Que Pasa Cantina's 20th anniversary in March 2025, marking two decades as a neighborhood favorite for its expert margaritas, cooking inspired by Duncan's family recipes, and two outdoor patios. Now, the pair are essentially doubling the space's operations by handing the wheel to their staff for a permanent pop-up. Mi Familia Cafe, run by a squad of family members from the Dos Hermanos Bakery camp who've also worked for the Duncan and Drain over the years, opened inside the Que Pasa Cantina space in the last week of May. So far, it runs just for weekend service, Friday through Sunday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. Co-owner Jesus Azcorra, who works front and back of house, has worked at Que Pasa for about 15 years. Two of his brothers started Dos Hermanos Bakery, and Jesus is bringing in fourth brother Jaime for Mi Familia's front of house. All four approached Duncan and Drain to see if they would be open to a cafe inside the Que Pasa Cantina space. Now Jaime runs Mi Familia through the morning while Jesus still mans the kitchen at Que Pasa at night. Azcorra patriarch Gabriel 'Papa Gabe' Azcorra, the fifth family member involved, brought his breakfast recipes to the morning grill. There's menudo, chilaquiles, milanesa, and lots of cafe de olla — courtesy of local Mexico City-born roaster Adriana Lopez's Tostado Coffee. A $10 bombazo arrives picture-perfect on a sourdough English muffin stuffed with bacon, baked eggs, avocado, tomato, Swiss cheese, and cheddar. The arroz con leche, a sweet and subtle affair, comes right from the family cookbook, this one courtesy of matriarch Elodia. Once the Oregon Liquor and Cannabis Commission license clears, Mi Familia'll serve bloody marys, mimosas, micheladas, and whatever else the brothers dream up. 'Jesus is like a son to us,' Drain says. 'He has been the heart and soul of Que Pasa for 14 years.'Indeed this is sort of a who's-who of the Portland area Mexican food industry. Gabriel and Josue Azcorra, both of whom had handled operations at wholesaler Delphina's, launched Dos Hermanos Bakery in 2018. The new Beaverton location for the bakery just opened on June 13 on SW Broadway; the family's original headquarters expanded to a much larger space than its original 1,000-square-foot facility in 2023. Dos Hermanos's baked goods, including vibrant conchas and sandwich bread, are made by some 15 total family members throughout the area. Mi Familia Cafe (1408 SE 12th Avenue, Portland) is open Friday through Sunday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. See More: Portland Restaurant Openings
