Conversations with people who carry God in their hearts, every day.
We read about a crime, feel angry, and think of those who suffered harm. That reaction deserves respect. When a young person is involved, however, conversation often adds a judgment about their future: there is nothing more to be done for them.
READ THE STORY ↗
When we say “I will be there”, we rarely imagine every form those words might take. We picture a telephone call, a journey together, a difficult day. Then illness can change time, gestures and the ways we stay close. How do we continue loving when we cannot make everything return to the way it used to be between us?
READ THE STORY ↗
You changed phones but kept that message. Just a few words, perhaps without perfect punctuation. Somebody wrote them at the right moment and occasionally you return to them. They did not solve your whole life. They made you feel reached.
READ THE STORY ↗
A galaxy photograph appears between a message and an advertisement. You enlarge it: lights, shapes and colours seemingly far removed from your day. For a few seconds you keep looking. Then a notification arrives and the sky slips beneath your thumb.
READ THE STORY ↗
Some journeys are almost memorised. The bend, the traffic light, where the congestion begins. For Tonino Zugarelli, travelling to work is a space for prayer too. He told Vatican News very directly that he prays in the car, or rather talks to the Lord. A sentence bringing faith into an ordinary morning.
READ THE STORY ↗
Some couples first become known to you through an anniversary. A photograph, a cake, the number of years spent together. The duration strikes you. Then you want to know what that time contains: habits, changes, choosing one another again and the people encountered along the way.
READ THE STORY ↗
When I get there, I will be happy. Perhaps we do not put it quite like that, but sometimes we organise our days around this promise: a job, a home, an achievement that should finally put our inner lives in order too. Then we arrive and discover that the question has followed us.
READ THE STORY ↗
Sometimes a question begins long after an encounter. A scene returns while you are doing something else; a word keeps working within you. You notice that the way you responded says something about you. And you do not want to turn away.
READ THE STORY ↗
Some conversations about faith seem to demand a different voice before you begin: serious, composed, with the right words. Then someone tells you about a stumble, makes you laugh and, as you laugh, you realise the question involves you too.
READ THE STORY ↗
An audition can end with a no. The trouble begins when that doesn't seem to talk about your whole person. A public witness of Beatrice Fazi opens a question about the value we entrust to work.
READ THE STORY ↗
A pianist, a young priest and discussions that seemed to lead nowhere. In the public account of Giovanni Allevi, that friendship left something that has grown over time.
READ THE STORY ↗
When words are not enough, can the body express a thank you? The public testimonies of Simona Atzori open a question on faith and art.
READ THE STORY ↗
Do you know what you're going to answer while the other person is still talking? A memory told by Giacomo Poretti puts us in front of a very daily question.
READ THE STORY ↗
A champion speaks to the graduates and brings two Latin words to the stage. We find them today to talk about our new beginnings, even when they don't applaud anyone.
READ THE STORY ↗
The Chosen actor told Vatican News how the role affected his faith. A public testimony to hear while distinguishing the person from the character.
READ THE STORY ↗