I come from a divided family background; I was born from an extramarital relationship of my father. Because of this, he kept my existence a secret, and for a long time—especially as a child—I experienced his temporary absence.
I felt there was something dark or hidden in my story. What I didn’t know was that Jesus would begin a process of radical conversion in my father’s life, one that would lead him to become a Pentecostal pastor.
My story and the sense of abandonment could very well have been reasons to turn away from faith. However, that is not what happened. Faced with the experience of abandonment, I couldn’t help but wonder about the kind of love that, even amid a child’s pain, had reached my father’s life. I often asked myself, “What kind of love is this, capable of piercing through the pain I’m feeling?” At age 16, during a high school graduation cruise, I encountered that love. One evening, sitting at the top of the ship, I clearly heard the Lord’s voice speak to my heart: “You weren’t born to do what your friends are doing, Mayara, you are mine.” Thanks to what began that night, I became a committed Pentecostal.
At the age of 19, I enrolled in the Pontifical Catholic University of São Paulo (Brazil) to study theology. In a story that only the Holy Spirit could write, I became President of the Academic Centre and of the Student Theology Commission for the state of São Paulo. I became good friends with some seminarians, had contact with various dioceses and religious orders and several priests often visited my home. At first, my mother joked, “I never imagined I’d have so many priests in my house, Mayara.”
Through that experience, I decided to write my final thesis on Christian unity. But as I began to explore what path to take, many things happened that led me to reflect on my family history. I went through a deep process of forgiveness and reconciliation. And so, as I forgave, I wrote. I always remembered how painful it can be to come from a divided family. But it was precisely in those moments that the Lord also asked me: “And my family, the Church?” I felt I could and indeed had to, join my experience of abandonment to that of Jesus.
“I decided to write my final thesis on Christian unity (…) and many things happened that led me to reflect on my family history. I went through a deep process of forgiveness and reconciliation.”.
In the photo: Mayara during the Ecumenical Congress in Castel Gandolfo in March 2025
Drawing from the shared heritage of Sacred Scripture, I concluded that painful period with a thesis entitled: “The Spirit and the Bride Say: Come! The Figure of the Bride as a Prophetic Response to the Unity of the Church”. It was this step led me into Catholic-Pentecostal dialogue: with the Commission for Unity of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal-SP and the “We Are One” mission. Founded by laypeople within a Catholic community (Coração Novo–RJ), the We Are One Mission is based on a letter of intent signed by Catholic and Evangelical leaders that outlines four pillars for dialogue: respect for confessional identities, ecclesiality, non-proselytism and a culture of encounter. The city of Rio de Janeiro even officially recognizes a “We Are One Week” which has surprisingly been declared part of the city’s intangible cultural heritage. In practice, the Mission brings together Evangelical, Catholic and Pentecostal leaders with a common purpose: to proclaim the unity of Christians. Theological dialogue was made possible by the creation of a national Catholic-Pentecostal working group (WG). Its aim is to reflect theologically and pastorally on the charismatic-pentecostal experience, starting from the Latin American context. We recently published our first report, the result of our meetings, on the gifts of the Holy Spirit. In 2022, the We Are One Youth Mission began, a group in which I am wholeheartedly and actively involved. For these reasons, I see the We Are One Mission as a sign of hope. First, for all the communion I’ve experienced and secondly, because my personal story is undoubtedly intertwined with it.
Entrusted with the role of being “pilgrims of hope,” I would like to conclude with a phrase my father often repeats when telling the story of our family. He says, countless times, that our story was born in pain and wounds but was bathed in God’s infinite love: “Tribulation became vocation.” When my father glimpses this reality, he always quotes St. Paul’s letter to the Romans: “Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20). Paraphrasing this biblical text, during this 2025Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, in the year of the Jubilee and the celebration of many significant anniversaries such as the Council of Nicaea, I am encouraged and led to believe that: amidst so many deep wounds throughout the Church’s history, God is surely making His hope abound.
We are Aureliana and Julián from Paraguay, married for 36 years, with five children and six grandchildren.
JULIAN: Aureliana was 18 and I was 19 when we married. We were deeply in love and excited to build our life together. The first five years were wonderful, we were great partners, we worked together, helped each other and complemented one another. But after seven years of marriage, we entered a deep crisis that almost led to separation. Communication became difficult: we couldn’t talk about ourselves or our relationship and this gradually distanced us. Still, we both wanted to do our best for our daughters and to progress economically. Each of us lived in our own way, we argued a lot, but managed to keep going.
AURELIANA: When our daughters reached adolescence, one of them was very rebellious and, at 17, she became pregnant and went to live with her partner. That was when we started seeking support to strengthen ourselves as parents, also in a spiritual way. We began attending family group meetings and spiritual retreats. That helped us overcome tough challenges, with each of us putting in a lot of goodwill.
JULIAN: We had achieved economic stability, we had a good family, good health and a well-established family business – we had everything! One day, I started interacting with someone through social media, we got to know each other, and I began an extramarital relationship. At the same time, my sick father was living with us and our daughter was finding it very hard to adapt to motherhood. Aureliana had to stretch herself thin to support her, keep working and manage the home. I was deeply involved in that affair and did nothing to help Aureliana. In fact, I claimed I had no time, she would complain and I would get angry. At that time, we travelled to Europe and during the trip, Aureliana found out about my infidelity. Everything collapsed. We were far from everyone, alone within the four walls of a hotel room.
AURELIANA: My world fell apart! I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t believe something like this had happened. At first, I stayed silent, hoping we could finish the trip, but then I exploded: I broke the silence by screaming, crying and demanding an answer. He, for his part, began to desperately beg for mercy, asking forgiveness from God and from me and despite the terrible pain I was in, it touched my heart. I knew I had to take a step and I placed all my trust in God’s help to do so. I finally managed to see the face of the crucified Jesus in Julián. I opened my arms to him and we calmed down a little. However, despite this interior step, I was still often overwhelmed by pain and sadness.
“That is what we want to proclaim to the world: we are here in order to be ‘one’ as the Lord wants us to be ‘one,’ in our families and in those places where we live, work and study. Different, yet one; many, yet one; always, in every situation and at every stage of life. (…) Let us not forget: families are the cradle of the future of humanity.”
JULIAN: At night, Aureliana couldn’t sleep, she cried. She was diagnosed with depression. I felt helpless and guilty. I prayed a lot. I felt that my wife and family were incredibly precious to me, but the damage was done. I had to accept my mistake, but I also wanted to give my all and trust in God.
AURELIANA: Our family was divided, the children didn’t know whom to blame and they rebelled. Then Julián became ill: he was diagnosed with a brain tumour. That shook me deeply and almost snapped me out of my depression. After receiving the CT scan results, we gathered with our children and looked for the best surgical option. We felt that the unity of our family was the most precious good, more than any disagreement. I came to realize that I was once again capable of giving my life for my husband and fully living out my fidelity to him, “in sickness and in health.”
JULIAN: I felt loved and managed to undergo two brain surgeries with record recovery times. Immediately after being discharged, we had the opportunity to attend a retreat for couples in crisis, as we still needed to heal our wounds.
AURELIANA: That retreat helped me clarify many doubts. We received great affection from the participants and benefited from the presence of professionals and couples with many years of experience. We discovered a new path forward.
JULIAN: I realized that the will to forgive is one thing, but healing the trauma is a process. The wound I had caused was very deep and she needed time, patience, and love from me. I received the greatest gift from God—her forgiveness. We renewed our marriage vows, Aureliana said her “YES” to me again forever, and we started over.
AURELIANA: Our life has completely changed. After 35 years of marriage, we stopped fighting. We now live a full life as a couple and can look each other in the eyes and love each other like never before.
It was the birthday of a dear friend with whom I had shared ideals, joys, and sorrows. But it had been a long time since I had written to him or seen him. I hesitated a little: I could send him a message, but I didn’t know how he would take it. The Word of Life encouraged me: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you” (Jn. 21:17). He replied shortly later: “What a joy to receive your greeting.” And a dialogue began: messages went back and forth. He told me about himself. He was satisfied with his job, had an excellent salary and confided that he wanted to come visit me. I encouraged him and made myself available to welcome him and help organize his stay. One more reason to keep him in mind… and not wait another year to send him a message.
(C. A.- Italia)
Crushed by pride
I could forgive Miguel for the evenings he spent in the tavern, but not for the infidelity he once confessed. I was the good wife and mother, the victim. However, ever since he had been spending time with Father Venancio and others from the parish, my husband seemed like a different man: he was more present at home, more affectionate with me. I, on the other hand, remained distant every time he suggested we read the Gospel together and try to put it into practice. Once, because it was his birthday, I agreed to go with him to a family meeting. That was the first of many. One day, a phrase struck me: “Build peace.” How could I do that, having discovered how selfish, full of misery and resentment I was? Pride kept me from asking Miguel for forgiveness, while he, in our 28 years of marriage, had asked me for forgiveness more than once. Still, I searched for the right moment. Until one day, at a family group meeting, after asking God for help, I managed to share our experience as a couple and ask Miguel for forgiveness. That day, I felt a new, true love for him be reborn.
(R. – Mexico)
Caring for Others
Since I’ve been spending time in Havana, neck-deep in the daily struggles of our neighbourhood residents amid the country’s severe economic crisis, I’m still not used to the timely interventions of Providence. Among the many, this is the most recent. Someone from our community told me about a substantial donation of quality medicines, all related to the treatment of nervous disorders. I was a bit perplexed since they didn’t match the usual categories of medications needed by the poor who come to us but I went to collect them anyway. Then I remembered that once a month, on Monday mornings, a psychiatrist visits our neighbourhood to provide free consultations to those in need. So, at the first opportunity, I contacted him and showed him the list of medicines. As he read through, his face lit up: “These are exactly what I was looking for!” he exclaimed, astonished.
(R.Z. – Cuba)
Compiled by Maria Grazia Berretta (taken from The Gospel of the Day, New City, year X– no.1 May-June 2025)
I’m Letícia Alves and I live in the north of Brazil, in Pará.
In 2019 I took part in the Amazon Project, and for 2 weeks a group of volunteers and I dedicated our holidays to living with the people of the lower Amazon, in the city of Óbidos.
Before embarking on this adventure, I wondered if I would be able to give myself completely to this experience, which was set in a reality so different from my own. During the project we visited some riverside communities living on the banks of the Amazon River, and everyone welcomed us with unrivalled love.
We provided health, legal and family support services, but the most important thing was to listen deeply and share the lives, stories and difficulties of those we met. The stories were all very diverse: the lack of drinking water, the child who had a toothbrush for the whole family, or even the son who wanted to kill his mother… The more we listened, the more we understood the meaning of our presence there.
“The urgent challenge to protect our common home includes a concern to bring the whole human family TOGETHER”
LS, 13
And among so many stories, I was able to see how much we can make a difference to people’s lives: how much just listening makes a difference, how much a bottle of drinking water makes all the difference.
The project was more than special. We were able to plant a seed of love in the midst of so much suffering and “building together” made us grow. When Jesus is present among us, everything becomes inspiring, full of light and joy.
It wasn’t something I lived for just 2 weeks and that was it, but it was an experience that really transformed my life, I felt a strong presence of God and that gave me the strength to embrace the sufferings of humanity that surround me in this daily construction of a united world.
My name is Francisco. I was born in Juruti in the Amazon, a town near Óbidos. I was surprised to learn that people from different parts of Brazil were travelling across the country to give of themselves to take care of my people and I wanted to join them.
What struck me most was the happiness among everyone, the volunteers and the local people, who even though they lived with very few material possessions, experienced the greatness of God’s love.
After experiencing the Amazonia project in Óbidos, I returned to Juruti with a new outlook and the desire to continue this mission, but in my own town. Over there, I saw the same needs that I had found in Óbidos. This desire became not just mine, but that of our entire community, which embraced the cause. Together we came up with the idea and gave birth to the Amazonia project in the community of São Pedro with the aim of listening and responding to the “cry” of those who need it most, of those who are often not heard. We chose a community on the mainland, began to monitor their needs and then went in search of professionals who could help as volunteers.
With the collaboration of several people, we brought the life of the Gospel, medical care, psychological care, medicines and dental care to that entire community. Above all, we tried to stop and listen to the difficulties and joys of those we met.
I have one certainty: in order to build a more fraternal and united world, we are called to listen to the cries of those who suffer around us and to act, with the certainty that everything done with love is not small and can change the world!
On 18th March, 2025, Luciana Scalacci left us. She was an extraordinary woman, a living witness of concrete and active commitment to 360° dialogue. Luciana, who was married to Nicola, both of non-religious beliefs, always felt that dialogue is a fundamental aspect of contemporary society which is characterised by many forms of division and conflict. A few years ago during a Focolare meeting, Luciana said, “My husband and I are non-believers, or rather, non-believers in God, because we believe in humanity and its potential”.
Luciana was born in Abbadia San Salvatore, a town in the province of Siena. From childhood, she was always committed to the least and the weakest, conveying values of honesty, inclusion and equality to everyone. Nicola and she were engaged in politics and trade unions through leftist activism, always focused on the values of justice, dialogue and freedom. Their encounter with the Focolare Movement came through their daughter Mascia.
Luciana recounted, “One day, our daughter wrote us a letter, in essence saying: ‘Dear parents, I have found a place where I can live out the values you always taught me. She had discovered the Focolare Movement”. So, to better understand their daughter’s decision, Luciana and Nicola decided to attend a Focolare event. “It was a meeting of people of different beliefs, but we didn’t know that. So, to avoid any confusion, we made a point of stating our political and religious position right away. The answer was: ‘And who asked you anyway!’ We immediately had the impression of being in an environment where there was respect for the ideas of others, we found an openness that we had never encountered in other associations or religious movements”.
From that moment on and in the years to come, Luciana Scalacci’s contribution to the Focolare Movement was vital. She first met Chiara Lubich, founder of Focolare in 1995. Alongside her, Luciana worked to initiate and deepen dialogue with people of non-religious convictions, a dialogue that gained strength in large part thanks to Luciana’s enlightened intelligence.
Since 2000 she was a member of the International Commission for Dialogue with People of Non-Religious Convictions, thus contributing to the organisation of conferences such as In Dialogue for Peace, Conscience and Poverty, Women and Men for a Society of Solidarity and many others. Luciana felt in full harmony with the Ideal of unity, through her personal meeting with Chiara and with the Focolare community. She once told a friend: “This dialogue (between people of different beliefs) was born not to convert non-believers, but because with Chiara we understood that the united world is built with everyone. May they all be one. If we exclude even one, it’s no longer All”.
On 26th September, 2014, during an audience granted to the Focolare, she greeted Pope Francis. She recalled the moment in a letter she wrote to the Pope while he was hospitalized at the Gemelli Polyclinic. “On that extraordinary day, I had the privilege of exchanging a few words with you that I will never forget. Now, dear Pope Francis, you are in a hospital bed and I am too. Both of us face the frailty of our humanity. I wanted to assure you that I continue to think about you and to pray for you in a secular way. You pray for me in a Christian way “.
There were many tears of gratitude and deeply heartfelt words of thanks on the day of her funeral. One tribute in particular came from Vita Zanolini, a focolarina and friend of Luciana and Nicola. “Luciana: friend, sister, companion on the frontiers of what is new, but with respect for history and roots, teacher of life and much more,” said Vita, remembering her. “Thinking of her, of her freedom, brings to mind bright and clear skies, intensely colourful; a clear spring that in its sweet and silent flow, becomes a rushing waterfall. A fire burning in a welcoming home reflecting an ever open heart. But also a refined and rich menu with delicious and always creative recipes. Resilience, respect, listening, tenacity in all shades …
Years ago at one of the conferences on dialogue someone asked a rather original question: ‘What is the difference between a believer and a non-believer?’ Luciana’s answer, which was perhaps surprising for many, was: ‘Believers believe in God, Non-believers… God believes in them.’ And I think we can say that Luciana did not disappoint or betray the faith that God had in her!”
Luciana spent the last days of her earthly life in a hospice. She was always very vigilant and proactive in communicating what was in her heart. Despite her shortness of breath, she gave her final advice (sometimes with playful mock threats) with an extraordinary strength interspersed with the memories and stories of the many experiences lived together. Vita added, “It was as she were passing on the baton to us. Our goodbye hug was heart-wrenching and at the same time very serene, with a hint of eternity”.
A few weeks ago, I was part of the MED25 project, a school-ship for peace. We were 20 young people from across the Mediterranean—North, South, East, and West—sailing together on a boat called “Bel Espoir.” We set off from Barcelona, and since the weather wasn’t as expected, we stopped in Ibiza before reaching Ceuta. From there, we traveled overland to Tetouan and then returned to Malaga. It wasn’t just a trip—it was a journey into each other’s lives, minds, and cultures.
Living on a boat with so many different people was beautiful, but not always easy. Every day, we had to share responsibilities: cooking, serving meals, cleaning, washing dishes. We rotated tasks in teams, so everyone experienced the full rhythm of life onboard. We also learned how to sail—which was pretty wild at first. I wish I could say it eventually became second nature, but in truth, it was harder than expected. You quickly learn how much teamwork it takes to move forward—literally.
But we weren’t there just to sail and cook. We were there to talk—really talk. We explored eight big topics together: culture, education, the role of women, religion, the environment, migration, Christian traditions, and of course, peace. These weren’t theoretical discussions. They were deeply personal. We shared our perspectives, and sometimes, we clashed. Some discussions got heated. There were moments of frustration. Some conversations even turned into real arguments.
But here’s the truth—on a boat, you can’t just walk away. You can’t go home and sleep it off. You live together. You eat together. You sail together. You are literally in the same boat. And that changes everything. It makes it impossible to stay angry for long. We had to talk it out. We had to listen. And sometimes, we had to admit we were wrong.
That, for me, was the most powerful part of the experience. I realized that most conflicts—between people or nations—don’t come from hatred. They come from ignorance. From stereotypes. From misinformation. And just like we had the chance to truly get to know each other on that boat, the world can do the same. If we could overcome years of misunderstanding in just two weeks together, imagine what could be possible if people were truly willing to listen.
I also discovered many unexpected things. Like how Lent is celebrated differently in Europe compared to the Middle East. Or how religion plays a completely different role in politics and public life depending on where you are. In Europe, it’s often a private matter, whereas in many Middle Eastern countries, it shapes laws, policies, and daily life. These weren’t just facts—I felt the difference through the people I lived with.
What touched me the most was that, despite all our differences, we had so much in common. We laughed a lot. We danced. We got seasick together. We also fasted together, since it was both Lent and Ramadan. We created art, read books, got silly, prayed in many different languages at the same time, discovered religions like Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism, slept under the open sky, and shared quiet, sacred moments. And through all that, I realized that peace isn’t something far off or unreachable. It’s deeply human. It’s messy, and it takes work. But it’s possible.
I came back changed. Not because I think we’ve solved all our problems, but because I now believe that peace isn’t a dream—it’s a choice. A choice that starts with truly seeing and listening to the other.
And if 20 strangers could do that together on a boat in the middle of the sea, then there’s hope for the rest of the world too.
