Yesterday I experienced one of those moments that are not easily forgotten with one of my colleagues. She is a young woman who has a disabled son and a violent ex-husband with whom she is currently involved in legal proceedings.
She works very hard and I thought of giving her a financial bonus because, with great dedication, she had completed a task that I had entrusted to her. Although given her situation, she sometimes has to be absent due to the court case involving her ex-husband or to some difficulties with her son she is always willing to work. When I gave her the bonus in cash, she burst into tears. Over the weekend money had been stolen from her at a cash machine so this helped to compensate for that loss and it was a greater sum than she had lost. It gave us an opportunity to talk about Providence, Then I remembered something I had heard at an Economy of Communion meeting, namely that “we must anticipate the needs of others”. This prompted me to give her an advance on her wages which, out of humility, she did not dare ask for. We are only stewards.
CK (Argentina) (da “Family News”)
Solidarity
I am an elderly priest collaborator in a parish in Milan, Italy. I also look after some people who are alone and in difficulty, helping them with donations that I receive.
Recently, one particular situation became more serious. I had already booked a place for a few days of summer holiday and I had set aside €140 for extra expenses. After a moment of prayer, I decided to give half of it to the person in need.
This morning, after Mass, an elderly man came up to me and gave me an envelope containing €150. Once again, I found that I was not alone in managing this solidarity.
PL (wrote to us from Milan, Italy)
Recognising one another
Some time ago I began to pay attention to those people whom few notice and whom no one even greets. One day, as I was running to catch the bus, I lost my wallet and went back to look for it. I found a street cleaner who had found it and was trying to track me down. Samuel refused to accept any reward and since then we have met many times to have a coffee.
Fatima is Moroccan, Muslim and works as a cleaner in a neighborhood restaurant. Over time she has told me many things about her family and her homeland. We have talked about beliefs, faith and respect and she demonstrates affection every time she sees me, because no one ever stops to talk “to the cleaner”.
Chaouki is a Tunisian cook who has worked in Italy and Germany, speaks many languages and is a very cultured person. He has taken over a restaurant called “Citizen of the World”: a real statement of respect and tolerance. I told him that I shared his way of thinking and that I was happy to share ideas and actions for a better world. One day I went there to have breakfast with some friends and their surprise was similar to mine in seeing people from various backgrounds who shared his outlook. It’s great to feel surrounded by good people who go about their lives without making a fuss.
Franco and Anna married since 1991, have three children: Benedetta, Francesca and Federico. In August 2025, Franco suddenly left for Heaven, at the age of 63. This news deeply shook many people, not only in their city, Poggio Mirteto (Italy), but also among many friends of the Focolare Movement who knew him, both when he was a Gen (a young member of the Focolare) and, inflamed by the Ideal of Unity, he had said his “Yes” to the call to live for Jesus and also through his work (he worked for years at the Città Nuova publishing house) which brought him into contact with many people.
Together with Anna, their initial “Yes” to forming a family faithful to the promise “where two or more…”, grew throughout their journey of life together, enriched by their commitment in the local community, in particular in the New Families Movement (branch of the Focolare, composed of families who seek to live the spirituality of unity) and by accompanying couples as they prepared for marriage and for the baptism of their children.
After many years at the publishing house, Franco began a new professional experience as a religious education teacher in a technical institute. He gave himself completely to helping his students grow and flourish, despite the difficulties and personal sorrows that the young people confided in him. What remains most vividly in everyone’s memory are his outdoor lessons, in the shade of the trees in the garden outside the school, his profound ability to listen and his smile. His colleagues too remember that smile along with his commitment to creating a family atmosphere in the school through mountain hikes and social occasions.
In the final period of his life came his “Yes” to the call to become a Deacon at the service of the Church. He carried this out with humility, quietly but always present, ready to help anyone in difficulty. Those who met him remember how, always with his big smile, he was able to transform the hearts of those who crossed his path.
Pictured: Franco with his whole family; a trip to the mountains; whilst serving as a deacon
Their home was always open to everyone and still is. Many friends continue to support Anna and their children, thanks to the love sown over the years.
Even during Franco’s time in hospital, the last week before his death, the doctors were impressed by the continuous stream of young people who came to visit him to say a last goodbye, embrace the family, or simply to be there at their side for a prayer together.
A colleague of his, who described himself an unbeliever, hailed him as “the closest person to the Gospel” he had ever known.
At his funeral in a church packed with people, many young people also gathered in the churchyard: one of their banners read, “You spoke to us of faith but you taught us love”. A large group of priests and deacons stood on the altar around Bishop Ernesto Mandara.
During the homily, Don Mauro Guida, parish priest of the Cathedral of S. Maria Assunta in Poggio Mirteto, quoting Saints Laurence, Claire, Joan, Pontian and Hippolytus, remembered by the Church in the previous days, said: “Every time, every name, every word, every face of holiness, seemed to be the portrait of our dear Franco. Just as once upon a time children showed each other their picture cards, repeating to one another “I have that one, I have it…”, so Franco had suddenly become the image of someone who possessed every quality that could be described or even imagined; “the holiness of the saint next door”, as Pope Francis called it “.
Margaret Karram and Jesus Moran, President and Copresident (in 2025) of the Focolare, said in a letter, “We were deeply moved by the news of Franco’s call to Heaven and fascinated as we followed the story of his life. We assure our prayers and deep gratitude for his beautiful and luminous life. In the certainty that he is has already been welcomed by Jesus, we feel that he is a protector of New Families and of the New Generations. We are united in a very special way to Anna and their children”.
Pictured: the opening of the outdoor classroom at the school where he taught
The school where Franco worked, the IIS Gregorio da Catino di Poggio Mirteto, decided to create an outdoor classroom dedicated to him. This is the post published on the school’s Facebook page: “there are teachers who leave an indelible mark through the way they look at the world: Franco Fortuna was one of them. Today (5th June 2026) in order to remember the love he had for outdoor lesson, we have inaugurated a real outdoor classroom (…). We hope that it can become a place where students can continue to learn, to share ideas and dream, just as Prof. Fortuna would have liked”.
Lorenzo Russo Photos: courtesy of the Fortuna family
Some time ago, thanks to modern technology, after many years of not seeing each other my former school classmates reunited: we created a group on WhatsApp. Between anecdotes and old photos, we managed to identify a companion that no one had heard from anymore and we added him to the group.
He told us that he lived on the street. A series of health problems, a battle with cancer, losing his job and family break up had left him with nothing. At first, some of us contributed some money, but faced with a second call for help, the response was silence or rejection.
Even though we hadn’t been close friends at school, I felt couldn’t just look on. I thought that since he had reappeared in my life through that WhatsApp group, I should do something. I couldn’t simply ignore him
I decided to meet him. I wanted to see for myself how he was doing and listen to him. He had spent a few days in a hostel, but had soon ended up back on the street. I didn’t have the means to solve his housing problem or offer him a home, but I felt the need to discern what God wanted from me in that situation.
We met and talked for a long time. I was deeply moved by the decline in his physical health, so I offered to help him with a natural medicine that I could provide so that, at least, he might regain a bit of peace and well-being. But beyond his physical state, I remembered that he had once felt a strong religious vocation and that he had even been on the verge of entering the seminary. I asked him about his faith.
He told me that he had distanced himself from everything; he had not set foot in a church or approached the sacraments for years. With complete sincerity, I advised him that since his illness was progressing and he felt in danger, he should seek refuge in God.
I suggested that he go to Mass, talk to a priest and, if he felt up to it, go to confession. The next day he called me overcome with emotion. He had gone to church, gone to confession and received communion. He thanked me from the bottom of his heart because he realized that, having lost all material things, his relationship with God was the only thing he really had left.
We’re still in touch today. He managed to get a pension and is feeling a little better. I continue to help him with this natural medicine complementary to his treatment and, every now and then, we meet for coffee or I bring him something he needs, like a pair of trainers. But over time I have come to understand that the most important thing was neither medicine nor shoes: it was the fact that someone stopped to talk to him.
Sometimes, a “neighbour” appears in a WhatsApp group and we run the risk of leaving them trapped in virtuality, where no one assumes any responsibility. My friend taught me that being attentive to another person’s needs, even if we cannot provide a definitive solution, is already a lot. If we could all make even a small gesture, how different things would be for other people! Let’s not allow others to be just a message on a screen, let’s make our help concrete, human and, above all, present.
In my younger years, in disagreement with my parish priest whom I considered too authoritarian and rigid, I gradually drifted away from religious practice. Then the witness of a group of Christians who were living out Jesus’ new commandment (Jn. 13:34 -35) made me rethink things and the change of lifestyle that followed led me first of all to seek reconciliation with those I had judged. I apologized to the priest and we cleared things up. Behind certain discouraging attitudes, I discovered a heart capable of understanding. A few years later, having made a radical choice of God, I went to share it with the parish priest who by then had become a friend. He wasn’t expecting it and knowing my artistic skills, he asked me to decorate a noticeboard on which he usually posted the announcements of the pilgrimages he organized for the parishioners. It was a modest gesture, but for him it was significant and sealed the new harmony established between us.
(F. Italy)
Michel and his boys
Michel was responsible for the human and spiritual formation of a group of teenagers. During the Easter holidays he took them for a sort of retreat in a boarding school that had been left empty by the students who had gone home. There were about 30 boys, all very lively. The first night, spent playing games went well. The hard part was bedtime, when one could expect some mischief. So, once they went to bed and turned off all the lights, Michel waited. Silence. After 10 pm, he heard some bedroom doors opening softly. He let them all slip out and then suddenly stepped out himself turning on the lights in the hallway. The boys froze, expecting a scolding. Instead Michel exclaimed: “And now… let’s all go into town to eat frites” (French fries made in Belgium with a special technique: a local specialty). The boys didn’t expect it. Happy, they went out and each one had a cone of frites. Then, satisfied, they returned to their accommodation quietly. Won over by Michel, the retreat was very successful.
(G.F. Belgium)
My at risk students
Before discovering the Gospel as a code for life, as a teenager I thought that following Jesus meant giving up many things: now I know that the only thing you have to give up is your own selfishness. Everything else is a gain. After that change of direction, I felt more and more strongly the need to deepen, through theological studies, my knowledge of the God who changed my life. For me now, teaching religion in classes where there is no shortage of students at risk is a mission that stems from the duty to share the gift I have received. It is not easy: in general, because of their social background, poverty and perhaps also the lack of role models, they are a blank slate when it comes to religion. They see the Church with its precepts as distant and outdated. The first step then, is to make friends with them, to get to know their interests. In everyone, there is always something positive to highlight and then, by building on that, it is easier for them to open up and welcome the Christian message.
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.
