Daniel Esparza

Closing his Spanish journey, Leo XIV condemned those who profit from migration and called integration a way to prevent a “second shipwreck.”

From the world’s tallest church, to a film about refusing to look up, to migrants met face to face, Leo XIV’s Spanish motto asks far more of us than a glance at heaven.

At Castel Gandolfo, the pope addressed Iran, migration, his Spain trip, and the looming SSPX schism — all in an informal Tuesday exchange with waiting journalists.

The phrase Pope Leo XIV carried through Spain last week has deep biblical roots — and only twice in Scripture does God or Christ issue it as a direct command.

In the Gospel of John, the disciples' first question and their last are mirror images of each other. The Greek makes the connection impossible to miss.

World Refugee Day falls this year on the 75th anniversary of the Refugee Convention. The Catholic tradition has never needed a convention to know what is owed to the stranger.

Long before therapy, before the novel, before the examined life became a dominant cultural ideal, a 5th-century bishop in North Africa mapped the territory we now call the self.

From a 5th-century cave shrine to pilgrimage routes tracing a king's footsteps, Malta's Marian devotion is written into every stone, street, and festa of the archipelago.

Ten days after Pope Leo XIV told the city to lift its eyes, the sky over the Gothic Quarter rained 100,000 verses where bombs once fell.

We have forgotten how to stop. Augustine has some surprisingly practical advice. Somewhere between the last work email and the first day of vacation, something goes wrong.