One of the most fundamental truths I have come to know is that we are all—all—in this life together. I live alongside my family; refugees fleeing war halfway across the world; people I disagree with politically; the butterflies that soar above me and the tiny creatures in the soil I walk upon. And so do you. We are neighbors on this planet, responsible for one another’s well-being, bound by an unspoken duty to care for one another.

My belief was recently reaffirmed during my participation at the inaugural Mass for the Care of Creation on July 9. A new formulary now added to the Roman Missal, the Mass was celebrated by Pope Leo XIV for the staff of Borgo Laudato Si’, an initiative of the Vatican created by Pope Francis and focused on integral ecology and sustainability. As a summer intern at the Laudato Si’ Center for Higher Education, the organization responsible for realizing the mission of the Borgo Laudato Si’ project, I was lucky to attend the Mass with my colleagues and contribute to the Borgo’s programming prior to its official inauguration on Sept. 5. The Madonnina Garden, a particularly peaceful area within the property assigned to the Borgo at the Apostolic Palace of Castel Gandolfo, provided an apt setting. Despite the formalities that accompanied Pope Leo’s presence, the experience was strikingly familial. I was moved by the perceptible sense of interconnectedness that enveloped the space. Surrounded by the warmth of the sun, a cool breeze and the soft chirping of birds, I found myself completely calm and fully present.

Yet, simultaneously, the Mass pushed me into unfamiliar territory. It was conducted entirely in Italian, a language in which I have only limited proficiency. I remained intensely focused for the entire hour, attempting to read the lips of those that were speaking, translating what I could and noticing every detail, from the subtle smile of Pope Leo as he began his homily to the sight of the candlelight flickering in the wind. The language barrier, though a restriction for me, revealed a relationship I felt with those beside me that transcended the spoken word. We were unified simply by our shared presence and faith.

During his homily, Pope Leo expressed that “only a contemplative gaze can change our relationship with creation and bring us out of the ecological crisis.” This sentiment paid homage to the legacy of Pope Francis, echoing the message of his 2015 encyclical, “Laudato Si’,” from which Borgo Laudato Si’ takes its name. Referring to nature as a “constant source of wonder and awe,” Francis established the idea of harmony as something intrinsic to the created world, calling us to a heightened sensory awareness of our surroundings (No. 85). This invitation is as much about perception as it is participation. It invites us into a new way of seeing, reawakening our fundamental relationship with our neighbors and evoking a meaningful response to injustice. It enables us to be, in the words of the Jesuits, “contemplatives in action”—a people moved to act by what is stirred in our hearts. As both Pope Francis and Pope Leo XIV have reiterated, a collective conversion of heart stands as the ultimate goal.

Later in the Mass, the prayer of the faithful made reference to this past summer’s floods in Texas, a moment that brought our shared human vulnerability into sharper focus. Its inclusion was a poignant sign of solidarity, a reminder of what it means to walk alongside one another in times of despair, even from 5,000 miles away. It also surfaced our broader complicity in causing environmental harm and our need to reflect on the responsibility we have to care for our common home.

The Mass for the Care of Creation has the unique potential to catalyze such reflection, bridging political divides and promoting mutual clarity around the urgent issue of climate change. The pews of our churches can serve as areas of common ground if we, as neighbors, allow them to.

Pope Francis, in his more recent encyclical “Fratelli Tutti,” again called us to adopt a posture of neighborly love: “I should no longer say that I have neighbors to help, but that I must myself be a neighbor to others” (No. 81). This renewed relationality positions us to “draw near to others with no questions asked;” to recognize the sacred and social nature that unites us as human beings created in the image of a trinitarian God (No. 81).

To be neighborly, to draw near, means to make a conscious and deliberate effort to engage with others across differences, reorienting ourselves away from the silos—social, political and otherwise—that we so easily retreat into these days. In an American landscape entrenched in the convenience of digital connection yet strained by deep division, such dialogue and proximity to others is crucial. Though uncomfortable, this way of being prepares us to more fully accept the invitation to the Eucharistic table. It expands our understanding of who we consider our neighbor to be, fulfilling Pope Francis’ vision of creating an “ever wider we,” as Francis put it in his message for the World Day of Migrants and Refugees in 2021.

Drawing from the parable of the good Samaritan, Pope Francis also underscores in “Fratelli Tutti” that the Samaritan “gave [the man] something that in our frenetic world we cling to tightly: he gave him time” (No. 63). If we are to be neighbors with all living beings, we must also take the time to recognize the divinity inherent in them. This process necessitates a slowed pace and careful concentration, disrupting our habituated desire for instant gratification. Maybe you take a few extra seconds to appreciate the vibrant colors of the food on your dinner table. Maybe you become attentive to the trees swaying in the wind as you walk your dog. Everyday occurrences serve as clear examples of the sacredness that surrounds us if we welcome them as such.

I, for one, believe that this utopian-sounding idea of neighborliness is not as distant from our current world as it might seem. I see it when strangers pass each other and wave. I hear it in the songs of choirs. I feel it in the tranquility of my walks through nature. It is because of these small moments that I have faith in our ability to come together. The Mass for the Care of Creation offers an accessible starting point to harness this hope for the common good. May we live inside our hope and act as neighbors, holding each other in love, through love, and with love, as we were originally made to do.

Molly Wysocki is a senior at Boston College.