The Doyle Engaging Difference Program - Georgetown University

When I arrived in Florence for my semester abroad, I expected to be surrounded by art, history, and beautiful architecture. What I didn’t fully expect was how deeply intertwined all of that would be with Catholicism. From the ringing of church bells to frescoes in every museum, to chapels tucked away in busy neighborhoods, the presence of the Catholic Church was everywhere. I experienced this even more intensely later in the semester, when I visited Rome and saw the Vatican firsthand. Being in these spaces helped me better understand how central Catholicism is to Italy’s identity—not just as a religion, but as a cultural and historical force. Even though I come from a different faith tradition I gained deep appreciation of many of the things I encountered. I didn’t feel pressure to conform, and I wasn’t questioning my own beliefs. But I did find that being in places like Saint Peter’s Basilica gave me a new kind of respect for how people practice and preserve their traditions. When I stood near the site where Saint Peter is believed to be buried, I felt a sense of reverence—not because it was sacred to me personally, but because I could see how much it meant to those around me, and how deeply rooted it was in history.

In that moment, I found myself reflecting on the value of long-standing tradition. Hinduism is the world’s oldest religion, and I’ve always felt something powerful about carrying forward rituals that are thousands of years old. Being in a place so central to Catholicism helped me appreciate the shared human experience of honoring the past, even across very different faiths. The experience didn’t change what I believe, but it expanded how I think about belief itself. I started to realize that appreciation doesn’t have to mean agreement. You can respect a tradition, a practice, or even a worldview without feeling like it has to become your own. And that shift—from focusing on agreement to practicing appreciation—shaped the way I engaged with difference throughout my time abroad. 

Florence gave me a setting where reflection was part of daily life. The more I learned about the Renaissance, the more I noticed how deeply religion influenced not just art, but the rhythm of the city itself. Almost every museum, chapel, and piazza had some connection to Catholic imagery or stories. It wasn’t something I had gone out of my way to study, but it became impossible to ignore—and honestly, fascinating. I would find myself staring at frescoes or sculptures for long stretches of time, not because I suddenly believed in what they represented, but because I started to better understand the culture they came from.

That became one of the biggest themes of my time abroad: the ability to separate ideas from people, and appreciation from agreement. I didn’t have to believe in a religious narrative to respect the way it shaped someone else’s worldview. And I didn’t have to challenge everything I disagreed with in order to learn from it. That kind of engagement takes more effort than just dismissing something unfamiliar—but it’s also more rewarding. This experience taught me to pause before making assumptions—about people, traditions, or even places. I began to notice how often we jump to conclusions based on a single viewpoint or behavior. But being immersed in another country, surrounded by customs and values different from my own, reminded me how complex people are. Faith, especially, can’t be understood in snapshots. It’s built over time, often layered into daily habits, family memories, and cultural expression. Whether I was watching locals light candles in a church or just seeing the way religious holidays shaped public life, I came away with a deeper appreciation for how belief quietly informs identity.

Even when I didn’t connect with something personally, I could still admire the sincerity behind it. That became especially clear when I visited the Vatican. Seeing the scale, the history, and the reverence people showed gave me chills—not in a spiritual sense, but in a human one. Standing so close to what’s believed to be Saint Peter’s tomb reminded me of how old and resilient traditions can be. It made me think of my own faith—Hinduism—and the significance of practices that have been passed down for thousands of years. In an unexpected way, being surrounded by Catholicism helped me feel more grounded in my own background. What I carry forward from this time isn’t just knowledge about Italy or Catholicism—it’s a shift in how I engage with difference. I’m more comfortable now holding space for things I don’t fully understand, and more patient with unfamiliar perspectives. I’m also more careful not to group people too quickly with the ideas they express. That line between disagreement and disconnect used to feel thinner to me than it does now. Today, I feel more capable of saying, “I wouldn’t choose that path, but I see why someone else might.”

This doesn’t mean I’ve changed my core beliefs. If anything, I’ve returned more confident in them. But I’ve also returned more open—more willing to sit with nuance, more willing to learn by observing rather than reacting. That feels like one of the most valuable lessons I’ve taken from this experience, and one I hope to carry with me in both international and domestic settings: the ability to appreciate without needing to agree, and to connect across differences without compromising who I am.