Vision looks upward and becomes faith.

Host: The cathedral was empty, save for the faint echo of footsteps and the smell of melted wax and rain-soaked stone. Stained glass windows loomed above — tall, patient sentinels of color and time — casting fragments of light across the pews, the floor, the faces of saints who had been watching humanity for centuries.

The storm outside had slowed, and a beam of sunlight pierced through one of the high windows, catching the dust in the air — a slow, golden snowfall suspended in quiet.

At the center aisle stood Jack, hands in his coat pockets, eyes lifted toward the vaulted ceiling as if he were listening for something. Jeeny sat on one of the pews, her umbrella dripping beside her, her gaze steady and contemplative.

After a long silence, she spoke — softly, like someone breaking a spell.

Jeeny: reading from a small book she carried in her lap
“Stephen Samuel Wise once said, ‘Vision looks upward and becomes faith.’”

Jack: half-smiling, voice low and thoughtful
“Upward. Always upward. Guess that’s humanity in one line — never satisfied with what’s in front of us.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly, glancing toward the stained glass
“Maybe that’s not dissatisfaction. Maybe that’s devotion.”

Host: The light shifted through the glass, turning the air blue, then red, then gold — as if even the sun couldn’t decide what it believed in. Outside, the rain began again, soft and rhythmic, a hymn sung by the world itself.

Jack: walking slowly down the aisle
“You know, I used to think vision was about ambition — dreaming bigger, climbing higher. But Wise… he’s talking about something different. Something quieter. Faith isn’t just seeing farther. It’s seeing differently.”

Jeeny: nodding, her voice gentle but sure
“Exactly. Vision is reason’s compass. Faith is what happens when you stop needing the map.”

Jack: turning back toward her, curious
“So faith is blindness?”

Jeeny: shaking her head
“No. It’s sight without evidence. The upward gaze — not because you expect to find something, but because you believe it’s worth looking anyway.”

Host: The candles along the altar flickered, and the wind moaned faintly through the cracks in the old wood. The cathedral felt alive — breathing, watching, whispering through the centuries that lived in its stones.

Jack: after a pause, softly
“Maybe that’s the problem today. Everyone wants proof. No one wants faith. We believe in data, not divinity. Facts are our gods now.”

Jeeny: smiling, her tone tender but edged with insight
“And yet, even science begins with faith. The faith that there’s order in chaos, that truth can be found if you look long enough. Every discovery starts with belief — just belief in something different.”

Jack: half-laughing
“So we’re all believers, then. Just with better vocabulary.”

Jeeny: grinning softly
“Exactly. Vision becomes faith when it stops being about achievement and starts being about awe.”

Host: A bell tolled in the distance, its sound deep, resonant, echoing through the hollow space like a heartbeat remembering eternity.

Jack: sitting beside her now, eyes lifted toward the high ceiling again
“You ever notice how cathedrals are designed to make you feel small? It’s like the architecture itself demands humility.”

Jeeny: nodding slowly
“Because humility is the doorway to vision. You can’t look upward if you think you’re already on top of the world.”

Jack: quietly
“And yet we keep building higher — skyscrapers, satellites, the whole digital empire. We call it progress, but maybe it’s just our way of trying to touch faith again.”

Jeeny: softly, her voice almost a whisper
“Maybe progress is our secular prayer — the act of reaching beyond ourselves, still searching for light.”

Host: The sun broke through the clouds again, illuminating the altar, the cross, the dust motes — everything touched with sudden gold. Jeeny’s face glowed in the light, calm and radiant; Jack’s eyes reflected it, uncertain yet moved.

Jack: after a long silence
“You know, I envy that kind of faith. Not religion, necessarily. Just… that ability to trust in what you can’t prove.”

Jeeny: softly
“You have it too. Every time you keep going when you don’t know how it’ll end — that’s faith. Every time you stand in the dark and still look upward — that’s vision.”

Jack: smiling faintly, his voice quieter now
“So vision is the beginning, faith is the continuation.”

Jeeny: nodding, her eyes glistening faintly
“And love is the completion.”

Host: The light dimmed once more, but now it didn’t feel like loss — more like rest. The world outside hummed faintly, cars passing, raindrops falling, life moving on. Inside, time felt suspended, as if the moment itself had become a form of prayer.

Jack: softly, looking up one last time
“You think Wise meant it literally — that vision must look upward?”

Jeeny: smiling
“No. He meant it must look beyond. Beyond the seen, beyond the self, beyond certainty.”

Jack: quietly, almost to himself
“Beyond doubt.”

Jeeny: softly
“Until doubt becomes devotion.”

Host: The rain eased, and a single ray of sunlight pierced through again — this time landing squarely on the open floor before them. It glowed there, steady and warm, like an invitation from something unseen but deeply felt.

And in that stillness, Stephen Samuel Wise’s words seemed to breathe through the air:

That vision begins in the eyes, but faith begins in the heart.
That to look upward is not to escape the world, but to believe it can still be redeemed.
And that every dream worth having must, at some point, become prayer.

Jeeny: rising, gathering her things, her tone soft but luminous
“Maybe faith isn’t about seeing the divine. Maybe it’s about choosing to look for it anyway.”

Jack: standing beside her, watching the light fade
“And maybe that’s what it means to look upward — not with the eyes, but with the soul.”

Host: The doors opened, and the afternoon light flooded in. The two stepped out into the wet streets, the sky clearing above them — a vast canvas of cloud and gold.

And as they walked beneath it, silent but smiling,
the city around them no longer seemed heavy or tired.
It seemed — just for a moment —
to be looking upward too.