Buongiorno Naples! Caffè Sospeso, That's a Wonderful Custom
Wednesday, 19 Mar 2025, 14:31
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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday, 20 Mar 2025, 07:02
Perhaps the best way to thank a stranger’s kindness
is to become a stranger’s kindness in return.
Some years ago, I was in Rome, wandering the morning streets
and absorbing the city’s timeless beauty. At some point, I stepped into a small
café for an espresso—just a brief pause in my day. It was a simple, familiar
ritual: order, sip, savor, then pay. But as I reached for my wallet, the
barista smiled and shook his head.
“The gentleman before you has already paid,” he said.
I looked toward the door, but the stranger was gone,
disappearing into the crowd without waiting for thanks. It was a small
gesture—just a cup of coffee—but it carried a weight beyond its cost. The man
had left behind more than a paid bill; he had left behind an echo of kindness,
a reminder that goodness often moves unseen, like a quiet current beneath the
surface of daily life.
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Word
I learned of caffè sospeso recently, the Neapolitan tradition
where someone pays for an extra coffee, leaving it for a stranger in need. It
is an act of giving that does not seek acknowledgment or reward, only the
simple hope that it might brighten another’s day. My benefactor in Rome had
done the same—not because he had to, not because he expected anything in
return, but because he could.
In a world often preoccupied with transactions and
reciprocation, such gestures stand out. They remind us that kindness is not a
business exchange but a gift, freely given. Perhaps that is why acts of quiet
generosity stay with us long after they happen. They ask nothing of us but
linger in memory, shaping the way we see the world.
I never thanked the man who bought my coffee. I never
learned his name or had the chance to return the favour. But maybe that is the
point. True kindness does not demand to be noticed—it simply exists, rippling
outward in ways we may never see.
Perhaps the best way to thank a stranger’s kindness is to
become a stranger’s kindness in return.
What about you, have you had similar experiences of
kindness? Tell us in the comments.
“Be careful not to perform your righteous acts before
men to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in
heaven.
So when you give to the needy, do not sound a trumpet
before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be
honored by men. Truly I tell you, they already have their full reward. But
when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand
is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father, who sees what
is done in secret, will reward you.
Buongiorno Naples! Caffè Sospeso, That's a Wonderful Custom
Perhaps the best way to thank a stranger’s kindness
is to become a stranger’s kindness in return.
Some years ago, I was in Rome, wandering the morning streets and absorbing the city’s timeless beauty. At some point, I stepped into a small café for an espresso—just a brief pause in my day. It was a simple, familiar ritual: order, sip, savor, then pay. But as I reached for my wallet, the barista smiled and shook his head.
“The gentleman before you has already paid,” he said.
I looked toward the door, but the stranger was gone, disappearing into the crowd without waiting for thanks. It was a small gesture—just a cup of coffee—but it carried a weight beyond its cost. The man had left behind more than a paid bill; he had left behind an echo of kindness, a reminder that goodness often moves unseen, like a quiet current beneath the surface of daily life.
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Word
I learned of caffè sospeso recently, the Neapolitan tradition where someone pays for an extra coffee, leaving it for a stranger in need. It is an act of giving that does not seek acknowledgment or reward, only the simple hope that it might brighten another’s day. My benefactor in Rome had done the same—not because he had to, not because he expected anything in return, but because he could.
In a world often preoccupied with transactions and reciprocation, such gestures stand out. They remind us that kindness is not a business exchange but a gift, freely given. Perhaps that is why acts of quiet generosity stay with us long after they happen. They ask nothing of us but linger in memory, shaping the way we see the world.
I never thanked the man who bought my coffee. I never learned his name or had the chance to return the favour. But maybe that is the point. True kindness does not demand to be noticed—it simply exists, rippling outward in ways we may never see.
Perhaps the best way to thank a stranger’s kindness is to become a stranger’s kindness in return.
What about you, have you had similar experiences of kindness? Tell us in the comments.
“Be careful not to perform your righteous acts before men to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
So when you give to the needy, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. Truly I tell you, they already have their full reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Matthew 6: 1-4 (BSB).