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Let it Be… and a little more light, please. (2026 Word of the Year)

In the tradition of ancient monastics, each year I ask for a word to ponder, a word that I will prayerfully focus my attention on for the new year.  It may be something I hope for or an attribute I want to cultivate in my life, but always for the surprise of what it might teach me, lessons I did not know needed to be learned.

The new word does not replace the old one, but enfolds, envelops, and encompasses it, another revolution on the spiral of my spiritual journey. As I reflect on the last several Words of the Year, this is still my truth: I want to hold all of life fully (2024)—the bittersweet moments and the sweet surprises, with “eyes open to wonder (2023), holy surprises, and synchronicity.” I want to see the light (2025) in the darkness. I want to be the light in the darkness.

Reflecting on a very challenging year and the tragedies, trauma, and “presidential” tirades of the first few weeks of 2026, it is clear—we need a little more light, please. And so, I hold light, my 2025 word of the year, in my heart as comfort and guide in tumultuous times, as a reminder to shine, safeguard, and trust the Divine light, and to add the mantra “Let it Be”.

On a recent SoulFully You retreat I guided, we explored how the human experience is a dance between dark and light, and that there is always a little glimpse of the other. Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “Suffering comes from our reluctance to learn to walk in the dark… Blessing the day means accepting my full quota of light and of dark, even what I cannot see what I am blessing.”

How do we carry both darkness and light in our daily lives?

Fr. Thomas Keating, a Trappist monk, founding member of Contemplative Outreach, and an integral figure in the Christian contemplative prayer movement, suggests using the Welcoming Prayer, which has deep roots in the monasticism of the desert fathers and mothers.

Together, we practiced a Welcoming Prayer guided by David Benner, founder of Cascadia Living Wisdom. Step 1 in the process is Focus; Step 2 is Welcome; Step 3 is Let it Be—“Remember Jesus’ words in the garden of Gethsemane, ‘Not my will but thine be done’…or think of Mary, the mother of Jesus, as she responded to the annunciation. Let it be. This response is at the heart of Paul McCartney’s song called Let it Be.”

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

And when the brokenhearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see; there will be an answer, let it be

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me
Shinin’ until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

Songwriters: Paul McCartney / John Lennon Let It Be lyrics © Sony/atv Tunes Llc

And so let it be.

When the spiral of negative thinking begins, let it be. “I need sanctuary from the constant rerun of conversations and/or situations that have led to hurt feelings and a sense of rejection. I need sanctuary from the relentless inner conversations that distract me from living fully and hold me a prisoner in the role of victim… Over and again, I hear that I must be silent, to listen to the breath of God within me, to still the thoughts. And then, carry on (2020).”

When I feel an urgency to get beyond the discomfort of making a decision, let it be. “I shall allow myself the cushion (2018) of time needed to make any decision. There is no need to rush, to over-commit… I shall gently bump into the ever-so-soft cushion I have gifted myself as a reminder to listen to the ear of the heart.“

Continue reading “Let it Be… and a little more light, please. (2026 Word of the Year)” →
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Flowers and Fear, Side by Side

January 2026 Oblate Reflections, Christ the King Priory, Schuyler, Nebraska

Theme: Balance and Moderation; Lectio Divina: Matthew 6: 25-34

Sources: Wisdom Distilled from the Daily, Joan Chittister, Chapter 6 “Monastic Mindfulness: A Blend of Harmony, Wholeness, Balance; In place of confusing life patterns, the security of a healthy balance – The Holy Rule of St. Benedict Podcast w/ Fr. Mauritius Wilde, OSB

Our Lectio Divina reading mentions ‘worry’ six times. Our default emotion can be to worry in the face of an uncertain future, when we fear the worst or feel there may not be enough time, money, food, or stuff. Some of us worry more than others. We are constantly fed cultural and marketing messages that tell us we will be more comfortable if we buy this, more admired if we buy that, safer if we own this, and happier with that. When do we have enough? How do we find a balance? What is the secret to less worry?

So often, we worry about what we have no control over, and our stewing does not change the outcome. Only our peace of mind and heart are disturbed. Joan Chittister writes, “We’re a people who lack awareness. We’re a world that has lost a sense of balance…To live a life of Benedictine awareness means we must come to see what we cannot. To the monastic mind, everything speaks of God. What I have and what I do not have. What I want and what I do not want….Life takes a sense of significance and a happy admission of insignificance.”

We matter. Our wants and our needs matter, yet we are not the center of the universe. We are significant and insignificant simultaneously. Humbly, we must admit that we are not in control of everything, everyone, or every outcome. Things happen, but God accompanies. Our worry does not help. Our controlling tendencies do not get us what we want. Our worry, in fact, is an impediment to living our present moment most fully.

In Matthew 6, it is written, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

These words can be comforting and a reminder that we can only do so much. We can put into action only what we can and let be what we cannot change. Recognizing and naming our emotions of worry and fear can be helpful. “Awareness of the sacred in life is what holds our world together and the lack of awareness and sacred care is what is tearing it apart,” writes Chittister.

Our attention is the first step. When we notice our attachment to physical things, habits, routines, our desire to fix, help, or solve, God is with us as we face our life in truth. Life gives us grief and uncertainty, over and over again. We must accept that this is part of the whole picture of our lives.

Chittister writes about a stained-glass window in the chapel of her monastery — each window carries a different concept, meaning, and design, yet they are not in conflict with one another. It is the light that gives each segment its integrity, blending them together as one. “What is it that makes for unity among the many opposing energies we meet in life that could instead become just so many instances of noisy clash and conflict? What is it that brings life together and nature and people together and the world together and nature together?”

Continue reading “Flowers and Fear, Side by Side” →
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When The Moon is Full

“When we ‘name’ we connect… Naming allows for relationship. When we name anyone or anything, there’s the possibility of coming closer.” –Fragments of Your Ancient Name, Joyce Rupp

For millennia, people have looked to the moon to mark time, to guide their planting, harvesting, hunting, and gathering. Naming the full moon was both practical and sacred. The moon names were a way to notice, remember, and honor the patterns of the living world, drawing from the seasons and ordinary life events. It was also a way to remember that time itself is sacred, fleeting, passing with each full moon. For Native Americans, time was expressed by how many moons had passed.

“Many Native American peoples, and later the colonists who lived beside these winter lands, noticed how the wolves’ voices grew strongest when the year was at its emptiest. Food was scarce, snow lay deep, and the nights stretched wide and unbroken. And so this moon—January’s full moon—came to be known as the Wolf Moon, a name born from the simple truth of those winter evenings: wolves calling out to one another through the dark.” –Friends of the Forest

Recently, I led a Full Moon Soulfully You retreat with kindred spirits. We celebrated the diversity of names for the moon and read the endearing children’s book “When the Moon Is Full” by Penny Pollack.

Each month holds a rhythm of expansion and contraction—of growth, fullness, release, and renewal. Our spiritual journey and the seasons of our life align with the deep rhythms of the universe. Naming our longings and fears, the parts of ourselves that we might see as fragile or vulnerable, is holy work and prayer. Every aspect of our life has meaning, especially the challenging ones, the aspects of ourselves we hide out of fear that we’ll be misunderstood or judged. To live fully, wholly, holy, whole is to gather the fragments, the bones of who we are, and bless them. On retreat, we use the prayerful, creative SoulCollage practice to name these parts.

“Full moons come, full moons go, softening nights with their silver glow. They pass in silence, all untamed, but as they travel, they are named.” -When the Moon is Full, Penny Pollock

As you gaze at the full moon tonight (or any month), consider the following journaling or card-making prompts. Listen to the Full Moon chant, or like a wolf, howl at the moon!

  • What is your longing? What do you fear?
  • How can you hold your longings and fears together?
  • What part of yourself would you like to name?
  • Is there a name or archetype you want to embrace?
  • What name for the Divine resonates with you?
  • Are you in a season of darkness? Does it need to be named?

May the Full Moon remind you of your blessings, tonight and for many moons to come!

There are never enough names and images for what we love. -Dorothee Soelle

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

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Light (and Darkness): 2025 Word of the Year in Review

It is good to remember that light and darkness cannot be separated. There is always a little glimpse of the other.

When life runs like a well-oiled machine, and things are going our way, confidence is high, and joy is palpable. It is then that we begin to feel invincible—that this good fortune is what we deserve. When the inevitable challenges, losses, or setbacks come, we feel the wind knocked out of our sails.

On the other hand, to succumb to darkness, despair, or hopelessness is to snuff out the candle of hope that we must cling to, or what is this all for?  Being Benedictine means holding both/and—seeking the light while also honoring and learning from the darkness.

“When we come to understand that everything in our world, including its darker aspects, derives from God, we begin to realize that much of what we perceive as “bad” is, from the divine perspective, simply another piece of the sacred whole…that which appears as darkness to us may very well be the beacon to our redemption.” -Niles Elliot Goldstein, God at the Edge

My guiding star, my 2025 Word of the Year, LIGHT, has helped me embrace this yin/yang reality in my life and the world.

“Life is a balance between what we can control and what we can’t. You must learn to live comfortably between effort and surrender.” -Danielle Orner  Steph Edwards @toyoufromsteph

It is no secret that 2025 has been a tough year. We knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it has felt more…well, just more than we could have imagined. (See truth-tellers like Heather Cox Richardson, Robert Reich, Rebecca Solnit, Parker Palmer, and Pope Leo who shine their light into the darkness of a threatened democracy, giving hope to those marginalized and suffering around the world. I have shared my truth on these matters here: Be The Light: A 4th of July Message.)

Personally, we started 2025 with unexpected news, challenges, and worries about family and friends. We lost Joe’s brother, Steve, in a tragic accident, but were comforted that two successful transplant surgeries resulted from his donated organs.

More here–Remembering Steven Gehr: OK. I know. Good. OK.

I missed my teacher colleagues in my first full year of retirement, but had more time for reading and writing, coffee and lunch dates, book discussions, and binge-watching Outlander. I attended the Okoboji Writers Retreat, led two SoulFully You retreats, and collaborated on another.

Continue reading “Light (and Darkness): 2025 Word of the Year in Review” →
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O Antiphons: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!

The traditional Advent hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” which many are familiar with, is a paraphrase of the lesser-known O Antiphons written by Benedictine monks in the Middle Ages. One of the oldest liturgical rituals in the Church, the O Antiphons have been sung since at least the 8th century. These short prayers, starting with O followed by a title given to the Messiah from Old Testament prophecies, are sung before the Magnificat during Evening Prayer from December 17–23, the last seven days before Christmas. Each antiphon describes God in terms of Old Testament traits and images.

Images and symbols that appear in dreams, art, literature, or scripture carry both personal and universal meaning. Serving as a bridge between the unconscious and the conscious, images can nourish our spirit. “Images open windows through which we can see realities formerly hidden from us. Images want to infuse themselves into us and to change us from the inside out, ” writes Anselm Grün.

Images are an essential part of rituals, prayer, self-reflection, and creativity. When practicing SoulCollage®, one of my favorite spiritual practices, images can guide us to a new level of awareness and reveal a deeper understanding of thought and feeling. Perhaps this is what attracts me to the tradition of praying the O Antiphons.


“Reflecting on the words and images prepares us to let Christ himself enter into us…We are all an image, an icon, of God. It is our task to become ever more like this unique image of God.”

Anselm Grün, A Time of Fulfillment: Spiritual Reflections for Advent and Christmas

The O Antiphons use images to help us envision the Christ we long for, and to draw us into a more profound connection to the God of history. “In the O-Antiphons the art of interpreting Old Testament text as images for the coming of Jesus Christ into the world becomes apparent.” (Anselm Grün) The repeated word “Come!” expresses our deepest longing for Christ. When we accept that we are not God, we yearn for fulfillment, for all that a Messiah can bring, not just in the hereafter but in the here and now. We long for wisdom, freedom, hope, peace, belonging, light, healing, salvation, dignity, protection, love, and accompaniment. Each of these longings is addressed in the O Antiphons.

For an extensive examination of our longings and the use of images in praying the O Antiphons, I highly recommend A Time of Fulfillment by Anselm Grün, a Benedictine monk from Münsterschwarzach Abbey, the motherhouse of the monastery of which I am an oblate.

Feel free to download and share any of the images in this reflection, or follow Being Benedictine on Facebook to share daily posts. Join the monks of St. John’s Abbey for each of the O Antiphons as Benedictine monks have done for 1300 years.

St. John’s Abbey sings O Antiphons: Holy Wisdom—

December 17th – O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
December 18th – O Adonai (O Lord)
Continue reading “O Antiphons: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!” →
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Gratitude or Grumbling: A Thanksgiving Choice

November 2025 Oblate Reflections

“Do not grumble or think ill of others.” (Rule of St. Benedict Ch. 4:39)

What is the key to practicing gratitude rather than grumbling? How can we live a grateful life in the midst of pain and suffering, our own, that of others, and that of the world around us? Is it possible to be thankful for challenging experiences?

We use the Rule of St. Benedict and Scripture to address these questions at our November oblate meeting. We opened our meeting with the Welcome Prayer written by Fr. Thomas Keating).

If we truly practice this prayer to welcome all of the above, we find that the benefit of grumbling is minimal. In fact, grumbling is self-sabotage. The benefit of welcoming everything is that through the moments of distress, unease, discomfort, or suffering, we learn that another way could be a blessing. What can be difficult about the Welcome Prayer is the “letting go” of our control—and oh my, how much we prefer when things go our way.

St. Benedict has a few things to say about grumbling, a form of letting go of our own gripes, opinions, and negativity for the greater good of the community and ultimately our own selves. He encourages his monks to cultivate humility, patience, and a joyful acceptance of their station in life. It requires a surrender of pride to be content even when it is challenging to be.

We read the following excerpts and practice Lectio Divina as a group, sharing the insights we gained.

Continue reading “Gratitude or Grumbling: A Thanksgiving Choice” →
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10 Reasons Benedictines Love Silence

I carefully consider everything that I write and share here, especially the more personal or contentious reflections. I rarely write and post on the same day. Not so with my speech. I find myself saying often enough, “Did I just say that out loud?” Words fly out of my mouth much faster than they flow from my pen or keyboard.

 Perhaps this is why I enjoy journaling and writing so much. It slows my mind down. In silence, I can be more deliberate, careful, and organized in what I share. A healthy respect for silence could save me some angst in times when my mouth works faster than my mind.

At our annual oblate retreat, with the theme “Building Community Through Our Oblate Promises,” the importance of silence was the topic of the opening session led by Fr. Thomas Leitner, the administrator of St. Benedict Center and a monk who lives at the monastery across the road. Throughout the weekend, we would learn about and practice silence.

Why is silence so fundamental to Benedictine spirituality?

Silence is the way to self-knowledge. A discipline of silence confronts us with ourselves. “Silence is a way for us to put up with ourselves the way we are. Not everything that comes to mind at times of silence is pleasant. Repressed needs and wishes may come up, repressed anger, and perhaps missed opportunities,” Fr. Thomas shared. Silence gives our wounds space to surface, allowing us time to wrestle with and soothe our pain in healthy ways. Silence allows us to see ourselves unfiltered without the influence of others.

In The Interior Castle, St. Teresa of Avila uses imagery of a castle for our soul, emphasizing “how necessary this room (of self-knowledge) is…we shall never completely know ourselves if we don’t strive to know God.” She writes that God dwells within us, and to know God, we must first know ourselves. Hard, but necessary, work to “know thyself,” as the ancient Greek maxim suggests.

Silence connects us to the Divine. Seventh-century bishop and theologian, St. Isaac of Syria, writes:

Try to enter into your treasure house
and you will see the treasure of heaven.
For both the one and the other are the same,
and the one and the same entrance reveals them both.
The ladder leading to the kingdom is within you,
that is, in your soul.

We enter this “treasure house,” our very soul, through the practice of prayer. Some of us may be conditioned to think of prayer as a transactional bubble-gum-machine approach to asking God for what we want. We put in a coin; God supplies the big gumball. Our prayers are “answered.” Yet this is not the kind of prayer that leads to self-knowledge or to a connection with God. Consider a poem by the 19th-century Danish theologian Søren Kierkegaard that points to a different kind of prayer.

As my prayer
became more and more devout and interior,
there was less and less I had to say.
Finally I became completely still.

I became—
this is perhaps an even greater contrast to talking—
I became a listener.

First I thought praying is talking.
I learned, however, that praying is not only silence,
but listening.

That’s the way it is:
Praying does not mean hearing oneself speak,
praying means becoming still and being still
and waiting until I hear God.

-Søren Kierkegaard

Silence builds confidence and leads to self-respect.

“As my prayer became more and more devout and interior,” I come to know myself with greater depth. This knowing builds my confidence: I have been created just as I am, in the image of God. I forgive myself for weaknesses and celebrate my gifts. I seek less approval from others. I have “less and less” to say to justify, convince, or plead my case of worthiness to myself or others.

Teacher, writer, and friend, Parker Palmer, writes, “One of our most debilitating illusions (is) that the answer to our problems is always ‘out there’ somewhere, never ‘in here.’ It’s an illusion that’s constantly reinforced by educational and religious institutions that make us dependent on “experts” and “authorities.” We need not look for knowledge in others; we can trust our own interiority, the Divine Expert Within. I can grow in self-respect, knowing God is within me, intimately speaking to me when I am silent long enough.

Continue reading “10 Reasons Benedictines Love Silence” →
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Everyone Deserves To Be Heard

Everyone deserves to be heard.

I realized this most profoundly when I was the one who felt unheard. Perhaps you, too, have had a moment like this when you felt no one was listening—a meaningful, traumatic, challenging, or gratifying experience that needed to be shared fell on deaf ears.

I have written about the Benedictine promises of obedience and the importance of listening to God and others as part of one’s spiritual growth. “Listening requires us to pause, to have silence, and to be open to seeing in a new way. Listening can lead to a shift in perspective, a flash of insight, a new understanding. When you listen closely to another, it is an expression of love,” I shared in a recent reflection.

It is just as crucial to examine the impact it has on others when we are forgetful about listening—understandably, we get busy, or miss clues that others need our ear. Indeed, there are times when others may not realize how important it is (these slights may be easily forgiven), but there may be other times when you or another is summarily dismissed. The message is loud and clear—either you or what you have to say is not valued. It feels hurtful, as if you don’t matter, as if you are insignificant. Being intentionally rejected for your thoughts, ideas, feelings, and experiences leaves a wound, a hole in one’s heart, a sense of being rejected or abandoned.

For me, the experience of not being heard came during a traumatic time for women who had been sexually harassed, abused, or assaulted. I felt my trauma, but also the suffering of so many beyond me. It was a profound compassion, sharing the wound. It came to me then, weeping, that this is what it might feel like for those who have spent their entire lives not feeling listened to, of all those who have been unheard throughout our history, from the enslaved, defeated, oppressed, and marginalized—those who have no one to listen to or validate their pain. They had a story in their heart that needed to be heard, then and now.

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears… Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” –Donald McNeill, Douglas Morrison, and Henri Nouwen (quoted in Boundless Compassion by Joyce Rupp)

My heart felt broken—not just for me, but for the lack of compassion I may have shown others. Simultaneously wounded and regretful, a part of me died while something else was taking root—a desire to listen to those who feel unheard, to offer acceptance where there might not be, to advocate for those marginalized.  I felt pierced entirely with compassion. Tears flow often now for the suffering that, perhaps, I had not noticed before, the pain that I may have caused others, and the pain that continues to go unnoticed or even flatly denied.

I created a SoulCollage® card shortly after this eye-opening, traumatic experience. Consider the image and the following questions.

“The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry”. -Psalm 34:15

Questions for reflection:

Do you have a story you would like to share with someone? Have you been able to share it with another or write about it? If so, how did it make you feel to be heard? Does it inspire you to listen to the pain and suffering of the world?

Can there be some healing for your wound by expressing it to God if there is no one to share it with? Are you available for others to share their story with you? What is the consequence for a loved one if their story isn’t shared? Is there a person or marginalized group of people that you may listen to more closely than you have?

May our prayers be heard for all those suffering, and for those who have shared their stories but not been heard. May we listen with “the ear of our hearts,” as Benedict instructs. May we be moved to tears. Amen.


© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger


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To Love and Be Loved: The Monk and The Marriage

But now faith, hope, and love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love. –1 Corinthians 13:13

This scripture verse is one of the most frequently read at wedding ceremonies, but it is meant for more than those getting married. We are created to love and be loved—all of us, no matter who we are or our chosen paths in life, whether monk or married.

Our deepest longing is to be loved. Love is the thread that runs through all the world’s religions. In Christianity, the Great Commandment is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind” and to “love your neighbor as yourself.” 

Several years ago, during spiritual direction with Benedictine monk, Fr. Mauritius Wilde, we discussed, despite our different vocations, how much we have in common. We each have a holy longing—to love God, to have a healthy love for ourselves, and to give and receive love. Practically speaking, we are the same age, we are both teachers and retreat leaders, have one brother, have the same middle name (Marie—seriously, what are the odds on that?), we share similar Enneagram personality traits, and each of us professed our marriage or monastic vows 40 years ago, a day apart. I was married on August 17, 1985, and Fr. Mauritius entered the monastery as a novice on August 18, 1985.

After one of many conversations where one of us would say, “That is exactly how it is for me!” or “Me, too!”, I half-seriously, half-jokingly suggested that we write a book about how, setting the whole monk vs. being married thing aside, we experience our love of God and others in many of the same ways. Nearly forgotten, this idea resurfaced a year or so ago, and we decided that leading a retreat together would be a good beginning. Our theme would be love, specifically how the Rule of St. Benedict can help us grow in love and to discover our “inner monk.”

“The monk, a universal archetype of the search for the divine, represents everything in you that leans toward the sacred, all that reaches for what is eternal. The monk represents everything within you that is drawn to seek with unwavering love; to wait for the Holy One with reverential awe; to praise, bow, and adore.” -Christine Valters Paintner

The Rule of St. Benedict shows us the path of love, of nurturing the monk within while living in community. During our retreat, held in July 2025, we shared how the monk’s promises—stability, obedience, and conversion of life—are the foundation for learning and growing in the “school for God’s service.” (RB Prologue 45) For the monk, this place of learning is the monastery. For me, it begins in my family as wife and mother. But each of us is more than our role as a monk or a married person. Each can be transformed by practicing love in our friendships, workplaces, community, and environment.

Continue reading “To Love and Be Loved: The Monk and The Marriage” →
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