Lectio Divina Oblate Meeting Reflections

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?”

January 11, 2026 2

Naming the Darkness Within: An Advent Reflection

December 2025 Oblate Reflections

Presentation Leader: Fr. Jim Secora – Advent “He is Coming”

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” (Isaiah 9:2)

We seek the light. In total darkness, our eyes can see a single point of light up to 5 miles away. This is the lesson of Advent, shared by Fr. Jim Secora, a retired priest and Benedictine oblate. We must accept the darkness, become comfortable with it, and not run from it. We must confront the darkness in the world and from within.

We live in a generation of darkness, as many generations before us have. There is much suffering—with refugees, immigrants, those lacking good health care, those who cannot afford necessities, who are sick, or have personal suffering. Advent calls us to confront the darkness. We cannot appreciate the light around us until we do.

Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, is a reminder of the joy we have and of the joy to come. The light of Christ is here and is coming—both are true. Miracles happen every day when we pay attention.

The fear of uncertainty, the unknown, leads to personal darkness. Even Jesus felt it. And he faced it head-on. We must practice trusting, letting go, and sitting in discomfort. If we don’t have an opportunity to see the need for light in our lives, why do we need Christmas? Fr. Jim suggests.

In small groups, we shared our personal experiences in response to the following questions—

1. Name the experiences of darkness that you find in the world, the church, the lives of people, and if only if you are comfortable, any area of darkness that you have or are experiencing. Where or when have you experienced light piercing the darkness?

2. The people of Israel sought out John because he offered them a vision of salvation. Where in the life of the world do you see the need for a savior? Where in my life, do I need to experience a rebirth of Jesus and his gift of salvation?

3. What is the star you are following now? And where is that star in its present radiance in your life leading you?

Much of our personal darkness comes from a feeling of helplessness. We want our discomfort relieved, our problems fixed. We live in a cloud of doubt and uncertainty, where we can’t “fix it” and no one else can “fix it” for us either. We forget that often the fear of the unknown may be worse than the reality that may be to come. But this presents the question: What do we trust in?

During my greatest fear, waiting for a life-changing health diagnosis, I experienced this desperation. And the only answer, the only peace is to trust in the breath of the Divine. Taking one deep breath at a time, I was more aware of the connection to the greater Source of peace. The breath prayer is the start of a surrendering practice, a continual turning it over to God, a reminder that we cannot assume to know how things will turn out or that we know what is best. This spiritual practice is impossible without humility.

“We have made ourselves the love of our lives and found little to adore at the altar of our egos. We have made ourselves our own gods and have forgotten God in the process…Joy, the deep-down awareness of what it means to live well, to live productively, to live righteously, is made out of self-giving, simplicity, and other-centeredness…Joy is not about what happens to us, the manger indicates. It is the meaning we give to what we do that determines the nature, the quality of the lives we live.”

-Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year

It takes humility to surrender our “me” to “we.” We need a redemption of me. The stars we can follow are trust, acceptance, joy, and peace. Practicing gratitude for the present moment, finding peace, joy, and strength in whatever situation we are in, not wishing that we were somewhere else. Our star is directly above our present moment.

More reflections on Advent.

The Light Shines in the Darkness

Holy Darkness: An Advent Meditation

You Are A Sanctuary for the Divine ~ Sprigs of Rosemary Online Advent Retreat

An Advent Call of Humility: Mary and Zechariah

Flood the World with Love: An Antidote to Darkness

December 14, 2025 3

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.

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November 10, 2025 2

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.

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October 14, 2025 0

His Heart Was Moved

September 2025 Oblate Reflections

“In a delightful letter on the contemplative life called The Ladder of Monks, Guigo II (a 12th-century Carthusian monk) divides the experience of Lectio into four phases or degrees: reading, meditation, prayer, contemplation. Reading, he says, puts food whole into the mouth. Meditation chews it, digs for treasure. Prayer extracts the flavor and helps us to get to know the treasure. Contemplation embraces and welcomes the thirsty soul.” (A Tree Full of Angels: Seeing the Holy in the Ordinary, Macrina Weiderkehr)

Lectio Divina: Matthew 9:1-13; 35-36

He entered a boat, made the crossing, and came into his own town. And there people brought to him a paralytic lying on a stretcher. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven.” At that, some of the scribes said to themselves, “This man is blaspheming.” Jesus knew what they were thinking, and said, “Why do you harbor evil thoughts? Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic, “Rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home.” He rose and went home. When the crowds saw this they were struck with awe and glorified God who had given such authority to human beings.

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. While he was at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners came and sat with Jesus and his disciples. The Pharisees saw this and said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”

He heard this and said, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn the meaning of the words, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” Jesus went around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and curing every disease and illness. At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.

In our oblate group, we read, reflect, respond, and rest in sacred scripture. There is a synergy that results from sharing a word or phrase that resonates within, as well as the wisdom or insight each has received. I leave with a greater understanding of other perspectives and of how I am called to follow Christ.

Some reflections from our reading:

Courage, child, your sins are forgiven…Rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home. Jesus’ first instruction is to have courage and to know that sins are forgiven. Many aspects in our life require our courage—difficult conversations, facing our own limitations, expressing love, making or adapting to changes, dealing with physical or emotional suffering, feeling despair, and understanding our next steps in each season of life, to name a few. Life requires courage. Some questions we might consider in taking Jesus’ advice: What is our stretcher or our crutch? Where might we be trapped or paralyzed? We are not to harbor evil thoughts about others or ourselves, knowing that nothing can separate anyone from the love of God. Jesus asks us to rise—right where we are, no matter who we are, and go home. Our home is much more than a brick-and-mortar dwelling. Home is a place of peace, where we can be seen and heard, loved and believed, held and yet free. Home accepts all the parts of our self, our truest self.

Home is where you belong. It is your shelter and place of rest, the place where you can be yourself. –John O’ Donohue, Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong

They were struck with awe and glorified God who had given such authority to human beings. We are to become like Christ. We can rise up, go home, follow, listen, have our hearts moved, give mercy, have courage, doubt, choose, forgive and be forgiven, be filled with awe, mix and mingle with the “tax collectors and sinners” of our day (the poor, oppressed, and marginalized), and be compassionate. In a very short story, Jesus asks much and gives much. He is an example of who we can be to others. The crowds were struck with awe by what Jesus did. We, too, can stand in awe of the kindness of others, a spectacular sunrise, or a day of feeling healthy. In each day, there are countless ways to choose awe and gratitude, glorifying God in all.

I did not come to call the righteous but sinners. Accepting both the righteous and the sinner within ourselves is a sort of homecoming. Accepting with humility that we are not one or the other—saint or sinner—is the way to integration and accepting others. Jesus tells the crowd that he desires mercy. We can be merciful, too, slow to judge ourselves and others.

His heart was moved. This line resonated with me the most. Jesus, in his humanity, felt pity for the “troubled and abandoned.” Beyond our bodies, Jesus sees our inner wounds, our fears and anxieties, our feelings. He sees beyond the physical to our spiritual and emotional needs. This, too, we must ask—who might the troubled and abandoned be today? We can only know who they are by deep listening, extending hospitality, and having compassion as Jesus did. And then we must ask, how are we responding to them? With judgment or with a moved heart?

Lower Your Nets: Do Not Be Afraid

February 2025 Oblate Reflections

Lectio Divina: Luke 5: 1-11

Each of us in our Oblate community comes to a Lectio Divina discussion from our personal experience of the Divine. The beauty of Lectio is that the reading, insights, and discussion fall differently on each of our hearts. When we practice Lectio Divina, we learn from each other by sharing a word or phrase that resonates. We see a deeper meaning to the reading with each contribution as we “listen with the ear of the heart.” (RB Prologue) What resonated with our group:

“The crowd was pressing in…put out a short distance from the shore.” Sometimes what we bear seems so much. Perhaps we could break our feelings, responsibilities, or worries into smaller pieces. Jesus only asks us to go a short distance–taking on only what we need to while trusting that when we go into deeper waters, God will be with us. Even Jesus sat down for a bit to continue his teaching. We learn from his example: our work sometimes requires distance and healthy boundaries from others. We must listen and discern.

“We have worked hard all night.” In times of weariness, feeling overworked, defeated, or unsuccessful, we must carefully listen for the hopeful words of Jesus. The first word in the Rule of St. Benedict is “Listen”—he knew that we cannot go out into deep waters alone. We find encouragement in pausing, resting, and receiving help from others.

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February 10, 2025 2

The Good Zeal of Monks

December 2024 Oblate Reflections

Lectio Divina—Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 72, The Good Zeal of Monks

In the 1500-year-old Rule of St. Benedict, monks who live in a monastic community are presented with a choice to guide their relationships—to embrace good zeal which monks should foster with fervent love rather than the zeal of bitterness. This choice is a call to holiness and contributes to an atmosphere of separation or togetherness in the community.

Benedict is clear—if monks choose to respond to their brothers with bitterness, they cultivate an environment of separateness. They become distant from God and the community. But if monks choose to foster enthusiasm for loving their brother, Benedict writes that it will “bring us all together to everlasting life.”

Love is the antidote to separation and bitterness. Benedict encourages enthusiasm and eagerness when expressing our fervent love to God, one’s abbot (or leader), and one’s brothers. He also provides an action plan to demonstrate love.

Chapter 72 begins and ends in love—what is hoped for (” a good zeal which separates from evil and leads to God and everlasting life) and what is the promised outcome ( to “bring us all together in everlasting life.”) The specific instructions to demonstrate “fervent love” are to show respect to others; be patient with other’s weaknesses; practice active listening; and to consider the best interest of others, not just our own.

God’s work and desire is to “bring us all together” through our acts of love. We must consciously choose between holding onto bitterness, which separates us from God and from others. We must be committed to this goal to keep a community, family, organization, or friendship from growing apart through conflict, misunderstandings, and the bitterness that might result. This can be hard, there is no denying it.

We demonstrate our preference for “nothing whatever but Christ” when we see and treat others as Christ. Christ dwells within us, defining who we are. Christ, then, is active in creating togetherness in the community.

In a community, each one matters. We cannot become holy without the other; we are responsible for co-creating and honoring connections with others. We live in context with everyone as a member of the body of Christ. God works in us as we work together. The whole thing falls apart when we do not consider the bigger picture.

The Rule is relevant today for Benedictine oblates, lay associates of a monastery, and those who find wisdom in the spiritual insights of St. Benedict to learn how to live in connectedness with family, friends, coworkers, team members, and in all our relationships. We have much to learn.

December 15, 2024 4

Benedictine Spirituality of Work

November 2024 Oblate Reflections

Sources:

Lectio Divina—Genesis 1:26-2:3, Fill the earth and subdue it.

Book Discussion—The Oblate Life: Spirituality at Work, Dermot Tredget. Edited by Gervase Holdaway, OSB, 2008

Topics: Prayer, work, rest and study together provide a foundation for a Christian spirituality of work. St. Benedict recognized that work has a transformative power and for the monk is the principal means to seeking God. Our discussion flowed from words or phrases that resonated from sources listed above.

God created man in his image, in the divine image he created them.

We are created in the image of our Creator; we are creators, too, and it is our responsibility to contribute to the act of creation. Creation is not a once and done effort. Creation requires constant movement, growing, expanding, and even resting. We must ask ourselves if our work is valuable. Does my work add value to God’s creation? “We cannot speak about a spirituality of work without talking about an ethics of work.” (Dermot Tredget)

I give you every seed-bearing plant

In the image of our Creator, our work is to plant the seeds we are given which becomes our food. This isn’t quick and easy work; we need to rest, recover and have patience. We are in relationship with the Divine as co-creators. The Divine is not out of the picture. There is an unseen aspect of work–God is working even while we rest. Even further, what we see as useless toil may show value later. All is sacred.

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November 18, 2024 0

Curiosity is good for the soul, and for democracy too!

Cultivating curiosity is Being Benedictine.

As an educator and lover of learning, I appreciate the reference to schools in the Rule of St. Benedict. In the Prologue of The Rule, Benedict writes that the monastery is “a school for God’s service.” Whether in the monastery, home, or work—we are learning to live and love in community. Our life is a school of becoming—a continual learning.

Learning does not happen in solitude.

“A school is a community of learners: a group that comes together to learn with and from each other…education should expand our consciousness, capabilities, sensitivities, and cultural understanding. It should enlarge our worldview.” –What Is Education For? by Sir Ken Robinson and Kate Robinson, Edutopia, March 2, 2022.

As a teacher, whether it was my high school students or those who attend retreats I lead, I appreciate a curious learner—someone who is open to new ideas, willing to listen, to question, to consider diverse perspectives, and, with humility, understand that there is always something new to learn.

Curiosity is a good first step toward living SoulFully and being Benedictine.

Being Benedictine, in my experience, is a genuine attempt to meet others in love and compassion, listening with the intent to understand, encouraging inclusiveness, and respecting diversity. It is a blessing to share our feelings, faith, or perspectives and to have someone truly listen, especially those who might believe differently. Listening is the doorway to learning from others and growing in compassion; curiosity is the key.

“The spiritual life takes discipline,” Joan Chittister writes in The Rule of St. Benedict, A Spirituality for the 21^st Century. “It is something learned, to be internalized. It’s not a set of daily exercises; it’s a way of life, an attitude of mind, an orientation of soul. And it is gotten by being schooled until no rules are necessary.”

Curiosity is good for the soul.

In Women Who Runs with the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, defines the wild woman archetype as one who listens deeply, is intuitive, creative, playful, courageous, curious, loyal, and passionate. There is some wildness of divinity in us all, calling us to live fully, to reach beyond ourselves and, to discover something new. “When you limit your life to the one frame of thinking, you close out the mystery,” writes John O’ Donohue in Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong.

Curiosity is good for community. Wonder is good for the world.

Wonder, my 2023 word of the year, is an attitude of curiosity, a willingness to withhold judgment, and to be open to what happens. Dacher Keltner in Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life writes, “People who find more everyday awe show evidence of living with wonder. They are more open to new ideas. To what is unknown. To what language can’t describe…to the strengths and virtues of other people.”

Is it possible to behold our neighbor with wonder, in the spirit of hospitality? Could we hold a curious heart even when we passionately disagree with one another? Rather than defaulting to the shoulds and should-nots of orthodoxy, or a deeply held conviction, could we practice curiosity instead? Rather than seeking to change another’s opinion or defend our own, could we simply stand in awe of this great universe that holds such diversity of thought? Is it possible to let a disagreement stand to the side, while the desire to learn about the other steps forward?

Curiosity leads to wonder. Wonder leaves room for the unexpected, for learning something new.

This is how Lectio Divina, the Benedictine practice of sacred reading, can work in community. We hear different perspectives, drawing on the experiences and insights of those in our community. We can release the need for the one right way to interpret what we read and be curious about what others bring to the table. I share reflections from the richness of our oblate community discussions on this website but with a disclaimer,

“I cannot claim to have captured all the wisdom shared in our monthly oblate discussions or that I represent all oblates in attendance. The group discussion is a starting point for this reflection, but it is my interpretation of what I heard and what resonated with me. There could easily be as many different blog posts or reflections as oblates. Each of us comes to Lectio from our personal experience of God at that moment and we receive what we need in that moment as well. The beauty of Lectio Divina is that the reading, insights, and discussion may fall differently on each of our hearts. How blessed we are that there are “many dwelling places” (John 14:2)” and we are all invited to “listen with the ear of the heart.” (RB Prologue)”

Curiosity is good for democracy.

In Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit, Parker Palmer encourages us to consider “What do I have in common with people who, for example, regard their religious or political convictions as so authoritative that they feel no need to listen to anyone who sees things differently—especially that small subgroup of extremists who would use violence to advance their views?”

This can be difficult. I get it. I know too well how disagreements can escalate, and how estrangements result. I have appreciated discussions where curiosity is a motivation to more deeply understand, but I also know the heartbreak of rejection when another is not interested in my story, feelings, or perspective. The door is slammed shut for exploring possibilities, another proclaims they know what they know and there is no need to share ideas or learn something new. But I believe for many situations curiosity, wonder, listening, and a little respect could be the remedy. It may not change minds or beliefs, but it can change hearts. I believe, as Palmer does, that I can find even “the smallest patch of common ground” with others whose views are different than mine. I can disagree with another while also being Benedictine.

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September 4, 2024 0

Being Benedictine

Living SoulFully as an Oblate of St. Benedict

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