In times of uncertainty and collapse, we root ourselves in a steady rhythm of shared prayer and work. We choose this not as escape but as a way to stay grounded and useful. The early rising, the chanting of Psalms, the practice of lectio divina—these are not romantic disciplines but necessary ones. They strip away illusion and make room for clear seeing. Together, we hold the tension of detachment and compassion. Benedict stood “steady, centered, poised, and rooted,” gaining “a slight distance from the world” even as his heart or fulcrum of engagement was “quite close to the world, … loving it, feeling its pains and its joys” as his own. We remain close to the world’s pain without being consumed by it. Benedict’s example reminds us to stay centered, to act from a contemplative core. In a fractured world, we keep showing up—steady, silent, and focused—trusting that this quiet fidelity matters.
May we stand steady and rooted,
holding the world’s pain with love
while remaining anchored in
the calm of contemplative presence.
(inspired by Richard Rohr, A Lever and a Place to Stand; Carmen Acevedo Butcher, A Hospitable Soul and a Well-Said Word in a Hostile Time)