Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.

The World can be a fucked-up place and I don’t blame you for wanting to escape it. It can be tempting to withdraw from the noise, the politics, and the suffering around us. We feel disillusioned, burnt-out, and disgusted by the evils of this reality. But as people of faith, we are called to participate in the democratic process, engage in the social and political struggles of our time, and serve those in need. This calling is not just a civic duty; it’s a moral obligation, rooted deeply in the Christian and Luxumbrian theology.

Simone Weil, reminds us that "attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity." This is the essence of engaging in the democratic process—not just casting a vote, but paying attention to the needs of others, the policies that affect the most vulnerable, and the structures that uphold or oppress. Participation in democracy, like spirituality, is not a passive act. It requires attention, discernment, and action. Weil warns us against the allure of complete human detachment: "The danger is not that the soul should doubt whether there is any bread, but that, by a lie, it should persuade itself that it is not hungry." In other words, we must resist the temptation to pretend that the world’s problems don’t concern us. To paraphrase Weil, Love shows us what is real. It illuminates what is and what is not. Love shows us the distance between us and the loved. Love is without imagination as imagination creates value, pure adoration is without an object. Without the veil of our imagination, we can love beyond the conceptual.

While it seems counter intuitive that Catholic monastic tradition, urges us to be actively involved in the world. Saint Benedict, the father of Western monasticism, structured his Rule around the idea of ora et labora—prayer and work. Monks were not called to simply retreat into isolation but to cultivate a balance of spiritual reflection and practical action. The monastery was not an escape from the world; it was a model of how to live meaningfully within it. As Thomas Merton, a modern Catholic monk, once said, "The world is made up of people who are fully awake, alive to their duties and responsibilities in the face of suffering, injustice, and pain."

It’s easy to dismiss politics as a dirty business. It IS dirty. Filthy even, but one cannot grow a garden if they do not get their hands dirty. The French Gnostics may have seen the material world as corrupt, but even they acknowledged that the pursuit of higher knowledge was never meant to be selfish or detached. They sought gnosis—wisdom, but not for personal salvation alone. True wisdom, as they saw it, brought responsibility. Responsibility, participation, and direct engagement.  We are part of this world, and it is not enough to seek enlightenment for ourselves. Enlightenment must be sought for the betterment of all. All your gnosis, all your holy fire means NOTHING if used for the salvation of all humankind.

This world cannot be a garden if the gardeners are unwilling to touch dirt.

Instead, we are called to engage with it, to transform it. Participating in the democratic process is one way to ensure that the dignity of every person is respected. Our faith demands that we not turn away. Christ Himself did not reject the world, but entered into it, lived within its messiness, and gave His life for it. Christ suffered not so that we could go to heaven, but so that we could have heaven here. Now.  
Christ did not reject this world; he rejected the corrupt powers and institutions that ran it. Imagine a Christ that refused to be among the people, a Christ that rejected his apostles because they were unworthy. A Christ that sold salvation behind a screen and never treated with those that heard his message.   A Christ who gladly open the doors to the temple and welcomed the money changers in.

No tables flipped.

To cripples healed

No one fed.

Would that be a Christ you’d follow?

Would that be Christ?

As followers of Christ, we cannot ignore the political and social realities that shape the lives of our neighbors. We must vote, protest, organize, serve, and sacrifice. The world’s problems are our problems. As Weil beautifully put it: “The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say, ‘What are you going through?’” If we truly love our neighbors, we will not retreat from their suffering, nor will we retreat from the work that needs to be done. We will enter into it, and by doing so, we will honor the image of God that is present in every human being.

To turn our backs on the world is to turn our backs on Christ.