Economy and Charisms/4 - In consecrated life, the need to be seen and valued is not a weakness, but a human and spiritual dimension. Without genuine reciprocity, even the most generous vocations can wear thin
by Luigino Bruni
published in Avvenire on July 12, 2026
Giving is another name for community. From life and from the Bible, however, we know that we live and die by giving, every day, because it is precisely around our essential capacity to give that—along with the grandest words—our expectations, hopes, demands, and frustrations also gather.
Let’s consider, for example, Antonella, a nun who entered the monastery twenty years ago. In those early years, the spirit of gift and gratuitousness was what inspired and defined her entire life. She gave of herself without reservation in the community’s various tasks, from caring for the elderly sisters to welcoming guests, from cleaning to serving in the refectory. All the “reciprocity” she needed came from life itself, and she felt she owed nothing to anyone—perhaps only a debt of love. After turning forty, Sister Antonella gently entered a new phase. She began to think about something she had never considered before: “My activities, my gift, my very self, are not ‘seen’ enough by the community.” This thought became recurrent, sometimes even intrusive; it troubled her. We who observe her know, more than she does, that this is an important thought, one that, if neglected over time, grows and undermines her life; too many people with authentic vocations leave their communities because the subjective perception of “giving without receiving” eventually exhausts them—a total and chronic exhaustion that ultimately finds expression in the phrase: “I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t take it anymore: better to leave alive than to stay dead.”
This new need Sister Antonella feels can be summed up by the word: recognition, a word that does not have a good reputation in Catholic circles because it resembles ‘demand.’ In reality, it is a beautiful word because it is the flip side of the coin of gratitude. The experience of total gratuitousness without demanding recognition during the early years of one’s vocation is nonetheless fundamental, because the adult need for recognition is healthy, good, and genuine if it is preceded by years of giving-and-nothing-in-return, which will then enable one to live out this new adult phase. It is that almost infinite energy that propels the daring flight, and that later enables one to remain aloft, carried by the wind (ruah), even when one no longer has the strength to flap one’s wings.
In the workplace, this recognition is also expressed through salaries, incentives, and career advancement. A company recognizes the quality of an employee’s work by paying them well or giving them a raise, because we love pay raises—they’re signals that tell us the company appreciates and values our contribution, and therefore us as people—and for the same reason, we suffer when our colleagues get promoted and we don’t. We demand much more from our jobs than just a salary: gratitude, respect, esteem…
How, then, are recognition, gratitude, and reciprocity expressed in religious communities, where there are no salaries—or even if there were, they would not serve as measures of a person’s worth? How can we prevent Sister Antonella, now an adult, from experiencing a constant sense of insufficient recognition for her work—which soon becomes a lack of recognition of her person? As I observe and work with various communities, I am always struck by the fact that, instead of strengthening and fostering non-monetary forms of recognition (in the absence of monetary ones), these are discouraged because they are considered incompatible with the virtues of modesty and humility (which is often confused with deliberately inflicted humiliation, which is its opposite). In these communities, people rarely thank one another; in particular, they are neither acknowledged nor thanked by those in charge: almost everything is taken for granted and considered a given, as if it were all included in the initial radical choice; and if someone lets this typical adult unease show, it is interpreted and described as a lack of radical commitment and a sign of becoming bourgeois.
Let’s look at a specific aspect. Empirical studies show that it is not enough for workers to be valued by their “peers”: there is a great need to be seen and valued by supervisors and direct managers as well. A “thank you” or “good job” from a colleague is pleasing—and often important—but it is not enough; we also need it from the supervisor. But while companies have introduced coaches and counselors—new forms of (almost) spiritual individual guidance—in communities, personal dialogues are outsourced to spiritual fathers or external mentors, forgetting that dialogue between the individual and their direct supervisor is essential. This is not about falling into a hierarchical or top-down mindset, but about recognizing that in all human communities the perspectives on us (and on others) are not all the same, and there are some that cannot be overlooked—those of the people who, by mandate, have specific responsibilities toward us. Furthermore, this recognition should not be confused with the often childish need to be constantly encouraged, affirmed, and praised by “superiors”—a need that is, in fact, a symptom of low self-esteem and fragility (which must be addressed with other means). During conversations and dialogues with those in charge, there will not only be “thank yous” and “well done”; we have a vital need for someone to also see our limitations, shortcomings, and mistakes—and to point them out to us in appropriate ways. We all, in turn, do things that aren’t excellent or even good, and we know it, but if no one points this out to us, it increases the feeling of not being “seen”—an honest rebuke is a high form of recognition. Furthermore, we need genuine esteem, not the fake kind from those who don’t know us and who, at no cost to themselves, tell us “you’re doing great”; at best, we give a harmless little smile; if, on the other hand, we believe that fake esteem, we continue down a path of mistakes and vices that harm both ourselves and others. Honest feedback is an essential tool for healthy growth. The spiritual and moral abuses of the past and present must not prevent us from experiencing this special and essential form of communion; otherwise, the “outside world” ends up being limited to the TV room, the dining hall, and prayer, and communities die.
Furthermore, when there is a lack of regular and open dialogue with leaders, conversations among peers almost always turn into gossip—it is too easy for leaders to condemn “gossip”; we must instead examine the structural reasons that give rise to it!
If, moreover, the only means of recognition remains hierarchical advancement, a frenzy for positions creeps into communities—far more destructive than monetary incentives—just as happened when clergy took a vow of chastity yet were obsessed with power.
The healthy development of community life depends greatly on navigating around two fatal pitfalls: the Charybdis of excessive dependence on the gaze of superiors, which keeps the community in a state of constant infantilism and lack of autonomy; but also the Scylla—the rock against which those who, out of pain or disappointment, decide to no longer seek anyone’s gaze, crash.
The less money is used, the more other forms of recognition and gratitude must grow, because—especially as adults—life without reciprocity is very difficult, sometimes too much so. Then, at a later stage of adulthood, we will understand that no amount of reciprocity can satisfy our desire for recognition, because it is infinite. But in the meantime, we must cultivate whatever gratitude is possible and sincere.
