The approach of Christmas offers a particularly opportune moment to revisit, calmly and without caricature, a dimension that often escapes the notice of senior management: the contemplative life. I’m not referring to an intimate retreat or an evasion of responsibilities, but rather to a genuine source of inner clarity, freedom, and strength for effective leadership. Let me briefly outline the purpose of these reflections: when a manager cultivates a personal relationship with the Lord, a friendship, they learn to prioritize people over their own interests, lose their fear of what they cannot control, gain discernment in interpreting circumstances, and become more just and magnanimous. And this has a positive impact on their company, their family, their community, and ultimately, their country.

However, the prevailing cultural climate pushes us in the opposite direction. In modern times, there has been an attempt to remove the idea of ​​transcendence from the professional, political, and business spheres, as if faith were tolerable only in the private sphere, provided it doesn’t interfere with how we understand human beings and make decisions in public. The paradox is that we live in a society that, even when it declares itself secular, breathes moral categories inherited from Christianity. Tom Holland has explained this with a very suggestive image: “we are like fish swimming in Christian waters, even when we no longer realize it” (1). The dignity of each person, concern for the weak, suspicion of power when it humiliates, the idea that humanity has intrinsic value—these are not “natural truths” that appear spontaneously: they have a history, and that history is profoundly marked by the Christian revolution (2).

And yet, almost all of us try to explain reality and control the future apart from the wealth of knowledge and guidance that Christian doctrine could offer. In business, this translates into a very concrete temptation: to think that humanity can only be understood within the horizon of earthly life, as if everything could be reduced to performance, incentives, metrics, reputation, and risk management. Perhaps we have arrived at this situation driven by the insistence of a few who refuse to accept the reality that human beings cannot be fully explained without transcendence. But we have also arrived at it because of the silence of many. Faced with incisive questions such as, “Why bring God into professional conversations?”, “Isn’t ethics enough?”, “Isn’t faith a private matter?”, we remain silent, and in our silence, we have almost imperceptibly adopted the positions imposed by others.

That silence, it must be said honestly, has not always been due to a lack of conviction. In many cases, it has resulted from an inadequate understanding of the Truth that Christianity proclaims. Because of the religious upbringing we have received, many of us have reduced the spiritual life to the performance of external acts: going to Mass on Sundays, giving alms, participating in volunteer work, bringing gifts to underprivileged children at Christmas. And, as a second reduction, we have identified “spiritual life” with a moral judgment: you must strive to be good; and therefore, you must not steal, lie, or commit impure acts. All of that is important, but if it becomes the core of our faith, it leaves out the most valuable aspect of Christianity: building friendship with Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Herein lies a crucial point for the manager. Friendship with Christ is not a pious addition; it is far more deeply connected to the human condition, which is relational. A human being cannot be understood in isolation, because their nature demands communication, always requires a “you.” And there are human circumstances—some quite common in a manager’s life—in which the only truly possible communication is that which the person can have with their Creator. In these circumstances, no one else enters the picture: not the board, not the team, not the mentor, not the family. And if, at that point, the person has not cultivated a personal relationship with God, they will remain alone, not only emotionally, but also on the most critical level: the truth about themselves and what they must do.

Therefore, the contemplative life is nothing other than cultivating this friendship with the Creator, based on two realities that Christianity teaches, and which, when properly understood, make everything surprisingly simple: that He wants to have this relationship with me; and that He is the One who loves me most. When these truths become real within us—not just ideas, but a spiritual experience sought with perseverance—friendship ceases to be an ideal for “special people” and becomes an accessible path for any leader who wants to live with inner unity. Guardini, in a different vein, describes this need for inner balance: life tends to scatter outward and needs inward direction, like breathing, which has two indispensable movements (3). In the language of our time: without interiority, the agenda rules; and when the agenda rules, the person becomes reactive, calculating, and ultimately, fragile.

When a business leader begins to cultivate this friendship with the Lord, they learn to put others—customers, employees, suppliers, neighbors—before their own interests. Not because it’s “convenient,” but because they discover a truer order. Furthermore, they begin to better understand circumstances: not only financial or competitive variables, but also human ones, which are often what determine the true health of an organization. And they turn to their great Friend for guidance and to endure difficult times.

An executive who lives this way becomes more aware of a reality that technology alone cannot tame: we never have control over all the variables. And yet, at times we feel secure because the few variables we manage to see seem to be under control: How naive we are!… The contemplative life introduces intellectual and practical humility: it teaches us to decide without idolizing our own predictive abilities; to persevere without succumbing to anxiety; to correct our course without losing our dignity.

Over time, their capacity to care for others continues to grow, as does their initiative. They undertake new actions seeking the common good of the people in their company, then in their city, and then in their country. And they become more just, yes; but they don’t stop there: they aspire to be more magnanimous. Justice ensures what is due; magnanimity opens possibilities where before there was only “politics” and “calculation.” A businessman who already lives this reality once told me: “At the end of the year, the first thing I do is review the profit and loss statement to see if I can increase my employees’ compensation.” The statement is simple, but it portrays a shift in focus: the result not as a trophy, but as a means to serve specific people.

If we think about it, we would all benefit greatly in our society if our business leaders began to lead contemplative lives. Perhaps we need to do more to promote this reality, using mature language, without oversimplification or prejudice. This Christmas season, I hope, will be an opportunity to reflect on this and to begin, each of us in our own way, a genuine revolution: a revolution of inner life that becomes service; a revolution of faith that becomes discernment; and a revolution of friendship with Christ that becomes leadership.

Merry Christmas!

References

(1) Interview with Tom Holland, “We swim in Christian waters,” Church Times (September 27, 2019).

(2) Tom Holland in Dominion (2019).

(3) Romano Guardini, reflection on the need for inner counterbalance (“composure”) in Meditations Before Mass (translation at guardini.wordpress.com).