72 - When the World Teaches, We Must Learn
We come into the start of October carrying the weight of a turbulent summer. The world trembled with unrest, uncertainty, and upheaval — and though we may each have stood far from the epicenters of turmoil, none of us were untouched. Confusion, fear, and exhaustion ripple outward. Even quiet lives can feel shaken by storms in the distance.
But here, at the turning of the season, we recall a vital truths of our faith and our lives: the world is not only a place we live in — it is a place that teaches us. And so we turn to the Fourth Keystone: Endeavor to learn new things and be educated by others.
This Keystone was made for times like these.
Times of comfort do not stretch us. Times of ease do not demand growth. Rather, it is when the world shakes, that is when ignorance is revealed, when our assumptions are shattered, and when we are confronted with how much we lack, how much we do not know and how much we have left to learn. Turmoil shows us our limits. It exposes the places where our understanding is too thin, our wisdom too shallow, and our vision too narrow.
And though such realizations can feel frightening, they are also an invitation.
For learning is not passive. It is not something that “happens” to a person. It is a choice — a posture of humility before the vastness of reality. It is the willingness to say:
“I do not yet know enough. Teach me.”
Life often demands that humility of us.
The Paraclete calls us to answer it.
The world reminded us of something essential: we need each other’s knowledge.
In crisis we depend on those who know more than we do: on experts, on guides, on neighbors who share warning, wisdom, or help. In turn, we become teachers ourselves, offering what we know, what we’ve lived, what we’ve learned. No one becomes wise in isolation. Wisdom is communal, built in layers, shaped by the insights of others.
The Fourth Keystone urges us not only to acquire knowledge, but to receive it — to let others shape us, refine us, correct us, deepen us. This is an act of courage, especially when the world feels unstable. But it is the path toward a future self that is stronger than our present one.
And remember this as well: turmoil births innovation.
History’s great leaps, whether in science, in philosophy, in cooperation, in justice, most often arise from the crucible of hardship. When old systems fail, new understandings emerge. When familiar paths collapse, new ones are forged.
So let this be the season in which we do not fear the lessons of life, but accept them.
Let us ask:
What did the world reveal about us?
What do we now see more clearly?
What must we learn next?
Who can teach us — and whom can we teach?
We cannot quiet every storm in the world. But we can become wiser, steadier, and more discerning because of them.
May this be a month of learning — freely, humbly, together — that we may rise stronger than we were before.
This is The Way.
