When I first entered Jesuit formation, one of the earliest pieces of wisdom I learned was that loneliness is a real thing, and we can learn to befriend it. The COVID-19 pandemic, when the world shut its doors and we were forced indoors, brought this truth into sharp focus. Many of us discovered that the only way forward was to turn inward, to meet ourselves, and to draw strength from within. It was a test not only of our endurance but also of our capacity to look into the mirror of our inner life.
We live in crowded cities, yet our hearts often echo in silence. On buses, in classrooms, at parties, we sit shoulder to shoulder and still feel unseen. Loneliness has become an epidemic of our age.
It shows most starkly in the eyes of the elderly. These are men and women who once held entire families together, who raised children, built homes, and kept traditions alive. Today, many sit alone in rooms heavy with silence, waiting for a phone call that hardly rings, footsteps that never arrive. Their loneliness weighs more than their illnesses.
But loneliness does not belong only to the old. It is alive in young hearts, too. Technology promised a more connected world, but often delivers the opposite. We scroll, like, and share; for a moment, the glow of the screen feels like warmth. Then the device goes dark, and the silence returns, louder than before.
Even when we spend long hours with friends, partners, or family, we can still feel strangely alone. A phone in hand, a wandering mind, or a conversation that never leaves the surface can make physical closeness feel hollow. True connection is not measured by the quantity of time together but by the quality of attention and openness we bring to one another. When presence is shallow, even crowded rooms can feel empty; when presence is deep, even brief encounters can feel nourishing. That is why, perhaps, some people with whom we interacted only briefly can soothe our hearts and even ease the temporary pain we carry.
Psychologists define loneliness as the gap between the social connections we want and the ones we actually have. Research shows it doesn’t just weigh on individuals; it seeps into relationships. Loneliness is linked to lower trust and higher conflict. Interestingly, what makes a difference is not mere distraction but how partners think about and attend to their relationship — their “relationship awareness.” Loneliness is not just a private ache; it can erode the very bonds we hope will save us from it.
Getting rid of loneliness
Sparks of Hope
Yet the picture is not entirely dark. All over the world, small sparks of hope are flickering. In Korea, new housing trends are bringing families closer. Parents choose to live near their grown children so that meals, laughter, and care flow easily between homes.
In South Asia, the old joint family system, once dismissed as outdated, is finding new admirers. Children grow up with grandparents’ stories, parents’ guidance, and cousins’ companionship. It isn’t always easy, but the rewards of belonging outweigh the frictions of daily life. Togetherness, once seen as a burden, is revealed as a blessing.
In Africa, the old saying “It takes a village to raise a child” still rings true. Extended kinship networks step in when parents are absent. Uncles, aunts, and neighbors nurture children as their own. Community is not an option; it is a way of survival, and in that survival is joy.
Across Europe, another model is taking root: co-housing communities. In Denmark and the Netherlands, groups of families and individuals design neighborhoods where everyone has a private home but shares gardens, kitchens, and responsibilities. Meals are cooked together, childcare is shared, and loneliness is kept at bay. These are not just houses but living communities where “neighbor” once again means “friend.”
Learning to Befriend Loneliness
Even young people are beginning to see the difference between shallow company and meaningful companionship. Volunteering to plant trees, reading books together, and joining community kitchens are some of the shared purposes that create bonds stronger than any late-night party could. Purpose gives weight to relationships. It turns the company into a connection.
Let us set aside the idea of spiritual awakening for a moment and focus instead on how monks and priests have transformed single life into a rich solitude. In Buddhist monasteries and Catholic seminaries alike, novices are trained to “make friends” with boredom and turn them into solitude. Hours of silent prayer, meditation, repetitive manual work, and limited stimulation gradually retrain attention and emotion. Neuroscience backs this up: brain scans of contemplatives show steadier focus and quieter mental chatter. Franciscan nuns at prayer and Buddhist meditators alike exhibit brain patterns linked to reduced rumination and greater calm. That kind of attentional training helps transform aloneness from something edgy into something restful.
“Not bothered by loneliness” doesn’t mean monks or priests never feel it; rather, their formation teaches them to work skillfully with it. Psychology studies confirm that when solitude is chosen and guided by simple practices (quiet sitting, reading, or prayer), it can lower stress and leave us calmer. In the Jesuit tradition, spiritual direction, fraternity, and structured prayer are not luxuries; they are ways of metabolizing solitude into reflection instead of isolation. In short, formation doesn’t erase loneliness; it gives people the tools and context to convert it into solitude.
This lesson is not only for monks or clergy. It is for anyone who wants to guard their inner well-being. Personal discipline can reframe loneliness as an invitation: to turn inward, discover meaning, and build inner strength. Wellness is not a passive state but a fortress maintained through practice.
The Heart’s Only Home
Perhaps the cure for loneliness does not lie in more noise, more screens, or more distractions. Perhaps it lies in older, quieter wisdom: eating at the same table, talking without phones in hand, walking side by side, listening with patience.
Building meaningful relationships does not demand grand gestures. It may begin with choosing to eat meals together, checking in on a neighbor, calling our parents more often, or creating spaces where children and elders are woven in, not left out.
In the end, the heart does not ask for more followers or more likes. It asks for presence. For another heart willing to be there gently and attentively. And perhaps the strongest heart is not the one endlessly seeking others but the one at peace within itself, ready to meet others from a place of fullness rather than need.
Loneliness, then, is not a life sentence. It is a teacher. And if we dare to befriend it, it can lead us not just back to others, but back to ourselves.
