Let the Abbot be most solicitous in his concern for delinquent brethren, for "it is not the healthy but the sick who need a physician" (Matt 9:12) And therefore he ought to use every means that a wise physician would use. Let him send senpectae, that is, brethren of mature years and wisdom,who may as it were secretly console the wavering brother and induce him to make humble satisfaction; comforting him that he may not "be overwhelmed by excessive grief" (2 Cor. 2:7), but that, as the Apostle says, charity may be strengthened in him (2 Cor. 2:8). And let everyone pray for him.For the Abbot must have the utmost solicitude and exercise all prudence and diligence lest he lose any of the sheep entrusted to him. Let him know that what he has undertaken is the care of weak souls and not a tyranny over strong ones; and let him fear the Prophet's warning through which God says, "What you saw to be fat you took to yourselves, and what was feeble you cast away" (Ezec. 34:3,4). Let him rather imitate the loving example of the Good Shepherd who left the ninety-nine sheep in the mountains and went to look for the one sheep that had gone astray,on whose weakness He had such compassion that He deigned to place it on His own sacred shoulders and thus carry it back to the flock (Luke 15:4-5).

A Quaker friend - or perhaps less redundantly - a friend of mine who is a Quaker was a college president.

He spoke of the value of "eldering" faculty members from time to time.

By this he meant engaging in a serious, sustained, and purposefully personal dialogue with an individual faculty member.

The personal aspect was, he thought, very important. He perceived that faculty generally - and the younger in particular - are very good at abstraction. They can easily neglect the very human implications of their teaching and behavior.

When he was most concerned was when my friend would be most engaged.

Above is Saint Benedict with his Monks by Sodoma.