ELCA Church Council Meeting

The mosaic tile installation at the first floor
elevators in The Lutheran Center.

I just returned from attending a 3-day meeting of the Church Council of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) at The Lutheran Center in Chicago. The Lutheran Center is an 11-story building near O’Hare Airport with dedicated space for Church Council meetings and a chapel with organ on the first floor. The entire building is filled with religious art worthy of a separate tour.

The organ in the first floor chapel during the last day's Eucharist.

The lobby of the 9th floor of The Lutheran Center.

I’m the invited ecumenical advisor, elected from the Executive Council of The Episcopal Church (TEC), our counterpart to the ELCA Church Council. In both cases, the Councils are the governing bodies in the interim between the TEC’s triennial General Convention and the ELCA’s biennial Churchwide Assembly. Incidentally, the Lutherans generally don’t use the initials “ELCA” when referring to themselves but say “Evangelical Lutheran Church.”

The Church Council is comprised of 37 (vs. 38 in the TEC Executive Council) elected members including four presiding officers: the Presiding Bishop, a lay Vice President, a lay Secretary, and a lay Treasurer, all of whom are on staff at The Lutheran Center. Guests include synodical (diocesan in TEC lingo) bishops, and representatives from program units, advocacy organizations, and ecumenical partners.

Three interconnected rooms held approximately 120, with the Council members seated in two U-shaped tables facing the head table, the bishops and youth representatives behind them, and the guests on either side of the Council members. Although expensive to include so many advisors in Church Council meetings, the Lutheran commitment is to inclusion of all the voices of the church, particularly during small group and committee work.

The Church Council meeting room.

The bishops' seating is on the right.

Even though the ELCA is intentional and attentive to racial, ethnic, gender, youth, pastors and lay representation in its elected members (mandated quotas of 40% female, 60% male; 10% youth; 10% people of color), the room held mostly Whites, a handful of Blacks, and even fewer Hispanics/Latinos and Asians (no Asian Council members, however). I also did not see anyone who was visibly handicapped.

Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson stated that the ELCA is 97% White, and the intentionality towards diversity is very present. Their concept of “Reconciled Diversity” acknowledges our unity always in the ground of our diversity with reference to First Corinthians 12 (There are many parts, yet one body), which was referred to repeatedly as reports and resolutions were presented.

“The ELCA Church Council is committed to lead the church toward racial and gender justice and full inclusion and participation,” is a statement on the daily “Process Observation Form” which attendees complete. Process Observers reported at the close of each day’s business session as a means of addressing racism within the Council itself.

Goodsoil, a consortium of organizations working for the full inclusion of LGBT people in the ELCA, had a cadre of six to eight persons present throughout the Council meeting. They took up the entire back row of one side of the guests’ seating. A retired bishop told me that in response to his query, Goodsoil representatives said they would keep showing up for Council meetings until LGBT people are fully integrated into the sacramental and ministerial life of their church.

The Lutherans approach “ubuntu,” the theme of TEC’s General Convention this past July, through the words “interconnected,” “interdependent,” and “neighbor.” Ubuntu, a Bantu word, means “I in you and you in me,” or as Archbishop Desmond Tutu says, “you can't exist as a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness. You can't be human all by yourself . . . .”

From Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson to numerous pastors and lay leaders in breakout sessions, the interdependence of human beings was foundational in every discussion and in every document that was presented to the Council members and guests. Part of the Lutheran theology is that they seek to respond to God’s love through care for the neighbor, and they acknowledge a pastoral responsibility to all God’s children.

One of the challenges of serving in this liaison post is learning a whole new church vocabulary and church polity. The Lutherans are sticklers for language, especially right now as they engage the reactions to the August, 2009, adoption of their tenth Social Statement entitled “Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust.” Two concepts from the Social Statement were discussed widely during the Church Council meeting: “the bound conscience” and “publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous, same gender relationship.”

The bound conscience refers to the different understandings of Scripture and what constitutes responsible action that faithful people come to in their discernment of ethics and church practice. The ELCA acknowledges that consensus does not exist regarding same gender sexual relationships.

Publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous, same gender relationships are no longer a barrier to full inclusion in the rostered (ordained pastors) life of the ELCA in terms of church policy. How each bishop and each congregation responds (calls or doesn’t call an LGBT pastor) is a matter of bound conscience. Much discussion ensued around what “publicly accountable” means. Among the ideas raised by Council members was that a possible benchmark might be that the same gender relationship would be marked by whatever is the highest civil designation, e.g., civil union or marriage, in the relevant locale.

Many Council members were uncomfortable with the lack of clear guidelines, and it was suggested that clarity may not be possible. Presiding Bishop Hanson referenced the “Background Essay on Biblical Texts for ‘Journey Together Faithfully, Part Two: The Church and Homosexuality’” as another example of how clarity is not always possible. (Journey Together Faithfully is the Lutheran study guide that preceded the Social Statement on Human Sexuality.) The Background Essay’s authors, Arland J. Hultgren and Walter F. Taylor Jr., concluded that biblical scholars cannot be the final and only arbiter of human sexuality: “But finally their contributions are only one part of a larger discussion among those who seek the mind of Christ in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit.”

One last observation is on the discipline that the Lutherans exhibited in not using the term “dissenters” to refer to those who disagree with the actions of the August, 2009, Churchwide Assembly in adopting the Social Statement on Human Sexuality and thus, removing any policy bars to full inclusion of LGBT people in rostered ministry. The theology behind this is that all are within the circle, all are full, equal and necessary members of The Body of Christ, and "dissenter" is a term that makes the neighbor into the other.

Bishop Hanson reported that a recent survey of the 65 synodical bishops indicated that out of approximately 10,400 congregations in the ELCA, 87 have held the first of two required votes to leave the ELCA of which 28 failed to reach the 2/3-majority required, and only 5 have held a second vote. He pointed out that the ELCA is at present living at the intersection of hope and fear and is committed to the proclamation of the Gospel and service to the neighbor.

I was greatly enriched and blessed to have the privilege of attending this Church Council meeting. Four highlights stand out in my experience. The first was doing Bible Study with Presiding Bishop Hanson and retired Bishop Donald McCoid. The second was "Cafe Conversations," a guided hour and a half discussion on reactions within the synods to the Social Statement on Human Sexuality. I was at a table facilitated by the deeply reflective Synodical Bishop Michael Burk, who has been spending the vast majority of his time in recent months pastoring to those who are discomfited by the actions of the Churchwide Assembly.

The third was Lutheran Evening Prayer, which turned out to be what we Episcopalians call Evensong. I thoroughly enjoyed all of the hymns from the Lutheran Worship book, which seem to somehow be more liltingly melodic than the hymns of the Episcopal Hymnal. And the fourth was an early morning (7:00 AM) breakfast meeting to learn more about the Church in Society Unit, comprised of the domestic and world mission and public policy and advocacy portfolios of the ELCA.

I was warmly welcomed and well orientated along with the new class of 13 Church Council members. I look forward to the next Church Council meeting in April, 2010.

Some Day

It's hard to concentrate on austerity
when I'm smelling fresh baked bread
as I'm typing on my top-of-the-line PC.

I'm chatting with my friend in Ghana
trying to downplay my first-world affluence
sophisticated world traveler that I am.

He's never been to the next country over
though he's got a yearning from the learning
done at the local Internet cafe.

A friend subscribes to simplicity
release from abundance
atonement for plenty.

Tis the season for retail therapy
perusing the shelves and racks
for a new skin, a new attitude.

Dining at the new rib joint
there's a waiting line to eat
Solidarity with refugee campers.

You've got to be kidding, you say
I say the sky fell when you weren't looking
My sister weeps, wrenching her heart inside out.

My friend staggers beneath a plenitude of grief:
Brother-in-law, brother, daughter-in-law.
Dying. Almost dying. Enough. Enough already.

How dare I connect the words
living and dying in one breath
Superstition that saying it makes it so.

Prayers seem somehow inadequate
What is solace? Compassion is
a hot meal delivered to the door.

I'm trying on the grieving. I'm next in line.
I don't know how to give comfort.
Nor to take it.

I'm auditioning for statue
marble avatar of contemporary woman
who stares but does not see.

Your withheld tears wash over me
salty rain upon a monument
invading my cracks and crevices.

Real Life

It's been almost two months since I last posted to this blog. A lot of life has intervened, and a lot of writing has occurred in other venues, including lots of opinions expressed and advice given. It was a relief to give myself permission to let go of this and my other blog "Stories from Mom's Mouth" so that I could attend to the people in my life who needed my love and my presence completely.

Chief among those people has been my lovely Goddaughter who has emerged on the other side of a five-week mis-adventure not entirely of her own choosing. Please pray for "Ms. Debate Queen." Her spirit is indomitable, and her love is enormous. She is not wrong; she just needs some time and some help.

Families are complex organisms that are never static for a moment. In my Goddaughter's family, each member has strongly held points of view, dreams, hopes, fears, idiosyncracies, stubbornness, flaws and more that complicate an already complex mix when actions are taken that throw everything into a free-wheeling, gyroscopic spinning out. One would like to think, to believe, to cling to, the thought that there are bounds, much like the walls of a pinball machine, that will keep the loved one contained in safety, but life is not so measured. Life, lived large, is not so benign.

I have counseled acquiescence to a pragmatic reality that is irresistible. The words of the Borg, "Resistance is futile," ring in my ears. I am a pragmatist, bottom line. If reality is what is ahead, then let us meet it with eyes wide open, scouring the contours of the horizon for strategic handholds and footholds where we just might be able to make an imprint that is personal, that marks a claim of ownership unembellished by someone else's spoor.

Acquiescence is a sort of choice, a very limited sort of choice between non-choice A and non-choice B. Acquiescence is the choice gleaned out of non-choices. I believe, truly, that in acquiescence lies a glimmer of hope, because acquiescence is about choosing to stay in the game, however stacked the cards against you, choosing to keep your eyes and ears open for the opportunity to make better choices next time.

Body Sense and Accountability

I've been learning a few new lessons and re-learning a few old ones recently. That's the thing about lessons. My memory is short, my attention span is limited, and I selectively retain only the lessons that support my druthers. The significant lesson I've been learning or re-learning - it's hard to tell which it is sometimes - is knowing when to ask for help, and then following through and actually asking for help, and then following through even further and actually using the advice that's been given to me.

When it was time to schedule my annual physical with my internist a couple of months ago, I decided that it was finally time to say something about the ache in my shoulder that has been there for, oh, maybe the past year or year and a half. I asked for a referral to physical therapy. I also decided that it was time to throw in the towel, admit that I am powerless over my weight and eating habits, and that I needed to be accountable to someone besides myself. So, I asked for a referral to a dietitian.

I've been to four physical therapy sessions, and they have been truly helpful. The single most helpful piece of advice was from the first session, when the therapist recommended that I set a timer to go off every hour when I am working at my computer. What a great idea! I sometimes sit at the computer for four or five hours straight when I'm in the zone, reading, researching and writing. Not good for my knees, my neck or my shoulders. Not good for my relationships with my mother and my husband who share my living quarters.

As it has turned out, each therapist who has treated the shoulder has commented on how tight my entire upper body is. "Tight as a board," is what one of the therapists said. Another therapist found tightness in places where I didn't know that I had muscles, like the underside of the armpit towards the back. The stretching and strengthening exercises have been helpful, too, and I'm learning how to do them on my own when I'm at home.

I'm working on being more consistent and persistent, but right now, anything is a huge improvement over nothing. Most of the information I've been receiving is not new news to me. I've had gym memberships and personal trainers and even free weights and exercise equipment at home. But I forget, and while I'm disciplined in matters of work, I'm a wreck in matters of taking care of my body. Your body forgives you when you're in your twenties or thirties. There is no body forgiveness at sixty.

Today was my first appointment with the dietitian. I've been down this road before, too. She was cool. She talked about incremental steps and really was more like a life coach than a dietitian. We talked much more about identifying specific goals, habits and ways in which I sabotage myself than about menus and counting calories. Wow, she was telling me to get to know myself in regard to food, eating habits, and what drives me to eat mindlessly.

I told the dietitian that I wanted to be accountable to someone besides myself, because my self-talk gets me into trouble. I'm really good at fooling myself even while I demand honesty from others. The dietitian recommended looking at my support systems and recruiting their help. She suggested affirmations and mantras around eating habits. I got to take home a nifty microwaveable, partitioned, covered plastic dish that will give me cues on portion control.

Today's only the first day, but I already feel better about the more reasonable sized portions I had for lunch and dinner today. Yesterday, I probably would have felt deprived by the smaller portions. The only things that have changed from yesterday to today are my awareness and my attitude.

A friend I was discussing the physical therapy and the weight with made an astute observation, which helps to turn my negative thinking into a positive. She said that instead of what I have always characterized as a high pain threshold, which is why I tend not to notice the black and blue marks that appear randomly on my arms and legs from running into things, it's an issue of body awareness. She pointed out that I need to awaken my awareness of my physical self so that I am more alert to changes in my body and how to respond more appropriately to injuries and compensating behavior for injuries. In the food arena, I need to get in touch with knowing when I'm full and stop eating.

So, let me share a few of the mantras from this recent learning and re-learning:

1. Eat only 10's. If it's a treat like a piece of cake, and it doesn't taste like the best piece of cake, just stop eating it.

2. I'm not a garbage disposal. Or, as Herb would say, it costs the same whether you finish it or not. No more clean plate nonsense from my childhood. No, the starving children in wherever don't care whether or not I finish everything on my plate.

3. Portion control before you start eating. My friend Jo taught me this one about eating in restaurants. Ask for a take-out box when you order and have it brought to you with your meal. Divide the meal into halves, and take half home for a second meal. Saves money, too. And at home, the dietitian recommended preparing a lunch plate when Mom dishes out a huge portion for me at dinner time.

Mom is part of the clean plate and clean pot club. She doesn't want to save leftovers. So, she puts it all on my plate. We grew up thinking food equals love. My dear husband, in an effort to show support, gives me permission, nay, encouragement, when I'm eyeing that bag of potato chips at the supermarket. As my brother, Jon, says, it doesn't matter what size the bag of chips is, they're all one-portion sizes after you open the bag. So, the trick is not to bring the bag into the house, or better yet, to the checkout counter.

I'm a card-carrying member of the shame and blame club. It comes with the age and the time when I was growing up. I've got to be accountable for myself. It isn't Mom's fault that there's too much food on my plate and that I eat it all. It isn't Herb's fault that I pick up the bag of chips and leave the store with them. It's like everything else in my life: I've got to want to do this for myself - the exercise, the eating right. Each day is a new beginning. There's going to be some slippage, no doubt on that count. But as we Chinese are fond of quoting Confucius, a journey of a thousand steps begins with the first step.

The Perils of Mahjongg and Sudoku

It's the tail end of a long weekend, and we've had a lovely family weekend. Herb has been home for a rare six day period, with doctor's visits sandwiching the time with us. The grandsons came for supper on Saturday and spent the night so that my son, Corin, and his live-in girlfriend, Ashley, could celebrate her birthday at an adult dinner. Corin and Ashley picked the boys up for an outing on Sunday afternoon while I prepared a birthday dinner for Ashley, complete with gluten free birthday cake and brownies. I don't cook often, but I do enjoy doing it when I have the time and a reason to put in the effort.

Today was a quiet day at home. Herb has been watching the Golf Channel. I've been puttering in the kitchen, making breakfast and lunch and one more batch of brownies, because, after all, one should eat brownies everyday! Mom went to the Apple Store in Boulder to take a class on how to use her new iPhone, which my brother, Jon, bought for her when he was here for a visit two weeks ago. I've been thinking off and on all day about duty and responsibility with regard to family, in between chores and Mahjongg and Sudoku on the computer.

My mother has lived with us since we moved back to Colorado in 2000 and into this house that year. In fact, I flew my mother in from San Diego and my daughter and I drove up from Amarillo to house hunt in March of 2000, while Herb was working for an extended time in Scotland. I bought this house because of its configuration, two master suites and a Jack and Jill suite (two bedrooms connected by a bathroom), which was suitable to blending my mother into our household. Mom occupies the Jack and Jill suite, which gives her (and us) a great deal of privacy while also integrating her into our household rather than segregating her into a mother-in-law apartment.

Our daughter, Cece, was entering tenth grade when we moved here, and she greatly benefited from having her grandmother in her daily life for those last three years of high school. Cece often needed the coddling and cuddling that her grandmother would give her, because Grandma didn't have to deal with any of Cece's homework or friends drama, which fell to me. Herb was traveling constantly in his job as a consultant and, lucky for him, missed out on most of the nightly drama of an intense young woman with teenage angst. It's remarkable that Cece made it to adulthood and that I didn't commit murder. I don't take getting through those high school years for granted at all. I recognize that some families don't make it through in one piece.

Mom had lived in San Diego for six years, since the death from cancer of my youngest brother, retiring from her restaurant business to help raise my brother's then five-year old son. As my nephew got older and more independent, he spent less time in the company of his grandmother, which made Mom very lonely. San Diego is a large town, and even after six years, Mom hadn't put down the roots that she did almost immediately here in rural Boulder County, Colorado. It became clear that it was time to move Mom in with us when I grew tired of hearing her complain of how lonely she was and how she didn't have an appetite. I had begun to dread answering the phone.

I was engaged in wishful thinking today about how nice it would be if it were just Herb and me occupying this house and I didn't have to cede control of my kitchen over to my mother. My lovingly collected artisan pottery dishes and gourmet kitchen gadgets have all been relegated to backs of cupboards and bottom drawers in favor of Mom's preferred plastic bowls and recycled jars with old labels not indicative of their present contents. I thought about not having to worry about another person in the house when we wanted to turn the volume up high on the TV. I looked around at my endless piles of books and papers in the family and dining rooms in addition to my office and how they offend Mom's sense of tidiness and order and how much I hate it when my piles get moved.

Then I thought about being a mother and what that means in terms of a mother's sense of responsibility towards her children. I know from my own choices and behavior towards my daughter that I am constantly concerned about her well-being and eager to offer help when it's needed, asked for and appropriate. I've been there to help her move from one apartment to another during college and to her home in another state for law school. I've lent an ear in person and by phone when she's been in the throes of relationship issues or doubts about the next step to take after college graduation. I know that my mother would be there for me, too, no matter what my issues were, without any hesitation or thought about sacrifice of her time and energy.

Why, then, do I sometimes chafe with resentment at my sacrifice of privacy and the occasional deferment of my own chosen activity to be here for my mother? For me, the answer is multifaceted, but boils down to one dimension: the tension between my upbringing as a dutiful daughter/female/wife and my inculcation into the feminist movement. Perhaps someone else observing me might name the one dimension differently: the tension between a selfish woman and her obligations to her family, between self and duty. I name the dimension not particularly to comment on the goodness or badness of either end of the spectrum or weigh one against the other. That commentary I will save for a future post.

Feelings of resentment are interesting phenomenon. My sense is that even for someone who is supremely and constantly resentful, resentment is not an emotion that is easily sustained when one is preoccupied with full immersion into life and all that life has to offer. I speak from anecdotal observations. I know that when I am fully engaged in my life - in pursuing my interests, in spending time with my family and friends, in attending meetings or worshiping in church - in all the myriad activities that keep me busy, even the mundane ones like washing the dishes and doing laundry, I feel so alive that I have no attention leftover to apply to fostering resentment.

Another way to say this is that I have no need for feelings of resentment when I am feeling worthy and valued, because what I do matters to me and to others. So, maybe, as it has been said by critics of our online and computer-based time consuming activities, I should lay off Mahjongg and Sudoku whenever I begin to feel resentful about my mother or anyone or anything else in my life, and get up and tackle my clutter. And surely, my observations reaffirm for me why it is important to acknowledge and thank people for what they do, because it all matters, it all counts, no matter how small the contribution. It is all gift, and your gift of a "thank you" or a compliment to another just might be the antidote to that person's feelings of resentment. Think about it.

"Bucket Lists"

My husband, Herb, and I were discussing “bucket lists” tonight over dinner. There is a 2007 film starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson by the name of “The Bucket List” in which two terminally ill cancer patients jointly run away from their cancer ward to do all the things they’ve always wanted to do before “they kick the bucket.”

At ages 70 and 60 respectively, Herb and I have entered the season in our lives when friends and acquaintances die, and we have occasion to reflect on what we know of their lives and also of their deaths. In addition to keeping a supply of birthday and thank you cards on hand, I find myself replenishing a supply of sympathy cards regularly.

As so often happens when a married couple like us, who have known each other for a very long time, in our case, thirty years, begin to talk about others, invariably the conversation turns to talking about ourselves. I pointed out to Herb that I cannot think of anything that I have always wanted to do that I haven’t already done or would feel regret over if I came to the end of my days and learned that I hadn’t done it. Herb did not hesitate to say that he feels the same way.

A very wise friend and priest said to me recently that her advice to terminally ill people is “to have no regrets.” I think that advice applies in a number of areas, not just to achieving goals such as taking the dream vacation, trying a sport or hobby, buying the long desired extravagant gift for one’s self, or eating the perfect meal in the perfect location.

Having no regrets is also about reconciliation of relationships. The most obvious admonition is to make amends, reconnecting with loved ones and repairing broken friendships, asking for forgiveness and asking for another chance. Making amends is a biggie, and we tend to do biggies pretty well when we set our focus and pay attention.

Having no regrets is good advice, as far as it goes. I think it’s important to go further and make a commitment to finding contentment. Finding contentment is an antidote to having no regrets. Recommendations for finding contentment fall into two significant categories: being present and choosing well. Compared to making amends, these are smaller, less momentous, items, which are actually much harder to do, because the things that tip the balance for them are also much smaller – smaller distractions, smaller avoidances, smaller excuses – when taken individually. The problem is that we don’t take them individually, but we aggregate them serially, one small distraction following one small avoidance followed by one small excuse, repeatedly.

If you watch infants and toddlers as they learn new activities, you’ll notice the intense concentration, persistence and repetition in which they engage until they master the task, and then their countenances break out in smiles, giggles and pure joy. There is a simplicity to that joy. It is centered in the moment or series of moments, each task focused upon and achieved, with all the other distractions of the world set aside in the moment.

St. Anselm talks about God as “supremely simple,” not a composite thing that is made up of or dependent upon parts. God is both supremely simple and the supreme unity. As humankind becomes reconciled with God, we are called into that supremely simple nature, which seems to me to be expressed by what we describe as “being present.” In being present we do exhibit in a very real sense a unity of and with the moment in that we inhabit the moment fully.

As adults, those of us who have experienced the sense of unity in a moment can point to examples such as a mother gazing into the eyes of her infant, a couple sharing mutual sexual orgasm, and athletes as they enter the water in a perfect high dive. In those moments, nothing else exists for us except everything that is contained in unity in the moment.

Choosing well begins with choosing whom we love, including the choice to love God. Broken relationships is as much about choosing well those with whom we have intimate relationships as it is about making good choices around boundaries, ethics and morals. In the simplest terms, I would suggest that it’s like choosing “10’s” every chance one gets versus settling for less than “10’s.” For example, why waste calories on eating a crummy tasting piece of chocolate when one can choose to eat a divine piece of artisan chocolate?

And if a “10” is not available, with only “not-10’s” being offered, wouldn’t another choice be “not 10 and not not-10”? Our Western style of thinking tends to couch everything we think about in binary terms: either-or, black or white, yes or no. What if we were to expand our thinking beyond binary terms, to 1) black, 2) white or 3) not black/not white? What if the choices before an end stage renal failure patient were 1) transplant, 2) dialysis or 3) not transplant/not dialysis? Is is possible that having that third choice could represent a better way of choosing?

So, I’m not going to be writing a “bucket list.” What about you?

(I want to acknowledge here that I write in the context of these United States where we live in a culture of privilege in every sense of the word. I know that choice exists in a very different paradigm in other parts of the world.)

Leaders as Great Gift Givers

In this season of reflection, I have been thinking continuously about the part I play in the dramas of my life. Being a leader would be easy if I didn’t care so much for doing right by the people with whom I interact. I watch television dramas with overbearing bosses and larger than life characters, and I know that I can’t emulate those leadership styles anymore. When I was younger, first starting out as a manager and bank officer, I thought that the goal was the acquisition and wielding of power. Now I know the goal is much more important than what passes for power and more complex than gaining acquiescence to my schemes.

There is a great difference between leading people where they willingly desire to go and coercing people into following the leader’s mandated path. Many years ago I read a book entitled "Son Rise" by Barry Neil Kaufman about his then-five year old autistic son. Kaufman, through his experiences in trying to reach his son and lead his son back into relationship with the rest of the family, learned to define love as “desiring to be with.” In my reflections on leadership, I think that a true leader is someone who gains the trust and concurrence of people so that they “desire to be with” or to follow the leader.

The exercise of leadership could be analogized by gift giving. I know a very dear person who loves broadly and generously and would help a friend in need without hesitation, but he doesn’t get very high marks as a gift giver. So often his selection of gifts falls short of what would bring real joy to the recipient. The gifts selected do not lack for expense or special qualities, nor for lack of time, trouble and care in their selection. So, what’s the problem? It’s really quite simple. They’re not the gifts that the recipients desire to be given.

A great gift giver pays close attention to the desires of the gift recipient. Observing his interests, how he spends his own time and money, and listening to the energy in his voice when he talks about his passions, that’s how the gift giver knows how to make a gift selection. A poor gift giver makes assumptions about what the gift recipient wants, frequently projecting her own interests and desires onto the recipient, choosing gifts that turn her on, but leave the recipient flat.

Leadership that attempts to lead where people don’t want to go, to achieve successes that people don’t have any energy on achieving, is failed leadership. At its most benign expression, such leadership is ineffective and irrelevant, and people simply ignore the messages of such leaders. At its worst, such leadership equates to dictatorship, being a control freak, in which case people spend inordinate amounts of time, resources and energy plotting to circumvent and resist such leaders.  

Too often, there is a mistaken understanding of leadership, that it somehow equates with good management. Contrary to what many so-called leaders think, leadership is not about promoting one’s own agenda, but rather about helping people to live into their own best and true selves around a shared, community-based agenda.  A leader inspires and helps people to focus energy on their own motivations around the shared agenda while a manager guides the tactics to accomplish the phases of a strategic plan.

Persons in leadership roles walk a very fine line between helping groups to identify a shared agenda and projecting their own agenda in the mistaken belief that it reflects the group’s shared agenda. The former is an organic give and take process, that doesn’t conform to any linear timeline or plan; it is by definition messy. The latter tends to feel like a struggle on everyone’s part: the leader feels frustrated that “they” just don’t get it, the group feels manipulated, and there is a lot of push-pull activity and tension.

My reflections have brought me to an awareness that I have been engaged in leadership from the sidelines of the mistaken variety. I recognize a need for me to pull back, to step aside and to allow the give and take to happen without my interference. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I don’t have some important gifts to offer to the process. What I am saying is that I need to stop being part of the drama and start being a non-anxious presence that holds light rather than power in my metaphorical hands. Much, much easier said than done, but well worth trying for.