Monthly Archives: August 2011

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Shift Happens… at Tiny Church

The lectionary texts for the early fall come from Exodus, so we’re sticking with that story for several weeks and making a series out of it: Shift Happens: Faith at the Speed of Change. Our church’s transformation team thought it would be a good opportunity to introduce some of the stuff that they’ve been learning in their training. The goal is also pastoral: life is always changing. Some changes are positive, some are negative; some are sought after, some are foisted upon us. All can be stressful. All can knock us off balance.

And when it comes to change, Exodus has got it all: radical change (leave Egypt tonight!), gradual change (now wander for forty years), anxiety and resistance (there’s no food! and the food’s no good!), a desire to go back to the familiar (we were better off as slaves), and the need for mature leaders and companions in the midst of it all (Moses… well, he does the best he can. And Aaron kinda screws the pooch with that golden calf thing).

One of the members of our team says that our greatest challenge as a congregation is our tendency to be complacent. The church was blessed with a long-time pastor before I arrived—almost 30 years. That relationship brings with it incredible gifts. And a challenge: it’s really easy to get nice and comfortable. Relationships are vital in ministry, but the cultural landscape is changing too fast for that kind of cozy comfort. Complacency is a luxury we can’t afford if we want to be faithful to the gospel. Former U.S. Army Chief of Staff (and current Secretary of the VA) Eric Shinseki has said, “If you don’t like change, you’re going to like irrelevancy even less.” The Christian faith is headed to that point. (Others might say: look behind you.)

So this week it’s the story of the first passover. When I got together with a group of folks at Tiny Church to study the scripture and plan the series, they were befuddled by the instructions God gives here: Hey, I’m going to free you tonight, but it’s going to involve the slaughter of a whole lot of Egyptian people. Now, here’s a recipe for roast lamb. Best not to improvise on it.

What is God up to here? I’ve got a few ideas that I’m kicking around for Sunday.

Should be a fun series. Of course when you start working on something, you start seeing related stuff all over the place. This post from Seth Godin was on point:

The warning signs of defending the status quo

When confronted with a new idea, do you:

  • Consider the cost of switching before you consider the benefits?
  • Highlight the pain to a few instead of the benefits for the many?
  • Exaggerate how good things are now in order to reduce your fear of change?
  • Undercut the credibility, authority or experience of people behind the change?
  • Grab onto the rare thing that could go wrong instead of amplifying the likely thing that will go right?
  • Focus on short-term costs instead of long-term benefits, because the short-term is more vivid for you?
  • Fight to retain benefits and status earned only through tenure and longevity?
  • Embrace an instinct to accept consistent ongoing costs instead of swallowing a one-time expense?
  • Slow implementation and decision making down instead of speeding it up?
  • Embrace sunk costs?
  • Imagine that your competition is going to be as afraid of change as you are? Even the competition that hasn’t entered the market yet and has nothing to lose…
  • Emphasize emergency preparation at the expense of a chronic and degenerative condition?
  • Compare the best of what you have now with the possible worst of what a change might bring?

Calling it out when you see it might give your team the strength to make a leap.

And away we go.

Video: How to Move a 100 Year Old Church. I don’t love the aesthetic or the message of the rock/choir piece midway through, but there is something poignant about the people leading the way. 

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Say Something Nice

I love Improv Everywhere, the New York-based “prank collective” that stages interesting things all over the city.

Here’s a link to a mission with a simple premise: two actors placed a megaphone and lectern in Union Square. Mounted on the lectern was a plaque that said: Say Something Nice.

Almost everyone who picked up the megaphone complied with that simple instruction. You can read about the mision at the link, but here’s a sampling of responses:

Say something nice today, folks.

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Could You Pass as Your Ideological Opponent?

I read with dismay this story about town hall meetings, which have gotten more contentious in recent years.

So what happened to the town hall?

…[T]he tools of citizenship and activism have changed with the advent of YouTube and new, more aggressive strategies from activist groups on both sides. Somehow, an event that was once all about listening has become all about shouting. It now counts as a defeat if one’s opponent is allowed to make a point in peace.

Incidentally, the comments prove the article’s point.

By contrast, consider the Ideological Turing Test. A group of atheists and a group of Christians were asked to answer questions anonymously (e.g. what’s your best reason for being a Christian/an atheist?). The goal was to pass themselves off as members of the other group. Through open voting, readers tried to discern whether “person #6″ was an atheist posing as a Christian or a Christian speaking as herself, and vice versa for the atheist questions.

The responses and results are fascinating and fun. I haven’t crunched all the numbers or read everything on the site, which is not scientific, it should be said. But I did note that in the atheist contest, the top three people identified as atheists were actually Christians. In other words, the Christians were able to represent the atheist point of view well enough to fool the audience.

I’m not sure what to make of that. My initial thought is that doubt in God is actually a component of religious faith, not the antithesis to it, so it’s not hard for a self-reflective Christian to put on that point of view. Or maybe we just fake sincerity really well? (It’s a joke. No pile-ons.) There were also atheists that were able to “pass” as Christian, but not as many as the other way around. But numbers aside… what a cool experiment.

Adam Hamilton, a pastor whom I admire greatly, did a sermon series several years ago on world religions. The purpose was to build respect and see what Christians could learn from other forms of religious piety. He interviewed interfaith leaders in his community and even included video of these leaders in the service. He said his goal was not to build a straw man to knock down, but to represent the other religion’s point of view so accurately that those religious leaders could sit in the front row of his church and say, Yes, that is who we are.

It’s the Atticus Finch thing: ”You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view – until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” I do that sometimes as an intellectual exercise, when I hear something on the news that really ticks me off: What might lead a person to come to that conclusion? But it’s hard work, and I don’t do it enough.

We don’t do it enough.

But we could. And the world would be a thousand times better place.

Fewer Angry McShoutertons, please.

More Adam Hamiltons and Ideological Turing Tests.

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footnote: the original turing test

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Friday Link Love

Tonight we celebrate Robert’s birthday with a trip to the Arlington Drafthouse to see this guy:

Wyatt Cenac

We’re pretty psyched.

In the meantime, here are some links to keep you busy:

Don’t Give Up: The Inspirational Letters Project

The eternal truth of a lot of creative work: 3% of the time you are on fire, and 97% of the time is a messy slog. The key: persist, despite all the difficulties…

These are letters from animators at Pixar and elsewhere to an aspiring animator… the response prompted him to start a spinoff called the Inspirational Letters Project. As you would expect, they are visually interesting.

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King’s God: The Unknown Faith of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

King denied the ontological divinity of Jesus, didn’t think heaven/hell were literal places, saw the Bible as myth, rejected the bodily resurrection of Jesus (beginning at the age of 13), rejected original sin, and more. In other words, a liberal theologian.

On that topic, I’m sympathetic with James McGrath, who laments that many of the “new atheists” are putting forth criticisms of Christianity and the Bible as if they are new and original, when in fact many theologians have been saying similar stuff for centuries, including MLK, it would seem. (I also note that the comments on McGrath’s post are largely substantive and respectful. Kudos to him.)

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Don’t Just Do Something: Stand There

 

Numerous writers, artists, poets and musicians have testified to the virtues of such idleness in their own creative lives. It was when he was completely alone, Mozart wrote in a letter, “say traveling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when [he] could not sleep,” that his ideas flowed best and most abundantly…

Such testimony is not just plain good sense; it is good science too. In a recent article in Discover magazine, the journalist Stephen Johnson reported on a conversation with neuroscientist Antonio Damasio. The cognitive part of our brain works very fast, Damasio explained. “So you can do a lot of reasoning, a lot of recognition of objects, remembering names in just a few hundredths of a second.” But the emotional part of our brains works very differently, and there is precious little evidence that this is going to change. Tasks that have to do with empathy and imagination, with slow-growing qualities like love and fidelity and ethics, will continue to develop in their own sweet time.

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Kurt Andersen: Our Politics Are Sick

I love Kurt Andersen’s Studio 360; it’s one of my favorite podcasts. “Creativity, pop culture and the arts”: what’s not to love?

He nails this metaphor in my opinion:

The American body politic suffers from autoimmune disorders.

It’s a metaphor, but it’s not a joke. I’ve read a lot about autoimmune diseases — the literal, medical kinds, also disconcertingly on the rise — because several members of my family have them. At some point, our bodies’ own immune systems went nuts, mistaking healthy pieces of our anatomies — a pancreas, a thyroid, a joint — for foreign tissue, dangerous enemies within, and proceeded to attack and try to destroy them. It’s as close to tragedy as biology gets.

Which is pretty much exactly what’s been happening the last decade in our politics. The Truthers decided the U.S. government was behind 9/11. Others decided our black president is definitely foreign-born and Muslim. Tea Party Republicans are convinced his administration is crypto-socialist and/or proto-fascist. The anti-Shariah people are terrified of the nonexistent threat of Islamic law infecting American jurisprudence. It’s now considered reasonable to regard organs and limbs of the federal government — the E.P.A., the education department, the Federal Reserve — as tumors that must be removed. Taxation itself is now considered a parasitic pathogen rather than a crucial part of our social organism.

Brill.

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The Procrastination Flowchart

I resemble that.

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And finally, Steve Job’s 2005 Commencement Speech to Stanford. Wise and touching. I wish him well.

 

 

 

 

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Will Apple Go Downhill? Maybe.

In his early years at Apple, before he was forced out in 1985, Mr. Jobs was notoriously hands-on, meddling with details and berating colleagues. But later, first at Pixar, the computer-animation studio he co-founded, and in his second stint at Apple, he relied more on others, listening more and trusting members of his design and business teams.

In recent years, Mr. Jobs’s role at Apple has been more the corporate equivalent of “an unusually gifted and brilliant orchestra conductor,” said Michael Hawley, a professional pianist and computer scientist who worked for Mr. Jobs and has known him for years. “Steve has done a great job of recruiting a broad and deep talent base.”

…[But] it is by no means certain, analysts say, that things will go that smoothly for Apple.

Link

One of the things pastors say to one another is that if the church falls apart after you leave, you haven’t done your job. I believe this. After all, our only job description according to scripture is to “equip the saints for ministry.” A pastor who is driven by ego or insecurity can set herself up as the savior for the congregation, and when she leaves, the congregation becomes lost.

And yet taking this view too far is not helpful. We bring unique gifts and experiences to the work we do. If, after we depart, our church hums along as if we’d never been there in the first place, does that mean we did a really good job of equipping? Or does it mean that we withheld some of our authentic selves from the people with whom we served?

After I left a previous call, there were programs I initiated that did not continue. I’ve felt guilty about that at times: maybe I didn’t do enough to share the ministry. Such self-reflection is healthy. But it’s also possible that God called me, with a specific set of unique gifts and talents, to make an impact for however long I was there, and that some of those things were dependent on what I uniquely brought to the table. It is not vain to acknowledge this.

Now the leadership looks different, so there are different things happening. Good.

The more I read and understand of leadership, the more I understand that it really is the pastor who sets the course, who risks articulating a vision, and who puts her own creativity and abilities on the line for the sake of what needs to be done. We don’t do it alone, and sometimes we do it badly. Or we don’t do it at all and end up plodding along. But that is our job. And our gifts and talents and personality are inevitably tied up in this. We talk a lot about the “pastoral role” as this thing that exists. And it does. But we are not interchangeable appliances that can be swapped out. (Maybe we should stop calling the service that welcomes us into the congregation “installations”…)

The above article says Jobs matured as a leader and learned how to find good people and call forth their gifts. So the company is likely to be fine. But let’s not pretend that CEO Jobs was simply a midwife for others’ creativity. He was the creative force behind much of Apple’s success.

Nor will it be the same company in his absence. And that’s OK.

If Apple loses some of its mojo, it doesn’t necessarily mean Steve Jobs didn’t do his job. It means that there is nobody quite like Steve Jobs.

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Capsule Review: The Year of Magical Thinking

Joan Didion, John Dunne, and their daughter Quintana, from the back cover.

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

Remember when I said my reading was rather earnest these days? This book was a case in point. My mother gave it to me in one of her book cleanouts. It’s beautifully written, raw and real. I found it hard to put down, even though it was an intense read.

Didion’s husband died of cardiac arrest at the dinner table, while their adult daughter was in the ICU battling a severe infection, which would lead to complications for a long time after. The book describes Didion’s internal journey through that experience—the muddled thinking, the irrational hope that it might not be true, the painstaking avoidance of places or situations that would trigger memories of him. (Quintana later died as well, though that’s beyond the scope of the book.)

You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. It is a refrain echoed throughout the book. I was thinking about that line yesterday as I stood in the doorway of our house while it shook. Not because I was worried or afraid, but because it gave me occasion to muse: This is how it happens sometimes. In an instant. Didion’s husband, John Dunne, died the way my father did. Sudden cardiac arrest. In both cases, help came quickly, but not quickly enough.

After the earthquake, I made a silly comment on Facebook about preferring the hurricane, lumbering up the coastline, or the tornado, with its sirens and storm chasers with video cameras. It’s not rational: hurricanes and tornadoes can be more deadly, I think, but it feels safer to know, and to prepare. Stock up provisions. No, the unhurried deathbed goodbye is better. I’m sure of it, like only a person whose worst loss was a sudden one can be sure.

This book would be vital for people who care for folks going through grief. It’s a fascinating window onto the landscape of grief. However, I don’t intend to recommend this book for people who are dealing with fresh grief. I suspect it would seem redundant to them, unilluminating except as a “not the only one” experience. Didion’s position as a person of a certain socioeconomic status might also be grating for people who are not only dealing with the death of a loved one, but also the aftershocks of ongoing medical bills, the impact of the loss of the deceased’s income, and the like. (There is never even a whiff of angst over the cost of Quintana’s care, which must have been considerable.) On the other hand, Didion’s story shows that personal tragedy does not discriminate.

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Move Over Mitch: Sam Bee Gets It

Does that kid look just like Jason Jones or what?!

It’s my first day back to work after last week’s ultra-fun but ultra-tiring staycation with the kids. So it was great timing to read this hilarious piece my Samantha Bee. (Thank you Casey.)

Oddly enough, it has a very similar message, with none of the plaintive, child-free cluelessness, as Mitch Albom’s call for someone to please think of the children! Which I railed on here and here.

Take it away Sam:

Let’s be clear about something: I love my children more than life itself, and I would happily lay down my life or yours for them, as required. And I am a “tiger mother” of sorts; except that in my case, I’m the tiger who lays there helplessly in the sun as her tiger babies climb all over her, tugging on her fur and generally having their way with her. It’s summer vacation with the kids again, and I am in full “weary tiger” mode.

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I just don’t have any more energy to dig in and renovate my children into super-intelligent reading cyborgs for the first day of school. I can’t do any more rainy day activities with dry oatmeal in a cardboard box. I simply will not sing the “Fruit Salad Salsa” even one more time; if the children can’t get behind Neil Young that’s their problem until school starts up again. And my stern warnings have become completely senseless; “I’m warning you—if you don’t eat all your Gummy Worms you’re not getting any Sour Patch Kids! I am tired of wasting all this good candy!”

Frankly, from now until September the only learning we will be engaging in will be movie-based. I plan to let them watch “Star Wars,” and will continue to play it in a constant loop until they can imaginatively explain to me what it might feel like to “make the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs.” It’s all I can do to stave off the pandemonium that could be.

More at the link. And God bless you Samantha Bee… from one weary tiger to another.

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World War Z: Capsule Review

World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks

I gave Robert this book for Father’s Day at the suggestion of a friend, then picked it up myself last week because all my current books were too earnest for my current mood. Needed a little escapist fluff and it was handy.

This is my first (and probably only) experience with the zombie genre. It was a fun read, immersive and smart. Brooks tells the story of the zombie war through interviews with people from all over the world. Their tales were  terrifying, amusing, wry, and heartbreaking. Brooks does his homework, and his descriptions of how the war would have looked from different vantage points (a childhood survivor of Hiroshima, a teenage girl whose family fled to the northern part of Canada, an astronaut trapped on the International Space Station) were convincing. I wished the voices of the “interviewees” had been more distinct from one another, but the format and details painted a vivid picture. I found myself wondering “What would I do?”

The movie will star Brad Pitt.

I’m fascinated by the fact that zombie fiction is so hot right now. What’s that about, do you think? I suspect it’s our lack of a clear-cut “enemy” anymore (post-Cold War) combined with the simmering fear over al Qaeda bogeymen that, like zombies, can pop up WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT CNN BREAKING NEWS TUNE IN FOR THE LATEST!!!!!!!

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Friday Link Love: Grade Inflation in Colleges

Just one today—and not food related! Linked from Andrew Sullivan’s blog:

From C's to A's
Created by: Masters Degree

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I entered college more than 20 years ago but the trend was supposedly underway. There were still more B’s given than A’s at that point.

I am naturally skeptical of “ain’t it awful” and “get off my lawn” arguments… though I admit some of these stats are worth some analysis. Others seem pretty weak (college presidents’ perceptions of preparedness may be accurate, but at the very least, they need to be taken with a grain of salt).

Discuss…

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Flying Biscuits… Or At Least, Hovering Ones

One of Robert’s and my favorite breakfast places while I was at Columbia Seminary was the Flying Biscuit Cafe, home of—what else?—flying biscuits. These are cream biscuits, with a rich, slightly sweet flavor and a tender crumb. I recently went on a search for a copycat recipe, and this is what I found. I can’t say they flew, but they definitely got off the ground and hovered over our kitchen before being devoured within a matter of hours.

3 cups all purpose flour (a soft winter wheat flour, like White Lily, is best)
1 tablespoon plus 1½ teaspoon baking powder
¾ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoon plus 1½ teaspoon sugar
6 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature
⅔ cup heavy cream
⅔ cup half and half for brushing on top of biscuits
1 tablespoon sugar for sprinkling on top of biscuits
Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a sheet pan with parchment paper.
  1. Place flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar in a large mixing bowl. Cut butter into ½ tablespoon-sized-bits and add to the flour. Using your fingertips or a pastry cutter, work the butter into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse meal.
  2. Make a well in the center of the flour and pour in all the heavy cream and the half and half.
  3. Stir the dry ingredients into the cream and mix with a wooden spoon until dough just begins to come together into a ball. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead 2 or 3 times to form a cohesive mass. Do not overwork the dough.
  4. Using a rolling pin, roll the dough to a 1-inch thickness. The correct thickness is the key to obtaining a stately biscuit.
  5. Dip a 2 ½ inch biscuit cutter in flour, then cut the dough. Repeat until all the dough has been cut. Scraps can be gathered together and re-rolled one more time.
  6. Place the biscuits on the prepared sheet pan, leaving about ¼ inch between them.
  7. Brush the tops of the biscuits with 1 tablespoon of half and half and sprinkle with 1 tablespoon of sugar.
  8. Bake for 20 minutes. Biscuits will be lightly browned on top and flaky in the center when done.