Tuesday, April 29, 2014

 

Arsonists of the Heart

In one of his Easter poems, John Shea has the following line:

And in the breaking of the bread
                   they knew the impostor for who he was -
                   the arsonist of the heart.

This references the Easter story of the two disciples on their way to Emmaus. They bump into a stranger who joins them for supper when they arrive at their evening destination. During the meal they recognize him for who he is, the Risen Jesus. But what is most interesting is the way they describe their encounter with him: “were not our hearts burning with fire, when he spoke to us on the road?” Long before they actually knew who he was, they had a particular experience which served as a harbinger of things to come. Simply talking to this man left them changed, with their hearts on fire.

Even lesser figures in history were known to impact the people they came into contact with: Bill Clinton has, by all accounts, an amazing presence which leaves you speechless; mother Theresa, though small and sometimes gruff, invariably touched a nerve in people, so much so that many wanted to join her in her mission. And I recently had the opportunity to see Gideon Kremer live: he is a world famous violinist and gave an interview at the end of one of his concerts. His manner is very quiet, almost hushed, but his enthusiasm for music leaves you breathless, as the long conversation proved which I had with my friends once we left the concert hall. Our hearts were on fire.

What point am I trying to make? Surely not every human encounter can be life-changing, but what is people’s experience when they spend time with us? Boredom, because we have nothing meaningful to say? Or worse, negativity, because we complain about our circumstances or about other people? Or are they energized, fired up, enlightened. I know this is a high bar to clear, but what would happen if we made lighting fires the goal of all human encounters? Arsonists of the heart everywhere, and people catching vision, energy, encouragement…quite a dream, no?


Saturday, April 12, 2014

 

The gift of quitting


The Catholic Church has a number of criteria before it nominates somebody an official saint: miracles do help, but if you started a religious community, this also counts as a miracle. So people often speak of the charism of a founder, the gift of getting something started. What I feel is missing, in the Catholic Church and elsewhere, is the charism of quitting and shutting down. Have you ever been in institutions, organizations or personal situations and wondered: “What are we doing here? This is going nowhere!” The fact of the matter is that it sometimes almost feels easier to start something than to kill it; at least once an initiative, project or organization has reached a certain maturity and has established a track record of doing good. As a result organisations linger on, way past their sell-by date, in a semi-vegetative state, without real drive or perspective, too sick to live and too healthy to die  on its own. I am sure we can all think of examples.

Why does it seem so difficult to quit? Two publications have recently addressed this phenomenon. Seth Godin, the prolific business author, has a book called “The Dip- a little book that teaches you when to quit”. He points out that we need to learn to distinguish whether we are in a dip or in a cul-de-sac. The former is the phase between initial enthusiasm and complete mastery: dips occur when you learn a language, take up the saxophone or start a business. Many people quit right there, and the dip is the chasm that separates the men from the boys (for some reason separating the women from the girls does not have the same ring!). So if you are in a dip, you need to decide whether you really want this, and if the answer is yes, power on.

But if you are in a cul-de-sac, a dead-end, you need to quit, and quit fast. So why don’t we do that more often? The reasons are as varied as the people involved, but a few big ones stand out: the famous “point of no return”, i.e. the notion that we have already sunk so much resource into the project that it would be a shame to quit. As a result Sally goes on with med school and becomes a sad doctor, simply because she already amassed $ 150 000 of debt. Then there is the respect for tradition: people have been mining coal in this town for the past 500 years, so who are we to break with tradition, even if this industry is no longer profitable. And finally we find good old-fashioned pride: we don’t want to look like quitters, and so we soldier on. Thousands of lives have been sacrificed at the altar of pride, with generals not wanting to admit defeat. And many careers are going nowhere for the very same reason.
 
The German equivalent of “Business Week” devoted its November 2013 issue to “Quitting”. It showcased stories as varied as IBM selling its PC division and successful bankers quitting their jobs in order to start a social venture. Their point wasn’t that quitting was always laudable; there is such a thing as the virtue of perseverance. But they wanted to remove the stigma from throwing in the towel and show that sometimes the good is the enemy of the best, and you won’t really become the best until you quit what you are doing.


As this season of Lent draws to an end, many of us can’t wait to stop quitting: we have been missing chocolate, TV, booze, sex, whatever. But maybe it’s time you quit something permanently: a job, a hobby, an occupation, a service, a responsibility. Not if you are in a dip, of course. But if you “know in your knower” that this is not going anywhere, get out. Suggest a shut down. Walk out. And you might become a saint someday.

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