Cultural Ballast

In a large ship, ballast is the stuff (usually water) loaded into the very bottom of the ship intended to provide balance and stability. Ballast can be taken on (to make the vessel more resistant to outside conditions) or disposed of (to make the ship more responsive).

As our culture steams ahead into the future, it is worthwhile to consider: what is our cultural ballast? That is, what have we picked up along the way (in the name of stability) that is making us less responsive to the demands of our time?

We can let go, individually and as a culture, of the things that hold us back. Ballast provides stability, but if stability is not what our times call for (or if it is an illusion) we do well to eliminate it.

One more related point. Biologically, discharged ballast water can have unintended consequences. For example, in 1991, zebra mussels hitched a ride in the ballast water of a cargo ship headed to New York, were released in the Hudson River, and began to dominate its ecosystem.

So, when we eliminate something we need to let go of, how can we do so in a way that avoids harmful, unintended consequences?

Improv and Contribution

When I was learning to program, each exercise was done in pairs.  One person had hands on the keyboard, while the other person narrated what to type next based on their vision of how to solve the problem at hand.

This is hard.  Like, extremely hard.  For a bunch of big reasons.  Chief among these reasons is the analysis each person does of the other.  I do not understand where this is heading.  Does this person have any idea what they are doing?

But, of course, learning to confront the analysis that breaks down communication was a major objective of the exercise.  To help us with this objective, the school organized an “intro to improv comedy” class for us.  

The parts of the improv session that were actually funny happened when we were able to tune into another person and respond generously and whimsically.  The point was to follow another’s lead without hyper-analysis.  Indeed, we were to replace analysis with cognitive empathy and lightheartedness.

As we consider the present (and future) of our church and world, it is worth it to realize that we make the road by walking.  Much of this road will be improvisation.  Let’s tune into each other and respond with generosity and lightheartedness. 

Honey Whole Wheat

My first job was in a bakery.  When it opened, my boss (the head baker) only baked and sold one type of bread, Honey Whole Wheat.  The franchise that he was part of mandated this constraint which, I think, lasted the whole first year.  The idea was that he should focus on the fundamentals of baking before expanding the business and branching out with more complex recipes.

What is the Honey Whole Wheat of the spiritual life?  That fundamental practice that is the foundation for everything else?  

It may be the capacity to sit, in silence, with our own interiority. To be present to our own thoughts and feelings and witnessing them clearly without layering on narrative. 

This is the place where love, where artful living can begin, and may, in fact, be the Honey Whole Wheat of being human.

Lead from Any Chair

I love the current pediatrician office that cares for our sons.  The doctors are fine, but what really is exemplary is the front desk staff.  They are attentive amid (occasional) chaos, curious even when fatigued, and actually solve a remarkable number of problems without bringing families into the office to see a doctor.  In an important way, the folks answering the phones are leading the practice.

I’ve heard that, while playing in an orchestra, one might “lead from any chair.”  That is, whether I am the conductor, violin soloist, second oboe, or the guy playing that huge drum, I am able, through my actions, to lead. 

What would the church be like if we realized any of us could lead from any chair?  This is, in part, what I think Pope Francis is asking us to consider during the current Synod on Synodality.  (Check out the questions 40% of the way down the page of the Synod Survey of our diocese.)

Labels are Lazy

When we use a label to comprehend a person, we trade encounter for ease. That is, we substitute lazy thinking for actually approaching the reality of a person.

This is true (whether we admit it or not) even for the labels that we give ourselves a pass on.

It is true that, as we communicate, it is extremely difficult to avoid labels entirely. If and when we do use them, though, let’s be dissatisfied with them, and use this dissatisfaction to tip us toward curious encounter.

React or Respond (or Initiate and Weave)

When we react, we respond impulsively. We might experience a momentary catharsis, but also, in all likelihood, we make the situation worse.

We respond from our generosity. We perceptively consider what is needed and can shepherd a positive outcome.

With both reactions and responses, though, the process started with someone or something outside of ourselves. The alternative is to initiate.

This takes courage, to begin something new. With initiative, courage, and endurance, though, we can do the important things. We can weave people together to serve the common good.

Rearranging Our Prejudices

Psychologist William James once observed that “a great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices.” The alternative to this, learning to see the world as it is, is difficult work.  But if we are to change our culture to serve the common good, it is the only place toContinue reading “Rearranging Our Prejudices”

I Am an Ass!

Anthony de Mello, SJ once ostentatiously declared in a spoken retreat that he was going to write a book entitled, “I’m an ass and you’re an ass!”*

The point he was making was that it is profoundly liberating to experience one’s own capacity to be petty, selfish, mean, or worse.  This realization frees us from our moral superiority before others and opens a world of connection.

And how right he is!  Acknowledging oneself as no better than the person we judge frees us from nasty narratives that divide us.  

*The retreat has actually been turned into the audiobook of Awareness.

The Contagion of Contempt

When we consider someone with contempt, we say that they are beneath our consideration.  Engagement with them is not worth our time.  They receive only our disgust.

And contempt is contagious; as two people pass it back and forth, it grows exponentially.  This is even more true within an in-group, a cultural echo chamber, a tribe, until contempt kills any curiosity or engagement of the other.  These days, particularly in political discussions, contempt for “those people” is on the rise.

Contempt kills our ability to communicate and work for the common good, and so interrupting the contagion of contempt is an act of courage.  This courage begins by naming clearly what we fear and getting close enough to love.