Do you seek refinement from community?
"Thus deceit can be a function of wanting to think of ourselves as honest persons...." - Hauerwas
This is so key to what I was trying to say last week. I think we all want to think of ourselves as honest persons but the reality of the matter is that it is likely that we deceive ourselves. The problem is, once recognized, how does this play itself out in real life in our communities?
This excerpt comes from a short book called Let Your Life Speak, by Parker Palmer (San Francisco: John Wiley & Sons, 2000) and although I don't agree with everything he says in it, this section is profound. And I do recommend the book. I hope this is a concrete example of some of the theories we've been throwing around these past few weeks.
"...I was offered the opportunity to become the president of a small educational institution. I had visited the campus; spoken with trustees, administrators, faculty, and students; and had been told that if I wanted it, the job was mine.
"Vexed as I was about vocation, I was quite certain that this was the job for me. So as is the custom in the Quaker community, I called on half a dozen trusted friends to help me discern my vocation by means of a 'clearness committee,' a process in which the group refrains from giving you advice but spends three hours asking you honest, open questions to help you discover your own inner truth. Looking back, of course, it is clear that my real intent in convening this group was not to discern anything but to brag about being offered a job I had already decided to accept.
"For a while, the questions were easy, at least for a dreamer like me: what is your vision for this institution? What is the mission in the larger society? How would you change the curriculum? How would you handle decision making? What about dealing with conflict?
"Halfway into the process, someone asked a question that sounded easier yet turned out to be very hard: 'What would you like most about being a president?'
"The simplicity of the question loosed me from my head and lowered me into my heart. I remember pondering for at least a full minute before I could respond. Then, very softly and tentatively, I started to speak: 'Well, I would not like having to give up my writing and teaching....I would not like the politics of the presidency , never knowing who your real friends are....I would not like having to glad-hand people I do not respect simply because they have money....I would not like...'
"Gently but firmly, the person who had posed the question interrupted me: 'May I remind you that I asked what you would most like?'
"I responded impatiently, 'Yes, yes, I'm working my way toward an answer." Then I resumed my sullen but honest litany: 'I would not like having to give up my summer vacations....I would not like having to wear a suit and tie all the time....I would not like...
"Once again the questioner called me back to the original question. But this time I felt compelled to give the only honest answer I possessed, an answer that came from the very bottom of my barrel, an answer that appalled even me as I spoke it.
"'Well,' said I, in the smallest voice I possess, 'I guess what I'd like most is getting my picture in the paper with the word President under it.'
"They did not laugh at all but went into a long and serious silence - a silence in which I could only sweat and inwardly groan.
"Finally my questioner broke the silence with a question that cracked all of us up - and cracked me open: 'Parker,' he said, 'can you think of an easier way to get your picture in the paper?'
"By then it was obvious, even to me, that my desire to be president had much more to do with my ego than with the ecology of my life - so obvious that when the clearness committee ended, I called the school and withdrew my name from consideration. Had I taken that job, it would have very bad for me and a disaster for the school.
"The ecological theory of life, the theory of limits, works wonderfully well with situations like this: my nature makes me unfit to be president of anything, and therefore - if I stay true to what i know about myself - I will die having avoided a fate that for me would be worse than death.
"...If I try to be or do something noble that has nothing to do with who I am, I may look good to others and to myself for a while. But [it] will eventually have consequences. I will distort myself, the other, and our relationship - and may end up doing more damage than if I had never set out to do this particular 'good.'"
Some reflections as I read this:
1) He gathered a group of people whom he trusted to ask him honest and open questions. No criticizing or judging, just simple questions. When was the last time I made myself vulnerable like that with people who loved me?
2) He was mature enough to know that it needed to be done and didn't make a major decision without consulting the community. Granted, it is a part of his theological tradition, but can I make this a regular part of my life--asking my community of believers to join me in making decisions? What are some other decisions besides a new job?
3) In the end the truth set him free. He admits that if he had taken the job he would have been in it for the wrong reasons and both parties (himself and the school) would have been worse off because of it. That admittance was probably a hard conclusion to come to but he is now able to go forward in hope and with freedom that he can make wiser decisions--that is, decisions more in line with God's will for the world.
Last week we talked about seeking refinement of our hearts from Scripture, but what about community? Do you have a group of guys you can sit down with and talk about your heart, your motivations? Will you let other guys be painfully honest with you? Why not?
This is so key to what I was trying to say last week. I think we all want to think of ourselves as honest persons but the reality of the matter is that it is likely that we deceive ourselves. The problem is, once recognized, how does this play itself out in real life in our communities?
This excerpt comes from a short book called Let Your Life Speak, by Parker Palmer (San Francisco: John Wiley & Sons, 2000) and although I don't agree with everything he says in it, this section is profound. And I do recommend the book. I hope this is a concrete example of some of the theories we've been throwing around these past few weeks.
"...I was offered the opportunity to become the president of a small educational institution. I had visited the campus; spoken with trustees, administrators, faculty, and students; and had been told that if I wanted it, the job was mine.
"Vexed as I was about vocation, I was quite certain that this was the job for me. So as is the custom in the Quaker community, I called on half a dozen trusted friends to help me discern my vocation by means of a 'clearness committee,' a process in which the group refrains from giving you advice but spends three hours asking you honest, open questions to help you discover your own inner truth. Looking back, of course, it is clear that my real intent in convening this group was not to discern anything but to brag about being offered a job I had already decided to accept.
"For a while, the questions were easy, at least for a dreamer like me: what is your vision for this institution? What is the mission in the larger society? How would you change the curriculum? How would you handle decision making? What about dealing with conflict?
"Halfway into the process, someone asked a question that sounded easier yet turned out to be very hard: 'What would you like most about being a president?'
"The simplicity of the question loosed me from my head and lowered me into my heart. I remember pondering for at least a full minute before I could respond. Then, very softly and tentatively, I started to speak: 'Well, I would not like having to give up my writing and teaching....I would not like the politics of the presidency , never knowing who your real friends are....I would not like having to glad-hand people I do not respect simply because they have money....I would not like...'
"Gently but firmly, the person who had posed the question interrupted me: 'May I remind you that I asked what you would most like?'
"I responded impatiently, 'Yes, yes, I'm working my way toward an answer." Then I resumed my sullen but honest litany: 'I would not like having to give up my summer vacations....I would not like having to wear a suit and tie all the time....I would not like...
"Once again the questioner called me back to the original question. But this time I felt compelled to give the only honest answer I possessed, an answer that came from the very bottom of my barrel, an answer that appalled even me as I spoke it.
"'Well,' said I, in the smallest voice I possess, 'I guess what I'd like most is getting my picture in the paper with the word President under it.'
"They did not laugh at all but went into a long and serious silence - a silence in which I could only sweat and inwardly groan.
"Finally my questioner broke the silence with a question that cracked all of us up - and cracked me open: 'Parker,' he said, 'can you think of an easier way to get your picture in the paper?'
"By then it was obvious, even to me, that my desire to be president had much more to do with my ego than with the ecology of my life - so obvious that when the clearness committee ended, I called the school and withdrew my name from consideration. Had I taken that job, it would have very bad for me and a disaster for the school.
"The ecological theory of life, the theory of limits, works wonderfully well with situations like this: my nature makes me unfit to be president of anything, and therefore - if I stay true to what i know about myself - I will die having avoided a fate that for me would be worse than death.
"...If I try to be or do something noble that has nothing to do with who I am, I may look good to others and to myself for a while. But [it] will eventually have consequences. I will distort myself, the other, and our relationship - and may end up doing more damage than if I had never set out to do this particular 'good.'"
Some reflections as I read this:
1) He gathered a group of people whom he trusted to ask him honest and open questions. No criticizing or judging, just simple questions. When was the last time I made myself vulnerable like that with people who loved me?
2) He was mature enough to know that it needed to be done and didn't make a major decision without consulting the community. Granted, it is a part of his theological tradition, but can I make this a regular part of my life--asking my community of believers to join me in making decisions? What are some other decisions besides a new job?
3) In the end the truth set him free. He admits that if he had taken the job he would have been in it for the wrong reasons and both parties (himself and the school) would have been worse off because of it. That admittance was probably a hard conclusion to come to but he is now able to go forward in hope and with freedom that he can make wiser decisions--that is, decisions more in line with God's will for the world.
Last week we talked about seeking refinement of our hearts from Scripture, but what about community? Do you have a group of guys you can sit down with and talk about your heart, your motivations? Will you let other guys be painfully honest with you? Why not?
posted by The Dude at 1:58 AM
5 Comments:
I think community is absolutely crucial mainly because, as has been discussed last week, our own hearts are inherently evil and, left to our own ways, the slippery slope of self-rationalization or justification is one that most of us usually don't recover from, or even realize we're on, until it's too late.
That being said, I think authentic community fails to materialize for a number of reasons. My initial thought was that pride is a dominant obstacle, but upon more thinking, I believe pride is more a manifestation of fear and purposeful ignorance. We (and I specifically) fear that those who know me at a deeper level - the sin, shame, etc. - will think lesser of me and no longer want to associate with me. And, in a different sense, I fear that those who can be genuinely honest with me will eventually uncover deep flaws within me that I know are there but have spent years trying to cover up and ignore. In other words, this second type of fear results in me designing an environment (the lack of community) where I know my imperfections won't be surfaced by another and, in a twisted and flawed logic, believe that I won't have to deal with it.
I also think the availability of authentic community is subject to the same arguments as above. Most guys, even (or especially) within the Church, would rather not plug too deeply into someone else's life because of fear, laziness, disinterest, selfishness, etc. It is much easier and far less threatening to grab a beer with a friend, roommate, even father, and talk about fishing, sports, jobs, and anything else besides matters of the heart. By keeping relationships at a superficial level, a low level of risk is incurred, but consequently and sadly, only a low level of return is made possible. I think this "low return" concept is the the portion that's often left out of people's rationalization for not wanting to be vulnerable with others. Intimacy and authenticy are traded for comfort and facades because we concentrate too much on the short term and fail to visualize the possibilities of the longer-term rewards.
Man, Adrian, I couldn't agree more. I love your thoughts on "low return." Our pastor says that breathing isn't living. We were created to enjoy abundant life and that only comes through the Gospel. And a central tenet of the Gospel is community. So two questions:
1) What can we do about our contribution to the failure of authentic community? It's nice to know the theoretical, to understand the heart/motivation behind our avoidance of community, but are we doing anything about it? Shame on us if we are just reading/writing about community and not sitting down with other guys for coffee/dinner/baseball (I had to throw baseball in there).
2) What do we do if guys we know and love are avoiding community? If you are actively seeking community yourself but can't convince other people of the need for honest, open self-examination, what do you do? This is something I have and continue to struggle with myself...
I never understood why we view the Bible as a "magical book", but yet don't put priority on community. As weird as this may sound, I think time in the Word has been overvalued to a point to the detriment of other things like prayer, meditation and community. In my personal experience, I've grown much through studying the Bible, but I've felt such a great growth in Home Group and in meditation. But the question is this: If we can't spend more than 30 mins in the Word per day, how do we expect to do the other things?
And Matt, watching the Astros is torture. Don't do it to yourself. If you want community, come watch the Rangers with us.
Scripture should be read, interpreted, and applied in community. You can't separate the two. Well you can...and we do...but we shouldn't.
When was the last World Series the Rangers were in?
I agree. And to clarify, I am not saying the Bible is to be ignored, or to take a backseat to community at all. I think that the Bible is viewed by many as the magical, be-all, end-all - that it's all you need - that it's the only/primary way to engage God. I think that's unfortunate and inaccurate. I think all modes should be practiced because they're all important. God speaks to us, teaches us, and engages us outside of Scripture, too. Think of all the years in history where Christians didn't have a copy of the
Scriptures. Community and prayer/meditation were essential. I think we've lost that.
OT: We got Sammy now. Yikes!
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