Being a big elephant: The virtue of protectiveness

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
-Edmund Burke

I recently heard an expert on bullying, Stu Cabe, address an auditorium full of high school students. He began with a story about elephants. Twenty years ago in Kruger National Park, South Africa’s largest conservation reserve, there was a serious over-population problem; too many elephants. Back then there was no cost effective way of moving the larger animals, so the decision was made to relocate the smaller elephants to another park.

Fine for the elephants, but not so much for their new neighbors, the white rhinos who over time began showing up dead. Turns out the relocated baby elephants had grown into adolescent bullies without the guidance of good role models, and the accountability that naturally follows. In their unchecked aggression, they were ramming the rhinos to death. Concerned about their steadily decreasing rhino population and the negative impact on tourism, the park figured they’d best correct the problem they’d first created years before. They rented special trucks and brought in large bull elephants to return the system to its natural state, establishing a new hierarchy. In a very short amount of time, the bigger bulls had laid down new rules for the younger elephants by modeling appropriate behavior, and physically intervening to stop the aggressive behavior when the modeling wasn’t enough. And surprise, surprise the violence stopped.

This world we live in is not unlike a wild animal reserve. There are hierarchies of power and rules of social engagement. And when proper modeling is lacking and active interventions are slow in coming, the vulnerable invariably get bullied. Why? Because human beings, when separated from a community that protects life, become small; they give in to fear, and selfishness, and violence. It’s “survival of the fittest”, and it’s ugly.

Bullying has now been identified as a major problem in schools. But of course it’s happening in schools because it’s happening everywhere else; at home, on the internet, at the office, and on the television. And finally, people are realizing that bullying doesn’t have to be physical in order to be violent. Far more damage is done with hateful words, mean-spirited alliances, and shaming actions than can ever be adequately measured.

Protectiveness as a virtue compels you to stand up for the underdog, get involved when you don’t have to, care when its not convenient, and live the belief that human rights extend beyond your own nose. And to understand how much is at stake if you don’t.

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Good men, and good women, good boys, and good girls…

Unlike the animal reserve,when it comes to virtue “big-ness” isn’t dependent on the size of your body, but on the size of your heart. Yes adults should naturally lead in protecting life, but the young can and must be empowered to join this struggle as well.

For the sake of the vulnerable, for the sake of humanity, be a big elephant.

Question for reflection: What can you do to become more of a big elephant?

Lighting candles: The virtue of optimism

“Better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.”
-The Christophers

You know the old saying, “You don’t fully appreciate something until it’s gone”? A few weeks ago in the midst of a fast-moving winter storm, we temporarily lost power in our home. I suddenly remembered again what a gift electricity is…electricity and light.

After some initial grumbling and stumbling around in the dark, the matches and candles were located. And soon the darkness was being pushed back. It still remained in the corners because it was night, and of course candles only have so much power. But there was enough illumination for us to carry on, to move forward.

Lighting candles in the dark is an apt metaphor for the virtue of optimism.

But to better understand what optimism is, let’s first clear up what optimism is not.

Optimism is not whistling in the darkness, pretending that things will change on their own. That is magical thinking.

Optimism is not denying the darkness and carrying on as if nothing had changed. That is delusional.

And optimism is not a desperate sales pitch that the darkness is clearly preferable to light. That is denial.

Pretending that there are no problems, no struggles, and no discomfort is distracting, anxiety-provoking, and potentially dangerous. Because goodness, and healing, and transformation are built on truth not illusion. Denying what is, only sets one up for disappointments, and eventually despair.

Optimism is about believing that there's meaning to be discovered in the midst of challenges, and options for good. And it moves one from problem-focused to solution-focused. Optimism is creative, and life-giving, and firmly grounded in reality. It has no time for falsity; too much is at stake.

“I have cancer, but I will find ways to keep living.” “I’ve lost my job, but I’ll start looking for new opportunities.” “I am unhappy with my life, but I’m going to figure out why, and then do some things differently.”

This season calls for optimism, when the world is short on light and the Spring seems very far away…this season, when so many are hurting, and scared, and confused. The economy continues to sputter, the unemployment rate remains high, people are still losing their homes, and there is no significant turn-around in sight. Cursing the darkness is a tempting option, but then what?

Optimism says light a candle, push back the darkness a bit, and find in the freedom you still have all the good choices you can still make.

And I promise, in this Advent Season, grateful prayers for all of you…especially those searching for matches and candles.

Question for reflection: How well do you seek solutions in the midst of problems?

Swimming against the tide: The virtue of contrariness

“Comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.”
-Finley Peter Dunne


I disagreed with Christopher Hitchens on virtually every subject. He routinely attacked with great vigor my God, my Church, and my favorite saint. He was unquestionably brilliant, and equally flawed. He was as polemical and pompous as any hell-fire-and-damnation preacher, and as dogmatic about his Enlightenment-inspired gospel as any fundamentalist “true believer.” So it might come as something of a surprise to hear me state that I was strangely moved by the news of his passing, and will miss him. He was one of my favorite contrarians, and he once more served me as a catalyst for deeper reflection…this time about contrariness as a virtue.

Now, to be clear there is a major difference between a virtue and a personality trait. A virtue makes you, and those around you, better. A personality trait does not. Contrariness as a virtue is prophetic, contrariness as a trait is problematic. Did Hitchens practice contrariness as a virtue or simply a trait? I’ll humbly leave that judgment, and the ultimate judgment about his life’s work, to a merciful and loving God (and yes, that’s me being a bit of a contrarian).

Contrarians attack the status quo, the comfortable, the people and systems that appear to be above challenge, and questioning, and accountability. And to that end, they serve a necessary role in a world that desperately needs checks-and-balances. We may often want to dismiss them as lunatics, radicals, and trouble-makers, but we’d best not.

The virtue of contrariness is rooted in a love for justice and truth, and will courageously attack sacred cows for the sake of the sacred. As a virtue, contrariness protects the vulnerable against abuses of power, and reminds the world that easier doesn’t necessarily mean better, and rightness is not decided by a majority opinion.

Contrarians are disturbers of the peace, but is it a peace that’s well-deserved? Contrarians are outsiders, but truth-tellers often are. Contrarians are atheists (or as Hitchens preferred “anti-theists”), but they can also be deeply religious (see: Christ, Jesus). Contrarians are hard to categorize, but in an extraordinarily complex world isn’t that appropriate?

Most of us don’t like conflict, we don’t like rocking the boat, and we definitely don’t like to be disliked. But the struggle for a better world has never been neat and tidy. And we will never become who we’re meant to be (responsible, decent, loving human beings) if we’re not willing to get outside our comfort zones, ask hard questions, wrestle with the status-quo, confront rigidity…and maybe even on occasion challenge others to do the same.

Question for reflection: How do you challenge hypocrisy, double standards, and injustices in the world and in your home?

Golden: The virtue of fidelity

“Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity. Faithfulness and truth are the most sacred excellences and endowments of the human mind.”
-Marcus Tullius Cicero

Fidelity is defined as “faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief,” and is stated formally in and through vows. It can be lived out in any calling (personal or professional), but for now I want to focus on what fidelity means in marriage.

This summer my mother and father celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. Fifty years, a half century, “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health…” They’ve honored and kept their vows to each other. This is a remarkable accomplishment, and I do mean accomplishment. My mother was barely twenty when she said “I do” to my father, and he was all of twenty-two when he promised himself to her in return. They were kids, for goodness sake!

There’s no way my parents could have known exactly what those wedding vows would entail, what would be asked of each; the twists and turns of life, children and grandchildren, changes and transitions, triumphs and losses, joys and sorrows. Yet, they have lived the virtue of fidelity.

“I promise…to love, honor, and respect you…to be faithful to you.” Wedding vows are oriented toward the other, and this is understandable. But I believe it also confuses fidelity. Because essentially, fidelity is not about your partner…it’s about you.

Fidelity is not a 50-50 proposition, and it’s not even a 100-100 proposition. Fidelity isn’t conditioned on the other person's behavior at all. “I solemnly promise to be faithful to you…because it is who I’m meant to be, and what I’ve promised to do. I’m all in.”

Fidelity is most personal…it’s covenent, not contract. Nothing wrong with contracts, even necessary in issues of business. But they’re not the way to frame relationships, and they’re certainly not the way to frame fidelity. Quid pro quo, “I’ll do this if you’ll do that,” doesn’t work for fidelity. In fact it guts it.

So, then, fidelity is a straight-jacket, a commitment that locks you into a relationship forever, regardless of circumstances? However bad, painful or even abusive things might get, you’ve got to stay? NO, NO, NO! A virtue would never take you in a direction that asked you to compromise your dignity or your self-worth. Virtues make you and those around you better, not sicker.

What fidelity does challenge you to do is to consciously, courageously, creatively commit to something bigger than you or your partner, something that is worth living for and struggling for…whether your partner does or not. It challenges you to fight against a quitting culture that fails to see how self-sacrifice may actually lead to greater empowerment, greater self-esteem, and greater freedom. And if the relationship does end, fidelity guarantees that it will not be because you compromised yourself.

Fidelity is not just a way of being in marriage, it’s a way of being in life. It also happens to be my parents greatest gift to me. And I am grateful beyond words.

Question for reflection: Where do you practice fidelity, faithfulness to something bigger than you?

Sit down and listen: The virtue of communication

"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."
-Winston Churchill

The consistent gridlock on Capital Hill, the egoizing of the NBA Players Lockout, the frustration of Occupy Wall Street and Elsewhere, the anger of Union strife; the news is full of communication breakdown. Everyone wants to be listened to, but few seem to be just as committed to listening. It’s wearying, truly.

The dissent? No, disagreeing is not the problem. EVERY system needs challenge and confrontation, both from within and from without. Families need it, schools need it, companies need it, churches need it, and governments need it. It keeps us open, and accountable, and vital, and attuned to the heartbeat of what is most true.

So people who are willing to stand up and speak, especially when what they have to say is not going to meet with ready approval are necessary. But communication is about more than speaking.

True communication is about talking AND listening. And if, as the experts say, 70% of communication is non-verbal, are you attending to more than just words in your conversations? What are the “roll of the eyes,” the “check of the watch,” the “shake of the head,” the “quick text”, and the “not-so-subtle yawn” saying to you?

In your own efforts to be seen, to be heard, to be right, what are you not hearing? Because of fear, or pride, or impatience, or all of the above, what are you missing? What do you NEED to hear from your partner, or parent, or child...from friend or "foe"? What are the difficult conversations that need to happen in your world?

Real communication, in the end, is about seeking understanding before agreement. And this can’t be done if you’re not willing to stand up and speak…and then sit down and listen. But as Churchill points out, it takes courage…because you may hear something you don’t want to hear, you may learn something about yourself that needs addressing, you may learn that you don’t know as much as you thought, your comfort zone might get stretched, and you may on occasion even get your head handed to you. O.K., and you might also grow, heal, bond, love, make the world a better place, and even find some peace along the way.

Peace through confrontation? Now you’re talking….and listening!

Question for reflection: How well do you communicate?

Living Thank-You's

"Gratitude is a sickness suffered by dogs.”
-Joseph Stalin

"A man's indebtedness is not virtue; his repayment is. Virtue begins when he dedicates himself actively to the job of gratitude."
-Ruth Benedict

As a child, Ioseb Jughasvili was routinely beaten by his alcoholic father. At seven years-old he contracted smallpox, which left his face badly scarred. By age 12, he had been in two different horse-drawn carriage accidents which resulted in his left arm being permanently disabled. He somehow found his way to the Orthodox Seminary at age 16, but was eventually dismissed because of unpaid debts to the school. After leaving seminary, he became increasingly political and ended up being sent to prison in Siberia seven times.

What happened to this emotionally, physically, and spiritually scarred man? What did he do with his immense pain, and rage, and shame? He decided that he’d spend his life gathering and keeping power, absolute power. That way, he’d never have to be beholden to anyone, never have to be vulnerable again, and never have to admit weakness or need. He even changed his last name to the Russian word for “steel” (stalin), in case someone missed the point.

So what in the name of everything good does Joseph Stalin have to do with gratitude, the virtue he considered “a sickeness suffered by dogs?” As a cautionary tale, a lot! Remember, we learn about virtues by studying life stories…and not just the happy ones. And the monsterous ways Stalin channeled his pain, hardened his heart, and learned to deny the good in himself and others should speak to all of us.

Of course you don’t need to have anything close to a Stalin-esque childhood to feel beaten up by circumstances beyond your control; betrayals, injustices, illnesses, rejections. And you also don’t have to be responsible for the deaths of tens of millions of people like Stalin in order to do significant harm with your suffering.

Life is difficult, and pain is built in to human existence…always has been, and always will be. No one gets a free pass; read the paper, watch the news, look in the mirror. And this is why gratitude is so essential. It helps us return again and again to the positive, and protects us from being victims of pain, and resentment, and despair….and becoming increasingly inhuman in the process.

Gratitude is an attitude of thankfulness and appreciation for life and those who give to us, and celebrates generosity of spirit. It shares the same word stem as grace, and helps us recognize gifts and blessings in our lives, even in the most difficult times. And as we feel grateful and then act as ones who have been cared for, what we do with pain changes. This is when feeling becomes virtue.

I have been given the gift of life, and I will work to protect life.
I have been given the gift of love, and I will love as many people as I can.
I have been given the gift of talents, and I will use my talents to make the world better.
I have been given the gift of forgiveness, and I will forgive those who hurt me.
I have been given the gift of freedom, and I will use my freedom to set others free.

Gratitude is not just about saying thank you, it’s about living thank you.

Question for reflection: What are you doing with the gifts you’ve been given?

The "wow" factor

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”
-Albert Einstein


Several years ago I was asked to be the guest on a cable television show with a viewership of several million. Really. The Journey Home is a show on EWTN, a cable television network beamed around the world. So, after picking myself off the ground I agreed to fly to Alabama and talk about my faith journey.

In the weeks leading up to my t.v. debut, I found myself imagining this to be my big break. People would like me, want to buy my books, and invite me to come and speak at their churches, schools, and retreat centers. This was going to be very good for business.

I flew to Alabama, taped the show, felt great about the hour long interview, believed I was engaging and charismatic enough, and came home ready for my career to surge to new heights.

And I waited, and waited, and waited.

True, I sold a few books, got some phone calls from folks who saw the show, and received a complimentary letter from the host and producer of the program thanking me for my effort. But my television experience was hardly a professional game-changer.

I admit, I was disappointed. I thought I knew why I was asked to go, and what would happen because of my going. I assumed, and got locked in to my assumptions. And I almost missed the real grace of the trip.

Assumptions can be very dangerous.

Three weeks after my return, I opened an email from a man I’d met in the studio, right after the taping. He had been part of the audience watching the show that night, and we’d spoken. He and I both had sons with Down syndrome. My son survived two heart surgeries, his son did not. I don’t recall saying anything more than what one father would naturally say to another about losing a child. But in the brief exchange and embrace, he was unlocked. And he wrote a simple, heartfelt message thanking me for that moment.

Surprise.

Life is so much deeper and broader than any of us can ever totally imagine; full of these kind of moments that can open us up…to meaning, and beauty, and revelation. But they are easily missed if we are not able to feel awe…and practice awe.

Awe is a recognition of, wonder about, and appreciation for mystery. And in that sense of awe, one is stirred to see and act differently.

Awe helps us explore mystery, not as a problem that needs to be solved, but a blessing that needs to be embraced. It confirms that truth and knowledge are found in “Wow” as well as “Why”, and helps us avoid letting assumptions about how things should be block the miracle of how things are…

And that is awe-some.


Question for reflection: What inspires awe in you?

A Work of Art

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”
-Confucius

Dr. Iain Hutchison is a renowned maxillo-facial surgeon operating on the faces of people who have suffered significant deformities as a result of surgeries, accidents, and attacks. And he understands well that beauty is more than skin deep. This of course is not always an easy message to sell, especially to those whose appearances often draw gawking stares, rude comments, and worse. So out of his own pocket, Hutchison commissioned portrait artist Mark Gilbert to paint the faces of his patients before, after surgery, and in some cases even during surgery. And the “Saving Faces” art project was born. The original goal was to show physical transformation, but soon Hutchison and Gilbert saw that something much more profound was happening.

As Gilbert would begin painting, the patients would become subjects; worthy of time, and attention, and care. They felt special, and as the art continued they began to talk about themselves, and what they thought and felt. Gilbert listened, and painted, and asked questions, and painted, and listened some more. And these human beings felt deeply and lovingly seen…perhaps for the first time in a very long time.

“Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it.”

Mirroring is a term first coined by psychologist Hans Kohut. It refers to the intimate experience one has of being “seen” in the reflection of another’s face. The classic example is a mother-infant interaction where baby and momma make eye contact, and baby coos and momma coos back, and a verbal and non-verbal “conversation” develops into psychological and spiritual nourishing.

Of course mirroring is not limited to infancy narratives. We all continue to need mirroring experiences throughout life, to “see” in the face of another that we matter. Our subjectivity, our uniqueness, our humanity is accepted as precious. That we are beautiful in ways that will outlast the ravages of time, and will not pass away.

It’s not easy to find someone who practices the virtue of mirroring consistently because it takes quality time, psychological presence, the desire to seek understanding over agreement, and the willingness to give without expectation of return. “I want to know you, I want to hear you, I want to see you…in order to celebrate you.”

So, then, how does this miracle happen? How can this miracle happen? One hurting person, one gentle smile, one caring question, one sincere affirmation, one blessed moment at a time. Start small and build. Trust that beauty exists in everyone, beauty that lasts…and then seek it, see it, and share it with the one who is the work of art.

It is nothing less than reconstructive surgery for the soul.

Question for reflection: Who has mirrored for you what is most beautiful about you?

Telling a thousand stories

“Grief ends when a thousand stories are told.”
-Native American saying

Jenni and I arrived in the small town of Bayeux on a late afternoon in June. And because we were still a couple of hours away from dinner time, we decided to dump the suitcases in our room and set out on a walk. Almost immediately, we came upon a sign pointing toward the British war cemetary on the outskirts of town, and we decided to pay our respects. There, just under 4,000 British soldiers are buried, having paid the ultimate price for freedom in the historic invasion of Normandy.

Making our way slowly and reverentially through the rows of tombstones we noticed a still-fresh bouquet of flowers lying on the grave of a twenty year old British soldier who had died the day of the invasion, June 6, 1944. And as we drew closer, I saw a notecard peeking out from beneath the flowers, with the slightly smudged “17 June” visible. The visitor had been there just a day before we arrived. Who would be leaving a handwritten message on a marker that was 64 years-old? My curiosity got the best of me and I gently lifted the bouquet to read the rest of the message.

“Sweetheart, I love you and always will.”

Even now as I type these words I catch my breath; the message was so simple, and so profound. Of course there is much we don’t know about this love. But we do know what matters most…that it endured. Across the years and tears, the love endured. But how?

How much time could these sweethearts have even had together? He was dead, tragically taken, before his twenty-first birthday. Yet, sixty-four years later she returned; still feeling, remembering, and sharing what they had.

Reality is so much more powerful than anything Hollywood could dream up.

Here was a remarkable witness to love…and the roll of grief well done. Love and loss are intimately connected because we live in a world that has endings unavoidably built in. But the virtue that can develop in and through the heartache allows one to experience both, and live on with grace. That’s how she could return.

Grieving is about facing the loss of someone or something precious, and growing through it by finding the love that remains, purified. We can rise above the grip of death when we rest in that which does not die.

Fine philosophy, good theology, but how does one actually, practically grieve? How does one move through sadness, and depression, and the temptation to despair…and find life in what remains?

“Grieving ends when a thousand stories are told.”

I believe grief is done best through story telling. Stop and think of all the wakes, memorial services, and funerals you’ve gone to. What, in the end, is the point? To honor the dead? Sure. But funerals, like cemetaries, are for the living much more than the dead. There, people are actually encouraged to tell stories about the one who has died; funny stories, poignant stories, stories that affirm that this person mattered, and that life matters, and that love doesn’t die. Stories communicate what is most true in ways that are most embraceable.

And they remind the living that the story goes on…as does love.

Question for reflection: Do you tell stories that affirm the lives of those you have loved and lost?

Hunting Zombies

"Whatever you bury before it is dead will come back to haunt you.”
-Anonymous


With Halloween fast approaching, I thought a reflection on zombies would be in order. Zombies, as you know, are those scary monster-persons that somehow come back from the grave in order to destroy the living. They are the un-dead…not fully alive, and not fully dead.

Zombies, of course, do not exist in real life. But they are powerful symbols of something very real; the terrifying parts of our lives that are “un-dead.” We all have painful, ugly experiences we’ve not fully faced, understood, worked through, and then put to rest forever. And there can be good reasons for this.

If the painful experience is overwhelming, we may need to put it off for a while, or make sense of it a little at a time….it’s just too big to do all at once. For instance, it took me years to work through all the fear I felt about my first born son’s fragile early years, where he almost died three different times. There was so much.

And even with disturbing experiences that aren’t life-or-death, the bracketing of these memories can be essential to moving forward. If we sat with all that has gone wrong, or could go wrong in life…all the possible scenarios where we could be injured in mind, body, or spirit…all the ways we have been and still are vulnerable, we’d literally have trouble getting out of bed each morning.

So, this “compartmentalizing” of psychological pain is protective and can even be adaptive to a point, giving us time to “get ready”; to build up psychological resources and relational support.

But in time, whatever we bury before it is dead will come back to haunt us.

Authenticity is fundamentally about truth. It seeks truth, loves truth, explores truth, and works at removing anything that might keep someone from living in truth. And it is especially good at exposing and disposing of “zombies”, those buried parts of our lives that are still haunting us. As zombie hunters have special ways of searching for zombies, those who practice authenticity do as well….beginning with key questions:

Which periods of my life do I not remember well? What social situations do I feel especially anxious in? What are the big losses I’ve had, and what did I do with the feelings connected to them? What emotions do I feel most uncomfortable with now?

Zombies are scary, but not nearly as frightening as a life spent hiding from them.

Question for reflection: Where do you think your zombies are hiding?

An uplifting experience

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it." -Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird


This summer, while enjoying an amazing philosophy workshop on the good life according to Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Aquinas, I also got a lesson in virtue from teachers who didn’t even know they were at work.

The college where my group was meeting was also holding a “come and see” weekend retreat for prospective students. So for a week, at breakfast, lunch and dinner us middle-aged men shared a dining room with high school seniors. Over the first couple of days, in the sea of animated teenagers enjoying their experience on a college campus, I found myself observing a young man in a wheelchair. And throughout the week I kept returning to him, watching him, wondering about him and his story. So young to be wheel-chair bound; what had happened, when did it happen, and how was he coping with it? To walk onto a college campus is daunting enough; what must it be like to have to roll on to one?

I was moved by his witness to courage, and desire, and engagement, and perseverance. I prayed for him. I was sympathetic. And I remained at a distance.

The last morning of my retreat, as I prepared to go down to breakfast, I heard loud chatter in the quad where the students were all gathering to go on a hike. All? My mind wondered about the young man in the chair. I walked outside so I could survey the whole group. And in a corner of the lawn where the students were congregating, I saw a most remarkable scene unfolding.

There, seated in a big wing-back chair was the young man, watching with a huge smile on his face as six of his confreres excitedly altered his wheelchair. They’d found two large wooden poles from God-knows-where, and had carefully placed them under the chair. Then they’d attached these poles to the chair with rope for stability. And finally they placed the young man into his “new” wheelchair, gently secured him, firmly grasped the poles, and slowly lifted.

“Let’s go,” they yelled, re-joining the larger group. And together everyone set off down the trail, the young man being carried along right smack in the middle of the pack.

No one was left behind.

For a week I had watched and cared for this young man from a distance….that’s sympathy. His peers had watched, and then cared for him up close…that’s empathy. I wondered about this young man and his plight, they got to know him and his life. I hoped he would not be left behind, they made sure of it. Sympathy is good. Empathy is better.

Empathy asks you to step into someone else’s shoes, walk around in them for awhile, and then step back out and do something meaningful for that person with the knowledge you’ve gathered. It’s the stuff of saints…who happen to be, on occasion, philosophers too.

Studying Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Aquinas for a week was valuable. But just one moment watching a young man, and the human soul, being elevated by the virtue of empathy was priceless.

Question for reflection: What prevents you from stepping into the shoes of others, seeing things from their perspective, and then doing something meaningful for them with the information gathered?

Friday Night Lights

“Mercy is the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.”-St. Thomas Aquinas

Gainsville State School, located just north of Dallas, is the kind of place where dreams go to die. It is a maximum security juvenile correctional facility for teen-aged boys. There is so much that is not typical; cells instead of cell phones, a dress code stricter than any private school, and a new meaning for after-school detention. There is no escape….except for football.

If you have good behavior and good grades, you can try out for the team. Every game is a road game, of course (not much interest from neighboring schools to voluntarily go to prison), and there’s not much winning. But if you play for the Tornadoes, you get to go out on a Friday night, even if only for a few hours. And feel free.

Many would see this as justice. These boys broke the law, and they should pay for their crimes; it’s only fair…as concrete as the walls that surround Gainsville State School. But a special few understand that justice is completed in mercy, and mercy makes life (and people) a whole lot bigger.

When powerhouse Faith Christian football coach Kris Hogan saw that his team was scheduled to host Gainsville State, he did something remarkable; he emailed the Faith Christian faithful and asked that some of them cheer for the Tornadoes
----and not just once, at the start, to be polite. He asked them to do so for the entire game.

Think about this, you son’s football coach asks you to move to the other side of the stadium and cheer for a bunch of criminals who just happen to be playing against your boy. I know it’s a Christian school, but really?

Hogan’s message was simple: these boys will have no one cheering for them, and probably never have, except for a few of the school’s faculty members and the guards that usher them on and off the field. Largely forgotten, abandoned, given up on by society…at seventeen.

"Mercy is the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.”

So, many of the parents and friends of the Faith Christian team followed Coach Hogan’s suggestion. They formed a “spirit line” for the Tornadoes to run through before the game, and then stayed on the Tornado side of the stadium, cheering throughout for the visitors. At the end, the scoreboard read Faith Christian Lions 33, Gainsville State Tornadoes 14. But you wouldn’t have guessed it by the scene at mid-field, as the Tornadoes playfully doused their coach with water, hugged each other, and prayed with the Lions.

One of the Gainsville players said he felt like he was finally home, and that there were angels on the sidelines.

Compassion in action, mercy; it is a little bit of heaven on earth. And more than that, a confirmation that humans can be noble…and life can be better than fair.

Question for reflection: How often do you practice mercy?

Living history

“History is not was, it is.”
-Arthur Schlessinger

Our little one, Annie, is a Girl Scout. And on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, her troop was asked to participate in a memorial service at the local elementary school. It struck me as important, really important, that she was being asked to remember this event. But I wasn’t at all sure she felt the same way. In fact, I was pretty sure she didn’t.

So, before she left for the event, I asked what 9/11 meant to her. She hesitated for a moment and then answered, “People died on that day.” Yes, very true. As I gathered my thoughts to delve deeper, she blurted out, “Dad, can we go get slurpees after?” Completely understandable response from a nine year-old who didn’t understand exactly what she was supposed to be remembering, from a day she wasn’t even alive for. “Yes, slurpees afterwards…and maybe we can talk some more about 9/11?”

Teaching moments and learning moments can happen at anytime, anywhere, to anyone. But in our rushing around, we sometimes lose track of the larger world and the more eternally significant issues. So we are given the gift of “remembrance” days, where we are reminded that something life-changing, world-shaping happened. And whether we were alive or not doesn’t change the fact that what occurred on that day is important enough to stop and think about.

Some of these days are civil days of remembrance, like the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, D-Day, and Memorial Day. Some are religious days of remembrance, like Easter, Christmas, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur. And some remembrance days are so personal they will matter to only a select few; a wedding anniversary, a birthday, or a death date.

On these days, we are invited to remember that which is (or could be) significant to us; what deserves reflection, mourning, and/or celebration. And with the invitation to remember comes the opportunity to practice the virtue of remembrance. Practice.

If remembrance is just about recalling an event from the past, it’s a history lesson but not a virtue. Something, that happened somewhere, to someone else…

Remembrance is a virtue, a good habit that makes us better people, because it trains us to recall what is significant about life, and then apply these lessons to our own lives. Remembrance must become personal, and it must be lived.

“History is not was, it is.”

As we drove home from the 7/11 store, I asked Annie about the service. “Oh Dad, we sang The Star Spangled banner, and there were firemen there, and we all made handprints on a wall, and talked about the brave people, and why we can’t take our freedom for granted…and how we can be better because of that day.”

How we can be better because of that day; lesson learned.

Question for reflection: What are the days of remembrance that you honor, or should honor?

Home Run

“…And the greatest of these is love.”
-St. Paul of Tarsus


Central Washington University was squaring off against Western Oregon University in a battle for the Great Northwest Athletic Conference women’s softball championship. Not exactly the Yankees vs. the Red Sox. But what transpired in that game would be nearly impossible to match in New York, or Boston, or Timbuktu for that matter.

Sara Tucholsky, the scrappy 5’2” Western Oregon reserve right-fielder, hit a three run home run in the second inning. Because this was the very first one of her collegiate career, she was shocked at the improbable blast. And perhaps this was the reason she missed stepping on first as she joyfully headed around the bases. Turning to go back and touch the bag, Sara tore her ACL and crumpled to the ground in agony. As she lay at first base, her coach called out to the umpire for some guidance. What now? Sara obviously couldn’t finish her homerun trot. She couldn’t even walk. The umpire explained that Sara had to touch all four bases, or else settle for a single. Further, her teammates were not allowed to aid her in any way. It appeared she was on her own.

It was then that Central Washington’s first baseman, Mallory Holtman (who just happened to be the all-time conference home run leader) asked if her team could help Sara. The umpire was understandably dumbfounded. According to the rules, however, the opposing team was in fact allowed to help an opposing player on the bases. So, permission was granted. With that, Mallory asked Sara if she needed a lift.

You just can’t make this stuff up.

Holtman and another infielder picked up Tucholsky and literally carried her to second base, where she gingerly stepped on the bag, then on to third, and finally home plate. As the three athletes made their way around the bases, the crowd rose in a standing ovation. "Touch ‘em all" has never been a more accurate description of a home run.

And Shakespeare himself couldn’t have expressed the virtue of love any more beautifully.

Love is the greatest of all the virtues. It is why human beings were created, and what we should live to be and do. But what is it? After all the philosophizing and soliloquizing, what is love?

Aristotle said that love is, quite simply, wanting someone’s good and acting accordingly. It is essentially about the will, not about strong emotions or deep thoughts. Feelings and thoughts may follow love, but they are not love. You see what should be done, you get outside of yourself for a brief moment, and you freely and generously choose to act for the good of another…without any expectation of payback or acclaim.

Not too complicated…but profound beyond words.

And in an increasingly angry, hurting, confused world, those who seem to be opponents, competitors, and rivals, can suddenly find themselves on the same team.

And for a brief, shining moment everyone wins.

Question for reflection: Who is the greatest example of love for you?

Life in the fast lane

"There is more to life than increasing its speed."
-Mahatma Gandhi

I begin this blog with a confession: Patience is a virtue I do not have a natural predisposition toward. At the market I seek the Express line, and then find myself counting the number of items in the carts of people in front of me. I struggle to reject the belief that going less than 65 MPH in the fast lane of the freeway borders on mortal sin. I never go out to dinner between the hours of 6:00 and 8:00 without a reservation.

I dislike waiting in any way, shape, or form. Problem is, I know how vital patience is to a mature life. And waiting is intimately connected to patience.

Sooner or later, we will run into a situation where there is no short cut, no way to manipulate, no way to force change. And the lesson in patience begins.

Most of us humans operate under the adolescent illusion that we have (and should have) much more control over people and circumstances than we actually do. Some of this illusion can be helpful; it wards off anxiety about the big, dangerous world we must venture forth into, and how vulnerable we actually are in it. But like any illusion, control needs to get checked from time to time so that we don’t totally separate from objective reality.

And that’s why the man in the Express line with twelve items and not ten, and the little old lady going 60 in the fast lane when she could be going 70, and the crowded restaurant where you are invited to take a seat until your name is called can all be tremendously helpful. They make us wait. And in that waiting, we can learn.

Practicing patience develops a pace of life that ensures a care-fullness with self and others, and thus supports balance and perspective.

I am not the only person who has feelings, and needs, and a schedule. I am not the only person who wants to be seen, and heard, and respected. I am surrounded by other people who do not exist to serve me. And as I practice patience, I realize that I don’t have the ability, or the right, to control them anyway.

On the days I can remember to take a deep breath, smile, accept what I receive instead of what I want, and acknowledge that there is more to life than increasing its speed, I am one step closer to growing up.

Question for reflection: When are you most impatient, and what do these times tell you about your “unfinished business”?

Should I blush?

“Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to.”
-Mark Twain

My perspective on behavior, especially questionable behavior, changed radically when I came to the same conclusion wiser people had reached long before; that in everything there is a longing, a striving for the good…it might be well buried, but it is there somewhere.

Remembering this truth was helpful when my wife and I walked past a group of teens the other night congregating outside a movie theater. To sum up the scene, it was all about being seen…and heard. Body parts and underwear boldly on display, loud (and I mean loud) conversations peppered with “sentence enhancers” one wouldn’t hear in church, and a general unconsciousness about the larger world around them. And although it was dark, I’m guessing there wasn’t much blushing going on.

How did Whitman put it? “I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.” Indeed! Everyone wants to be seen. Everyone wants to be heard. This is healthy, and human, and good. But in our efforts to be seen and heard…to be recognized as existing and mattering…do we lose our dignity? Do we become less than who we are meant to be?

The great irony is that in a culture where more and more is revealed (in dress and in speech), alienation and isolation grow. Contact passes for intimacy, freedom is confused with license, and “can” hijacks “should.” What is rightfully seen as off-limits, private, and sacred nowadays? How much is too much? When does decent become indecent? Insights and answers will come as we practice the virtue of modesty.

Modesty is poorly understood and seriously under-valued because it is so often associated exclusively with rules about proper attire at schools, country clubs, and convents. But this is far too superficial an understanding. How one dresses does matter, but what’s going on below the surface matters more.

Modesty guides the sharing of one’s self with others, and safeguards dignity.

For modesty to truly make sense, though, we need to remember that we’re always communicating; sometimes with words sometimes without. How different would we look or sound if we stayed conscious of this?

In our sharing of ourselves, modesty helps us figure out healthy limits and boundaries; what is appropriate, when, and with whom? It also helps us discern what we value about ourselves, and what we truly want affirmed.

“Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to.” Modesty tells us this isn’t a bad thing. All people need an occasional reminder of the call to be humans and not merely creatures…and that sometimes less is more.

Question for reflection: What does modesty look like to you?

First things first

Genius always gives its best at first; prudence, at last.
-Seneca

Welles Crowther worked for Sandler O’Neill Partners on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center. And that’s exactly where he was on the morning of September 11, 2001 when the plane hit. Undaunted, Crowther, with a red bandanna covering his mouth and nose to protect him from the smoke, sprang into action. Witnesses report that he worked with a combination of intensity and calm to rescue people, re-entering the building three times. He is directly responsible for saving the lives of at least 18 people.

The fact that he made it out of the inferno three times when so many didn’t make it out at all is remarkable enough. But that he went back three times to help others is the epitome of heroism. Six months after the South Tower collapsed, the body of this hero was finally recovered in what had been the lobby, along with members of the New York Fire Department with whom he had joined forces. They were trying to go back up once more with a “jaws of life” tool to free victims trapped under rubble.

Courage? Crowther was the very embodiment of it. But I want to focus on another virtue he displayed that day: prudence.

Prudence is about putting “first things first”; it is the virtue that guides sound judgment. Some might quietly and respectfully question the “sound judgment” of a man who would go back into a collapsing sky scraper three times. Back up the stairs as people rushed out. Back into the smoke, and fire, and horror, and death.

Three times.

But prudence isn’t about playing it safe. We’re talking about virtue here, not the basic rules of accounting. Welles Crowther went back again, and again, and again because it was who he had become.

Crises don’t make or break people, they reveal people. And long before September 11, 2001 became synonymous with both evil and heroism, Crowther was figuring out what it meant to make good decisions, judgments that were based on more than just emotion, and ease, and self. In the home and in the classroom, on the athletic field and with friends, as a boy scout and eventually an investment banker and a volunteer firefighter…in a thousand little ways, he learned to put first things first. He learned to focus and stay focused on what was most important, most essential at any given moment.

“Genius always gives its best at first; prudence, at last.”

In the last hour of his life, Welles Crowther made the sound judgment that saving lives was what he was supposed to do…first things first. Not because he had to, but because he could.

And the demons shuddered, and the angels bowed.

Question for reflection: Do you put “first things first”?

Getting it right

"The moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice."
-Martin Luther King, Jr.


Do you know the name James Blake? Neither did I before writing this blog. But we all should, and be grateful for his contribution to society. Because without James Blake, Alabama bus driver and strict adherent to the racial segregation codes of the day, the world would never have met Rosa Parks. Mr. Blake, you see, was the man who ordered Mrs. Parks to give up her seat on his bus so that a white man might sit, and thus gave justice a chance to shine.

December 1, 1955 was a cold day in Montgomery, and Parks was tired from a long day of ironing and stitching shirts for a department store. And in her exhaustion and dignity she uttered that very dangerous word, “No.” Blake threatened to have her arrested, but it made no difference to her. She’d paid for her ticket, she was seated in the section of the bus where blacks were told to sit, and she’d had enough.

Later, when asked why she didn’t just give up her seat, she explained, “I would have to know for once and for all what rights I had as a human being and a citizen." What does it mean to be human and to be a citizen? This Civil Rights movement hero, this American hero, asked the fundamental question that frames the virtue of justice.

Justice is about giving to others what is their due. It is the virtue that uniquely establishes the relationship between self and others. Justice points to the “inalienable rights” all human beings carry with them; rights that are hopefully supported by the laws of the land, but are ultimately deeper and more authoritative than anything that could be legislated. Because they are grounded in Natural Law.

A sense of justice is part of the very essence of human beings, and as a virtue it guides the legitimate search for fairness, equality, and best use of power. Justice is about what’s right, not just what’s accepted. Justice safeguards human dignity. In fact to violate it is to do soul-damage to one’s self. Socrates wrote that those who are unjust should be “pitied.”

It is unnatural to be unjust, thus unjust acts make both practitioners and societies sick.

Although he acted within the law, and was supported by the law, James Blake violated the virtue of justice…what was essentially due Parks as a human being; deeper than any human law, deeper than any cultural context or societal norm, deeper than a political position.

I wonder if James Blake was changed by his encounter with justice on that December day in 1955, and his invitation to become more fully human. He worked for 19 more years as a bus driver, and lived until 2002. That’s a lot of time to reflect. When asked about the incident his standard reply remained, “I wasn't trying to do anything to that Parks woman except do my job…I had my orders.”

Justice demands more than that.

Question for reflection: Where do you see inequalities, double standards, and power plays in your home, your friendships, and your workplace?

Becoming a great soul

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars.” -Kahlil Gibran

This past month I’ve watched with great sadness the burning and looting of London. The combustible mix of poverty, unemployment, and the perception that the government couldn’t care less has once again erupted into rioting. It is a horrible thing to watch people give in to their pain and anger and behave like crazed animals. Actually, now I’m not being fair to animals.

Almost as disturbing as the flames and violence, though, was the analysis of the commentator trying to make sense of the chaos. “Anyone would respond this way if put in similar straits.”

Anyone? How pathetic. How wrong.

But what do you do when you’ve been injured, when you suffer? How do you respond?

Anger will kick in almost immediately, often mixed with a shot of fear. And then an internal sense of justice cries out for a response. “That’s not fair.” “I didn’t deserve that.” “This can’t happen again.” And then what? This is where things typically get ugly. Payback.

But what if injury and suffering could lead to learning, healing, and wisdom?

Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to the finest virtue you’ve never heard of: magnanimity.

Magnanimity, literally translated as “greatness of soul”, is the virtue that transforms hurt into gift. Gift? How is this possible? Because like nothing else, hurt reveals the poverty and potential of humanity. And in this hurt and subsequent anger, magnanimity helps one to choose the exceptional instead of the typical; to respond in a way that witnesses to both truth and love.

Of course one does not become magnanimous, a great soul like Aristotle, Lincoln, Gandhi, or Mother Teresa, all of a sudden and by accident. It takes a lot of practice with anger. Anger is the proverbial fork in the road; where one veers toward magnanimity or pettiness. What one does with anger makes all the difference.

Magnanimity is rare, but opportunities to practice it are not. They will find you in the everyday world: the driver who cuts you off on the freeway; the annoying neighbor who plays his music too loudly; the co-worker who backstabs you; the economic downturn that guts your retirement account; the illness that steals the health of a loved one. All are injuries, big and small; all are opportunities to become a great soul.

The magnanimous see the potential for good in suffering and injury; recognizing both what we are and what we can become. They transform hurt into health, and in the process go from good to great.

Question for reflection: How could you use hurt feelings to grow in magnanimity?

Even Flies?

"All the efforts of the human mind cannot exhaust the essence of a single fly."
-St. Thomas Aquinas

Labels can be very helpful when shopping for a car, or a computer, or a pair of shoes. They help us organize information and make efficient and generally informed decisions. I know if I buy a Volvo, I’ll get a safe car; a Mac, and I’ll have a trustworthy computer; Cole-Haan, a quality pair of loafers.

But how meaningful are labels when applied to human beings: white, black, believers, non-believers, liberals, conservatives, rich, poor? Is this enough information to really know the individual person you’re trying to cubbyhole? White people are racists. Christians are anti-intellectual. Liberals are atheists. Poor people are lazy. To the reasonable person, these too-broad generalizations, stereotypes, are quickly seen as both ridiculous and unkind.

Yet, we’ve all felt pre-judged, categorized, and rejected based on superficial information that reduces us to demographic categories. And few things hurt more. This doesn’t stop us, however, from being tempted to do the same thing to others. There really is some truth to the adage that we abuse the way we’ve been abused.

Labeling people serves a kind of protective function, which is why it’s done so regularly. We want to know who’s safe and who’s not, who’s reliable and who’s not, who’s good, and who’s not. And we want to know quickly, and we really don’t want there to be any gray area, any room for process and discovery, any mystery. Too much risk and up-front investment.

This is fundamentally fear-based and un-natural. Understandable, but unnatural…because it is not grounded in Love.

“All the efforts of the human mind cannot exhaust the essence of a single fly.” This from St. Thomas Aquinas, arguably the greatest genius of the last millennium. If anyone understood the powers and limits of the human mind, it was the Angelic Doctor. So, if we can’t figure out the essence of a fly, what do you think the chances are that we’ll be able to fully plumb the mystery of a human being made in the Image of God?

Should we, then, stop trying to think, stop trying to reason, stop trying to figure things out? Of course not. Heaven knows this world could use a little more rationality, and a little less hysteria.

But it does mean that as we live our lives, and try (more days than not) to get along with those around us, we'd do well to respect the dimension of mystery in others, and to practice reason with a good measure of humility and awe!

Question for reflection: How often do you avoid loving by labeling?

Making beautiful music

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters in the end.”
-Ursula K. LeGuin

If you’ve ever gone to hear an orchestra play, you know that the performance doesn’t begin until the musicians first tune their instruments. The oboe sounds the note “A”, and players make sure their instruments match the pitch. It’s the “warm-up” if you will. Many balmy summer evenings I’ve sat in the amphitheater at the Hollywood Bowl as the sun sank below the hills, and listened to the orchestra slowly but surely get in tune. This delights me in ways I can’t fully explain.

Thus, I could thoroughly relate when a friend told me about his son’s response to the same experience. The young man was attending the Bowl for the first time, and his parents got him there in time to soak in the atmosphere of the place, and watch the orchestra tuning up; kind of preparation for the “real show.” After the concert, on the way home, they excitedly asked the boy which part of the performance he liked best. “Oh,” he replied, “The beginning, just before the guy with the stick came out.”

The process of orchestral tuning is fascinating! The musicians come on stage as individuals, playing various melodies and rhythms. There are moments of discordant sound, and of back and forth between the sections when it’s hard to imagine anything like beautiful music is possible. It’s more a cacophony of noise than a symphony of sound!

Then the “guy with the stick” (aka the conductor!) enters, and with a wave of the arm the many blend into one cohesive unit. The different sections, the string and woodwind, brass and percussion complement each other, and communicate the full message that is too deep for words.

And that lasts 24 hours.

The very next evening the orchestra will begin the process all over again. These world-class musicians will each come back on stage as individual parts, play, stop and listen, play some more, and make adjustments until they finally find unity. Orchestral tuning is a good metaphor for life.

There will be times when your world is in perfect pitch; everything has come together, you feel wonderful, you think lofty thoughts, and beautiful music is made. Then there will be periods when you feel splintered, your emotions are at war, and you think that snapping your conductor’s baton in two and storming off the stage might be the best plan of all.

But most of the time you’ll be somewhere in-between; happiness and sadness, joy and sorrow, peace and anger. There will be this strange mix of thoughts and feelings that you get to somehow make sense of. This is pretty normal. Growth and healing is a 24-hour miracle…one day at a time. Don’t be surprised by the process; and maybe even get to the point where you accept it.

Because in the end, life is much more about the tuning and the adjusting then it is about the concert.

Question for reflection: What are your expectations about life?

One man’s trash…

“Ring the bells that still can ring,
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.” -Leonard Cohen

Antique stores are hopeful places, places that believe in second chances. They accept what others have thrown away, given up on, discarded as un-useable, because they see the potential that remains. Recently, I found myself in a dusty and well-stocked one named “One Man’s Trash…”, an homage to the saying, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

This store had a little of everything, from automobile parts, to farming and gardening equipment, to knick-knacks and artwork found in households. I struck up a conversation with the older gentleman who owned the store, wondering what he enjoyed most about the antiques business. “I believe that everything can be used again, and nothing needs to be wasted,” he said with a contented smile. “I love that notion.”

Everything is useful, and nothing needs to be wasted.

But shame tells us something different. Shame tells us that there’s something so fundamentally wrong with us, so unforgiveable and ugly that if anyone really knew us fully, they’d be repulsed. And we’ve accepted this version of the story to one degree or another. So we feel we must hide those parts of ourselves, and pray no one ever finds out.

Maybe the shame is connected to things you’ve done; choices you regret so deeply that you’ve mistaken who you are for what you did. And no good can come from this.

Maybe the shame is about something that was done to you; and the trauma has left you feeling like you’re too broken to ever be whole again. And no good can come from this.

Unchecked and unexamined, shame feeds on isolation and secrets. Its power grows in the dark.

But did you ever stop to think that only humans feel shame? Animals don’t feel shame. Fish and plants don’t feel shame. Bugs don’t feel shame.

What if we could do something different with shame; to understand it’s presence as a confirmation of our inherent worth and our potential for transformation? Stay with me here.

Shame confirms two truths: that we are not living as we should, and that we are meant for more. Yes, we’re wounded, but we can heal. Yes, we’re imperfect, but we can learn. Yes we’re human, but we’re human…made in the Image of God.

The truth is that if we really were worthless, and so horribly flawed that we could not heal or be loved, we wouldn’t feel shame. We’d feel right at home in our garbage. Our negative self-concept would be congruent with who we truly were, and who we were capable of being. But we don’t…and shame tells us we shouldn’t.

Feelings of shame tell us that we’re stuck in a reality that isn’t fit for us. We are built for freedom, for dignity, for joy, and anything less is not going to feel natural. Everything is useful, and nothing should be wasted.

It’s the ultimate recycling plan.

Question for reflection: What have you felt ashamed of in your life, and what have you done about it?

A dangerous fish

“Action expresses priorities.”
-Mohandas Gandhi

I feel the need to offer a disclaimer at the outset of this reflection: I am not against thinking deeply or feeling deeply. I’d hope that my career choices, and the twenty-three years I spent in school would support this position. And I might add that as a melancholic temperament, I naturally appreciate interiority and reflection. But there can be too much of a good thing.

Do you know the expression “following a red herring”? It comes from a medieval technique used by dog owners to train young scent hounds. A fish, typically a herring, would be soaked in brine or well-smoked and then dragged along a trail by the trainer until the puppy learned to follow the scent. But the goal was not to have the dog follow the strongest scent, but rather the original scent…the one identified as crucial to the search. So the trainer would introduce other scents, and eventually use the red herring to try and confuse the dog. Thus, a “red herring” has come to be known as something that diverts one away from tracking and locating the identified target.

Thinking deeply and feeling deeply by themselves do not lead to change. In fact, they can lead away from it. Self-obsession, isolation, stuckness? Quite possibly. But not change. I believe this is a major reason why counseling fails, even when clients show up, and keep showing up; all the talking and all the feeling doesn’t get translated into a meaningful plan of action that is moved on.

People change for the good, and for good, by living differently; by reflecting on their thoughts and feelings and then putting them into action.

And action expresses priorities.

Assume that a stranger was observing your life, day in and day out, for several months without you actually knowing it. At the conclusion of the study, would he or she have an accurate picture of what you say you value most, based solely on your actions?

“I love her.” What are you going to do about it? “I hate my job.” What are you going to do about it? “I regret my relationship with my mom.” What are you going to do about it? “I need to break that habit.” What are you going to do about it?

Don’t let thinking deeply and feeling deeply become red herrings. Use them to better track the real target, which is right action.

Question for reflection: Where do you need to take action?

Socks and shoes

“The devil is in the details.”
Anonymous

Growing up, I had the amazing experience of going to John Wooden basketball camp for five straight years. For those of you who aren’t hoops enthusiasts, let me explain why this was so special.

John Wooden was, is, and always will be considered the greatest college basketball coach of all time. While at U.C.L.A., his teams collected ten NCAA national championships in a 12-year period — seven in a row— an unprecedented achievement.

Within this period, his teams won a record 88 consecutive games. He was named national coach of the year six times. The athlete voted the most outstanding college basketball player in America each year is given the John R. Wooden award. The man is an icon.

From ages eight to twelve I got to spend a week each summer with this Hall of Famer, this legend, this master teacher…me and about two hundred other campers.

And what do I remember most clearly about my experiences with the master thirty some odd years later? How to properly put on my socks and shoes.

The first day of camp, the gym was buzzing with excitement. And then John Wooden walked in, the Wizard of Westwood. We all stood and cheered wildly, and he humbly nodded and waved. And then the lessons began. He asked us to take our sneakers and socks off, and spent the next fifteen minutes showing us how to properly put them back on, and why this all mattered.

The first time it happened, I admit I was a little underwhelmed. I figured we’d immediately start playing: running, shooting, and rebounding. Mom had already taught me how to dress myself…I wanted a bit more from Coach. And if I felt that way at eight, how do you think some of the greatest collegiate players of all time felt when he started practice the same way with them?

But John Wooden was a life-coach, not just a basketball coach. He understood that “the devil is in the details.” If you don’t pay attention to the little things, the seemingly meaningless details as you rush toward action, there will be serious consequences down the road; injuries and failures. I understand now.

Success is built on thoughtful planning, and respect for the fundamentals, and about taking care of first things first. Yes, action must happen, but carefully and with clear purpose.

Movement is not the same thing as progress.

I’m still that eight year-old far more often then I care to admit, hurrying to get ahead in the game of life and running the risk of overlooking key details; the clues to what matters most. I act as if I can’t afford to slow down; too much to get done. Can you relate?

Maybe it’s time to take the socks and shoes off, and start again?

Question for reflection: What are some of the details of your life you need to pay closer attention to?

A thing of beauty

“Earth is crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God…” E.B. Browning

It was definitely not my finest hour. I can make excuses; we were both in graduate school, we were both working multiple jobs, we were both stressed, money was tight. But I was still a knucklehead. Jenni and I had been back from our honeymoon all of one week, and I came home one evening to find my sweet wife joyfully arranging flowers in a crystal vase.

My parents had sent us twenty dollars in a “welcome home” card, and she’d gone out and bought a bright, beautiful bouquet with it. I immediately questioned my new bride’s judgment, stating quite rationally that the $20 could have paid for five or six dinners (at that time we were on an “all-pasta/all-the-time” meal plan). It could have paid for a month of electricity. It could have paid for a month of cable. “And besides,” I concluded, “the flowers will be dead in three days.” (Blank Stare).

After Jenni paused for a moment, she calmly explained that life wasn’t just about paying bills.

Wife: 1, Husband: O

Beauty matters. It matters because it awakens the senses, celebrates life, and elevates the spirit. And if it did nothing but this, it would matter a lot. Can you even imagine a day without beautiful colors, or music, or shapes, or smells? But beauty does something more, and the clue is in its passing nature.

Beauty is always passing away. By nature, it’s transitory. Flowers wilt, sunsets set, blue skies get smoggy or gray, rainbows vanish, scents dissipate, smiles disappear, and even physical beauty diminishes with time. And this is good, because if beauty never faded, we’d worship it. We’d stay fixated on the material, and not see the eternal purpose it ultimately serves. Beauty points to the One Who Created it, the One Who is eternal, the One Who is calling us to a beauty that doesn’t end.

Love beauty, and through it love the One Who thinks you are beautiful.

Question for reflection: What is beautiful to you?

Working it out

“It’s not the job you do, it’s how you do the job.”
-Anonymous

I awoke at 6 A.M. this morning with my newly attached crown suddenly detached, and rattling around in my mouth like a little piece of hard candy. Normally I’d have the self-restraint to wait until a decent hour to call about this, but nerve pain has a way of blowtorching certain social niceties.

I vaguely recalled my dentist encouraging me to contact his colleague who would be standing in for him over this holiday weekend if any problems arose.

So, I called Dr. Howard Gottlieb’s emergency number, expecting to get his answering service. The man himself picked up. Now remember, its Saturday morning, he’s not my dentist, and did I mention that it was 6 A.M. on a holiday weekend? “No problem, I’m on the job. Now let’s get you in and fixed up.”

I wasn’t on pain medication, so I know for sure that he actually said these words.

Honestly, if I listed all the virtues, the good habits, that make the world a better place, professionalism would not be in my top twenty…maybe not even in my top fifty. But it should be. Consider the powerfully positive impact doing your job with a spirit of excellence 40-50 hours a week, fifty some odd weeks a year, can have on the world around you.

Professionalism is not the job you do, it’s how you do the job.

It includes competency, but it’s much more than just competency. One who practices professionalism sees human beings and not just tasks, seizes opportunities to care and not just profit, and attends at least as much to what can’t be tallied on a spread sheet as what can.

That’s why professionalism is a virtue; it makes you a better person, not just a successful person.

So, in due time I arrived at the office and the good doctor was waiting for me. He was pleasant, prompt, and proficient, and in 45 minutes had me on my way. “How much do I owe you” I asked? “Nothing,” he answered. “Dr. Ford would do the same for me if I was on vacation.”

As I left I thanked him once more, and told him how very grateful I was for his professionalism. He smiled and shook his head. “Hey, this is what I do.”

Well, that’s true…and then some!

Question for reflection: How hard do you work at professionalism?

The potato field

“Integrity is what you do when no one is watching.”
-Tony Dungy

There they stand in the middle of an empty field at dusk. Husband and wife, peasant potato farmers with their tools, wheelbarrow, sacks, and basket surrounding them, their heads are bowed in reverence. The church steeple in the distance along with the title of the painting, The Angelus, tells us why. The man and woman have heard the bells calling them to prayer and they’ve obeyed. They don’t have to. God knows they’re exhausted from a full day of backbreaking work. Their clothes are dirty, and their expressions sober. Who would blame them for continuing to work in order to more quickly wrap things up for the evening, and maybe cut a few corners? Would it even qualify as cutting corners? For this couple it would be, and they’d know it; that settles sit. So they stop.

Jean-Francois Millet’s iconic painting is a profound statement about integrity.

Integrity is about what you do when no one’s watching. It’s about knowing and behaving as you should; not because you must, or because you’re afraid, or because you are going to somehow be compensated with acclaim, or a promotion, or a bonus. This moral discipline is the fruit of repetition, of practice...lots of practice.

Aristotle wrote that excellence is a habit, not an act. Being generous on occasion, being merciful when it’s convenient, being sacrificial when you know there’s a pay-off, being faithful in most ways, loving people who love you…this might pass in today’s world as character, but it’s still not integrity.

Integrity comes from the word that means “whole” or “complete”, and it’s about living in ways that make you whole, complete. It’s about your walk and your talk being congruent; about consistency, trustworthiness, and truthfulness. Integrity does not ask you to be perfect, but it does demand an ever-deepening, lived commitment to good habits; habits that lead to real happiness.

What are the “potato fields” of your life? The places where you are not immediately accountable? Where can you “cut corners” morally and probably get away with it: your work, your finances, your interaction with others, the internet, the movies and television shows you watch?

If you’re anything like the rest of humankind, you’ll have good days and bad days; days you’re proud of and days you’d just as soon forget. Work at seeing integrity as a process you begin anew each morning, and evaluate each evening.

And see integrity as a reward in itself; something you strive for because you can.

Question for reflection: Who is your model for integrity?

Favorite Things

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
-Howard Thurman


What makes you come alive? Sounds like an unnecessary question for serious-minded people, intent on making the world a better place. Or worse, distracting…after all, life’s too short to waste time on “ice-breaker”, touchy-feely exercises, right? Let’s just focus on responsibility, duty, sacrifice, and leave psycho-babble tripe to encounter groups and high school student-exchange programs.

I’ve been there, and thought that. So, let me put it differently: When you stand before your Creator someday, will God ask you why you weren’t more like Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi, or Abraham Lincoln…or why you weren’t more like the person YOU were meant to be? (Hint: It’s going to be about you).

“Coming alive” is a challenge that’s a good deal more important than one might understand at first; far more than having and maintaining a pulse, and checking the boxes on your daily to-do list. It’s fundamentally about becoming the vital, creative person you were meant to be; it’s about coming alive.

O.K., so how does this happen? How does one come alive?

The most popular response is to change something about your life, shake things up, have a new experience: a memorable vacation, a new hobby, a job change, a new home, a new relationship, bungee jumping. This can help you “come alive” if the new experience can somehow impact you deeply enough to change old patterns. But these experiences are too often like the defibrillator machine and paddles a hospital might use to save someone in cardiac arrest. A quick blast of electricity, and then…

There is another way; one that takes more reflection and time. But it’s also more reliable because it taps into something already deep inside you. Rodgers and Hammerstein provide a clue (now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d write!).

Recall in The Sound of Music, when Julie Andrews sings “My Favorite Things”? She recites a litany of things that help her feel better: raindrops, kittens, kettles, and mittens. But it’s a good deal more than a simple list she’s racing through; these things have memories and life-giving associations attached to them…as well as instructions.

When I recite a list of just a few of my “favorites” (Jenni, my children, the beach at sunset, lavender, Santa Barbara, Gregorian chant, the Lakers, sycamore trees, pecan pie, Springsteen, Eliot), I come alive, I’m energized, and I’m reminded of what I already know.

Memories are so much more than snapshots of people, places, and things from long ago. They help us learn from the past, process new information, and point the way forward; re-presenting what has worked, what we’ve cherished, and what we could still embrace. We are reminded of how we’ve come alive before, and that we don’t need to search outside ourselves to really come alive again…for good.

We just need to remember.

Question for reflection: What are your favorite things, and what do they tell you about coming alive?

Knock, knock, knock

Let everything happen to you; beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final."
-Rainer Maria Rilke


I heard it again today in a counseling session. In fact, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard this sentence in my practice, I’d already be able to afford my beach house.

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way.”

You shouldn’t feel what way? Angry, sad, anxious, sexual, bored, skeptical, scared, happy, hopeless? Hmmm….

Few issues are more complicated, less understood, and more routinely mis-used than feelings, emotions. And what I find fascinating is how often they are still seen as threats to stability and general well-being, as intruders to be guarded against.

Feelings move us, stir us, and remind us that our inner worlds hold immense power we are only partially conscious of. Memories and experiences are stored up in the attics of our minds like boxed up books and toys from long ago; dusty and hidden from the light. But then something is said, or done, and in a flash the past is suddenly very present…uninvited. And feelings can leave us vulnerable.

So in an effort to protect and control, feelings are repressed, dismissed, or flat-out denied. “I’m fine.” It’s no big deal.” “It doesn’t matter.” “This is stupid.” “I don’t feel anything.”

This is psychologically equivalent to hearing the knock, knock, knock of the UPS man at the front door with a special delivery for you, and responding by running into the other room, turning up the stereo, and humming loudly until the knocking stops. However, unlike the UPS man, feelings won’t go away for long. And your attempts to avoid emotional pain and discomfort will only cause you greater distress.

Feelings are not good or bad. They are value-neutral. What you do with feelings can be good or bad, healthy or unhealthy, constructive or destructive. But feelings are simply messengers trying to deliver important information to you about your life. What do you need to explore and heal? What do you need to change? What do you need to continue doing?

No feeling is final. But the damage done by not heeding messages from your interior world can be.

Question for reflection: What feelings are you most uncomfortable with?

Accounting 101

“Accountability breeds response-ability."
-Stephen R. Covey

Talk about your wake-up call! Dr. Alfred Nobel, whose name has become synonymous with peace, was confronted one morning with his own obituary after a newspaper confused him with his recently deceased brother. “The merchant of death is dead!” the headline shouted. “Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever, died yesterday.”

Nobel, the inventor of dynamite, was deeply disturbed that he would be remembered this way. And because of this experience he ended up designating the bulk of his massive estate for the establishment of the Nobel Prizes.

Accountability comes in many forms, even obituaries. And we will all have the chance to answer its call, sooner or later….answer for our actions, or inactions. “Accountability breeds response-ability,” because the challenge to live in truth comes from outside of us, reveals to us our psychological and spiritual blind spots, and stretches us beyond where we’d go if left to our own devices.

But what do you get when you answer to no one? And even worse, that in your isolation and denial your discernment is lacking? What you get is an increasingly large segment of American culture.

A significant amount of research suggests that Americans don’t understand the true nature of accountability, and are increasingly likely to fall prey to the phenomenon known as the “self-serving bias.” What does that mean? People will show a reliable tendency to interpret events in ways that are most favorable to them, or show them in the best possible light, even when objective facts don’t justify these judgments.

If I get the job it’s because I’m wonderful, if I don’t it’s because I was discriminated against. If I stay with my wife, it’s because I’m wonderful, if I leave it’s because she wasn’t meeting my needs. If my son excels in school it’s because he’s my son, and I’m wonderful, if he rebels it’s because of the school.

This is consistent with what Paul Vitz has called “selfism”, and what Christopher Lasch has called “the culture of narcissism.”

I can decide that I want to drive to San Francisco. I can have a high-performance car, a confident attitude, and even know what I want to do when I get there. But if I go south instead of north, and then east instead of west, I’m not going to end up in San Francisco. And all of my positive self-talk and ego-strength won’t change the fact that I’m headed in the wrong direction. In fact, the longer I go without a clue, the more lost I’ll get.

We routinely seek out and follow trustworthy information about diets, movies, restaurants, clothes, fitness regimens, electronic devices, and finances. Should we not do at least as much for the direction of our lives, and our eternal souls?

Question for reflection: Who do you answer to?

It's not JUST about you!

"We live our lives like chips in a kaleidoscope, always parts of patterns that are larger than ourselves and somehow more than the sum of their parts."
-Salvador Minuchin

Here’s a commencement address I’d love to hear spoken gently, lovingly, and with real conviction to all graduates, at all graduations around the world: at high schools, colleges, and graduate schools:

"It’s about you, but it’s not just about you.”

I believe this message would be good for those in the audience to hear as well.

You matter. You are special. You are unique. And so are the other 6.92 billion human beings you need to learn how to share this planet with.

One needs to be careful at times of great celebration not to get preachy. Actually there’s no great time to get preachy. But a commencement ceremony is a particularly strategic place to point out the wonderfully complex, inter-relatedness of life, and then to challenge any folks who might still be listening to try to think at least as much about others as they do about themselves.

We are, as Minuchin points out, like chips in a kaleidoscope…part of a pattern much bigger than we can even imagine. We don’t get smaller with this realization, but our understanding of the world can get a whole lot bigger. And this is a good start.

In truth, there is no such thing as an “independent” person, a self-made person, a lone-ranger. You did not create yourself, you did not create the talents you’ve been blessed with, and you did not create the natural world you live in. Yes, you have the opportunity and responsibility to develop the life and talents you were given, and embrace the world around you, but this doesn’t happen in isolation either. You stand on the shoulders of others; others who have sacrificed, struggled, and persevered in making your world better.

This is a ridiculously obvious insight, but insight has never guaranteed change. And in a culture that is increasingly privatized, and thus increasingly splintered and alienated, it’s best not to assume about anything that's important.

So what do we do with this insight? We recognize the gift, we recognize the giver, and then we start saying thank you; thoughtfully, sincerely, and continuously. Life is a gift, health is a gift, love and friendship are gifts, freedom is a gift, truth is a gift, beauty is a gift, work is a gift, play is a gift, triumphs are a gift, struggles are a gift. And the opportunity to make a difference for the Good with all you’ve been given is perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Gratitude opens us up to all that is good, and to a deeper knowing that our world is not accidental, but Providential.

It’s about you, but it’s not just about you. And you should be grateful!

The Last Time

“Do you love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”
-Benjamin Franklin

In December 1973, the hauntingly beautiful “Time in a Bottle” shot to #1 on the pop charts. Jim Croce had been inspired to write the ballad by and for his infant son. The refrain, “But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them,” expresses a longing that is at once personal and universal. We can all relate, deeply.

And adding to the poignancy of the message was the fact that just three months prior to the song reaching #1, Croce died in an airplane crash. He was thirty, and his son was two.

Time is precious. But it can’t be bottled, captured, controlled, and stored up. And it cannot be reclaimed. It is always slipping away, and with it the opportunities we have left to do something meaningful with it. And there never seems to be enough time…

“Do you love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”

I think we squander time because we think we can get away with it…that there will always be more. Sort of like a twelve year-old who’s just learned how to use dad’s ATM card.

How different would our lives be, though, if we approached every situation with the simple question, “What if this is the last time?”

What if this is the last time I kiss my beloved?
What if this is the last time I kneel in prayer?
What if this is the last time I shoot baskets with my son, or belt out a Springsteen song, or dance with my little girl?
What if this is the last time I watch a sunset?

Talk about carpe diem…of suddenly, powerfully living in the moment!

At the end of life, the passage of time is not what’s regretted…it’s what we’ve not done with the time we were given that will haunt us.

“What if this is the last time?” Someday it will be…and that will be o.k. if you’ve lived well.

Too Much Reality

Humankind cannot stand too much reality.” -T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton

I have not been asked to give a speech at Rutgers University. I suspect I never will be either. Not too surprising.

What might be considered surprising, however, is the person who recently was asked.

There is so much that disturbs me about Rutgers University’s decision to pay Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi of “Jersey Shore” reality television fame $32,000 to speak to the student body about her “GTL lifestyle” (that would be Gym-Tanning-Laundry for the uninitiated). I begin with the judgement that she was someone worth bringing on campus at all (the major takeaway from her talk: “Study hard, but party harder”); and that she was paid with money from a mandatory student activity fee; and that her appearance fee was more than the fee paid to Nobel Prize winning author Toni Morrison for giving the commencement address at the very same school one month later. I could go on.

My first instinct was to go on the offensive; attack the messenger. “Snooki” is so easy for sensible people to dislike, to blame, to vilify for her part in this cultural drift toward banality and worse. But after a good old fashioned, self-righteous rant, I realized that I was doing some classic scapegoating. This character is a creation, not a creator. She is a symptom of the illness, not the illness. Even before her fifteen minutes of fame end, there will be (and already is) another loud, crude, exhibitionistic “Snooki”, or Brody, or Sheen, or take-your-pick Kardashian, or Paris ready to squat in the role of “reality star” for the next fifteen minutes.

My second instinct was defensive; dismiss the message because of the messenger. “Snooki” is a bad joke, and the Rutgers decision to invite her is just an aberration. I’d never ask Snooki to speak, pay her to speak, or listen to her speak. This isn’t my reality. And the vast majority of the world is with me on this one, no doubt. “Distracted from distraction by distraction…filled with fancies and empty of meaning.” All the noise, and toys, and hysteria, and fighting, and booze, and vomit, and sex, and plastic surgery…

But if this is true, then why am I so worked up? Why, if this person and this decision are so pathetic and irregular, am I so angry about it? This isn’t about me, right? Not my reality? Not connecting with my story at all?

Here’s a crazy thought. What if reality television was not primarily inexpensive programming material intended to numb America into a moral stupor, but rather a sophisticated series of commentaries hidden in the guise of trash, meant to graphically expose humankind’s frailty…both poignant and horrible at the same time?

Maybe I shouldn’t pretend to be so surprised about Snooki, and Rutgers?

The recently beatified Mother Teresa of Calcutta was once asked why she did what she did. Her answer: “Because I have a Hitler inside me.” She is a saint. I can’t get there yet (mostly because I don’t consistently want to get there yet). But what I can admit to today is that I have a “Snooki” inside me.

Like “Snooki”, and the folks at Rutgers and elsewhere who find her fascinating, I have a fallen nature; a fundamental fault line which reminds me in little and big ways as life rocks and rolls that often my reality does not conform with Reality. Like “reality television”, my life is still too filled with staged encounters, and drama, and sensationalism, and youtube-worthy moments of puff and emptiness.

Too much Reality for my reality.

To use Eliot’s words once more, I too seek to be “distracted from distraction by distraction”, in order to not rest too long at the “still point of the turning world.” And all the while the God Who Uses Everything whispers that I am very much like those people…the Jersey Shore, Real Housewives, Kardashian, The Hills, Celebrity Rehab people. I would still too often prefer to talk about myself, to observe others (taking particular interest in their mistakes), to bask in the illusion of control, to pretend to have all the answers, and to subtly feel superior in an acceptably “Christian” way.

And maybe you can relate? Just a little? So now what?

I’d like to turn to the solution, to quickly switch the focus to what we can all do to put the reality television dimension of our own lives in the rear view mirror. I’d really like to do this. Because humankind cannot stand too much reality.

The "If" Word

“A stiff apology is a second insult.... The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.”
-G.K. Chesterton

Last week I read of another public figure who began his feeble attempt at an apology for bad behavior with the phrase, “If I offended anyone…” This is what Chesterton would call a “stiff apology.” I would call it insincere.

I could simply explain this as another narcissistic famous person being too full of himself to spontaneously practice humility. He drew some heat for his poor choice of words, and was apologizing because his manager or publicist told him to. I think my analysis is probably true, but there’s more to it than this…the issue goes deeper. Because the struggle to offer a real apology is not a famous person issue, it is a human being issue; mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and foes.

“If I offended anyone…”, “If my words hurt you…”, “If you took it that way…”

When it comes to apologizing, the “if” word is a really bad word.

A sincere apology is a rare thing indeed; no “ifs”, no “ands”, and no “buts”. Why is this? I think the answer involves several issues, including immaturity, fear, pride, and indifference. But I’m most interested in what it says about how one sees relationships.

Transactional. Conditional. Quid pro quo. “This for that”; I’ll give you an apology because the consequence might cost me something. You might get angry with me, you might try and hurt me back, you might hassle me with more of your boring feelings.

So, I’ll offer something that sounds polite and hopefully that will cover the “damages.” Yes, it is very general, and it needs to be. Specifics challenge me to reflect on what I’ve done, and what I need to take responsibility for. And I’m as disinterested in exploring my motives as I am in empathizing with your feelings.

“Why” takes time. “Why” takes energy. “Why” asks me to be vulnerable.

A lousy apology, one that comes from the head and not the heart and is grounded in pride and not humility, does nothing to help heal the wound my words or deeds have caused. In fact, it makes matters worse. My lack of genuine care and interest in the relationship is made even more obvious. In the end (and probably in the beginning and middle, too) it is still about me and my feelings, not you and yours.

Everyone makes mistakes. This is human, and understandable. But I can’t be forgiven if I don’t really think I need to be, and don’t really ask to be. And I can’t be trusted either.