Gathering Voices: Faithful Conversations from The Thoughtful Christian

The Invisible Footprints of Leadership - Part 2

A Gathering Voices post by Beth Pyles

If I were to offer my own ‘Top Ten’ on good leadership, coming more from my own failures than successes, they would probably be:

1. Do no harm.  It’s axiomatic, but leaving folks worse off than better for the encounter is abuse, not leadership.  And the excuse, “this is for your own good” is just that – an excuse for my own failings.

2. Talk less, listen more.  I really fail at this one – a lot.  

3. Roll up your sleeves.  Be willing to do anything that you ask others to do, especially the dirty, footwashing, kind of stuff that no one wants to do but has to be done.

4. Love, love, love.  People know when they are not cherished.  To fail to love those whom we serve does great harm.

5. Share.  To refuse to delegate is to refuse to share – it’s an act of selfishness, not selflessness.

6. Show up.  Be present to people.  See them – really see them.  

7. Admit what you can’t or won’t do.  There really are some things I cannot do and some I just will not do.  I will not eat shrimp.  It’s silly, but it’s true.  I won’t eat it to please you.  I won’t eat it to be polite.  I won’t eat it.  And it’s really o.k. to say so.

8. Admit when you’re wrong.  We all make mistakes.  And people know yours.  What they don’t know is whether you know them or not.  

9. Name the conflict and deal with it.  Conflict avoidance is deadly.  Conflict doesn’t go away by ignoring it.  We all know this.  But, oh, the lengths to which we will go to avoid dealing with it.  In 12 Step programs, there’s a slogan: Some are sick, some are sicker than others, and some are as sick as they want to be.  To avoid conflict is to be as sick as we want to be.

10. Know when it’s time to go.  The hardest thing for me to grasp has been that I am not always the solution to someone’s problem.  Years ago I learned the value of letting go.  A client had become difficult to work with and we ended up avoiding each other.  I gave up, but I didn’t let go, until finally I realized that nothing I did would resolve our situation and so I severed the relationship.  Months later, I saw her.  She literally ran up to me.  I was frightened that she might hit me, but instead, she threw her arms around me and thanked me and let me know how she had been able to move on and resolve the problem.  With absolutely no help from me, she was able to do what she needed to do.  It’s humbling to realize that I might not have what you need.  But it’s important: otherwise, we end up right back at #1, doing harm where we had only the best of intentions.  

May the seeds grow, but may my footprints be invisible.

Autobasileia

A Gathering Voices Post by Don McKim

 

The liturgical year now swings into the period when we consider the early ministry of Jesus.

I was recently doing some theological reflection on Mark 1:14-15, the proclamation of Jesus and his saying: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:15).

This is the starting point, the orientation for all that follows in the Gospels and indeed for the ministry of Jesus himself. As Frank Matera notes, “Everything that Jesus says or does is in some way related to the proclamation of the kingdom”[1] The kingdom of God or reign of God was Jesus’ central message. It is the most powerful image imaginable for orienting our lives as well.

Jesus’ startling proclamation is that the kingdom has “come near” or “arrived.” This signals a new reality being born, a direct change in all life, based on the life and ministry of Jesus to unfold in his Galilean ministry and beyond. There is now no escaping the reality of dealing with God’s presence, agenda, and reign. Opting out or not engaging the reign—one way or another—is not an option. As the New Testament scholar C.E.B. Cranfield put it, the kingdom of God has come close to humans “in the person of Jesus, and in his person it actually confronts them”[2]

Theologically as the Gospels unfold, we find the familiar recognition of the “already and the not yet” in regard to the kingdom. Jesus referred to the reign of God in two dimensions, the kingdom as a present and a future reality. As Vincent Taylor wrote, “Jesus spoke of the basileia [kingdom] as future (Mark 14:25; Luke 11:2 etc.), but also as present in Himself and His ministry (Luke 7:18-23; 10:23f.; 11:20, 31f.). In a true sense, therefore, he taught a ‘realized eschatology.’”[3]

We are most familiar with looking to the future kingdom. We pray it daily in the Lord’s Prayer: “Your kingdom come. Your will be done” (Matthew 6:6). We anticipate the coming kingdom and the time when: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever” (Revelation 11:15). This is the culmination of history and the full expression of the eternal reality all history anticipates. It is the vision of God’s ultimate triumph and the establishment of “a new heaven and a new earth” (Revelation 21:1).

But what about the present reality of the kingdom? Taylor said that “there is clear evidence that Jesus believed the basileia to be present in Himself and His ministry.”[4] This insight led early church theologians, such as Tertullian and Origen to refer to the kingdom of God as autobasileia—a “self-kingdom”—a self-kingdom in Jesus Christ. Cranfield wrote: “In fact, we may actually go so far as to say that the kingdom of God is Jesus and that he is the kingdom.”[5] So if we want to see what the kingdom of God looks like: we look at Jesus Christ. In him, the “fullness of time” has come (Galatians 4:4; Mark 1:15) and God’s new rule is seen and begun.

We are “kingdom people,” those who seek to live in accord with God’s will and reign in the present, as we are “on our way” to the future, and the final establishment of God’s ultimate and eternal reign.

No more energizing vision can be ours than to realize we can participate in God’s kingdom in the here and now! In every event, situation, encounter and daily doing in life, we can experience the kingdom. Jesus began so many of his parables with the phrase, “the kingdom of God (of heaven) is like…” We can live in the kingdom, now! And what more exciting life can we imagine?

We look to Jesus Christ who is himself, the kingdom of God. No wonder this is “good news”!

---

[1] Frank J. Matera, New Testament Theology: Exploring Diversity and Unity (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007), 12.

[2] C.E. B. Cranfield, The Gospel According to St. Mark (Cambridge: University Press, 1966), 68.

[3] Vincent Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark, 2^nd ed., rpt. (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1969), 166.

[4] Taylor, 167.

[5] Cranfield, 66 citing Tertullian, ad Marcion 4.33 and Origen, Comment. In Matt, Tom 14.7 on Matthew 18:23.

Oscar Nominations Good News for People of Faith

 

No doubt the recent release of the Oscar nominations is creating plenty of buzz in the workplace and at church gatherings. For people of faith there is a lot to cheer about this year. Six of the films nominated for “Best Picture” are on my annual “Top Ten” of films dealing with spiritual and human relationship themes that Presbyterian News Service just sent out. And then I got to see director Stephen Daldry's wonderful Extremely Close and Incredibly Close Up, and thus had to insert this and expel one of the films from the first list. To see which one, go to www.visualparables.net . (This might not get posted until Monday, Jan. 30)

 The Artist

Rated PG-13. Ecclesiastes 9:11-12; 1 Corinthians 13:4a
This blend of A Star is Born and Singing in the Rain is a delight to see, with no dialogue until the end. Set in the late 20s when sound is being introduced to motion pictures, it is story of a falling silent film actor and the rise of the young actress whom he helped break in to the profession. Themes of love, grace and the danger of pride are well developed.

 The Descendants

Rated R. Matthew 18:2; Psalm 24:1-2.

Grace, responsibility to the land, and family reconciliation—director Alexander Payne's film, set in Hawaii has all this and more. (See an earlier blog for more.)

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Rated PG-13. Matthew 5:4; Isaiah. 66:13.

This powerful film is not about 9/11 but about its aftermath, and in particular about a boy whose father was in the tower and struggles with a mixture of grief and guilt as he searches throughout the five borroughs of New York City to discover what a key that his father left will open. What seems at first like a father son film has a couple of surprises, especially in regard to his mother.

 

The Help
Rated PG-13. Psalm 146:7b-9; Proverbs 31:8.

This civil rights era story set in Jackson Mississippi affirms the importance of sisterhood and of the support of the church for the black maids and the white writer in exposing racism in the domestic workplace.

 

Hugo
Rated PG. Psalm 82:3-4; Isaiah 11:6d

An orphaned boy secretly living above the concourse of a Parisian train station during the 1930s discovers his purpose in life—to fix a complicated automaton left by his father and a broken man.

The Tree of Life
Rated PG-13. Job 38:4-7; Matthew 5:45b

Terence Malick's film can be seen as a visual meditation on the Job passage, which we see on the screen at the beginning of the film. Departing from the usual narrative structure, the film includes scenes of a family living in Texas in the Fifties, with the themes of law and grace of great beauty. The director even inserts the creation of the universe from the Big Bang through the dinosaurs, the family, and a reunion beyond this life.

 

War Horse.

Rated PG-13. Luke 2:13-14.

Steven Spielberg is up to his usual high form in that his war film shows the humanity of both the British and the German soldiers, drawn together at the climax by their love of the horse trapped and in pain between their lines.

 

All of the above will make for good viewing and discussion for church film groups, as well as provide some preaching material for pastors seeking to relate their sermons to the culture. And besides the seven briefly discussed above, other worthy nominees include My Week With Marilyn; Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy; The Iron Lady, and one which I wish could have been given more recognition, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 2. I'm really looking forward to the Oscar Awards this year—and am somewhat glad that I don't have to pick “Best Picture,” torn as I am between so many good choices. What ones are you hoping to see honored on February 26?

 

Reviews of the above films are up, or in several cases, soon will be posted at visualparables.net.

The Invisible Footprints of Leadership - Part 1

A Gathering Voices post by Beth Pyles

To lead people, walk beside them ... As for the best leaders, the people do not notice their existence. The next best, the people honor and praise. The next, the people fear; and the next, the people hate ... When the best leader's work is done the people say, 'We did it ourselves!'— Lao-tsu

The quote from Lao-tsu reminds me of a similar conversation I often had with my then-husband, usually when we were dining in a nice restaurant.  Bob was speaking not of leaders, but of waiters, “you never see a good waiter.  It’s as if the water appears at your side by magic.  A good waiter knows how not to be noticed.”

Bob and Lao-tsu both speak to the servant model of leadership, a popular catch-phrase in the church.

But what does it mean to be a ‘servant leader’?  Many Christians point to Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet on the night of the Last Supper, and rightly so.  Jesus was giving his followers a show-and-tell lesson in servanthood from a leader’s perspective: nothing is so demeaning, that I would not do it for you and have you do it for others.  

But what about church leaders, and ministers in particular?  What does it look like to be a servant-leader in the middle of a committee meeting?  When listening to a congregant’s crisis?  When stuck behind a slow driver in the fast lane (who just might also be a congregant)?

Can it all be simply boiled down to the aphorism “lead by example”?  

I wish I knew. 

Most of the moments in my ministry that bring people closer together aren’t what I think of as leadership moments.  When I’m sitting with someone who has just said good-bye to a loved one or when I’m listening to someone’s troubles, or when we’re laughing in the kitchen together, I feel the unifying action of the Holy Spirit in our midst.  That doesn’t seem like leadership.  It feels like being present.

Perhaps being present, just the ordinary act of showing up is part of being a leader.  All I know for certain is that I am forgiven much when I just show up.

But back to Lao-tsu.  Being invisible feels counter-intuitive to being a good leader.  Don’t people have to see who or what they’re following?  And maybe that’s it – it’s the ‘what’ that matters; not the ‘who’.  I used to get quite irritated whenever someone offered an idea that they had gotten from me as if it were their own.  But I have come to realize that we all do this – take on board the thoughts of others and incorporate them into our own fabric, seldom realizing the origin of the thought from elsewhere.  

Maybe it’s akin to seed planting.  The garden spends little time wondering where the seeds came from.  The garden takes the seeds on and nurtures them into maturity.  It matters that I plant the seeds, but it does not matter that the garden know it.

TOUGH LOVE RULES WHEN HEARING HORROR

A Gathering Voices post by Beth Pyles

Sooner or later, someone is going to tell you of a life experience that is beyond description in its horror and evil.  Here are some suggestions for how to not screw it up.

1. Suck it up.  Do not cry - not then, not while you’re in the room with them.  This is their horror, not yours.  

2. Do not run from the pain of others.  If they could live through it and they can tell it, the least you can do is hear it.

3. Talk less, listen more.  They need to tell and they need you to listen.  They don’t necessarily need you to understand every detail.  But they do need you to pay attention.

4. Do not underestimate the cost to you of the listening - it costs you something of your soul to learn firsthand about the reality and enormity of evil.  

5. Share with a trusted confidant your own processing - your feelings and reactions.  Think about how all this affects your own faith and worldview, but before doing any of the thinking work, simply feel your own feelings – after you’ve left the presence of the story teller.  Own your revulsion, your rage, your horror, your grief.

6. Find your own way to forgiving the wrongdoer(s).  Judging them and what they did is not the answer to your own reaction.  You need to do the work you preach and forgive.  

7. Avoid telling the one to whom it happened about their need to forgive.  Maybe that’ll come later.  But in the throes of relating a story of great suffering is not the time to speak of forgiveness unless the story teller brings it up.  Chances are they won’t, except perhaps as a challenge.  People telling about horrible things that have happened to them are often, if not always, reliving the experience in the telling.  When you’re in the middle of the event is not the time to talk forgiveness.

8. Tell them you’re sorry it happened to them.  Don’t cringe from naming the reality.  The one who lived through it and is brave enough to tell already knows what it was.  “I am so sorry you were raped.”  “I hate that you were tortured in this way.”  

9. Treat what they have told you as the strictest of confidences.  Never allude to it in the company of others - not from the pulpit (even in general terms), not in a social setting, not even in the presence of those closest to them.  It is their story, not yours.  

10. Acknowledge that you don’t understand.

11. Never, never, never, say that you know how they feel.  You don’t.  Even if something very similar happened to you, you don’t know how they feel.  You know how you feel.  And sharing your own experiences when someone is sharing theirs is stealing center stage for yourself.  

12. Maintain eye contact.  It’s tempting to look anywhere but into the eyes of the suffering, but they need that contact from you.  Give it to them.  

There Be Dragons

A Gathering Voices Post by Don McKim

 

A few weeks ago we lost a distinguished pastor, theologian, and leader of the Presbyterian Church (USA) with the death of Dr. Thomas W. Gillespie (November 5, 2011). Tom was a long-time pastor in California before becoming President of Princeton Theological Seminary where he served from 1983 until his retirement in 2004. At the time of his death, he was serving on the General Assembly Mission Council.

I did not attend Princeton Seminary, but knew Tom Gillespie for nearly thirty years. We met in the early 1980’s when he was a member of the General Assembly’s Task Force on Biblical Authority and Interpretation. The Task Force was considering the work Jack Rogers and I had done in our The Authority and Interpretation of the Bible: An Historical Approach (Harper and Row, 1979; rpt. Wipf and Stock, 1999; https://wipfandstock.com/store/The_Authority_and_Interpretation_of_the_Bible_An_Historical_Approach). For the Task Force, Tom Gillespie wrote a paper, “Biblical Authority and Interpretation: The Current Debate on Hermeneutics” which I included in my edited volume, A Guide to Contemporary Hermeneutics: Major Trends in Biblical Interpretation (Eerdmans, 1986; rpt. Wipf and Stock, 1999; https://wipfandstock.com/store/A_Guide_to_Contemporary_Hermeneutics_Major_Trends_in_Biblical_Interpretation). It was a fine piece and I was delighted to include it in the collection. I most recently worked with Tom when he wrote an excellent study of “The Lord’s Prayer” for our PC(USA) curriculum, Being Reformed: Faith Seeking Understanding.

Gillespie was a scholarly pastor and a pastor-scholar. In addition to scholarly work in the area of New Testament, in which he received his Ph.D., Gillespie’s sermons and addresses to Princeton Seminary audiences appeared regularly in the Princeton Seminary Bulletin. Fortunately, we now have an archive of these pieces (http://digital.library.ptsem.edu/default.xqy?action=qsearch&terms=author:%22Thomas%20W.%20Gillespie%22). They are models of scholarship in the service of preaching, oriented to the church and to those seminarians, professors, and pastors who serve the church.

The title above, “There Be Dragons,” comes from an illustration in Gillespie’s 2004 Commencement Address which also carried this title (The Princeton Seminary Bulletin Vol. 25 No. 2 [2004];  http://digital.library.ptsem.edu/default.xqy?id=dmd005&action=view-src&uri=/METS/PSB2004252.xml ). Gillespie wrote that “at the time Christopher Columbus sailed west in search of a new world, his flat earth maps showed the ocean fading off into an unknown infinity. And at the edge of the ocean’s frontier were written the words, ‘Beyond this point there will be dragons.’” Gillespie continued: “Indeed, beyond the walls of this great cathedral chapel there be dragons waiting for you if you undertake Christian ministry” (Gillespie, 130).

I have been thinking of this phrase recently in relation to the developments in the terrible difficulties at Penn State University. We certainly know “there be dragons” at the “edge of the world”—beyond the frontiers—in the world “out there” where all kinds of terrorism, wars, and violence take place. We know the dragons there, are many.

But what of the “dragons” that can be real in nicer, safer environs—like a college campus, a small community? There the dragons can be dressed as ordinary people, with jobs, with positions of leadership in sports or with a charity. “There be dragons” there, too. It goes back to the famous statement of Pogo: “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

Evil and sin are within us and among us, no matter how “unlikely” we appear—as “dragons.” Reinhold Niebuhr taught us about the dangers of putting trust in institutions, even when they are inhabited by unlikely-appearing, “dragons.”  The Christian doctrine of “original sin” teaches we are all sinful. This sinfulness emerges, at times, even where all appears to be well, even in a “happy valley.”

The only remedy for all dragons is repentance, turning from sin, seeking forgiveness and justice for all the evils we perpetrate. When evil actions envelope the lives of others and ripple out in ever-widening rings, the repentance is harder, the quest for justice more difficult. But in the Christian context, it is our only hope. Repentance comes through the work of the Holy Spirit. Only because it does, can we have assurance that God forgives our sin.

None of this happens “automatically” or “lightly” or “casually.” Our repentance is a continuing process, as Calvin says. Our “restoration does not take place in one moment or one day or one year; but through continual and sometimes even slow advances,” Only God can wipe out our sin. Indeed, this warfare against sin “will end only at death” (Institutes 3.3.9).

“There be dragons,” far and near—too near—even within us and among us.

But Tom Gillespie left us with a word of hope. He drew on John of Patmos’ vision in Revelation 20:1-10. Gillespie acknowledged that “sometimes the dragon wins.” Yet he went on to say: “But remember, the dragon wins only sometimes, not always. And in the end, it is the dragon who is defeated—forever.” Jesus Christ is our only hope!

Celebrate "Thank a Youth Worker Day"

 

A Gathering Voices Post by Lara Blackwood Pickrel

 

Many of our faith communities are on a perpetual quest, constantly seeking out the hippest, freshest and (sometimes) best practices for Christian education - especially the education of our children and youth.   As a minister and educator who has had the occasion to both witness and participate in this never-ending search, I find it troubling. 

It's not that I have a problem with folks wanting the very best for our kids.  I wouldn't hitch my wagon to organizations/companies like The Thoughtful Christian, Chalice Press or nPartnership if I didn't believe that our Sunday school classes, confirmation programs, baptism preparation courses and youth groups need excellent resources.   They do.  That's not the issue.

It's also not that I disagree with our search for programs and curricula that are up to date and plugged into current issues, media, culture (pop or otherwise) and technology.  As translators of the Gospel, Christian educators have to stay on top of these things so that we can share the Word in vital, truthful, accessible and savvy ways.  We do.  That's not the issue either. 

So what's my beef with the great quest for the perfect program of the moment?  The problem is that it leaves out the people.  Whether it is recognized or not, most faith communities have a number of people who are involved in the lives and faith development of children and youth.  There are the obvious ones (the youth minister, youth sponsors and Sunday school teachers), and there are also those who slip under the radar: the choir director who leads a youth choir or teaches a child to play the chimes, the elder who sits and talks with that teen who never makes it inside the sanctuary for worship, the woman who provides snacks, the parent who does dishes after a youth meal or drives kids to camp.  Obvious and otherwise, all of these people who have a heart for young people often get overlooked or undervalued in the search for the hot program of the moment. 

More often than not, while the programs and canned VBS materials get glorified, the people who journey alongside our young people only get complaints.  If good money was spent on curriculum but the program isn't growing, then the fault is laid at the feet of the people - but when things are going well, little is done to nurture and support the folks who have been called to share their lives with our youngest Christians.  Sometimes, when things are going really well, our children's ministers and youth ministers are asked when they plan to venture on to "real ministry".  It's meant as a compliment, but can hurt all the same.

One way to remedy this imbalance is to actively appreciate the people who journey with our children and youth.   Appreciation can take any number of forms, but if you are needing a concrete first step you might consider celebrating "Thank a Youth Worker Day".  Though it is officially slated as November 3 of this year, it could also be turned into a Sunday celebration.  Print out the stickers (a template can be found on their official website) and give them to anyone and everyone who is involved in the life and education of children and youth in your community.  Name them in your worship service.  Affirm them and their ministry loudly and generously. 

This kind of support is so simple, but so important.  Because ministry with children and youth is as real as it gets.  If you don't believe it, try it.  We could use another set of hands!

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

 

A Gathering Voices Post by Lara Blackwood Pickrel

 

This week I had the privilege of joining a young church member and her family at the hospital while she underwent a minor surgery.  She was nervous, her parents were nervous – heck, I was nervous – and the two hour delay that cropped up before surgery only made the anxiety more palpable.  After all, they'd known that this procedure was coming for several weeks and, in the days immediately prior to it, they had already gone through a number of steps to prepare her for it.  There was plenty of time to get worked up, to let fear grow and spread itself around, pungent and thick. 

And then it was time.  We prayed with her and then walked alongside her rolling-bed to the door of the operating room, pausing to share a few more hugs and words of love before the nurse wheeled her through.   Now it was out of our hands – all we could do was wait with the other families in the waiting room, trust in the God-given and practice-honed skill of the doctors and nurses, and hope for the best. 

Tom Petty had it right.  The waiting really is the hardest part.  It is difficult in a hospital waiting room, and it is difficult throughout the rest of this life we share.  The tiny anticipations can be hard enough.  But if the minutes, hours or days spent waiting for a test result or a phone call can feel like an eternity, then it is all the more taxing when we’ve waited months for a job offer or years for the grief of a loved one’s death to fade away.  Patience may be a virtue, but I daresay that many of us wish it wasn’t necessary in the first place. 

There’s somethi  ng funny about patience though, something I was reminded of as we sat together in that waiting room full of strangers:  patience is as much an activity as it is a way of being.  Yes, there’s something to be said for an inherently calm, non-anxious heart in the midst of chaos – but most of us simply aren’t that person.  And though we may never be the unflappable ones in worrying times, we can be the ones who hold hands and sing songs, the ones who toss our heads back with big belly laughs even as unshed tears glisten in our eyes, the ones who listen to strangers’ stories with compassion  and keep our hands busy so that they won’t noticeably shake.   Or, like my young friend, we can be the one who makes a doll for her pastor while waiting for a procedure that terrifies her.  

Waiting can be a rough thing, especially for a people accustomed to a culture that values both expediency and immediacy.  Consequently, when serious waiting is required, the temptation is often to shut down, throw a fit or fill the time with unhealthy things.  But when we compensate for our lack of patience with a comforting touch, a shared joke or story, a listening nod, or a few creative strokes of the marker to fabric, all of a sudden: “voila!”  The wait is over.  It turns out we have patience after all.  And in the meantime, we’ve built beloved community in that terrifying, wonderful and fertile space between question and answer, past and future:  the present. 

What's Wrong with Old People Today?

It’s official.  I’m old.  If you need a definition, being older than the president is old!  He’s 50 and I’m 56.  I’m thrilled that he’s finally old enough to join AARP!  It was certainly a red-letter day for me.

I belong to the Baby Boomer generation.  It is said that we made being young a cult.  And we’ve certainly taken our share of licks over the years.  Comic George Carlin  sums up the collective take on Boomers pretty well, “The Baby Boomers: whiny, narcissistic, self-indulgent people with a simple philosophy: ‘Gimme that! It's mine!’”

But even as we Boomers bemoan the absence of young adults from our pews, many kvetch relentlessly about ‘them’ as if the young are a plague.

A simple test to get at what I mean:  Google “What’s wrong with young people today?” and you’ll get 6,790 results.  Google the opposite: “What’s right with young people today?” and you’ll get a mere 235 hits.  

Maybe we should be asking instead:  what’s wrong with old people asking so much about what’s wrong with young people? 

Comments I’ve heard recently include:  They’re rude, referring to young folks on their cell phones.  They’re socially incompetent, referring to the changes in social interaction wrought by the reality of instantaneous communication with those not physically present.  They’re dumbing down everything.   And technology is to blame.  Usually a list of supposed things young folk ‘can’t’ do follows.  Yet my own experience has introduced me to a generation of people who handle massive amounts of information in wonderful ways, synthesizing what they know virtually with what they experience in real time.  I learn from them.

So to those of my own generation, my list of things young people have taught me:

1.            Don’t’ be afraid to try.  So what if you hit the wrong button?  You’re not going to start a nuclear war by experimenting with your computer, cell phone or remote control.  Mistakes are not the end of the world.

2.            Sometimes you just have to lay down in the grass and stare at the sky.

3.            Hard work to no good purpose is no virtue.

4.            Rest is no vice.

5.            Friends matter - nurture them, spend time with them, love them.

6.            “Everything happens for a reason” isn’t an excuse; it’s a world view.

7.            Everything is connected and so is everyone.

8.            Knowledge cannot be owned and people shouldn’t try to hog it to themselves.  Shakespeare could not have survived in a world where knowledge is considered property to be owned.

9.            All the gadgets make the world and your place within it larger, not smaller.

10.          It matters to what and to whom you give your loyalty.  Cling to what lasts and hold loosely that which does not.

Maybe we boomers could be a wee bit more humble about our own generation and a lot more generous about others.

Just a suggestion.

Young adults are amoral heathens, but what's new?

A Gathering Voices post by Adam Copeland

This week’s Theology Pub, a gathering of 20/30-somethings The Project FM hosts at a local bar to talk about God and life, tackled the topic “Is my truth better than yours?” Though it came out a few days too late, David Brooks’ NY Times Op-Ed yesterday, “If it feels right” would have been great pre-reading.

Brooks builds his column on the work of Christian Smith and colleagues. Smith’s previous book, Souls in Transition: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of Emerging Adults has been on my wish list for some time. Now I’ll have to add his latest as well, Lost in Transition: The Dark Side of Emerging Adulthood.

In his column Brooks opines that young adults these days apparently lack the wherewithal to speak about moral issues. As someone who hosts conversations for young adults to speak about moral issues, two responses immediately come to mind. One: young adults who attend Theology Pub absolutely love speaking about moral issues. Two: we are not particularly well versed in how to speak about them.

I could blame this all on standardized testing in grade schools. I could complain about colleges requiring too few philosophy and ethics courses (grad schools too, for that matter). I could lambast parents for not passing along resources for taking on moral subjects. But I won’t.

What I will do, however, is refuse to blame young adults themselves for not having been given the resources to take on moral questions — it’s not their fault that faith communities, schools, and parents failed them. Let me repeat that: it doesn’t do us any good to blame 20 year-olds for not having the moral sensibilities we wish they had. (And Brooks, by the way, does well to refuse to do so — mostly.)

I look forward to reading Smith’s book, but I’ll do so uneasily. When I somehow find the time to pick it up, I’ll do so with this question at the forefront of my mind: Is it that young adults truly have fewer moral resources with which to deal with moral questions than previous generations, or is it that today’s questions are so much more complex that young adults need more skills and understanding to just tread water in our consumeristic pluralized technologically-advanced globalized world?

After all, it’s much easier to teach and theologize that “murder is wrong” than it is to discuss unmanned drone strikes in remote border areas of Afghanistan/Pakistan during an unfunded “war on terror” lasting over ten years.

image by Linden Laserna