Week 6 of 29: I Feel Something Drawing Me On

This week I traveled down from New York to Washington, with stops to visit with friends in Philadelphia and Baltimore. A couple of times along the way, I’ve had occasion to think about going back to someplace I’ve already been on this journey. For example, I waited to late to make an appointment with the my primary care physician for my check-up in Boston, so I planned to come back up to Boston March 18, the Tuesday after my weekend in New York. By the time I left the Bronx, I’d already begun to reconsider. I didn’t want to drive all that way back up, only to have to come all the way back down again. I thought about riding up, either on bus or on the train, but there was the question of where I was going to put my car where it would be safe and not in anyone’s way, let alone all the getting in and getting out of both cities. So I got clear that I wasn’t going back to Boston for that then, and headed on down to Philly for two days, and two nights.

The day after I landed in Baltimore, I got a call from a friend and comrade I’d hoped to see in Philly who hadn’t gotten my message until after I’d left. The ride from Philly to Baltimore isn’t terribly far – it can be done in less than two hours – and I didn’t know when I would be through that way again. I thought about driving up to Philly for lunch and then coming back down directly into DC. As much as I wanted to catch up with my comrade, I chose to keep heading South.

In the Bible, as the angels of the Lord were leading Lot and his family out of Sodom and Gomorrah, Lots wife turned and looked back, and became a pillar of salt. No one knows what or who she was looking for – only that she was immobilized, unable to continue on the flight from the doomed cities.

I’m thinking about the many things in my life that I might choose to redo or undo. “If I could turn back time,” as Cher’s been known to sing. But so much of nature seems to be forward also. The rotation of the planet, the orbit of the earth around the sun, the turning of the seasons … all forward, without turning back.

To everything, there is a season, as is written in Ecclesiastes, and I’m training myself to bring discernment to the time to act and not to act. In a conversation a friend had with me shortly before I left Boston, he told me about the advice he had gotten from his grandmother. She told him to follow his soul, rather than his heart. The point was that the heart inclined toward sentiment and is capable of being swayed by circumstances and appearances. The soul is the home of clarity that sees what’s behind sentiment, circumstances and appearances. The heart often leads with some version of “you should”, where the soul, when we tune into it, has a clear yes or no. Often, it is a preverbal, gut response. Maybe not what the heart wants to hear, but in my experience, that’s all the more reason to pay attention.

So, I'm pressing forward. Sometimes without a clear idea of what the next stop is, but trusting in grace just the same. I'm completing a blessed weekend in the DC area, where I've reconnected with old and faithful friends, attended two Easter services -- one at the church where I had my call into ministry, and the other a Presbyterian church attended by some of my "home people." It's really amazing to have the experience of having stepped into a time warp. Very few of the faces I saw I my old church were familiar to me. My former pastors were still there, but just about everyone else I would have remembered seemed to be gone or absent. The last time I was at a service there was at least a decade ago.

The energy and vibrancy of the place, and passion of the community kept me coming back. It was good to be there on Easter Sunday, to reconnect with the spirit of generosity and inspiration that gave me my life in the ministry. Like Barack Obama in relationship to his former pastor, I don't agree with or believe everything my former pastors have to say, but I still honor them for the gifts they gave to me and their ministry, which extends to countless thousands of people.

I was just outside Philadelphia when Barack delivered his address on race last Tuesday. I admire the way he addressed the complexities of his life and put them in context, though I don't think it's fair that he is now the lightning rod for all of our country's anxieties, hopes, pain and frustration regarding some of the ugliest chapters in our history. Fortunately for us all, he's been exceedingly competent and respectful in the midst of so many attacks.

Week 5+: "How to Lead" Sermon

After my March 16 sermon at the Central Unitarian Church in Paramus, New Jersey, I told one of the congregants I would post it online. She was very interested in some of the sources I quoted. If you are reading this and you made that request, please drop a line back to let me know you got it. Thanks!

“How to Lead”: A Sermon
by Rev. Carlton Elliott Smith
Central Unitarian Church
Paramus, New Jersey
Sunday, March 16, 2008


The reading I am sharing with you this morning is taken from a sermon given by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., entitled “The Drum Major Instinct.” He preached it at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, February 4, 1968, just two months before his assassination on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis.

He begins the sermon with a reading from the Gospel of Mark, in which two of Jesus’ disciples, James and John, are asking to be seated at Jesus’ right and left when he is in his full glory, as King of Kings and Lord of Lords, one might say. Jesus tells them that he doesn’t get to say who gets to sit there, but that those choice seats will be given those for whom they are prepared. Jesus concludes by saying, “Whosoever would be great among you shall be your servant: and whosoever would be the chiefest, shall be servant to all.”
Dr. King describes James and John’s desire to be close to Jesus in his glory as the “drum major instinct.” The desire to be the center of attention, to be admired and held in high regard. He points out how from a child’s first cry, that instinct is present, and follows us through all the days of our lives. He talks about the implications of it in families, in communities, in churches, and among ethic groups, particularly among blacks and whites.
Then, he goes on to talk about the implications of the Drum Major Instinct on the international level. This March as we mark five years since the U.S. invasion of Iraq, I’m grateful for the powerful witness of Dr. King speaking to us through the decades, with astonishing pertinence.

What was the answer that Jesus gave these men? It's very interesting. One would have thought that Jesus would have condemned them. One would have thought that Jesus would have said, "You are out of your place. You are selfish. Why would you raise such a question?"
But that isn't what Jesus did; he did something altogether different. He said in substance, "Oh, I see, you want to be first. You want to be great. You want to be important. You want to be significant. Well, you ought to be. If you're going to be my disciple, you must be." But he reordered priorities. And he said, "Yes, don't give up this instinct. It's a good instinct if you use it right. It's a good instinct if you don't distort it and pervert it. Don't give it up. Keep feeling the need for being important. Keep feeling the need for being first. But I want you to be first in love. I want you to be first in moral excellence. I want you to be first in generosity. That is what I want you to do."
And he transformed the situation by giving a new definition of greatness. And you know how he said it? He said, "Now brethren, I can't give you greatness. And really, I can't make you first." This is what Jesus said to James and John. "You must earn it. True greatness comes not by favoritism, but by fitness. And the right hand and the left are not mine to give, they belong to those who are prepared.”

And so Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That's a new definition of greatness.
And this morning, the thing that I like about it: by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great, because everybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace, a soul generated by love. And you can be that servant.

A friend of mine who is an executive coach recently introduced me to a concept of leadership that dovetailed nicely with our theme today. In January 2001, Jim Collins, published an article in the Harvard Business Review entitled, “Level 5 Leadership: The Triumph of Humility and Fierce Resolve.” In it, he presented the findings from a five-year study that he and his team of researchers did of companies that went from being good to great. Out of the hundreds of companies they reviewed, there were only 11 companies that met the criteria. While there were many factors that contributed to each company’s inclusion, the single common denominator among them was that each of them had a Level 5 Leader as its chief executive officer. A Level 5 Leader, as defined by Collins, is one that “builds enduring greatness through a paradoxical combination of personal humility plus professional will.” A full-fledged Level 5, also described as an “Executive”, incorporates all the other levels of leadership, though not necessarily in any sequential order. That’s to say, she or he is also a highly capable individual, a contributing team member, a competent manager, and an effective leader. But what is necessary for a company to transform from being good to great is someone at the highest level of influence with that combination of humility and fierce resolve.
How does that humility manifest itself among Level 5 Leaders? According to Collins, they shun public adulation, and are not boastful. They act with quiet determination, relying principally on inspired standards, not inspiring charisma, to motivate. They channel their ambitions into the company, not the self, and prepare their successors for even greater successes than they themselves knew. They take the responsibility for poor performance onto themselves, and don’t blame other people, external factors, or bad luck. When success comes, they give credit to other people, external factors and good luck.

Those who lead businesses are expected to have fierce resolve, to persevere toward their goals. That’s not surprising. But that the most exceptional leaders, the ones that take their companies from good to great, have great personal humility … that is something of a revelation.
By contrast, consider the celebrity CEOs or elected officials who turn companies around or do exceptional work for their constituents, and then being pursuing their own transformation. All of a sudden, they are on talk shows, promoting their books, and making a name for themselves, sometimes at the expense of those they were initially hired or elected to serve. The pull toward self-aggrandizement is immense, especially in a competitive culture like ours where personal achievement and individual accomplishment indicate our value, our net worth. Yet what would be available if instead of following the herd in the direction of self-importance and gratification, we heard Dr. King’s call to love, and to the words attributed to the Apostle Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians to heart? These words:

[I Corinthians 13: 1-13]
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love keeps no record of wrongs; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.
For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away.
When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood.
So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

There will always be the scandal of the week. There will always be a new opportunity for us to turn a judgmental eye toward our brother or our sister. Indeed there are times when we find ourselves in the midst of controversy, in the midst of cognitive dissonance between our professed ideals and what’s so about how we choose to live our lives. This past week is no different, as we saw another politician, this time the governor of the State of New York, caught in a web of his own making, the conflict inside his own heart played out on the national – and by extension, international – stage.
It’s a good time to reflect upon leadership, and to consider ancient wisdom handed down to us through the ages. One of the values of being in a Unitarian Universalist setting is the willingness to hear the ring of truth from whatever source it originates. As someone ordained and called to lead Unitarian Universalist congregations, I’ve become increasingly appreciative over the years of the wisdom to be found in the Taoist tradition. Lao Tzu, believed to have written the Tao de Ching more than 2000 years ago, is said to have been seeking a way of avoiding constant feudal warfare and the other societal conflicts of his time. He wrote to provide leaders with some framework, some context for how they might understand themselves in their roles and in relationship to those they governed.
Hear this translation of Cheng Hsuan’s commentary on being a true human, as quoted in Alan Watts’ Tao: The Watercourse Way:

For a long time it has been difficult to find examples of true humans. Only the superior human can reach that state. Therefore the superior human does not try to criticize people for what he himself fails in, and he does not put people to shame for what they fail in … One who is not a true human cannot long stand poverty, nor can he stand prosperity for long. A true human is happy and natural living according to the principles of true humanity, but a [merely] wise person thinks it is advantageous to do so … The superior human goes through life without any preconceived course of action or any taboo. She merely decides for the moment what is the right thing to do … the goody-goodies are the thieves of virtue.

Which, I think, delivers us to the door of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. In a few weeks, on April 4, the world will observe the 40th anniversary of Dr. King’s assassination. What made him a superior leader was that we remember him for his extraordinary commitment to the cause of justice and equality. We know now of his extramarital relationships, yet we do not experience him as a hypocrite, because he didn’t criticize people for what he himself failed in, and certainly didn’t call for their punishment.

Instead, we celebrate his faithfulness to the cause of justice and equality, not just regarding ethnic groups, but also with regards to the Vietnam War, even unto death. Dr. King has become an incarnation of what Joseph Campbell called the Hero with a Thousand Faces – like Jesus, whose passion story will be remembered and celebrated by Christians around the globe this week as we approach Easter. He was called to perform challenging work, specifically to lead a people into a new world of freedom and possibility. He encountered dangers along the way. Though he lost his life in the end, what he gave others through his life and death continues to be a gift to the world. His extraordinary contributions were possible because his speech matched his actions.

One way to lead is to lead through excellence.

In our present evolutionary state as a movement, as Unitarian Universalists we don’t venerate Jesus as any more divine or any less human than anyone else. We do acknowledge his ability to be an instrument of peace, love and forgiveness, and an exemplar that we can learn from.
Jesus was a servant leader. And where others might focus on the part of the story where Jesus is said to have risen from the dead three days after his burial in a borrowed tomb, I choose to focus this week on what he did before he was taken away to be judged, tortured and crucified.
The custom in ancient times was for guest in a home to have the dust washed from their feet after they entered a host’s home. Jesus, the leader of those 12 followers, put on servant’s clothes, and with a basin, knelt down to wash the feet of those he led. This really threw the disciples off. “Why are you doing this?” “I’m not going to let you wash my feet!” These were some of their responses. Their leader’s place was not to be at their feet. He was too good for that, or so they thought.

Yet that was Jesus’s whole point. If he as their leader was willing to be their servant, should they not then serve one another?

Those of us who would lead would serve. We would put aside our historic privilege, and in the spirit of gratitude, contribute to the lives of others, even in the humblest way. We would even put aside our historic oppression, based on gender, ethnicity, physical ability, age, sexual and relational preferences, and other factors, to have free space in our hearts for a love for others that transcends all our illusions of separation from one another. We would have what Martin Luther King, Jr., had – a heart full of love, and a soul generated by grace.

Lead through love.

One of my fondest childhood memories involves picking my father up from the airport. He was often away on business, and my mother, my brothers and I would go to meet him at the gate where the plane would land (back in the 70s, you could still do that). One time, we went to meet him, and there was a young man there at his side. The young man was an immigrant from the Middle East, I think Iran or Iraq, and somehow my father had met him in flight. He spoke maybe three words of English, but that was it. My father put him in the car with us, and we drove back to my house, where we called the man’s brother. After about an hour or so, the brother showed up at our house. He was very happy to see his sibling and grateful to my father for helping make the connection.

I never in all my life forgot this experience. It was an occasion for me to see generosity in action. There was no immediate benefit to my father of having reached out to the man. It was just his commitment to be true to his faith that had him act in that way. Within a decade or so, my father would become the first African American mayor of my hometown, and his leadership style would be the same. Not seeking his own gain or trying to grow his own reputation, but having a deep and profound commitment to providing service to the community and to the world. I know I could never repay him for what he showed me about how to relate to other people, but I will never forget, either.

Lead through generosity.
Lead through love.
Lead through excellence.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers on the nature of leadership and how it can be done. In the end, in fact, all I have are the words and examples of others that have inspired me, and made a difference in my life. And, in our tradition where we value questions as much if not more than answers, I have questions for you:

What would the world be like if the United States of America as a country was a drum major for love? How would the lives of children, women and men near and far shift if we Unitarian Universalists recommitted ourselves to excellence, and brought our convictions into greater alignment with our actions? Now quietly pause to think: What is one thing I could do today to express my leadership as a servant to others, though love, excellence and generosity? Am I willing to do that one thing?

You can be that servant.
You are the one we’ve been waiting for.
Blessed be, and amen.

© 2008 by Carlton Elliott Smith. All rights reserved.

Week 5 of 29: Who am I? Where am I?

March 9. I’m grappling more with what it means not to be a minister at First Parish of Arlington anymore. I was glad to be at the [Sunday morning] service … Butch’s memorial service went well. The lights went out in the middle of it. “Butch?” I wondered aloud. It was just the kind of glitch that would happen on a Sunday morning, and he would jump up and find out what was going on.

March 10. I met with a colleague at a downtown nonprofit for an informational interview about employment options as I consider the possibility of not being in a parish this fall.

March 11. Moved some storage from one friend’s home to the basement where all the rest of my boxes are. Rearranged and repacked my bags, and was on the road by late afternoon. Arrived at friends in Connecticut right around dinner time.

March 12. A more or less laid-back day in Connecticut, grazing by the refrigerator. Learned all about the adventures of someone in my extended circle of friends now living in Rio. I would like to visit there someday … Also, I’m getting in touch with appreciation for Michelle Obama. I admire Barack’s intelligence, competence and vision, but I identify more with Michelle as someone born and bred thick in African American community and culture, who as an adult walks between and among a wide variety of communities and cultures.

March 13. I wash clothes, have breakfast and leave for the Bronx around 12:30. A friend helps me get my boxes and luggage from the interior of the car, as to leave it parked on the street with all those things in it might be to invite a break-in. Two and a half flights! I hadn’t though of this implication of traveling across country with a car full of stuff. I’m noticing how I keep folding up my life to fit into new contexts.

March 14. A late breakfast with my gracious host, then, after help lugging all those boxes and suitcases back downstairs, I head to my next stop.

March 15. Mostly a day of touring in New York, and I spend the evening fine-tuning my sermon for the next day. I wanted to shave my head, but I had forgotten to charge my clippers. I was scared the power would give out when I was only half done, so I didn’t do it.

Week 4 of 29: Farewell to the Cape/Back to Beantown

Photo: Sunset at Herring Beach Cove, Provincetown (c) 2008 by C. E. Smith

One of the most immediately useful gifts I received as I was leaving Arlington was a Book of Days featuring quotes and photos of the pottery of Brother Thomas. I’m going to borrow from what I wrote there to “catch up” here, starting from the day after my last blog entry:

March 5: Today I met our neighbor, whom I’ll call Charity, an 80-year-old who lives in a house on the other side of the fence. She’s been there for 71 years. What a fount of wisdom and New England-style pluck. I need to do some writing just on the insight she dropped on me … I had a great bike ride all the way out Bradford, past the West End and into the National Park at Herring Cove Beach. Two of Tony’s friends from the coffee and dessert shop where he writes came over for dinner.

March 6: I got caught up from the past several days of not writing in this book. I went for another long ride, this time via Commercial Street to the wetlands and then to Herring Cove Beach. It was splendid – and cold. I needed gloves and a scarf at least, and was wearing neither … now it’s time for me to pack and move on. “Never harbor or port have I known.” The discovery of the day: Riding down Commercial, I heard this beautiful voice and music coming out of a little music store. I went in and asked the clerk, “Who is that?” It was Stacey Kent, and the cd was Breakfast on the Morning Tram. I bought it immediately. To get a sample, visit www.staceykent.com. Warning: I’m now addicted to this artist, and you may become an addict, too.

March 7: A very laid-back day for the most part. I ate breakfast, trying to help clean out the fridge … Tony and I dined at Ciro & Sal’s for our last meal on our last night. It was almost empty. I wistfully looked into the windows of the museums I hadn’t visited on Commercial Street that I wouldn’t see on this trip.

March 8: The rain poured all day long. I forgot and left my umbrella at the cottage, but I didn’t realize it until I was dropping Tony off at the Amtrak station at Back Bay. The good thing is that now, I can see an umbrella as a recurring metaphor/symbol to carry from the start of the novel until the end.

(c) 2008 by Carlton Elliott Smith. All rights reserved.

Herring Cove Beach, Sunset 6 Mar 08

Week 3.3 of 29: The Guest House

photos by C.E. Smith, from inside the Provincetown Public Library, a converted church building that houses a 50% scale model of the Rose Dorothea, winner of the 1907 Fisherman's Cup












Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
-- Jalal ud-Din Rumi

I came across this quote in the margins of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I am looking these days at the cost of being clever, particularly as it pertains to whatever my next settled position or long-term work might be. If I trade in cleverness in pursuit of that work, I will be relying upon tactics that bring about results, rather than coming from a more heart-centered place.

Cleverness can sometimes be useful. I remember my extended stay in Paris after I finished my undergraduate degree. One day as I was walking down the street, I realized a man was following me from about 50 paces behind. I didn’t know who he was or why he was on my trail, but I knew I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want him following me to where I lived. How could I manage the situation that was honoring of my intention and the least confrontational?

I went down into the Metro, and a train pulled up to the platform. I got on the train, and he got on a few doors further back. Just as the horn sounded and the doors began to close, I stepped back out onto the platform. He didn’t react quickly enough, so I watched the train carry him off to the next stop while I went back upstairs out of the station to finish my walk home. Then in my very early 20s, I had impressed myself with my cleverness.

I’m not always so effective in bringing about a desired result. What I see these days is that cleverness can simply be a way of controlling or attempting to control a situation when I feel afraid or vulnerable, rather than making space for the fear and the vulnerability and what they offer. Instead of trying to avoid them, I see the opportunity to sit with them, and be bewildered. Hm. I wonder what brings the two of you here today? And then being willing to listen patiently for a response.

Yesterday, I went for a nice long bike ride on Route 6A, from the East End of P’town to the junction of 6A and 6 in north Truro. The day started out sunny, with the light reflecting beautifully on the waves of the Bay. My face was to the wind, and it took effort and will to keep peddling up the hills, with the promise of some flat land (or even better, a declining slope) ahead. One of my childhood fantasies was to bike from one small town to another, and discover a community I’d never seen before. This was that fantasy coming to life. I came to a crossroads, where there was the Christian Union Church. A little further up the road, I stopped and sat on a bench, and I was going to write there for a while, but then, I started feeling afraid and vulnerable. The sky had clouded over -- What if it started to rain? I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood. How would I get back?

So rather than rest, I began to peddle back. Then I remembered that there was the little post office, and just across the church was an old-time country store that was open where I might be able to take shelter. I kept on peddling, though, until I was back in my familiar East End surroundings.

Four days from now, we’ll be back on the road, and en route to Boston. I’m grateful for this time to catch my breath a bit, and get ready for what’s next. I’m glad for the freedom I’ve given myself just to write, not holding tightly to what I’m “supposed” to be doing, but giving myself the space to see what is emerging. Making space to be bewildered.

One of my favorite Rumi poems is “The Guest House”, which is a particularly relevant metaphor since I’ve been in this lovely condo these past two weeks:

This being human is a guest house, Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

Welcome, guides and friends … welcome to you all.