September 14, 2016 No comments

On Turning 60.

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I turned 60 today. Happy birthday me!

And my brother. His name is Steve. We were born on the same day six years apart. He was the first child. I was the last. Perfect bookends. He remains everyone’s big brother. I remain everyone’s little brother. That is one thing that 60 years hasn’t changed.

People say that chronological age doesn’t matter. Once I got north of 50 I got a lot more of those “you’re as young as you feel!” comments. God bless them. But y’know that’s true. Like when I have a sore back after home or yard work. Like when I go to comb my hair and realize that there’s not much there to comb. Not much there to “feel.” But “feeling” isn’t just physical.  I still find most things “amazing!”  I haven’t lost my wonder. My curiosity of things only grows. While I could probably lose a few physical pounds, I haven’t lost an ounce of mirth. So yes, by that measure I’m still quite young.

60.

Big deal?

Not really. Birthdays in general were never a big deal growing up. That came courtesy of being raised by parents of midwestern farmers who grew up in the Great Depression. “Just another day” my Dad would shrug. And he was right. After today there’s the 14th. Then another number. And a day. All those Thursdays and Fridays and Mondays. Months. Seasons. Years. They begin to blend in quickly. Birthdays are a blip. A rain drop in life’s ocean.

60.

Big deal?

Well, sorta. I’m certainly in no danger of having a mid-life crisis. That is now a chronological impossibility. Perhaps a pre-retirement crisis. With each year that passes the whisper of mortality becomes a bit louder. Something to be mindful of. No reason to freak out. Just mindful. Lot of talk about that these days. Mindfulness, that is. Everyone says it is a good thing. Health and culture gurus declare it a medicinal and therapeutic power. If so, then I figure there’s no sin in being mindful of the fact that you are 60 and not 16. Or some other age. People say you shouldn’t dwell on how old you are. Perhaps they are right. Don’t dwell. Be mindful.

60.

Good time to step back and take stock of things.  Birthdays do that. It has been a good ride. A few hills and valleys. Luckily more of the former than the latter. Perhaps not luck at all. I have been blessed. God has been ever patient and forgiving with me. I don’t know why. I’m not better than others. I’m as flawed as the next. I have my issues. God has helped me through them.

And my family? Where do I begin? Sanderijn? My siblings? My children? Their spouses? The nephews and grandchildren? The whole community of friends past and present.  Folks who I haven’t seen for years but who still give me occasional shout outs and words of encouragement.  I write words but think in faces, relationships, shared experiences, deep affection and thankfulness. Just thinking about them and my 60-year-old eyes get watery. They do that more these days. Watery 60-year-old-eyes. There’s a change. I’m good with that.

60.

Good time to think about tomorrow.  Birthdays do that too. I figure it is a sprint to the final. Maybe not a 20-something sprint to the final. As I remember those were fantastically chaotic. They often had the wrong finish line. Or no finish line at all! Perhaps more of a 60-year-old type sprint to the final. Methodical but determined. A sprint with some narrowing. A sprint with some leavening. A sprint interrupted occasionally with a good book, a meaningful conversation, a loving smile. And a sprint where the finish line is clear and bright.

Finish line?  My Juicebar editor tried to take me out of that one. A bit macabre? A downer? No, the finish line for me isn’t a place or a time. The prophet Micah famously wrote that all God requires is for you to “act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

That, to me, is not a bad finish line. Regardless of how old I am. So we keep going.
August 25, 2016 No comments

As You Go Through Life

For all the lovers of poetry out there. I was rummaging through some old files and came across my father’s favorite. Poem that is. Even though he knew it line-by-line he kept a crumpled copy stuffed away in a bulging leather wallet. Going through our family record I saw an original that he had typed out on an old Remington typewriter. I read it again for the first time. To know this poem is to know my Father. Humble. Direct. Wisdom drawn from experience. Appropriately titled: “As you go through life.”

Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind
And look for the virtue behind them.
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light
Somewhere in its shadows hiding;
It is better by far to hunt for a star,
Than the spots on the sun abiding.

The current of life runs ever away
To the bosom of God’s great ocean.
Don’t set your force ‘gainst the river’s course
And think to alter its motion.
Don’t waste a curse on the universe –
Remember it lived before you.
Don’t butt at the storm with your puny form,
But bend and let it go o’er you.

The world will never adjust itself
To suit your whims to the letter.
Some things must go wrong your whole life long,
And the sooner you know it the better.
It is folly to fight with the Infinite,
And go under at last in the wrestle;
The wiser man shapes into God’s plan
As water shapes into a vessel.
April 12, 2016 1 Comment

Courthouse

gavel

Recently I spent a day at the Fairfax County Courthouse. Six months ago a couple of young kids in the neighborhood stole my briefcase. I had left it in the car, unlocked. Shame on me. Police found the briefcase bereft of the easily sold electronics.  The police also (eventually) found the two boys. They were being tried in juvenile court.  In Fairfax County victims are subpoenaed to testify. So I came, though I never made it into the courtroom.  The defendants settled before they ever had a trial. Two counts, felony theft.

So I spent the day sitting and watching.

Life plays out hard in Juvenile Court.  There are the defiant and presumably ‘don’t care’ teens that sit stone faced and sullen next to parents and guardians.  There are the anxious adults who lean into conversations across from detectives and lawyers. Then there are children.  The little ones who sit, squirm, fidget and sometime get loud, oblivious to the nature of their surroundings or the consequences of what might happen next.   

Blue collars far outnumber white collars in Juvenile Court. You see uniforms of the working class … maids, gardeners, medical assistants, and construction workers.  But mostly you see moms, anxious and bewildered moms wondering how they got here, what is going to happen to their child, and what, if anything, they can do about it.

The lawyers match their clients.  They wear Burlington Coat Factory suits. They walk in scruffy shoes.  They write with BIC pens. They seem like earnest people.  There are the jaded comments, of course. “Can you believe what this dumb kid did … ? Then this girl got up and …”.  I would not characterize the comments as harmless, but they seemed to betray more befuddlement than condemnation.

Every now and then there’s a nod of respect.  I heard a detective marvel at the ingenuity of two teenagers who were able to dislodge an ATM machine from a small strip mall and haul it home via a stolen golf cart.  “You gotta hand it to them,” he said. There was nodding around the table. 

These are the public defenders and social workers that see the burglaries, the drug deals, and the petty and sometimes serious crimes every day. They’re not the sophisticated crimes of television.  

But most of what you see or hear is the sad stuff. The stupid crimes.  The careless crimes.  The unnecessary crimes.  All the more stupid because they risk the life trajectory of a young teenager.  They are someone’s child.  But that “someone” becomes unclear for a moment. Then things go wrong. So they end up in Juvenile Court.

The Courthouse is a place of anxiety. The atmosphere is one of anticipation. But not the anticipation of victory.  Rather anticipation of a decision that will either provide relief (often temporary) or continued sadness.

It is a place of contrasts. There are those who make the decisions and those who follow and are affected by them.  There are those with authority and those who must submit to that authority.  There are the burly police, the armed guards, the detectives and prosecutors … Then there are the haggard parents, the scared and sometimes insolent children, the bewildered immigrant families.

But most of all, it is a place of consequences. It is a place of harvest. But not the kind we celebrate at Thanksgiving.  Actions have consequences. The courthouse reaps the behaviors that individuals and societies have sowed. It is part justice, part karma. But a better metaphor might be a force of nature. The Courthouse is like gravity. When something is pushed off a ledge or let go, it falls.

People fall too. And when they fall, they end up here.
December 29, 2015 No comments

A Marlowe Christmas

Christmas Presents

We had a wonderful Christmas. Like in many households, we have the common practice of unwrapping one present at a time, then another. Sometimes each unwrapping is punctuated by individualized explanatory gratefulness:

“Oh this is perfect … what I’ve always wanted!”

“Oh how wonderful and beautiful …!”

“Oh my, you shouldn’t have …!”

Sometimes someone will even get out of their seat or chair, step and reach over and give someone a hug and kiss. Tell them “I love you.” Tell them “this means a lot.” But then it soon goes to the next present. And the next. And the next. Then the next.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Then it’s over.

But not with my 2 ½ year-old-grandson Marlowe.

This Christmas he had a small mountain of gifts. The first was a 5” plastic green Tyrannosaurus Rex. It could have come from the Dollar Store but no matter. He didn’t really know who it was from, but that was no matter either.

All Marlowe knew was that it was the most wonderful, fun and fantastic of all gifts ever imaginable!

Any lack of personal gratitude was offset by Marlowe’s perfect and complete enjoyment of this simple piece of wonder…

He was thoroughly and perfectly engrossed in the joy of a 5” plastic green Tyrannosaurus Rex who was now – with the help of Marlowe’s inexhaustible imagination – greedily cannibalizing a bowl of sweets, bravely defending himself against attacks from candles and ornaments, and confidently challenging any and all imaginary threats.

Marlowe’s T-Rex held dominion over the Johnson living room coffee table all Christmas morning.

Marlowe was so caught up with the joy and ecstasy of one simple gift, he didn’t seem to need another. The Christmas morning ended with many of Marlowe’s presents still wrapped.

We can learn a lot from Marlowe.

Most of the time we accept gifts. Perhaps we even take the time to express thanks. But before we even have time to enjoy one gift we’re off looking for something else. Looking for another present to unwrap.

Never fully benefitting from the wonder of any one thing, we look to unwrap something new.

We should all be more like Marlowe. When a gift comes we should revel in it. Lose ourselves in it. Forget about “what’s next” and enjoy “what’s there.”

That is the true spirit of Christmas.

 

 

Image: Christmas Presents by Ravi Shah (CC license 2.o)
September 30, 2015 1 Comment

Lessons from Francis

pope francis

A few weeks ago I wrote a piece titled “Explaining Trump.” It was my struggle to understand the success behind Trump’s political communications. With the end of his first visit to the United States, I thought it would be a refreshing alternative to consider communications  lessons from Pope Francis.  Surely if we can learn from “the Donald” then there must be lessons we can learn from “the Holy Father.”

I was able to follow Francis’ visit closely. I was on the south lawn of the White House when Francis was received by President Obama.  I watched his parade down Pennsylvania Avenue.  I watched his appearances before Congress, at the United Nations, at Madison Square Garden.

 

We can learn a lot of things from Pope Francis. I’ll mention three.

 

Speak clearly.  Francis was right about his English pronunciation.  It isn’t very good. Awful, really. But that didn’t hide a clarity of purpose.  Francis speaks plainly. His concepts are simple. The primacy of love. The beauty of life. The dignity of humanity. We should help those who need help. We should protect the vulnerable. We should empower the honorable. We should care for each other. And he speaks not just with words but also with deeds. Sleep in a simple room. Ride in a Fiat. Wear comfortable shoes.

 

We can all learn from this. Business, like life, is difficult. But it isn’t all that complicated. Amidst obfuscation all around us, clarity is refreshing.  Clarity energizes while it soothes. When we speak clearly and simply, people take notice.  They smile. Even more so when your clarity is not just in what you say, but how you live out each day.

 

Observe intently. Francis is observant. He engages with purposefulness. He sees the small immigrant girl being shuffled away in a parade and calls out to her. He looks into the eyes of a homeless person and then washes his feet. He laughs and jokes with the school children. He reaches out and playfully tousles a young person’s hair. When before a joint session of Congress, Francis said he was not there to “preach”, he was not there to “address,” he was there to “dialogue.” (Which is a very ambitious thing to do with this U.S. Congress!)

 

We fail to communicate when we fail to observe.  When we are self-absorbed, self-obsessed and otherwise self-occupied we fail to see, understand, and connect with those around us. We all would benefit from less communicating and more dialoguing.

 

Love recklessly. Finally, Francis is a reminder of the power of passion and love. I find it impossible to separate what Francis says and who Francis is from his passion, enthusiasm and devotion. There is a winsomeness to his heartfelt affection and concern for the “others”. And not just some “others.” All “others.” Francis is the antithesis of targeted communications. When you see him and listen to him you get the sense that no one – regardless of station – is beyond his reach.

 

We live in a world suffocating from exclusivity. We micro-target ourselves to the point of isolation. By defining our identity so precisely, we lose sense of who we really are.  By appealing to a targeted few, we appeal to no one in general.  We would all do better by rethinking our disdain for the “lowest common denominator.”  Perhaps the lowest common denominator is, in fact, our highest calling.

 

So there it is.  The next strategic communications plan for the next client.  Speak clearly. Observe intently. Love recklessly. It seems to be working for Francis.
September 10, 2015 No comments

Explaining Trump

Donald Trump

I’ve tried hard not to write this. The one thing this world may need least, is yet another article on Donald J. Trump. I go to work and there’s Trump.  I drive home and I listen to the radio and it is all about Trump. I go home and turn on TV and there’s Trump. I go on vacation to the places FAR away from Washington DC and there he is – TRUMP!  I confess to Trump exhaustion. He follows me everywhere. My wife and I can’t even talk about it.

So consider this a catharsis. A Trump exorcism. A purge. You may not agree with anything that follows. And if you don’t please don’t be angry with me. Know that I’m just trying to explain the unexplainable and somehow understand the unfathomable. No, I’m not talking about the origins of creation and the existence of God. I’m talking about the small, remote and horrifying chance of Donald J. Trump becoming president of the United States.

So let’s get started. How do we explain what is happening to us?

I would suggest starting with one of the best articles I’ve read to date on this phenomenon – a piece by David Gergen. It is about narcissism and leadership. It is very well written and well researched. I think starting with narcissism is a good and appropriate place when trying to understand and explain the Trump phenomenon. I would only add that while there’s a historical nexus between narcissism and leadership, there’s a human nexus as well. We all have our inner Trump. We all have our “Hey, look at me!” “Hey, ain’t I great!” “Hey, if you gave me that problem I’d fix it so fast it would make your head spin!”

So with our own “inner Trump” in mind, lesson one (and perhaps the most controversial).  Personableness can get you far.

I understand if you might take issue with the premise that Donald Trump is “personable.” How can you label as “personable” someone who calls immigrants “rapists” and liberal women that he doesn’t like “fat” “ugly” and “stupid”? And then there’s Megyn Kelly.

But notice how Trump will, in the same breath, match every critique with a back slap.

Jeb Bush is “weak”, “low energy”, and “a puppet”. Bush is also a “good guy”, “wonderful man”, “I like him.”

Illegal aliens are “rapists”, “thugs” and “thieves”. Oh, but “I love Mexicans and the Mexican people.”

China is “sucking us dry” and at the same time “I love them too … they stay in my hotels!”

Perhaps the only thing that both friends and enemies agree on about Trump is that when you are dealing with him individually he is a very “genial” guy. At a personal level, “the Donald” is engaging, witty, and yes, even generous. Beneath his braggadocio is a certain folksy personableness.

This trait can get you far. And it isn’t new.

A lot of people loved the folksy, genial, Ronald Reagan even as he was vilifying impoverished mothers as “welfare queens” and ripping solar panels off the roof of the White House. Reagan was about the most anti-union president we’d had, yet he won the labor vote.  Why? Perhaps one reason is that he seemed so personable.

Second, Trump underscores the societal focus on the inflated self.  He is a logical outworking of our diminished appreciation of moderation, modesty and humility.  All three qualities were once considered attributes of character and virtue.  They were things we exalted. The strong, silent, self-effacing hero. Those days seem far away.  We have traded our John Waynes and Clint Eastwoods for the fast-talking, wise-cracking, over-the-top and modestly vulgar.

To be sure we have always had gadflies and the delightful fringe. We’ve seen value in the quirky and those on the outside who dared speak “truth to power.”

But we have eviscerated the moderate middle. In politics, we voted out moderates like Dick Lugar and Mary Landrieu. The moderate elected officials who had been successful – folks like Evan Bayh and Mitch Daniels – have simply walked away rightly figuring there are better things to do with their time than try and fiddle with the mess that is the American polity.

We have penalized the thoughtful and heaped praise on the cock-sure. When we vilify compromise, make all politics personal, and chase away the majority of people who have a real spirit of public service, what we get is Donald J. Trump.

Finally, Trump shows us the sad dysfunction of news media.

I have friends both inside and outside of the news media and if you get them alone for a moment, most agree. The news media is dying.  Or if not dying it is morphing into something unrecognizable. It is adrift, either caught up in its own pursuit of a political agenda (Fox vs. MSNBC), chasing the latest tweet, or simply devoid of a filter of decency and decorum.

It is good that years ago they built something called a Newseum. At least you can still find good journalism somewhere.  Trump is an avatar to the news media’s desperation for a story. He is a testament to its waning capability to challenge the inaccurate or absurd. What we see today is much worse than the yellow journalism of Hearst or the liberal bias of Cronkite and his cronies. It goes beyond the traditional “if it bleeds it leads” problem. It is a news media that is rubber necking in unimaginable proportions. And we are forced to watch.

According to legend, Joseph de Maistre once coined the phrase “Every nation has the government it deserves.” Perhaps. And perhaps that is the frightening reality that we have to face when we try to explain the current popularity of Trump.

A small footnote. De Maistre was no fan of democracy. He worked for Russian Czar Alexandar I. He believed hereditary monarchies were divinely sanctioned. He viewed constitutional government as beyond the capabilities of the average Russian.

If alive today, he’d probably be voting for Trump.

 

image of Donald Trump by Gage Skidmore via Creative Commons
August 27, 2015 No comments

Because

JJuice cause

If you have raised a child there is an encounter you are sure to have dealt with. It is the incessantly curious moment.

It is that exchange where every statement you make is met with, “Why?” And after which, each subsequent explanation is met with another, “Why?” And so on. Why? Why? Why?

At some point the exasperated parent blurts out the one word to end all conversation:

“Because!”

“Because.” It is an interesting word. The verb “to be” combined with the verb “to cause”. Or as the old French roots would describe: “by reason of.”

“Because!”

I spend much of my professional life trying to figure out the “because” of things, specifically, the “because” of human thinking and behavior … the “becauses” of thinking a certain way, voting a certain way, giving to a certain institution, joining a certain, dare I say, “cause.”

One thing you quickly discover. Correlation is not cause. It is easy to determine correlation. That is, being able to show that if “this” happens it is very likely “that” will happen around the same time. This is most of the research you see. We sift through the numbers and we see correlations between one phenomenon and another. We even ascribe percentages to it. When this occurs or we take action “A”, then 12% of the time they open the email. But when we do something else and take action “B”, then 16% of the time they open the email. So we show correlation. But was the different action “B” the “be” “cause” of the 4% difference? It is very hard to know.

A long time ago there was a guy named Aristotle. He came up with four ways to think about or look at “causes.” A couple thousand years later, Aristotle’s approach still has value when we think about identifying “cause” in politics, marketing, and social change.

First, there is the material cause. This was the cause determined by the “material that composes the moving or changing of things.” This is the easiest of “causes” to observe and perhaps the most simplistic. It is also the least meaningful. A window broke because a rock went through it. Broken window. Cause = rock. A car engine quit because it ran out of gas. Immobile car. Cause = no gas.

You could say they “caused” the window to break and the car to stop. But were simply materials. They don’t “do” anything. They just enabled something.

It is exactly the same when we ascribe societal or behavior change as the result of a device (iPhone) or an app (GoogleMaps) or a service (Amazon). We say these things are change agents. To be sure change has happened “because” of these things. But they are only a material cause and only give a shallow answer to the “be” “cause” of change.

Second, Aristotle spoke of a “formal” cause. The formal cause results from the arrangement of things. Good examples are the harmonic of a particular musical scale that produces a pleasant sound or the algebraic formula that “causes” an arch to support weight.

Now this gets a bit more interesting. We see it in everyday life. We pay a lot of attention to the “position” of a product or service, whether it is in the supermarket or on a Google search page. Why? Because the “formal cause” or arrangement of things changes an outcome. If you’re selling something you want it to be at the end of the aisle. We pay to have our search term higher up on a page. Yes, these marketing formulas for change work, however often we’re not exactly sure why.

Let’s go further.

Third is Aristotle’s “efficient” cause. This was the cause prompted by a person or change agent. The artist Michaelangelo was the “efficient cause” of the Pieta. You might even say that Hitler was the “efficient cause” of World War II.

Again, we see parallels in assessing the “be” “cause” of developments in business and politics. Einstein. Edison. Jeff Bezos. Elong Musk. Barak Obama. We ascribe to them all manner of causes and changes in politics, society and business. Efficient cause goes beyond substance (the rock or gallon of gasoline), beyond form (the harmonic or equation) to the person or persons who were able to imagine and effectuate change.

Applied to everyday communications, the efficient “cause” are the influencers, the early adopters, the activists, networks and communities that can either make something relevant or irrelevant. So we identify the change agents and chase after them.

Finally there is Aristotle’s – well – “final” cause. This was the ultimate cause. It was and remains the most controversial. It is the cause that is determined by the intrinsic purpose and nature of a particular thing, event or being. As described (in Wikipedia!) it is the cause prompted by “the purpose for which things became.”

Now that’s a phrase to chew on.

Finding the “final” cause of things is the most difficult (and dangerous) but not surprisingly it is the one I find most fun and rewarding. It is finding the “be” “cause” of thinking and action that is due to the intrinsic nature of a person’s being and doing. We talk about it at our agency as the relevant cause. It is looking at things through the eyes, hearts and minds of people and trying to make sense out of the “why” of their attitudes and behavior. And while there, to sift through all the complexity and find out those relevant cause(s) for action.

So the conversation with the little child never ends. After every statement, phenomenon, action, event, or campaign comes the inevitable question: “why?” If we can answer the “why” and find the (be) cause behind those things, we are wiser and can make better decisions about things in the future.

Why?

Well … because!
July 5, 2015 No comments

The Tradesman

Ever watched a tradesman? Anyone, regardless of gender, who is truly skilled at his or her trade. I have. Sometimes I’ve even had the good fortune to work with them. From carpenters and electricians to cooks and artists.

 

Tradesmen are both beauty and art in motion. To watch them is to watch wisdom applied to a practical task. They move with grace and confidence. They are disciplined and discrete. They are not just skilled, they are wise in what they do.

 

Those of us in business could learn a lot from the tradesman. Here are a handful of tradesman skills I’ve tried to incorporate into my own communications planning work.

 

Be observant. The tradesman sees things that other people don’t. They see the angle that isn’t square. They smell the scent that suggests mold. They notice the coloration that indicates a leak. They notice the things we’d never even think of looking for. Too often we have neither the patience nor predilection for the art of observing. We’re too focused on “doing.” And in so focused on doing, we risk not seeing the things most important.

 

Have the right tools.  A tradesman always seems to pull from their bag or sack just the right device to address that particular assignment. Moreover, their tools become an extension of themselves. They have the trowel that has just the right angle, the hammer that is perfectly balanced. Too often we sell or use things or tools because we have them, not because they are the best for the particular assignment. We grab what is available as opposed to what is most useful.

 

Be efficient. I once saw a tradesman put up a framed door from start to finish in 30 minutes. Nothing was rushed or hurried. There was no wasted movement. Every sequence was in place. Each action purposeful. Every cut was precise. Every angle was square. It was breath-taking. Too often in our passion to act, to constantly innovate, to “fail fast”, the flurry of activity suffocates efficiency. When we do we waste everyone’s time, including our own.

 

Be ready to improvise. At a build in Central America several years ago, I saw a tradesman reconstruct a broken ceramic electrical outlet with a rusted kitchen knife, a flat-head screwdriver and a half roll of electrical tape. It was the strangest contraption I’d seen and I doubt it would have passed a safety inspection. But it allowed us to continue working and finish the job while someone went to buy a new outlet. Too often we have trouble thinking creatively, particularly if “improvising” doesn’t look pretty or present well. We have a hard time adjusting to the reality of the unknowable.

 

Finish jobs completely. The sign of a good tradesman is that after the work is done, there’s no evidence they’ve been there. They spend as much cleaning up as they do creating. They spend as much time fixing the small, final imperfections as they do the big construction. Too often we head off for another assignment before the job at hand is complete. In not finishing, we not only leave the opportunity for a project to unravel, we miss the chance to step back and enjoy the view.

 

Observant. Ready with the right tools. Efficient. Unafraid to improvise. Taking time to finish and reflect on a job well done.

 

We should all approach our work like a skilled tradesman.

 

Drill Bit Cutting Through Wood by Charles Knowels Via Creative Commons
June 3, 2015 No comments

I am not a scientist.

Earth creative commons
My wife said something profound yesterday. She does that a lot, actually. She’s a therapist. She has a knack for human insight.

We were in our typical morning routine, propped up in bed with our iPads reading the news and checking Facebook. Staring at her iPad Sanderijn said, “Isn’t it strange that every time people ask one of the Republican candidates for president about climate change they answer ‘I don’t know … I am not a scientist.'”

She went on, “Why is it climate change is the one thing they feel they are not qualified to have an opinion on?” She thoughtfully added that these guys don’t seem to respond similarly when asked about other areas of policy.

Which got me thinking. Imagine a presidential candidate who says …

I don’t know about education policy because I am not a teacher.

I don’t know about foreign policy because I am not a diplomat.

I don’t know about military intervention because I am not a soldier.

I don’t know about tax policy because I am not a CPA.

I don’t know about crime and punishment because I am neither a policeman nor a judge.

I don’t know about health care policy because I am not a doctor.

I don’t know about moral values because I am not clergy. (ok, Mike Huckabee maybe but that’s whole different story).

Wouldn’t it be interesting if candidates showed the same humility on other policy issues that some candidates are showing on climate change?

Oh, and by the way, 97% of climate scientists believe that climate change is real and caused by human activity.

 

Earth Day Image is used under CC 2.0
May 18, 2015 2 Comments

Church

Place of Worship

Church.

I go to one.

Church, that is.

I hear that going to church is becoming increasingly rare.  That’s according to the latest survey by Pew Research. They say the number of people going to church is dwindling.  Ok, they say it is dropping like a stone, actually.  The biggest drop off appears to be millennials, including millennials with young children.

I think that’s too bad.  I feel it is too bad mostly for reasons of faith and belief.  But there are practical reasons as well.

So for all the “nones” out there, even if you feel that church isn’t for you, I’d ask you to reconsider.

Let me give you three practical things you (and your children) can learn from going to church.  Or, for that matter, the mosque or synagogue.

First, at church you learn how to sit still for an hour.  This is an extremely practical skill.  It gets you ready for all those dreadful meetings and conference calls you will have to endure at work.  And for your children it is an absolute God send (pun intended). I teach a lot of kids and let me tell you, we’re losing the art of “sitting still.”

Sure, your kids are going to tell you that they are bored.  Hey, depending on what church you go to you might even be bored.  But haven’t you heard?  Being bored is a good thing.  In fact, all the latest studies show  that people’s besting thinking and creativity comes through boredom.

Go to church. Sit still. And yes, get bored. You’re best thinking depends on it.

Second, at church you learn the concept of giving and philanthropy.

In my faith we practice tithing or giving ten percent of our income.  This always leads to the question, “Is it ten percent of “gross” or ten percent of “net”? I don’t know the answer to that.  I do know that many boomers like me who were brought up in church saw Mom and Dad drop their envelop in the plate and were instructed at a very early age to do the same.

The idea of generosity, particularly for the poor and disenfranchised, is common across many faiths.  But church teaches you how to make this a habit, how to weave it into your lifestyle at an early age.

One of the many challenges charitable organizations face today is the decline of the institutional donor. The new generation of donors are “situational” donors.  That’s ok, but not great.  It is hard to imagine great organizations like Red Cross or American Cancer Society being built by situational donors. Church teaches you that you should give back and support causes even when there’s no earthquake in Haiti or drought in the Sudan.  That you should give all the time.  Regularly.  Dependably.  So that organizations that are doing good work can actually do good work.

Finally, church makes you think about big things.  At least it should. Mine does.

When I say big things, I mean really big things. Understanding good.  And bad.  Purpose. Meaning.  Destiny.  Love.  Sacrifice. Truth. Mortality.

Heady stuff.  Big stuff.  The most important stuff in life, really.

But if we’re honest with ourselves, most of us would admit these aren’t the things we spend most of our time thinking about.  We spend most of our time thinking about whether we left the iron on.  Or something like that.  And we think about stuff a lot.  At work we recently did a national study on what people think about most.  At number one was “friends and family.” That’s encouraging.  But at number two – by a wide margin – was “money.”  People think twice as much about money and finances as they do about life’s meaning and purpose.

I think that is too bad. Understandable, but too bad.

Church helps correct that.  Every Sunday here come all those really big things again.  Origin. Purpose. Meaning. Morality. Destiny. Good and Evil. Truth. Mortality.

It isn’t that church is the only place where a person can learn how to sit still, practice philanthropy and search for meaning.  But its track record is pretty good on all three fronts.  And you might even stumble over some of that faith and belief stuff.

So think about it.

 

Place of Worship via flickr under creative commons 2.0