Forty-four years ago Gus Grissom died on the launch pad of Apollo I, killed in an oxygen fire with two other astronauts. A few weeks before the accident, he said:
"We’re in a risky business and we hope if anything happens to us, it will not delay the program. The conquest of space is worth the risk of life."
"...worth the risk of life." What's in your life that's worth risking and dying for? Whew...
A celebration of people who are living out their God-given dreams in all sorts of unconventional ways and places. An exploration of the obstacles to life that we often encounter - some of our own making. A place for stories about people, ideas, culture, history and God.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Un-titlement
(excerpt from Between the Lines: Christianity for Misfit Christians)
"But don't you be called 'Rabbi,' for one is your Rabbi, the Messiah, and all of you are brothers. Call no man on the earth your father, for one is your Father, he who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for one is your master, the Messiah. But he who is greatest among you will be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted."
– Matthew 23:8-12, WEB
We love titles. They're on nearly every business card you see. They're on nameplates, doors, marquees, and billboards. We love to see "M.S." or "director" or "certified" after our names or "pastor" or "president" or "doctor" in front. We proudly associate ourselves with the mighty-titled and rightly believe, based on long experience in the world around us, that titles entitle us to special treatment and honors. They confer identity and significance.
Titles are crap.
When I took the titles off my business card many years ago, a friend said, "You need to have them on there, because until people see them, they can't get past trying to figure out what you do." Absolutely true, and...
...exactly the point. I was tired of people assuming they knew who I was and what I did from the limited titles I operated under. So I jettisoned the titles; I became untitled (yes, I know that's not a privilege everyone has). I knew that it was initially anti-helpful in my marketing role to take that comfort-food title away from a customer. People actually had to watch me and think about me and my role to figure out what I did. The payback was in long-term flexibility to give the customer everything he needed. [1]
When two of his mathetai asked to be put in charge, Jesus told them that if they wanted to be great, they had to become slaves. Even he, the Rabboni, the great master and leader, didn't come to be served and honored, but to serve and be killed. [2]
There's no organization more in love with its titles than the military. Everyone expects to be called by their title ("Colonel, could I have a minute?") and everyone knows exactly where he stands in that hierarchy. Each rank has clearly delineated entitlements. For example, a Brigadier General expects a flag with a star on it, people to rise when he walks into the room, a driver, a certain-sized house and 100-2000 people who are "his." The title entitles. But a few men rise above their titles.
As a nurse in a WWII evacuation hospital, my mother saw soldiers from units all over North Africa and Italy. Troops have things to say about their officers, especially men recovering from grievous wounds and major surgeries. Seasoned troops know when they're badly led. They know when they're well led.
"I've got to get out of here! General Roosevelt needs me up at the front! Please!"
The funny thing is that organizationally, Roosevelt (the son of president Theodore Roosevelt) wasn't "the general;" he was the one-star assistant division commander. Not the two-star in charge. But the men wanted to, had to get back up to Roosevelt.
Roosevelt was the kind of man that other men wanted to follow. His uniform was usually rumpled. His memory for men, and their parents he'd known in WWI, was photographic. He spent enormous amounts of time at the front with his troops, seeing their war and sharing their food. He ultimately won a Medal of Honor for his leadership of his (and others') men through the confusion and terror of D-Day landings on Utah Beach.
His appearance was unimpressive. His health was poor, he walked with a cane even at age 50, and he died in the field shortly after D-Day of an un-heroic heart attack. But, "I've got to get back; General Roosevelt needs me!" is what my mother heard over and over across the sands of North Africa.
Perhaps he took to heart the words of a great captain from three centuries before: "You must love soldiers in order to understand them, and understand them in order to lead them."[61]
General Roosevelt had a star; he was "entitled." But he chose "un-titlement" instead of "entitlement." People know the difference.
You could say he "cleaned toilets" for his country. But in truth, he cleaned toilets for the men he loved.
Notes:
[1] At the W. L. Gore company, new associates not only choose their titles (if any; they're rare), they choose their positions by literally drifting around looking for where they think they fit. One lady whose customers kept wanting a title put a nice solution on her business cards: "Supreme Commander." Bill Gore smiled. Non-incidentally, Gore has virtually no hierarchical management.
[2] Sadly, they asked for promotions right after Jesus said, "I'm about to be killed." Where was the "Oh, my God! Oh, rabbi, please say it isn't so!" reaction? Matthew 20:20-28, Mark 10:35-45 and Luke 22:24-27 tell the whole story.
"But don't you be called 'Rabbi,' for one is your Rabbi, the Messiah, and all of you are brothers. Call no man on the earth your father, for one is your Father, he who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for one is your master, the Messiah. But he who is greatest among you will be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted."
– Matthew 23:8-12, WEB
We love titles. They're on nearly every business card you see. They're on nameplates, doors, marquees, and billboards. We love to see "M.S." or "director" or "certified" after our names or "pastor" or "president" or "doctor" in front. We proudly associate ourselves with the mighty-titled and rightly believe, based on long experience in the world around us, that titles entitle us to special treatment and honors. They confer identity and significance.
Titles are crap.
When I took the titles off my business card many years ago, a friend said, "You need to have them on there, because until people see them, they can't get past trying to figure out what you do." Absolutely true, and...
...exactly the point. I was tired of people assuming they knew who I was and what I did from the limited titles I operated under. So I jettisoned the titles; I became untitled (yes, I know that's not a privilege everyone has). I knew that it was initially anti-helpful in my marketing role to take that comfort-food title away from a customer. People actually had to watch me and think about me and my role to figure out what I did. The payback was in long-term flexibility to give the customer everything he needed. [1]
When two of his mathetai asked to be put in charge, Jesus told them that if they wanted to be great, they had to become slaves. Even he, the Rabboni, the great master and leader, didn't come to be served and honored, but to serve and be killed. [2]
There's no organization more in love with its titles than the military. Everyone expects to be called by their title ("Colonel, could I have a minute?") and everyone knows exactly where he stands in that hierarchy. Each rank has clearly delineated entitlements. For example, a Brigadier General expects a flag with a star on it, people to rise when he walks into the room, a driver, a certain-sized house and 100-2000 people who are "his." The title entitles. But a few men rise above their titles.
As a nurse in a WWII evacuation hospital, my mother saw soldiers from units all over North Africa and Italy. Troops have things to say about their officers, especially men recovering from grievous wounds and major surgeries. Seasoned troops know when they're badly led. They know when they're well led."I've got to get out of here! General Roosevelt needs me up at the front! Please!"
The funny thing is that organizationally, Roosevelt (the son of president Theodore Roosevelt) wasn't "the general;" he was the one-star assistant division commander. Not the two-star in charge. But the men wanted to, had to get back up to Roosevelt.
Roosevelt was the kind of man that other men wanted to follow. His uniform was usually rumpled. His memory for men, and their parents he'd known in WWI, was photographic. He spent enormous amounts of time at the front with his troops, seeing their war and sharing their food. He ultimately won a Medal of Honor for his leadership of his (and others') men through the confusion and terror of D-Day landings on Utah Beach.
His appearance was unimpressive. His health was poor, he walked with a cane even at age 50, and he died in the field shortly after D-Day of an un-heroic heart attack. But, "I've got to get back; General Roosevelt needs me!" is what my mother heard over and over across the sands of North Africa.
Perhaps he took to heart the words of a great captain from three centuries before: "You must love soldiers in order to understand them, and understand them in order to lead them."[61]
General Roosevelt had a star; he was "entitled." But he chose "un-titlement" instead of "entitlement." People know the difference.
You could say he "cleaned toilets" for his country. But in truth, he cleaned toilets for the men he loved.
Notes:
[1] At the W. L. Gore company, new associates not only choose their titles (if any; they're rare), they choose their positions by literally drifting around looking for where they think they fit. One lady whose customers kept wanting a title put a nice solution on her business cards: "Supreme Commander." Bill Gore smiled. Non-incidentally, Gore has virtually no hierarchical management.
[2] Sadly, they asked for promotions right after Jesus said, "I'm about to be killed." Where was the "Oh, my God! Oh, rabbi, please say it isn't so!" reaction? Matthew 20:20-28, Mark 10:35-45 and Luke 22:24-27 tell the whole story.
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