Tuesday, February 12, 2013

The Right Rhythm for Leaders


I'm working on an article for a business online journal, Leader's Edge. Let me know what you think before I send it off!

Grooving—that’s life at its best. That’s what musicians—and especially drummers—describe as that moment when you’re feeling the rhythm so deeply that you’re almost obligated to stay in it. Not too fast, nor too slow. You’re “in the groove.” It’s the result of hearing the yeses, testing them, and then finding the right rhythm of yes and no, of notes and spaces.
A few negative effects of not managing stress
But it seems we are doing well with the notes, but not the strategic spaces. A Harvard Interactive survey found that American workers didn’t use 9.2 vacation days in 2012, up from 6.2 the year before. About a third of us eat lunch at our desk. 
For business leaders especially, my hope is that you will find the right rhythm of yes and of no, that you will groove.
When the 16th century master artist, Leonardo da Vinci, was working on The Last Supper, he would without warning take a break.  The prior of Santa Maria delle Grazie was not amused and entreated Leonardo with tiresome persistence to complete the work.  The prior complained to the Duke who questioned Leonardo about his working habits. Leonardo, we are told, persuaded the duke that “the greatest geniuses sometimes accomplish more when they work less.”
Some like to describe this optimal state of life as balance. And that description works ok, if it implies the right mixture of activities that promote the good life. The problem with balance—or “the balanced life”—is that it sounds as if living well is to find some equipoise between equal parts of two different things, like relaxation and work.
I prefer describing life at its best as rhythm because it’s dynamic. Balance remains essentially a vision of things staying there on a scale. Balance is a teeter-totter that’s horizontal to the earth. It just stands there. A great rhythm, on the other hand, has movement and dynamism. It integrates a variety of different inputs. Some snare drum there, mixing with a thumping bass and spiced with a shaker, a tambourine, or some conga.
Rhythm—and this is the most important part and the one that’s often missed—has that expert relationship between sound and silence. To keep making noise is just that: noise. But a good rhythm has notes and spaces, and that’s what makes it work. And even more than work, that’s what makes it interesting and sometimes scintillating. 
We need our rest. How does this work? Herbert Benson, associate professor at Harvard Medical School, and renowned voice on the mind and wellness. He has given a clear description of why strategic breaks work from his research into the science of the brain. Dr. Benson calls moments of renewal “breakouts.” Here’s an example: You’re sitting at your computer, pounding out what you hope will be a hot new book on, let’s say, how to create boundaries so you can achieve your goals as well as health and peace. But you’re stuck on one sentence, maybe even just one stinking word. You keep plugging away, but no word emerges. You don’t know what to do because your publisher’s deadline was in the last century. So you keep pushing. But the creativity never flows.
Using research from neuroscientists and brain mapping, Benson describes that up to a point, stress helps us to think better. Beyond that, however, it frustrates us. The key is to know when you’ve driven yourself beyond what’s helpful. If you keep pushing yourself when you’re at a dead end, your “primitive brain” (the deep core that drives basic functions and raw emotions) goes wild. That’s when you feel fearful, angry, forgetful, frustrated, etc. Benson warns: If you push on, you do it at your own risk. In other words, when you see these signs, it’s time to switch gears.
So take a strategic break. Here’s how: Breathe deeply. Float in the pool. Beat a drum. Fold laundry. As the 12-steppers put it, “Let go and let God.” Listen to U2 or Mozart. Countless possibilities emerge, many tailor-made for you. The key is to do something completely different. Then the stress function is relieved and creativity emerges. Imaging studies suggest that deep meditation and creative activity lead to “coherence”—a synchronizing of the logical left brain with the intuitive right brain. There we enter into a cool Latin term, vis mediatrix naturae or loosely translated “the power of natural healing.”
How does this work? Benson and his colleagues suspect it’s the release of nitric oxide that shuts down stress hormones and fires up those feel-good neurotransmitters like endorphins, soothing the struggling soul. (Just to be clear, that’s nitric—not nitrous—oxide. It’s also the chemical released by Viagra, but I won’t go there.) Interestingly, the chemical formula for nitric oxide is NO. When you’re stressed, say yes to NO.
Before there was Herbert Benson and his Latin there was Tom Cootsona, my dad, who used to utter a choice piece of wisdom: “Sometimes pounding more nails just makes more holes.” Here’s how I first heard it: My dad and I were fastening together two pieces of wood. We pounded in a couple of nails. The bond wasn’t quite strong enough. So I get frustrated and whack in a dozen more. It still doesn’t work. You try bigger nails. It still doesn’t work. My dad said, “No more nails. Let’s try something else.” In other words, there comes a point when there’s enough nails. Similarly, with our problems: we often try the same solution repeatedly. If a project gets stuck, we’re tempted to work one more hour. “If I just work harder, I’ll solve this!” But sometimes, we don’t need nails, we need a wood screw. We need to step back and gain perspective. That’s the beauty of strategic breaks: Saying no to what’s in front of you and yes to moments of rest and renewal. In those moments, we gain fresh point of view, throw away the nails, and create a new solution.
Every day presents good and urgent reasons for saying yes to strategic breaks. Will you and I resist the natural rhythm of work and rest? What will your daily and weekly strategic breaks be?

Friday, February 08, 2013

Science and Theology: Perfect Together?

On the way to this weekend's science and religion conference, I thought I'd offer a few thoughts on how to relate theology and science. (These are excerpted from my book, Creation and Last Things.)

Science and theology certainly continued to tussle in a variety of forms in the following centuries, but it never was a simple conflict. The commentator on science, Margaret Wertheim, has concluded, “The idea of a long-standing war between science and religion is a historical fiction invented in the late nineteenth century.”

Isaac Newton, the key figure in formulating the “modern” scientific worldview combined a rigorous Christian faith with the most penetrating mind to come along for centuries. Admittedly, Newton strayed from orthodoxy on certain theological points—especially the Trinity—but remained committed to the Bible throughout his distinguished career. As he remarked, “No sciences are better attested than the religion of the Bible.”


Still, the contemporary Nobel laureate Stephen Weinberg—like many other scientists—propagates the common notion of the incompatibility between religion and science with force: “One of the great achievements of science has been, if not to make it impossible for intelligent people to be religious, then at least to make it possible for them not to be religious. We should not retreat from this accomplishment.” But this conflict model oversimplifies a more varied historical interaction between these two disciplines. Consider another example: the nineteenth-century scientist and Christian, Clerk Maxwell, whose theories gave inspiration to Einstein’s special relativity, “Happy is the man who can recognize in the work of today a connected portion of life, and an embodiment of the work of Eternity.”


In this spectrum between outright oil-and-water and a chummy friendship, a number of points exist. The doyen of the study of science and theology, Ian Barbour, has set out a clear typology for four ways that religion and science have interacted.

1.     Conflict—each sees the other as an enemy and attacks its adversary. Many 
conservative theologians understand that science is “godless” (as some in fact is) and set their attack accordingly. On the other side, scientism defines all reality by what can be discovered scientifically. That approach obviously does not leave much room for faith.
2.     Independence remains perhaps the most popular approach. Galileo is sometimes quoted in this regard: “Religion tells us how to go to heaven. Science tells us how the heavens go.” (Galileo had more to say as I will note below.) The independence model has the virtue of maintaining a proper freedom for both science and theology. It may, however, lead to the conclusion that science deals with “the real world” and religious faith can be placed on the same level as belief in Santa Claus or unicorns—comforting, but deluded.
3.     Dialogue, where the two disciplines sit down and calmly discuss their respective insights. This is polite coffee talk—quite enjoyable, but no one is brought to changed opinions after the conversation. Many science-theology specialists find this to be the dominant, and often frustrating, pinnacle of interactions at most conferences. It ultimately splits the one world God has made into air-tight microworlds.
4.     Integration has as its goal a real learning on both sides. In this case, there is a give and take, where real transformation of thought can occur. Curiously, Galileo offers an excellent example of this approach. He understood his work as necessary for maintaining the truth of Christianity so that faith would not be wedded to bad science. For this reason, Galileo looked to God as his final Arbiter after his infamous trial: “He knows that in this cause for which I suffer, though many might have spoken with more learning, none, not even the ancient Fathers, have spoken with more piety or with greater zeal for the Church than I.”
        
As a rule, I seek to move toward the integration of theology and science. Nonetheless, in order for the two disciplines really to integrate, one needs to admit the similarities and differences in their approaches. Sometimes, as their respective research programs develop, dialogue may be the apex of their interaction at any moment and integration remains a goal on the horizon.
        
How then to move toward integration? First of all, both disciplines prize humility—the fact that we do not know everything. There is an incompleteness to our knowledge, but a confidence that we can learn something. Einstein definitely knew this virtue, “One thing I have learned in a long life: that all our science, measured against reality is primitive and childlike and yet it is the most precious thing we have.” The Bible says it another way, “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). Unfortunately both Christianity and science have often proceeded without humility.
        
Secondly, there is a strong historical relation between the growth of science and monotheistic religion. Put simply, science has grown historically in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic countries. Why? All traditions—and I will speak primarily as a Christian—speak of God’s rationality and prize the intelligibility of God design universe. Copernicus stated simply, “ The universe has been wrought for us by a supremely good and orderly Creator.” Scientific research relies on the order, coherence, and comprehensibility in nature. In fact, the development of modern science is related to the idea that nature has a pattern or “laws,” which can be discerned through observation. The Nobel laureate, Charles Towne, in a lecture on the relationship between the Christian faith and modern science, summarizes this connection: “For successful science of the type we know, we must have faith that the universe is governed by reliable laws and, further, that these laws can be discovered by human inquiry.” Conversely, to believe in the intelligibility of the universe without this basis is an amazing leap of faith.
        
In this respect, science and theology have much to learn from one another.  Albert Einstein provided one brilliant summary:  “Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.” Pope John Paul II formulated another: “ Science can purify religion from error and superstition; religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes. Each can draw the other into a wider world, a world in which both can flourish.”

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Seven Sabbath Practices


How do you “do” Sabbath? Rabbi Abraham Heschel wrote, “The Sabbath itself is a sanctuary which we build, a sanctuary in time.” How do you build this sanctuary in time? What are the elements? Which ones already exist in your life? For a Sabbath day, take these steps whole; for Sabbath mornings or lunch times, take them in smaller bits. You decide. This is all about freedom. We are free to discern what rest means for us. 

In that spirit, I offer these Seven Sabbath Practices:

I.               Tailor-made. These Sabbaths have to be cut for you. If you’re sedentary all day, maybe it’s taking a day of biking or tennis. If you’re duking it out in the courtroom, maybe it’s silence in a park. For busy parents of young children, it may mean spending time with adults. And if it’s hard to free a day or a time for rest, find a friend for the kids, use your personal days. Whatever you do, just take a break.
II.             All of you—body, mind, soul, and spirit. You can take Sabbath walks, lounge in your bed late on Saturday mornings, and savor Sabbath meals with friends. (Spouses, it’s a wonderful fact that the tradition of Sabbath includes sexual intimacy.)
III.           … but especially,  feed thy soul. Our culture is not very attuned to the spiritual life. I return to Heschel who wrote that it only takes three things to create a sense of significant being: God, a soul and a moment. The three are always present. This little word No has the power to bring the three together.
IV.           No obligations, some time each day and one day each week. No mopping, no cooking, no paying bills, no moving the lawn, no fixing the house, nor even thinking about work and the office. Through it all, let your mind rest from obligations regularly each day.
V.             Restrict technology’s reach. Turn off the cell phone. Don’t check the email. And, by all means, unplug the TV and shut the laptop. I’ve already covered this, but it’s worth repeating.
VI.           Time with the ones you love. This means friends, family, your spouse. Whomever. You chose. Pretty simple.
VII.         Reflect and adjust. Find where there are things that break you down and where there are things that bring strength and peace. Adjust your life accordingly.

My daily pattern combines physical exercise, meditation/prayer, and reading.

In my book, this is time for Greg and for God. Time for body and soul. Fridays (because Sundays are work days for me) I take the entire day off. Except in rare emergencies, I don’t accomplish any work. In the morning, I savor an extended workout, generous time for journaling, reflection, prayer, and study. I walk in Upper Park with Laura. Sabbaths are days where I don’t have any duties, and everything’s based on freedom. I even remove my watch and put my iPhone aside so that it no longer breaks my day into disconnected units or distractions. 

Having practiced regular Sabbaths, I’ll never go back.

(Adapted from my book, Say Yes to No.)

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Seeing the Best in Baja


My contention is that we too often hear about the problems of Chico State and Butte College students. Too much alcohol, violence, and sexual promiscuity. All these selfishness, spoiled college students who don't care enough for others.
Sometimes called "The Theology of the Hammer"
            I’m thankful I get to prove this charge wrong every January when I travel with a group of 30 or 40 students and advisors—including, by the way, Chico State professors—and we build houses for poor farm workers in Baja California. 
            The team travels down as part of a mission trip from Bidwell Presbyterian, partnering with Youth With a Mission, housed at Richardson Springs. We build simple 20’ x 22’ wood houses that cost an unimaginable $3600… unimaginable for those workers many of whom pick strawberries in this area and who make about $8.50 (or 100 pesos) a day. Essentially we’re responding to Jesus’s words, especially his declaration that his own mission (according to Gospel of Luke) was to “announce good news to the poor.”
            Constructing those houses is very good news indeed. I’m thinking, for example of a single mother, Yannette, whose husband ran off and left her with two kids, one of whom is autistic. Having finished construction, our team of 11 twenty-somethings and me stood in a circle in the dirt in front of her new house and handed her keys.
The sun was gradually setting, and as dusk fell, she even told us God had spoken to her in a dream in which “soldiers” would come to provide for her. Not on that, but that we were her soldiers. Frankly, that was unusual, but I’ve been around the church enough to know these visions can be accurate. Then she added that we would have the strength of buffaloes. Even a bit stranger, but powerful and poignant. She opened the front door, and we all walked in. By the light of my cell phone, we unveiled a new bunk bed for her kids. They laughed—in and amongst the tears—laughed with disbelief that this was coming true.
            I’m not sure it was buffalo strength, but I did see these students rise to the occasion. I saw them at their best—serving without rancor, cooperating with one another, finding the joy in doing something really worthwhile for someone else. If I’ve got one thing I want young adults to learn as they form their values and character, it’s that we are made to give. And when we give—when we say yes to serving—we find how God created us. And there we find happiness. There we find life at its best.
            As I was flying from San Diego to Sacramento on one of these trips, I got into a conversation with a TV newscaster (a Chico State grad herself) who asked me why all these college students were on the plane. I told her that these students had just built houses for the poor in the Mexico. She became quite excited and told me, “You’ve got to get that story out!”
            I suppose that’s what I’m doing now. If I see the newscaster again, I’ll tell her I’m doing what I can to let people know that there’s a lot more to Chico’s college life than binge drinking, violence, and generally selfish hedonism…. I’ll even add the part about buffalo strength.

Sunday, January 06, 2013

Rhythm: The Time for Yes and the Time for No


Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. 
Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. 
Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. 
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. 
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 
Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.
Matthew 11:28-30, The Message

Grooving—that’s life at its best. That’s what musicians—and especially drummers—describe as that moment when you’re feeling the rhythm so deeply that you’re almost obligated to stay in it. Not too fast, nor too slow. You’re “in the groove.” You’re feeling “the unforced rhythms of grace.” (I love that paraphrase!) It’s the result of hearing the yeses, testing them, and then finding the right rhythm of yes and no, of notes and spaces. (You can see my video about this rhythm here.)
When the 16th century master artist, Leonardo da Vinci, was working on The Last Supper, he would without warning take a break.  The prior of Santa Maria delle Grazie was not amused and entreated Leonardo with tiresome persistence to complete the work.  The prior complained to the Duke who questioned Leonardo about his working habits. Leonardo, we are told, persuaded the duke that “the greatest geniuses sometimes accomplish more when they work less.”
Some like to describe this optimal state of life as balance. And that description works ok, if it implies the right mixture of activities that promote the good life. The problem with balance—or “the balanced life”—is that it sounds as if living well is to find some equipoise between equal parts of two different things, like relaxation and work.
I prefer describing life at its best as rhythm because it’s dynamic. Balance remains essentially a vision of things staying there on a scale. Balance is a teeter-totter that’s horizontal to the earth. It just stands there. A great rhythm, on the other hand, has movement and dynamism. It integrates a variety of different inputs. Some snare drum there, mixing with a thumping bass and spiced with a shaker, a tambourine, or some conga.
The key then is good rhythm among all the calls in life. Conversely, it’s not really work/life “balance” because I’m saying that all these three major areas in the triangle—personal life, work, and love—need to play off one another to create a rhythmic beauty.
Rhythm—and this is the most important part and the one that’s often missed—has that expert relationship between sound and silence. To keep making noise is just that: noise. But a good rhythm has notes and spaces, and that’s what makes it work. And even more than work, that’s what makes it interesting and sometimes scintillating. 
The Bible also describes these moments of refreshing, of returning to God in the midst of heavy activity and even strife. One of my favorite verses finds its way into the prophecies of Isaiah:

In returning and rest you shall be saved;
In quietness and trust shall be your strength.
(Isaiah 30:15)

This prophecy came to the people of Israel at a time of war and therefore great social stress. They needed to hear about the rhythm of working hard and of returning to God. Their strength would arise when they rested. The yes to work came out of the no-work of rest. Tellingly, they did not take up the offer because the next line reads, “But you refused.” Will you and I resist God’s call to work and rest?
We need to listen to the call to return and rest. And in this rest and returning, we practice the right rhythm of yes and no.