Time: A means to an end?

The other day, a group of students showed up at the bookstore, wanting to interview someone on the topic of success. They had two questions to ask: What is success, and by your definition, are you successful? The timeliness of their questions about success struck me later as I drove home, still pondering my own answers. A group of church members has been considering the subject of time over the past few weeks. Each of us, from different perspectives and for different reasons, have come to this weekly gathering, hoping, at least in part, to gain some sense of anchoring around the concept of time. Not to my surprise, the more tuned in to time I have become in these weeks, the more ephemeral time seems to have become. As one group member suggested, “It’s like trying to hold on to sand. The tighter my grip, the faster the grains escape between my fingers.”

In our world, time is closely woven with notions of success and productivity. For years, my greatest asset, in my own eyes, was my discipline around time. Depending on the season, a 5:30 wake up began a day that was packed to the gills with every kind of activity from work to pleasure. And, most often, these spheres would overlap. Always, though, there was productivity, something to show for my day whether it was an assignment completed, a scrapbook made, or items checked off the “to do” list for the upcoming charity event. It is interesting how small seeds are planted. I remember very well when my Hebrew teacher told me that the finished product of my translating was not the most important part of my work in her class. Instead, it was the process of translating that I should pay better attention to. Working with the text was a prayer in and of itself, not to be regarded as a means to an end and, certainly, not just another item to tick off my list.

The years I spent in South Africa marked a dramatic shift in my productivity and need for multitasking. At first, I tried to project my own conceptions of time onto the structures and people in my new community. I had clear goals in my mind and a path to achieving them. As the months passed and I honored my own expectations pertaining to time, I discovered that I was missing out on whole pieces of the culture and people that I was among. My time management and the rhythm of the community seemed to be mutually exclusive. If I wanted to move deeper into the fullness of my surroundings, I needed to loosen my schedule. I needed to let go of my need for productivity so that I could experience the life that was happening around me. If I didn’t allow myself to depart, at least every once-in-a-while, from the events I had planned, I was going to miss the moments that would be most transformative.

More importantly, with my attention split in multiple directions, I had a nagging sense that I wasn’t completely honoring the person or family that I had set out to care for. Their illness or loss was at the center of their world, but, for me, it was one of quite a few concerns that I was trying to balance. What I noticed was that I was only able to give my full focus when I made the choice to be engaged. Being present was an active decision, and I had to remember it to make the choice, not just once, but from moment to moment.

Years of social construction have instilled very deeply in me the need to use my time wisely and a drive to keep pushing for the next item on my list. When I have been given reason to pause, I have been humbled enough to see that my need for productivity is strangely self-centered. In a way, I know that I will never be able to fully move beyond it. Nonetheless, as I was trained to think and act in one way, new training over time can set a slightly different course for me. My definition of success has changed over the last few years, and I imagine it will continue to evolve as my training in practices of spirituality and holiness continues. For this, I am grateful.

Leadership is a privilege, so don't abuse it...

A few days ago, I received some unsettling news about a colleague in South Africa. He had stood up to his boss for justice, and in doing so, lost his home. Anyone with a heart would feel compassion for a person in this predicament. I was particularly emotional because I had encouraged him to speak out in the first place. Initially, I was crestfallen at the news, and then my heartache turned to anger. When I ran into a friend a few hours later, I confessed that I was going to sign up for martial arts so that I could inflict wounds on persons larger than me. It’s amazing how quickly one can loose sight of rationale and reason, especially when someone who is vulnerable and powerless is preyed upon.

For the past few weeks, wednesday night bible study has been reading from the book of Ezekiel. The prophet and his forty-eight chapters of preaching to an exiled Israel doesn’t always resonate with a modern audience, and I am not so sure that he was even popular back in the day, either. Nonetheless, after wading through repeating verses about winged wheels on chariots that seem to better belong in a horror movie than in the sacred texts of the Jewish and Christian faiths, I can’t help but recognize the timeliness of Ez. 34: The False Shepherds of Israel. If you haven’t even read it, it is worth your time, particularly in this season of elections. In this chapter, God rails against those who have been given power for leadership, religious and also political, and promises that the victims of their opportunistic greed will soon be rescued by God. The simple message: leadership is a privilege, so don’t misuse it.

I have mostly ignored politics in the last few months. If I am honest, I know that one of the reasons I have avoided politics in these months is that I have been too disappointed in the leadership I have witnessed over the last few years to give it a chance. And, as I have been living overseas in South Africa, my disillusionment has very little to do with politics in the US. For the last two years, I witnessed on a microcosmic level, how tyranny is bred. The recipe seemed easy enough: find a battered people, speak promises, no matter how empty they may be, ensure that no one around feels like an equal, make them believe that compensation for their loyalty is coming, and extinguish in whatever way possible, any voice of opposition. In my most cynical moments, this is what I feel I learned best in Africa, and not just through observing the government but sadly, also in the church. The truth of corruption has been a bitter pill for me to swallow, but I know that this abuse if not particular to Africa or any specific individual there. After all, there is a reason we have Ezekiel 34. Leaders, entrusted by God to guide and direct the vulnerable masses, have hardly ever lived up to the honor and privilege.

These days, streams of negative attack ads pervade every cable station. I heard this morning that over a billion has been spent on these “ads” during this election season. I find myself feeling ill over this waste. What are we thinking? I have yet to find one person who appreciates these ads, and yet with each election season, it just gets worse. If I have to hear one more threat about getting ready for 2012, I may go back to the martial arts idea. What about living presently and dealing with the issues of today? The ratio of “campaign” time to “actual work” time must be incalculable because of the gross imbalance. Is there any way to stop this train or are we truly forced into uncomfortable acquiescence of this unacceptable use of our precious resources? Therefore, when I come to Ezekiel 34, I read it even more hungrily.

To those false leaders, God says,

“You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them. So they were scattered, because there was no shepherd; and scattered, they became food for all the wild animals.”

But to the scattered flock, God says,

“I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice.

Perhaps, my own wilderness has enhanced the poignance of Ezekiel’s message. And, to my surprise, it is not because I see this chapter as evidence that bad leaders will face the consequences of their abuse. Instead, these words remind me that those who have been led astray and left to be ravaged by some ill, are not left alone in their suffering. God’s promise to all those who have been harmed because of false shepherding lingers with me, even after I have turned the page. And so, at my wits end, whether at home where we drown in attack ads and talking heads or abroad where the carnage of greed is most visible in empty stomachs and sickly bodies, and when I can’t envision any other answer, I get on my knees in prayer. In moments like this, my only rest is found in God’s word.

This chapter is a reminder to any person who has been given the privilege of leadership, in the church or elsewhere, that the task of shepherding should never be taken lightly. For any of us, who either gladly or reluctantly accept the mantle of leadership, be watchful and listen well to these words, for the stakes are high and getting higher every day.