Many years ago, I was facilitating a leadership program for an international group when a conflict broke out among the members. At the heart of the issue were the diverse cultural perspectives regarding how power and authority are exercised by men and women. At a very sensitive moment, one of the members of the group made a harsh comment directed at another member.
It was a shocking and painful moment for the group, because the offending comment lacked empathy and consideration for the woman who had shared quite vulnerably about her experiences of discrimination.
Now, this was a group that had spent a lot of time building community through shared experiences, and very meaningful and deep conversations. There was obviously a sense of closeness among us and a sense of being more than a collection of individuals. So, this harsh and judgmental comment came as a blow to the group’s sense of trust, undermining the belief that we were all more or less of a common mind, in tune with each other about important values. It felt like a betrayal of the community, and created a very uncomfortable tension that had the potential to polarize or fragment the group into factions.
Perhaps you’ve experienced such moments at home with family, or at work with colleagues, or among friends? There are so many sensitive topics that can cause division these days.
At a loss for what to do, I invited each member of the group to take a moment of quiet prayer, to connect with God, and to listen in their heart to what God was inspiring them to say or do. Then, each person was invited to share very briefly about the fruits of their prayer. I’ll never forget how one of the members, a big, imposing guy, shared what he did. He said, “Sometimes, when I’m at a total loss, I imagine myself as a young lamb that Jesus picks up and holds close to his heart. In my prayer just now, I felt his tenderness toward me and us, and sensed him saying, I know you feel sad and lost right now; I’m with you. Stay with one another.”
What followed in the group of thirty or so was a moment of profound and prolonged silence. I can only speak for myself, but I remember thinking I never would have expected what he shared, and that I felt moved by his vulnerability in light of the experience we were sharing. He named what we were all feeling. Several of the members of the group, both men and women, teared up. We felt Jesus’ presence among us. His grace was at work, holding us all close, giving us comfort, courage, and the hope that our sense of communion could be restored.
In the hours that followed, the member that made the offending remark apologized for his insensitivity, both to the woman and the group. The woman forgave the man, and demonstrated her resilience by re-engaging in the group conversation after feeling silenced. And to this day, people remember what happened that afternoon as a turning point, where the group was carried by God’s grace through and past a conflict to the other side, where the sense of communion was deepened because of these gestures of penitence, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
Why do I tell this story? What does it have to do with the Gospel and the connections with leadership?
As Jesus speaks of himself using the comparison between a shepherd and his sheep, we know that he uses one of the archetypal images from his Jewish tradition, that of God shepherding his people, and of David, who in his youth was willing to lay down his life to protect his flock. His audience knows what makes for a good shepherd: the close relationship and mutual affection that builds trust. This trust is the condition that allows the shepherd to direct and protect the sheep, and without it, the sheep stray and the flock scatter.
Leaders, like shepherds, cannot lead without trust. Trust involves more than mutual understanding. It also requires attunement to people’s inner state, and sensitivity in particular to fear or vulnerability. When people sense that the leader is not attuned to them, that the leader is not taking their needs, values, and hopes into account, that sense of separateness undermines trust. As complicated as it can be, trust requires sufficient closeness and real care, otherwise, no matter how much formal authority a leader might have, they cannot truly lead. And they certainly won’t be effective in asking people to do hard things, let alone to change.
This was Jesus’ point to the Pharisees, who believed that they could use their formal authority alone to compel people to obedience under the Law and to the customs that they were authorized to protect. They were not close to the people, but only associated among themselves, and apparently, the religious authorities of Jesus’ time were more focused on their own status and security than they cared about others, especially the poor, or those who were in any way ritually unclean. In their insensitivity, the Pharisees imposed challenging economic and disciplinary burdens on people, no matter what their circumstances were. They were not acting as good shepherds, but rather, as thieves. Perhaps we know of some people in roles of formal authority today who remind us of these false shepherds.
By contrast, as we were reminded in that man’s prayer, Jesus knows us, our cares, hurts, and fears. He understands when we feel lost. Jesus knows our hopes and longings, too. And so, when we are aware of Jesus’ living presence among us, within us, he is able to mobilize us to do hard things, and to change. He gives us the courage we need to say I’m sorry, to forgive, and to be reconciled.
As we undertake roles of formal authority or lead without formal authority, are we sufficiently close and attuned to people? Do others perceive our care and consideration of them enough to trust us to lead them, including where they might fear to go?
With you on the road,
