Yesterday, I got as close as I've ever gotten to delivering an authentic elevator speech. It was my first opportunity to pitch what I'm both good at and what I'm passionate about.
I wasn't prepared, really, to crawl out of the hole of what is and reach for what could be. I like to do my research. I like to know my playbook. I like to run through the different possible outcomes. Because Myers-Briggs tells me I'm 50% introvert. But then, I heard the voice of a good and talented and shy friend in my head, giving a speech to 50 college musicians on retreat and telling them, "Do something that scares you every day. That's why I'm here."
And the 50% extrovert kicked in. The only thing worse than no plan is half a plan. For me, I either run through every permutation, or I don't think at all. Just jump.
So I jumped.
And here's what I realized: I know what I want to do, I'm just not sure how to get there.
I want to help churches identify and communicate their rich value proposition. I think many of them (particularly here in the Northeast) are in a terrified scatter pattern right now. They're finally beginning to re-learn how to communicate, they're finally getting around to trying to reach out instead of stand and "Let the children come to me." But they're also very much focused on delivering what "people" want (which is a good thing, but) and sometimes forget to focus on delivering what they actually have. Too many parishes are a Facebook page of feel-good without explaining the crucial next step: THIS KIND OF FEEL-GOOD CANNOT BE OBTAINED ANYWHERE ELSE. IT IS TIED TO GENERATIONS OF TRUTH, AND IT IS TIED TO YOU. AND THIS IS THE KIND OF FEEL-GOOD THAT CHANGES LIFE, THAT IS LIFE.
This kind of feel-good cannot be obtained anywhere else. It is tied to generations of truth, and it is tied to you. And it is the kind of feel-good that changes life. That IS life.
But what really get's me fired up is the artistry and history that surrounds the faithful every time they walk into one of these buildings – whether the church is 300 years old, or was built in the (what I consider to be slightly tragic) post-Vatican II style. (editorial side note: a lot of amazing philosophy-in-practice came out of Vatican II; carpeted churches with a 270-degree circular floor plan and no center aisle were not among them.) For generations, the Catholic Church funded and supported and very best fine artistry there was. It still does, most apparently in the music tradition.
Almost a year ago, I gave a reflection at Villanova, in celebration of a Music Director that was moving on. It was on Veritas, and how music and art helps us access the Veritas of faith. That's a blog for another day, but presenting that reflection to a church packed with 500 people was undoubtedly the most excited I've ever been about anything in my life.
My mother just read me a Fr. Richard Rohr quote over the phone. The gist was: God gave us what we are and what we have. Stop pretending you can change what he wants you to do with it.
Then she really drove the point home by referencing a West Wing episode, which is, as sources of basic truth and inspiration go, only a few steps down from the Holy Bible and Gardner's Art through the Ages in our house.
And my Saturday AM revelation is simply this: I'm currently facing a hurdle that is not entirely different than what the Church is facing. Because there's inherent value and passion and fire that has been there from the very beginning, and I've just been trying to do the wrong things with it.
So stand by. Whether someone helps me figure out my path forward, or I have to find a pith helmet and a machete, something's going to happen soon.