"Spiritual Discovery: A New Title in the Alban Catalog" from Alban Weekly for Monday, 4 May 2015

"Spiritual Discovery: A New Title in the Alban Catalog" from Alban Weekly for Monday, 4 May 2015

Spiritual Discovery: A New Title in the Alban Catalog
Congregational groups of various sorts are at times tasked with making decisions on behalf of the whole body. Even congregations with a more hierarchical form of governance involve groups that govern themselves and make their own decisions. These groups may unintentionally find themselves making use of a secular business model to guide their decision-making. A church governing council may open and close its meetings in prayer, but what happens in between can appear more like a business meeting with participants debating choices as if in the secular world. Somehow, the presence and voice of the ultimate or the Holy is left out of the process of arriving at decisions, a process that would in a faith community ideally be spiritually grounded. It may in fact be that council leaders and members are lacking in knowledge of how to go about making spiritually grounded decisions.
Catherine Tran and Sandra Boyd have been training congregational groups in use of a spiritual way of decision making. As they watched these congregational groups over time, they observed that groups faithfully using their "Spiritual Discovery Method" experienced significant transformation and spiritual growth. Individuals in the groups transferred the Method into their personal lives, developing practices of prayerful discernment which helped them make spiritually grounded choices about education, careers, relationships, and faith-life participation. They also became aware of new ways of listening, speaking, seeing, and participating in their everyday lives.
People in these congregational groups also began to see how the discernment method could be used in a number of settings. Groups formed to help individuals practice spiritual discernment in making life-changing decisions. Other groups found that the Method could be used for discernment in congregational committees and leadership councils. Bible and other study groups experienced a new and deeper satisfaction with the quality of their meetings. An element of prayer that had been lacking was now present and the results were surprising and delightful. The use of the Spiritual Discovery Method proved to be a deeply fulfilling experience in a variety of contexts and at a number of levels.
Spiritual Discovery: A Method for Discernment in Small Groups and Congregations is a detailed description of that Method and the variety of ways it has been used. A practical, how-to book, it equips a seeker, a lay leader or a pastor to form a group and build it into an effective discerning group for community members. Other groups that might use the Spiritual Discovery Method include a book study group, a conflict management group, or a workplace task force. Throughout the book there are stories of ways the skills learned in the practice of the Spiritual Discovery Method have been exercised "in the world." Utilization and practice of this method leads to significant growth in individual and collective spiritual wisdom that in turn results in decision-making that is deeply and satisfyingly spiritually grounded.
Monday, May 4, 2015

Spiritual Discovery: A Method for Discernment in Small Groups and Congregations is a practical guide for groups desiring a prayerful approach to decision-making. This book offers step-by-step guidance for practicing this process, using the powerful instrument Catherine Tran and Sandra Boyd have created to help groups enact spiritual growth and change in their communities.
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Continue Your Learning

The Mission-Focused Board
A Church Network Webinar with Dan Hotchkiss
May 5 at 2:30 p.m. EDT
True partnership begins with clear role boundaries, effective delegation and a constructive system of accountability. Alban author and consultant Dan Hotchkiss offers fresh perspective and practical steps to help a church to move beyond frustrating and ineffective management of boards, clergy and staff.
The webinar will help participants to:
Keep the church's mission at the center of its ministry.
Clearly define roles and authority.
Make space for spiritual discernment and holy conversations.
Give up micromanaging! Learn more and register »
Ideas that Impact: Congregational Decision-Making
Unlocking Divine Sparks: Creative Approaches to Decision-Making in the Spiritual Life of a Community by Shawn Zevit, rabbi

“In beginnings, worlds are created. In creativity, meanings are formed” 1

In the Jewish mystical tradition, each human being is viewed as a creative spark awaiting more kindling on his or her soul journey. In the Hebrew Bible, the very first words of Genesis are, “In the beginning God created…” Life is brought into being through a combination of order and intuitive creativity. In the first blessing before one of the core prayers in the Jewish liturgy, we pray to hamehadesh b’tuvo bekhol-yom tamid ma’aseh bereyshit (the One who renews creation’s work each day). As reflections of that prayer, we, too, yearn to participate in the perpetual renewal of creation.2

Creative approaches to congregational planning, spiritual practice, decision-making, and values clarification can be a gateway to engaging and releasing this renewal. These approaches are not merely parlor tricks or artistic flourishes. They are keys to unlocking the very spiritual, emotional, and intellectual energy that may be dormant or blocked in a congregational system.

As Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan wrote in The Meaning of God in Modern Jewish Religion, “A modern equivalent of the notion of creativity, which tradition regarded as the very essence of the Godhood, would be the concept of the latent and potential elements in the universe as making for an increase in the quantity and quality of life … a spiritual conception of life is consistent only with … the belief that both humanity and the universe are ever in a state of being created. The liturgy speaks of God as ‘renewing daily the works of creation.’ By becoming aware of that fact, we might gear our own lives to this creative urge in the universe and discover within ourselves unsuspected powers of the spirit.”3

Creative Reconnections

I have discovered the truth of Kaplan’s words in my own work. For example, I recently worked in creative ways with a 300-household Jewish congregation that wished to reconnect with its founding principles and mission—with its pre-building, pre-rabbi, pre-staff stage of communal life, which began two decades ago. With the aim of helping them accomplish this goal, I was brought in to facilitate the congregation’s annual retreat for members, clergy, and staff. The approaches I used were probably unlike any they had experienced at previous retreats. They were “creative” both in the sense that they employed narrative, imagery, role playing, and imagination, as well as in the sense that they were generative of something new, unexpected, and alive.

We began gently, with a familiar ritual—a niggun, a wordless melody that brings focus to the group’s energy and acts as a reminder of the sacred intent of our gathering and the commitment to the relationships formed in the name of community. Afterward, I began my presentation by projecting onto a screen a photograph from two decades ago. It showed a group of people gathered at a founding member’s home; this was the meeting where the idea of starting the congregation was hatched. I invited both seasoned and new members to use the body language and expressions of the people pictured to suggest what they were thinking. Wonderful stories came to the fore from the founders, and creative interpretations were offered by newer members, especially children and youth. I then showed more photographs from the congregation’s 20-year history, asking for more real or imagined thoughts or dialogue to be provided for those pictured. When we arrived at a current photo of the synagogue itself, I invited participants to find a partner and share what it was they believed this building would want prospective members to know about its people and its history.

The final image in my presentation was a supersized version of the congregation’s mission statement, which I invited the president to read aloud. Then I asked everyone to “become” the adjectives included in the mission statement: “You are ‘warm and welcoming.’ Why are you in the mission statement and what are you here to remind us of?” I asked. “I am here to remind everyone that we are to always be an open tent like our ancestors Abraham and Sarah, like the ancient festival celebrations in Jerusalem that welcomed in the Israelite and the stranger,” one participant responded. “That we are to be open to people who may have been alienated from religious life and are seeking a nonjudgmental home to return to,” offered another.

We went through all the descriptive words in the mission statement in this way: “You are ‘egalitarian’ … you are ‘inclusive’ … you are ‘valuing tradition’ … you are ‘innovative.’” More and more voices joined the exploration. I offered appreciation for the mission statement and thanked its initial crafters for the wisdom they imparted through it. I then asked the participants what they had learned from the document that expressed the reason for their community’s existence. An hour later, with the conversation still buzzing, I brought the evening to a close by offering a series of questions for everyone to consider in preparation for the next day’s session: “Imagine that you are back at that founding meeting 20 years ago. Would you change this mission statement in any way and why? What values would you like to see reflected in it? Imagine that it is five years from now and you are looking at a photo of this weekend: what was said at this time that supported the congregation in growing and thriving in the years that followed?”

That evening the past was present and the future was glimpsed. Individual and congregational stories were brought to the table, later to become inspiring references for the work ahead. On subsequent days of the retreat, we studied texts from the Torah, the Talmud, and the Hasidic masters. We looked at other congregational mission statements and a previous five-year plan to examine the elements needed to help build a conscious, supportive, and spiritually and intellectually vibrant community. We broke into subgroups to revise the mission statement, to clarify the value of a variety of religious practices and the synagogue’s worship style, and to explore educational issues that needed to be addressed in the year ahead. During prayer, we paused when one of the values or themes being explored in our work together surfaced in the liturgy, and we added additional prayers for those values (such as creativity, love, deep listening, and unity) to be present in the work of the board and committees, the clergy, and teachers in the year ahead. There were no activities—study, group dialogue, worship, brainstorming, or late-night conversation—that were seen as being outside the process and goals of the weekend or the subsequent year in the life of the community.

This is just one example of the power of creative modalities in work with communities. The more my rabbinic, educational, performance, and consulting work takes me into a variety of faithbased, not-for-profit, organizational, educational, and governmental settings, the more I see accomplished in both the short and long term by finding the modality—or combination of modalities—that best suits the group or organization and its mission, spiritual values, and traditions. Process and outcome, form and content become mutually enhancing and interdependent ways of realizing the divine potential of individuals, communities, and larger organizational systems, especially when conflict, stagnation, and habit are exerting stress on the congregational or organizational system.

Giving Voice to the Unexpressed

There are many ways to interact with our sacred texts and to weave in how we experience the Divine working through us now. For example, a number of the psalms include dialogue with God. Similarly, one way I have worked with both young people and adults in the area of congregational decision-making, visioning, and planning is to ask them to write a “Dear God/Source of Life,” “Dear Self,” or “Dear Congregation” letter, allowing for a variety of comfort levels with personal theological language. This exercise provides an avenue to voice what is not in scripture but is informed by it, or to voice something that is in an individual’s heart but is not conventionally expressed. Sometimes I ask participants in this exercise to also write their own answering letters addressing their particular queries or areas of conflict or concern. What often emerges from this exercise is a soul response that is more expansive, flexible, and capable of holding polarities (even when resolution is not always accessible) than is produced by opinion sharing or conceptual discussion. The suspension of judgment and deep listening to the words beneath the words are very important in any of these exercises, just as they are in group spiritual direction or consensus building exercises.

Another exercise involves asking group members to create a human “sculpture” around a particular value as it relates to an issue requiring a decision that will impact the community at large. For example, if tikkun olam—social justice and community activism—is the chosen issue about which members are trying to develop priorities, resolve conflict, or self-educate, participants can be asked to create a sculpture representing the various values, causes, or organizations under discussion. The exercise begins with one person striking a pose expressive of the cause or value he or she wishes to represent (for instance, the environment, international relief, or ending hunger,). One by one, others take positions in relation to the first person and offer a one-word description of the aspect of tzikkun olam they represent. During the exercise, the facilitator can interview various people as to why their cause is a priority. The different members of the sculpture can be invited to dialogue among themselves (“Environmental concerns, why are you an important priority and what do you have to say about your relationship to the other priorities?”). Those remaining seated can be invited to offer what they observe and how the dialogue impacts their view of the causes they believe congregational human and financial resources should be invested in, and in what priority.

The art of inviting participants—whether in study, during worship services, in youth or adult educational settings, or at meetings or retreats—to give voice to the unspoken thoughts and feelings of characters or situations in scripture can also be a powerful way to assist members of a community to unlock insights in the Bible (“bibliodrama” 4) and discover their relevance to contemporary issues. I have employed this technique in my work with congregations. For instance, to explore the dynamics of leadership with congregational or organizational boards, committees, clergy, and staff, I often use the story of Moses receiving and acting on his father-in-law’s advice about delegating and avoiding leadership burnout to explore the dynamics of leadership (Exodus, Chapter 18, or Deuteronomy 1:9-15). Exploring the scripture bibliodramatically might involve reading a few verses of text, then inviting people to offer suggestions as to why Jethro felt compelled to give Moses his advice, or asking participants to consider what Moses really thought when he heard Jethro’s advice and why he decided to listen to him. What is gleaned from this enactment and the text itself that relates to leadership and communication issues in the community can then be explored in discussion.5

Retelling the Story

Telling a community’s story through a scriptural lens, or creating vignettes of the history of one’s congregation, school, or organization and the values it stands for can help a group realize how it can live in and create sacred community. This creative and maximalist approach is central to a productive values-based decision-making process that can be employed for crucial issues in the life of a faith-based community. A paradigmatic model suggested by Dr. David Teutsch, director of the Center for Ethics at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, consists of:

study of the sources of religious and cultural traditions and practices study of current information from the natural and social sciences (including organizational dynamics, systems theory, etc.)

reflection on personal and communal values analysis of the impact of each possible decision on each affected party democratic and inclusive processes that maximize the number of participants along the way to a final decision6 

To this approach, I have added the creative techniques for reflecting on personal and communal values described earlier in this article, as well as role playing to help in analyzing the impact of possible decisions. An in-depth process such as this may take a year or more in the life of a community, so this is not a model I would recommend for making minor decisions. However, in the areas of religious services, board governance, operating practices, financial resources, education, and involvement in social justice causes in the larger world, combining creative techniques with this serious approach to discernment can powerfully impact the level of participation, the outcome, and the ownership of decisions.

Cultivating Active Participation

Many faith communities and organizations employ such participatory processes to engage the entire congregation in renewing and reinvigorating worship services, coming to deeper ownership of congregational Shabbat practices and guidelines, and other areas of ritual. The role of clergy as teacher and guide—as well as active participant—is crucial to the success of such endeavors. By trusting that when we openly look at and name the dynamics of power, authority, and responsibility that we, as clergy or lay leaders, have in a congregational or organizational system, we can facilitate ownership by other members of the community for their part in the decision-making process—to everyone’s benefit.

An example of this occurred recently in my own life, when I became the visiting rabbi at a lay-led congregation, Dor Hadash, in Pittsburgh, a faith community experimenting with a hybrid of leadership models. In this congregation, we arranged for the signing of the rabbinic contract to be a ritual event. After the president of the congregation convened the evening, the leadership of the havurah, a subgroup within the community that, with the support of the larger congregation, had accepted responsibility for bringing a visiting rabbi to the congregation each month, shared what it meant for them to arrive at this moment. The havurah liaison and I both shared that we had experienced the contract negotiations as a truly holy conversation. We then discussed the themes of power, authority, and accountability as they occur in any group or organizational system, studied biblical and contemporary texts on leadership, and explored our hopes for our rabbi-congregational relationship.7 Next, using a ritual format often used at Jewish weddings, the president handed me the contract, asking if I agreed to the covenant of our terms. He then did the same with the havurah liaison. After we had signed the document, other havurah members were invited to sign as witnesses if they so chose. Afterward, we chanted the traditional shehekhiyanu prayer, thanking God for being the sustaining Source and for bringing us to this day. This was followed by a shared meal, where we traded stories about our personal journeys. Finally, we embarked on a three-hour planning session that laid out the year’s activities for the havurah and how it would interface with the congregation as a whole.

People remarked upon how our study together and the sacredness of the signing ritual had directly contributed to the energy, creative thinking, and enthusiasm for the decision-making and planning that followed. At evening’s end, I invited the leadership to share what they were taking away from our first collective working session. A number of participants commented that their fear of losing their voices with a rabbi present had given way to new energy, empowerment, and a sense of being supported to take on greater roles in their spiritual and communal lives. Weaving together ritual, individual and congregational stories, study, prayer, a shared meal, administrative objectives, and program planning can mutually enhance each of these components, helping to build relationships and a sense of sacred community at the same time.

I have discovered that capital campaigns and efforts to decide what type of membership dues or fee structure a community will adopt can also be enhanced by these types of creative values-based decision-making approaches. Dorshei Tzedek, a growing congregation in Newton, Massachusetts, spent a year studying money and Jewish values enroute to a community-wide vote on restructuring the congregation’s membership dues system. Having participated in a similar process to update their mission statement, they are now applying this approach to their emerging capital campaign.8

Creative and participatory approaches to the spiritual life of any community are enhanced the more people see themselves as active participants in their individual and congregational religious life. This can help narrow the divide between practices and expressed values both within a faith community and outside its walls. In addition, seeing adults become more invested in the major issues that determine the current and future actions of their community can also inspire young people to become involved.

Of course, we can misuse any creative or participatory process—to block needed action and consign decision-making to an endless process of processing, for instance. We can also hide behind anti-authoritarian approaches, undermining clergy and leaders by insisting that everyone needs to approve every decision or that consensus is required at every turn. To avoid these pitfalls, it’s important to be aware of the shadow side of any creative process when we approach core issues in sacred community creatively and with maximal member involvement. Ultimately, when we enter into discussion about an important issue in our community, we are entering sacred ground. Godliness can manifest through the approach and content of our decision-making. We are, in short, striving for a process that contains Godly values and yields an outcome that fulfills the mission of our community and the spiritual growth of the participants.

Whatever approach we take, it’s crucial that we do our homework beforehand, trust in the development of our own styles of leadership and the social and spiritual bonds in the community we are committed to. We also must recognize that we might have a strong bias in favor of a particular outcome. This is part of the creative tension when we move decision-making from an elite activity into greater communal participation. Moses faced this tension with a burgeoning community at Sinai. Managing polarities is part of the decision-making process. In the moment of a creative encounter—as in any artistically alive and spiritual moment—our task is to be present to what the relationships and dynamics in the room are calling out for, in balance with the mission and values of that community. The insights, healing, enjoyment, and challenges people will experience from such an encounter depend on this practice of presence, as do the creativity, compassion, and conscious choice-making that can be its result.

Questions for Reflection 

1. What creative approaches have been most successful in moving your community through an impasse or in dealing with a major decision? Which ones have been least successful? What contributed to the outcome of success/lack of success? What would you do differently in the future?
2. What issue in your community has not been resolved or is being avoided? What method described in this article might be applied to help deal with the lack of resolution of this issue, the tension it is causing, or the resistance to dealing with it?
3. What biblical text might resonate with an area of concern or interest in your community that might help you gain insight into that issue? How might you integrate a bibliodramatic or other creative approach to this issue?
4. Using the outline of values-based decision-making provided in this article and doing further research through the suggested resources mentioned in the footnotes, how might you structure a similar process in your community? What core issue would best be served by such an approach?
5. In what moments have you most strongly felt your faith or a Divine presence present in a major decision or activity in the life of your community? What roles did spontaneity and creativity play in this experience? What roles did study, weighing values, and open discussion of different viewpoints play?

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NOTES

1. Hasidic story about Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, as told by Rabbi Harold Schulweiss, In God’s Mirror: Reflections and Essays (Hoboken, NJ: KTAV Publishing, 1990), http://www.ktav.com.

2. From the blessing for light and creation in the shakharit, or morning service.

3. Kaplan, Mordecai, The Meaning of God in Modern Jewish Religion (Detroit: Wayne State Press, 1994), 62-3, http://wsupress. wayne.edu/index.html.

4. Peter Piztele, a therapist and psychodramatist, structured this process (which emerged in some Jewish and Christian circles in the 1970s and 1980s) into a form of interpretive play he termed “bibliodrama.” For a full description of the process of bibliodrama, see Peter Pitzele’s Scripture Windows: Towards a Practice of Bibliodrama (Los Angeles: Torah Aura Productions, 1997–98), http://www.torahaura.com. Also see http://www.icmidrash.org, the Web site of the Institute for Contemporary Midrash.

5. For a collection of texts that can be effective tools for leadership training and board and committee development, see Jewish Communal Leadership and Congregational Governance: A Resource Manual for Training and Developing Effective Boards and Committees, compiled by Rabbi Shawn Zevit and Shira Stutman (Elkins Park, PA: Reconstructionist Press, 2005), www.jrf.org.

6. For more material on Jewish valuesbased decision-making, see Rabbi Richard Hirsh and Dr. David Teutsch’s articles in The Reconstructionist: Decision Making, Volume 65, No. 2, Spring 2001 (online at www.therra.org); Rabbi Shawn Zevit’s article, “The Evolving Face of Reconstructionism,” Reconstructionism Today, Summer 2004, Volume 11, No. 3 (under Reconstructionism Today at www.jrf.org).

7. The Rabbi-Congregational Relationship: A Vision for the 21st Century, Rabbi Richard Hirsh, editor (Elkins Park, PA: Reconstructionist Press, 2001), www.jrf.org.

8. For a full case study on this community, see Shawn Zevit’s Offerings of the Heart: Money and Values in Faith Community (Herndon, VA: Alban Institute, 2005), www. alban.org; and Money and Jewish Values: A Twelve-Week Curriculum by Shawn Zevit and Shira Stutman (Elkins Park, PA: Reconstructionist Press, 2004), www.jrf.org.

The Abilene Paradox Goes to Church by Jerald L. Kirkpatrick, pastor

The letter was crystal clear: “You have precipitously dismissed the most valuable member of the church staff. And now you will pay the price.”

So it seemed. After 40 years of employment, the choir director at Sunnyvale Church was being let go. When the pastor and the personnel committee chair asked her to retire, she left the meeting in a huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reaction was swift. One-third of the choir left for another church. The organist resigned in solidarity with the director. Word got around town that after years of faithful service, Sunnyvale was cutting Louise loose. What a shame. And what a surprise!

Prolonged Indecision

Well, not so great a surprise as one might think. Investigation disclosed that a sizable group of church members had had serious reservations about Louise for years—her choice of music, her manner of dealing with people, even her musical ability. Those people had repeatedly registered complaints to the liturgy and personnel committees, but no action was taken.

The committees themselves often discussed Louise’s job performance, going so far as to warn her, “Things have got to change.” For more than 20 years, it seemed, the committees were constantly preoccupied with changing Louise and the music program.

Nothing changed. Louise continued to do as she had always done. She bullied the pastor, ignored the critics, and verbally abused the choir. Her manner became more brusque. Finally, when the pastor and personnel committee could stand it no longer, they acted. But the reaction hurt the church. Members blamed one another for the debacle, even changing sides in the debate. Before the dust settled, the pastor had left; the personnel chair had resigned; the church was divided.

Why hadn’t things changed? Why didn’t the people do what they wanted to do 30 years earlier? The answer is easy. The “Abilene Paradox” had come to church.

Feelings Concealed

The Abilene Paradox is a management concept introduced more than 25 years ago by Jerry B. Harvey.1 Harvey asks why organizations don’t do what their members agree should be done. His concept is based on an ill-fated outing he and his family made from Coleman to Abilene, Texas, on a hot summer night to eat mediocre cafeteria food. No one really wanted to go, but each agreed to make the trip, thinking everyone else favored the idea. Harvey contends that had family members disclosed their true desire to stay at home, no conflict would have surfaced later about having gone.

Old First Church had weathered many storms in its downtown location, including attempts to move the congregation to the suburbs. In recent years, however, a new generation had become active, and plans were under way to build a new sanctuary and office complex at the present site. The board appointed a building committee, and the committee hired an architect. After extensive listening sessions, the architect took what he had learned and produced a preliminary plan.

When the architectural model was shown to members, nothing seemed right. The bell tower was the wrong size. The sanctuary was not oriented properly. The traffic pattern in the office complex was unsatisfactory. The architect countered every complaint with survey results: “When we asked you about this, you said, . . .”

During this phase, First Church called a new senior pastor. In the first meeting after his arrival, he summed up what committee members already knew. The church did not need new buildings. Redecorating and minor remodeling would suffice. The committee paid the architect and thanked him for his time. The plans disappeared into a file cabinet, never to be seen again.

What had happened? The committee—and by extension, the whole congregation—had taken action contrary to the data it had for dealing with problems. As a result, problems were compounded rather than solved.2 That, in a nutshell, is the Abilene Paradox. No one wanted to be the odd one out who disagreed with the other committee members. Although countless “parking-lot discussions” may have centered on the idea’s wrong-headedness, individual members could not bring themselves to do what they privately agreed must be done. No one wanted to be exposed to humiliation, ostracism, or criticism, so each person concealed his or her feelings from the group. I am reminded of Adam, who said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself” (Gen. 3:12).

Resisting a Firm Decision

Some years ago, when I served a congregation in southwestern Oklahoma, we decided we needed an associate pastor. We asked the judicatory for names of prospective ministers and began the search. Oddly, no potential candidate seemed to have the right qualifications. As we winnowed the portfolios, we discovered that every one had some deficiency; some were unqualified for any position. Finding no candidate who met our expectations, we asked the judicatory for more names. Even with two subsequent lists, we couldn’t agree on anyone. Finally, someone in the judicatory office said, “I’m not sure this person is available, but you might try her.”

We were elated. Here was a live one. We telephoned her; she was interested. We did a phone interview and liked what we heard. She agreed to visit us.

After the visit, at which we had met her and her family, we sat down to see if we wanted to negotiate with her. Here was the moment of truth. As the discussion went back and forth, I first thought we were ready to call her. Then reservations began to surface about her family. I pointed out that we were calling her, not hiring her family. More discussion followed. People wondered if she would stay with us only long enough to get a church of her own. I countered that two or three years were better than none.

Finally, it became clear that no one wanted to call an associate. Each had held this opinion for some time, but no one had expressed reservations in the committee. I understood then why it had been so difficult to reach this stage. We didn’t want to get there. We were desperately looking for a reason not to call an associate. It was too painful to admit that we had neither the money nor the size to support another full-time pastor.

With difficulty, the committee chair confessed our predicament to the candidate. She graciously accepted our decision, but did point out that we had strung her along for quite a while. A few months later, we hired a part-time youth director through a local employment agency. We all agreed that we had done the right thing.

Phony Conflict

Why did we focus on the candidate’s family or her career plans while hiding our agreement not to hire anyone at all? Harvey calls this behavior “phony conflict.”

Phony conflict occurs in the Abilene Paradox because people agree on the actions they want to take and then do the opposite. The resulting anger, frustration, and scapegoating—generally termed conflict—are not based on real differences. Rather they stem from the protective reactions that occur when a decision that no one believed in or was committed to in the first place goes sour. In fact, as a paradox within a paradox, such conflict is symptomatic of agreement.3

I believe that my own strong advocacy for calling an associate made the committee’s job harder. Since no one wanted to disagree with the pastor, each person assumed everyone else was on board. In fact, my response to questions about the candidate’s family or motivations could be seen as bullying. Had the committee failed to discover that the congregation could not afford another professional staff person, we might have continued on the road to Abilene, blaming each other when things did not turn out well.

Blame Game

That, in fact, did happen in a church served by one of my old classmates. The senior pastor lobbied for an associate; the committee found one and recommended him to the congregation. All sorts of reservations were evident, but no one spoke up. Finally, after two or three years of difficulty, in which the associate was judged a “wrong fit” and the senior pastor was characterized as a martinet, members resorted to expressing their frustration and anger in the offering plate. Both senior and associate pastors had to leave. Both were damaged, spiritually and professionally.

What is the alternative to “going to Abilene”? What can leaders and pastors do to avoid this potential disaster? Harvey thinks organizations can do many things; by extension, so can congregations. People must break the cycle of silence and blame that accompany the Abilene Paradox.

Speaking Truth in Love

The best way is open confrontation—preferably in a group setting.4 The accuser must tell the truth—speak the truth in love, as we church people are disposed to say. The accuser must own up to his or her position and prepare to take the consequences. This approach lets the group know that the accuser fears the committee is about to make a decision contrary to the church’s best interests. One might say something like this:

I know I may have said things before that made you think I was supportive of what we are about to do, but I have had other thoughts. I don’t think we will succeed in doing this. In fact, I believe we will be acting against the church’s interests if we do it. I wonder if anyone else thinks as I do. Actually, I’m pretty sure most of you do. If we don’t do something now, we will recommend a project to the church that is bound to fail, and hurt us in the process. I need to know where you stand.

The accuser can expect two kinds of results—technical and existential. For the accuser, the existential experience seems more important.

At my Oklahoma church, we experienced a technical result. We stopped negotiations with our candidate, regrouped, and hired a part-time youth director. Everyone agreed that our change of direction was warranted, and the passage of time confirmed that.

On the other hand, Sunnyvale Church suffered existentially. Many people felt hurt by the forced retirement of the music director. A sense of failure pervaded the congregation, and people looked for a scapegoat. The church did not resolve anything until members admitted their own complicity.

How does the Abilene Paradox come to church? It comes just as it comes to any other organization. All organizations are made up of human beings, and, as prophets have told us, humanity is prone to act against its own best interests. How is the Abilene Paradox prevented? One does that by recognizing the symptoms, confronting them, and being forthright with each other. Or, as we say in church, by speaking the truth in love.

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NOTES

1. Jerry B. Harvey, “The Abilene Paradox: The Management of Agreement,” Organizational Dynamics (summer, 1974). Harvey is professor of management science at George Washington University, Washington, D.C.

2. Ibid., 20.

3. Ibid., 28f.

4. Ibid., 32f.

In Decision-Making, Begin with Love by Nancy James, leadership development expert

Conversations about solutions often begin with what isn’t possible. But starting with what you love about possible options can energize and motivate your team.

Business management specialist Jennifer Riel was facilitating a conversation about an adaptive problem when she asked a question that changed the atmosphere in the room.

“What do you love about this solution?”

As group members considered different solutions to a problem they were facing, this question lifted their energy and creative thinking. Riel, the associate director of the Desautels Centre for Integrative Thinking at the University of Toronto’s Rotman School of Management, invited the participants in the Generative Solutions retreat to imagine themselves living into the solutions they were considering.

How often have you experienced decision-making conversations that began by asking what you would love about the possible solutions? Why is it that we are more likely to begin with what we won’t love, or the equivalent of what isn’t possible?

Meetings seem to bring out the hard-wired tendency of groups to begin with the downside of proposed solutions. You have probably helped decorate walls with paper filled with lists and concluded meetings wondering how the final solution actually emerged from the conversation. Typically in these situations, people leave unsure about what to do next.

When Riel asked the participants what they loved, she changed the conversation.

The question focuses on what is most meaningful to those participating in the decision. Using integrative thinking, stakeholders are able to consider how variables they care about can be combined and improved upon to enhance the eventual solution even further.

When individuals can imagine themselves implementing the solution, you have created natural alignment and commitment. Energy for implementation will be easier to muster and maintain.

Because adaptive problems and their potential solutions affect multiple constituents, we teach Generative Solutions participants to view the implementation of new solutions as experiments. Experimenting -- including collecting feedback and making adjustments -- helps contribute to more robust solutions.

We can also apply some form of “What do you love?” to those decisions that leaders must make and implement alone.

For instance, ask yourself: What do I love about having to give difficult feedback to someone I care about? Your answer is probably, “Nothing!” But what if you press on the question a bit more?

Your answers might be: Because they will hear it from someone who cares about them and wants them to succeed. Because it may prevent someone else from providing it, in perhaps a less helpful way.

Consider the alternative: I love the decision not to give feedback now because… Your reasons might be that you need time to prepare with a concrete example of the problematic behavior or that you need a clearer way to describe the impact of the problematic behavior.

How do you foster positive responses to group decision-making?

What do you love about changing to a positive approach when considering alternative solutions to problems with your team?

What do you love about changing to a positive mindset when facing tough individual decisions?

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