There are many external marks of leadership—and in my case I have quite a spectacular set: the scarlet robes of a cardinal are hard to beat for dramatic effect. They are particularly noticeable when I wear them on the subway, especially if they get caught in the turnstile. But whether it be a crown or scarlet robes or the corner office, the signs of leadership are simply meant to be helpful signs that allow the leader to serve the community: like a bright flag that by its visual prominence can provide a rallying point for the troops in battle.
Signs are vital in life—language itself is made up of signs that allow us to communicate. Signs, including signs of authority, are meant to lead us beyond ourselves to think of the great cause in which we are engaged. Signs always point us from where we are to where we are meant to be; they always indicate a reality greater than themselves, and so can have a powerful and necessary effect. We must watch out, however, that we not become enchanted by them. That is why amid the splendour of a papal coronation in days of yore, a person would come up to the new Pope every few minutes, light a bit of flax and, as it disappeared in a puff of smoke, say, “Thus passes the glory of this world.”
Leadership, if it is to be fruitful, must be based on character and not be defined by the outward signs that accompany it. They are simply tools, often useful tools, to advance the deeper purpose. We are all in trouble when, as too often happens in this fallen world, people get addicted to the signs of authority but do not attend to the deeper requirement of a virtuous life, a life founded on the inner substance that is character.
The Benefit of Inauguration Rites
I have mentioned the little ego-puncturing ceremony that used to be a part of the papal coronation. We should all value the experience of inauguration rites, which are designed to remind both the one entering into leadership and the community he or she is to serve of the substance of their mission. In some ways, these rites are like a wedding: though what matters is really the marriage and not the wedding, the words of the wedding rite provide guidance for the conduct of the marriage. That is why we should all go to weddings more often.
So too with ordination rites, which I have occasion to celebrate regularly. Before a person enters into spiritual leadership as a deacon, priest or bishop, he must lie flat on the floor while the community asks all the angels and saints to join with them in praying that he will be found faithful in fulfilling the office committed to him. I am not sure it is reasonable to ask someone who gets a promotion in a corporate setting to lie flat on the floor before taking on new duties, but some similar gesture of humility on the part of company leaders might improve every workplace and enterprise.
The royal psalms in the Old Testament were used at the anointing of the king, to place before him the model of how he should exercise leadership as a servant of God, responsible for the community. We know that most of the actual kings did not pay much attention to what was expected of them, but nonetheless the words of the psalm provided a reminder of the path to follow, and a standard of accountability.
It is good to attend all kinds of inauguration rites: baptisms, weddings, ordinations, religious professions—but also the civil equivalents in business and politics. They help the community to place the right vision of leadership before the individual entering into it, and before the members of the community itself.
The servant Leader and the Ego: Serving the common Good
The most important title of the Pope is “Servant of the Servants of God”: leadership must be based upon a humble commitment to serve the members of the community. That title of the Pope, like his other main title “Pontifex,” or “bridge-builder,” can be valuable as a guide for all who are called to a position of responsibility for others, or to some form of leadership.
Effective and fruitful leadership means being a pontifex, a bridge-builder, who seeks to overcome the divisions within the community, for only a community that is united can attain the purpose that gives it meaning. In practice, one of the most difficult and at times discouraging, but ultimately rewarding, aspects of leadership is bridging the chasms that divide the members of the community and seeking to build bridges to the wider society. Leadership is always, in some way, in the service of the unity that is essential for the life of a community.
But the key is character, and that means overcoming the ego—which positions of leadership can puff up—so that the leader may be a servant of the servants of God. True leadership of any kind always requires a forgetfulness of self, a willingness to sacrifice for the community. We all know the rule of the sea, that the captain must be the last to leave the ship, and when that rule is broken, we see manifest a failure in leadership. A military officer must care for the troops.
What is needed is character, which means among other things a willingness to sacrifice our own interests for the common good of the people entrusted to our care, and for the greater cause we all serve.
That means that each person in the community needs to understand more deeply the purpose of the community. One of the key roles of the leader of a community is to know deeply the vision that guides it and to articulate that for the benefit of all. That, too, is a servant's role: to serve the members of the community by helping everyone to grow in dedication to the common vision that gives meaning and purpose to life.
That means that a leader must spend precious time each day reflecting on the guiding vision; it is important to not speed quickly down the road but to pause to look at the map. A hero of mine since I was a teenager, Bishop Sheen, recommended that every priest spend an hour each day in prayer before the Holy Eucharist, praying over the words of Scripture and offering the day to God, seeking to be more fully disposed to encounter God and to do His will. When a priest said that he was too busy doing the work of the Lord to spend a whole hour every day in quiet prayer, Bishop Sheen said to then spend two hours. In the Catholic Church, that practice of the daily Holy Hour is the foundation for many a priestly life, and I am sure that other religious traditions have similar practices. If you know where you are going, you are more likely to get there. Everyone needs to think of that, and it is the special responsibility of those who lead to take time each day to ponder the path ahead.
The great enemy is ego. Ego is, to some degree, essential: everyone needs a solid sense of self. “God made me, and he doesn't make trash.” The drive that impels us to excellence and that is often spurred by not-so-worthy motives, such as fame, the approval of others, wealth and so on, is not inherently wrong and, in fact, can accomplish much good. Some of that drive is needed in a leader. It was said of the Duke of Wellington that his troops were fortunate that he did not have much self-doubt. Similarly, if I were being operated on in a hospital, I would want a surgeon who is good, and who knows it, over one sunk in a fit of self-doubt and uncertainty.
But although a healthy ego is good and provides some of the drive necessary for effectiveness in life and in leadership, when leaders get drunk on ego, as can easily happen in any community, then all of us will suffer.
When there is an excess of ego, people either seek too much control of others or are under the bewitching illusion that they are in control. We can totally control only that which is not worth controlling. Whenever a person is caught in the ego-driven illusion of control, he or she is not capable of leading the community to greatness, for that always means motivating and guiding all of the members of the community to advance its mission. The most fruitful leadership always involves not just delegating but also coaching others to assume real, creative and effective leadership themselves.
This is the model of leadership enunciated in William Oncken's book, Managing Management Time, and is exemplified in Pope John Paul II's method of developing World Youth Day. I was on the committee of bishops responsible for the World Youth Day in Toronto in 2002. The Pope had set out several very clear principles that we had to respect—for example, that World Youth Day was about Christ and not about the Pope. He did not try to impose his will on the whole enterprise or to micromanage. As long as we followed the basic principles, there was an immense amount of creative freedom, which allowed World Youth Day to become far more than any one person, even the Pope, could have imagined or produced. That is a model of strong, ego-free leadership.
The Lord of the Rings provides us with another insight into true leadership. There must not be dependence on the debilitating power that the ring offers, to make things happen without sacrifice, to give the ring bearer control. Those who succumb to that temptation, even seeking to exercise self-aggrandizing control in the cause of good, wither away. No, it is through the self-sacrificial fellowship of the little hobbits and their friends that the power of the Dark Lord, that paragon of ego-driven control, is destroyed.
In our relationships with one another, we need to invite love and to share with the wisdom of the candle: try to surround it and it goes out; let go and it grows brighter. Love cannot be compelled, and a leadership based upon compulsion will be fruitless.
A person wrapped up in himself makes a very small package; to be a servant of the servants of God is a more spiritually rewarding approach, and one that allows for the flourishing of the whole community, for the ego-driven leader brings to bear on the problems we face only the talents that are within, while discouraging others. No one has all the answers.
This is why deference can be dangerous. It is said that in most air crashes caused by pilot error, the chief pilot is the one at the controls at the time of the crash. That is why it is so crucial that the co-pilot feel no hesitation to ask: “What is that mountain goat doing in the clouds ahead?” Final authority is essential, but it has to be tempered by the freedom of others to speak truth to power—it has to welcome that and facilitate it. That does not mean encouraging murmuring in the community (a problem faced by Moses as he tried to lead the people through the desert), or whining or fruitless complaints. Leadership also attracts that, to no good purpose.
Perhaps a good model for action, balancing fruitful consultation and decisiveness, is found in the Rule of Saint Benedict: when any important decision is to be made, the abbot will call together the whole community and ask the opinion of each, beginning with the youngest. It is instructive that the youngest is asked first. It allows him the chance to speak freely without fear that he will contradict the older monks. Only after hearing the whole community will the abbot decide what to do.
Ultimately, he will be held accountable for the decision, and awareness of that is also good, as long as it does not lead to the paralysis of analysis as the leader vainly seeks to find the perfect decision. This is wise advice for students: do not write the best essay you can write. Write the best essay you can write by Monday morning, when it is due. Then, hand it in and move on.
If we were merely isolated individuals, we could simply live on our own. But no one is an island entire unto himself. We are by nature members of communities, and so, in our interdependence, we need leadership that helps promote the common good.
It is the nature of leadership, in whatever form it takes, that it is founded on care for the common good—not simply the good of self.
Forms of Leadership: Authority and Influence
Authority is needed, for we are a community, and we need someone who makes decisions for the common good. We need someone to decide. There is a Jesuit joke I once heard: spiritual directors who advise individuals discern; provincials who govern the community decide.
Along those lines, it has been said that a bishop should not exercise direct authority 95 per cent of the time, but that other five per cent, he must not fail to exercise authority. Another useful point is found in the Vatican handbook for bishops. Since bishops make a lot of decisions every day, it is likely that they will make a lot of mistakes, and so they need to be humble.
Influence is an equally important form of leadership, but more subtle. We need leaders who will help us to be what God wants us to be and who promote the common good through gentle and often invisible influence, not authority. These leaders offer the gift of insight.
As authority is the skeleton of the community, influence is the breath and the blood. What do we need: skeleton or blood? We need both. A skeleton alone is nothing but dry bones; blood alone is a puddle on the floor. We are often called to exercise leadership in society more by influence than by authority—and often influence is more effective.
Consider Gandhi, a leader who never occupied any office of authority but whose influence was enormous. Consider the saints, whose authority was limited but whose influence was worldwide.
Both authority and influence are needed. Fruitful influence gives life but requires the structure afforded by authority. Where authority is not exercised, the result is not freedom but the domination of the weak by the strong. Authority is not enough, but without authority we are in the world of nature, red in tooth and claw.
Both forms of leadership are essential, and both depend on the character of the leader and on the recognition by the community that the leader is a person of integrity who cares more for them and for the mission in which they are engaged than for self. If that essential element is missing, both forms of leadership are ineffective.
In England in the 19th century, the Catholic Church was blessed with two great leaders who both faithfully served the community, though they seemed personally not to have been able to get along with one another—God writes straight with crooked lines: John Henry Cardinal Newman, the leader of influence, and Dr. Henry Edward Cardinal Manning, the leader of authority. Both were needed.
The Grain of Sand that Makes the Pearl: the Limited Leader with Feet of Clay
It seems that some of the greatest leaders have great flaws or weaknesses. These flaws can destroy, or they can be fruitful if the person learns through the experience of weakness the limits of self, and the need for others and for God. The experience of failure, and of limitation, can lead to useless bitterness or it can prepare the way for greatness. As it says in the Book of Sirach: “If you come forward to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for temptation. Set your heart right and be steadfast, and do not be hasty in time of calamity.” (Sirach 2:1-2)
A strong but punctured ego is important for fruitful leadership, and the experience of limitation or failure can provide that service and dispel the illusions that can bewitch. The movie The King's Speech tells the story of the shy prince with the speech impediment who, through suffering and embarrassing failure, attained a greatness that eluded his more spectacular brother, who always succeeded with ease. When King George VI died, Winston Churchill, who knew something about leadership, placed a wreath on his casket with the words of the Victoria Cross: “For Valour.”
In the Old Testament, God chose Moses, not his more eloquent brother Aaron, to lead the people. President Lincoln, after trying several more superficially accomplished generals, finally found in General Ulysses S. Grant a leader who could win the Civil War. When people complained that General Grant drank too much, Lincoln reportedly said that if they could tell him the brand of whiskey Grant used, he would send a barrel to each of his other generals. Grant did superbly well the one thing that the situation required of him: he fought.
Jesus did not entrust leadership to the beloved disciple, but to Peter, who had denied him and who then repented and came to the deeper wisdom that is beyond innocence: the wisdom of humility gained from experience.
The leader must be oriented beyond himself or herself. The leader is a servant of the servants of God, servant of the common good, servant of the Lord, not of self. The danger for all is that the leader can become self-absorbed and thus blinded to what is needed for the common good.
That is why a requirement for almost all leaders, whether of influence or authority, is the experience of failure, or frailty—experience that leads not to bitterness or discouragement but to wisdom and compassion.
A leader isolated in excellence is headed for disaster, and the community is as well.
I will end with some wisdom from John Henry Cardinal Newman. Whatever our mission in the community, and all are called in different ways to be both followers and leaders, we need to be grounded. Illusion is the great enemy, as the ancient fathers of the desert remind us. That means daily prayer, especially in times of stress, for the faster the wheel is spinning, the more the hub must be secure. And that means being attentive to the simple, daily routines of life in which true greatness is found. We need to know our strengths and weaknesses, learn from both and realize our dependence on one another and especially upon God. Cardinal Newman outlined the simple daily path to holiness and to wholeness for his religious community. It expresses a Catholic vision of life—when I was preparing seminarians for the priesthood, I used to give each a copy—but people of other faiths can adapt it according to their own spiritual tradition:
A Short Road to Perfection
It is the saying of holy men that if we wish to be perfect, we have nothing more to do than to perform the ordinary duties of the day well. A short road to perfection—short, not because easy, but because pertinent and intelligible. There are no short ways to perfection, but there are sure ones.
I think this is an instruction which may be of great practical use to persons like ourselves. It is easy to have vague ideas what perfection is, which serve well enough to talk about, when we do not intend to aim at it; but as soon as a person really desires and sets about seeking it himself, he is dissatisfied with anything but what is tangible and clear, and constitutes some kind of direction towards the practice of it.
We must bear in mind what is meant by perfection.
It does not mean any extraordinary service, anything out of the ordinary, or especially heroic—not all have the opportunity of heroic acts, of sufferings—but it means what the word perfection ordinarily means. By perfect we mean that which has no flaw in it, that which is complete, that which is consistent, that which is sound—we mean the opposite to imperfect. As we know well what imperfection in religious service means, we know by the contrast what is meant by perfection.
He, then, is perfect who does the work of the day perfectly, and we need not go beyond this to seek for perfection. You need not go out of the round of the day.
I insist on this because I think it will simplify our views, and fix our exertions on a definite aim.
If you ask me what you are to do in order to be perfect, I say, first –
Do not lie in bed beyond the due time of rising; give your first thoughts to God;
make a good visit to the Blessed Sacrament;
say the Angelus devoutly;
eat and drink to God's glory;
say the Rosary well;
be recollected; keep out bad thoughts;
make your evening meditation well;
examine yourself daily; go to bed in good time, and you are already perfect. —Meditation and Devotions
