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You've heard about, um, what's his name?, Treacy maybe (looks like TREE-see but pronounced like Tracy)? with the three paths to biz success: operational efficiency, superior technology, customer intimacy?
I happened to see this just now in Drucker's Managing for Results (H&R 1964), p. 200:General Motors, for instance, clearly prizes excellence in business development and business management (operational efficiency). At General Electric, on the other hand, people were for many years encouraged not to concern themselves much with business, but to excel as scientists or engineers (superior technology). IBM, until recently, stressed the ability to produce sales and customers, with the district sales manager the key man (customer intimacy - sort of)
(green italics mine).
When did Treacy's book come out (Discipline of Market Leaders, 1997?) -- and how many years earlier did Drucker point out practically the same thing - 30 or more? The guy was a genius.
The editors of the New International Version (NIV) render the third commandment "You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God...," which, though a little less obscure than "take... in vain", leaves unanswered the question, "What exactly is being prohibited here?"
As a little boy, I may have asked my mother about this -- I'm not sure -- but I somehow got the idea that this commandment was about cussing. Which it is, sort of, but only peripherally; this Third Commandment (out of ten!) is, according to what I heard a few years ago, really about something far more serious. Come to think of it, this happens a fair amount in Israel's history, and the Lord seems pretty seriously aggrieved when it happens.
Here's what it means to misuse the Lord's name, or to take the name of the Lord in vain: it means to attach the name of the Lord to something that he's not behind. So if I have a dream -- a project that I'm excited about or whatever -- then I can say "I have a project I'm excited about" or "I have a dream..." and there's no problem. But if I say "The Lord told me to do this project" then I'm probably taking the name of the Lord in vain -- and if I know I'm just making it up then I am certainly taking his name in vain, misusing the name of the Lord.
So when false prophets say, "Thus says the Lord," and the Lord has not said that, they're misusing the name of the Lord; they are attaching his name to an empty thing, a vain thing.
And since some of my dreams or wishes are pretty empty, pretty vain, there's certainly a temptation to dress 'em up and make them seem more important by saying they're God's projects or plans rather than mine. Jonestown is a horrible example of what can happen when God's name is stuck onto somebody's project; so is 9-11.
So I guess the thing is to be careful: if I think the Lord is doing something, then it may be OK to say that I think the Lord is doing something. But if I want something to happen a certain way, and if I say the Lord does too, then I'd better be pretty certain that I'm not just making it all up. And if somebody else says the Lord wants to do something, then it's wise to see if that person is just putting God's name on his own project, versus discerning what the Lord is doing on His own initiative.
The elder teen was in one of the school offices, when a teacher from last semester saw her. "You miss me," he said in sing-song. "You know you miss my class..." He picked up a little bell, tinkling it near her ear.
She misses him, but not the class. The class was pretty tough, and not everything in it was all that useful. How many presidents from the 16th to the 30th served exactly two terms? (The answer on the exam was just the number, which you got right or wrong; you don't write down the names and get partial credit for remembering some of them.) (btw I just made up those numbers)
I asked, "Did he say he missed you?"
Yes, he did. "Well, I miss you. But at least I've got your lovely sister. She's a great artist." (The younger teen is in his class the whole year.)
"Right," she replied. "She is lovely, and she is a great artist."
Today's Old Testament passage reminded me of a time I interpreted the sermon at Kobe Bible Fellowship. Interpreting a sermon was both harder and easier than I thought it would be -- easier because Tomohiro-san walked me through the message beforehand, and harder because I couldn't possibly remember all the new vocabulary, and also because standing in front of a crowd is always nervous-making for an introvert like me.
But here was the setting. Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, comes to see him in the desert, bringing Moses’ wife and their children. Moses must have figured the thing with confronting Pharaoh and the plagues and all would have been rather much to have his wife and children watch. So Jethro comes to visit, and he hears all about the deliverance from Egypt, and the next day he sees Moses sitting as judge, and people coming to him "from morning till evening" (Exodus 18.13). Jethro asks him what this is all about (presumably he does not speak Hebrew) and Moses explains. Here's the interesting part.
Moses’ father-in-law replied, “What you are doing is not good. You and these people who come to you will only wear yourselves out. The work is too heavy for you; you cannot handle it alone. Listen now to me and I will give you some advice, and may God be with you.
Exodus 18.17-19
Jethro goes on to explain the idea of delegation, of building the organization's capabilities -- what some present-day management gurus call "sharpening the saw" (or the axe) -- or what Oncken used to call "moving the fulcrum" (think "leverage" and "lever"). What Moses should do, he says, is to teach the people about God's laws, and appoint people of integrity to serve as judges over thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens.
Moses takes Jethro's advice, and it works.
I wondered briefly why this story was considered important enough to include in the Bible. Was it so that we would know, 3,000 years later, that one can go to business school (as either a student or instructor) and still follow God?
Here's what I think, which is also what Tomohiro-san's sermon was about: that when information comes, it's worth listening to, even if it's in the form of a rebuke. When somebody doesn't like my work, my immediate reaction is to think, "It's not that bad, is it? I did it because..."
But better to listen, see what useful truth is in the advice (which can sometimes be tactless), and take what's good. Because most of the time, critics (used in the positive sense here) have good intentions. And even if they don't, they still might have something useful to tell us.
And what makes it possible to reduce our defensiveness, to listen for truth rather than being defensive? What I've found is that when I can remember I belong to God, that he is the one I ultimately answer to, that my identity and self-worth isn't based on how well I do things or how popular I am -- that's when advice and rebuke is easier to take.
May we remember today whose we are and who we are ultimately.
Do you know that line in the "Lord's Prayer" that says Give us this day our daily bread? Today's Old Testament reading shows us what "daily bread" might mean, literally. At this point, the people of Israel had left Egypt; they've crossed the Red Sea miraculously on dry ground while the pursuing Egyptian army drowned; and they're now out of food.
Then the Lord said to Moses, "I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day...."
from Exodus 16.4
There's an interesting pattern to this stuff; it falls six days out of seven, and the stuff spoils when kept overnight, usually. But what really fascinates me about this stuff is that it ceases to feel miraculous after a while.
On one hand, it's surprising. Imagine -- you're out in the desert with nothing to eat, and one morning all this edible stuff appears on the ground. And the next morning too. But they get used to it, come to expect it, come to despise it.
How about us? Could we get used to bread falling from heaven six days out of seven? I think yes. I don't know about you, but when I look at the things I'm used to right now, I'm astonished.
I wake up every morning; in spite of all the things that could have happened during the night, I'm still here, and have been for over half a century. In spite of all the dangers, including crazy drivers on the freeways, the San Andreas fault, toxic chemicals all over the valley -- in spite of all those, my wife and children are alive and with me. Several times a week, I open a metal box, climb into it, and am transported faster than the fastest man has ever run. And every morning, my little part of the world rotates in such a way that a golden ball of fire appears to rise in the eastern sky, bringing light and beauty for us to see.
I've gotten used to all those things -- I could certainly get used to bread from heaven. I could even start to complain about it. (Come to think of it, I do complain sometimes about my six-times-a-week oatmeal.) So, though I've sometimes thought of these Israelites as being silly (Weren't they rescued miraculously from their captors? Weren't they fed miraculously every day? Why then could they doubt God?) I have to confess that I'm silly myself. (Haven't I been blessed just as much as they were? Why then do I sometimes doubt?)
May we receive every blessing today with appreciation. May we see them for the gifts that they are, and not take them for granted. Let's receive them with joy. This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Driving the kids to school this morning, I was making a right turn onto Marsh. The light hadn't yet turned green for me, but there was a big gap in the right-hand lane, so I went for it. A quick check revealed a 60-plus foot gap on my left, so I slid into it, pursued closely by a red Land Rover, who followed me as we went for the left-turn light (still green!) on Bay Road.
I remarked that the Land Rover didn't look too happy about being behind me (he was following pretty close) "but," I added, "if he'd been driving a little faster, he'd be in front of me."
"Oh Dad," said the elder teen in mock(?) exasperation, "you're such a boy."
I was speechless.
OK, being a boy isn't a Deadly Sin™, and it isn't on the list from today's reading either. And where did the Catholic church get that list of deadly sins, anyway? Not having grown up Catholic, I never memorized them; I only have a vague idea, from Art Buchwald, that they include pride, gluttony, sloth, envy, and lust. Today's reading in Proverbs has this list:
There are six things the Lord hates,
seven that are detestable to him: - haughty eyes,
- a lying tongue,
- hands that shed innocent blood,
- a heart that devises wicked schemes,
- feet that are quick to rush into evil,
- a false witness who pours out lies
- and a man who stirs up dissension among brothers.
Proverbs 6.16-19
The lists do overlap some, but they're far from identical.
Here's something I noticed, though: Ever heard the phrase "hate the sin, love the sinner"? One can hate the proud look (as I believe the King James Version has it) without hating the person who has it. But look at the end of the list! It says the Lord hates, he detests a false witness. And he detests a man (or woman I suppose) who stirs up dissension among brothers.
What's that about? Can it really mean that? I'm not really sure, but anyway there's a list of things I want to be really careful not to have, or to be. So help me God.
Yesterday the lovely Carol went to the store and came back with some sweet snack food. She told me about it after dinner, but she added, "Better not let me see it." She explained that "if I see it, I'll want it."
This immediately came to my mind (but not to my lips; the kids were nearby): "Better not take your clothes off in front of me...."
