(RNS) On New Year’s Day, I sat down at my computer and created a new financial management spreadsheet for my business.
I decided to use a different approach this year, combining the convenience of “cloud computing,” advanced software and a better backup system that my son showed me.
The next day, I switched to a more agile writing application, also employing recent advances in technology.
All of this came a week after relocating my primary work environment to reclaim our living room as a room for living, not working.
Standard New Year’s stuff, you say. Yes, I suppose it is. Same with the five resolutions I made for 2010.
Yet these changes reflect my freedom to learn from experience and to change course without someone crowing at how stupid I had been before. The two go hand in hand.
We are unlikely to learn from experience if the cost of doing so is being pounced on with blame and gloating. The phrases that kill relationships and stifle creativity are “I told you so,” “You should have listened to me,” anything beginning with “You never” or “You always,” and any response that says, “I’m glad you finally figured out what I have known all along …”
You can tell a marriage is in trouble when partners dredge up long-ago failings and turn a course correction into a victory dance. You can tell statesmanship has vanished when politicians dredge up old campaign promises to undermine the learning-by-experience that should be required of all leaders.
There is no virtue in consistency. The great teachers in life are failure and challenge, not success and smooth sailing. Any person who is too fearful and rigid to “learn on the job” can’t be trusted.
History matters and tradition matters — not as straitjackets, but as guides to what must be learned. Even bedrock documents like the Bible and Constitution must undergo a constant process of interpretation, as reality and experience shed new light.
It would be tragic if we approached faith as if nothing had changed or been learned since 400 B.C., or if we approached today’s challenges as if we were still a new and largely agricultural nation protected by oceans and cast-iron cannons.
Anyone who has ever attempted to gain sobriety, mend their ways, correct a flaw, learn from failure or embrace new learning knows that the main obstacles are people who resist their changing. We live in systems, and when one member of a system — family, workplace, political party, friendship circle — tries to “change the dance,” the entire system tends to fight back.
The alcoholic family, for example, knows how to deal with Mom as a drunk. Dealing with her sober, however, requires the whole family to change.
Similarly, a political campaign draws certain lines, defines certain roles and elevates certain ideas. The aftermath — actually holding office, actually dealing with the one holding office — requires everyone to adapt.
Pouncing on inconsistency is mere bullying. What we want are smart and nimble leaders who can deal effectively with the crises no one anticipated and with the complexity that stump speeches didn’t need to address.
In faith, as comforting as it is to memorize ancient words, there is no substitute for doing what Jesus did: walking about, learning along the way, changing his mind, embracing new ideas, and accepting unexpected outcomes.
(Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York. He is the author of “Just Wondering, Jesus,” and the founder of the Church Wellness Project, http://www.churchwellness.com. His Web site is http://www.morningwalkmedia.com.)
