A light brush with angels

"The bank is something else than men. It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It's the monster. Men made it, but they can't control it." — John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

This just about describes how I think of banks, and why I choose not to work in, or for any financial institution. I have friends who work in banks, quite a few friends in fact. It seems that most of the people I know in my work community are now, or have recently been engaged by one bank or another. They go in as agents of transformation, cultural and process change advisors, business consultants, coaches. They don't stand a chance. The monster gets them every time, chews them up and spits them out. Some of them end up in retail.

Retail has its own monsters too, of course, as do all human structures. In his "Powers" trilogy the theologian Walter Wink describes these invisible entities as the angels of nations, the angels of corporations. This is not an original idea, but one that is drawn from scripture. Wink's contribution was to take the language seriously, not simply brush it off as superstition the way our reductionist minds or our secular bias would have us do. There is wisdom to be mined, and ideas to wake us up—and trip us up—if we choose to seek.

In the book of Revelation, John of Patmos writes letters to the seven churches of Asia, but unlike Paul's letters John's are not written to the church leaders, nor even the congregations. They are addressed very specifically to the angels of the churches. What does this mean? According to Walter Wink John of Patmos is addressing the very spirit of each church. He's not writing to some warm, friendly guardian angel (a more recent idea) but to something that today we might call, rather clumsily "the whole greater than the sum of its parts". We still today recognise that a group of people is more than a group of people. It has identity. It's identity comes into existence as the group forms and vanishes as the group disperses. It has no existence apart from the group, not some disembodied spirit hanging around waiting for a group to form, but rather created as part of the formation, integrated and integral.

Consider a mob. Mobs form spontaneously, often from otherwise well-behaved, kind, gentle people. Yet integrated, each part of the mob, each member, behaves with anger, violence and madness. And when the mob has dispersed those same people scratch their heads and say, "I don't know what came over me". The angel came over you.

Our corporations are like mobs. They form, and their angels form with them. An organisation formed with good intent will be aligned with its angel, reaching for the light, clear in its vocation, but as it's purpose becomes muddied by personal desire, by greed, glory and self-interest the angel gets dragged down into the same ugliness, and becomes monstrous. The deeper the organisation falls, the tougher the climb to redemption. This explains why so many struggling or violent, destructive organisations, despite the best intentions of new leaders, guides and consultants are unable change: they cannot overcome the angel of their own creation. Men made it but they can't control it.

Going smaller, perhaps every interaction, every friendship, every conversation has its angel, the presence that exists between two people, the thing we name "relationship". How well do we nurture the angels of our marriages, our companionships, our friendships, even our business dealings? Maybe not always so well. It's something to think about perhaps. And I'll leave it there.

June News

I had my own waking up in June. I participated in Francis Laleman's Cooperative Facilitation workshop. Francis is a master craftsman when it comes to holding space for creativity. His gentle approach, his kind heart, and his immense well of knowledge and wisdom combined to free me from stuck patterns of teaching, and remind me of my own rich heritage of theatre and somatic approaches to group work. My own workshops since have taken on a new energy, an edgy, unexpectedness. It's very enjoyable—for me! I hope for the participants too :)

And it rained a lot in June. A lot—maybe especially in Sheffield. This was good for us as our garden flourished, but less good for the children's usual outdoor gatherings and activities. Californians used to ask me why English people talked about the weather so much. My response was always, "because we have it." And after being back here for three years now, after seventeen in (as I selectively remember it) perpetual sunshine I embrace the conversations, the wonderful moments when the sun breaks through and people walk out of their doors to enjoy the warmth, and to air their homes and talk to passers by about...the weather. It's a very friendly place, Sheffield.

This newsletter is about a week late. It had something to do with prioritisation. Not that I deprioritized it, I just didn't choose it. I indulged in some creative procrastination instead. My intent for next time is to procrastinate and not feel guilty. I am a work in progress.

Other stuff happened in June too, I'm sure, but now June seems to be a long time in the past, so I don't remember. Rayna and I painted. Walls and skirting boards, not pictures. That was a big thing. And I imagined, described and scheduled some new workshops for the summer and autumn. That was the extent of my creativity.

And what shall we anticipate in July? Here's a few lines from George Meredith, to set the mood:

Blue July, bright July,
Month of storms and gorgeous blue;
Violet lightnings o'er thy sky,
Heavy falls of drenching dew;

I think a storm is expected this week. But this is England. Weather has a mind of its own. I'll write again at the end of the month, procrastination allowing.

Tobias


8th July 2019, 8 pm