The Pope & the CEO
Page 8
The Habit of Right-Thinking
The first trick has to do with your attitude or the thoughts on which you allow your mind to dwell.
The older guards always told us that doing sentinel duty reluctantly or grudgingly makes the action twice as hard. They were right. That’s because when you resent something, your resentment becomes the focus of your thoughts. You dwell on it, ruminate on it, and every little thing that’s difficult about what you’re doing is magnified. If, on the other hand, your attitude is positive, if you willingly embrace what you’ve been asked or, in the Swiss Guard’s case, ordered to do, your mind doesn’t dwell on the duty. It goes elsewhere to contemplate more pleasant thoughts.
What’s true for Swiss Guards on sentinel duty is true for everyone. Thoughts matter. The thoughts we think, the thoughts on which we permit our minds to dwell, contribute to both the right and wrong exercise of our free will. They are the first step in the choices we make, and they can lead us in good directions or bad ones.
Long ago, the early desert fathers and mothers—the forerunners of Western monks and cloistered religious—actually worked up a system to classify human thoughts. They asserted that all the thoughts or “demons” with which a desert hermit had to contend could be broken down into eight general categories: gluttony, lust, avarice, anger, sadness, sloth, vainglory, and pride. In everyday language, that’s food, sex, possessions, anger, depression, indifference, your reputation, and your ego.
That list sounds negative, but that’s not necessarily the case. Depending on your response, the desert fathers believed those thoughts could actually lead you toward the good. All those long solitary hours in the wilderness taught them that while they couldn’t necessarily control what thoughts assailed them, they could control their reaction to them. They could choose to dwell on them, thereby moving one step closer to acting on them. Or they could choose to reject them. The way to reject them was to focus on something else, something better, something that could become the first step toward virtue or right action.
In order to perform sentinel duty, that was a habit I had to master. I had to learn to not focus on thoughts of resentment or annoyance, and instead think about better things: the tradition of which I was a part, my life and the decisions I’d made up to that point, where I was going, and what I wanted to do in the years ahead. By using sentinel duty to think about those things, it became not only bearable, but an important part of my conversion to deeper faith in Christ and his Church.
The habit of controlling my thoughts is a habit I still need to cultivate. I can’t allow my thoughts to lead me (and subsequently my company) in the wrong direction.
That’s what happens when executives start to entertain the temptations to power, greed, dishonesty, sexual immorality, callousness, and other destructive behaviors that inevitably come their way. Those thoughts become the seeds of bad actions.
All bad choices start out as thoughts: “The rules don’t apply to me.” “I’m better than others.” “Nobody will know if I cover up this mistake.” “That person is expendable.” The thoughts are almost inescapable. What’s not inescapable is entertaining those thoughts. You can choose not to dwell on them. You can choose to focus on something else: your commitments to God, your family, and your employees; your desire to be creative and innovative; the needs you can meet and the people you can serve; your own dependence on God’s grace, mercy, and love.
For every negative thought that enters your head, there is a countervailing positive thought. When you focus on those, you lay the groundwork for right action. You encourage your will to move in the direction of the good and the true. In effect, you nourish your will with what it needs to choose rightly.
You don’t, however, have to wait until a bad thought comes along to focus on a good thought. You can, in fact, create good thoughts by seeking out something good or important on which to dwell and starting a train of thought that can lead to good actions.
One of the ways John Paul II did this was to work on his will every year on his birthday.16 He would review the events of his life and the past year, contemplate what he would like to see in the year ahead, and pray about what he wanted his legacy to be. Every year, in a focused, disciplined way, he examined the whole of his life, past, present, and future. That process and the thoughts that emerged from it, helped him pursue his goals with deepened passion and vigor.
That’s something we all can do on a personal level. We can also do it on a professional level. Having more than a one or two-year business or career plan is essential. Thinking about what you want, five, ten, even twenty years down the road, is the first step in actually reaching those goals. They are thoughts that feed the will and help you to make choices that will lead you where you want to go.
Practice Makes Perfect
Earlier, I wrote that two things helped me develop the discipline and peace of mind to endure the seemingly endless hours of standing still outside the papal palace. The first was learning to control my thoughts. What was the second?
The second was the exact posture I adopted at the beginning of each round of sentinel duty. The position you adopted at the outset had everything to do with how long you could endure remaining motionless. If you adopted the right one, your joints and bones settled into a state of skeletal balance, where everything rested just as it should and your body stood almost by itself. That level of physical comfort made the task mentally easier. You weren’t sore, stiff, or in pain, so your thoughts tended to move on a higher plane. If, however, you adopted the wrong position, your body could never manage to rest rightly and doing your duty became a near impossibility. Your thoughts never strayed far from your discomfort and refocusing them was a serious challenge.
The virtuous exercise of the free will is much like sentinel duty in that respect. Your body influences your mind. Thoughts may precede actions, but actions can also precede thoughts. Kneeling to pray can make you feel more prayerful. Working in a quiet room, away from the television, can make you feel more interested in the task at hand. Writing a large check to charity can make you enjoy giving more. When you first undertake any of those actions—kneeling, working, or practicing generosity—you may not be feeling particularly prayerful, diligent, or generous. The feelings are secondary. What matters is the action. Quite often, the feelings follow the action. Merely starting an activity will bring about the required frame of mind.
Similarly, like with sentinel duty, small decisions early on (such as what posture you adopt) shape your ability to choose what’s right later down the road. In a sense, your will settles into a certain position.
In other words, the morality or immorality of your actions in the present have a lot to do with how you’ve used your free will in the past. The more you use it to choose moral actions, the stronger it grows and the easier it becomes to continually choose moral actions. The more you use it to choose immoral actions, the weaker it grows and the harder it becomes to choose moral actions.
In many ways, free will is like a muscle. It needs to be trained and strengthened in order for it to work properly. It needs to be disciplined. If not used well, it atrophies. Through the repeated right exercise of it in small things—honoring a daily commitment to prayer, keeping promises to your spouse and children, meeting deadlines at the office—it grows stronger.
It grows stronger still when you forego small comforts and pleasures in order to cultivate the habit of self-denial. Passing up dessert, getting up as soon as your alarm goes off, and not watching television on weeknights are all little acts of sacrifice that bring the will under the control of the intellect. The more you practice consciously choosing what’s good but difficult in small matters, the easier it becomes to choose the good but difficult in large matters.
***
When I first arrived at the Vatican and observed the senior guards doing things such as walking in lockstep or throwing the halberd—a long pole capped with an axe—I was in awe. They performed every movement, every motion w
ith mind-boggling precision.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw my instructor, Martino, throw the halberd. While standing at attention, he tossed it high into the air, and then caught it at an exact point marked by a nail. Next he pulled it close into his body with one arm, and guided it to his shoulder with the other. Then it smacked back down to the floor, exactly to the edge of his shoes, without hitting his toes. He did it with such ease and grace, almost without effort. Or so it seemed.
“No way will I ever be able to do that,” I remember thinking. “It’s impossible.”
But it wasn’t. After hours and hours of throwing and catching (and hitting my toes with the bottom of the halbard), I could do it with as much ease and precision as Martino. I could also march in lock step, jump to attention, and do all the other guard duties that at first seemed so very foreign. With enough hard work and practice, they became second nature to me too.
That’s also how it works with free will. Choosing the good as easily, confidently, and consistently as John Paul II did can seem all but impossible at times. The more you practice and the harder you work, the easier it becomes. With that ease comes peace, joy, and the ability to do all that God has set out for you. With it comes the ability to become the man or woman he created you to be.
Words of Wisdom on the Will
Just as Christ once came on earth in the flesh to accomplish our salvation, so He comes daily in the spirit to save each individual soul; the difference is that His first coming was visible to the eye, whereas the second is unseen. As scripture says: Christ the Lord is the breath of life to us, and the hidden nature of this spiritual coming is shown in the continuation of the same text: Under His shadow we shall live among the nations.
For this reason, even if you are too sick to go very far to meet the Lord, it is appropriate for you to respond to the great physician’s visit by making an effort at least to raise your head and lift yourself up a little to greet Him on his arrival.
—St. Bernard of Clairvaux
Questions for Reflection
Describe your own experience with authority figures—your parents, teachers, employers, etc. How has it been positive and negative? What has resulted from obeying those in authority? Has that had an impact on the way you understand God’s authority? What are three ideas from your past experience with your own, human authority figures that you affix as attributes to God?
Virtues are really nothing more than good habits, or, said in a different way: the habituation of good judgment. We acquire them through repeated right actions. Vices are virtue’s opposite, bad habits acquired through repeated wrong actions. List three virtues (or good habits) and three vices (or bad habits) you’ve developed over the years. How do those virtues and vices affect your work life? Your home life?
List five small sacrifices you can incorporate into your everyday life to retrain your will and overcome those vices listed above? What are five small actions you can take to magnify your virtues? What difference will that make at work? At home?
Epigraph. Encyclical letter on the relationship between Faith and Reason Fides et Ratio (November 2000), 13.
1. Saying goodbye to John Paul II: My last audience (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
2. Swearing-in on May 6, 1987
I swear I will faithfully, loyally and honorably serve the Supreme Pontiff John Paul II and his legitimate successors, and also dedicate myself to them with all my strength, sacrificing if necessary also my life to defend them. I assume this same commitment with regard to the Sacred College of Cardinals whenever the See is vacant.
Furthermore I promise to the Commanding Captain and my other superiors, respect, fidelity and obedience. This I swear! May God and our Holy Patrons assist me! (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
3. Our recruit school class with our sergeant (first left, back row) and the hand-to-hand combat instructor (center back row) (Courtesy of Stefan Meier)
4. In full armor (Courtesy of Stefan Meier)
5. With three of my friends in the Vatican gardens: (from the right) Roland Huwiler, Daniel Wicki, Hermann Baettig and I. (Courtesy of Stefan Meier)
6. In love in Rome: Michelle and I in front of St. Angel’s Castle (Courtesy of Andreas Widmer)
7. With my grandfather on the day of my swearing-in (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
8. John Paul II thanking my parents for my service on the day of my swearing-in (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
9. On graduation day at Merrimack College with my friends, Father Arthur Johnson, OSA, and Fr. Peter Gori, OSA (Courtesy of Michelle Widmer)
10. The Reagans arrive at the Vatican for an official visit. I am the guard standing at attention at the right. (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
11. When Harry Belafonte visited John Paul II, I asked him to sign my glove for my mom. (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
12. Holy Thursday Mass at St. Peter’s where I was one of the honor guard next to the Pope. This was the longest time I ever had to stand still. I think it was 4 hours. (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
13. The group of guards during our last meeting with John Paul II: (from the right) Patrick Gubler, Daniel Wicki, Hubert Lingg, Thomas Broger and I (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
14. Standing still . . . Sentinel duty at the entrance to the pope’s summer residence at Castel Gandolfo (Courtesy of Stefan Meier)
15. Gratitude. The pope always invited the group protecting him at his summer residence to his offices to thank them for their service. We brought along the two sisters who cooked for us during our time there. (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
16. Service in civil clothes (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
17. John Paul II greeted Poland’s communist dictator, General Wojciech Jaruzelski, with as much kindness as he greeted its first democratically elected president, Lech Walesa. (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
18. Returning in formation from the swearing-in ceremony (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
19. Aligning the formation (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
20. With my 4-year-old nephew Michael when he visited me in the Swiss Guards (Courtesy of Stefan Meier)
21. With my nephew Michael 18 years later (Courtesy of Michelle Widmer)
22. My nephew Matthias’ swearing-in 24 years after my own (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
23. Visiting John Paul II with Michelle and her parents (Courtesy of Arturo Mari)
24. Back in (temporary) service after 20 years (Courtesy of Andreas Widmer)
Chapter Five
Know Where You Are and
Where You Are Going:
Bridging the Paradox of Planning for
the Future yet Living in the Present
I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11 NIV
“Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.”
Matthew 6:34
To all men and women without exception, I wish to ask them to be convinced of the seriousness of the present moment and of each one’s individual responsibility, and to implement—by the way they live as individuals and as families, by the use of their resources, by their civic activity, by contributing to economic and political decisions and by personal commitment to national and international undertakings—the measures inspired by solidarity and love of preference for the poor.
—Blessed John Paul II
On Christmas Eve, 1986, I was one of the saddest Swiss Guards in the papal palace. Bad enough it was my first Christmas away from home, but because of the assignment I’d drawn—guarding the anteroom of the pope’s private apartments in the hours before Midnight Mass—I wouldn’t even be able to celebrate Christmas with the other guards.
All afternoon, my thoughts were with my family in Switzerland. Christmas Eve was always our favorite holiday, and in my head I could almost smell my mother’s roast cooking and see my father decorating our tree. I could hear the carols in the background and imagine the
conversations taking place between my siblings. As the youngest of six children, I’d never been away from home for any extended period of time, let alone on Christmas, and as the afternoon wore on, my depression grew. I was the “newbie” in the Guards that Christmas, having only arrived weeks before, and was trying hard to hide my struggle, to play it cool. I really wasn’t sure how long the act could hold.