***
For the first several days I served as a Swiss Guard, I remained within the confines of Vatican City. There, for as foreign as much of it was to me, was also a great deal of the familiar. The shopkeepers and postmasters worked hard to build friendships with the guards. I felt welcome. The Swiss Guard’s barracks were almost like a mini-Switzerland, with geraniums in the courtyard and Swiss beer always on tap. To a young man like myself, one who had rarely before ventured outside of his small village, Vatican City felt not all that different. It was manageable, safe, almost familiar.
The city of Rome proper was an altogether different matter. Its fast-paced life crashed like violent waves on the Vatican’s peaceful shores. On my first day out in the city, I almost drowned in those waves.
That day, as I prepared to explore the city, I was stopped in my tracks by the traffic at the border between Vatican City and Rome, the street right in front of the Swiss Guard barracks. I waited and waited for the pedestrian light, but even once it turned green, the traffic did not stop. Every time I put a foot onto the street, cars simply honked and swerved, but made no attempt to slow down. I continued trying for a few minutes, once even putting both feet onto the street, only to jump back onto the sidewalk to save my life. I was dumfounded. “What is this? This chaos is too much for me,” I thought.
I was about to return to the safety of the barracks, when I heard a voice cry out, “Helvetice, why do you stand here so perplexed?”
The cry came from a relatively short man with a round red face, oversized glasses, and a shaven head. He was dressed in blue coveralls, reminiscent of auto mechanic garb. It was the pope’s Latin teacher, Father Reggie Foster (which explained why he addressed me by the Latin word for Switzerland).
“Take courage!” the little priest shouted in a high-pitched voice. “Be one with this perfect chaos. Make it yours and it will obey you.”
As he spoke, he began to slowly walk backwards into the busy intersection, his gaze locked with mine. He never flinched. There was a concert of honking, cars swerved around him screeching, and drivers swore at him from their open windows. But not one car so much as touched the man who stood in the middle of the intersection, wildly gesticulating with both arms, to underscore his message to me.
Father Reggie is almost worth a book in himself. He was a stubborn little man who insisted on wearing blue coveralls (purchased annually from the JCPenney in Milwaukee, Wisconsin) instead of clerics, and battled John Paul endlessly over whether the correct spelling of the pope’s Latin name began with a “J” or an “I.” (The pope won while he was alive, but it’s Ioannes, not Joannes on his tombstone). Battles with the successor to St. Peter aside, Father Reggie’s foray into the streets of Rome exemplifies what it means to bridge the paradox between a vision for the future and attentiveness to the present moment. He knew where he wanted to go—across the street—and he knew where that particular street happened to be—Rome. That meant he couldn’t cross it like he would a street in Lucerne or Milwaukee. The circumstances of where he was required a calm, confident foray into chaos, which happens to be the only way to cross a busy intersection in the Eternal City. Father Reggie stayed focused on where he was going and where he was, so seemingly against all odds, he made it across the street.
Eventually, I did too.
Action Item: A Mission for Your Life
John Paul II had a mission for his life. What’s your mission? Spend thirty minutes writing your own personal mission statement. Be specific. Cover all the pertinent areas of your life and roles you play. Next, write down your short and long-term goals for each: family, work, friends, your social environment, and your personal development. Finally, come up with an action plan, writing out the actions in both the present moment and the years ahead that will help you turn the goal and vision into a reality.
Review this mission statement and action plan at least once a year, revising as appropriate.
Questions for Reflection
Describe the vision or mission of your company. How does it compare to the criteria for a successful vision outlined in this chapter? Is it human-centered? Inspiring? Challenging? Is it lived out? Do you live according to the vision of your own company? If not, what about it needs to change? List five changes that you can implement in your own behavior to reflect your company’s vision in what you do every day and how you do it.
Describe a time where you or your manager pursued only short-term financial profit and not the true vision of the company. What were the consequences of that, both in the short-term and long-term?
How honest is your team when it comes to telling you the truth about any given situation? Do you encourage honesty and forthrightness? How can you be more honest? How can you invite more honesty from others? List five concrete actions.
What do you need to change yourself so that you’re more attentive to the moment? Name at least three concrete things you can do daily.
Epigraph. Encyclical Letter for the twentieth anniversary of “Populorum Progressio” Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (December 20, 1987), 47.
Chapter Six
Know Your Team:
The Value of Cultivating
and Synchronizing Talent
“To one he gave five talents; to another, two; to a third, one—to each according to his ability. Then he went away.”
Matthew 25:15
[T]he person who works desires not only due remuneration for his work; he also wishes that within the production process, provision be made for him to be able to know that in his work, even on something that is owned in common, he is working “for himself.” This awareness is extinguished within him in a system of excessive bureaucratic centralization, which makes the worker feel that he is just a cog in a huge machine moved from above, that he is for more reasons than one a mere production instrument rather than a true subject of work with an initiative of his own.
—Blessed John Paul II
On the morning of May 6, 1987, I awakened in the barracks at 5:30 a.m. to the sound of drumming. After a quick breakfast, I put on my gala uniform and headed to the courtyard for morning call. Gathered there were the thirty-three of us who had entered during the previous twelve months, plus about twenty of the older guards. Because we kept watch at the papal palace round the clock, this was the largest possible assembly of the guards, not just for the day, but also for the year.
After entering formation and answering roll call, we marched to the Aula Della Benedizione (Benediction Hall). That’s the hall directly behind St. Peter’s Square, the one whose central window opens up to the famous balcony where the new pope appears immediately following his election.
We entered the hall in lockstep, led by our commanding officers, the Swiss Guard flag, and four drummers. It was an imposing sight, and as we marched in full formation to our seats, I caught a glimpse of my grandfather, standing to the side, saluting me with tears in his eyes.
Besides my grandfather, my parents and other relatives were also present in the hall, as were the families and pastors of most of the new guards. They had traveled down from Switzerland for this annual celebration that both commemorated the swearing in of the new guards and paid tribute to our fallen comrades.
After we took our seats, the pope entered, blessing the families and the new guards as he moved toward the altar. There, along with many of our parish priests, he offered Mass. Once Mass was over, he changed out of his vestments and prayed quietly for a few minutes. Then he invited the new recruits to introduce him to our parents. In the Swiss Guards the order of sequence usually goes by height and not by name, so I (at 6’9”) was one of the first called up.
In the days leading up to the audience, I’d given a great deal of thought to what I would say and how I could introduce my parents. But as we approached, all the carefully rehearsed words failed me. I was emotional and couldn’t speak. Fortunately, the Holy Father took the initiative and spoke for me.
“Ah, Andreas, my tallest guard!” he said, reaching
out his hands, one to my mother and one to my father as I stood between them.
“You can be proud of your son,” he continued.
My father managed to say something about how happy he was to have his son serving the successor of St. Peter, and John Paul nodded with understanding. He then turned to my mother, took both her hands, looked into her tear-filled eyes, and said, “Thank you for giving me my tallest guard.” He then put his hand on her forehead and blessed her.
As we stood there, I realized that each of my parents had grabbed my hand. It was the first time that I felt they were holding onto me instead of me holding onto them.
That day, something changed between my parents and me. When they looked at me, they no longer saw a child, but a man who was part of John Paul II’s world. Something changed in me as well. I understood for the first time that I was part of something much bigger than myself or even the Swiss Guards. I saw myself as John Paul II’s co-worker, as a collaborator in his vision for man, the Church, and the world. I knew my role was a small one, but that day I realized just how important even small roles in great missions can be. When I left that audience hall, it was with renewed enthusiasm for my work and a deepened appreciation for the opportunity I’d been given.
That was no coincidence.
During the twenty-seven years of his pontificate, John Paul II was one of the most famous and recognizable men on the planet. His life inspired hundreds of millions of people, and his words shaped the history of the latter half of the twentieth century. The Holy Spirit had a lot to do with that. So did the team of people who worked alongside the pope, planning his trips, delivering his messages, and making the engines of the Vatican machinery run smoothly.
It took more than one man to further John Paul’s vision, and John Paul II knew that. He understood that great leaders need great teams. He also understood that great leaders make great teams, that it is the leader’s responsibility to cultivate the virtues and habits necessary for success in those working with him and to help them understand the importance of what they do. Accordingly, he took great care in assembling, leading, and motivating his team.
At that, he excelled.
Assembling a Team
At the outset of his pontificate, like any other CEO, John Paul II needed to assemble an executive team. He needed to select the men who would be responsible, at the highest levels, for helping him implement his vision. He could have done this immediately, making sweeping changes as soon as he was elected. But he didn’t. He made some key appointments early, but for the most part, he waited until he felt the right time and right person had come along. He observed the nature of the Vatican, the nature of those around him, and only slowly, after careful deliberation, made changes to the staff and structure he inherited from John Paul I and Paul VI.
Whenever a position opened, he filled it with someone who shared his vision; someone who also was capable, secure, and independent. He gave people freedom to realize his vision in their own way.
The pope didn’t assemble his leadership team out of men who were virtual clones of himself. Rather, he brought together individuals with starkly different personalities and backgrounds. There was the shrewd and political Cardinal Augustino Casaroli, who as Secretary of State finessed both diplomats and dictators with great skill. Then there was the shy and reflective Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, whose methodical mind brought clarity to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the office responsible for the teaching of Catholic doctrine. Smiling Cardinal Francis Arinze of Nigeria, appointed as prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship, had a gentle and friendly demeanor that made him a naturally disarming defender of the Catholic Liturgy.
There were others, each different, but all sharing John Paul’s vision and uniquely suited to the tasks required of them. That was what mattered to the pope—that they could do their job and do it well. Nationality, which had mattered a great deal to previous popes, mattered little. Where Italians had previously dominated the Vatican hierarchy, holding ten or more of the top positions, under John Paul II they claimed but four. Power and influence also mattered little to John Paul, who changed the makeup of the College of Cardinals to more closely reflect the make-up of the world’s Catholic population. By the time of his death, 40 percent of voting cardinals came from developing countries. When he first took office, the percentage was less than ten.
During the years I served in the Vatican, I saw several men I’d gotten to know personally elevated to positions of power. Unfailingly, those men were among the priests and bishops who had impressed me the most. I can’t ever remember thinking, “What? Him? What’s the pope thinking?” The selections were always wise, the result of John Paul II’s careful attention to individuals, keen sense of personality, and careful reflection on the choice before him.
Later, once those team members were in place, John Paul built on their strengths. None of his top cardinals were perfect. The pope knew that as well as anyone else. But he chose to help them focus on and develop their strengths, rather than lament their weaknesses. In certain situations, he would send personal envoys who had an ability that made them uniquely suited for a specific task—handling a difficult negotiation or intervening in a sensitive situation—but then turn the long-term work on the issue over to others. For example, rather than send one of the Vatican’s top diplomats (who are all priests, bishops, or cardinals) to represent the Church at the Beijing Conference on Women, he instead asked the most qualified person—American laywoman, law professor, and international human rights scholar Mary Ann Glendon.
Priests and bishops can get as territorial as anyone else when it comes to departments and jobs. It’s not that there were never turf wars under John Paul II’s watch or that no eyebrows were ever raised when he made a staffing change. But the pope tried to minimize squabbles as much as possible, and when it mattered most, he didn’t allow those types of concerns to prevent him from matching the right person with the right task. In his eyes, what was at stake was too important to submit to Vatican politics.
The Mark of a True Leader
In that, John Paul understood what so many CEOs don’t. One of the marks of great leadership is the ability to match the right person with the right task. You must be a synchronizer of talent, understanding what’s really required for each and every job and knowing what skills are necessary to accomplish specific tasks.
This is not to say that the task is more important than the person who achieves it. Quite the contrary. But many executives mistakenly try to force a person to conform to a position like a small child tries to force a square block into a circular hole. Doing so is counterproductive, both with respect to achieving the goal and to the person in question.
My most painful mistakes in business resulted from me doing exactly that. I failed to think of my employees and goals honestly and give due consideration to who would be best at what task or who could develop in a certain direction. I didn’t do my homework or take the time to really talk with them about their careers, training, goals, and need for guidance and improvement.
Unlike John Paul II, I wasn’t attentive enough to the true nature of my employees, and even when I did have a suspicion that a certain person wasn’t the best choice for a certain task, I did my best to avoid admitting that. I was more focused on the short-term needs of the company, not on what would be best for both the company and the individual in the long-term.
The way to avoid these mistakes is simply to take more time with personnel decisions. As a manager, you must meet with all your direct employees regularly, engaging them in conversation about their goals, talents, and past experiences. You also have to give serious thought to what they need to grow professionally and, importantly, be honest with them when something isn’t working out.
I know a great many executives who shrink from these kinds of conversations. But they don’t have to be unpleasant. They can actually be both enjoyable and constructive. But that depends on you and your ability to lead and enc
ourage your team with the attitude of a coach.
Leading as a Coach
When it comes to leadership, there are critics and there are coaches. The critic’s primary objective is not the person but the project. In the critic’s eyes, the person is a means to an end. The coach, on the other hand, is someone who keeps the whole person in mind, with a special focus on the employee’s potential and the progress they’re making toward achieving that potential. A coach’s feedback may be tough, but it’s also hopeful and expectant. He cares about the goal, but he knows that the person always matters more.
The Pope & the CEO Page 10
