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Mary Morrell, Things my Father Taught Me
While I was at the Catholic Media Conference and Awards Banquet last month, spending meaningful time with old friends and new acquaintances in the field, I was reminded of a profound and simple truth – we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us. I was also reminded that this truth seems increasingly easy to forget.
Over my lengthy career and my longer life-time, I’ve watched it happen in many places. A new boss arrives. A new editor takes over. A new school principal takes the helm. A new pastor becomes shepherd of a parish. Sometimes the first order of business seems to be pointing out what was wrong before they arrived. The previous administration, leadership team or leader either becomes the convenient explanation for every problem, or is, over time, erased from memory.
Certainly, every organization needs fresh ideas, and every leader should bring a new vision. Improvements are healthy, and, the truth is, change is often necessary. But there is a difference between improving something and pretending nothing worthwhile existed before you.
Someone built the organization. Someone sacrificed evenings and weekends to move an initiative forward. Someone weathered difficult years. Someone made decisions with the information available at the time. Someone laid the foundation that made today’s opportunities possible.
Good leaders understand that, and they honor that.
For Christians, this principle reaches back to the very beginning of the Church. Jesus did not entrust his mission to perfect people. He chose ordinary men who often misunderstood him, argued among themselves, doubted, fled in fear, and, in Peter’s case, even denied knowing him. Yet these same imperfect Apostles became the foundation upon which Christ built his Church.
God did not erase their weaknesses, but neither did he dismiss their faithfulness. He transformed imperfect servants into faithful witnesses. If Christ could build his Church through flawed people, perhaps we should be slower to dismiss those who came before us simply because they were imperfect.
Every generation of believers inherits a faith that was preserved, taught, defended and lived by people who were far from flawless. We honor them not because they never failed, but because they remained part of God’s unfolding work.
Humility has a way of changing the tone of leadership. Instead of saying, “Now we’ll finally do it right,” humble leaders are more likely to say, “I’m grateful for those who brought us this far. Here’s how we can build on their work.”
That approach invites cooperation rather than division.
It also reminds us of an important truth: Someday, someone else will inherit our responsibilities. They will evaluate our decisions with the benefit of hindsight. They will see mistakes we couldn’t see. I hope they will extend to us the same grace and appreciation we should offer to those who came before. Leadership is not about erasing another person’s legacy. It is about adding faithfully to it.
None of us starts at the beginning. Every achievement rests upon unseen labor, forgotten sacrifices and faithful people whose names may never appear in headlines or on award certificates.
The best leaders never forget to say thank you to those who prepared the way.
Mary Morrell is editor-in-chief of The Catholic Spirit, the Metuchen Diocesan newspaper.