Originally published
as a
COLUMN FOR MARKET-PLACE
DECEMBER 2004
Since 1980 business has taken over the language of mission. Mission statements take pride of place on walls and prospectuses.
Since the early 1990s the once-called public service, including education and
health sectors, has utilized the same process language. Since the late 1990s
the community of faith has awoken to a bright idea, noticed that “relevance” is
heralded by mission statements and vision statements the world over, and
vomited them out willy-nilly. Change a
word here and a commodity there and the various statements could have been
mass-produced in a Beijing
“Process language” is a formal term given to language produced not
by passion, but by, yes, process. This is not the language of the making of
love or the making of hatred, but the language of manufacturing a carefully
contrived outcome designed to please all comers.
The language of passion cries out “let’s make love.” The language of
process multiloquates: “recognizing the existential state of human aloneness in
which you and I coexist, and recognizing also the universal human longing for
procreative and, as a possible by-product of the procreative, recreative
encounter, we will, subject to mutual acceptability,
facilitate a personal encounter that addresses this existential bifurcation and
thereby provides conjoined enrichment and satisfaction. We will maintain this
co-operative encounter for as long as it is reciprocally edifying.”
Sure, it’s possible to reduce the number of syllables, but the
pseudo-legalese cover-all-bases of mission statements bends over backwards,
sideways and diagonal-ways to ensure that every possible dimension of every
contributor’s perspective is affirmed and included in the final printed
outcome. The desire to make love requires a very
limited number of – (let’s avoid the trendy in-speak “players” and opt for a
good old-fashioned noun) – participants. Provision of a commodity or a service
will involve a greater number of participants – (let’s avoid, too, the ghastly
“stakeholders”) – and the number of bases covered and egos satisfied suddenly
seems to necessitate a broader, wider, more widely acceptable catena of non- or
not-too-specific words, clauses, phrases, sub-clauses. Like a poem written by a
committee, it eschews the personal and achieves the general:
this parish/school/retail outlet/factory/agency is committed
to produce the highest standard of worship/education/service/product/assistance.
Using a wide range of traditions/educational methods/suppliers/materials/networks
we will offer relevant/up to date/fiscally responsible/strong/wide-ranging
encounters with the Divine/whole-of-life formation/weaponry/prophylactic
products/community service
to as wide as possible a sector of the
community in which we serve.
To establish such a statement it is desirable to incorporate the
views and opinions of as many as participate in the planning. Staff, volunteers,
all, are asked to submit phrases and to attain broad consensus. In that process
of ultra-egalitarianism passion is lost. As mid afternoon migraines set in and
we are still bogged down on whether our liturgy/weaponry/burgery is supposed to
be relevant/uplifting/life-enhancing or world shattering a vocation to climb a
pillar in the middle of a desert attracts.
In my case a certain nasty and subversive imagination begins to gnaw
at my consciousness. I begin to pen an alternative mission: “Plastic burgers
Inc. is sort of committed, perhaps, to producing sheer tasteless fat. Knowing
that our customers live in a world of mediocrity we will endeavour to out-blasé
the most tasteless of all plastic soggies.” Or an ecclesiastical equivalent: “this parish
will strive in a non-interested way to achieve mediocrity in all facets of its
existence.”
When Jesus said “come, follow me”, I wasn’t turned on by his
cautious egalitarianism or the inclusiveness of his vision. I wasn’t impressed
by the manner in which he and his disciples – (who had previously tendered
expressions of interest in facilitating his mission and presented a memorandum
of understanding of their co-facilitationary role) – provided a well rounded
strategy inclusive of all possible eventualities and impacts of their mission.
I was attracted by the urgency of his challenge and the passion of his
commitment (and that of his followers).
Ultimately we will generate more God-interest by imitating the
heroic desert fathers – many of whom did opt out of meaninglessness to face the
tumultuous challenge of pillar-sitting – or the impulsive disciples than by
producing vacuous, if well intended and much-owned, mission statements. We have
a mission statement – albeit one imposed on us: “go: make disciples.” I’ve yet
to see an improvement on that.
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