A crew of us found ourselves in the middle of a small team of Olympic torchbearers prepping for their run. Mike immediately pulled out his cameras and started filming; I started talking; Geoff started snapping pictures; Pete started texting on his blackberry; and Bethany kept her eyes to the skies.

I interviewed the French Canadian manager of the team who is accompanying 12,000 such torchbearers across the country. Jean-Pierre prepped the runners, “I believe in God! Yes, I believe in God! But, I can’t see God. What you carry in your hand today is a flame that is the greatest expression of global peace in our times. The world will be watching you run. So smile, and enjoy your moment as you carry this flame!”

We ran with that team as they ran their designated portion of the downtown core of the city. Afterward, one runner placed her sacred relic in my hand, “Hey, you want to hold it?”

“Absolutely, how fun is this! Wow, what a privilege. Thank-you!” There I stood holding an Olympic torch.

Now, I’m back in Canmore (a long way from Newfoundland). Who knows, I may see the torch again soon as it passes this way through the Rocky Mountains. The journey is sometimes like snapshots, at other times, bookends.

As I write these thoughts, a Swiss-German friend is carrying his laptop around our living room and kitchen touring his Swiss friends through our home, chattering in a language other than English via wifi; a real-time cross-continental home movie. I’m sitting here waving at two guys who are eight time zones away, and there is no delay in our correspondence. They might as well be sitting right here. Well, I suppose they are…

This high tech media exchange has me thinking: You can point toward something. But, it’s different when you’re in the middle of it. The extent of your preparation and accuracy of your aim will be revealed in real time before real people.

Like the radio interview I did in Halifax last week. It was ten minutes into the dialogue with Jeff at CJLU when I realized everything I was saying was being transmitted over the airwaves into three Canadian provinces, and I couldn’t take any of my words back. I had to speak clearly, directly and simply. My words shared in studio should be the same as the words shared in my living room at home; born out of familiar dialogue.

As our words reach more people, we have the potential of becoming more influential. But what about more accountable and responsible? There’s obviously grace for the spoken mistakes… What I’m getting at is there are dangers in the heart of marketing spirituality. Some love to loathe platforms, artistically avoiding having accidentally arrested the people’s attention. We tend to appreciate the opportunity to influence others, but then aren’t sure what to do next. With a captive audience, we can be tempted to pontificate generalities. We can act as though our being “influential” is a total misnomer, a quirky coincidence, while skillfully maintaining a measurable level of control, waxing propaganda to our advantage… confessing ad nausea we’re doing nothing of the sort. Maintaining ambiguity, we can leverage mystery at the expense of the pastoral, the practical. We don’t have to take responsibility for them all, do we? We’re not accountable for them all, are we?

We can speak toward them for a season, but sooner or later, we have to walk it out with them.

Back to my radio interview: Not being very clear, I said that the expression of prière à Taizé, France is a Catholic expression of prayer, which isn’t straightforward enough (this archived Time magazine article gives more concise background). I made a simple mistake over the airwaves. I also said that Victor Hugo was inspired by Clairvaux Prison when he wrote Les Misérables (this reference to Claude Gueux is what I was getting at, but I couldn’t pull out the history, dates, and names on the fly).

If I went back over the interview again and again, I’m sure I’d find more inconsistencies to correct and change for next time. I must keep adjusting my words, analyzing what I’ve said and am saying. Why have I said what I’ve said? Why do I say what I say? Will I say it differently in the future? Where is it all going? What is it all accomplishing? And then, what am I doing? Do my words match my deeds? Does the blueprint make any sense? Does my leadership empower or entomb people? Does the ideology I’m spewing harden into idolatry?

I’m not sure about the future. But, I do share a number of serendipitous events in Clairvaux Manifesto; like the Dietrich Bonhoeffer & Stephen Harper on a plane moment, which I mentioned during the radio interview. But, if I just live off those kinds of past moments, pulling them out like old school parlor tricks to wow listeners, I’m not really living in the mystery of God in the sacrament of this present moment.

I have documented some of my past journey and future hopes in my first book. As soon as Lea began editing the manuscript, the sequel was already being written on my heart. I must fan into flame this gift of God, which is in me through the laying on of certain hands. None of us has received anything we have, independently. The fragmented individual has the potential of becoming a complete person in intentional community. How many more individual leaders have to go down in a blaze of bad sound checks and cheesy lighting before we realize we’re all simply people; naive amateurs longing to experience who is above, here below.

A generous Frank is translating portions of Clairvaux Manifesto into French; thanks Berenice! God alone knows if these Frankish bones can live, yet again. May these ancient wells flow freely, yet again!

Babel is the rubble under Jesus’ feet…

Soli Deo Gloria

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