In his beloved Christmas carol, “What Child is This?,” William Chatterton Dix claimed that in the stable in Bethlehem “the silent word is speaking.” Near the end of Jesus’ earthly life, he stood in silence before Pilate. Asked “What is truth,” he didn’t give the expected answer. He refused to act as a philosopher defending a rationalist framework. Some questions are too small to be answered. So Jesus stood in silence.

From the beginning of his life to the end, the word is framed in stillness. T.S. Eliot wrote in The Four Quartets,

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is…
Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

Everyone wants to know, “What is leadership?” I worry that the question is too small. I wonder if the word is even redeemable. Through the Industrial Age “leadership” gained specific connotations, mostly of activity, power and control. It suggested a separation of people into classes -- those who do and those who are done unto. “Leadership” comes with baggage that prevents us from perceiving something fundamental about shared life and purpose and our common identity as God’s people. I sympathize with those who want to discard the word forever.

But I wonder if we can redeem the language? I wonder if through our actions and reflection we can subvert back a language previously subverted?

“Surfing the Edge of Chaos: The Laws of Nature and the New Laws of Business” is a fascinating exploration of complex adaptive systems that focuses on transition and adaptive challenge. In one of the book’s final, riveting stories the authors related the challenges faced by Hewlett-Packard Laboratories as it moved from average to outstanding performance. As an important manager gathering approached, planners considered a request for an “inspiring speaker.” Barbara Waugh of Hewlett-Packard recounted what happened next:

What if, instead of an inspired speaker, we had a great listener who could ‘hear them into speech’ about their vision for HP’s future driven by the integration of HPL’s technologies? ... We go forward and use the idea at the big event. Senior management sees connections they have never seen before.

Could this story be a clue to one of the most neglected frameworks for adaptive leadership? Could it be that at the core of leadership is an essential movement that has often been forgotten in modernity? Could it be that leadership is a profoundly spiritual art, the core of which is not action but listening and reflection?

William Dix’s beautiful poetry caught the movement of Jesus’ life from silence to silence. The kenotic movement of the Word taught in Philippians 2 frames the downward call of all Christian leaders. He emptied himself and became nothing. Rather than seeking safety and control, he made himself vulnerable.

The stable’s silence is Jesus’ first movement, engaging the world as listener. The final movement is Jesus before Pilate. In between are 25 years as a carpenter, a story notable for being untold. It seems the Word is Himself bounded by silence, and so T.S. Eliot asks in his poem, “Ash Wednesday,”

Where shall the Word
Resound, where shall the Word
be found? Not here --
There is not enough silence.

Everyone wants to know, “what is leadership?” Perhaps the best answer we can give is to become great listeners.

Len Hjalmarson is a teacher, writer, and software developer living among the orchards and vineyards of Kelowna, B.C. He blogs at http://www.nextreformation.com