A Volley from the Canon, Number 97 Best Church

A Volley from the Canon, Number 97

“Best #*&^ Church in the Diocese”

Archdeacon Perrizo and I recently attended our professional organization meeting, the Conference of Diocesan Executives (CODE), for staff who report directly to a diocesan bishop. We count on this event for great networking opportunities, meaningful worship, and inspiring sessions on various aspects of our work. This year was no exception.

We had two keynote speakers, both of whom you’ll see me quoting in the weeks to come: first, the Presiding Bishop preached and later spoke after dinner on “Leadership for a Changing World,” the theme of the conference. We had also been asked to read a book, It’s Your Ship, by retired Navy Commander Mike Abrashoff. He spoke the following morning on his experiences with leadership, assuming command of a Navy vessel surrounding the Gulf Wars period.

When Abrashoff took command of his ship, he was distressed to see his crew cheer the departure of his predecessor, an unprecedented lapse in morale and respect. The ship was near the bottom of just about every measure the Navy applied to it (and his getting assigned to it was not a sign of his being the military’s brightest and best hope!), but it particularly tanked in crew morale and re-enlistment. Mike was certain of little, but one sure thing was, he did not want to be dissed when his two years’ tenure was up as the previous commander had been. He also learned very quickly that his job was not to be liked: it was to lead his mixed gender crew well, keep them safe, and help them to serve as effectively as possible. He needed to be respected, maybe even admired, but he certainly did not need to be feared!

He truly wanted to know what was going on with the crew, and so he defied Navy tradition by “interviewing” all of his crew individually, to learn about them, their hopes, their needs, their concerns. He invited each one to his state-room, a place few had ever seen. He prowled the ship, not looking for errors to reprimand people for, but for good work to praise. Gradually, the crew stopped looking at their shoes when he passed, and began to look him in the eye. They began to talk to him, too, and had a number of very effective suggestions on how to operate the ship and its equipment more efficiently. He sent his galley staff to chef school in San Francisco. He began to focus on getting the training his crew needed to advance and meet their personal goals. In short order, they began to excel in all the Navy’s evaluations.

One thing Abrashoff taught his crew was to greet visitors by saying, “Welcome aboard the best damn ship in the Navy.” Guests got a kick out of it, and there were more and more of them as dining improved. At first, it was a ludicrous statement, but gradually, it came to have real meaning to the crew. They came to believe it, and they came to live into it.

First, I commend Abrashoff’s book to you for an interesting and quick read. There is far more kinship between the U. S. Navy and the Episcopal Church than we might want to think! Second, I am struck by this demonstration of the power of positive messages and the widespread effects of improved morale in an organization. As a body, we Episcopalians have been much beset-upon (in large measure, by ourselves) in recent years; we could do with a bit of encouragement. Third, I note the importance of those in positions of leadership getting to know their “crew.” The leader is one person, and as such can do only so much. The crew (Abrashoff had 300+) can accomplish astronomically more than that—if they are freed and equipped to do so!

I’m not so sure the church can benefit from greeting visitors with “Welcome to the best damn church in the diocese!” That is not something we ought to say out loud at the church door. But on the inside, I long for the day when we might mean it.

We already have the gourmet dining.