More on Criticism

More thoughts on criticism have struck me since I blogged about sermon feedback. I think I have mentioned before that I love feedback, positive or negative, but I have, over the years, come to the conclusion that I am odd in this respect. I still don't quite know why everyone doesn't embrace the idea of learning by being given information about how they were received, but that's down to personality type I guess.

It does mean that I tend to offer feedback to others pretty gently and so sometimes it is not heard as a criticism when it should be. End result; no change in behaviour. Nevertheless it is still the case that even the most gentle of criticism can be misheard. The other day I made this suggestion to someone:

I think we would do well to avoid the emotive and confrontational language of 'protect our interests' and exchange it for the welcoming and co-operative language of 'how can we best work together.'

Which got the response:

'A little patronising, Steve, but not intended, I'm sure.'

I've had trouble like this before. A colleague at a previous organisation told me she thought I was wrong, very clearly. Quite polarising that so I responded the only way I could with a counter assertion that on this occasion I felt she was mistaken. She stormed out. Later, when it transpired that I had been right (I rarely assert, ‘I am right’ unless I am pretty damn sure) and she was wrong, the criticism, 'It was the way you said it,' was thrown at me. I'm not sure how to say, 'You were wrong,' nicely. Surely it was the fact that I said it and it was right that was galling?

One of my heroes, Julian Richer, the founder of Richer Sounds, wrote an influential little book (for me) called The Richer Way. In it he made the point that 10% of people with a complaint bother to write, but 100% of people with a complaint tell a friend. 1% of people receiving good service bother to write and 10% of such people tell a friend. The statistics are too general to be hard facts but they ring true. Richer's response was to handle all written customer complaints personally and I believe he still does so. He wanted to know how his business was doing.

Note that one complaint will undo the work of at least 10 good pieces of service. Yet another reason for eliminating the bad from your organistaion before you strive to be excellent.

Richer set up a wonderful system for getting feedback on his staff at the point of sale. The name of the assistant goes on the receipt so he can feedback to his staff when there is a complaint or praise. The employee of the month (as objectively judged by customers) gets to have use of the company limo for a weekend with a driver.

So whilst it may bring back all your experiences of having a critical parent who never praised you, do try hard to grin and receive negative feedback without becoming all defensive. They probably represent nine other people who didn't bother to say. If you tell the other person their critique is wrong how likely are they to ever tell you again?

And if you get good feedback? Well 99 other people probably agree. How encouraging is that?

Feedback to preachers

I was a bit disappointed on Sunday evening that I had not really done justice to the material on which I had to preach. It was one of those occasions where an outside series we are following had quite a lot of points to make which were not from the main passage of the day. I was forcing it a bit to make connections and I felt it showed.

I was therefore delighted to get this e-mail next day:

Hi Steve

Just wanted to say that that was an excellent sermon last night.

I'd say the most effective moment was the really lovely smile you gave as you started, drawing in the whole congregation. The best line was ' And Canon MacLean was following him.' Beautiful timing, beautiful deadpan delivery.

The best point, for me, was the equation of witness with 'telling your own story'. As someone who took a long time to work out that 'giving God a good press' only works if it's heartfelt, I really appreciated that. I'm not aware that telling my story has brought anyone in particular to Christ, but it's certainly brought some wandering sheep back into the fold: a different sort of outreach, but the one I seem to have ended up with.

Good structure, too - the summing up at the end matched the outline given at the beginning, and the bit in between actually revolved round the same points!

So thanks. I did appreciate it.

Now I don't tell you this just to massage my already over-polished ego but to make two points:

1. It is amazing how often times when I get great feedback matches the occasions when I feel I have let people down a bit. It meant a lot that someone had taken the time to think about what I had said and how it worked and then actaully send the e-mail.

2. Do give your preachers feedback. The e-mail didn't just say 'Nice sermon vicar' but told me some specific things I had done well. I can build on those and try and make the most of those techniques again.

So thanks my friend. I appreciate it. And if you have negative things to say I will take them much more easily if I know you will also tell me positive things.

This is not a conversation?

A novitiate monk, having taken a vow of silence, was told that he could talk but once a year, to the abbot. At the end of twelve months he entered the abbot's study and was invited to speak. 'Well,' he said 'I've had an excellent twelve months and I find the contemplative life very agreeable but I wonder if there is something you could do about the porridge at breakfast. It is terribly lumpy.' The abbot promised to attend to it.

After a second year the same opportunity arose. This time the novice suggested that the porridge had been over-thinned and was now too sloppy. Again the abbot promised action.

By year three the porridge was too sweet and by year four too salty.

The novice was looking forward to taking full and lifelong orders but was shocked to discover the abbot was not recommending this. At his five year interview he was dismissed because he was constantly complaining.

To Keynsham today then for a 'Conversation morning' with my Bishops. Makes me sound jolly privileged but I have to tell you there were 80 of us there. All privileged then. Gosh I can creep.

Bishops Peter Price and Peter Maurice (Bishops Peter? The Bishops Peter? Peters the Bishop? Peter our Bishops? Help) are giving four mornings aside to discussing with diocesan clergy the progress of the Changing Lives project into which I appear to have parachuted.

I think the collective noun for a group of clergy should be something along the lines of a prattle, or a cynicism. One recently ordained woman came up to me afterwards and asked if I had any advice as to how she might avoid turning out like the rest of them. I think there may have been a compliment, or perhaps even a chat-up line, hiding in there somewhere.

So we had an introduction setting out some starting points in terms of values and then a time in groups, as a result of which the things our group wanted to say, and the things we wanted to say as individuals (we had been warned to prepare for this) were annotated onto Post-it notes and placed on tables.

The promise was that the notes would be read, grouped and responded to; some immediately, others over a period of time. I went and read them during the coffee break. Given the opportunity to express thoughts of great grandeur and clarity to two bishops who had promised to listen, someone had used their Post-it note to write, 'This is not a conversation...'

I avoided the temptation to write, 'Why do you say that?' on a note underneath.

I acknowledge an occasional outbreak of cynicism and prattling but please, brother and sister clergy, if the Bishop phones don't spend the whole conversation telling him he never calls.

The porridge may be lumpy, salty, sloppy or sweet but is it just possible there are more important things to say when the occasional opportunity arises?