A Tribute to an Executive

I do not know Mr. Rob Katz. A Wharton Business School graduate and former Wall Street player, the 42-year old now serves as the chief executive officer for Vail Resorts. While congressional politics were finding ways to bail out major financial and business institutions in late 2008, Mr. Katz was exercising bold creativity himself. He announced that his own 2009 salary would be cut to zero, and in successive years reduced from its previous rate by 15 percent. The company's executives and top directors would see a 20 percent pay cut, office workers a 10 percent pay cut, and all other workers a 2.5 percent pay cut.

When asked in an interview about these moves, Katz said "We have chosen to address this situation by making the preservation of jobs and protecting the guest experience our highest priorities. By asking everyone to take less, starting at the top, we can continue to focus on our mission of extraordinary resorts, exceptional experiences."

Preserving jobs and protecting the product for customers. What a novel idea. Starting at the top. What a virtuous ideal.

Would that other corporations, businesses, and schools would follow suit.

Musings on the Liberal Arts: Rest in Peace?

I've been grieving lately, and only now realize the process. For a good while there has been a trend in higher education away from the pursuit of wisdom and toward the fast-track to jobs. No one would doubt the importance of college for success in careers, and certainly those with vested interests -- taxpayers, donors, and parents, as a start -- deserve to see "results." But the myopic fascination with speed and precision, technical perfection and immediate relevance, costs and benefits, distorts the central importance of the life of learning itself. Despite the common knowledge that a broad-based education in the arts and sciences best prepares one for the world of work and living, today's colleges and universities are racing toward a glorious goal of streamlined trade schools. There is no room, we are told, for the luxuries of "irrelevant" courses in history, philosophy, astronomy, or art. These courses merely slow down the productive process, and their professors simply cost us too much.

C. S. Lewis once discussed, in an essay on "Learning in Times of War," the importance of the pursuit of knowledge and beauty for their own sake and for God's sake. Speaking to students at Oxford just after the start of World War II, he urged them to focus on their current vocation, their present "calling," and to diligently oppose the enemies of learning -- excitement, frustration, and fear. Too often, he says, students and faculty alike are drawn away from study by the distractions of urgent events, job preparations, insecurities, and the allure of the novel. How much more so today with immediate diversions at every finger. And how very strange, and sad, that those whose central mission is to advance learning and wisdom are among the most prolific models of their own failures.

Finally, Time to Garden

Okay, I'm going to risk it: no more freezes, so time to plant the tomatoes. Every year I move too early, but certainly we are done by now....certainly!

What would Spring be without the ritual of garden preparations? Turning the dirt with a simple shovel, digging hands into the clumps and breaking them up, separating nasty grass roots from precious composting worms, raking the ground smooth, marking the rows, and placing the tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and broccoli? Never mind that there is not enough space. Never mind that there is not enough time. Never mind that the planting won't be finished for weeks.

Ah, but anticipate that first juice tomato, those shiny eggplants, more peppers than any salsa needs.

I can't wait.

A Note to My Facebook Friends and Others

For a while lately I have been wondering whether Facebook is an appropriate venue for social networking, as it claims. What does “social networking” mean? It could be exchanging family news, friend news, church news, reunion news. And it could mean networking with common interests, sharing common concerns, discussing larger issues and matters that influence our common soc-iety.

I find that the first general approach is the “fallback” position for Facebook, but the latter way of using Facebook is actually more common, althoug sometimes subtly so. Even when not asked, we are all bombarded with comments, surveys, attachments, and links that move the "simple" exchanges into more complicated sharings of what matters deeply to each of us. And when this second approach bothers us as recipients too much, we often revert to seeing Facebook as only for the most positive and basic forms of social networking. Facebook should not be religious, or political, we might protest, or we might be told.

This complicated, wonderful medium is precisely what makes Facebook work. For what it’s worth, I’ve decided not to opt out, but I’ve also decided not to worry about who likes or dislikes what I say. I’ll promise not to be personally offensive, or to use inflammatory rhetoric, as is common courtesy in all civil discourse. But the amount of discussion my recent posts have caused, and the amount of positive encouragement I have received – from students, my primary audience, as well as other friends for whom I am thankful to have the interchange—tell me that we all like a good discussion, and we all are really more interested in culture, religion, politics, values, and faith than we might initially think.

We like the interchanges because they move Facebook networking from charming niceties to substantial sharing of the depths of our complicated and wonderful selves.

Or so it seems.

slp / 11 Sept 09

20 December 2008, 5:00 p.m. Bangalore, Karnataka, India

On this last day as a tourist/student in India, I went to Catholic Mass. Actually, I happened upon St. Mary’s Basilica, as daily mass was commencing, and I figured that if I could do puja in a sacred Hindu city, then maybe Christian Catholic mass was okay. At the service, I was blessed by the large and devout crowd of congregants, reciting the liturgy in full voice and kneeling in prayer on floor and in pew. Once again, at a Christian service in India, I saw the ways that religious traditions cross over into each other: Indian Christians bringing marigolds to offer to Jesus and Mary, devotees folding hands in the classic Hindu style, and acceptance of the host like Sikhs and Hindus accept the prasada following prayers. The service was actually my first attendance in a Catholic mass, I’m embarrassed to say (in World Religions courses, I often require students to do so). Perhaps, on this pilgrimage journey of my own, it is appropriate that I attended the mass here.

Earlier I walked enthusiastically the few blocks from my hotel to visit the Bangalore Parsee Zoroastrian Temple. After visiting numerous Hindu shrines and temples, many Muslim mosques, some Christian churches, and after never being refused entry into a Sikh or Jain temple, I was surprised to be denied entry here, even to the porch area. Although a guard let me walk on the grounds, a priest soon emerged to lecture the guard and deny me conversation or entry. In the very security-conscious environment here in Bangalore, I will assume that language barriers, terrorism concerns, and perhaps a little theology are the bases for this abrupt refusal. Zoroastrians are known for a very strict works righteousness – God is a god who will punish fiercely, and there is no concept of mercy – as well as their reverence for their holy scriptures, the Avesta, which they deem to be the presence of God itself.

Bangalore is a large modern city, filled with buses and auto rickshaws, professional office buildings and technology firms, and several large parks. The photo is actually of a smaller neighborhood one, simply because my feet are tired of walking any more. Today I also stopped to have a shoe shine, the first on the trip (despite the incessant offerings in North India). I did have to wait about 15 minutes, as the cobbler repaired several sandals for a lady while negotiating a deal to make a new pair of dress shoes for another customer. I found his quick skilled handwork impressive, and his attitude of hard, positive work rewarding. He is one of thousands of similar shoe makers who line Indian streets with little stalls, laboring every day with an important skill. Likely there are similar workers in America, but once again I was reminded how much we do not see in the U.S., as well as how little we value the toil taken for something as simple as a pair of shoes.

The city has a large Muslim population, and I spoke with the imam at this very large Islamic center (worship mosque, community center, and educational facility). He was pleased that I could say a few Arabic phrases – Thanks be to God, In the name of God, Peace to you in the name of God – and I was pleased to hear of the community’s strong message against terrorism, as the sign reflects.



While in Amritsar early on this trip, I was introduced to the writings of Khushwant Singh, one of India’s most widely read and controversial Sikhs. He had been active in the struggles between Sikhs, Hindus, and Muslims around the time of the creation of Pakistan, and he was important to the work of Gandi and others. He has an autobiography, entitled “Truth, Love, and a Little Malice.” I suppose that is both the goal and the reality for most of us. We want to speak and know the truth, we want to love and be loved, and, alas, we admit that we share thoughts of envy and anger. This online journal began as an attempt to think aloud about my India journey – to wrestle with matters of faith and spirituality, politics and tolerance, modernity and globalism. And I suppose, as an attempt at truth, love, as well as the calming of malice.

The journey has only begun.

slp

20 December 2008. Bangalore.

It is early Friday morning here, following yesterday’s train travel from Hassan, through Mysore, to Bangalore. The Indian railroad system is impressive, though not always efficient. There are two major kinds of trains, coach travel and sleepers. The sleepers do provide a bed, but they are not prompt. They make long runs across the country, stopping throughout the night and day at small junctions. Yesterday’s sleeper from Hassan to Mysore was over an hour late, and the 3:30 a.m. wait on the small town platform was a bit discomforting. But the connecting coach train – an express route to Bangalore, was on schedule, comfortable, and quick.

Along the way from my window seat, I noticed several things, in no certain order:

• Flowers abound. In the north, lotus blossoms are very popular, but in the south, marigolds are the most obvious. They are used for worship offerings and to make those large flower ropes and leis.
• India’s landscape changes rapidly, from tropical paradises to something like Texas hill country to more arid regions, all within one state in south India. To be sure, there were more coconut groves and rice paddies than any other plant life, but the overall variety mirrors the great diversity of the people.

• Roadways of any sort are sparse, and anything like a major highway is rare. Rail travel is the mode of transportation, for those who must travel between towns. The lack of major roadways also preserves small town, village, or hamlet life, unlike so many dying towns along America’s interstates.
  
• Hindu temples are most often very small buildings with one central shrine, set in neighborhoods and along business streets (even in the middle of the road), and the larger temple complexes appear at sacred towns and rivers. The major temples are impressive, usually with large courtyards and multiple shrines, but the day to day religious life of Hindus centers around the small ones. This arrangement reflects the nature of Hinduism – accessible to all people, wherever they are, whatever they do.
  
• Cobra mounds dot the landscape, at least in the south. They look like giant fire ant mounds, up to two feet tall. I’m happy not to have seen a cobra.

• Indians like their cell phones, and they like to talk loudly into them. They also like fancy and long ring tones.
  
• School children wear uniforms, both for public and private schools. Everyone whom I’ve met has advocated for private schools if the families can afford them. Even for public schools, in some parts of the country, families must pay a monthly fee for school bus / rickshaw transportation.
  
• India is a veritable fruit feast. Joining the ever-present bananas are the largest mangoes I’ve ever seen, apples and oranges of all sorts, among others.
  
• Cricket is certainly the national sport. I found these energetic players taking batting practice, the Indian way, in Mysore.
  Last night I walked around the hotel area, and I watched a furniture store employee offering special puja for the business. He was praying, facing the store, and then suddenly, he took a coconut and slammed it into the steps, spreading the juice all around. A final lemon squeeze over the offering, and the service ended. Unfortunately, I did not have the camera. The owner told me that they do this every week, in preparation for Friday, asking for a good week of business.
  

Today I hope to visit a Parsee temple. Parsees are a version of Zoroastrians, whose religion developed in Persia during the 400s B.C. So I hope to have a final journal entry tomorrow, before leaving to come home.

One aspect of Zoroastrianism, which I had often attributed only to that religion, is the ubiquitous swastika, which one sees all over India – on business doors and advertisements, over home entries, and in Hindu temples. Not known by most of us is that this symbol is ancient and sacred. It signifies the cycle of life – Hindu samsara, or “turning” – that supports Hindu philosophy and ethics. Its use by Hindus is yet another kind of puja – prayer offering – for good days, successful business, and spiritual growth. I am told that the Indian version of the swastika is a reverse form of the later Nazi version. Whatever the case, the dominant takeover of this image by Nazism, and all that it implies, reminds us of the power not only of rich spiritual symbols but also of their evil distorted uses. It also cautions us against quick judgments based on assumptions and perceptions. As the wisdom writer said, there is indeed a time to speak (against evil, for example) and a time to be silent. (The biblical exegetes will forgive my probable misuse of scripture, please.)

I close this morning with a poem from R. N. Tagore, India’s great poet of the late nineteenth century:

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow walls;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by Thee into every-widening thought and action –
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

slp

Really Really Big Statues

Thursday 18 December 2008. Hassan, Karnataka, India

It takes 620 rock-cut steps to climb this stone hill, It seems like 6200. But the treat at the top (3314 feet above sea level) is spectacular, a Jain temple and the central feature: “the largest man in the world.” He is just under 60 feet tall, carved out of grey granite somewhere around 980 A.D.

His name is Gomateshhvara, or Bahubali, son of Adinath, who was the first tirtankara (“crossing one,” or great teacher) in Jain mythology. As the story goes, Bahubali was involved in a brotherly struggle to follow their father as emperor and tirtankara, but Bahubali realized the futility of such struggles, renounced his kingdom and all of the material world, and fled to the forest to meditate until enlightenment. He is depicted in this phenomenal statue in the nude, and with vines and even a cobra around his feet, signs of his total contentment and detachment from worldly matters.

The statue is located in Sravanabelagola, a key Jain center here in South India. While most of the south has remained untouched by substantial non-Hindu presence, this particular area in Karnataka is the exception. In the 200s B.C., the first great Indian emperor Chandragupta Maurya renounced his rule and brought Jainism – a northeast Indian religion – here to Sravanabelagola. Jainism features a renunciation of the world, and one of its divisions takes this to the extreme of nude living, but most Jains are peaceful, simple people who find in the 24 tirtankaras, and especially the last one Mahavira, a model of spiritual living. The town is now a major Jain pilgrimage sight, and every twelve years thousands come here to pour milk, honey, and other signs of devotion on the great Bahubali. I was here at a less busy time, and I was thankful. On my way down the hill, I learned of a much easier way to get to the top – with dholis, strong men with a bamboo chair.

There are two other Jain temples here, a stunning older temple on a smaller nearby hill, and a “live” temple, where local Jains worship, called the Chandranatha Basti, with some of the most impressive paintings and carvings I have seen anywhere.

I was taken to Sravanabelagola by a driver, Hamid, whom I hired for the day for $20. The drive was mostly enjoyable. At one point, he said “This road is not good;” I was looking for a road. Hamid is a Muslim – who stopped twice today to pray – and he has spent his entire life in Hassan. Muslims represent a slightly larger percentage of the population in this area, about 25%. He impressed me with his knowledge of the three religions here, as well as his comfort with the three living alongside each other.

He took me later to Belur and Halebid, two dusty farm towns on the edge of a more tropical area.

Their temples represent the best examples of Hoysala Hindu culture, the dominant tribe around 1100 A.D. The temples have shorter tops and more expanse within the worship area, even having the slight appearance of an early Christian basilica. They are crammed with rock carvings of every possible god and most scenes in the great Hindu myths. They also feature a peculiar trait: no two columns are the same, with each having its own unique design.

The second of the two temples, the Hoysalesvara in Halebid, features two large granite bulls, images of Nandi, the bull of lord Shiva. Nandi symbolizes power and potency, among other things, and he can be seen throughout India. Yesterday on the way down another mountain, I found this very large Nandi, carved out of solid rock. Cattle of all sorts roam freely here, or have owners, or are viewed as common property for their fuel source. They also stop traffic, and I am told that there are very large fines for hitting a cow while driving. I’ve spoken earlier about Hinduism and cows, but seeing these bull images deserved another comment.

It is now 6:00 p.m. here, Thursday.

The sun is setting in this small town of Hassan. Cars, auto rickshaws, and trucks are honking. Construction workers are hammering. Crows are cawing. And the cool, 70 degree air is settling in. People are walking home, or to shop, or to meet friends and talk. Bicyclists negotiate for space among buses. Streetlights flicker on. This day slows down, and all is well.

All is normal. Just like in Lubbock, or wherever life moves on.
slp