Imitation aim: Thoughtfulness

At the office, I would like to be more like my colleague "Audrey."

She led a small project that recently finished. I was part of the project. A few days ago, I and others received handwritten notes from Audrey. Mine included,

"Thank you for your contributions to our small testing team ... Your upbeat spirit and fun remarks helped carry us all through longer testing activities ... Best wishes to you as you continue working towards your goals ..."

This unnecessary but significant act of humility and thoughtfulness made an impression on me. It certainly was a way to share Christ's light within an office.

Office fooling!

One year ago, on April 1, I emailed the colleagues in my hallway:

As you may know, every year, Washington DC hosts a very popular “Cherry Blossom Festival,” featuring the striking pink and white blossoms from the trees donated by Japan in 1912 as an act of goodwill (c.f., http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherry_blossom).

You may also know that in the evenings, inspired by an adventurous appetite, I have recently begun studying at a local culinary institute to become a non-dessert pastry specialist.

This year, I decided to combine the local festival with my new trade and made a full batch of “Cherry walnut marshmallow raisin scones” to share. (Yes, this is an original recipe. “Cherry trees” and “cherry scones,” do you get it?)

Because of the presence of both walnuts and marshmallows, it is important to keep the scones slightly chilled. Herein, I have left several dozen in the small cooler with the orange top in the printer room. Please give them a try if you would like!

Then, I put the small cooler with the orange top in the printer room, empty except for a note that said "April Fools!"

As people filed into the printer room one by one, I listened with amusement from down the hallway. "Oh man, he got me!" I heard, and "Well, those scones were sure 'low-calorie.'"

On the whole, I think that it brought many people a good laugh.

+++ +++ +++ +++

This year, I tried a different approach. Instead of playing a joke, I did what I had joked about last year.

I made cherry bars this year, and to my colleagues, I wrote,

This year, I really did make cherry walnut oatmeal bars. Feel free to stop by my office to give them a try. Since I never did actually enroll in a a culinary school, maybe you can give me some tips on my recipe.

Ironically, some of them were determined not to be fooled twice and didn't believe me at all this year. But by now most of them have discovered the truth. I've certainly gotten them thinking, and I think that it again has had a positive effect.

I think that having a light-hearted spirit in an office is a good way of indirectly sharing the joy of Christ.

A "Catholic difference"? (Part 2)

I am thinking of two people.

The first person is a member of my parish. This is where I meet him. He is a nice guy. I see him at Mass on Sunday. Later, I realize that he too is a mathematician and works for an employer similar to mine.

The second person is a colleague. I have met him at work. Like others in our field, I respect his technical expertise. Later, I find out that he too is Catholic. Occasionally, I go to Mass at his parish on my way to work and see him there.

In a sense, I may think of the first man as "a Catholic who happens to be a mathematician" and of the second man as "a mathematician who happens to be Catholic."

Is there a difference?

For me as a fellow Catholic, there may be no difference. I recognize the necessity for a Catholic to integrate his faith and his work: to be a "good Catholic" on the job and to do well at a job as an expression of the values of faith. Both of these men are valuable role models to me.

But if I was not Catholic, would there be a difference in the potential for these men to be an "undercover missionary" to me?

A "Catholic difference"? (Part 1)

One of the speakers at the retreat that I attended this past Saturday was introduced as a psychologist. Taking the microphone himself, he clarified that he was not just a psychologist but a Catholic psychologist, and added "and that makes a big difference."

When I am asked about my job, I say that I am a mathematician. What if I were to add, "and I am a Catholic mathematician"? Would that make a big difference?

Or at the times when I mention that I would in an office, what if I were to add, "and I am a Catholic who works in an office"? Would that make any difference?

Unlike the field of psychology, where Catholic doctrine may make an explicit contribution, I do not know that any actual mathematical ideas can be characterized as "Catholic." (Am I overlooking any?) Therefore, in practice, I probably would not mention my Catholicism when mentioning my occupation.

But, even if the actual mathematics that I do is not influenced by my Catholicism, is the way in which I do that mathematics at all influenced by me being Catholic? To be a Catholic mathematician who works in an office, what would that mean?

Jesus and the Modern Office Man

One of the highlights of my recent trip to Philadelphia was this statue behind St. Charles Seminary.

In it, Jesus is flanked by a kneeling gentleman in a double-breasted suit with a stethoscope around his neck and a book at his feet.

Initially, I assumed that the gentleman was a saint and that the stethoscope meant that he had been a doctor, and I scrunched my brow to think which 19th or 20th century saint had been a doctor.

To the contrary, though, the seminary residents told me that "Jesus and the Modern Man" was erected in the early 20th century and that the man was simply a representative "modern man." The stethoscope and book were symbols of the most modern things of that time.

Though I was slightly disappointed with this explanation (even asking two separate residents just for confirmation), I still found the notion of a man amidst modernity walking with Jesus to be both fascinating and energizing.

In a sense, it was as though the man not only carried this modernity in his possessions, but also incorporated it into his relationship with Jesus, even perhaps therein making that relationship fuller.

(It sometimes seems to me that modern elements can impede our relationship with Jesus. What a challenge to use them to assist that relationship! What an insight!)

A hundred years ago, medicine boasted many of the most cutting-edge technologies. What technologies would join it today? I like to think of the technology with which I'm surrounded at my office and the related ideas as being among this group.

Could I picture myself at my desk in my office in this modern man's place? Can I use these modern elements to grow closer to Jesus and to help others in the same?

Bearing an ashen cross

A few years ago, around this time of year, I had the following exchange at work with "Lindsay":

Lindsay: [Visibly baffled] "Ummm, I think that there's something ... I mean ..."
Phil: "Pardon me?"
Lindsay: "Do you know that you have like dirt or someting on your head?"
Phil: "Unh hunh. Sure. Those are ashes. Today is Ash Wednesday. The ashes used to be in the shape of a cross until I accidentally smudged them."
Lindsay: "Wow. Oh yeah. I think I've heard of that."

Urgency for the ordinary

St. Jose Maria Escriva, in 1967, added new urgency and new encouragement to efforts to grow in holiness while on the job:

Either we learn to find our Lord in ordinary, everyday life, or else we shall never find Him.

This week, I will strive anew to find the signs of our Lord and to find Him amidst my office work.

The toothbrush walk

Soon after I started my full-time job, I went to the dentist and learned that I had a cavity. It was the first cavity that I had received in fifteen years. Determined not to get another, I took a toothbrush to work and began brushing my teeth every day after lunch.

Typically, it is after I brush my teeth that I take the long way back to my office. It is by this route that I pass the offices of many other of my colleagues. Perhaps around 1:30 or 2 PM they have come to expect the sight of me strutting by with a toothbrush in hand or even propped in the front pocket of my shirt.

Generally, I try to stop to talk to at least one colleague each afternoon. I may tell them about one of my projects. I may ask them about their families. I may discuss some humorous trivia. I may answer a question about the latest riddle posted on my board.

Seeing me carrying a toothbrush down the hallway probably already gives them a dose of amusement. ("Why in the world is he carrying around that silly toothbrush?" they may ask.) But I hope that the substance of my visit also brings some light-heartedness to their afternoon.

I think that visiting my colleagues after I brush my teeth is a good way for me to connect with them.

Thinking about an office Rosary

At Case Western Reserve University, we had a group that prayed the Rosary every night at 9:30 PM at a picnic table outside the dorms (or in a lobby in the winter).

At North Carolina State University, I was part of a different group that increased its frequency each semester, eventually meeting to pray the Rosary outside of the student center each weekday afternoon.

In both places, praying the Rosary amidst studies was an edifying routine. I think that it helped my faith. I think that it also helped my studies.

Could a similarly regular Rosary group be formed at my current research lab? What would it be like to pray with others amidst a workday? How might it help our laboratory? This possibility has been on my heart for several years.

If such a Rosary group became an officially recognized organization, we could reserve conference rooms and meet there. Alternatively, we could try to find a distant table in one of the cafeterias. Where else could we meet?

Perhaps we could meet once a week during lunchtime. Or, we might find it more practical to meet in the morning. Are there other times that would work better?

How willing would fellow Catholic colleagues be to participate? Would potential conflicts with deadlines, meetings, or experiments deter them? Other groups meet for Bible studies or prayer groups during the day (I've been to some). Would there be more aversion to a formal prayer like the Rosary?

"For all the intentions of our laboratory, of our sponsors, of our supervisors, of our colleagues, and of their families, ..." For these things, we might pray.

Next to my desk, I have a small Marian prayer card on which I have written, "Mary, Queen of the Office, pray for us!" May she also intercede for the fruition of this Rosary group idea, if it please her son.

The chance to be friendly

A heavier-set fellow with a bright red sweater and energetic blond hair moved about the banquet hall. Eight months ago, I had met him at a Nationals baseball game with our lab's "Young Professionals Network." What was the chance that "Sam" would remember me? I debated whether I should say hello to him.

At the game last May, he had come by himself, and indicated that he knew very few colleagues after recently starting to work. I'd had a choppy but persistent conversation with him then. By now, maybe he had gotten to know more colleagues and was less "on his own." Then again, he appeared to have come to this large lunch gathering by himself. Maybe he would appreciate if someone like me reached out to him.

A Gospel choir sang loudly, followed by an exuberant historical reenactor. If I tried to say hello, Sam might not even hear me. He might be caught by surprise. He might not understand me. We might try to prolong the conversation but not know what to say. He might feel as though I was only saying hello because I was feeling sorry for him and feel badly about that.

I watched Sam finish his lunch, then move on to dessert, and to a cup of soda. If only he had already left, it would have solved my dilemma. (Since he wouldn't be there, I couldn't say hello.) But instead, I was the one to leave.

Walking back to my office, I realized that I hadn't been thinking ahead about being friendly when I arrived at this lunch gathering. Instead, I was mostly thinking about eating lunch as reasonably quickly as possible so that I would have less time to make up later in the afternoon. But being friendly to a stranger might have been the most meaningful thing that I would have done all day.

"Lord," I prayed, "I'm sorry that I might have missed a chance to be an encouragement to another. I'd like to do a better job at this. If You would like me to reach out to Sam, could You please help me to run into him again?"