I’m intrigued by the concept of leaderless organizations. Perhaps you have heard of The Starfish and the Spider: The Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations
Today I just learned about two professional orchestras that rehearse, perform, and record without the aid of a central authority figure—the conductor: the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra (founded in 1972) and A Far Cry (a relatively new group). Leadership is shared and rotates among the musicians, from one piece of music to another and sometimes mid-stream, depending upon the unique skills, nuances, and balance needed by the musical composition and the consensus of the orchestra. Here’s a YouTube video of A Far Cry in one of their concerts.
Here’s an excellent article by Michael Daniels, an amateur musician who attended an Orpheus concert several months ago with his professional violinist wife, Heidi. I would recommend reading the entire post, but here’s a taste for those who may not have the time or inclination:
The traditional, institutional church has followed a very similar path as the traditional, institutional orchestra. In the beginning, neither had a “conductor” in the true sense. The early church was led by learned men who agonized over the interpretations of what they perceived to be the words of God. Similarly, early orchestras were led—if not by the composer of a given work himself—by the concertmaster…the most learned and experienced musician among them.
Over time, both institutions began to travel a different path. Rather than a musician being both a part of the orchestra, in addition to being its leader, the role of “conductor” became a “special” function—set apart from the rest of the people on stage. It became the conductor who solely interpreted the music, who solely took responsibility for its successes and failures, and who solely accepted the applause of appreciative crowds.
Similarly, in the church, the “vicar class” was born. Bishops, Priests, Pastors, and other roles were invested with meaning well beyond that found in scripture, or invented from whole cloth—meaning that set them apart from “normal” members of the flock—the “laymen.”
Where the conductor was responsible for interpreting the intent of the composer, these “pastors” became responsible for the interpretation of God’s intent. Where the conductor’s shoulders bore the weight of the orchestra’s success or failure, the pastor’s shoulders bore the responsibility for the eternal souls of his parishoners. Where the conductor was glorified when “his” orchestra performed well, the pastor became the object of special status—including promotion in the new ecclesiastical hierarchy—depending on the “performance” of “his” church.
Orpheus, to me, is a symbol of where the church is going. I cannot speak for all believers, but I can speak for a small but growing portion of us. We are steadily wearying of the so-called “experts” who impress upon us their interpretations of God’s will with less and less justification. Instead, we are turning to relationships—the same sort of relationships that I saw on that stage last night.
Think of the incredible amount of trust those musicians must have in one another. If a single person falters, the whole performance suffers. If a single person even fails to communicate—fails to cue the others when beginning a new phrase, fails to hear or see what another part of the ensemble is doing, fails in any way to either understand the other musicians, or to make him or herself understood in turn—what was a glorious piece of music a moment before is suddenly a cacophany of mere noise.
(HT: Wayne Jacobsen)
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