Humans are often resistant to change. We also demand it. In previous work roles, I have been brought in as a change agent only to be thwarted because the leadership did little or nothing to create the conditions for change. When I began to facilitate change, refusal ruled and I was singled out as a problem rather than a solution. I have also been in workplaces where change was enacted without productive or thoughtful purpose and where employees’ inquiries were shot down. When is change beneficial and when is it without merit?
The natural world, with its cycles and evolution, is the best model for change that I can imagine; however, human interventions to change the natural world are disastrous. Seasonal changes feel more miraculous to me each year.
Throughout my adult life, I have considered September the start of the year with the promise of change. Living in an area with 12 colleges and universities contributes to this tendency since the fall semester is the beginning for students, faculty and much of the staff. In New England, foliage is a brilliant start. My birthday falls in the middle of the month.
Rosh Hashanah is the head of the year on the Jewish calendar, and it is typically in September. It is customary to offer a blessing for a sweet new year and to begin a meal with apples dipped in honey. The 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are known as both the Days of Awe and the Days of Repentance. When the shofar (horn) is blown, we are jolted awake spiritually and reminded to account for our deeds and conduct. We seek forgiveness from the people we have injured and we offer repair. Discomfort aside, this is an ideal opportunity to change what is not serving us or others. Such change is meaningful.
In Massachusetts, Sept. 1 marks our primary election day this year. Voters may seek change without forethought about what it will bring or they may vote for productive change. Voters may also reelect officials who they feel are doing a good job. I am rarely absolutist since no politician checks all of my boxes while doing good work as a public servant. This year I am grieving that I cannot in good conscience vote for someone I once admired tremendously because too many principled lines were crossed, yet I will not vote for an opponent as a reactive move. I feel sad to skip a box, and I will likely skip two other boxes for similar reasons.
When candidates offer change without substance, don’t buy it. If someone claims they are better because they are younger, look for the red flag of arrogance and small-mindedness. Candidates running for important seats should not appear at public forums in cargo shorts, untucked T-shirts and tennis shoes. The attempt to be folksy in some way is a disturbing and distracting trend. It is shockingly unprofessional. Think ahead. When the candidate gets to Washington or to Boston, what will s/he actually accomplish? Will they discharge self-reverential sound bites ala Bernie Sanders or will they work to serve their region or the commonwealth with actual achievements? For example, what did people in Maine think Graham Platner would do once he was elected? Why are people lured by the hot air of grievance?
Productive political change, on the other hand, stems from innovation and the skills to advance a mission of some sort. It likely involves leaders inviting diverse input and teams. Lessons are learned from failures, and successes are felt by all involved. Consequential results are realized by constituents.
Change is inevitable at various junctures throughout our lives. It may be welcome or unwelcome, and it usually carries a degree of meaning. I was born in Pittsburgh and lived in six additional states throughout my childhood. It was difficult at times, yet I learned not to fear change. For me, a shift may elicit feelings of uneasiness and vulnerability alongside a fundamental faith that the unknown is a temporary status for what will one day be familiar and affirming. Such is the case with my official conversion to Judaism this week.
Three rabbis will ask questions to ensure my sincerity and readiness in a Beit Din — the house of law. Then I will enter the mikveh — a ritual bath with three immersions required for conversion. My nervousness is a combination of the joyful anticipation one has for a welcome life-altering experience and the humility that my preparation is hardly complete. Naming this “transformative” feels inadequate for my imagined profundity of the day. Ani Yehudit (I am Jewish). May I live up to the merit and responsibility of this incredibly meaningful change.
J.M. Sorrell is a monthly columnist.