First Parish Unitarian UniversalistTrue, to Imperfection
A homily preached by the Rev. Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton
June 6, 2004
Glynnis is very wise to realize the inevitability of mishaps in one’s life. And even wiser to realize the necessity of asking for help. As one graduates from high school, there’s an adult lifetime ahead of making mistakes! And needing help!
Though inevitable, mishaps are also valuable.
If you were raised with the Bible, you may have certain favorite stories and passages. There may also be certain ones that have stuck with you, not because they were helpful, but because they caused problems. One such difficult passage for me is in the Christian Scriptures, the words of Jesus, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
Combined with an emphasis on our sinful natures, every week having to have a sin to confess to the priest for Catholics or reciting a confession of sins in unison for Protestants, this Christian injunction to be perfect can leave a person feeling fairly worthless.
Even as children, most of us know that it’s impossible to be perfect. And, it seems utterly ridiculous to try to be something that isn’t possible. Some of us know that sense of worthlessness deep down inside as a failure from which we feel we will never, never recover.
For some, that worthless feeling drives us to be perfectionists. It prevents us from ever believing with inner conviction that we’ve done a great job, even when all signs from the outside, all evaluations, all feedback are positive. It may also prevent us from allowing others their imperfections. And so they experience us as always critical, always judging and distance themselves from us.
For others of us, that deepdown sense of worthlessness holds us back from having goals or dreams, even from working hard to do our best. It causes us to feel defeated and discouraged, in turn leading us to make poor decisions for ourselves. Some of us may be drawn into addictions, or unhealthy relationships, because we feel ourselves to be unworthy, imperfect.
Anyone who knows and tries to love one of these impossible perfectionists or defeated losers longs to see him or her discard that sense of worthlessness and build a life more whole, more sure. Most of us probably tend in one or the other of these directions, if not to the extreme. What each and every one of us needs is a reliable, gutsy sense of our own worth and dignity, and of our imperfection as well.
As for myself, I tend toward perfectionism in matters of mind and heart, and tend toward the soft-on-myself approach in matters physical. If you ever saw me downhill skiing you would know. How many times did I do that same easy “green” trail and was never bored!
As I say, I tend toward perfectionism except in regard to athletics. So, I was taken aback by a conversation, some time ago now, about the desirability of imperfection. The conversation took place at the end of my year of supervised student ministry, my internship, in a fairly wealthy suburban town. I’d like to tell you about this conversation, although I still haven’t come to understand it fully.
During my internship year, I attended the town’s interfaith clergy meetings. I had come to feel respect and affection for one of the local Roman Catholic priests. He always seemed to say the right thing, something perceptive and progressive, kind, often witty. After the last clergy meeting of the year, I chatted with this priest on the way out. He queried me, “So, what did you learn?” Sum up my entire internship year on the way to the door!?!
Respecting him as I did, I didn’t want to pass the question off with a joke. But, I was caught off-guard. “Well,” I said, searching for a response, “I learned that rich people are people too...And...well, that even though you’re not perfect, you can have a fine ministry anyway.” Without missing a beat, a UU colleague walking beside us said, “No. It’s because you’re not perfect that you’ll have a good ministry.”
I puzzled over that. I felt there was something profoundly true about her statement. But, I didn’t understand. How could it be that not being perfect is what makes for a good ministry? My whole life, possibly yours too, seems to have been built around trying to make myself and the world better, more perfect. So, why would my lack of success at that be what makes my life good? I felt she was right, but I didn’t know why. I’m still not sure, but the older I get, the more I know the truth of the statement.
It had been important for me to learn during my internship year, that being human, I have weaknesses and shortcomings, but that good ministry can happen anyway. It helps to know what your weaknesses are, and it is certainly crucial to be willing to acknowledge one when it is pointed out to you.
One of the benefits of an internship is that the student gets to see, close up, the ways in which the supervising minister isn’t perfect...but, hopefully, as I did during my internship year, also gets to see a strong ministry in action.
As I look forward to next year when we will have an intern here at First Parish, the first such opportunity of my ministry, I am excited and humbled by the challenge. If she’s at all observant, she’ll see my mistakes. And if I’m real with her, she will get to know my imperfections.
A weak area of my ministry here so far is in staff supervision. Next year, this will have to change as a new Director of Religious Education and a new musician—both still yet to be hired—join the staff, in addition to the Intern Minister, Megan. As an internship supervisor, I will be required by her seminary to take a year long course in supervisory techniques. I anticipate being a willing learner and that the lessons I learn will have application beyond the intern.
This new demand to build a strong staff coincides with the conclusion of my five years as a member of the Board of our District, the Ballou Channing District, three years as Vice President. While I feel a strong sense of accomplishment and know that my district involvement benefited First Parish in many ways, its ending will free up some time for this new demand on me.
This new demand to build a strong staff also coincides with a time of increased enthusiasm and energy in the congregation, and sense of direction in the leadership. This, too, suggests that I can refocus some of my attention on the staff.
We don’t have to be perfect...to be good ministers, good teachers, good managers, good doctors (well, actually, many patients do unfortunately expect their doctors to be perfect), custodians, programmers, nurses, lawyers, librarians, good people, good anything. We don’t have to be—and can’t be—perfect. However, I think my colleague’s statement went beyond the notion that we don’t have to be perfect to be good. She said, “it’s because you are not perfect that you can have a good ministry.”
It’s our flaws that humble us and remind us we’re only human, and it is the pain and sorrow we’ve known, the suffering, that connects us to the pain and sorrow of others. This is at the heart of ministry, not just of ministry done by the clergy, but any ministry of care between people such as yourselves. Someone who thinks they are perfect or expects perfection of themselves or others, or has not known pain and sorrow, will not make a true connection with others.
At my house, we’ve just spent the last week or more cleaning up in preparation for houseguests and a party yesterday to celebrate our son’s graduation from high school this afternoon. We worked hard trying to get things to look as good as possible. Of course, these were tasks that had long been put off—from pruning the shrubs to sorting the piles of mail and magazines. But, I was reminded of the time, years ago, when we were feverishly cleaning up before visitors came and my daughter said, “why can’t people just see how we really live?”
Why are we trying to appear perfect? Well, in our defense, if you have a small house and you want to make space for visitors, you have to get rid of some of the clutter. But, in some sense, she was absolutely right. Why do we want to seem better than we are?
If you look perfect, you’re not being real--because no one is perfect. So, if a ministry looks perfect, it’s not strong--it’s weaknesses are just hidden. A strong family is the same way--if it looks perfect, it’s not strong--it’s weaknesses are just hidden. In a strong family, congregation, workplace, nation, world and anywhere people are being real and not trying to seem perfect, they’ll talk about their disagreements, openly, hopefully kindly, without blame or fear. In that kind of climate, everyone knows no one is perfect. And no one is pretending to be otherwise.
Mother Teresa once said this kind of thing in a different way. It was during the Ethiopian famine of the 1980’s. A reporter wanted to know how she could work with the sick and dying all the while knowing that she wouldn’t be successful with everyone and many would die. “We are not here to be successful,” she said. “We are here to be faithful.”
There is an inherent tension in our desire to be the best we can be and do the best we can do, all the while knowing that perfection is impossible. That tension relaxes somewhat, it seems to me, if we, like Mother Teresa, look not to be perfect, or even to succeed, but rather to be faithful.
There is a story about the great Hasidic master Rabbi Zusya. Perhaps you’ve heard it; I’ve told it here once before, six years ago last month when I was candidate to be your minister.
Rabbi Zusya grew old and knew that his death was soon to come. His students were called around him. One timidly asked him about his fears of dying. I’m afraid of what God will ask me on my Judgment Day. He won’t ask me why I wasn’t like Moses? He won’t ask me why I wasn’t like Abraham? He won’t ask me why I wasn’t like David, or Isaiah? He’ll ask: why weren’t you Zusya?
In this season of transitions, of graduations and reunions, of leadership terms ending and others beginning, of leave-takings and fare-thee-wells, it’s a good time to remember that no one is perfect, that mishaps happen and when they do, ask for help. To look to be faithful, not perfect or even successful. True to yourself, as Zusya knew. True to ourselves, our perfectly imperfect selves. That’s what we are! Perfectly imperfect.
Amen.