“Be
perfect as your God in heaven is perfect.”
Easy
for Jesus to say! But as a fundamentalist Christian kid, I believed this was my
goal. It made perfect sense to me. Except there was one area of my life in
which I would never be “perfect”: I had these feelings for other boys, not just
of attraction, but of love. And such tender feelings had no place between boys
in the 1950s.
A
recent study verifies “the best little boy in the world” syndrome among gay men,
according to a New York Times op-ed.
To make up for our “deficit,” we had to be the best somewhere else—in studies,
sports, stage, spirituality, social action, or service, to name a few that
alliterate nicely.
Long
before I learned that the term translated “perfect” actually suggests “complete”
as in “mature,” I had exchanged my childish goal of perfection for a
spiritually mature goal of integrity, to the benefit of my spiritual, mental,
and physical health and well-being.
Integrity
itself is a lofty goal, of course. And it is a lifelong process. Perfection has
the feeling of having arrived, being complete in and of oneself. But
integrating your beliefs, thoughts, feelings, experiences, speech, and actions is a
daily process that is never completed. I like to say that, in the spiritual
life, there is no “finish line.”
It
was not until later that I paid adequate attention to the alternate version of
Matthew’s “be perfect as your God in heaven is perfect.” I don’t know how I overlooked
Luke’s version, “Be merciful as God is merciful” or, in another translation, “Be
compassionate just as God is compassionate.”
That
to me would have been an attainable goal even as a kid. Needing compassion
myself for my “flaw,” I readily offered compassion to others. Even adults felt
encouraged to share with me their most deeply felt feelings. I had a good ear. Intuitively,
I was Henri Nouwen’s “wounded healer.” That’s one of the reasons why I felt
called to ministry.
Listening
to—at first, dozens, and by now, thousands of—people gave my call to ministry a
prophetic edge. I just wanted to be a pastor, but now, I had a mission. Or,
better said, a passion. Nouwen liked to parse words, and pointed out that
“compassion” literally means “suffering (passion) with (com).”
At
first my passion was largely expressed in the movements for Civil Rights,
Peace, and LGBT inclusion and equality. But it was always felt for ALL those
excluded and diminished by the church and culture, those made to feel that they
were not “perfect,” but who nonetheless struggled for integrity, and struggled
to be compassionate. I imagine most readers of this blog know that experience.
I
believe that’s what progressive Christianity does in its finer moments: gathers
outsiders as “a mother hen gathers her brood under her wing,” just as Jesus
wished.
Related
posts:
Copyright © 2013 by
Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of
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