Long ago, when I was putting down random thoughts for an earlier column, I wrote, “We keep running out of Kleenex.”
Little did I know how profound that short sentence was, or how much it would sum up the years I spent as part of the Spiritual Care staff at Our Place Society in Victoria.
Because we DID keep running out of Kleenex in our crowded, and we thought, welcoming, little office just off the drop-in floor of the Our Place building on Pandora Avenue. A whole lot of crying, and drying of tears went on in that space over the years. Not that it was anything in particular that we did or said that caused the tears to flow or dried them. Simply making space to be heard was often enough for people to hear themselves – telling their story – figuring out their own strengths and ability to go on – speaking their own wisdom and answers – and dry their tears. If I had wondered before taking on the position whether I was wise enough to offer spiritual advice and encouragement, I need not have worried. Often, after a long and heartfelt monologue, during which I had murmured once or twice or repeated a few of the wise words I had heard, the person would leave with profuse thanks and somehow, the certainty that it was something I had said that made them feel better!
Whoever we are, wherever we are in our life’s journey, we are quick to expect perfection of ourselves. This is not only true of people who have suffered, often brutally, under the scrutiny of parents, teachers, courts, systems and society and been found “short of the mark”. Perhaps it is even more true of the “successful” of the world. Citius – Altius – Fortius (Faster – Higher – Stronger) may be the Olympic motto, but it is surprising how many of us expect something similar of ourselves every day. While such aspirations might be useful when training for the Olympics, the expectations created by constantly holding ourselves to such unattainable standards often result in disappointment, disillusionment and despair. Our religious institutions, too, have added to our perception that only perfection is acceptable. Even Jesus supposedly said, “Be perfect, as God is perfect.” That’s a tall order!
On the other hand, maybe that Greek word teleios, which can mean ‘perfect’ might have better been translated as it is more commonly used, as maturity or wholeness. Wholeness includes light and darkness, joy and grief, wisdom and foolishness, hurt and forgiveness. Dare we see holding ourselves – whoever we are, wherever we find ourselves in the often-uncompromising hierarchy of our society – to the standard of wholeness, rather than perfection?
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, in her poem “The Way It Is” talks about perfection, joy and acceptance.
Over and over we break
open, we break and
we break and we open.
For a while, we try to fix
the vessel – as if
to be broken is bad.
As if with glue and tape
and a steady hand we
might bring things to perfect
again. As if they were ever
perfect. As if to be broken is not
also perfect. As if to be open
is not the path toward joy.
© Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
A friend chose and read that poem at a healing circle for front line workers. We likely ran out of Kleenex at that gathering too.
Wholeness happens when we make space for ourselves and one another, when we are present, when we listen deeply to the voice reminding us that perfection was never the goal, and that whole doesn’t mean not broken.
Julianne Kasmer is a minister in the United Church of Canada and recently retired chaplain at Our Place Society.
*Excerpt from “The Way It Is” by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, from the collection Naked for Tea (Able Press, ©2018) Used by permission of the author.
You can read more articles from our interfaith blog, Spiritually Speaking at /blogs/spiritually-speaking
* This article was published in the print edition of the Times 91原创 on Saturday, November, 5th 2022
