The Flaming Brazier

Accepting our lot as imperfectly perfect Christians

Genesis 15:5-6, 17-18

The Lord God took Abram outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can. Just so,” he added, “shall your descendants be.” Abram put his faith in the LORD, who credited it to him as an act of righteousness.

 When the sun had set and it was dark, there appeared a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, which passed between those pieces. It was on that occasion that the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying: “To your descendants I give this land,  from the Wadi of Egypt to the Great River, the Euphrates.”

          Do you suffer from perfectionism – that desire to be perfect in your life: to be the perfect husband, the perfect wife, the all-A student, the quarterback who never throws an interception, the priest who always gives a great homily, etc? We all feel a little of that push to be perfect, don’t we? I think the best antidote for such perfectionism is to mess up and then be able to laugh at yourself after you do.

          Several years ago, I was in a chapel attending a small Mass with just a group of priests, no lay people. That meant the priests themselves had to be the lectors and altar server, etc., and I got to be the lucky lector. That day, the first reading was exactly the same as today’s first reading from Genesis 15, but the translation was the older translation, before it was revised a few years ago. You may have noticed that today’s reading says, “There appeared a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, which passed between those pieces.” The older version, however, had this: “there appeared a smoking fire pot and a flaming brazier, which passed through those two pieces.”  But when I said the word “b-r-a-z-i-e-r” I accidentally said, “a flaming brassiere.” Well, you can just imagine the laughter among my brother priests. So, what did I do? I wrote to the pope and explained the problem with that word, and that’s why he ordered that a new translation of the Bible should be used at the Mass. And now it reads, “A flaming torch.” So, all you lectors: you’re welcome! Here’s another example of imperfectionism. How many lectors have accidentally introduced today’s second reading by saying, “St. Paul’s letter to the Philippinos” instead of “to the Philippians”? When you mess up in front of a church full of people on Sunday, you are instantly cured of perfectionism. You know, every time I try too hard to be perfect, I just remember that “flaming brazier” and I feel very humbled and very imperfect. Sometimes the best we can do is to be imperfectly perfect.

          In the gospel today, we see Peter’s faltering attempts to be perfect as well. Peter is overcome with joy at Jesus’ Transfiguration and blurts out, “Master, it is good that we are here; let’s make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” The gospel goes on to add, “But he did not know what he was saying.” In other words, Peter was babbling. I bet James and John frequently reminded Peter about that incident, especially if his head was getting a little too big. And I’m sure now many of YOU will never let me forget Genesis 15! Peter’s imperfections are on public display in the gospels, but he was also able to laugh at himself when he saw his imperfections. I am convinced that Peter was the foundation of the Church NOT because he was perfect, but because he was humble, and he could laugh, and he could love. You see, Jesus is far more pleased with humility than perfection; that we struggle to be imperfectly perfect disciples.

          My friends, we are now into the second full week of Lent. It’s early enough in Lent that if you haven’t decided your Lenten resolution, it’s not too late. May I suggest that you work on rooting out perfectionism this Lent? Look at your faults and foibles and be able to laugh at yourself; don’t take yourself so seriously when you mess up. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I do NOT mean we shouldn’t try hard, or strive to be better, or that you should settle for mediocrity. By all means, be great! But when you mess up – and you WILL mess up – be able to laugh at yourself, and move on. One of the great saints said, “We will only stop struggling with lust six minutes after we’re in the grave.” In other words, there is no perfection on this side of the grave; we’re doing good to be imperfectly perfect Christians.

          And that goes for other people, too. Have you ever looked at someone else and thought: “Wow! There goes a perfect family! He’s the most caring husband, and she’s a gorgeous and giving wife! Their children are only seen and not heard, and a huge house and cool cars!” Well, let me share the same advice that Fr. Clayton Gould once gave me. He said, “John, everyone is normal until you get to know them.” Let me repeat that: “Everyone is normal until you get to know them.” Once you get to know someone – not just from a distance but up-close and personal – you realize they have problems and pitfalls, peculiarities, too. In other words, the “Jones next door,” are also striving to be imperfectly perfect.

          A few weeks ago, my mom asked me a very hard question. She said she tries very hard to pray when she goes to Adoration but she gets distracted. She wanted to know how to overcome distraction. I said, “Well, mom, I’m not sure we can overcome distraction in prayer, but maybe a distracted prayer is better than no prayer at all.” I explained further: “When I was a little boy, I used to bring you pictures I drew and I would sing songs for you. Those pictures and songs were far from perfect, but you love them anyway. I think that’s how God looks at our distracted prayers. He knows they’re the best we can do – and we utter them with love – and he accepts them with a smile.” You see, God the Father happily accepts our distracted and imperfect prayers.

          I’m not sure if this homily inspired anyone to become a lector at Mass. Who wants to mess up like Fr. John did?? But I do hope this homily helped some of you to keep struggling to be a better Christian; not to give up when you mess up. Folks, there is no perfection on this side of heaven; there are only priests trying to pronounce “brazier.”

          Praised be Jesus Christ!