“The Not-So-Perfect Parent”

A Sermon by Rev. Bill McDonald based on Luke 18: 9-14

October 28, 2007

Luke 18

⁹He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: ¹⁰“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. ¹¹The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. ¹²I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ ¹³But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ ¹⁴I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Some parents say life begins at the moment of conception. Other parents say that life does not begin until the last child leaves home and the dog dies. But life as a parent actually begins as you sit slack-jawed in the delivery room suddenly deluged with guilt and worry that you won’t be the perfect parent for your newborn child. We create such huge, unrealistic expectations. Our child has to read by the time she or he is three years old, has to be a five-year old soccer star, has to belong to every club at school or in the neighborhood, has to take dance lessons, attend sports camps, go to the best schools and be in the top of the class. At times we begin to wonder if we are parents or merely schedulers and chauffeurs. We are constantly harassed by the nagging questions: “Are we doing this right?” “Are we doing enough?” “Are we leaving out something important?”

A family friend, Paige Smith, has a web-log on the Internet and a TV spot on Good Morning Texas called The Not-So-Perfect Parent. This is how Paige puts it: “I had just given birth to my first-born child. It was mid-afternoon and I was still in my pajamas – you’re probably all too familiar with this scene. As I nursed my darling son, my attention wandered to the television. As if to mock me, there stood one of those perfect ‘can-do’ women. You know the type. She was touting her herbal honey made with fresh picked herbs from her organically grown garden. I scoffed at her audacity, but the breaking point came when I watched her don beekeeper gear and collect honey from beehives. This was no mere woman. She had to be genetically engineered, a modern-day Stepford wife. Homemade honey – let’s get real! Thank goodness I came to my senses before I threw something through the television.”

We do need to come to our senses about our roles both as caring parents and professing Christians. Luke tells us a story to help us “get real.” Humor me as I enlarge the story a little.

Two men walk the winding cobblestone road from the city sprawling below them up to the flat mount on which the huge Temple is built. It’s almost 3pm, one of the two prescribed times for daily prayer for obedient Jews. Having arrived a little early, the two enter the almost empty Court of Israel at the same time, one man moving far to the front but the second man stepping just barely into the holy space and hovering uncertainly there in the back. The first man stands proudly at his prayers, for his life has indeed been exemplary. He is a Pharisee, the most devout of all Jews, the most dedicated to following the Law of Moses, dotting every “i” and crossing every “t.” In fact, as a Pharisee, he does more than is required of regular Jews. He fasts every Monday and Thursday instead of just at festival and holiday times. He gives ten-percent of his entire income, not just the ten-percent required on agricultural produce. Not only does he put a huge distance between himself and such sins as thievery and adultery and general evil-doing, he also keeps a distance from those who do such things. Beware the company you keep, you know. With that thought in mind he casts a glance back over his shoulder to the man standing in the rear.

This man is far from a Pharisee. In fact he is an outcast in the Jewish community because he works for the Romans as a tax-collector. In some people’s eyes this makes him a traitor. Because the Romans demand more and more money from him, he has to put a heavier hand on his fellow Jewish citizens, sometimes even cheating and charging them more that the Romans require just so he can support himself and his family. By his profession he is seen as a sinner and therefore is ritually unclean. No Jew who touched his hand out there at his booth would be allowed to come into this holy space without first washing their hands rigorously, until the raw skin was cleansed of his contagious sinfulness. He knows better than to walk to the front of this place of prayer.

And so they pray, these two who have so little in common except their belief in God. The Pharisee prays a prayer of pride. “Okay, God, I’m reporting in. I have done everything you commanded through your servant Moses. Not a blemish to my record. Over and above on every requirement. I have excelled at everything I have done. Thanks for allowing me the joy of being your faithful servant. I mean, I could have ended up like so many out there on the streets, criminals, immoral animals, untrustworthy deceivers. I am so glad that I am not like that, that I am not even like that guy standing back there. I see him at the toll-booth every day, arguing with hard-working citizens. I have had to hand him too many of my own family’s assets to satisfy those blood-sucking Romans. Thank God I’m not like him but can be a respected member of our community, a contributor to all that’s good about our society. Thank you, God, for making me who I am. Amen.” Just telling it like it is.

In the back the tax-collector can’t even lift his eyes from the floor. The weight of his sin presses down on him for even setting foot in this holy place. He knows it is wrong to cheat others, even to survive. He wishes he had never gotten involved with the occupying Roman government. But it’s too late to quit now; his family would starve in a month. The Romans hate his Jewish-ness and the Jews hate his collusion with the enemy. Caught between the two forces, he and his family are virtual untouchables with no one to care about their well-being. He feels the sin of what he will go back to doing tomorrow morning. He suffers for what his innocent wife and children have to bear. And he comes here to pour out his heart to the only One who might still care about him. Hating himself, he beats his chest and cries, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!” A bare-naked honest prayer of pain.

These two divergent descriptions would be familiar to and would not surprise Luke’s early Christian readers. But they would be shocked when they read Luke’s punch line. For Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Messiah, says that when the two finished their prayers, it was the tax-collector that went down to his house justified in the eyes of God. The tax-collector! Scripture doesn’t tell us what the tax-collector felt as he walked out through the temple portico, but usually when we feel justified and in harmony with God, our hearts are lightened, unburdened, and we are at peace with ourselves and the world, at least for a while. The Pharisee, who was a good man, didn’t leave condemned, just missing some essential element of which he wasn’t even aware. For there is something more essential than doing everything right. Avoiding bad behavior and bad people still somehow does not satisfy the need for honest humility before God. Getting real with God.

I find it intriguing that Luke placed this parable just before the story where Jesus welcomes the little children to come to him. I think there is a connection. My friend Paige might concur as she writes, “Honestly, being a parent is not about being perfect. It’s about being real. In my opinion, striving for perfection does not bring you closer to your kids. The pursuit of perfection only leads to frustration and serves as a wedge between you and your children. That said, I’m certainly relieved because I’ll never be perfect, so I’ve had to snuggle up to the concept of being a Not-So-Perfect parent and doing the best I can.” True words for all God’s children.

Not standing as some hard, marble, human-defined idol of perfection, but being real with God, being real with one another, being real with our children – that’s our goal. For in that open humanness, love can flow freely heavenward and earthward and the spotlight can shine where it belongs – on God, not on us. In the long run it won’t matter as much that your child gets to be the victorious chest-thumping athlete on national TV as much as it will matter that he can stand in humble honesty before the Lord his God. Teach him that. A 4.0 average for your valedictorian daughter won’t do her as much good in life as will an easy and open relationship with the God who will love her without keeping score. Teach her that. If we are going to model anything as parents, as Christians, let’s model honest humility before God, as best as we sinners can.