Run the Race of Perfection

My parents were part of the running craze that began during the 1970s. They took it upon themselves to get in shape so that they could compete in a five-mile run in the spring of 1978. My brother and I were in elementary school and didn’t know what to make of this new interest my parents were exploring. But each evening after they got home from work they would take us down to a dirt track that sat along the Hudson River in New York City. We were too young to stay at home so we had to go with them each night, and I recall the way they got us to go was by offering us a challenge. They told my brother and me that if either of us could run a mile in under eight minutes, they would give us a reward of twenty dollars. We had a few weeks to practice before we had our final try at the timed mile. There was a clear goal and a specific reward. There was a way to measure our success - a way to see ourselves at seven and nine years old as “perfect” when it came to running. Neither of us ended up breaking that eight minute barrier, although we did come close, both finishing under nine minutes. Of course in our minds, in the way we saw the world, we had failed, at least as it related to free prize money.

While there was disappointment surrounding the loss of extra allowance, in due time, I came to realize that I was given something much greater by my parents. By their actions and their encouragement each evening around the track, exercise has been an important part of my life. In fact, today I would tell you that it is one of the primary ways that I like to spend time with God. We often think of prayer as something that happens in sacred places like the chapel or by saying a set of perfect words. But for me, running is also prayerful. To me prayer can happen in the rhythm of breath while you exercise or in the silence of the world early in the day or when one enters a time of focused attention. Daily practice so that we are strengthened to offer our best selves in moments that count.

A running race has a clear starting and finishing point. It requires one to race against other competitors and against oneself as measured by the clock that ticks away as one competes on the course. It seems ripe with ways to measure success, accomplishment, or even perfection. And yet, we know that life is not that simple. There must be lots of ways to succeed, be accomplished or even reveal perfection. Otherwise Jesus’ words from today’s reading has set a bar that we are never going to reach. And it’s not that we won’t try. We have amazing capacities as human beings to keep growing and succeeding and achieving.

For example, just two weeks ago inside a park in the city of Vienna, Austria, an elite runner from Kenya, Eliud Kipchoge, who is both the Olympic champion and the world record holder for the marathon distance, recorded the fastest marathon time ever running in just under two hours. This is an amazing feat of human accomplishment—the fastest known time for someone to run this distance. And yet, it will not be officially recognized by an international running federation because it was not an open race and because Eliud was aided by other runners to help set his pace. How might we think about this as a sample of possible human perfection? At the very least, I suspect, even Eliud would acknowledge the support of others which enabled him to be so good on that day.

On a different race course, on a different day, perhaps a different snapshot of possible perfection.

Seth Goldstein was halfway through his high school cross country race in Memphis a few years ago when he noticed one of the runners in front of him drop to the ground awkwardly. Several of the other racers nearby kept on running the course. But Seth went back to the fallen runner who at this point presented with eyes towards the back of his head and blue lips.

As a summer lifeguard, Seth knew signs of distress and so he rolled the boy on his side and shouted for someone to call 911. The runner who had fallen was in danger of choking after biting his tongue. He was also having seizures as he lay there on the ground. Seth waited with the boy until his seizures stopped and help had arrived. People nearby reported what Seth said to the boy in his moment of need. “You’re going to be ok. We’re here. We’re with you. You’re going to be ok.”

Before too long, an ambulance arrived, and the EMT workers took over the care to be given. At that point, Seth looked around and realized that all the other runners were gone but the race was still in front of him. So he started running and eventually finished with a time of thirty-two minutes and some extra seconds. As an important side note, you should know that the runner who fell was eventually fine, having had seizures because of the heat that day. But without the help of Seth and others, it could have been a very different ending.

Two races with very different results. One the epitome of human achievement—peaking towards perfection with the fastest recorded time known. The other, a memorably slow pace, and yet a possible sample of human perfection in the eyes of God. The passage we hear today, gives us a lofty command. Be perfect, as your Heavenly Father is perfect. One that is not really attainable for us as human individuals.

We actually hear this type of faithful aspiration in all of the Abrahamic traditions - that in our relationship with God we must seek to live perfectly. Perhaps not in the way we are often encouraged to measure perfection in our culture, but in the sense of honoring God by trying to reveal our best self in any given moment. With humility when we are showered with praise and success and with hope, when we are struggling to feel any sense of pride in our efforts or see any light in the day ahead. But above all, perfection might be best offered in the recognition that we can’t be close to perfect without the support of others.

There is a verse from the wisdom writings in the Hebrew scriptures which reads: “The race is not always to the swift, but to those who keep on running.” All of us have times where we want success or the easy and quick solution. It’s hard not to be to right, and it’s hard to muddle through with peaks of understandings and valleys of confusion. That’s true with homework, it’s true with relationships, it’s true with our abilities and it’s true with who we are becoming. But this morning I want to suggest that sometimes it is in the long stretch of time, even during the hardest setbacks, that we come to know more about ourselves and really appreciate the support of others. And when we come to see that in ourselves, we can also come to see it in others, allowing us to become a source of perfection for others in God’s world.

In my experience, when I choose well, it’s because I am able to trust that I have something to offer others with God’s help. And when I choose poorly, it’s often because I let myself be measured by what the world promises to show me so I can feel popular, important, or praiseworthy. This desire is really hard to navigate, particularly if you seek perfection.

A more contemporary translation of today’s passage from Matthew’s Gospel, as presented in The Message, highlights the relevance of perfection as it relates to how we treat one another. In essence, that perfection is visible when we live generously and graciously towards others—the way God lives towards us.

If this is so, then perhaps we are better served in thinking about Jesus’ instructions like this. Whatever it is, do your best. Take pride in your effort. Give it all you have. But then rest in your labor and trust that it is enough. And celebrate what it is for that moment. Because the gift of this life is that we get to keep trying, and each time we do, God blesses us to share our best selves.

So as you keep moving through this fall, don’t be discouraged when a setback leaves you on this side of perfection. Instead, take a longer, more generous view of what perfection might look like and trust that there is something new ahead that will help you build upon this moment. We are part of a longer race where we are invited to see the goodness of God in ourselves and others one moment at a time.