good and faithful servant?

“Be ye perfect, even as your Father who is in heaven is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48 KJV)

That’s a tall order!  It seems like saying I must be a world-class marathon runner, nothing less.  If you don’t think you can make 26 miles in two hours, don’t bother to try at all — an excuse for not going on that walk, even though I know the exercise would do me good.

Is that what perfect means?  Quakers don’t seem to talk much nowadays about the idea of human perfection which was preached by the early Friends.  Have we given up?  Friends were fiercely criticized for the idea in those days, more because they seemed to be claiming equality with God rather than because they were urging people to do the impossible.

I think, though, that the idea is more like saying I should go for that walk, even just around the block if that’s all I can manage, even though I know I’ll never run a marathon.

In his famous 1678 Apology, Robert Barclay uses the parable of the talents to discuss perfection (Matthew 25:14-30).  That’s never been one of my favorites, but I’ve been taking a new look at it.  Barclay points out that the servant who increased two talents to four was praised as much as the one who increased five to ten.  He doesn’t mention, though, that the boss gave increased responsibilities to both of them.  Perhaps after walking around the block once a day for a few weeks, I might be ready to try walking around two blocks?

Friends sometimes use the example of a growing child.  What is a perfect three-year-old?  Would she be able to count up to ten? to a hundred, if she’s really smart?  Would we expect her to do calculus?  The goals for each child should be adapted to the individual child’s age and abilities.  Perhaps I’m a perfect athlete if I walk as far as I’m reasonably able, one block or two; the 26-mile run is out of the picture.

That kind of example used to satisfy me, but as I approach seventy, these questions are taking on a sharper edge.  I am aware that my mind and body are no longer capable of some things I used to do easily.  Unlike the servants in the parable, I’m looking at decreased responsibilities and expectations.  It’s still an individual matter.  Arthritis keeps me from walking more than absolutely necessary, even though I know older people who walk several miles a day.  On the other hand, I can still read Latin (with dictionary and grammar book at hand).  I’m not as good at it as I was in high school, but it’s still useful in my translation work (right now we’re working on that Apology, which Barclay originally wrote in Latin).

I need to keep reminding myself to measure my goals and standards against what I’m capable of now, not what others do, not what I used to do,.  I have to let go of many pleasures and challenges, and there’s grief work to do about that.  I’m trying to learn to be a perfect old lady. 

And sometimes I hear the Friend of Friends cheering me on, “Well done, good and faithful and perfect servant! — keep reaching for the stars!”