The Art of Failure
Good afternoon church. Happy Mother’s Day. Generally speaking, I don’t like to telegraph my main point by stating it out front, but there are so many topics today and Dr. Cone already gave it away, so I want to make sure we are all the same mind and don’t confuse my message today.
What we are here to talk about is failure.
And my argument to you is that failure is scary, but failure is also good for us. It is not only good for us, but it is necessary that we experience it in our life, because it moves us to grow. And finally, failure is not only good for us and not only necessary in our lives, but it is beautiful, and should be celebrated for its beauty.
If you don’t mind me saying so I have a very real experience of failure this morning. I checked my email to discover that nobody else on staff today knew what was happening today, nobody got my order of service.
Now I can tell you all my good reasons for failing, and why I should be forgiven, but that’s not what we’re talking about. This message today isn’t about how can I explain away my mistakes, or how can I avoid accountability. It’s not about how can I come off looking good, or how can I avoid blame. No, it’s about the art of failure.
And I don’t mind telling you today that I feel these words in particular because it is Mother’s Day I have deep wounds and memories from failing at mothers day. And what child, daughter or son, husband or partner or wife or father, hasn’t felt the experience of failure on Mother’s Day?
I speak for myself when I say I second-guess myself all the way up until the day, and then no matter how I celebrate the wonderful motherers in my life, because anyone can mother, this day is often flattened into a celebration of females and female parenting, but we do well to remember today that we all can mother and that we have been mothered by people of all genders and persuasions - I try to celebrate the motherers in my life and I determine my efforts to be unworthy all by myself. I see my gestures as small and meaningless compared to the depth and breadth of meaning my mother and the mother of my children bring to my life. All around me I see missed opportunities to honor motherers who do not get enough recognition or appreciation.
For those who celebrate Mother’s Day today, I wish you a happy Mother’s Day, and if you didn’t do enough, I forgive you for not doing enough.. For those who do not celebrate or who today go uncelebrated, may you find peace in affirmation. Because not everyone celebrates Mother’s Day.
For some, becoming a mother is neither a choice nor joyful. For others this day is a sad reminder of what will never come to pass. Some long to be mothers and can’t, while others mourn the children taken away too soon. Mother’s Day more than any other celebration, even Father’s Day, holds a great tension in our world. We all come from a mother, whether we know her or not, like her or not. For some, Mother’s Day is a chance to acknowledge a woman rarely present, when the ever-present often female caretaker, perhaps with children of her own at home, is often neglected and overlooked.
We can find this tension also in the discrepancy between the definition of a mother and the role that she is expected to play in the family, and society. A mother simply bears children, this is what it means to be a mother in definition alone - the role of mother, however, is deep and broad in our culture. The mother role is, frankly, perfection. She must be, in the words of St. Paul, all things to all people.
I encourage all of us to consider this definition of mothering, and without laying accusation or blame on the women in our life overburdened with these responsibilities, I argue that a good many people still long to the maternal care we either received when we were young, or that we didn’t receive. The attention and compassion that we give to children, regardless of our gender or theirs, is an expression of maternal love. We cannot all be mothers, but we can all mother. And we all need maternal loving care.
I have in my mind today:
A mother who recently lost her mother
A woman who recently learned she will never be a mother
A mother who will not be getting her own life back, and a daughter who mourns this loss with her
A daughter who cares for a mother who offers little support or recognition or gratitude in response.
A mother who longs to speak to her two sons
A child who never knew her mother, and a mother child who wished she didn’t know her mother.
I have on my mind a mother who is trying desperately to raise children as she was raised, as if the world hadn’t changed in 30 years. And another who is trying desperately not to become her own mother, breaking generational patterns of emotional neglect.
We need each other church, mothers or not. In my tradition, the church is our spiritual mother - maternal care is owed to each member of a church, given by the community. We need each other now more than ever.
I can only speak for myself when I say that I try so hard to be perfect. To get it right. I don’t want to miss an opportunity, I don’t want to be ineffective. It’s not for recognition from others, it feels like my biological imperative to make the best of every moment, to do what is needed of me.
Mothers are expected to be heroes, and a great many women live up to that expectation and perform incredible work. The hero finds herself receiving higher and higher expectations as time goes on. The burden can be so much to bear.
In the Disney movie Encanto set in a fictional Colombia, South America, Luisa is a woman gifted with superhuman strength. She uses this incredible physical power to help the whole town with various tasks, matching her strength with incredible poise and great virtuosity. In one scene she restores a church wall to proper alignment with the shake of her hip; in another, she is tossing grown donkeys over her shoulders. Although she sings about her feelings to her little sister and not a daughter, I can’t help but hear the voice of a mother expected by the world to be superhuman. The lyrics are as follows:
I'm the strong one, I'm not nervous, I'm as tough as the crust of the Earth is
I move mountains, I move churches
And I glow, 'cause I know what my worth is
I don't ask how hard the work is
But under the surface, I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus
Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service
Who am I if I can't carry it all?
Under the surface, I hide my nerves and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us.
Under the surface, I think about my purpose, can I somehow preserve this?
But wait, if I could shake the crushing weight of expectations
Would that free some room up for joy or relaxation, or simple pleasure?
Instead, we measure this growing pressure
Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks, no mistakes
Just pressure.”
Luisa describes the experience of being overwhelmed by expectations.
Church tell me you have never felt that way. Tell me if you honestly can that you have never felt overburdened by the expectations put upon you, like you were just gonna pop. If the weight of what other people thought you needed to do was a crushing weight, tell me, church, because I know you have. Tell me, have you ever felt pushed so hard that you bent and buckled but didn’t break, church?
Mothers, I know you have. Because I know the expectations upon you as a mother are impossible. They cannot be accomplished by a single human being, in fact, even with the help of a community it seems mothering is still really really hard.
Tell me you have never felt that the world required a hero, but you were just a person, and how are you supposed to succeed when the only option available to you seems to be failure?
Well, the problem is not us, or those who seem to be asking too much from us. The problem is that our world gives us such a small definition of success, and such a vivid shame response to failure. Why is that? What is the reason we seem to lust so hard after success?
That’s a legitimate question, I’m not going to offer up a pretend answer. Because time and time again, I find ultimate success in my failures. I get proven wrong time and time again, when i try not so hard to be perfect, and try instead to be myself, to be honest, to be real. When I say I’m sorry, I hear people tell me, “That’s ok.” Don’t worry about it.” or my favorite, “say less.” When I miss the mark and have to walk back my efforts, I often find that I didn’t understand the first time anyway. When I slip and fall and get muddy, haha I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it is pretty funny to see. When I lash out in strong feelings at those closest to me, and cause harm I don’t intend, yes, that is a failure, and it’s not meant to be explained away. But only when we see failure, admit its presence in our lives, and allow it to shape us, can we reap the benefit of its fruit.
Failure means making choices, and not being afraid to be “not perfect.” This morning church, this very morning in front of me while I was waiting in line to get coffee was a woman wearing a handbag that said, “I am giving up the need to be perfect today” - whew that got me! Church what if we gave up the need to be perfect? What if we admit to each other and ourselves that it is really difficult and unsettling to live alone? What if we stopped holding those around us accountable for an invisible perfection? What if we stopped wishing things we go back to the way they were, and admitted that things weren’t that great then either, we are just scared to be here, now? What if we simply admit we are afraid to admit we failed?
Ultimate Sucess doesn’t look like never tripping and falling. It looks like laughing at yourself for it. Ultimate success doesn’t look like happy confidence - it looks like the wiping of tears, the sharing of bread, and stooping down low to touch someone. Success doesn’t look like winning, defeating losers, or being safe while others are vulnerable. It looks like Joy.
And now I am speaking directly to you church, whether you have enough to get by or not, whether you are scraping by and don’t want to tell us, that’s ok, we’re here for you either way, whether you are here in this space or out there in the world, whether you are bedridden and trapped by your failing health, or your fears of change, which are valid, or whether you are struggling with the daily activities of healthy living because it’s just that hard right now, Spirit sees you and knows that's true, whether you are angry at the past for leaving you, or sad because all you loved is now gone, whether you are lifted by the presence of friends or strangers, or whether you are truly exhausted and overwhelmed by how bad it is in the world - it doesn’t matter who you are and where you're from, whether the talk of Jesus is for you or not, either way, ultimate success is gonna require some talk of failure.
And failure is beautiful - this truth can only be seen when you give up on perfection. Realness is gorgeous - people glow when they are true. You may remember me talking about Joy and saying Joy isn’t a reflex - it’s divine intervention. Joy shows up by accident, and it is often not perfect. Joy overflows, Joy overreacts, Joy explodes - and yet is not destroyed. Joy is contagious - but not always obvious. Sometimes, we feel joy we can’t say, or sometimes Joy looks like anger or sadness. But we miss the mark when we say that the Joy is ours, that earned it, and that we are joyful because we deserve it.
No, ultimate success is not obvious. The parable of the starfish thrower comes immediately to mind, as the story goes, a passerby notices thousands of beached starfish, and a single individual throwing them back. When pressed, the starfish thrower said, “Of course, I know I cannot save them all. But I can save these,” and the thrower bent down and picked up another starfish.
I’m sure you can conjure similar images of hope in times of despair. Joy in times of pain and grief. Ultimate success in times of obvious failure. But if we miss the beauty in realness and connection, if we miss the loveliness that comes from mistakes, then we are still sleeping, and we are not awake to the art of failure. The art of failure is beautiful all by itself. And if we must fail, let us fail joyfully. For this Joy we have, the world didn’t give it, the world can’t take it away.
