Undoctrinating: Perfection

We all have standards, right? In a post of random thoughts, I mentioned my new favorite standard: Just do your best.

I’m not here to tell you what anybody’s standards should be. But I do want to take a look at what the evangelical Christian professed standard is: perfection. I made reference in that post to how difficult it is to operate with perfection as the standard. It hit me shortly after writing it how perfectionism, at least my understanding of it, is rooted in a belief in a perfect God.

Look how the concept of salvation is taught:

• God is perfect holy and cannot tolerate imperfection

• All humans have sinned and thus fall short of imperfection

• The penalty for sin is death or separation from God

• This division between God and man combined with the love God has for man necessitates a mediation to bridge that gap

• God Himself forms that mediation by taking on a human identity and absorbing the penalty unto His own human form

So when you embrace that narrative, however your own personal or denominational telling of it might vary, you can understand how perfection isn’t just a lofty goal, it’s the standard. It’s both the maximum possible outcome and the bare minimum accepted outcome. You can probably also understand how living with the conflicting realities of human imperfection and divine perfectionism can make Christian living a bit challenging (feel free to say that out loud fast and leave out the “allenging” part.

A quick detour to accommodate those who hold that a) perfectionism has roots distinct from religion and b) moral perfectionism is totally doable. I decided to do some quick research (read: Google and look no further than the first Wikipedia article I found) on the origins of perfectionism. I read a little bit about Stanley Cavell and his theory of moral perfectionism and its roots in the teachings of Aristotle and friends about the good life toward which one ought to strive.

Deep breath.

There’s a purpose, I’m sure, to the pursuits of philosophy and the development of a systematized personal ethic. But reading this stuff, I can’t help but notice most of it doesn’t pass the rigorous philosophical test taught to me by the council of elders who mentored me through my earliest training as a writer: the giggle test. Yes, when reading any passage, an irrepressible giggle (when the author intended no such reaction) is an infallible red flag for any text, an infraction that demands editing both swift and merciless. I’m sorry, Stanley and Aristotle, but some of this shit has to go. To the chopping block!

Another aside to this detour: moral philosophy in general tends to fall prey to a giant pitfall that threatens to ensnare us all: gross self-importance. The reason I’m totally okay with stopping at Just do your best and losing the energy to finish Michael Schur’s How to be Perfect: The Correct Answer to Every Moral Question. The whole thing feels more like a self-aggrandizing rhetorical rabbit trail than a helpful journey of any kind. I’m possibly a bit sensitive about taking such a turn because it’s what I fear I risk turning this publication into.

Living our best lives is worthwhile, but moral perfection doesn’t exist. It doesn’t even pass the giggle test. Or the yawn test. Or the eyeroll test.

My theory is this: the idea that humankind is important and authoritative enough to exact a perfect method for living is a flaw in itself, so any attempt to develop the perfect plan (let alone live it out) becomes an overinflated failure at the outset.

Okay, let’s get back on track, here. My concern is this: when perfection is the standard or even the goal, the effects on the human psyche are profound. It’s damn near impossible to look on our imperfections with grace. I feel this all the time.

I look back on things I did yesterday and feel overwhelming pangs of regret, shame, and loathing—and I’m not even talking about major screw-ups. I’m talking about things I created, worked hard on, tried my best on, and suffered through that didn’t yield the miraculous results I was hoping for. They come to mind, and I’m facepalming in disgust. Why? Because I see the imperfections above all else.

Maybe that whole, Well, you’re not perfect, so you deserve to burn in hell, thing isn’t something you can just shake off.

I think about the people in my life who are the most insecure and realize they’re also some of the most talented, intelligent people I know. This is a tragedy.

Doing your best is a tall order. Honestly, I find that functionally impossible. Perfection is a goal we might be able to achieve in brief instances or sustain for certain moments, but it is decidedly inhuman as a standard of living.

So I’m curious . . . how do you think perfectionism shows up in your life in less than ideal ways?