The (impossible) quest for the perfect

The (impossible) quest for the perfect

The quest for perfection is common in humanity. Consider the new homeowners who want everything in their dwelling to be perfect. Or the cook aspiring to a faultless dish. Or the thesis writer who wants to be error-free at submission. Or the person seeking a perfect spouse. Or the gym member seeking perfect pecs. Or the speaker seeking a perfect presentation. The examples can be multiplied.

The aspiration to do things well is praiseworthy. They rightly say: if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.

Consider the alternate. As an old saying goes, the person who aims at nothing will achieve it every time. Lowered expectations may avoid disappointment, but they also lead to lowered results. A life with low or no aspirations is a wasted life. We can easily see that it’s better to aim high than low.

However, the quest for perfection is different to aspiring to do well. Perfection may be impossible to achieve and sustain. And that can make it dangerous.

Is perfection attainable?

It sometimes may be so, with enough care in planning, checking, rechecking and execution. More commonly, flaws emerge. Seven people put a bulletin through six levels of review over three days during pre-publication. On the day when it was used, mistakes were clear to all. A graduation programme for a theological college was rechecked several times only for the principal’s name to morph from “Ian” to the blasphemously aspirational “I Am”. A version of the Bible was printed with the word ‘not’ missing from the commandment against adultery. As for the perfect house, the floorcovering chosen for looks and durability proved to a be a marvellous dust trap on which every mark was visible. The search for the perfect spouse may well end in singleness. The perfect pecs may well be accompanied by an ounce of unwanted fat somewhere else.

Is perfection sustainable? That is even more tricky. The perfect food dish will decay if left on the bench and will disappear once hungry diners attack it. The perfect house will become imperfect once real people move in and scratches, scuffs and messiness surface. The perfect spouse will show their flaws as pressure hits and time passes. The perfect pecs will fade if gym is missed for a day or two. Really, perfection can only be sustained by some process of freeze-fossilisation which makes the object or person unreal and useable.

The question for perfection can be dangerous. The thesis may never be submitted, the house never built, and the dish never cooked if perfection is the criteria. The result is frustrated aspiration.

Further, there is the question of proportionality. The effort needed to achieve perfection may be out of proportion to the value of the result. Consider the parent striving for a perfect family meal and who spends hours on a dish that is rejected by children or gulped down in 10 minutes with complaints that the meal is late. Was the effort was worth it, or should they have just done a scratch meal? Meanwhile, the children may have craved time to be still and share with the parent or to get help with schoolwork. The question for perfection may mean that we miss the really important. Is the value of the (temporarily) perfect worth the cost?

Doing something well may more often be a case of ‘good enough’ rather than perfection. That means being of sufficient quality to what is needed and with a level of effort fitting to the level of importance. ‘Good enough’ is not an excuse for slackness, but is an exercise in scaling.

Deeper things are at stake here.

Some schools of visual art include an intentional imperfection in every artwork. Its purpose is to remind the artist and viewer that perfection is only found with God. To strive for perfection in the here and now is not only unlikely and unsustainable but can be a distraction from the quest for eternity. Our unsatisfiable longing for perfection in this life should lift our aspirations to eternity with God. Only in him is there only, and always, perfection.