Perfect

Perfect.

This little word has come up quite frequently lately. When I first heard its meaning questioned, in our Father Provincial's homily at Deacon Tom's final profession of vows, I quickly ran through what I knew of various languages, searching for its etymological derivation. I soon arrived at the Latin composition of "per", a preposition meaning "through" and "factus", the past participle of the verb whose infinitive is "facere," meaning to "make" or "do". There is actually the composite verb in Latin: "perficere," which incurs a conversion of the stem vowel in by virtue of the prefix, and a further stem vowel change upon conjugation to the past participle, which is "perfectus." So, perfect literally means "to be made through" or describes something that is "made through" or "complete" (which literally means "with fullness"). Can you tell I am enjoying studying Latin? I was always fascinated by language. Dictionary definitions also frequently describe perfection in the negative sense; rather than state (positively) that something is completely pure in its composition, the definition is that the subject lacks imperfections or defects (the keen reader will notice that "defect" is also composed of the same root word, facere, this time with the addition of the preposition "de", meaning "down" or "away from").

The Gospels tell of Jesus' exhortation to "be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." There is so much pressure in the modern world to strive for perfection, not to miss a beat, to be all that you can be. Recent turns of events have brought me close to the lives of several artists, whose career paths demand this acute attention to detail and brutal concentration on every element of preparation for their formal performances on their various stages, as well as their informal performances of living each day. In my own field of computer programming, every character (symbol) in the source code of an application or script counts - if even one is out of place, catastrophic effects result. The Evangelical Counsels of the church (poverty, chastity, and obedience) are taken as vows upon entering religious life formally (I have not made these formally, though, as seminarians, we do live them, according to the example of our vowed brothers and formal study). In the Oblate formula of profession, the term "perfect" is applied to the Counsels, and so it is with great importance that we consider the reality and consequences of perfection.

Philosophically, we understand the Gospel message of "perfect as God is perfect" to be an analogy. It does not mean that we should take on God's perfection in its entirety. It means that God is the standard of perfection which we take as our example. God's ultimate simplicity leaves no room for imperfection in him; by becoming more like him, we approach his simplicity and become free of imperfections. However, we cannot become God. While we may participate in His perfection, we cannot attain it in full because we are finite beings and He is infinite. Theologically, the instrument of this participation becomes clear. It is grace. Grace is that which God gives to us that imparts an intimate sharing in His divine life (all three persons of the Trinity). It is in this way that we can be perfect "as" (in the same manner as) God, because He has shared a part of Himself, including His perfection, with us by His grace. And we can receive His grace most properly through His sacraments, particularly the Sacraments of Penance and Holy Communion.

So we have seen how rampant a misunderstanding of "perfection" is present in our world, and how the divinely illumined interpretation speaks truth that can be proven and extended to the farthest reaches of our intellect. This sort of discussion is exemplary of my new-found love for philosophy (is that philo-philosophy? or do I simply have "philosophy" - the love of wisdom? alas, Greek is waiting in the wings...).

Amidst the lofty philosophical discourse, however, we are earthly beings, bound by turns to this world and our glimpses of the next. We experience imperfection in everything that we see, for nothing is absolutely simple as God, and yet there is a tremendous harmony in the natural world. All of the changes we perceive in the seasons, the average global temperature, the death of plants and animals and the birth of new ones, the ebb and flow of the tides, all evidence the fundamental imperfection of the created universe (but God did say it is good, not evil, and not indifferent) whilst upholding with great strength the dynamic perfection of it all - that is to say that, though everything in itself is lacking perfection, there is a marvelous cooperation such that the whole experiences less imperfection than all its parts; by God's design, it is all pleasing to Him.

I had a busy, emotional roller-coaster of a week, beginning last weekend with phone calls and letters made and received to and from family and friends that were each mixed bags of joy, sadness, consolation, and desolation. This alternation continued throughout the week with various appointments and meetings and obligations threatening to push me past the bounds of my patience and spirit of determination. I finished the weekend in the kitchen (making flan and frying onion rings with one of my brothers) and enraptured by the rich mezzo-soprano voice of one of the Sunday choir members whose Master's degree recital was this evening. Needless to say, it was quite the week, and by far my most intense week here in Boston with the Oblates of the Virgin Mary.

One usage of "perfect" in contemporary American English is the phrase, "that's perfect," signifying the appropriateness or "fitness" of a phrase or manner of action, such as the choice of colors for the bridesmaids' dresses at a wedding or the choice of music for a particular occasion, or a new title for an event or the name of an organization. I would like to apply this phrase, in like manner, to a series of notes I received from my sister, Sr. Teresa. Late last week, I received a package of three notes from her, wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day, a Happy Birthday, and a Happy Six-Month Anniversary of having entered religious life (yes, I entered on my half-birthday). Not only did my dear sister remember all of these occasions, her brief notes in each of them were so specific and personal and filled with images that were a significant part of my vocation story or that the two of us shared that all I can say is: "that was perfect!"

Love the Immaculata!
Mariam cogita, Mariam invoca