The Paradox of Perfection: When the Polish Hides the Purpose

"The Lion and the Lamb" by Shilu Ani

Perfection. That's a good thing, a good virtue to pursue, but also an intimidating one. Plan. Revise. Rework. And do it all over again all in the quest for perfection. It is good, because it adds to the quality, raises the worth, sharpens the experience. Nevertheless, it is intimidating because it bestows on one the pressure of a high standard, one that at times can be burdensome. But whatever be the case, perhaps a more underlying issue has to do with the motivation for pursuing perfection. Not all pursuits are bad; but not all pursuits are noble.

While not every pursuit of perfection need be worrying, there is one area where the obsession for perfection can become deadly and counterintuitive. Imagine sitting in a worship service: sacred, solemn, very well organized and meticulously curated. The right words spoken. Right on cue, each component of the service unfolds. A flawless and seamless hour of worship. This is quite an experience, one that is perfect and perhaps too perfect. Perhaps such perfection leaves on us quite an impression, but fails to impress in our hearts a deep spiritual connection. Perfection that shields us from what we must be able to feel at such sacred and solemn moments: convictions. This is not to mean that we should be satisfied with sloppiness and mediocrity. But when our obsession with perfection is not deeply grounded in convictions but rather on highlighting the show, then we run the danger of providing an experience that is only rooted in the moment with no lasting impact.

I like to watch movies that show soldiers engaging in a battle. The action sequences are very well-organized. The stunts are very well coordinated. The movements are highly synchronized. Very neatly and tightly packed. Perfection. Then I see the movements of real soldiers engaged in real war on the news channel. Not as glamorous as their counterparts in the movies. Sometimes, their movements are clumsy; their fatigues dusty and faded; critical mistakes, not bloopers, are made; no chance for take two or a reshoot. But somehow, if I am not careful the soldiers on the big screen seems to command more respect from me than the real soldiers striving on in the real world. Why? Because somehow the former is more perfect; the packaging is shinier, more glamorous.

One emphasis in the business of sales seems to be on the making the packaging appealing and perhaps alluring. But aren't we in for a disappointment when the packaging outshines the content? Or maybe we are too blinded to see that, in which case we are the unfortunate ones.

How then do we respond? Pursue perfection, it is not wrong. For instance, the gymnast trying to perfect her routine, the bladesmith trying to perfect his skill, the artist trying to perfect her colours, the photographer trying to perfect catching the moment. There are noble pursuits. They serve not to just better the person, but through the person share with others a moment of beauty achieved through the process of mastery. It is not just for show, but it a symbolic representation and communication of the perseverance invested in such pursuits. These expressions are weighty and heavy compared to the cheap thrill of shiny appearances. Returning to the context of the worship service, when perfection becomes an end in itself rather than a means to a greater good, then such obsession can turn deadly. When saying the right words, crafting witty punchlines become more important than communicating deep truth that convicts and convinces, when the show overshadows the impact, then we are made all the poorer feeding on cheap momentary snacks rather than a hearty meal that offers long lasting nourishment.