“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect” (Mt 5:48). This sentence may be the most vexing in all of scripture.<\/p>\n
Yet many Christians – especially those in the Wesleyan tradition – consider Jesus’ words crucial for spiritual formation. John Wesley formed his theology of Christian perfection around them. Ever since, folks even as famous as Reinhold Niebuhr have chided Wesleyans for being fanatical about perfection.[1]<\/a><\/p>\n The possibility of fulfilling Jesus’ command seems unrealistic to many people. When I talk to audiences about perfection, I often ask, “Would every perfect person raise a hand?” After an awkward moment or two, a jokester typically shoots his arm upward, hoping to get a laugh from the crowd.<\/p>\n The command Jesus gives to be perfect parallels the Old and New Testament command to be holy. Wesley highlighted this parallel in his preaching ministry. In his New Testament writings, Peter draws from Leviticus when he talks about imitating God’s holiness. The passage reads, “I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44; 1 Pt. 1:16). For many people, perfection and holiness are synonymous.<\/p>\n Wesleyans aren’t the only Christians concerned with perfection, of course. A rich Roman Catholic tradition offers resources for thinking about the issue. And Christians in the Orthodox tradition are quite interested in what it means to be perfect. Other Christian traditions are less helpful when it comes to understanding perfection. John Calvin’s Deceptive View of Perfection<\/strong><\/p>\n Some in the Christian tradition believe we can call ourselves perfect when in fact we are not. God sees us as perfect, they say, because God looks at us through the lens of Jesus. In actuality, however, we remain imperfect.<\/p>\n Classically trained theologians like to use the technical word “impute” to talk about this view. John Calvin’s Institutes<\/em> illustrate what theologians mean when they speak of imputation and perfection:<\/p>\n “A man is righteous not in himself, but because the righteousness of Christ is communicated to him by imputation…”<\/p>\n “We are accounted righteous only because [Christ’s] obedience is accepted for us as if it were our own…”<\/p>\n “[If] we may appear before the face of God to salvation, it is necessary for us to be perfumed with [Christ’s] fragrance, and to have all our deformities concealed and absorbed in his perfection.”[2]<\/a><\/p>\n Calvin’s claim that we must be “perfumed with Christ’s fragrance” helps us understand the problem with imputation. He rightfully thinks that as sinners, we stink! In fact, the stench of our sin can be nauseating. <\/p>\n His view of imputation doesn’t free us of our stench. Instead, Christ’s strong and sweet aroma covers over – masks – our persistent odor. Christ’s fragrance overpowers God’s nostrils so that God fails to realize that we reek.<\/p>\n Instead of believing that God must be deceived, others have interpreted Jesus’ command to be perfect as merely him setting a goal. We should strive for perfection, but we also know we cannot attain it. God sets an unreachable bar to motivate us.<\/p>\n One advocate of this paradox put it this way: “Our goal is to think and act the same way Jesus lived (perfectly), but we will be sinners until our last breath. The standard is perfection, but we will always be profoundly flawed.”<\/p>\n This explanation of Jesus’ call to be perfect is also unsatisfying. When I hear it, I picture greyhounds chasing the unattainable plastic rabbit around a racetrack.<\/p>\n This way of thinking about perfection presents Jesus as inherently unloving. What kind of person would demand something that he knows we cannot ever do – especially knowing that failing to do the impossible results in sickness, destruction and death? The God who calls us to be perfect, all the while knowing we never can, is a tyrant. This explanation of the call to be perfect portrays Jesus as cruel and conniving.<\/p>\n Aristotle and Perfection<\/strong><\/p>\n A more helpful explanation of the call to be perfect comes from the great mind of Aristotle. He believed something could be perfect if it acted in accord with its purpose. A perfect object is not without some flaws. But it can be perfect if used in the manner for which it was created.<\/p>\n My undergraduate professor of philosophy and later colleague, Ed Crawford, prefers Aristotle when pondering perfection. Aristotle argues that perfection involves being in the process of moving from potential to actual. The perfect acorn naturally moves toward being an oak tree, because acorns were designed to become oak trees.<\/p>\n Humans also move naturally from potential to actual. When they are moving in the correct direction, they become more like what they were designed to be: Christ-like. Perfection, then, entails becoming conformed to the image of Jesus (Rm. 8:29).<\/p>\n This way of understanding perfection is helpful. But it leaves a huge<\/em> question unanswered: What does it mean to be Christ-like?<\/p>\n Christlikeness?<\/strong><\/p>\n Does Christ-likeness mean speaking Aramaic? Are we becoming perfect like Jesus when we wear robes, tunics, and sandals? Is the essence of perfection having twelve disciples, eating a diet mainly of fish and bread, and lecturing religious authorities?<\/p>\n In our attempt to figure out what it means to be perfect, we may forget that Jesus presents God as the example of what our perfection ought to be. Jesus tells his listeners to be perfect as <\/em>their heavenly Father is perfect.<\/p>\n Amazingly, a central aspect of spiritual formation is becoming like God!<\/p>\n Before we begin worrying about the omnipotence problems of Bruce Almighty or the omniscience problems inherent in knowing every past sin of our kids, spouses, or parents, we should look at the context of Jesus’ command to be perfect. Jesus and Perfection<\/strong><\/p>\n The call comes at the conclusion of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Read Jesus’ words preceding it:<\/p>\n You have heard it said, ‘You should love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children to your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and good, and sends rains on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect<\/em> (Mt. 5:43-48).<\/p>\n The context of Jesus’ command suggests that love – not perfect power or knowledge – is what it means to be perfect as God is perfect. God loves everyone. God loves even those who do not return love. We ought to imitate God in this. We ought to love our enemies, for even God loves those who declare themselves enemies of God.[3]<\/a><\/p>\n Luke’s memory of the sermon Jesus preached is different from Matthew’s memory. While Matthew remembers Jesus concluding by saying “be perfect,” Luke remember Jesus concluding with “be compassionate” (Lk. 6:36). This serves as an important clue for deciphering what it means to be perfect.<\/p>\n I think human perfection is possible here and now. That’s a big claim, I know. I’ll need to explain what I mean in a later blog. At present, I must rest content to say that love is the most important clue for understanding how we might be perfect as God is perfect.<\/p>\n [1]<\/a> See Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man: Human Destiny<\/em>, vol. 2 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1943).<\/p>\n
<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\n