Do I have an idea of the perfect? I’m not sure, though neat circles and triangles whir in the mind. For example, what would a perfect act of charity look like? Let’s take a classic: helping an old lady cross the street. It’s the sort of thing good men (or younger people more generally) are supposed to do. There is, of course, an immediate problem. The phrase “old lady” indicates the existence death and more immediately senescence. Consequently, our example—crossing the street—holds special meaning. A simple principle follows from this observation: charity requires imperfection. Still, one is attempting to fix something, and so one must have an idea (however vague) of something better: “the way things should be.”
The charitable act would (at least or perhaps precisely) be divided in three: introduction, execution, departure. So: one would need to intrude (“Might I help you cross the street?”), accomplish the mission (help the old lady cross the street), and finally leave: “Have a nice day, ma’am.” (This pattern is, at its most basic, the story of the Gospels. Jesus intrudes (incarnation), completes the mission (crucifixion), and departs (ascension). If you say that Jesus’ story is perfect—or a perfect act of charity was accomplished—you’re a Christian). Now, each of these moments could go well or poorly—but could they go perfectly? I find it impossible to imagine myself achieving perfection. In fact, the attempt to imagine perfection makes me doubt its existence.
Take the first phase. If one is too bold, the word I have chosen (“intrude”) takes on an especially negative connotation. If too obsequious, the introduction would feel false. Also (and relatedly), there’s the possibility of being too cold. The subtext—by which I mean something like “true intentions”—would somehow (embarrassingly) be made apparent: “It’s my duty, but I’d rather dash across the street without holding your—’some old lady’s’—arm.” (Deontology feels like a task). To make the act pleasurable, I think, would involve something like utility. An example: “Old ladies are repositories of cultural wisdom and so should be protected/revered/etc.)” So on the one hand one feels something like duty, but on the other one hopes for something like pleasure, pleasure in having done not just the right thing (here conceived as law) but also a useful thing. One, in other words, hopes to pat oneself on the back a bit—just a bit.
But how to get it right? I can imagine it going well—very, very well—but I’m not sure I can imagine it going perfectly. When I close my eyes and work through the moments something is always off—but, then again, how do I know it’s off? In fact, when I really try to imagine perfection I find myself viewing something very strange—almost robotic. Perhaps, in the end, “true” perfection only comes when one stops trying, when one “gives up”—that’s it (or is it)?
Part of the issue here might be that two individuals are involved, so each phase has a double potential for failure. (There are, for example, both polite and impolite ways to offer assistance as well as accept or reject it). My point, however, is basic: whatever I do—or imagine—I can’t quite find the perfect. Still, I have the nagging sense that it might exist. Does it? Does It? Circles and triangles whir.
