Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

O’Brien: To Err Is Only Human

Every Wednesday evening, I join a group of seniors for dinner and conversation about life before, during and after Georgetown. Senior year, with all of its transitions, is a natural time for such deep, reflective conversations. Thus far, our topics have ranged from faith to dating, from regrets to family.

Most recently, we talked about perfectionism, a common tendency on our campus. I can relate: I’m a perfectionist. But as I get older, I’m trying to uproot that corrosive drive. For me, it’s not simply a character defect, it’s a sin. As Christians begin the season of Lent, a time of spiritual house-cleaning and religious recommitment, I offer some thoughts on the sin of perfectionism.

God has a plan for us, individually and communally. God wants us to thrive as human beings and to experience abiding peace and joy amid the ups and downs of life. But sin undermines this divine plan. Sin turns us inward and excludes others. It is the opposite of love. If love shares, sin hoards. If love unites, sin divides. If love forgives, sin resents. If love embraces the truth of who we are, sin seduces with self-delusion. If love directs us to what’s most important, sin distracts.

Perfectionism is fueled by the belief that we cannot be loved or accepted unless we do something perfectly. Our culture instills this belief in us in countless ways. The almost unbelievable truth about God’s love is that it is unconditional, unmerited and freely given.

The insidious lie that causes perfectionism is that we can be perfect, which as human beings we simply cannot be. We are the created, not the Creator. Thus, we enjoy some natural limitations. We cannot do everything; we cannot be all things to all people; we cannot be good at everything; we cannot please everyone. Seduced by the lie that we can do and be all those things, we act in ways that hurt ourselves and others, and by doing so, we choose to hurt God. Enter sin.

This caution against perfectionism is not an invitation to become a slacker. We should work hard, cultivate our talents and abilities and use our gifts in service of the world. We do these things not to earn love or attention, but to show our gratitude for the gifts God gives us. Grateful people naturally want to give back what they have been freely given. We want to do well, not out of duty, but because it’s the right thing to do.

Jesuits speak of the magis, a Latin term meaning “more” or “better.” It comes from the motto of the Jesuits: All we do is for the greater glory of God. Note that the magis does not mean the “most” or the “best.” It is not an invitation for perfectionism, but for magnanimity, or greatness of soul. Inspired by the magis, we strive to do the best we can in all parts of our lives. We are generous enough to give it our best. We are realistic enough to understand that sometimes we fail in the pursuit of a noble cause. We are humble enough to admit that sometimes we sin and get it wrong. And we are grateful enough to receive forgiveness from God and others, only to then offer that same forgiveness to the other imperfect people in our lives.

In our Wednesday-night conversations the seniors voiced different experiences with perfectionism on the Hilltop. Some found that they are less perfectionist now than they were in high school. The complex realities and ambiguities of adult life have made them more accepting of themselves and others. A few of the seniors thought that Georgetown augmented their perfectionist tendencies. The competition for grades, for esteem or popularity and, now, for employment is intense here.

But all of us aspired to better acknowledge the messiness of human living, to learn from our failings and to move on with hope. We all agreed that imperfect people are better company to be around. They are so much more compassionate and understanding of others’ limitations than the seemingly perfect are.

Near the end of Lent, we will enjoy another rite of spring: opening day of baseball season. This great American pastime — with its runs, hits and errors over nine innings — can inspire us as we embrace both our greatness and imperfection. Former Commissioner of Baseball Fay Vincent once wrote, “I find it fascinating that baseball, alone in sport, considers errors to be part of the game, part of its rigorous truth.” I invite you to join me over the 40 days of Lent to embrace the rigorous truth of human life: to be a little less perfect and thus a little more gentle and happy.

Fr. O’Brien, S.J., is the vice president of mission and ministry. Fr. O’Brien, Fr. Maher and Fr. Schall alternate as the writers of As This Jesuit Sees It … , which appears every other Friday.

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