Perfectionism in the Church
To pass my driver’s ed exam in high school, I remember being required to memorize all the legal ramifications of drunk driving – how blood alcohol level is measured, what level constitutes impairment, the amount fined for the infringement, length of jail time, penalties to the driving record, etc. In frustration as I struggled to retain these details, I recall thinking, “I’ll never need to know this. Drunk driving creates such a big mess to clean up, it’s easier to just not do it.” And as simple as that, I resolved to never drink and drive.
This is not dissimilar to a moment I experienced as a child when learning about sin for the first time in CCD. As I was taught about the “mess” that sin creates – damage to relationship with God, hurting other people, the possibility of it leading to other sins, the need to refrain from receiving the Eucharist, the requirement to go to Confession, which would also require me to tell my parents about it in order to be taken to Confession – I recall having the distinct thought, “This is way too much. It’s easier to just not sin.” And as simple as that, at the ripe age of 8, I resolved to never sin.
This sounds laughable, but in case you don’t know me, I have an inordinate amount of willpower, a high value for rules, and a strong sense of empathy (and thus an aversion to hurting others). So even as a child, this goal was not terribly far-fetched for me. I actually wanted to be good. I wanted to please the Lord. From the start, I managed to keep 95% of my sins in the “venial” category (to minimize the damage and clean-up required). Fueled further by reminders from Church-world of all the ways we need constant improvement, my perfectionism continued for years on end. I was determined to be holy, whatever the cost. As I grew up and trials came, I stayed committed to perfection by clinging to the behavioral do’s and don’ts of “holiness” and by “offering everything up,” even to the point of stifling my opinions, repressing my emotions, and all that’s required to pull that off – including dissociation and high functioning anxiety.
And somewhere along the way, in this pursuit of perfection, I inadvertently embraced a theology in which God measures our value based on our performance, and good behavior gets rewarded.
At the age now of 39, it's taken a lot of unraveling and healing (both natural and supernatural) to find a more gospel-centric approach to my relationship with the Lord.
I bring this up because I want to talk about perfectionism in the Church.
While my exact experience is not the norm for all Catholics, I do know perfectionism is pervasive in Church culture, and I am not alone in my commitment to holiness, nor in the connections I managed to establish between performance and my sense of value in God’s eyes. Given that the gospel we proclaim declares the contrary of a performance-based theology, I think it’s worth a conversation.
THE DIAGNOSIS
Perfectionism in the Church is often manifested as the desire to please. To earn a particular standing. Whether that standing equates to favor in the eyes of the Lord, favor in the eyes of man, or personal consolation that “I’m doing okay at being a disciple,” the starting point is the notion that I can earn my way into something.
Beneath that, however, is the belief that my value is tied to my performance, which is the true driver of perfectionism. That my identity is inextricably linked to my ability to do well. And ultimately, that the better I do, the more I deserve… [fill in the blank – love, grace, approval, acceptance, blessing, opportunity, favor, answered prayer, etc.]. The closer I am to being perfect, the more worthy I become.
And what this belief creates is a high value for measurement. Self-scrutiny, self-evaluation, and self-improvement become the regimen for bettering my performance, improving my standing, and reinforcing my sense of self-value.
This ripples outward as well. I find that those of us who struggle with perfectionism are apt to hold others to the same standard of perfection to which we hold ourselves. Perfectionism often breeds resentment toward those who are not pursuing the standards of perfection as rigorously as we are. This is the classic “older brother syndrome” from the prodigal son parable – frustration that another is not working as hard as I am to earn something that was already mine to begin with. And that resentment breeds judgment, condemnation, and control, in which we become willing to manipulate (through shame, guilt, fear, etc.) and withhold things (support, connection, endorsement, etc.) unless that person fits the image of holiness that we envision – as an attempt to get them to start earning what we are trying so hard to earn ourselves. And thus a culture of shame and manipulation is born, which reinforces perfectionistic tendencies, and the cycle continues.
At the root of all perfectionism is fear.
Constant self-scrutiny and self-evaluation are a fear response. Fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of losing a relationship, fear of a mess, fear of catastrophe… fear that if we make a mistake, things will fall apart, or at the very least, become extraordinarily difficult. And if we continually seek improvement, we lessen the odds of those risks, and thus buy ourselves some momentary relief from that fear.
PERFECTIONISM AND THE CHRISTIAN LIFE
Aside from wildly underestimating God’s goodness, grace, and sovereignty, the trouble with perfectionism is that it’s unattainable. There is always something that is falling short, always some area of failure, so there will never be a time in which shame stops speaking and we can truly rest. It’s a never-ending plight that will keep us busy until the day we die. We can re-brand that plight as “noble” or “holy” if we’d like, but in the end, it’s a form of bondage — and specifically, a bondage that Jesus came to deliver us from.
The requirement of perfection is not a demand that the Lord places on our shoulders. In fact, it’s the whole reason Jesus — the spotless Lamb — gave himself to be sacrificed. Because until something perfect could be placed on the altar, every other imperfect offering simply delayed the repercussions of sin by another year (Cf. Heb 9). There IS no end in sight for humans trying to set things right through their own efforts. Nothing we have to offer is capable of completing a task of that magnitude.
And that’s the gift of salvation — that we don’t have to.
The pursuit of holiness is a noble thing. But pursuing holiness looks different after Jesus’ Resurrection than before Jesus’ Resurrection. Pre-Resurrection, rules and laws and rituals and sacrifices were the highest way of honoring God, largely on account of the relational chasm between God and man. That changed with Jesus. His atonement for sin closed the gap between man and God, so that our honor to the Lord could come through intimacy in relationship rather than rules and checklists. Holiness is no longer measured by externals, as Jesus so sharply reminded the religious elite (Mt 23:25).
The Christian life is not relentless self-evaluation and betterment. We have a mission, and it’s not self-improvement. It’s bringing light into darkness — setting captives free, healing the broken, repairing and reconciling relationships. This cannot be done with our eyes fixed upon ourselves.
I believe our Church culture is infested with not only perfectionism, but with the conditions that fuel perfectionism (shame, guilt, fear, manipulation etc.), and it’s become so infused into the practice of our Faith that most of us don’t know what the pursuit of holiness looks like without it. While our Catholic theology certainly states otherwise (CCC 1996-1999), if you were to surmise what we value based on the typical activities within our Church – the topics preached, the books revered, the practices endorsed, the quotations strewn – the overarching message is that the gospel is equivalent to an exhortation for self-improvement. I believe that in the name of pursuing holiness, the scales of our Church culture have been tipped too far in a certain direction (I'm looking at you, neo-Pelagianism) and need to be re-set. I believe that the things glorified and emphasized in the Catholic journey of discipleship require a recalibration.
GETTING PRACTICAL
From a big-picture standpoint, there is much I could say about addressing this on a cultural level, some of which I cover in a follow-up post here. But for now, I simply want to equip those in the Church who struggle with perfectionism to navigate their journeys in the midst of these cultural conditions.
3 tips:
True freedom grows in an environment where imperfection is allowed.
Fear will forever reduce you if you limit your activities to the things that carry no risk of failure or criticism. We grow into our fullest selves when there’s room to take risks and when our imperfections are met with grace and kindness. Cultivate in yourself a willingness to be comfortable in the midst of mess – both your own and those of others. God’s grace and mercy are endless, His redemption skills are unmatched, and we are ALL in-process, so messes are nothing to be afraid of.
Not every spiritual message is targeting you.
Exhortations from the pulpit may be appropriate for a specific audience of a certain stage of their spiritual development. And the counsel of the Saints may have been particularly apt for the culture and circumstances in which they were immersed – or stemming from something that God was doing uniquely in them at the time. But, especially for those who are in sincere pursuit of the Lord, it is not necessary to assume that every accusation, correction, or piece of advice is applicable to you. Choose to be unoffended and learn to flush the things that don’t apply.Not everyone has the right to speak critically into your life.
Correction takes place in relationship, and relationships are formed over time and within the confines of trust. It’s easy for outsiders to criticize a portion of what they see without knowing the bigger picture of a life unfolding. If someone is unwilling to be part of your journey – if they aren’t cheering you on and telling you what you’re doing right in equal (or greater) measure to what you’re doing wrong – they have not earned the position to be a voice of influence in your life. Once again, permission to flush.
And for anyone who needs to hear it:
God is not measuring your faults. His lens for you does not magnify your shortcomings; it magnifies your glory.
God is the author of process, and He is inexhaustibly patient and kind throughout the entirety of your journey.
God holds no disdain. He celebrates who you are right now, and will not withhold love or grace in accord with your performance.
You are seen and loved in your imperfection, and there is room for you in the Church, as-is.
On behalf of the Church, I am so deeply sorry for any experience in which you received shame or condemnation from the Body of Christ. You deserve more than that from us. We failed to represent God's heart to you, and we should have loved you better.
And... you're doing great. You are a gift to this world, and we need you.