What if we suddenly found out that we could do anything? It is certainly a compelling plot for both book and movie: what if there was a pill that could give us the ability to maximize our brain’s productivity so that we could accomplish anything, literally anything towards which we directed our mind and attention. Limitless, a movie released this past year based on the sci-fi thriller, The Dark Fields by Irish novelist, Alan Glynn, raises and strives to answer this very question. Now, in order to make it a compelling thriller, the story line of both book and movie portrays this magical drug as being inherently and extremely dangerous, emotionally and physically dangerous; so much so that the characters who take it ultimately suffer greatly and die. The danger is perfect for the movie. It adds tragic conflict and offers a powerful lesson about unmonitored drug use: the attainment of cognitive perfection at an enormous price -- one’s own very well-being and the security and well being of anyone connected with them. The story raises the challenging, yet important, question of what we are willing to sacrifice in order to feel a sense of productivity and perfection. Remove the element of danger, and, though we lose some of the thrill and drama and that all- important lesson regarding the dangers of drugs, a potent question still remains: what if we could always be super-productive? What if we could consistently and constantly work at our absolute fullest potential 100% of the time? What would you choose to accomplish with such increased intellect and energy? (Go ahead…think about it for a minute…we have time; this isn’t a long sermon.)
We who live in our modern achievement-driven world, I fear, too often equate one’s individual productivity with success and perfection. We hail those who seem to get everything done efficiently. Has anyone else been called a “super-mom” or “super-dad?” These common monikers, still used more often for moms, evoke super-hero status for the parents who juggle professional careers with all of the primary tasks of parenting. I get called that, not because I’m necessarily exceptional at anything, but because I am able to balance (more often juggle) many tasks and appear incredibly productive. It is assumed that I’m “super” at it all. Far from it. America is a very achievement-oriented culture. We don’t just equate success with achievement, we demand it. We want, we expect, to succeed, to be the best at everything; and, we are often willing to do or pay, almost anything to get a taste of that sense of success for ourselves and our children. Rarely do we consider the cost of these attempts, and rarely do we consider if the constant striving for success and achievement is anywhere near perfection at all.
Our modern English word perfection comes from the Latin terms, perfectio and perfectus, which refer to concepts associated with “finishing” and “bringing to a conclusion” respectively. These Latin roots to our English word did not have the superlative connotations we commonly associate with perfection today; rather, “perfectus” was all about bringing something to fruition. According to an article about perfection in the journal Dialectics and Humanism, the concept of "perfection" as we understand it today reaches back, beyond its Latin origins, to Aristotle and the Greek term “teleos.” Teleos, like the Latin “perfectus,” indicates a sense of finality and purposeful conclusion. Though human flourishing was indicated by entirely different Greek word, Aristotle, in his work Delta of the Metaphysics, added the abstract and superlative connotations to this Greek concept of teleos, connotations that have become associated with our modern sense of “perfection” but connotations that remained a secondary definition of the Greek “teleos” in Aristotle’s own time.
While I have never formally studied Latin or Greek, it seems to me that the implications of these early concepts of perfection have more to do with the natural journey towards completion of any action than any singular moment of perceived success or accomplishment along the way. Nor is it about being The Best once completion is reached. There is no inherent competition in the origins of perfection. Rather, perfection was about seeing something through to its logical conclusion or helping an action become complete. Sadly, I don’t think we have a decent English equivalent for conveying this original idea of perfection.
The Hebrew concept, however, of Shleimut, which shares the same root as the commonly known word shalom, seems a very useful synonym to these original concepts of perfection. Shleimut: wholeness or completeness. The word engenders a sense of satisfaction, not necessarily one of betterment or superiority, a sense of satisfaction that has become lost in our modern pursuits of perfection. Take for example, the Hebrew phrase refuah sh’leimah, which is used to wish someone well when they are sick. Refuah sh’leimah can literally be translated in English as “a complete healing,” but “a complete healing” isn’t really a satisfactory translation. To say, “a complete healing” in English simply doesn’t convey the phrase’s intent. Unlike our English ‘complete,’ the Hebrew sh’leimah doesn’t mean that the illness will necessarily be fixed or that there will be physical healing, a full recovery. Shleimah, instead, implies a sense of wholeness and coming to terms with the entire journey of healing, even if that healing entails acceptance, emotional healing, in the face of not being able to be physically healed. Perfection isn’t about being the best, it is about being whole even when what we may view as the “best” outcome is impossible.
Aristotle provided three definitions to the concept of “teleos:” that which is complete thus containing all of its requisite parts; that which has attained its purpose; and finally, that which is so good that nothing of the kind could be better. There it is, the definition that has, for better or for worse, struck our fancy and endured as our modern definition of “perfection”: that which is so good that nothing of the kind could be better.
Ironic, isn’t it? That our modern conceptions of “perfection,” a word whose linguistic roots convey a sense of finitude, now implies an endless, limitless, seeking of that which is ultimately un-definable. How can we ever know if something is so good that nothing else could be better? They keeping coming out with the perfect computer and the best phone with the most convenient apps…how could we ever know when nothing else could be better? If the Iphone 4 was ‘perfect’ why do we need the Iphone 4S? We’ve lost five pounds, how do we know that 10 won’t be better? The movie title, Limitless, is apt! The striving becomes constant, and perfection becomes an elusive and unrecognizable endeavor all to its own. There is no completion. We’ve lost the capacity to simply feel “perfectus,” complete.
So back to the original question that initiated this whole, possibly mundane, even boring for many, foray into language: what would we choose to accomplish if indeed our capacity to accomplish was limitless? How many of us thought first of the myriad of items on our “to do” list? Or, in our desire to accomplish and achieve anything or everything, did we think in today’s parlance, of our dream filled “bucket list,” of all of those things we want to do and accomplish in our life times? New York Times contributor, Carina Chocano, noted in her assessment of the movie Limitless that, “in all its pulpy glory, [the movie] represents the logical terminus of a certain pattern of modern thought, endlessly fueled by our culture [namely] if you can theoretically become perfect, then it follows you should at least try.” The assumption: that perfection comes from limitless strivings.
Indeed, our goals for perfection today tend to be consumed with the ongoing process of self-actualization. We start our new year with resolutions; and, as Jews we take advantage of January 1st to re-set and re-formulate those resolutions. Goals are extremely useful. And, Rosh Hashanah and the entire season ahead of us, all the way through Simchat Torah, is about repentance and renewal, a process which must start with the self, and -- committing, to be and do better. It is not enough to beat our chests and say Al chet shechatanu l'fanecha! At the same time, The High Holiday season, as it is known in English, is not about actualization solely for the self. It is not about putting ourselves on some higher plane above others. On the contrary, these days of Awe are about strengthening our connection with God and community and about striving for a sense of shleimut, of wholeness, in those relationships.
אם אין אני לי מי לי וכשאני לאצמי מה אני?, Hillel reminds us: If I am not for myself, who am I? The importance of self is evident in Jewish tradition. As Rabbi Reuven Balka, a contemporary commentator on Pirkei Avot, from which Hillel’s lesson is drawn, astutely argues, “No individual can step out into the world with a poor self-image and expect to make important contributions to human betterment. The neglect of self makes the neglectful person a poor choice for helping others.” But, Hillel doesn’t stop there, if I am only for myself, what am I? It is clear that we risk losing our very humanity - מה--What am I? - if all our goals are focused inward on our own potential.
What if we suddenly found out that we could do anything? As Jews, such a question must be followed by: what would we contribute to our world? How would we nurture our relationships and function in such a way as to help make this world a better place for all? Of course, such a question is fodder for the imagination; the reality is we are limited. We are limited by the extraordinary condition of our humanity. Moreover, as my cursory digging into the origins of the word reveals, the very essence of perfection has limits. Too often we seem consumed by the limits of our humanity while forgetting about the limits of perfection. Our brains, generally speaking, function just fine. It is our expectations that could use some tweaking. There is much we have to offer, as individuals and as a community, to our world even without the fantasy of being limitless.
The protagonist in Flynn’s fantasy of limitless potential states at one point, long after discovering his magic elixer, “I finally had my shot!” His failure is that he never quite answers that question, ‘shot to do what?’ Instead, the character is consumed with self-preservation, self preservation that backfires. The pursuit of perfection becomes dangerous when we remain consumed by the betterment of the self while forgetting about taking care of the world around us and the people with whom we share this world. Truth is, we don’t need to be limitless for that. We have our shot to perfect the world and make it a place of Sh’leimut, so let’s get to it!
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