The thirty-first of January

Self-transformation is the greatest gift you can give the world^*

Really? Does it matter what I transform into? An evil dictator? A bird?

That was a bit of a cheap shot. True, we could probably all do with a bit of improvement, but should we concentrate on ourselves, trying to be better people, or should we concentrate on doing those things that a better person would do? The former might lead to self-obsession, which wasn't the goal. Maybe the latter option will result in unexpected but welcome personality changes.

Actually, this is a bit beside the point, but in the interest of fairness, I think I ought to question the received wisdom from modern Western Christian culture (or at least my experience of it). It relates to what I said above about us all needing a bit of improvement. This seems to be the accepted position in Christian circles: if you're not in heaven, then you're not perfect yet. But why? If Jesus died to remove our imperfections, then why can't it happen while we're here on Earth? It seems to be assumed that the process begins here, but never finishes here. But why would God take all the newly perfect people away, so that they can't help with the work to do down here?

Perhaps the process isn't completed until we come into closer contact with God in heaven. I don't know. It may be worth noting, though, that not all Christians have always accepted that assumption. It depends on what you mean by perfect, though. John Wesley advocated (and I understand that Methodists still advocate) that "Christian perfection" can be attained before death. Precisely what he meant by this is unclear to me, but you can try to figure it out for yourself; you may wish to start by trying to read his sermon called Christian Perfection.

C. S. Lewis seems to suggest something perhaps similar in Mere Christianity, in the chapter called The New Men:

Already the new men are dotted here and there all over the earth. … When you have recognised one of them, you will recognise the next one much more easily. And I strongly suspect (but how should I know?) that they recognise one another immediately and infallibly, across every barrier of colour, sex, class, age, and even of creeds. In that way, to become holy is rather like joining a secret society. To put it at the very lowest, it must be great fun.

Earlier, though, in the chapters Counting the Cost and Nice People or New Men, he says

The command Be ye perfect is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. He said (in the Bible) that we were 'gods' and He is going to make good His words. If we let Him—for we can prevent Him, if we choose—He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful, but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said.
He meant what He said. Those who put themselves in His hands will become perfect, as He is perfect—perfect in love, wisdom, joy, beauty, and immortality. The change will not be completed in this life, for death is an important part of the treatment. How far the change will have gone before death in any particular Christian is uncertain.

It sounds, though, like he's thinking of perfection in a broader sense here than what Wesley seemed to claim we could attain in this life; Wesley specifically says that in this life we won't be perfect in knowledge, for example.

I don't know what to make of all this. Let me know if you do.

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^* Reproduced by permission of the copyright-holder BK Publications, London, www.bkpublications.com