On perfection

A perfect Creator makes only perfection; but in the world we see around us, it is very hard to appreciate this perfection. An analogy:

I like the play Hamlet very much. Although it has its flaws, for the sake of argument, let’s call it an example of perfection.

As a perfect play, it tries to say something, to tell a story. To this end, it portrays characters of diverse temperments, with various flaws, etc. Because of these flaws, the audience marvels at how they are overcome, and how each character shows his mettle in responding to them.

So the “flaw” of these characters is part of the play’s perfection. If every character were completely virtuous and noble, one might think, “What’s the point?”

God is the Beloved. You might call this life a passion play in which His nature as the Beloved is revealed through the actions of his lovers. These lovers, like characters in a play, have flaws – because those flaws make it possible to manifest the rare qualities of love.

I think the meaning of “perfection” defeats us. I wouldn’t call Hamlet imperfect simply because the main character’s uncle kills his brother; rather, the murder is needed to set the stage for all that comes afterward. It is part of the genius of the play.

If we see this world as not terribly important per se, but inestimably valuable in revealing the qualities of love, then pain and evil take on wholly different aspects.

We are the guests of One Who devours His guests;
The friends of the One Who slaughters His friends...
Although by His gaze He brings death to so many lovers,
Let yourself be killed by Him: Is He not the water of life?

Never, ever, grow bitter: He is the Friend and kills gently.
Keep your heart noble, for this most noble Love
kills only kings near God, and men free from passion.

We are the night, Earth's shadow.
He is the Sun:
He splits open the night with a sword soaked in dawn...[^1]