Rarely has such a practical book been published from a distinguished academic press. ‘Practical’ in the sense that the book explores a question that haunts every human life: am I able to be perfect? In response to this question, Robin Gill ranges widely, touching on everything from cooking to Christ.

The book starts with a helpful survey through different accounts of perfection, from John Wesley to Iris Murdoch. The primary interlocutor becomes Thomas Aquinas. For Aquinas, there are different types of perfection (perhaps degrees would be better), which creates the flexibility that Gill wants and needs. So, Gill starts his journey by going to Westminster Abbey to engage with the memorials of the perfect and is especially taken with Isaac Newton as the blend of genius physicist and rather eccentric theologian. From people to areas: we start with Bach’s Cello Suite, then the Stubbs 1762 painting of a racehorse, then the sculpture of The Boxer at Rest, and finally, Iris Murdoch’s novel, The Bell. The goal is to establish an understanding of perfection where something could not ‘have been done better’. (p. 59) But, of course, these illustrations lack a necessary condition for human perfection, namely, moral courage and clarity, for example, ‘loving your enemies’. So, building on his previous book Moral Passion and Christian Ethics, Gill explores a fascinating contrast between Albert Schweitzer and Henry Holland. Gill finishes this chapter celebrating the human doctor, Paul Farmer.

Thus far the book has on the whole seen perfectionism as a good. However, Gill concludes part one of the book with a survey of the psychological perfectionist literature. It is here that the perfect body is discussed, along with educational counselling guidance to undergraduates about the dangers of perfectionism. Gill wants nuance. Much is made of the distinction between maladaptive and adaptive perfectionists, which, for Gill, is too dependent on perception.

Part two of the book becomes more theological. We finally arrive at the famous text from the Sermon on the Mount – ‘be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect’. Interestingly, the main theme of this chapter is that perfection does not simply appear here in Matthew 5:48 but is a major Biblical theme. Gill sees two trends in the New Testament: one where perfection is inward-focused and the other where perfection is more progressive and future-orientated. On Jesus, Gill sees Jesus as perfect not simply in respect of his relationship to God but also as an agent of the kingdom – in a Desmond Tutu type role. Although Jesus was wrong about his eschatological expectations, he remains perfect as an agent of justice in the world. Gill’s model of perfection is both dynamic and ‘perceptual’ (p. 147) – we glimpse perfection in a variety of different ways.

This then takes us to part three. This is perhaps the most creative part of the book. In terms of the glimpse of the perfection of Jesus, the key moment for the disciples, argues Gill, is the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration now becomes central (hence the word is part of the title of the book). Gill sees the Transfiguration as a template (p. 223). It is a template that calls Christians to engage more effectively with our Jewish and Muslim adherents (after all, the Transfiguration makes Moses and Elijah central to a narrative in a way that both the Qur’an and the Hebrew Scriptures would affirm). Gill does admit that he is throwing ‘caution to the winds’ in offering this interpretation (p. 170). Yet the result is compelling. The Abrahamic cooperation and trust, grounded around the glimpse of perfection of Jesus in the Transfiguration, offers a way for the three traditions to engage more effectively on ‘religiously inspired violence, nuclear proliferation and environmental degradation’ (p. 223). The book concludes by insisting that a faith-based response to the environmental crisis is both more coherent and plausible than the secular humanist response.

On the central argument, Gill is persuasive. Perfection is not static nor all encompassing – one can be perfect in some respects but not all. Instead, it is dynamic and perceptual. It is also important. Although a more extended discussion of the dangers of perfectionism might have been helpful (I confess I love Fr. Kilian McDonnell’s fabulous poem, ‘Perfection, perfection’), the Biblical witness is clear, we are invited to grow into the likeness of Christ that entails increasing perfection. The template of the Transfiguration and the invitation to see this as a basis for Abrahamic cooperation is a creative and imaginative basis for interreligious work. The interfaith movement has shifted from formal dialogues to reading Scripture together. Gill’s vision fits right into this shift. Like much of Gill’s work, he is advocating a classic ‘liberal’ theology (by which I mean one committed to inclusion) based on the Biblical witness. If liberal values are going to survive, this must be the right approach. Gill makes it clear, that he is deeply committed to the theistic narrative, especially when compared to the narrative of atheism. Interreligious cooperation cannot be built on the edifice of religious scepticism; it must be built on a sense that this is justified and affirmed in our Scriptures. The Transfiguration is a helpful narrative in this respect.

This is masterful book. Gill’s coverage of the topic of perfection will be a decisive reference work for at least a generation of scholars. Both in terms of argument and of the implications of the argument, Gill is right. Finally, this is the first book that I have reviewed where a discussion by the author made me stop reading the book to watch the YouTube version of Yo Yo Man’s The Bach Cello Suites. Robin Gill is right. The rendering of that music is indeed perfect.