“Every judgment hides a mirror. What you despise in another is the abandoned face of your own Self.” ~ J. Mike Fields
The simpler version of this quote is: “You spot it, you got it,” or “every accusation is a confession.”
Whichever version you choose is ouchy, if you’re brave enough to be honest with yourself (few are).
We are, by nature, a judgy species. I wonder sometimes if other critters are as judgmental of one another as humans are of each other. When a deer sees another deer with a bum leg or a busted rack, does it make self-righteous remarks about how that deer should have been smarter, or faster, or stronger and thus avoided the injury?
Do dogs at the dog park make rude comparisons of other dog’s leashes and the owners attached to them? “If Rover’s owner wasn’t so lazy, maybe Rover’s groomer wouldn’t have given him that dumb poodle cut.” I doubt it.
Those fluffy sheep that passed through town last weekend, was their conversation filled with snarky criticisms of the sheep wearing the bells? “I bet she thinks she’s better than us. She’s not, you know. She’s just a suck-up to the shepherd.”
It sounds absurd when we apply it to animals, doesn’t it? But humans? We excel at this questionable skill.
The truth is, it’s easier to criticize and condemn than it is to admit that we, too, are fallible and weak and subject to failure, accident, illness, and poverty. We wear our judgment like a magical shield against the very things we judge.
If they’d been better parents, maybe their kid wouldn’t have fallen into addiction, crime, sexual sin.
If they just worked harder, they wouldn’t need those government hand-outs.
If they didn’t waste their money on frivolous things, they wouldn’t have to depend on the food bank.
If they hadn’t smoked/drank/ate too much, they’d be healthier and wouldn’t need help with health insurance.
And my personal “favorite”: If they’d just been a better Christian, those bad things wouldn’t have happened to them. Yeah. I can’t wait to hear that debate with the Apostles.
I’ve heard (and said) all of these things at one time or another, and I’m not proud of that. On the surface (being judgmental is always superficial), these pithy little statements feel accurate (and ego-boosting), but when you add in the nuance of individual circumstance, they fall flatter than a deflated holiday blow-up decoration.
Perhaps that trigger-finger judgment is actually a “tell,” like in poker. Shakespeare seemed to think so. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” says Queen Gertrude in Hamlet, pointing out that the person who keeps vehemently denying or protesting something is, in fact, hiding a guilty secret. If not actively guilty of the behavior being judged, the act of judgment itself is indicative of fear. Fear that we have more in common with the objects of our criticism than we’re willing to admit.
What we hate and despise in others is often the very demon we’re fighting within. Perhaps that’s why some of those words-in-red — the ones so quickly ignored in favor of the ones in black that make us feel self-righteous and holy — include the following admonition:
“Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.”
Those are good words to keep in the forefront of one’s mind.