In today’s Gospel Jesus names as hypocrites those who notice faults in others but who are blind to their own shortcomings, thereby passing themselves off as something they are clearly not. In his teaching Jesus touches on an important subject in all personal relationships: how self-criticism is an essential part of genuine relations with other people.
To be critical of others, while at the same time lacking any sense of self-criticism ourselves, is a profitless pastime. To exact high standards from others, while readily finding excuses for our lackluster performance, can only be a fruitless exercise. Apart from anything else, it makes us appear little more than insufferable. Our criticism of others may be true, but the accused may regard us as having no more self-awareness than could be stuffed into a thimble. Telling the truth about others is rarely sufficient recommendation in itself; the process may be nothing more than scapegoating. And at the end of that process, we usually end up with a victim, not a convert.
This does not mean, however, that we are condemned to silence, rendered incapable of making our reservations felt about people and issues. Other people will pay more attention to what we have to say when they detect that we are aware of our own shortcomings and that our criticism does not emerge from self-righteousness. When our own scares of conscience glow in the dark, others will be more inclined to heed our words.
We know from experience that people can greet criticism with reactions that vary from eyebrow raising to nuclear war. How do you tell the truth to people without stealing their dignity or leaving them in the casualty department? The Gospel says: ‘’A man’s words flow out of what fills his heart.’’ Which leads to the question, what fills our hearts? What kind of heart is behind the way we criticize others? The way we offer criticism depends on our heart condition. William Penn, the great Quaker and champion of religious tolerance, made the observation: ‘’They have a right to censure that have a heart to help.’’ That insight makes good commentary on the Gospel. When people know that our heart is behind our censure, that what we say comes from a genuine attempt to help them, they might take heed. But if they doubt that, they appeal to us: ‘’Oh, have a heart!’’
In the language of the Gospel, criticism must come from the store of goodness in our heart. If that goodness is absent, we would be better keeping silent. Sharing a bad heart converts no one. Sharing the goodness in our heart, however, is no guarantee that others will greet our criticism with applause. But then Jesus was rarely applauded when he exercised his critical mind. Like him, we have to soldier on – even when the ratings go down. After all, as the Gospel also says: ‘’the fully trained disciple will always be like his teacher.’’