In my random readings this morning, I came across a quote from Marcus Aurelius that stopped me for a moment: “Whenever you are about to find fault with someone, ask yourself the following question: What fault of mine most nearly resembles the one I am about to criticize?”
That’s a pretty good question. It’s also a little dangerous.
Because it’s one thing to notice someone else’s faults. That’s easy. It’s another thing entirely to start looking for similar faults in myself.
And, if I’m honest, I prefer the first. I am too often quite good at noticing things about others. Impatience. Not listening. Always late. Being too critical or too stubborn. Those who don’t seem to understand something that, to me, seems perfectly obvious. I have a remarkable ability to diagnose all of this. And, of course, I’m always right. Because I’ve been observing other people for years. I’m experienced, and my qualifications are impeccable.
The problem comes when a random quote invites me to turn the question around: What fault of mine most nearly resembles the one I’m criticizing?
Oh. That’s different. Because I can be impatient. Not listen. Run late. Be too critical and too stubborn. Fail to grasp someone else’s perspective. Yep, I’ve got it all.
Marcus Aurelius was a Roman emperor and a philosopher, and his book of Meditations is a collection of reminders he wrote to himself about how he ought to live. The historical Marcus Aurelius is complicated. Despite what he wrote, he ruled an empire involved in numerous wars, and Christians were persecuted during his reign. Still, the words he wrote, at least in this case, sound remarkably familiar to words of Jesus. Wisdom can show up in unexpected places.
Jesus asked, “Why are you so eager to notice the speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the log in your own?”
It’s an interesting image. Imagine trying to perform delicate eye surgery on somebody else while carrying a two-by-four sticking out of your own eye.
Jesus apparently had a sense of humor. But beneath the humor is something important.
Self-examination ought to come before criticism. That doesn’t mean we should pretend that faults don’t exist. It doesn’t mean we should never speak difficult truths. And it certainly doesn’t mean that everything someone does is ok.
But perhaps before I become an expert on another’s shortcomings, I should spend a little time examining my own.
Maybe the impatient person reminds me of my own impatience. Maybe the person who doesn’t listen reminds me of the times I haven’t heard what someone was actually saying. Maybe the person who is too critical reminds me how quickly I can find the wrongs in someone else. And maybe, just maybe, my irritation with another person’s particular fault is a clue that I recognize it because I’ve seen it in myself.
These are humbling thoughts. But they can also be helpful ones, pointing me to changes I need to make in my own life.
But there’s another – even better – point. Because, with Jesus, grace always enters the picture. Jesus doesn’t point out the log in our eye so that we can feel ashamed and hopeless. He points it out so we can remove it … and then see ourselves and others with clarity, forgive in understanding, and love in honesty.
What fault of mine most nearly resembles the one I’m about to criticize? Asking that question might make us a little slower to judge. A little quicker to understand. A little more willing to give grace. And perhaps, by the time we’ve finished looking in the mirror, we’ll have forgotten what we were going to say about the other person in the first place. That’s progress, don’t you think?
Prayer: Lord, you know me better than I know myself. When I am quick to see the faults of others, slow me down. Give me the courage to look honestly at my own life, not to put myself down, but to grow in grace to pull others up. And when I discover a little more of myself in the people who frustrate me, give me the grace to pray for both of us. Amen.
