Marilu Thomas, “Life on Life’s Terms”
A man was admiring the Grand Canyon in the very early morning when the fence gave way and he plunged down the side. Finally grasping a little scrubby tree on the canyon wall, he looked up at the canyon wall above him and the rock canyon below him. No one had seen him fall, he was hanging out of sight and no one could hear him if he yelled. The man started to pray, “Please God, help me!” To his surprise, he heard a loud reply. “All right,” came the voice and he felt immediate comfort. Then he heard the voice again, “Let go.” The man looked down at the huge boulders below and replied, “But God, you don’t understand!”. “Let go,“ came the answer. Silence filled the canyon. The man thought for a hot minute then asked, “Is there anybody else up there?” We relate to this story because life often feels like we’re clinging to a scrubby tree on a canyon wall. And yet, we are asked to let go and trust the outcome to God. Today we are being asked to let go of judgment, of ourselves and others. God alone can judge you.
In the gospel of Matthew 11, Jesus describes the short-sightedness of the pharisees’ judgmental labeling. A little background first. The gospel of Matthew was written to the Jewish people, using the lens of the Law of Moses and the prophecies of the Messiah. A few verses before our scripture today, John the Baptist, who was Jesus’ cousin and like the prophet Elijah has come to ‘prepare the way for the Lord,’ sends his disciples to ask Jesus if he really is the Messiah. John is confused by Jesus’ behavior. He’s not acting like John’s idea of a holy Messiah. John, who was a straight-arrow religious guy who lived in the desert on a strict Keto diet, has heard that Jesus is partying with sinners and tax collectors. It’s like John is asking Jesus, “Are you part of the family? You sure aren’t acting like it!” What is a religious person, a God-believer supposed to look like? Act like? This is what Jesus is challenging when he says, John came playing funeral music and you didn’t mourn, I came playing wedding music and you didn’t dance. You’re stuck in your rules about how people should be. What God should look like. What God should do or can do.
The Pharisees were the religiously pietistic, rule-patrol lay people. Because John lived a sparse life, the Pharisees said he must have a demon. In contrast, Jesus, the Grace of God in human form, came eating and drinking and the Pharisees called him a glutton and a drunkard. The Pharisees didn’t know how to judge what was happening right in front of them and we don’t either.
Think about how we judge. We believe to judge something is to have criteria—to hold people to standards—to have high expectations. All true until the lens of judgment is turned on us. Then we want to be understood and judged by our intentions, not our actions. We judge others as flawed but think of ourselves as just reacting to outside circumstances.
Carl Jung wrote, “Thinking is difficult, that’s why most people judge.” Human behavior expert Dr. John Demartini refers to a phenomenon called “self-righteous” and “self-wrongeous” to explain why we judge. Through judging, we define the worth of everyone we meet and quell the fear that we might be organically made wrong, without merit or true worth. Unremarkable. Unloveable. We prefer to filter the world with quick labels to protect ourselves from judgment by figuring out where we are in the pecking order. It’s the moral form of sibling rivalry.
If you’re thinking you don’t judge very much, take a short walk around your neighborhood or at work. Your brain will serve up all kinds of judgments for you to feel better about yourself. “Why haven’t they cut their lawn yet? It looks terrible!” “I wouldn’t wear that color if I were her.” “That guy is so lazy! What does he do anyway?” “She’s the grouch of the neighborhood.” It’s sobering to realize people are walking by you with these thoughts, too.
Have you ever felt judged? Were you judged and labeled in your family? The funny one, the smart one, the first-born, the bossy one, the introvert, the clown, the weirdo, the druggie, the idiot, whatever label was applied to you. Some labels feel permanent. When we visit family, we fall right back into our assigned roles. If you’re like the rest of us, you also judge and label yourself. Never measuring up to your high ideals, never proving yourself to be worthy of love and belonging. You feel like you will always be angry, anxious, neurotic, silly, bad with money, not smart, ugly, or however you label yourself. When we feel judged, we want to defend ourselves with our resumé of good works. But Johnathan Linebaugh says, “Your biography cannot carry the weight of your belovedness.” What you have done or left undone is not the measure of your worth to God.
Along these lines, I am a diehard Ted Lasso fan, about the US Football coach who goes to the UK to coach a Premier Soccer team. In Season 3, the Team Captain, Isaac McAdoo rushes the stands to hit a rude fan and gets a red card penalty. At the Press Conference, the Head coach, Roy Kent, is asked by a journalist, “Coach, do you condone what Isaac did?” Roy replies (with expletives deleted) “Of course we don’t! What Isaac did was awful! He was lucky he only got a red card!” The journalist asks, “So why did he do it? And Roy replies, “I get some people think if they buy a ticket, they can yell whatever they like at the footballers. But they’re not just footballers. They’re also people and none of us knows what’s going on in each other’s lives. So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong, I give him love. As for why he did what he did, that’s none of my business.”
There’s a great passage in the Big Book of AA about judgment. It says, “Shakespeare said, All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. He forgot to mention that I was the chief critic. I was always able to see the flaw in every person, every situation. And I was always glad to point it out because I knew you wanted perfection just as I did….AA has taught me that there’s a bit of good in the worst of us and a bit of bad in the best of us, that we are all children of God and we each have a right to be here. When I complain about me or about you, I am complaining about God’s handiwork. I am saying that I know better than God…. This proves I don’t know what’s good for me. And if I don’t know what’s good for me, then I don’t know what’s good or bad for you or for anyone. So I’m better off if I don’t give advice, don’t figure I know what’s best, and just accept life on life’s terms, as it is today, especially my own life. As it actually is.”
This echoes the words of Jesus at the end of the passage today. It’s a part of our communion liturgy each week. “Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden light.” The yoke in the bible is a symbol of a heavy task or burden. The commands of God are heavy tasks that we cannot accomplish on the human plane. Just as our wills are bound by our desires, our judgments are bound by our fears. Christ Jesus came to set us free from the burden of the Law, the guilt and remorse we feel every day. He knows the judgment you feel is real and heavy. The stoles we wear as priests are symbols of Christ’s easy yoke of grace. As St. Paul did, we preach Christ crucified as the removal of the burden of the judgment of sin from us. Put down the burden of judging yourself and others. You were made by a loving and forgiving God and you are meant to be here. You are not a mistake. Jesus is your only judge and if you could see yourself through his eyes, you would know there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus. You have been permanently labeled Beloved and Forgiven. He was crucified to take it on himself and relieve you of the weight. His grace is amazing and meets you where you are, not where you think you should be. May you find the rest for your soul today knowing that you are loved beyond measure. Amen
