Recognising our Agendas

To judge others is qualified by distinguishing between judging others and the need to recognise others for who they are: the latter is positive because it provides us with the clearness of mind to avoid delusions. Recognising the depravity encountered in others offers us an opportunity not to ignore our unrighteousness, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3,23). This recognition entails a process, which integrates the formation of our conscience; hence, the need to let the Magister illumine our hearts and minds to avoid delusions (John 8,12). We, therefore, need to listen carefully as doers of the word and not merely hearers who deceive themselves (James 1,22) because “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves; so be wise as serpents, and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10,16). 

The formation of conscience requires that we have no self-serving agendas that obscure the truth. These venal motivations impair truth because, self-absorbed in our subjectivity, we burden others with our failures or expectations while ignoring our own. This understanding recalls the Magister’s insight: “You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye” (Matthew 7, 5; Rom 2,3). Compromised, we fail to understand the Magister’s warning: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven” (Luke 6,37-38), further clarified by Paul’s advice: “Therefore you have nothing to say in your own defence, whoever you are who set yourself as judge? In judging others you condemn yourself, for you who set yourself as a judge do the very same things” (Romans 2,1).

Our self-understanding integrates an examination of our choices and daily actions to align them with our faith as a gateway to the love the Father has lavished on us as we are purified of all that prevents us from being as He is: pure love (1John 3,1-3). Judging others exhibits an immature grasping of this love: to practice it realistically in life as a contrasting black-and-white pattern, not ignoring its grayishness in our attempt to be inclusive without betraying our core values. This is possible when we are focused on a radical re-evaluation of our outlook, “quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1,19). Associated with personal conversion, it gradually transforms us into a mustard tree: a sheltering refuge for others (Mark 4,30-32; Matthew 13,31-32; Luke 13,18-19). This insight empowers us to sow seeds in darkened corners untouched by the Magister’s light (Mk. 4,26-29), including our own, even not admitted because we confuse our agendas with the truth. 

The refuge offered or received proves a double-edged sword, which serves to renew our self-understanding as we reflect on Isaiah: “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isaiah 1,18). Our hearts’ renewal reminds us that limits do exist between the sacred and the secular, because it is through the latter that we encounter the former. This is a Jewish insight that underlines the Christian experience because “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1,14). 

Two principles highlight these limits: an ability to distinguish between the two and an aptitude to understand each one thoroughly. The passage from the secular to the sacred proves itself in not ignoring the human face encountered as a ‘Kairos’ (an opportune time) to embrace the Magister’s face because “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13,35). The intended boundaries are not walls that separate but valleys that unite, since the Magister’s face mirrors itself in the encountered faces that cross our paths so that beyond our agendas, He draws us to Himself: “And I, when I am lifted from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12,32).

Martin



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