Having just read today’s gospel out loud, I feel rather apprehensive about opening my mouth and preaching to you and, in the process, being humiliated by Jesus’ words: “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” It might surprise you, but I’m acutely aware of my shortcomings, imperfections, deficiencies, weaknesses… this list can go on and on. And yet, I must preach now because it’s in my job description, and a sermon is required for a Sunday Mass by the law of the Church. I suppose a brief analysis of the gospel reading might be safer ground to start with.
The overall tone of the passage seems harsh, even condemnatory. The message is hammered down by four different images: a blind person leading another blind person, a disciple who isn’t as good as his teacher, the aforementioned “have-a-go” precision eye surgeon, and the tree bearing good or bad fruit and thus revealing its true nature. So as not to leave any room for misinterpretation, the whole thing is wrapped up by Jesus in a direct message: “The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil.” In fact, these words are the key to the correct understanding of today’s gospel message.
At first glance, Jesus seemed to say that we can correct others only when we have already become some kind of perfect person: “First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.” But in practical terms, it would render virtually everyone unable to say anything to anyone. To make it even worse, nobody could become a better version of themselves because this happens only when we are challenged, pushed, or even forced to change our attitudes, behaviour and so on. Unchallenged, we can only grow more and more full of ourselves, increasingly unbearable and insufferable to everyone around us. To complicate matters more, because nobody’s perfect, no one can say anything critical to anyone else: “Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit?” It looks like we are doomed if we try to stick to Jesus’ pronouncements in today’s gospel. But look closer at this sentence: “First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.” There’s no denying there’s a problem: “the speck […] is in your brother’s eye,” and that it must be removed by someone other than the afflicted individual: “you will see clearly to take out the speck.” It’s a bit of a conundrum…
I’m having to go a bit too personal for comfort at this point, and by no means am I trying to set myself up as a model to imitate. As far back as I remember, priests were seen as models of virtue and perfection. As far as I remember, in my experience of priests, they hardly ever lived up to such standards, and I don’t mean any criminality or the like. When I applied to the seminary and started my training, such a model of the priesthood was the default one. I’d just barely started my studies, and the staff in the seminary, from religious nuns to lay people, addressed me as “Father”. It sat very uneasily with me, and I asked one of the nuns why they were doing so. “You will become a priest, and you must start getting used to it from the start”, was her answer. The message was constantly hammered into my head over the six years of my studies. It continued after my ordination when I started working in a parish and teaching in a school. The pressure to be seen and act as if I were a model of virtue was huge while I was fully aware of my many shortcomings. It was a dissonance I couldn’t live with. Here’s the clincher. Inspired by a spiritual book, I realised that my imperfections were not a source of weakness but rather of strength if I embraced them as instruments of my greater humility (still a long way to go…) and compassion in dealing with others (likewise…). Having known myself for a long time, I can see how God has used my many failures, character imperfections, shortcomings, weaknesses and sins to soften my heart and make it a bit less stony. Thank God, I don’t have to pretend to be perfect anymore; instead, I can try to accompany those struggling with their challenges and, hopefully, offer compassionate support.
The message in today’s gospel is firstly about finding humility through acknowledging one’s own personal imperfections and – secondly – using such humility as a platform to deal with people in a better and more sympathetic manner. It should come from the realisation that if most of my errors and mistakes resulted from my arrogance, ignorance, mindlessness, lack of imagination, weakness and the like, rather than the intention to cause harm, most likely it applies to most other people, too. Consequently, I should be as quick to forgive others as I am to absolve myself. If your mistakes don’t make you more sympathetic and charitable, then you have wasted them. That’s what I tell myself all the time.
Image by medical_photos from Pixabay
