I carry my judgments like stones, heavy in my pocket. They have the appearance of being trustworthy, solid as anchors, but their rigidity does not breathe. I know they harm me more than help me, but I find it hard to lay them aside. If I continue to collect them, they will drown me.
Making judgments is embedded in the way I learn about the world. I’m constantly discerning, evaluating, and making choices based on my past experiences. I learn what works and what doesn’t, what is right and what is wrong, and those lessons condition how I respond to people and events. But judgment adds an unnecessary step, assigning a moral conclusion that something is inherently good or bad. When I arrive at a judgment, my process of discerning and evaluation collapses into a simple fixed declaration.
I hold my judgments dearly. To reconsider them means my opinions and choices may have been wrong. Actions I took, pain I caused, may have been misguided. Fervent defense of my judgments becomes an exercise in self-justification. If others are bad, I am good when I oppose them. But if my judgments about others are misplaced, wholly or partly untrue, then where am I on the scale of goodness?
Making judgments about the inherent moral character of others is a natural human tendency, but holding our judgments too tightly clouds our perception and closes possibilities. There is a difference between deciding an action is evil and the further step of judging that a person, group, or movement is inherently virtuous or evil. If we look back at history, we can see that the dividing line between good and bad is always blurred.
The abolitionist movement was undoubtedly good. Against long odds, it fought a horrific system of kidnapping and enslaved labor that was rooted in the economic system of its day. Who would disagree that this system was evil? But within the abolitionist movement were factions that were virulently anti-immigrant, anti-Irish, and anti-Catholic, values we find abhorrent today.
The suffrage movement secured the right to vote for women, righting a grievous wrong that had warped our government since its birth. But leaders at the time often sidelined or excluded black women to appease southern segregationists, whose support they needed.
The civil rights movement courageously tackled the bigotry of segregation and Jim Crow. But even this noble cause had its contradictions and phobias. Bayard Rustin, a civil rights leader and the key architect of the March on Washington, could never hold a prominent position in the movement because he was gay. In the famous Oval Office pictures after the march, he is nowhere to be seen.
The truth of what is good and bad is always more fluid and complicated than our fixed judgments can contain. It is rarely black-and-white with a clear line between. And yet, we have to act within this murky grey based on the information we have and our moral intuition at the time. In the turbulent world that is tumbling in front of my eyes, I want to stop the chaos, to slow what is bad and foster what is good, but I’m often confused. My anger at cruelty wants someone to blame, someone I can denounce as evil so I know who to fight.
But even more than wanting to be angry, I want to act with integrity. Deep inside, I know my judgments have their own blind spots and prejudices that restrict the lens of my perception. When taken too far, they poison my soul. My judgments constrict my heart and close my thinking, neither of which makes me more effective. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. taught that we can fight evil actions without hatred: “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.”
I want to pull the stones from my pocket and drop them on the ground, but I’m afraid I will lose my passion for change. Caught between the wisdom of King’s words and the force of my anger, I know what I must choose. Fighting evil without turning others demons is not easy, but it is the work I’m committed to.
Photo by John Cardamone on Unsplash
So well said, Steve. Thank you for the reminder. Wise words from the Buddha, “Hatred can never cease by hatred, hatred can only cease by love, this is an eternal law.”
Thanks Barry. That is a beautiful quote from the Buddha.
This is a wonderful essay, Steve. It’s a very important message, especially now, but a difficult one to remember. These words will help with my own challenges in keeping my own pockets free of stones — even as I try to do my part in fighting the wrongs we see all around us now.
Chris, I admire you for all you do to right the wrongs of the world. You and I have open hearts, and that is why we are so vulnerable to pain and anger. It’s a constant job to keep our eyes on the bigger prize.