Judgment Continued

 I knew I could count on you people. My insanely wise friend Collette even resurrected her blog in order to respond to my questions, so you should probably go read what she said.

 The talk from Elder Oaks that Bryce referred me to was very enlightening as well, so if you're interested in this subject, it's definitely worth a read.

And lastly, if you're interested but shorter on time, here are some snippets from the talk that I found most helpful.

"I have been puzzled that some scriptures command us not to judge and others instruct us that we should judge and even tell us how to do it. But as I have studied these passages I have become convinced that these seemingly contradictory directions are consistent when we view them with the perspective of eternity. The key is to understand that there are two kinds of judging: final judgments, which we are forbidden to make, and intermediate judgments, which we are directed to make, but upon righteous principles.

Since mortals cannot suppose that they will be acting as final judges at that future, sacred time, why did the Savior command that we not judge final judgments? I believe this commandment was given because we presume to make final judgments whenever we proclaim that any particular person is going to hell (or to heaven) for a particular act or as of a particular time. When we do this—and there is great temptation to do so—we hurt ourselves and the person we pretend to judge.

The Prophet Joseph Smith said: “While one portion of the human race is judging and condemning the other without mercy, the Great Parent of the universe looks upon the whole of the human family with a fatherly care and paternal regard; … He holds the reins of judgment in His hands; He is a wise Lawgiver, and will judge all men, … ‘not according to what they have not, but according to what they have,’ those who have lived without law, will be judged without law, and those who have a law, will be judged by that law”.

Even the Savior, during His mortal ministry, refrained from making final judgments. We see this in the account of the woman taken in adultery. After the crowd who intended to stone her had departed, Jesus asked her about her accusers. “Hath no man condemned thee?” (John 8:10). When she answered no, Jesus declared, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more” (John 8:11). In this context the word condemn apparently refers to the final judgment (see John 3:17).

The Lord obviously did not justify the woman’s sin. He simply told her that He did not condemn her—that is, He would not pass final judgment on her at that time.

We must, of course, make judgments every day in the exercise of our moral agency, but we must be careful that our judgments of people are intermediate and not final. Thus, our Savior’s teachings contain many commandments we cannot keep without making intermediate judgments of people: “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine” (Matt. 7:6); “Beware of false prophets. … Ye shall know them by their fruits” (Matt. 7:15–16); and “Go ye out from among the wicked” (D&C 38:42).

First, a righteous judgment must, by definition, be intermediate. It will refrain from declaring that a person has been assured of exaltation or from dismissing a person as being irrevocably bound for hellfire. It will refrain from declaring that a person has forfeited all opportunity for exaltation or even all opportunity for a useful role in the work of the Lord. The gospel is a gospel of hope, and none of us is authorized to deny the power of the Atonement to bring about a cleansing of individual sins, forgiveness, and a reformation of life on appropriate conditions.

Second, a righteous judgment will be guided by the Spirit of the Lord, not by anger, revenge, jealousy, or self-interest.

Third, to be righteous, an intermediate judgment must be within our stewardship. We should not presume to exercise and act upon judgments that are outside our personal responsibilities. Some time ago I attended an adult Sunday School class in a small town in Utah. The subject was the sacrament, and the class was being taught by the bishop. During class discussion a member asked, “What if you see an unworthy person partaking of the sacrament? What do you do?” The bishop answered, “You do nothing. I may need to do something.” That wise answer illustrates my point about stewardship in judging.

Fourth, we should, if possible, refrain from judging until we have adequate knowledge of the facts. In an essay titled “Sitting in the Seat of Judgment,” the great essayist William George Jordan reminded us that character cannot be judged as dress goods—by viewing a sample yard to represent a whole bolt of cloth (see The Crown of Individuality [1909], 101–5).

In another essay he wrote: “There is but one quality necessary for the perfect understanding of character, one quality that, if man have it, he may dare to judge—that is, omniscience. Most people study character as a proofreader pores over a great poem: his ears are dulled to the majesty and music of the lines, his eyes are darkened to the magic imagination of the genius of the author; that proofreader is busy watching for an inverted comma, a misspacing, or a wrong font letter. He has an eye trained for the imperfections, the weaknesses. …

“We do not need to judge nearly so much as we think we do. This is the age of snap judgments. … [We need] the courage to say, ‘I don’t know. I am waiting further evidence. I must hear both sides of the question.’ It is this suspended judgment that is the supreme form of charity”.

A fifth principle of a righteous intermediate judgment is that whenever possible we will refrain from judging people and only judge situations. This is essential whenever we attempt to act upon different standards than others with whom we must associate—at home, at work, or in the community. We can set and act upon high standards for ourselves or our homes without condemning those who do otherwise.

In a BYU devotional address, Professor Catherine Corman Parry gave a memorable scriptural illustration of the consequences of judging by the wrong standards. The scripture is familiar. 

Martha received Jesus into her house and worked to provide for Him while her sister Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and heard His words.

“But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.

“And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:

“But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:40–42).

Professor Parry said: “The Lord acknowledges Martha’s care: ‘Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things’ (Luke 10:41). Then he delivers the gentle but clear rebuke. But the rebuke would not have come had Martha not prompted it. The Lord did not go into the kitchen and tell Martha to stop cooking and come listen. Apparently he was content to let her serve him however she cared to, until she judged another person’s service: ‘Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me’ (Luke 10:40). Martha’s self-importance, expressed through her judgment of her sister, occasioned the Lord’s rebuke, not her busyness with the meal”.

“… While there are many things we must make judgments about, the sins of another or the state of our own souls in comparison to others seems not to be among them. … Our own sins, no matter how few or seemingly insignificant, disqualify us as judges of other people’s sins” 

Judgment

Poll:
What does it mean to judge, or refrain from judging, others? When you make a deliberate effort "not to judge", what does that look like?

This is something that I realized I've always been kind of confused about, and I think that confusion needs to be resolved before I can make any progress in overcoming this fault.

For instance, if I'm trying not to judge others, does that mean I don't have any opinion on the actions of others?

Does it mean that while I may have an initial reaction to the actions of others, I must always be sure to remind myself that I don't know the whole story, and therefore have no right to make any real judgments?

Am I allowed to judge when the actions of others affect me?

If someone breaks into my house, kills my dog and eats all my otter pops, I'm pretty sure I'm not only going to have an opinion about these events, but I'm going to have an opinion about the person who did it. Should I wait to hear about this person's life history and the circumstances surrounding the event before I make that judgment? Or is it understood that I'm inevitably going to make a biased judgment at first, which will have to be corrected later?

What if a member of my ward gets up during testimony meeting one Sunday and bears what I believe to be a very irreverent, fairly offensive testimony (this may or may not have happened last Fast Sunday). Is it wrong for me to feel this way? I thought feelings were never wrong? How would a non-judgmental person handle this situation?

Insights are appreciated.


Also, good news:

See this impossibly adorable kid in the Hawaiian floral combo?



Well, he's all grown up now, and I get to marry him in TWELVE days.




I'm a little bit stoked about it.

Conversation

is not my strong point. We all know this. Let's just get it out on the table right now that anything interesting you've ever heard from me came out on this blog. Also, most likely if you ever tried to discuss said interesting thing with me at a later time, in person, I probably didn't have much to say about it anymore. Maybe the Mish you know in person is not the one who writes on here?

But actually it turns out I'm just really slow. Slow to figure out what I'm thinking. Slow to translate those thoughts into intelligible conversation. By the time I figure out what I want to say and how best to say it, the moment has usually passed. So I usually smile and agree, and that is that.

Obviously all this means is that introversion has reared its ugly head once more. But instead of my usual session of Introvert Apologetics, this time I think I ought to just apologize.

Because I am so slow to speak, I find that I miss a lot of opportunities to do good. I have suppressed many generous thoughts in my day. I have let slip many opportunities to comfort and encourage. Maybe part is because I don't find the words in time. But I know a lot is because I'm scared. Scared of what, not sure.

I guess I just want you all to know that I agree - this is a totally lame way to live. Tina Fey shared this point, sort of, via clever improv analogy.

The first rule of improvisation is AGREE. Always agree and SAY YES. When you’re improvising, this means you are required to agree with whatever your partner has created. So if we’re improvising and I say, “Freeze, I have a gun,” and you say, “That’s not a gun. It’s your finger. You’re pointing your finger at me,” our improvised scene has ground to a halt. But if I say, “Freeze, I have a gun!” and you say, “The gun I gave you for Christmas! You scumbag!” then we have started a scene because we have AGREED that my finger is in fact a Christmas gun.

Now, obviously in real life you’re not always going to agree with everything everyone says. But the Rule of Agreement reminds you to “respect what your partner has created” and to at least start from an open-minded place. Start with a YES and see where that takes you.

As an improviser, I always find it jarring when I meet someone in real life whose first answer is no. “No, we can’t do that.” “No, that’s not in the budget.” “No, I will not hold your hand for a dollar.” What kind of way is that to live?

The second rule of improvisation is not only to say yes, but YES, AND. You are supposed to agree and then add something of your own. If I start a scene with “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you just say, “Yeah…” we’re kind of at a standstill. But if I say, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you say, “What did you expect? We’re in hell.” Or if I say, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you say, “Yes, this can’t be good for the wax figures.” Or if I say, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you say, “I told you we shouldn’t have crawled into this dog’s mouth,” now we’re getting somewhere.

To me YES, AND means don’t be afraid to contribute. It’s your responsibility to contribute. Always make sure you’re adding something to the discussion. Your initiations are worthwhile.

So I'm working on it. YES, AND is not a natural way for me. Or at least, out loud it isn't. But I'm tired of letting my generous thoughts slip by. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be held accountable for all those missed opportunities, someday.



P.S. If you ever bring up this post in person, I will obviously have nothing further to say on the matter.

"Years ago I preferred clever people. There was a joy in beholding a mind bearing thoughts quickly translated into words, or ideas expressed in a new way. I find now that my taste has changed. Verbal fireworks often bore me. They seem motivated by self-assertion and self-display. I now prefer another type of person; one who is considerate, understanding of others, careful not to break down another person’s self-respect. My preferred person today is one who is always aware of the needs of others, or their pain and fear and unhappiness, and their search for self-respect. I once liked clever people. Now I like good people."

-Solomon Freehof

So that's one of my favorite quotes. Whenever I get caught up in the vicious cycle of trying to be clever/funny --> not being that clever/funny --> wounded self-esteem cause I'm not that clever/funny --> trying to save flagging self-esteem by trying harder to be clever/funny, I like to fall back on this quote to remember the kind of person I really want to be. I do still enjoy clever people very much, and I think they occupy a special place in the world. But I also believe the world at this point could probably use more good people.

And the best part is, I think it's much easier to be good. It feels more within my reach.

Stuff you already know

I forgot to say in my last post, many thanks to everyone who contributed food advice to my desperate cause. You all had a lot of great suggestions, and I still intend to try out most of them. I will keep you updated on my progress. For instance, this morning I ate a banana and a pear. I'm feeling hopeful.

Quickie today, but one that I feel is very important-

A while ago I'd been thinking a lot about the interactions we have with other people, particularly the ones in which we strive to give comfort/advice. Observing my own interactions, as well as those between other people, I noticed a tendency first and foremost to try to soothe the immediate discomforts of others. Obviously this is a noble goal, and no one ought to be blamed for it. But, it seems to me that we often do this kind of soothing at the expense of the soothee's personal growth, which oftentimes requires not validation, but reprimanding. For instance: say a friend comes to you wanting to vent some frustration over a confrontation earlier that day in the supermarket. You listen actively, inserting the proper nods and facial expressions which indicate that you are understanding and sympathizing. Because you want to help this person, you most likely end up validating their frustration, agreeing that so-and-so was wrong to behave this way, and you were right to say this thing and feel this way.

But what if it's a lie?

What if, when you take a step back and look at the situation from an objective point of view, your friend appears to have been the one in the wrong? What if your friend is actually being unreasonable, or a whiny baby? What do you say then, when this person, in all trust, chose you to confide in?

It's hard to say, man. I'm not saying it's right every time to reprimand. There is a time and place for that, and sometimes it's not the time and place. And sometimes you are not the person who should do it. But, I do think it is important to evaluate all these factors before we jump in automatically and seek to patch the wound, to give them what they want instead of what they need. Sometimes the wound is necessary. Sometimes the person needs not to have their feelings confirmed, but to be jolted with a new perspective.

It's like my wise friend Collette once said: "This life is about changing." Indeed it is. How are any of us going to change for the better if our friends keep enabling our flaws, hmm?

I've been thinking about this a lot with regard to the company I keep, as well. I don't think I'm alone in admitting that some of my closest friends are people who happen to be a lot like me. Over time, perhaps not consciously, I have wittled away those who are different from me, who do not share my opinions and whose habits I can make no sense of. I am left with a bunch of quasi-me's. It's terrible egoistic, really. And what is it doing for me? Am I changing all that much when I'm with these people? Or am I rooting myself deeper into the stubborn beliefs and behaviors that we all share? I think we know the answer to this one.

Of course, it's more difficult to make friends with people who are different. We naturally gravitate toward those who we can relate to, and these are the friendships that develop and run most effortlessly. On the other hand, I've seen quite a lot of marriages composed of opposites which appeared to be all the more exciting and wonderful for their differences. So you tell me.

I thought this was going to be a quickie.

Dear Foodie Readers of this Blog,

I need your help. As most of you probably know, healthy eating is not one of my strong points, and never has been. My two best friends, bread and ice cream, can attest to this fact. Being no fool to the benefits of a diet high in fruits and vegetables, however, I recently underwent a challenge. My self-imposed challenge was to eat nothing but fruits and vegetables for a week (maybe more!). My friends, I lasted four hours before I decided that no person in their right mind would ever undertake, much less be able to, subsist on this crazy diet of air - I mean produce - for more than one apple. It took four hours.

Dear foodie readers, how can I change my ways? I want to change, I really do, but it seems oh so insurmountable. My biggest obstacle, I think, is my inability to think of produce as actual food. I know, what's wrong with this generation, right? Back in the day, fruits and vegetables were the definition of real food, or so I hear. But seriously. When I eat an orange, I feel like I am eating flavored water. It tastes sweet, sure, but it is no more food to me than gum is. I could eat 2,000 calories worth of raw food and still feel like I was starving, simply because I hadn't bitten into anything with substance that day (actually that's a lie, I would never make it to 2,000 calories, as my short-lived challenge has proven).

I know there's the chips made out of kale, and the mashed "potatoes" made out of cauliflower. And I do take comfort in the possibility of these. But is it enough? Is there a way to eat more fruits and veggies and still enjoy eating? Or do I need to suck it up and accept the fact that a healthy Mish is one who has come to terms with a lifetime of flavored water?

Please help.

Sincerely,
Picky in Provo

Plans

On the right, you will see that I have created a label cloud. It seemed like a bloggy thing to do. And, man, with labels like 'depression' and 'narcissistic', it is little wonder to me that so many of you (all five of you) keep coming back! I sure know how to keep the troops entertained!

Anyway, here's some things I'm thinking about doing with my life if my schooling proves fruitless:

-professional wreck diving
-family history-working
-manatee-saving
-white water raft-guiding
-living somewhere not in this country-ing
-enchiladas
-playing the banjo-ing
-speaking Arabic-ing
-rugby


Now I know what you are thinking. Wreck-diving and raft-guiding sound kind of adventurous and athletic. And rugby? Is she confused? Nope, folks, after years of searching I think I've finally found my inner moxie, and these are the places I want it to take me. Which means that, when that day comes when going out and doing something sounds more appealing than sitting on my bed watching Netflix, I will know exactly what to do. I am growing up, everybody.

If you read the Arabic-speaking part and thought that was kind of bizarre, it's ok. It is to me too. If you read enchiladas and thought maybe that wasn't a very realistic thing to do with your life, then maybe you, too, have a lot of growing up to do.

Now go show some lovin' to your Fa's!

The best part about this post is that I got to use the words 'ephemeral' and 'evanescent'

Pride has been on my mind a lot lately. And I'm not even talking about Westview Pride. By some stroke of divine wisdom/punishment, I feel that I've lately become more inclined to notice my own pride in all its many manifestations, which has led me to conclude that I am actually one of the most prideful people as has ever walked the earth. I know, it's so paradoxical right, cause look at me right now! I'm being all humble by acknowledging my faults and stuff, right? Well, maybe I was for a fleeting moment there, but even now I am back to being prideful about what a humble gal I am, and that ephemeral humility is three blocks down the street again. It seems that humility, like the present, is hopelessly evanescent. And yet, it must not be a completely hopeless virtue to strive for, or else I wouldn't feel shame for not having it, would I? There must still be people out there who have learned the secret of how to pin it down for at least longer than a moment. In fact, I'm pretty certain there are, because sometimes you can just tell those kinds of people.

My inability to pin down humility for longer than a millisecond is discouraging, but I have hope yet than I can improve. My wise missionary friend Sorella Jacobson pointed out that perhaps the best plan of attack for eliminating pride is not to tirelessly chase humility, but rather to focus on replacing pride with something that is equally accessible but better, like selfless service. She says our minds are a stage, and that only one act can be played on it at a time, so perhaps it is better to replace one bad act with a good one, and then humility might come as a fringe benefit. I'm still uncertain about this, but I certainly think it's worth a shot.

I know you all have thoughts on this. Let's hear 'em!

Perplexed, Portland

There's been a question burning in my soul for quite some time now, one that I've alluded to before but that I would like to now formally pose to you all:

Where do trials come from, and are we supposed to fight them?

Let me illustrate my confusion with a quote from George Q. Cannon:

"Do not allow darkness and gloom to enter into your hearts. I want to give you a rule by which you may know that the spirit which you have is the right spirit. The Spirit of God produces cheerfulness, joy, light and good feelings. Whenever you feel gloomy and despondent and are downcast, unless it be for your sins, you may know it is not the Spirit of God which you have. Fight against it and drive it out of your heart. The Spirit of God is a spirit of hope; it is not a spirit of gloom."

It seems straightforward enough, but here's what I don't get: Aren't darkness and gloom just like any other trial we mortals are subjected to? And aren't trials, after all, very good for the development of our characters, and indeed necessary for our eternal progression? My understanding is that (correct me if I'm missing something), while gloom and despondency themselves may not come of God, they are still vital experiences that He allows us to suffer for His own wise purposes. I've certainly felt in my life that the pains which have so alienated me from everything light and truth have also, paradoxically, drawn me closer to Him, and for this reason I would never trade those experiences.

Why, then, would I ever want to fight these feelings that ultimately improve me? Who would I be without these refining experiences?

And if these refining experiences are the will of the Lord, as I believe they are, then who am I to think that my own feeble efforts could do anything to remove them anyhow?

I just don't know. While you're pondering that, here's my pix from Portland last month:

Confusing Thing in My Life That I Need to Figure Out #154,789,287,764

I came to an interesting realization a few weeks ago, and it was this: I like myself better when I'm single. I feel that I am stronger, wiser, more humble, more faithful, more patient, more exacting with my time, kinder to others and more fulfilled at the end of the day, when I am single, than I ever am when I'm not. And it's pretty easy to see why, but I'll list the reasons anyway:

1. When you are single, life kind of sucks. It's true. So, in an effort to make your life worth living, you (that is, I) tend to be better about doing those things that you know will really bring you happiness, even if only in the short term. Like selfless service, and hard work, and spending time with your family, and other things that you just don't make time for when you're dating.

2. Because you're so dang lonely and your moments are therefore harder to get through, you plan them more carefully. You live your life deliberately because you must, because it doesn't just float by on its own anymore. You can't take it for granted anymore that there is a boy waiting for you every evening after work; no, instead you have to actually stop and decide what productive/enriching thing you're going to do with your free time that evening. This usually means that your time is ultimately better spent than it would have been otherwise.

3. You learn what it means to be responsible for yourself again. Responsible for your happiness, responsible for your sadness, responsible for figuring out your own problems. The point is that you don't have the option anymore of handing your latest tragedy over to the nearest male figure, imploring him to dispose of it like you would the kitchen trash. Instead you sit with it, you experience it for yourself, and you come to remember who it is after all that you're supposed to be depending on. You resolve once again that you will never, as Elizabeth Gilbert puts it, "use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings."

4. Finally, you are compelled to be humble. You figure out pretty soon that happiness in the form of a significant other is not going to come to you of your own efforts - it is clearly in someone else's hands, and in His timing. You learn a lot about what it means to really, I mean really, exercise faith (at least, as much faith as you've ever had to exercise so far in your short, cushy life).


So, in short, you're a better person. (Switching back to first-person now) I hate being single, I really do. And yet, I'm never more at peace with myself than when I'm trucking along without a man. How does this bode for marriage? Must I choose one over the other? I have so much to learn.

In case you didn't hear, it snowed in Provo today.

Becoming a Better Mish

I've recently made two internal goals that I'd like to make external, via my blog, so I can be kept accountable.

1. Smile at people in passing (as much as is possible with the long path, of course).

2. Address people by name when I greet them. I feel like "Hey, Larry! How are you?" is a lot more meaningful than, "Hey, how are you?" ...which is what I usually do. Sometimes it's because I've forgotten their name, but most of the time it's just laziness. But no longer.


So let it be written.






Yes that is the best picture I could find of people greeting each other.