Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment. — John 7:24
I assign my English students a 1946 short short story by Katharine Brush, originally published in The New Yorker. It’s called “The Birthday Party,” and its theme can touch all of us:
They were a couple in their late thirties, and they looked unmistakably married. They sat on the banquette opposite us in a little narrow restaurant, having dinner. The man had a round, self-satisfied face, with glasses on it; the woman was fadingly pretty, in a big hat. There was nothing conspicuous about them, nothing particularly noticeable, until the end of their meal, when it suddenly became obvious that this was an Occasion – in fact, the husband’s birthday, and the wife had planned a little surprise for him.
It arrived, in the form of a small but glossy birthday cake, with one pink candle burning in the center. The headwaiter brought it in and placed it before the husband, and meanwhile the violin-and-piano orchestra played “Happy Birthday to You,” and the wife beamed with shy pride over her little surprise, and such few people as there were in the restaurant tried to help out with a pattering of applause. It became clear at once that help was needed, because the husband was not pleased. Instead, he was hotly embarrassed, and indignant at his wife for embarrassing him.
You looked at him and saw this and you thought, “Oh, now, don’t be like that!” But he was like that, and as soon as the little cake had been deposited on the table, and the orchestra had finished the birthday piece, and the general attention had shifted from the man and the woman, I saw him say something to her under his breath – some punishing thing, quick and curt and unkind. I couldn’t bear to look at the woman then, so I stared at my plate and waited for quite a long time. Not long enough, though. She was still crying when I finally glanced over there again. Crying quietly and heartbrokenly and hopelessly, all to herself, under the gay big brim of her best hat.
There’s something interesting about this story. The husband, embarrassed by his wife, is the one who was “wronged”—yet he clearly is the villain. This is true to life. We are often at our most villainous when we are at our most aggrieved. We take others’ innocent actions and turn them into personal affronts. We, like the story’s husband, often counter with “some punishing thing, quick and curt and unkind.”
Christians are supposed to be “slow to anger” (James 1:19). We’re supposed to judge others by their best intentions. We might genuinely be offended by someone’s remark, but that doesn’t mean they meant to hurt us. If they don’t invite us out with the gang after work, sure, it could be because they irrationally despise us; but it might have been just a careless oversight. It is right to judge people’s actions in the best light possible. Even Jesus said of his crucifiers, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
In John 7:24, Jesus said, “Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.” Another version (NLT) says, “Look beneath the surface so you can judge correctly.” Jesus was admonishing those who were upset that He healed a man on the Sabbath. They accused him of willfully breaking Jewish law. Jesus told them to look deeper into His intentions. He hadn’t been trying to flout the law; rather, He was seeking to fulfill one of its highest aims—brotherly love—by helping someone. Compassion, not disobedience, was at the heart of his deed. If people had judged Him by his best intentions instead of how his actions “appeared’ to them, they would have made a “right judgment.”
Today we treat perceived slights with often harsh, impulsive judgment. The server who charges us for two entrees is “trying to cheat us.” The neighbor who doesn’t return our mower has “stolen” it. The person who voices a political opinion different from ours is “heartless” or “mean-spirited.” The teacher who disciplines our child “has it out for him.” It goes on and on. Jesus did not intend for us to live together this way.
It’s true that sometimes a person’s motivation is clearly malicious, and there is no “good” intention behind it. The husband in Brush’s story is one of those individuals. But even then, we should be graceful in accepting an offered apology. I’ve often said punishing things when I’m angry. My intention was to hurt. Then I come to my senses and realize how awfully I’ve behaved, and I feel remorse. When I ask the person I’ve hurt for forgiveness, it feels good to receive it. I must forgive others, too, just as God and others forgive me.
God clearly puts great value on judging others by their best intentions. In Matthew 7:2, Jesus said, “With the judgment you pronounce, you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get.” Such a serious warning indicates how strongly God feels about the way we judge.
Katharine Brush’s story helps illuminate the consequences of judging the wrong way. It shows us how hurtful we can be when we fix our attention on the petty injustices we perceive while neglecting the kindness or innocence that was intended.
“The World’s Bible” by Annie Johnson Flint
New Jersey poet Flint (1866—1932) was also a teacher. Her verse uplifted many in her lifetime and continues to do so today. The opening lines of “The World’s Bible” (“Christ has no hands but our hands to do his work today”) are an inspirational sermon by themselves. And the poem’s theme—that our life is the only Bible some people will ever read—is one I continually try to instill in the students of my youth group.
“What if our tongues are speaking of things His lips would spurn” reminds us that failing to judge others by their best intentions can cast a heavy shadow over the “light” that Christ wants us to “let shine.”
Recommended Reading
This blog entry from the C.S. Lewis Institute includes tremendous insight from Lewis himself on the danger of judging others.
Thank you for reading!
August for teachers is always a month of hope and promise! I’m looking forward to a wonderful school year with my youth group and my eighth graders, among whom is my own niece. Thank you for sharing the hope and promise with me through Graceful Intrusions!
So true!