Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday, 24 Oct 2024, 09:22
Image generated with the assistance of Copilot
By nature, I withdraw
from proud, self-righteous people—traits we all encounter, both in others and
ourselves.
I once knew someone who
often began a sentence with, “Well, you wouldn’t know this, but…”
Whether it's the
Pharisees of Jesus’ day or modern attitudes, the same patterns emerge:
judgment, superiority, and control. While I get frustrated when I see these
traits in others, I’ve had to acknowledge them in myself.
The Pharisees were
religious leaders known for strictly following the Law of Moses. They believed
they were society’s moral benchmarks. But Jesus saw through their façade. In
Matthew 23, He called them “whitewashed tombs”—clean on the outside, but dead inside.
Fixated on rules, they missed the heart of the law: mercy, justice, and love.
Their self-righteousness wasn’t about honouring God; it was about preserving
their status.
Reflecting on that, I see
how easily I can slip into similar patterns. The Pharisees clung to their
beliefs out of fear—fear of losing control, of being wrong, of being exposed.
When I get caught in self-righteousness, it’s often rooted in that same fear. I
may hold onto my ideas or principles, not from conviction, but to avoid
vulnerability and admitting I don’t have all the answers.
Self-righteousness often
starts with good intentions. We want to live rightly and honour our beliefs.
But when it turns into comparing ourselves to others, it shifts. Instead of
focusing on personal growth, we look down on those who don’t meet our
standards. The Pharisees mastered this, using their strict rule-following to
judge others.
So, how do we handle
self-righteousness—in others and ourselves? The instinct is to meet judgment
with judgment, but that only deepens the problem. When I feel self-righteous, I
try to step back and ask, “What am I afraid of? Why do I need to feel ‘better’
than someone else?” Understanding the fear or insecurity behind
self-righteousness helps me approach others with more empathy and less anger.
Jesus set the example in
how He dealt with the Pharisees. Yes, He called out their hypocrisy, but His
aim was to wake them up, not shame them. When I encounter self-righteousness, I
try to follow that approach—challenging where necessary, but with the goal of
healing, not tearing down. Of course, I must be careful not to become
self-righteous in the process! That’s where Jesus’ words about removing the
plank from my own eye before addressing someone else’s speck (Matthew 7) come
into play. I must check my heart first.
Setting boundaries is
also crucial. Sometimes, despite all the grace and patience I can offer, people
won’t change. In those moments, it’s okay to step back. Jesus did this with the
Pharisees too, withdrawing when they refused to listen. Protecting my peace and
spiritual well-being means knowing when to engage and when to let go.
The cure for
self-righteousness, in myself or others, is humility. Paul wrote to the
Philippians, using the Greek word tapeinophrosune—literally "to
make the mind low." It’s a beautiful metaphor for humility, the antidote
to self-righteousness: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or empty pride, but
in humility consider others more important than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3).
Recognizing that none of
us has it all figured out is okay. Rooting out self-righteousness takes time.
True righteousness isn’t something I can earn or enforce; it’s a gift of grace.
When I embrace that, I can live with more freedom and less judgment—both
towards others and myself.
Tapeinophrosune, I Like That Phrase
Image generated with the assistance of Copilot
By nature, I withdraw from proud, self-righteous people—traits we all encounter, both in others and ourselves.
I once knew someone who often began a sentence with, “Well, you wouldn’t know this, but…”
Whether it's the Pharisees of Jesus’ day or modern attitudes, the same patterns emerge: judgment, superiority, and control. While I get frustrated when I see these traits in others, I’ve had to acknowledge them in myself.
The Pharisees were religious leaders known for strictly following the Law of Moses. They believed they were society’s moral benchmarks. But Jesus saw through their façade. In Matthew 23, He called them “whitewashed tombs”—clean on the outside, but dead inside. Fixated on rules, they missed the heart of the law: mercy, justice, and love. Their self-righteousness wasn’t about honouring God; it was about preserving their status.
Reflecting on that, I see how easily I can slip into similar patterns. The Pharisees clung to their beliefs out of fear—fear of losing control, of being wrong, of being exposed. When I get caught in self-righteousness, it’s often rooted in that same fear. I may hold onto my ideas or principles, not from conviction, but to avoid vulnerability and admitting I don’t have all the answers.
Self-righteousness often starts with good intentions. We want to live rightly and honour our beliefs. But when it turns into comparing ourselves to others, it shifts. Instead of focusing on personal growth, we look down on those who don’t meet our standards. The Pharisees mastered this, using their strict rule-following to judge others.
So, how do we handle self-righteousness—in others and ourselves? The instinct is to meet judgment with judgment, but that only deepens the problem. When I feel self-righteous, I try to step back and ask, “What am I afraid of? Why do I need to feel ‘better’ than someone else?” Understanding the fear or insecurity behind self-righteousness helps me approach others with more empathy and less anger.
Jesus set the example in how He dealt with the Pharisees. Yes, He called out their hypocrisy, but His aim was to wake them up, not shame them. When I encounter self-righteousness, I try to follow that approach—challenging where necessary, but with the goal of healing, not tearing down. Of course, I must be careful not to become self-righteous in the process! That’s where Jesus’ words about removing the plank from my own eye before addressing someone else’s speck (Matthew 7) come into play. I must check my heart first.
Setting boundaries is also crucial. Sometimes, despite all the grace and patience I can offer, people won’t change. In those moments, it’s okay to step back. Jesus did this with the Pharisees too, withdrawing when they refused to listen. Protecting my peace and spiritual well-being means knowing when to engage and when to let go.
The cure for self-righteousness, in myself or others, is humility. Paul wrote to the Philippians, using the Greek word tapeinophrosune—literally "to make the mind low." It’s a beautiful metaphor for humility, the antidote to self-righteousness: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or empty pride, but in humility consider others more important than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3).
Recognizing that none of us has it all figured out is okay. Rooting out self-righteousness takes time. True righteousness isn’t something I can earn or enforce; it’s a gift of grace. When I embrace that, I can live with more freedom and less judgment—both towards others and myself.