I am struck by this line from the Old Testament reading: “Praise no one before he speaks, for it is then that people are tested.” I think we often use the phrase “reserve judgment” to mean that we should think the best of people until we are proven otherwise, but I think there’s a wisdom in the reverse being true as well. There’s a reason we conduct interviews for jobs, why we host debates for our political leaders, why we go on dates and talk – what is this person going to say? Is it wisdom or insanity?

We certainly do owe people the benefit of not making assumptions until we have more information, but we owe ourselves that same courtesy. Do not assume good or ill, virtue or evil, but approach strangers with just enough suspicion to keep yourself safe. Simultaneously, treat this stranger with respect and dignity as is befitting all people. But this advice goes beyond strangers, for sometimes we find ourselves, in employment and politics and other areas as well, faced with people we think we know but do not really know very well at all. 

How much studying do we do for our political candidates? Do we just walk into the booth and select all the “D” or “R” candidates? Or have we learned something about each office and each candidate? And when we celebrate the victory of our candidate, do we own our votes when those candidates fail us? 

But the readings are not really about how we judge (or fail to judge) other people: we are the ones being tested, specifically and individually, as the Gospel reading reminds us. How can I judge others if I would fail the test myself?

I know it’s all well and good for us to demand that our leaders be “better” than we are, but there’s something really false about expecting that our political leaders be morally superior to their constituents. Ideally, political leaders come from the communities they represent; ideally, political leaders are the people they govern. There is something false about confronting our representatives and saying, “I know we are terrible, but you should be better.” How much more powerful is it if you, as a good and courageous person, can confront your political leaders with, “I am a good person, and I demand that you be one too”? 

We have to be able to pass the tests we use for other people – I am being tested, and so are you. We have to turn all of this inward and consider our own virtues – our wisdom, our courage, our capacity for kindness, our willingness to do what is right – and think about how we will perform when the moment actually comes. 

Sometimes the test is planned. I can prepare myself for an altercation that I know is coming. I can talk myself through it. I can consider what the other person will say to me, what I will say in response, and how I will say it. I can practice body language, demeanor, witty turns of phrase, and every other thing to make the meeting turn to my advantage. 

The real tests are not the ones we can plan for, however, but the ones that happen when we least expect them and under conditions we cannot control. How do we act when our comfort or safety are on the line? What decisions do we make when people’s lives are at risk? Do we act with selfishness, considering our own comfort and safety ahead of others’? 

That’s the real test: that’s when we really see what it is the potter put into the kiln. And if we want to pass these tests as they arise, we have to cultivate the goodness of spirit and strength of character that will carry us through when those times arrive at our doorsteps. The fruit we bear is a testament to what is really in our hearts. ~