The Epidemic of Condemnation

Protopriest Alexander Ilyashenko

 

 

One of the most widespread sins today is condemnation. To speak in medical terms, this is not merely an epidemic but a pandemic—that is, a universal affliction. All of us appropriate for ourselves what belongs to the Lord God alone. The Lord is the all-righteous Judge, the all-knowing Judge; the Lord knows all, is aware of all. The Lord takes into account every smallest circumstance. And all mitigating factors He considers, in order to have mercy on us.

We, however, who know nothing and see only the negative, often pronounce judgment on our neighbor—moreover, this judgment is final and not subject to appeal. And the person doesn’t even know why others have become cold toward him, why they have become unfriendly, why they have stopped paying attention to him. No one particularly tries to explain. There is nothing to explain in human terms, because condemnation is a sin. And to justify sin to another person is somewhat strange.

Once I was hearing confessions, and it so happened that three women came to me in a row, and each of them, having confessed and not giving me a chance to open my mouth, said: “You probably think…” I replied: “You know, my dear, please never think that I think what you think I think. I couldn’t even have thought it; it never crossed my mind.” And I also added: “You’re probably very discerning, you read my thoughts, but I assure you, you see only the negative, and you don’t see the positive.” There is not enough discernment for the positive. We have negative discernment. We see only the bad, somehow calculating through secret means that a person has something terrible in their mind—and we base our interaction with them on this as though it were a fact.

So then, one must watch one’s thoughts strictly; one must absolutely forbid oneself to condemn anyone or to assume the right to judge the actions of a person whose actions are the result of a vast complex and confluence of circumstances. Something was important to him, and perhaps, when he acted, he thought he was doing the right thing—or perhaps he didn’t even realize he was making a mistake. But we forgive him nothing. No mitigating circumstances. On the contrary, drop by drop it accumulates, and it all gathers into a vast lake filled with the poisoned water of condemnation.

Or, as one priest used to say, we see the specks in our neighbor’s eye and, without seeing the beam in our own, we try to remove those specks from our neighbor’s eye. And this gives rise to a huge, rotting heap of refuse—sinful refuse that clogs our soul. And it often happens that some particular sin, even if it is truly heavy, is much easier to get rid of—along with its consequences—than a pile of petty sinfulness. Because in the latter case, it’s the soul itself that is improperly disposed.

It is difficult to catch oneself in the act of truly having condemned someone, because you’ve grown used to condemning. One must make special efforts not to condemn, not to let that sinful contagion penetrate into the soul.

One recalls an incident that took place at Optina Hermitage before the revolution. After the death of Father Ambrose, one of the brothers came to the head of the skete and said: “Listen, what kind of disgrace is going on here? A woman visits such-and-such a brother at night. This is terrible—so many years in the monastery... What have we come to.”

The head of the skete summoned that monk and said, “What is this? What’s going on?” And he even began to weep and said, “How could you think such a thing? If Father Ambrose were alive, he would never have allowed this… So many years in the monastery, so many years in the skete, and no one ever dared to insult me with such distrust. But still, if it was seen—then it was seen.” Very well, the three of them went together around midnight, hid, and watched to see what would happen. And indeed, at midnight a woman appeared and, through a closed door, entered his cell. Then it became clear who had appeared to him [i.e., the Most Holy Theotokos]. And if they had believed the accusation—what horror, what shame, what disgrace that would have been. But they did not believe; they decided to verify.

Even contrary to what seems obvious, one must not believe in condemnation—that injustice which brazenly, insistently, and at the same time convincingly pushes its way into our minds.

I want to touch on a subject that goes hand in hand with this and, unfortunately, is rarely discussed among us. The Lord said to render righteous judgment, only righteous. To render righteous judgment is by no means easy. It requires a special grace from God.

Even in pagan Rome, the ancients formulated the principle of the presumption of innocence. I often ask people: what is the presumption of innocence? And in ninety percent of cases, I receive no answer. Yet this is a principle which states that if a person’s guilt has not been convincingly proven by a free, fair, independent, and public trial, then one must regard that person as innocent until their guilt has been established.

Often, in the course of a legal proceeding, it turns out that a person is innocent, even though all the evidence seems to be against him. And a public trial presupposes that the accused has the right to defend himself—and to do so publicly. The Romans formulated the principle of the auditor: “Hear the other side.” And the defender may argue with the prosecutor, persuade, present counterarguments against the prosecutor who accuses the defendant. When it truly becomes evident to all that the person is either guilty or, on the contrary, innocent, then the court’s decision is accepted as just and final.

So then, we must not forget these principles. One must not proceed from the principle of the presumption of guilt. Yet when we condemn, we act precisely from that principle. A person cannot justify himself, cannot defend himself—he doesn’t even understand what he is being condemned for.

The most terrifying scourge of modern man is the certainty that he has the right to condemn everyone and everything. In condemning, we lose trust in one another, we lose the warmth of relationships, sincerity, the hope that a person will not let us down. People become strangers and hostile to us, although this is merely the result of our own sinfulness.

May God grant us to realize this and begin to treat one another with goodwill. One can always ask: tell me, please, am I understanding correctly that such and such is the case? He will tell you: no, you are mistaken, that has nothing to do with me. Or one can ask differently: tell me, please, how do you see this? Ask the question in such a way that the person himself gives you the answer.

When I became a priest and began to hear confessions, I realized that another one of the most widespread sins today is the sin of fornication. A person comes and confesses certain sins. I can see it is his first time. Since fornication is a common sin, I might want to ask: tell me, please, are you married? Married. And from there I could ask in different ways. I could formulate it like this: “Do you cheat on your wife?” But that’s an offensive formulation! After all, it can be asked differently: “Are you faithful to your wife?” Such a formulation, on the contrary, is respectful. By asking this way, you uphold that very presumption of innocence.

 

Russian source: http://internetsobor.org/index.php/stati/iz-raznykh-istochnikov/epidemiya-osuzhdeniya