SPLINTER PATROL

The gospel for Friday this past week was from Luke 6:41-42: 

Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’ when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.” 

 As I reflected on Jesus’s words I became aware of just how many of my brethren in the monastery have splinters in their eyes. Actually, a couple of people have multiple splinters. You know what I mean. This brother never puts the jelly jar back in the refrigerator. This other one never scrapes his dinner plate into the garbage, but leaves it to be washed, even though it’s still full of food scraps. Another one talks to himself half out loud much of the time. 

Yesterday, as an experiment, every time I noticed a brother doing something whose behavior I disapproved of, every time I noticed some sort of imperfection in a brother, I would whisper the word “Splinter” to myself. After just a few minutes I started to realize that everybody around me had at least one splinter and maybe more! 

The exercise was so unsettling that I quickly gave it up. (Maybe I was unconsciously influenced by the thought that all my brother monks have to look at me and see my own splinters every day?) 

In any case, not long afterward Jesus‘s words from the gospel passage began to echo in my head: “Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.”  My exercise had suddenly flipped around and was pointing back at me! 

I began trying to see the wooden plank in my own eye. This was a difficult exercise because by definition we don’t see those things easily in ourselves. I came to realize, though, that one “plank” I had just become aware of was that I too often see the splinter in my brother’s eye instead of seeing Jesus in him. Instead of seeing a person whose feet I am supposed to wash, all I see is a big splinter that irritates me. This is definitely part of my “wooden beam!” 

I'm tempted to abandon this exercise the way I abandoned my effort at seeing splinters in other people, but clearly, looking for the wooden beam that keeps me, for example, from seeing my own shortcomings or prevents me from recognizing Christ in other people is an important exercise. I better keep it up! 

 So, I’ve decided to give up the "Splinter Patrol" in favor of paying extra attention to my daily examination of conscience. 

 Welcome, Albert, to the "Wooden Beam Patrol!"