Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop
19 February 2025

Judge Not That You Be Not Judged
(Genesis 49, Psalm 96, Matthew 7)

Note: I make reference to Pope Francis in the following homily in a critical but not disparaging or polemical way. At the time of posting this homily, the Pope is hospitalized with double pneumonia in what is being described by his physicians as a complex case. Before reading further, I would ask you, of your mercy, to offer a prayer for our brother in Christ, Francis, who is also a father in Christ to so many of the faithful. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There are passages of Scripture that grip you and never seem to let go; you return to them again and again, perhaps as old friends and perhaps as wrestling partners — like Jacob with the angel at the Jabbok River refusing to let go until he received a blessing. These texts inspire and challenge, comfort and afflict, illumine and confuse in about equal measures, but they never disappoint, and they keep you coming back.

Amongst the Epistles, 1 Corinthians is such a text for me. I know that there is greater breadth and depth of theology in Romans, but it doesn’t call to me in the same way. Yes, Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians have more sustained, exalted Christology, and I love them; but they are not 1 Corinthians. 1 Corinthians is to me a more down-to-earth, boots-on-the-ground text: here’s what it looks like to be a Christian in a pagan world; here’s how to deal with sin and discord in the local church; here’s what it means to celebrate the Eucharist faithfully, to exercise spiritual gifts wisely, to love selflessly as God loves us. This is an Epistle for those who live in, and long to care for and love the local church and the world in a rightly ordered way.

I also have a favorite amongst the Gospels. Mark is wonderful for its sense of urgency. It’s as if St. Mark can’t speak or write fast enough to get everything down as he would like to do: Jesus did this, then he immediately went here and did that, and straightway he traveled there and did something else: always on the move, it seems. You take a deep breath and hang on when reading St. Mark. St. Luke is special for his emphasis on the least and the lost and the forgotten. We see Jesus see them, see them not as the world sees them or refuses to see them, but instead as beloved sons and daughters of the Kingdom of God. And St. John? His prologue is sublime, and Jesus’ dialogues in his Gospel are of more value than much fine gold. But it is not these Gospels that draw me most deeply; I keep coming back again to the Gospel according to St. Matthew, particularly to chapters five through seven, the Sermon on the Mount. If that were all we knew of Jesus — just the contents of that sermon — we would still be forced to account him as one of the most extraordinary men ever to walk the face of the earth, divine or not; we would be compelled to recognize that none ever taught as he taught or lived as he lived. And, if all those who claim to follow him were ever fully to live that sermon? Well, the world would be upended, turned right side up again.

So, today, we come to the final chapter of this text that continues to draw me in: Matthew 7. Approaching the whole chapter at once would be like drinking from a fire hose. So, we will look at one small — but terribly important — piece of it, the first five verses only. They speak of judgment.

Matthew 7:1–5 (ESV):

7 “Judge not, that you be not judged. 2 For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. 3 Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

Over a decade ago, Pope Francis scandalized many and delighted just as many others by exercising his unparalleled “gift” of theological ambiguity. When asked to comment on reports of homosexuals in the clergy, Pope Francis responded, “If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has good will, who am I to judge?” It is not the issue of homosexual clergy that concerns me just now, but rather that the de facto spokesman of Western Christianity would rhetorically — and a bit simplistically — ask, “Who am I to judge?” Well, sir, if you are who your predecessor popes have claimed to be, then you are the Vicar of Christ on Earth; the Keeper of the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven; the Supreme Bishop over the one holy, catholic and apostolic Church; the sole source of infallible doctrine. Now, I don’t believe that about this or any pope, but if I did, I would expect him to be able to make some judgments about faith and life, about sin and righteousness. If he honestly feels he cannot, then that presents a major problem for the Roman Catholic Church.

Let’s put an even finer point on it. If disciples of Christ are truly and absolutely forbidden to judge, then all prophetic speech and social critique, all church discipline, much pastoral care and spiritual direction, and even evangelism with its call to repentance are precluded. If disciples of Christ are truly and absolutely forbidden to judge, then St. Peter was wrong in his rebuke of Ananias and Sapphira and of Simon Magus, and St. Paul was in error, at best, or in sin, at worst, in his condemnation of Elymas the magician on Cyprus and perhaps even doubly so in his very public rebuke of St. Peter in Antioch. If disciples of Christ are truly and absolutely forbidden to judge, then in my ordination I vowed to sin against the people of God rather than to serve them when I answered “I will, the Lord being my helper,” to this question posed by the Bishop:

Will you be ready, with all faithful diligence, to banish and drive away from the Body of Christ all erroneous and strange doctrines contrary to God’s Word; and to use both public and private admonitions and exhortations, to the weak as well as the strong within your charge, as need shall require and occasion shall be given (BCP 2019, p. 491)?

So, whatever Jesus meant by saying “Judge not, that you be not judged,” it must not have been a blanket prohibition on either discerning critique, private correction, or even public censure. Matthew 18:15 and following on church discipline makes that much clear. So, how do we rightly understand Jesus’ teaching on judgment in Matthew 7: judge not that you be not judged?

Let’s begin here: human moral judgment, while necessary, is fraught with spiritual danger. The beginning of the first fall of man, was an act of erroneous human judgment: a judgment that the serpent’s words were to be trusted over God’s word; a judgment that the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good evil would not bring death but rather god-likeness; a judgment that the ability to discern between good and evil was a thing to be desired, a thing proper to human nature in the garden. It did not belong to Adam and Eve to make these judgments. Theirs was simply to obey God. Where God has already judged, there is no room for human judgment, only for obedience. Here, Jesus’ words are fitting and proper: judge not that you be not judged. Adam and Eve did judge, and they were judged. This must be a cautionary tale to all those who would follow Jesus. The question must always be asked reverently and prayerfully: Is God truly calling me to judge in this case, or am I transgressing the prerogatives that belong only to God? The question is not so much can I judge, but rather should I judge. Am I the proper one to judge? Is it safe for my soul to render judgment? Am I called to judge or to obey?

Sometimes judgment is not safe for my soul. Let’s read on in the text.

2 For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you.

I remember one time when my father decided to make hot tamales from scratch. He was a wonderful cook, and I think there were only two occasions when he ever read a recipe; one was with the hot tamales. Whether he just made an honest mistake or was so unfamiliar with recipes that he didn’t know the difference in abbreviations I have no idea, but he confused tablespoons and teaspoons when measuring out the powdered red pepper for the tamales and he ended up with three times the amount of spice and heat called for. They were painfully inedible, though he managed somehow to choke them down. With the measure he used, it was measured back to him quite literally. If I am to judge without damaging either my brother’s soul or my own soul, I have to know the difference between teaspoons and tablespoons: a teaspoon of rebuke if absolutely necessary, and a tablespoon of mercy always. We are taught by our Lord in his prayer, that as we forgive, so we will be forgiven. He doubles down on that idea here: as we judge, so shall we be judged. Then let our judgment be seasoned with mercy and measured out for the healing, not for the hurt, of souls.

Let’s take the remainder of the text as one piece.

3 Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

The key issues here are hypocrisy and discernment. Some people are scrupulous; they see themselves as sinful through and through and have an exaggerated sense of their own worthlessness before God. They probe their every thought and action for hidden sinful motivations and constantly accuse themselves falsely. This is a psychological and spiritual neurosis that must be carefully healed through prayer, spiritual direction, and possibly Christian clinical counseling. But, there is an opposite and I suspect more prevalent problem: those who seemingly never recognize their own sin, those who continually make excuses for why what they did was justified, or why there were extenuating circumstances, or why it wasn’t so bad after all since no real harm was intended. The former group, the ones plagued with scrupulosity, has a speck in the eye and sees it as an oak tree; the latter has a redwood in the eye and sees it as a dust mote. Neither group can judge rightly; both are spiritually blind, but only the latter suffers also from hypocrisy.

This tale is told of one of the greatest Desert Fathers, Moses the Black, a notorious robber and murderer turned monk. He lived his Christian life in the desert monastic community of Scetis. Once physically powerful and violent — think a Samson-like figure who could destroy many attackers with ease — after years of repentance he laid down his life as a martyr by refusing to defend himself against a band of robbers. Early on Moses had lived by the sword; transformed by Christ, he was willing to die by the sword. Here’s the tale.

A brother at Scetis committed a fault. A council was called to which Abba Moses was invited, but he refused to go to it. Then the priest sent someone to say to him, ‘Come, for everyone is waiting for you.’ So he got up and went. He took a leaking jug, filled it with water and carried it with him. The others came out to meet him and said to him, ‘What is this, Father?’ The old man said to them, ‘My sins run out behind me, and I do not see them, and today I am coming to judge the errors of another.’ When they heard that they said no more to the brother but forgave him (https://www.johnsanidopoulos.com/2010/08/wise-lessons-from-saint-moses-ethiopian.html).

Moses was aware of his own past sins, the logs that had been in his eye. By comparison, the fault of his brother was but a speck. Moses was able to judge rightly, with wisdom and discernment, and without hypocrisy.

There is much more to be said about spiritual judgment, but we have at least made a beginning of being faithful to this text.

Judgments must be made, but always against the world, the flesh, and the devil — against sin itself — and not against one’s brother or sister or any image-bearer of God. Those judgments must be made with fear for one’s own soul, with more mercy than severity, with clear eye and heart, and with spiritual integrity.

There is a prayer that I often pray privately before hearing confession. It reminds me of the seriousness of judgment, of dealing with the sins of others, and the necessity of an awareness of and repentance for my own sins.

GRANT me, O Lord, the wisdom that sits at your right hand, that I may judge your people according to the right, and the poor with equity. Grant that I may so wield the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, that I may open it to none to whom it should be shut, nor shut it to any to whom it should be opened. Give purity to my intention, sincerity to my zeal, patience to my charity, and fruit to my labors. Grant that I may be mild, yet not remiss, stern, yet not cruel. Let me neither despise the poor nor flatter the rich. Give me gentleness to draw sinners unto you, prudence in examination, wisdom in instruction. Grant me, I pray, skill to turn men aside from evil, perseverance to confirm them in good, zeal to persuade them to better things: give wisdom to my answers, rightness to my counsels: give me light in darkness, a good understanding in confusion, victory in difficulties. Let no vain conversations entangle me, nor evil defile me: let me save others and not myself be cast away. Amen.

If we must judge, then let it be done in this spirit. Amen.