Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, when you judge others; for in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things (v. 1).
I hate hypocrisy. I can’t stand it when one’s actions do not match one’s words, when one lives a life without integrity. I especially hate it when I see it in myself.
Yes, I am a hypocrite. From time to time I must admit that my intentions and my actions do not line up, and the things that I profess in public I violate or ignore in private. I have even been known to pass judgment on another person for some infraction, and then turn around and do the very same thing myself. I hate it when I catch myself doing these things, and I seek to root out the hypocrisy wherever I can find it, but in the end I have to confess that I am, more often than I would like to acknowledge, a hypocrite.
The word hypocrite comes from the world of theater. In Greek, hypokrites refers to a stage actor, but it also carries the meanings of pretender or dissembler. In a Greek play, the same actor could portray different characters simply by donning different masks. That idea has made its way to us; one of the adjectives we use to describe a hypocrite is “two-faced.” One face we wear in public and the other in private, and sometimes the two faces don’t resemble each other in the least.
In the second chapter of his letter to the church in Rome, Paul links hypocrisy with spiritual arrogance. He writes, “Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, when you judge others; for in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things” (v. 1). Judging others is a sure sign of spiritual arrogance, and doing the things for which you condemn others is the very definition of hypocrisy. If I’m honest with myself, I must admit that both categories apply to me at one time or another. It’s like the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector: as soon as I condemn the Pharisee for his spiritual arrogance, I spring the trap and find myself condemned for the very same infraction.
Fortunately (or better, graciously), God offers us a way out of this mess. In fact, that’s Paul’s whole point in the first three chapters of Romans. He builds a case that everyone, whether Jew or Gentile, whether upstanding or lowdown, whether pillar of the community or town drunk, has sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Rom 3:23). Everybody—every last blessed one of us—is in need of a savior. That’s what Paul wants us to see: we have all screwed up, we’re all spiritually arrogant or hypocritical or sinful or what-have-you. We’re all in the same boat, and the boat is sinking.
But then comes the good news: God has offered us forgiveness and justification through God’s son. Because of the faithfulness of Jesus in his life, death, and resurrection, we have access to a righteousness we do not have to earn and we cannot fake. All we need to do to receive this forgiveness is to be honest with God—to acknowledge our sin and our need for a savior. We hypocrites need a strong dose of self-examination that leads to repentance, and what better time to do that work than in the season of Lent?
We can walk in integrity and humility. We can learn to wear just one face and throw away the mask. But we cannot do it on our own. Thanks be to God, who gives us the gift of grace through God’s son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Our Savior.
Grace and peace,
bob