Here Come Da Judge

I have so many things to write about my head is full of gallimaufry, a hodgepodge, a jumble, a confused medley that my fingers can’t type fast enough to keep up. I have no idea how many words will actually end up on the cutting room floor versus which will survive. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, wondering how this will all turn out.

If it reads like I’m catharting, you’re right. Well, that’s curious. I just looked up cathartic and it means to evacuate the bowels. I was using the word in its purging sense, but I always thought it meant emotionally.

I can tell you right up front that judgment has been the theme of the week. In the last few days:

1) I’ve been accused of judging someone.

2) I’ve been apologized to because someone else judged me.

3) I’ve imagined that other people were judging me and

4) I’ve been paid some righteous compliments.

That being said, I feel like I’m in the middle of a big judge sandwich.

Similar to Howie Mandell and his infectious fist-bump, there’s a new little virus making the circuit. I don’t know its progenitor, but the catch phrase is “let’s put a pin in that.” In context, it seems to get used when something is said that another person doesn’t want to deal with on the one hand, but doesn’t want to appear as though disregarding it on the other.

Acknowledging it on some level , they’ll say, “I hear you, but let’s put a pin in that.” I guess we are to imagine a giant floating cork board and whatever words have been spoken are to be impaled with a large pin “to be dealt with later.”

Phew! I drove you around that little cul de sac just to say I’m going to stick a pin in all that judgment stuff for a moment and introduce a little Hebrew action into my current situation. Can you guess my favorite Old Testament character? If you said the talking Donkey in Numbers 22, you’d be close, as she’s my second choice.

However, for the purpose of sorting out all this judgment energy, I’m calling out Solomon.

Solomon lived a most fascinating life, starting with his movie star parents. Most little boys think of their daddies as heroes, but in Solomon‘s case, his father, King David, was a hero of mythic proportions even in his own lifetime. Not only did he take out Goliath with one fell swoop of his slingshot, but he killed lions with his bare hands and was an epic murderer, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands,” (I Samuel 18:7).

In fact, Solomon wouldn’t have drawn a breath if his father hadn’t been driven by lust, both blood and sex. King David satisfied his dual appetites by ravaging a rooftop bather and then killing her husband. Apparently God was none too thrilled with that last detail, so took His revenge on the little love bastard by smiting it. Don’t you judge me.

The second child born of this fornicating couple, although by this time I think they might have exchanged vows, was Solomon. As an aside, wouldn’t you love to be married to a man who “took” you, murdered your husband and then because God was angry at him, caused you to lose your first born?

Anywho, as if growing up under the shadow of the Celebrity King, the stuff of which legends are made wasn’t enough, Solomon had to live with the fact that papa was a man after God’s own heart (1 Samuel 13:14.

How was such a child supposed to grow up and become a man in his own right? Well, he managed somehow, and became known as the wisest person ever to live, “No one before you was your equal, nor shall any arise after you equal to you.”

Receiving many sermons from the pulpit, my little antennae would tune in when Solomon was discussed for his world was lavish, extreme, filled with wine, women, song and plenty of perks. When I heard he had “700 wives, princesses, and 300 concubines,” I actually sat in the pew and worked it out mathematically. Hey, he could make love every day to a different woman for almost three years without repetition.

I sighed over all the booty he was getting, oh wait, I don’t mean all the booty calls, I meant all the treasure troves (like pirate booty) he received for his wisdom. Not only did he have access to all the secrets of the Universe, but he was wealthy beyond measure and was a rock star.

I admit it, that story impressed me in my younger years. Okay, it still does, but my thirst for Wisdom started at a very early age. Hey, just because I like the idea of being connected to God AND financially rewarded for it, don’t you judge me.

Here comes a little personal reveal: I secretly wish to be that wise. I know, the position has already been taken, but a girl can dream, right? I’ve set out to learn the difference between judgment, discernment, tolerance and acceptance since they are all intertwined.

So that we’re on the same page, I’m going briefly define: “Judgment – the ability to judge, make a decision, or form an opinion objectively, authoritatively and wisely.”
“Discernment – acuteness of judgment and understanding.”

“Tolerance – a fair and objective attitude toward those whose opinions, practices, race, religion, nationality differ from one’s own: freedom from bigotry.”

“Acceptance – the act of receiving something offered, favorable reception, approval.”

Now it’s time to take the pin out and address things directly, although not in order. I’m going to begin with #3 — that I’ve imagined other people judging me — and #4, receiving righteous compliments. And by other people, in this case, I’m specifically talking about old high school ghosts.

Suddenly, this week, by the powers vested in FaceBook, I’ve been contacted by a number of high school chums and what they’ve told me has differed wildly than what I had going on in my head. I attended a private Christian high school and graduated with about a dozen kids. It was a very small pond. The school was more of a preacher or preacher’s wife- in- training camp, and as I was not going to become either, I did not fit into the box.

And there was a lot of pressure to fit into the box. I neither rebelled nor conformed, but approached getting into the box with more of a, “No, but thanks for asking,” kind of attitude. I knew at an early age that being myself was more valuable than becoming what they wanted. I was arty then, I’m arty now. I knew I didn’t want to be a baby factory then and I didn’t become one now. I stood up for myself when required, but picked my battles strategically.

This unnerved some. An open rebel was a cause they could understand, or living a life with the lid closed was another familiar path, but choosing to be oneself in the midst of heavy duty conforming pressure without wildly rebelling was something altogether alarming.

The upshot is that several of those I’ve communicated with told me that my path seems like the better option with 20-20 hindsight. In the intervening years, they buckled under so completely, that they’ve had to literally destroy the box — their lives, in order to get out and start living an authentic life.

Even though I had a few early detractors, that only served to reinforce my resolve. Although it’s had a few thorns, my path now holds a new sparkle that I didn’t see before.

I’m not living with a secret. I don’t long to break out and finally live my true self, as I have already committed to that.

Now for a glimpse into this week’s righteous compliments… “I give you props for knowing who you are and being comfortable in your own skin. In a world of conformists, it’s refreshing to know those people who can say ‘This is who I am. I’m not afraid to be a little less conventional and it’s okay.”

From somebody else, “I have so much more respect for you now. I can see that you are comfortable in your own skin.” (Whoa, two different people, two different conversations!)

And another, “You seem like a person who does not go to grouping once a week to get fed, but is constantly connected to God. You don’t seem to compartmentalize your life, but instead approach your art with spirituality, your spirituality with art, your creativity just flows into everything you do.”

Can you stomach one more? “Judgment is simply having an opinion about something, and while you may have your opinions, you are very tolerant and accepting.”

Okay, before you gag, I tell you this to process it, and for your own sakes. Seriously. I had all this judgy stuff built up in my head and as it turns out, it was mostly my imagination. Perhaps there are some of you who feel burdened by judgment. It’s so refreshing to simply ask instead of assume, the answer might surprise you.

How often do we build a case against ourselves and use other people to support it? I had not had contact with these school mates in over twenty years, yet I was accusing them in my head of being judgmental. Turns out I was wrong.

In this week, two other people volunteered heartfelt apologies for judging me. Wow, I told you there was a lot of judgment energy to suss out.

Those apologies were so empowering, I would also like to practice forgiveness. To anyone, past or present, that I have hurt by my words, by less-than-flattering images I’ve carried in my head, for releasing negative thoughts, for unkind words, for energy that made you feel less-than, and for anything that I’ve done to cause you pain, I am truly sorry.

I’d like to leave you with something Oscar Wilde taught me. “Be yourself. Everybody else is already taken.”