If our eyes hurt, is it because the beam in our own eyes bothers us as we focus our attention on the mote in our friend’s eye?

finger pointingOver coffee in a cozy restaurant, my friend Margie was talking about an acquaintance. “All she ever does is complain about her physical condition,” she said. “If not her allergies, her bad back. If not her back, her heavy periods. She’d probably feel better If she didn’t discuss them so much.” I agreed, and we continued our conversation, which consisted, you guessed it, primarily of Margie’s analysis of the current state of her own health.

Another day, another friend on the telephone. We’d reconnected with a third woman after several years. “I remember now why I stopped seeing her,” said Jolie. “She depresses me. She never has anything happy or interesting to say. Complain, complain about how this person was rude and that relative treated her like dirt.” Then Jolie updated me on the status of her sister after a recent visit (it went badly and the sister was boring) as well as a new neighbor (ill-mannered, always borrowing tools).

A former boss believed in honesty along with positive and instructive critiques. He claimed. But woe be to the employee who, like me, mentioned a case in which other workers had a valid complaint and suggestion for improvement. He went into defensive attack mode. To hell with working for change.

After incidents like these, I started noticing a phenomenon. If someone complained about a personality trait in others, sure enough, the moaner demonstrated that same characteristic. Like my co-worker—candid, brusque, eccentric in her appearance—with nothing good to report about another woman, who actually was much the same as she, simply  thirty years older.

What’s up? We seem eager to identify flaws in others but not ourselves. Don’t blame contemporary society and self-centered Gen Xers. The phenomenon is mentioned in the Bible’s “Sermon on the Mount,” and addresses the mote in your brother’s eye vs the beam in your own.

My first inclination is to inform whiners of the errors of their ways. But when I observed informants, I realized they were as annoying and blind as the complainants. Like the relative who continually criticizes me for offering my suggestions for improved behavior (I won’t label my action as “criticisms”) to children. The pot calling the kettle black perhaps.

Those who exhibit this behavior most commonly might be accused of hypocrisy, engaging in the same behavior for which you reproach others. While in religion, hypocrisy might be a straightforward error, the psychological explanation is complex.  This area of study includes the quality of self-deception along with the action of “projection”: denying an unpleasant trait or impulse in yourself while attributing it to others. In the extreme, it may characterize a sociopath, someone who feels exempt from common social standards and responsibility. .

Now that I’ve identified this common quirk of human nature, what do I do with it? Laugh at the foible?  Find some tactful way to correct others? Probably it’s best to be vigilant about my own behavior and accept a friend or acquaintance informing me of my own shortcomings. Although this will be a challenge because the beam in my eye is blinding me.

What’s with the guy who sneaks into the house and steals small, worthless items? Doesn’t he have anything better to do?

thiefYesterday I couldn’t find the three bratwurst I’d stored in the freezer for a quick weekday dinner. I took every single bag of veggies, chicken breast, ice cube tray, and ice cream container out and rummaged thoroughly. No brats. The mysterious petty thief must have returned.  We began getting visits from this specter when my son in elementary school galumphed through the house demanding, “Where’s my ruler?” and “I can’t find my quarter. Who took it?” I’d tell him a very clever thief who specialized in sneaking into our house entered during the wee hours of the morning to take his belongings. Inevitably one us would find the missing item, and we realized the thief had re-entered to return my son’s things.

Since that time, the sneaky thief has become a regular visitor. Who else could be to blame for the dozen of pairs of my reading glasses that have gone missing? He must have one pierced earlobe, for half of a set of earrings disappears periodically. He even follows me to restaurants and snatches my scarf at least once a season. Then his coup de grace: at my mother’s apartment, my sister, brother, mother and myself fell victim to his craving for keys, for all of our sets had vanished.

I refuse to believe we’re misplacing items or are careless, although my husband uses each incident to deliver a mini-lecture on the importance of consistency. “Always put the article in the same place when you’re done with it. Then you’ll never lose it.” One study claims the average person misplaces up to nine items a day, and one-third of respondents in a poll said they spend an average of 15 minutes each day searching for items.

My husband doesn’t understand our family’s at the mercy of an unscrupulous offender. We’re lucky the villain hasn’t turned his sights on more valuable belongings, say dollar bills or cell phones.  He did enough damage with the bratwurst. I comfort myself that he probably was hungrier than anyone in the house. Needed the food more. Wasn’t just trying to drive me crazy.