Judge Not? Humble Access

Medieval angel holding scales of justice, illustrating Libra, the constellation of scales in the zodiac.


Judge not, lest you be judged. You will be judged by the same standards that you use to judge other people. The measure you use will be used to measure you. (Matt. 7)

Does Jesus mean, “Don’t hold anyone accountable?” Does he mean, “Don’t have any standards?” Does he mean, “Let people get away with everything?” Of course not!

St. Joseph, the foster father of Jesus and the righteous man betrothed to the Mother of God, was prudent. He took his family to Egypt to escape the murderous intent of King Herod when Jesus was 2 years old and he brought his family back to Israel when King Herod died but he didn’t just go back to the village they had lived in before. He took them to live somewhere else because Herod’s son–who was worse than his father!–was ruling over their old hometown. St. Joseph certainly used his judgement, his common sense, and prudence to decide what to do in each situation. He did not bury his head in the sand and pretend to not see what was as plain as day for the safety of his family.

Jesus is not telling us to hold no one accountable. He’s telling us to hold ourselves accountable to the same standards we use to hold everyone else accountable. Maybe I have every excuse in the book to explain why I am late–the subway went out of service, it was pouring rain, there were no taxis, the bus got stuck in traffic–but then I get furious when someone else is late and makes me wait. Maybe I want to through someone in proverbial jail when they do something that I allow myself to do all the time. Maybe I am always the victim. Maybe it’s never my fault. Is that realistic? Is that honest?

Being honest is not about masochism and beating ourselves up for things we think we can’t help. It’s a simple statement of fact, like the opening lines of the Prayer of Humble Access:

We do not presume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness but in thy manifold and great mercy. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs from under thy table ….

This is not masochistic wallowing in guilt; it is a simple statement of fact.

Jesus is telling us to be humane. He’s telling us to be human. He’s telling us to be honest and admit that we fall short of our own standards and can’t expect other people to live up to standards or follow rules that we can’t–or simply choose not to–follow. He’s underscoring the importance of holding ourselves accountable the same way we want to hold everyone else accountable: “Our Father …. forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

From the writing of Dorothy Day

“Today, you will be with me in Paradise”

Christ risen from the dead with the Good Thief about to enter Paradise, showing the cross to the flaming cherubim guarding the gates, as his “admission ticket.”


“Today, you will be with me in paradise.” If we approach the chalice with the self-examination, the reorientation of our lives, the words of the thief—Remember me in your kingdom—Christ makes the same promise to us: Today you will be with me in paradise. Today you will begin to live forever.

What does that even mean, that we will be “with him in paradise,” that we “will live forever?” We sometimes think that eternal life is just like the life we know now… but rather than walking around on earth for some finite period, we will be walking around paradise for “an eternity,” that time will simply be stretched out and stretched out and simply go on much like it does now on earth but without ever having an end in sight.

But eternity—the “forever” of the Kingdom of God—is not simply a very long time that simply never stops. “Eternity” and “eternal life” is simply always NOW. There is no time—not long, not short, not never-ending—just NOW and its quality is as different from what we currently experience as life in the womb differs from life after we are born. It’s impossible for us to understand what eternity and paradise are like just as it is impossible for a baby in the womb to know what to expect when it emerges out into the world.

Corpus Christi 2023, part 2

One of things that scared those who denied Christ’s presence in the Eucharist was that if true—if Christ is really and truly present somehow in the Eucharistic bread and wine—then how could anyone dare to receive it? How could anyone of us dare to stretch out their hands or open their mouths unless they were as pure as the angels themselves?

Taking St. Paul’s admonition seriously, without discerning the body—without adequate self-examination and preparation to receive the Eucharist—a person would be eating and drinking judgement on themselves. And the people who denied that Christ is present in the Eucharist weren’t wrong to be frightened. It is an awesome thing to dare to reach out and touch—much less, consume!—the bread of the Eucharist if it truly is Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ.

But St. Paul didn’t say the Corinthians had to be pure or sinless. He said they had to be worthy. Worthiness is a very different thing. To be worthy to touch, to be worthy to consume the Body of Christ does not mean to be sinless. As several English theologians in the 1600s and 1700s pointed out, to be worthy is to be committed to self-examination, committed to repentance, committed to always turning around, changing direction, re-orienting myself towards Christ.

So I must always prepare to approach the Table by examining myself, reviewing what I have done and who I have been during the time since I last approached the Holy Table. Examine myself, measure myself against our standard—which is Christ—and determine how I might, in perhaps some single small way, turn my back on that person that I do not want to be and take some small step closer to being the person I was made to be in Christ.

To be worthy of receiving Holy Communion, to dare to touch the Corpus Christi, I must be committed to self-examination and repentance. One of those English theologians, Simon Patrick[1] in 1660, suggested using a phrase from the Gospel that Greek and Russian Christians use as they approach the chalice: “Lord, remember me when you come in your kingdom.”

The thief crucified with Christ acknowledged Jesus as Lord and reoriented his life—turning his back on his image of himself as a victim who was owed whatever he could take from other people—and he asked Jesus to make a place for him in the Kingdom. What was Jesus’ answer? “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” If we approach the chalice with the self-examination, the reorientation of our lives, the words of the thief—Remember me in your kingdom—Christ makes the same promise to us: Today you will be with me in paradise. Today you will begin to live forever.


[1] Bishop of Ely, Mensa Mystica, or a Discourse concerning the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. (Prayer Book Spirituality, p. 283)