Happy New Year!

Ah...I can hear the wheels turning all across America: it's New Year's Resolution Time!

Some folks give up smoking. Some folks give up meat. Some folks give up smoked meats--a two-fer, if you will.

If you're like me (And I would never wish that on anyone!), you begin the resolution process by thinking about what other people's resolutions should be. Now, lest you think I'm insane, I usually only focus on people that I know, as trying to come up with over seven billions resolutions might make me miss a ballgame on TV.
But, speaking of other people, here's a resolution worth considering: Be gracious to others. I'm speaking from personal experience here. I've also been thinking about an adult Sunday School class topic: "Judge Not", about why being judgmental comes so naturally to us, but is an incredible hindrance to peace in the world around us, as well as happiness within.
It's almost effortless to be gracious to someone who is cheerful and smiling and always ready with a compliment for us. It's quite another thing to be gracious to someone who seems rarely, if ever, satisfied with our efforts. Whether we are able to put this understanding into words, we recognize that these folks find little satisfaction in the world because they set their standards and expectations for others impossibly high. In other words, disappointment is guaranteed. I say that I speak from personal experience because this is what I (and my two brothers) witnessed firsthand in my dad.

It's a good thing that Jesus never told his followers to like other people, isn't it? He "only" told us to love each other! Well now, that seems kinda backwards, doesn't it? Liking seems so much easier than loving. But is it? To like is a choice; to love is a compulsion. We like people whom we find pleasurable to be around, or who have qualities or talents that we admire. Often times, we may never meet these people, but that doesn't stop us from liking them. And who we like reveals a lot about what we value in Life and in ourselves.
Loving someone is a completely different story. While liking someone is a rational response, a choice made with varying degrees of thought, loving someone is always irrational, whether or not we want to think of it that way. There are, of course, varying degrees and kinds of love. Love for spouse, family, and friends is a much more intimate feeling than the kind of Love the Bible demands. Love for all people--and all of Creation--is simply an acknowledgement of our connectedness, our spiritual kinship, our (sometimes) desperate need for one another. Love of this kind is based on respect, esteem, and compassion, for others, but also for ourselves. My Christian faith demands that I love everyone, even the Unloveable. And especially those I do not like! 
And at a certain point in my life, I ceased liking my dad, but continued to love him terribly. Or, as Shakespeare says about Othello, "He loved not wisely, but too well." My brothers and I grumbled constantly about our dad being a perfectionist--someone who expected everything to be flawless, even when it was painfully obvious that said perfection had never been experienced, and never would be. In our own unique ways, we all found escapes or diversions to help us keep our sanity. I don't know about my brothers, but when I look back at this strained  relationship, I see a pain other than my own. Under all the layers of anger and hatred I experienced while trying to come to terms with my pain was also the pain of another--a gift, if you will, that I certainly did not ask for!
And, late in life, it occurred to me that people who set impossible standards for others do exactly the same thing for themselves. The disappointment they feel about the faults and complications of the world around them is nothing compared to that inner judge that finds them lacking in everything they do. The constant voice of judgment that they hear wears them down until all they know how to do is show their frustration in ways that are riddled with hatred, anger, and fear. And rather than heap more judgment and damnation upon themselves, they give it to others--unwanted gifts that harm both donor and recipient.
The truly sad thing is that the one thing desperately needed is the one thing that they can neither give nor receive: compassion. That voice of judgment makes it clear that they are totally undeserving of the kindness of others. I simply cannot imagine what it must feel like on the inside to be so consumed with self-hatred that all human interaction is tinged with hatred and recrimination.

So, this year, step back. Think about what it is that motivates others to find fault with everyone and everything. Think about the enormity of pain, grief, and guilt they feel each day. The only humane response is compassion, whether or not they are able to receive it and express their gratitude. We must take comfort solely in the knowledge that we are doing the right thing, and that, perhaps, a small light has shone inside of the other, and a warm place has been kindled.