Jane Austen and the Pharisee

When I started covering, I instantly noticed how the covering reminded me to watch my tongue. It's difficult to stand around in full modest garb and cuss like a sailor, or yell at the kids, or gossip. I would feel the weight of the covering even more distinctly, and I would remember that if I'm going to dress the part, I have to act gentle and humble, too.

I'm getting too used to the covering. It's second nature now. I would never think of going out in public without one. It's just who I am. I don't even notice it's there half the time. And that is the problem...

As I was listening to the sermon yesterday for the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee, I thought about my pride. I am too much like the Pharisee who is so very grateful that he is better than everyone else. I looked around the room, and I was reminded of all my snap judgments. I had jumped to a conclusion about almost every person there. I had neatly categorized them into the sorting compartments in my head. Certain people go in certain places, and some of those places are not pleasant to be. I judge too quickly and talk too freely. I do not cover my neighbor's sins but expose them, while my sin's stay deeply hidden.

I have a gnawing hunger to know the details of anyone's story. Probably two-thirds of that is my Southern roots, where knowing everyone's business is an accepted and celebrated pastime. When I moved north, I was surprised at the tight lips. In Kentucky, I could spend five minutes in a room full of women and come out with all the details regarding their husbands, birth stories, and opinions about people not present. Not so up here. People still talk, but they just take a bit longer to get the gossip wheel turning.

If there's a story to be told, I want to know it. Curiosity killed this cat---more than once. Still I listen for the juicy stories. Still I re-categorize the people in my life based on what I hear. Still I put myself ever higher than the rest, safe and comfortable in my "thank God that I am not like them" haven.

Last night, I watched the BBC version of Sense and Sensibility. Will they take away my English degree or my female identification card if I admit that I have not always been a Jane Austen fan? I ultimately respect and enjoy her work, but sometimes I get so annoyed at her characters. Austen's books are set in a time and a place where people held their tongues, and it caused huge messes of misunderstandings. Even though I knew the outcome, I just wanted to yell at Elinor to hurry up and tell him you love him already!!! Quit trying to be a lady and just say what you mean. Save everyone mountains of trouble.

But does it? Does talking make things easier or more difficult? I think I've been too bold and mouthy to avoid misunderstanding lately, and it just leads to deeper trouble. I think I've been too quick to talk and slow to listen. Too quick to judge and slow to acknowledge my own sins. Too much like the Pharisee and not at all like the Publican. The Pharisee thanked God that he was not like other men, but all the Publican could do was beat his chest and cry, "God be merciful to me, a sinner."

How do other people see me? What impression am I giving? Is my chin lifted to the sky in self-righteousness, or is my head bowed in repentance? Is my mouth running like a raging river, or is it closed to listen? Is my tongue wagging its opinion about everyone and everything or is it saying, "God be merciful to me, a sinner"?

Covering my head isn't enough. I have to cover my tongue. If I can just get it to stay still long enough to put on the covering!