Q. A friend of mine has terrible judgment. He is always making the same predictable decisions, impulses, really, that always have the same miserable results. I often wonder if he’s even aware of his behaviours, even knows the patterns he’s established. How do you tell a friend like this that they have terrible judgment?
A: Nothing is more difficult than understanding the incomprehension of others. You’ve likely considered advising this friend that life is too short to spend time listening to melodic variations on an obvious error, but suspect that he simply won’t hear you. And with good reason: to believe that an obvious truth, clearly expressed, should be convincing, is no more than a naive prejudice.
Does he buy too many books? Is he in the habit of refusing positions in government and academia that might compromise his social, political, and intellectual freedom, leaving him surrounded by books in a tiny Colombian town rather than talking to imbeciles in some European salon? You have not specified just what judgments this friend has made, or exactly what patterns he has established. Maybe they mirror your own? Often, our neighbor irritates us because he seems to us like a parody of our own defects. At any rate, lasting friendships usually require a shared laziness. Provided he isn’t hurting anyone but himself, you might consider saying nothing at all, lest you lose your friend entirely. The desire of men to be guided, led, and redeemed is comparable only to the hatred they have for those who guide, lead, and redeem them. Let us learn to accompany those we love in their errors, without becoming their accomplices.
However, if he is causing others, perhaps yourself, considerable distress: anybody has the right to be stupid, but not to demand that we revere his stupidity. You may find that you can’t fix this friend, reason with this friend, or remain a friend to this friend. But don’t lose your cool, as that will only cause a scene and nobody will come away from that any wiser. A little patience in dealing with the fool helps us avoid sacrificing our good manners to our convictions. And if you must drift apart, take heart: even the greatest fool experiences nights during which his defenses against the truth waver.
Alana Solomon is a grateful college dropout, burgeoning iconographer, seminary wife, cassock mender, former hobo, and hopeful future Matuskha, currently watching birds in NEPA.
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