Honor be to Portia

“It is a good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.” Shakespeare’s Portia, soon-to-be wife of Bassanio, best friend to The Merchant of Venice, spoke this truth.
I wanted to write about how we often expect things of others—spouses, children, friends, the driver in front of us, our grocery store clerk—and then during poignant times of self-evaluation, find ourselves to be hypocrites.
I wanted to point out that we have no right to put “no-exceptions” expectations on other, especially children, when we ourselves, adults, fail to act in accordance with some or other of those expectations daily.
I wanted to point out that Portia must be quite the flake to say what she said about it being easier to teach twenty what is right than to make herself do what she professed to be right.
I wanted to challenge each of us here to put special effort to having more integrity and living more as we expect others to live—to stop holding back that little nuisance of a flaw that we keep holding on to. After all, perfecting ourselves would finally give us the right to point out others flaws, wouldn’t it?
I have had to humble myself numerous times in my life, but not usually to a made-up character in a play. I have decided that Portia knows more than I do. She has made an honest assessment of human nature. She must have understood that we have each been given flaws in this life that are meant to be challenging to overcome. If it were as easy to do everything right all the time as it is for us to teach others what is good and right and true, we would all be perfect right now, and there would be no reason for us to be here.
So instead of calling us all to repentance of imperfection on penalty of hellfire and damnation, I thought it wiser to call us each on a mission of mercy. If we each gave others the same grace that we wish for ourselves when we err, perhaps there would be less self-pity in our families, perhaps less broken friendships in our communities, less divorce, less suicide, less offense, less loneliness. Perhaps there would be more understanding, more self-evaluation and subsequent motivation to change, more unity, more “whole” families, more self-esteem, more obedience, more kindness, more love toward one another.
It might be the perfect time to remember a couple of things. First, as we judge others, so will we be judged. It is always the right thing to do to be merciful. Second, as we treat others, we are also treating our Savior. The only way to truly show appreciation for our Savior for what He did for us is to treat our fellow men with respect and forgiveness. If we only realized that most of the people we encounter in this life know that they have flaws and are sincerely working on them, we would be more apt to forgive and forget.
Obviously in focusing on mercy towards others, I did not intend that we neglect the pursuit of righteousness. However, maybe finding sympathy and understanding for others is the first step in truly being able to transfer our energy from being frustrated with others to transforming ourselves.
Well does Portia play her part as she forgives Bassanio his parting with the ring—the ring given him by Portia that he swore never to part with.
But is it enough? I have pondered recently on the burdens we carry when faced with the need to forgive. My wounds have been deep, and many turned to scars that I am so used to that I forget that I once was beautiful. Of course I am speaking spiritually. We speak so much of forgiveness, and I do not want to downplay its importance to each of us, but what if we could avoid some of the situations that required forgiveness? What if we chose not to judge others, not to find a reason for feeling hurt by their actions or pushed to change them to be, “more like us,” whatever that may be? What if we loved people where they were at and focused on what they had to offer us—not in a one-sided, usury sort of friendship—but in a way that says to them, “This person thinks I have worth, they are looking for my positive traits, I am comfortable with them and want to be a better person because of their influence on me.”
As our Savior was on the cross, He begged the Father’s forgiveness of the soldiers and the people who had sent Him to His death. Forgiveness is the obvious lesson from this scripture. The hidden one that was revealed to me was this: If we were more like our Savior, we would need to do more than forgive—He didn’t say, “I forgive them,” He said, “Father, forgive them.” If we want to be like Him, we will be advocates with the Father for those we meet who are imperfect. We may need to forgive first, but the extra mile is becoming their advocates. Weren’t we told to, “Pray for them that hate you?”
As Portia would say in our lingo, “Easier said than done.” I think that’s what she meant. We each preach a good sermon, but to really live it, to follow the “path less traveled,” is the ultimate test.