One of the greatest mistakes we humans make—one that we all make daily—is the sin of hypocrisy. Recall the last ten times you were hypocritical. Can you recall? Hmm.... Can you recall even one time you acted in a hypocritical manner?

When I first heard the poll in which 90 percent of Americans said they were kinder than average, I wondered about the other 10 percent. My first thought was “The 10 percent who actually go ahead and say that they aren’t kind must be really mean.” But upon further reflection, I realized that in that 10 percent reside those who are truly the kindest. It is people such as St. Paul who identify themselves as the very worst of sinners who represent the true heroes of the faith.

One hot day a few summers ago as I came into the kitchen to fix myself a glass of ice water, our daughter Emma took a cookie and popped it into the microwave for a few seconds. I had never seen her do the cookie-warming trick, and I commented, “Emma, don’t you know that it takes energy to heat up that perfectly edible cookie?” She responded, “What about you, Dad? Don’t you know that it takes energy to cool down that perfectly drinkable water?” She then thought better of her tone of voice and started to apologize. “No, you’re right,” I admitted, though my pride was wounded. And she was right. It is so easy, so tempting, to point out the hypocrisy of another, while overlooking my own.

Everyone is fairly good at seeing the shortcomings in other people, churches, movements, governments, and countries. There is certainly plenty of hypocrisy among environmentalists. I was invited to visit a woman who writes about the effects of fossil fuel consumption. I pulled up to her rural Maine home one day. Two SUVs were parked in the drive. The Maine house is one of three that she owns. All are heated year-round, and she complained about the $2,500 she had spent heating this house the previous winter. “We kept the heat turned way back, and we were here only on weekends,” she said.

As we talked, I thought to myself, “May the Lord save us from well-intended, wealthy environmentalists who want to save the planet.” One of her SUVs puts fourteen thousand pounds of greenhouse gases into the air each year. My hybrid puts out three thousand pounds a year. Our family of four spent only $550 for energy that year. My feelings of smugness and pride grew. I thought that if she didn’t change as a result of her own research and writing, how could she expect someone else to change?

The problem with this kind of thinking is that I’m comparing myself with a person of my choosing, and so I make myself feel good. While I was visiting, the writer talked disparagingly about people who drove Hummers, and I suppose the drivers of Hummers compare themselves to people who “thoughtlessly” fly everywhere, and in turn, those people feel pretty good about themselves because they don’t own their own jets.

To move from thought to action, we must feel some discomfort with who we are. We will not develop any discontent if we compare ourselves to people who behave more selfishly than ourselves. If I compare myself to someone whose sole source of transportation is a bicycle, then it’s tough to feel smug about the three thousand pounds of gases I put into the atmosphere driving a lavish hybrid automobile.

Compared to a family in the coastal town of Massade, Haiti, whose annual income is $540, who eats only two meals a day, and who cannot buy its way out of the effects of global warming, how thoughtful am I? What kind of a neighbor am I? The 1 1/2 tons of greenhouse gases my hybrid car produces contribute to the change in sea level and the fish populations on which they depend. Comparing myself to my neighbor is useful, but to which neighbor? In Jesus’s parable, the Samaritan compares himself to the mugged man. He applies the Golden Rule, and he is compelled to act.

Jesus relentlessly tells his listeners to observe the plight of their less fortunate neighbors and take steps to help. Christ asks us to change our behavior. In order to change, we’re going to have to have some benchmark to know what our behavior is. What is your behavior toward God’s creation?

If they were here today, who do you think would be more likely to say a silent prayer of thanks at the gas station—a priest or the Good Samaritan? Which one would be more likely to worry about the effects of his lifestyle on others? Who would change the lightbulbs to save lives? Are you ready to move along the path from ignorance to awareness and from compassion to action?

Matthew Sleeth serves as Blessed Earth's Executive Director and resides with his wife, Nancy, in Wilmore, KY.