Friends, my brain aches in the best of ways because for the last few weeks, I’ve been taking summer courses with the Hertog Foundation, and golly gosh have I been made to think. 

It’s been a truly wonderful experience, and anyone interested in Great Books or political philosophy should definitely give them a look (it’s all expenses paid, so really, there’s no excuse)!

Anyways, this last week, we were reading Sophocles’ Antigone, and one scene in particular really, really stuck out to me as a great case study in how to take critiques. 

Or, rather, how not to take critiques because the critique-ee in question, King Creon, is a total donkey.

Stubborn would be putting it mildly.

At least initially.

If you haven’t read the play, let me set the scene:

King Creon, having sentenced his niece Antigone to die for violating his prohibition against burying her brother Polyneices, a traitor, in Creon’s eyes, is approached by three people who tell him he’s making a mistake, and by the time he listens to them, it’s too little, too late.

Antigone dies, and Creon’s son and wife commit suicide.

All because he wouldn’t swallow his pride.

*Sigh.

However, we can’t be too hard on Creon.

After all, I think it’s a general fact of life that no one particularly likes being criticized.

We are all, at least to some extent, “wise in our own eyes,” so when criticism comes, our first reaction is to pop off. 

“Who are you to tell me x, y, and/or z?”

“You think you’re better than me?” 

“I bet you’re just trying to get something or manipulate me!” 

I know I’ve certainly been guilty of thinking, even saying, those kinds of things when people have criticized me.

But, friends.

I speak from experience when I say that being prideful and poo-pooing or denouncing your critics as inferior and/or malicious hacks is a surefire way to ensure life bites you right in the–

Personally, I’ve found that more often than not, if I’d taken people’s criticism seriously, I would have spared myself a lot of growing pains and more than a little heartache.

Which is why, at the end of the play when Creon tells the audience,

“I have learned in sorrow,”

I’m like AMEN!

Amen. Amen. Amen.

But boy do I wish I didn’t relate to that.

So friends, today I would like to share what has helped me, a prideful butthead by nature, really listen to and take critiques by analyzing King Creon’s failure to do just that in Antigone.

In brief, when criticism comes, there are three big questions you should ask, and if one or more of them are answered affirmatively, you’ll really want to stop and think on what’s just been said instead of acting like a prideful butthead.

They are as follows:

1. Does My Critic Want Good For Me?
2. Do They Speak From A Place Of Authority?
3. Are They One Of Many?

Let’s crack in!

1. Does My Critic Want Good For Me?

In Antigone, Creon’s first critic is none other than his son, Haemon, who early on tells him,

“Father, your welfare is my greatest good.”

That alone should have given Creon pause.

Tellingly, it did not.

That’s a problem.

Because if he’s unwilling to listen to the critique of someone who has his best interests at heart, odds are good he’s just being stubborn.

And frankly, if there’s one question of the three that’s the most important when it comes to taking critiques, “Does my critic want good for me” is the biggie.

If you can answer “yes” to this question, I can pretty much guarantee you need to really listen to the given critique.

For me, this means that when my friends, family, and/or people who are mentoring me let me know that they see something in me or my life that doesn’t seem right, I’m all ears.

Because even though it might be hard, even excruciating, to hear, I know that at the end of the day, their heart is for me, and while we might ultimately disagree, their critique is a sign of love for me.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:

Sometimes love says “no,” and you want people in your life who will lovingly tell you when you’re driving off the road.

2. Do They Speak From A Place Of Authority?

This might be the asian in me, but I’m a big believer in listening to your elders and appreciating experience and expertise.

In my mind, “The Three E’s” connote authority, which means that when anyone in possession of any or all of the three critiques me, I’m at least listening since odds are good they know more than me.

This is why when Creon’s second critic, a wizened and well-respected prophet called Teiresias, came on the scene, I was like,

“Oh snap… you better listen to him. He’s got all three E’s.”

But of course, Creon, being a donkey, does no such thing, accusing Teiresias of accepting bribes and other unscrupulous things.

To which Teiresias replies,

“Stubbornness and stupidity are twins.”

Amen.

Friends, when someone with any amalgamation of “The Three E’s” sees something in your life that they feel the need to criticize, it behooves you to at least consider their advice.

3. Are They One Of Many? 

The third and final question you want to ask has to do with the quantity of the people that are taking you to task.

Because even if you don’t think they want good for you…

Even if you think they’re a total dodo…

If they’re the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, etc. person who’s seen fit to say something to you, you’re going to want to stop and ask if maybe they’re spitting facts.

Now, I’ve written about how to deal with an onslaught of criticism in the past, so suffice to say that I don’t think a large quantity of critics necessarily means they’re correct.

However, if different people at different times are all giving you the same advice, it’s worth a listen.

A word of caution, though.

If you’re at the point where multiple people, in isolation, have given you the same advice, you might be running out of time.

That’s what happened to Creon.

In his case, it was the Chorus Leader that finally broke the donkey’s back, convincing Creon to listen to the criticism both his son and Teiresias had already brought before him.

Unfortunately, as has already been said, it was too little, too late by then.

Antigone was already dead.

Creon had hemmed and hawed for too long, ignoring loving, authoritative criticism, and he was made to pay the price, losing his son and his wife.

Such is the consequence of being “wise in your own eyes.”

All that to say…

Friends, if you repair to the top of this page, you will see that “Cultiv8ing Character” is predicated on the belief that it is never too late to change.

However, you have to want to change, and sometimes that means listening and really taking the criticism that comes your way.

SO!

The next time criticism comes, ask yourself…

1. Does My Critic Want Good For Me?
2. Do They Speak From A Place Of Authority?
3. Are They One Of Many?

And if the answer to one or more of these is yes, consider carefully whether that criticism might just be something you need to address.

That’s all for this week!

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