When Being Right Gets in the Way
Imagine finishing dinner at home. You get up to leave while someone else begins clearing the table. “You always leave this to me,” they say. You remember washing the dishes the night before, and you say so. Soon you are both going back over the week, naming the things each of you has done. The dishes are still on the table.
You may be right about last night. Your answer has not settled who will help tonight or explained why the other person is so fed up. The conversation began with work that needed doing. Now each of you is trying to get credit for what you have already done.
This is how being right can get in the way. We find a mistake in what someone says and answer that mistake so thoroughly that we never deal with the concern that brought it up. The other person may have exaggerated. There may still be something worth hearing.
It is easy to see why we defend ourselves. “You always leave this to me” can sound like a judgment on our whole character. We want credit for the work we do, especially when we are tired ourselves. Remembering yesterday’s dishes gives us something definite to say in our defense. Admitting that the person before us needs help can feel like admitting the accusation was fair.
Yet those are separate things. We can acknowledge that someone is exhausted without agreeing that we never help. We can discover that an arrangement has become unfair without deciding that either person is selfish. Once we allow for that, there is more to discuss than which of us remembers the week correctly.
Saint Benedict keeps truthfulness and love together in chapter 4 of his Rule, a guide for monastic life. Among his instructions are “Do not abandon love” and “Speak the truth from your heart and with your mouth.” He expects the monks to practice both within the community where they live and work. The people who need their honesty are also the people they are called to love.
That gives us a way to think about the conversation after dinner. Telling the truth about what we have done matters. So does our response to the person who is struggling with what remains. Love asks us to take their difficulty seriously enough to find out what it is. We cannot do that if every sentence they speak becomes something to refute.
You might begin by staying to help and suggesting that you talk about how the work is being shared. If we are worn out too, we can say so. Then both people’s limits belong in the conversation. Perhaps the work is shared fairly and tonight has simply been difficult. Perhaps one person has been doing more than either realized. Listening leaves us able to discover which is true.
The unfair words may also need attention. We can explain that being told we never help makes it harder to talk about what needs changing. But we do not have to settle every accusation before responding to a need we can already see. Helping tonight does not prevent an honest conversation tomorrow.
This can be difficult even when we understand it. Resentment may linger while we help. We may still want the other person to acknowledge that we were right about yesterday. We can ask God for help staying attentive to someone we love when we feel unfairly treated.
Over time, being heard may make it easier for both people to speak more fairly. There is no guarantee that one generous response will change a familiar argument. We can, however, stop treating a mistake in someone’s wording as a reason to disregard everything they are trying to tell us.
What might I be missing when I am busy proving that someone else is wrong?
Rule of Saint Benedict, chapter 4, Brian Junyor’s 2026 English edition.