We Are All Hypocrites, Who Hate Hypocrites
And How Grace is the Antidote
The Universality of Hypocrisy in Psychology, Philosophy, and Theology
People don’t care about hypocrisy—not really. If they did, we wouldn’t see the unshakable support for leaders, celebrities, and influencers whose public virtues crumble under the weight of their private failures. Hypocrisy isn’t as repulsive as we purport—it’s familiar. We call it out in others because it reflects the parts of ourselves we don’t want to face. When we point fingers at the hypocrisy in others, we’re really trying to outrun our own. This is the irony of judgment: it’s always a double-edged sword.
“The biggest hypocrites, are the ones who spend the most time calling out hypocrisy in others.”
Andrew Fiouzi
This phenomenon is woven into the very fabric of human behavior. Jeremy Sherman explains in his Psychology Today article, How Hypocrisy Becomes the Mind-Numbing Norm, that judging the hypocrisy of others is usually some form of projection, allowing us to avoid introspection by projecting our faults onto others. He says, “To win arguments, people often draw hard lines that make their opponents sound bad and themselves sound good… People can get addicted to holy warring, whereby the more everyone wars, the holier they feel — and the holier they feel, the more they war…Failing to live by their own standards, people become hypocrites…” Sherman argues that employing moral absolutism as a defense mechanism stunts self-awareness.
Essentially, our outrage at the hypocrisy of others often serves as a psychological shield, allowing us to avoid introspection by projecting our faults onto others. When we see others failing to live up to their ideals, we’re quick to condemn—not because we’re better, but because it distracts us from our own contradictions. Instead of confronting the uncomfortable truth about ourselves, we shift the focus outward. In this way, others become mirrors of our unacknowledged failings.
But this dynamic doesn’t stop at projection; in modern society, it has become performative. MEL Magazine describes it as "meta-hypocrisy" in their article: If We’re Pretty Much All Hypocrites, Why Do We Hate Hypocrites So Much? In short, meta-hypocrisy is hypocrisy layered with self-righteousness. It’s a trap that reinforces cycles of judgment and projection, making authentic self-reflection and grace harder to achieve. Andrew Fiouzi notes that we hate hypocrites because their self-righteous moralizing falsely signals virtue. “The biggest hypocrites,” Fiouzi argues, “are the ones who spend the most time calling out hypocrisy in others.” Think of the moralizing outrage we see on social media—those claiming the highest moral ground by calling out someone else’s failures. As Fiouzi notes, this performative condemnation reveals more about the accuser than the accused.
“Meta-hypocrisy is one of the perks of what I call ‘exempt by contempt.’ You get to say, ‘I hate hypocrisy. I’m quick to point it out in others, so me a hypocrite?! Impossible. I’m exempt.’”
Jeremy Sherman
French philosopher René Girard’s scapegoat theory provides a philosophical and theological framework for understanding this impulse. Human beings, Girard argues, are psychically wired to transfer their guilt and shame onto others, creating scapegoats to bear the brunt of their communal frustrations. Giard draws from the myths and religious practices that have shaped human society all over the world and throughout history. By condemning someone else’s sins, we momentarily escape the weight of our own. As a ritual, scapegoating feels righteous, because momentarily we are able to lay our sins upon someone else. This dynamic has played out in societies for millennia, from ancient religious rituals to modern-day social media mobs. It’s not that we’ve become more judgmental; it’s that we’ve always been this way.
Scripture, too, exposes the universality of hypocrisy and the dangers of appointing ourselves as the judges of others. Jesus’ rebuke in Matthew 7:3-5—about the speck in your brother’s eye and the plank in your own—isn’t just a moral lesson. It’s a diagnosis of the human condition. The Pharisees, whom Jesus called “whitewashed tombs” (Matthew 23:27), were experts at this game. They condemned others to mask their own failings, just as we do today. Paul’s warning in Romans 2:1—“You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself”—is as relevant now as it was 2,000 years ago.
The point is clear: hypocrisy is not the exception; it’s the rule. It’s a universal flaw, deeply embedded in the human soul. And until we recognize this, we’ll keep turning others into scapegoats, perpetuating cycles of judgment and outrage that leave no room for grace.
Jesus and the Hypocrisy Trap
If hypocrisy is part of the universal human condition, why did Jesus rebuke it so harshly? Jesus indeed condemned hypocrisy sharply, often rebuking the Pharisees for their duplicity. Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!” He declared (Matthew 23:13-28). However, His critique was not about their sins of hypocrisy per se but their self-righteousness—their elevation of themselves as moral arbiters while neglecting their own flaws (Matthew 7:3-5). He called out their blindness to their "logs" even as they condemned the "specks" in others’ eyes. Each time Jesus condemned hypocrisy it was the hypocrisy of those who assumed roles that made judgments about others. Recognizing this universality is not an excuse for hypocrisy but a reminder of our shared imperfection.
“Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults—unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.”
The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14) drives this point home. The Pharisee, confident in his own virtue, prays, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men.” Meanwhile, the tax collector, despised for his dishonesty, can only pray, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Jesus concludes that it is the tax collector—not the Pharisee—who walks away justified. Why? Because humility, not self-righteous judgment, is the pathway to grace.
Jesus didn’t just teach this principle; He lived it. His challenge to “take the log out of your own eye” wasn’t just a moral lesson—it was a diagnosis of the human condition. Every time we judge others, we risk becoming the Pharisee, blind to our own hypocrisy.
Grace: The Only Escape
If hypocrisy is universal and judgment is flawed, where does that leave us? Stuck in a cycle of outrage and scapegoating—unless we embrace grace. Not the surface-level grace that simply forgives mistakes, but the radical, freeing grace of God that allows us to lay down our judgments entirely. As the Apostle Paul writes, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). That’s not just an indictment; it’s an invitation. When we admit our shared imperfection, we disarm the hypocrisy within and step into humility.
Grace liberates us from needing to judge or be judged. It’s the love of God that reminds us we are all in the same sinking ship and gives us permission to stop fighting over who’s driest. True grace replaces our instinct to project and scapegoat with a call to compassion—for others and for ourselves. It challenges the lie that our judgment can come from a righteous place. Nothing that elevates us as judges is from God—not in religion, spirituality, philosophy, or any other form of self-justification. This doesn’t mean all sins are equal or that consequences don’t matter. But it does mean no one has the moral high ground.
Nothing that elevates us as judges is from God—not in religion, spirituality, philosophy, or any other form of self-justification.
This idea is scandalous because it challenges our need for hierarchy. We want to believe there are good people and bad people, righteous and unrighteous. But the gospel flips this narrative on its head: there’s only grace for those humble enough to accept it.
Grace is not passive; it transforms. It helps us to heal the unhealthy parts of ourselves while freeing us from the need to condemn others (Titus 2:11-12). It invites us to let go of the scandal we create and instead embrace love—the kind God has for us and the kind we are meant to share with one another.
Grace is hard because it feels like surrender. It requires us to lay down our judgments and admit we’re no better than the people we condemn. Grace doesn’t ignore hypocrisy—it confronts it with love. It frees us from the exhausting need to pretend we’re perfect while offering the strength to grow.
Grace is essential in a culture consumed by moral outrage. Exposing others’ hypocrisies has become a form of virtue-signaling. But this performative righteousness only deepens division. Grace innvites us to stop seeing one another as threats to be eliminated and instead as neighbors to be loved.
From Judgment to Compassion
What if we let go of judgment as a weapon? What if we confronted our own hypocrisy before pointing fingers? What if we stopped scapegoating and started forgiving? Grace doesn’t let anyone off the hook—it holds us accountable to the higher standard of love, a standard rooted in humility.
In a world obsessed with exposing flaws, grace offers a better way. It says, “You’re flawed, but you’re not alone.” The only thing more universal than hypocrisy is the grace and love of God that redeems it.