There are only two kinds of men: the righteous who think they are

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Blaise Pascal: “There are only two kinds of men: the righteous who think they are sinners and the sinners who think they are righteous.” These words cut to the heart of human pride and humility, laying bare the eternal struggle within the soul. For Pascal, who wrestled with reason, faith, and the depths of human frailty, saw clearly that man’s greatest danger is not in falling, but in forgetting that he has fallen.

The meaning is this: the truly righteous are not those who boast of purity, but those who recognize their weakness, confess their faults, and walk with humility. They see themselves as sinners, and this recognition keeps them from arrogance. By contrast, those who are lost often imagine themselves upright, declaring their own goodness while blind to the corruption within. These are the true sinners, for their pride blinds them from repentance, and their self-righteousness locks the gates of mercy.

The origin of these words lies in Pascal’s meditations on faith during the seventeenth century, when he sought to reconcile reason with devotion. He studied the human condition with the sharp eye of a mathematician and the sorrowful heart of a believer. What he discovered was paradox: that man is capable of greatness and misery alike. To claim righteousness without acknowledging sin is to deny the truth of our condition. To acknowledge sin is the first step toward grace, and thus, ironically, the mark of true righteousness.

Consider the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, told in ancient scripture. The Pharisee, standing tall, thanked God that he was not like other sinners, boasting of his fasting and prayers. The tax collector, bowed low, struck his chest and whispered, “Have mercy on me, a sinner.” And it was said that the tax collector went home justified, not the Pharisee. Here we see Pascal’s truth revealed: the sinner who thinks himself righteous is condemned by pride, while the righteous, who think themselves sinners, are lifted by humility.

History too bears witness. Recall Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who despite his power constantly reminded himself of his mortality, his weakness, and his flaws in his Meditations. He did not see himself as beyond reproach, but as one in constant need of correction. Contrast this with countless tyrants who claimed virtue while committing cruelty, convinced of their own greatness even as they stained the earth with blood. The emperor who knew his limits left wisdom; the tyrants who thought themselves righteous left ruins.

The lesson, O listener, is clear: guard yourself from the poison of self-righteousness. Do not measure your worth by declaring yourself above others. Instead, examine your own heart, confess your faults, and walk humbly. The path to righteousness lies not in boasting of virtue, but in acknowledging imperfection and striving daily to overcome it.

Therefore, in practice, cultivate humility. When you are praised, remember your flaws; when you are condemned, consider if truth lies in the words. Resist the temptation to see yourself as pure while casting judgment on others. Strive to live as the righteous, who know they are sinners, for such humility opens the soul to wisdom, mercy, and growth. In this way, you will walk the path Pascal laid before us: a path of self-knowledge, where confession becomes strength and humility becomes the highest crown.