"It is not my place," Obi-Wan protests.

I wonder at his reticence. He often seems ready enough with argument.

"Go on. It is the place of each to give and to receive criticism in his turn. It is for the benefit of the community and the individual that he might improve and perfect himself," instructs Elder Neetes.

Snede Neetes is the leader of the isolated community where my padawan and I have passed these last few weeks while conducting our latest mission. At the conclusion of the mission, he has invited me to take part in their ritual of "mutual criticism." Each member of the community will in time take his turn hearing the combined criticism of his peers and, presumably, offering his insight in return on another occasion. Tonight I am only to experience the receiving of criticism. "To withhold the truth is to deprive him of this opportunity for improvement," Elder Neetes adds.

Well then. How can I pass up this Force-provided opportunity to "improve" myself? After all, humility is a core virtue for a Jedi. What better way to seek it than to solicit a dissection of one's faults from a seventeen-year old apprentice? My seventeen-year old apprentice. Perhaps he will accuse me of an unseemly desire to watch him squirm as he attempts to answer diplomatically. That would be true enough, at least. Perhaps I shall surprise him further. It might after all be useful to hear his direct opinion for once. It might serve to clear the air.

You may proceed, young one. I await my edification. I note with satisfaction the infinitesimal grimace at the appellation "young one." I might as well enjoy myself whilst I can before I hear my judgment and must set to redeeming myself. I drop my shields so that he can feel my sincerity. I do not intend retaliation via any of the usual methods of chores, meditation, or the diplomatic nightmare of consuming Yoda's culinary creations in the presence of that august being. Nor do I plan to invent new edifying tasks for him in response to what I might hear.

Now I note the quickly masked surprise and the slightly calculating look he throws me. He's likely wondering what I'm up to, but I see his determination mount to meet the challenge set him. He has been frustrated with me. It has been a difficult mission, and he has struggled to find a balance between his vow of obedience to my word and following the guidance he perceives directly from the Force. His perceptions of the Force are subtly different from my own. More and more often this differing perspective challenges our harmony.

I watch him take a breath and set his shoulders. He begins.

"Master Qui-Gon is a great Jedi, highly attuned to the Force, especially the Living Force. His compassion extends to all living things."

Hmm...well, I am training the boy to be a diplomat. He knows well how to envelop unpleasant truths in more palatable trappings. First I've received the honey. And I know well that his praise for my compassion is not as laudatory as it seems. I am sure he has added a bit of internal grumbling about pathetic lifeforms forgetting that he is classed as the most precious amongst my lifelong collection. Still, he has offered nothing to ruffle my serenity yet. My own diplomatic facade is yet pristine.

But just as I know Obi-Wan's skill for diplomatic presentation, I know that my padawan will not shy away from speaking the truth in the end. So now it is time to steel myself.

Neetes cuts in. It seems he is eager for Obi-Wan to get on with the criticism. "Yes, Master Jinn is a fine man and an exemplary Jedi. Still, we all may ever draw closer to the Force and live more perfectly in tune with its will and in harmony with our fellow beings. It is your duty, padawan, in this moment to aid Master Jinn's quest." I remember that as the leader Snede Neetes rarely exercises the privilege of being the focus of the criticism.

"Yes, Elder Neetes, I shall endeavor to do my duty," my padawan agrees. And there is something there, something that makes me narrow my eyes suspiciously as I gaze at my padawan, who is gazing calmly, and very, very deliberately across the fire, and not at me. There, now I start to see the emotion leaking through cracks and fissures in my padawan's aura. Now he is the one up to something. I'm starting to regret my display of good will towards this ritual. I had girded myself for rousing criticism, but I'm not sure I'm ready to weather my padawan's mischievous spirit.

But the Force does not send us trials we are unable to bear so I shall be patient and meet any challenge as it comes.

Now, several hours have passed. My apprentice and I are safely ensconced in a ship headed for Coruscant, and I have time to reflect on my experience with mutual criticism. I would not have expected a lesson in patience to have been the result of this recent exercise in self-improvement.

Still, it was a necessary outcome, I reflect as I stroke my chin thoughtfully. My fingers glide in the familiar gesture more smoothly than ever.

Yes, it is right that I heard and heeded the criticism of the assembly. Humility is a virtue honed through practice. And in actions. Such as the actions prompted by my padawan's words, in particular.

My eyes meet my own gaze in the mirror as I rinse the foam from the grooming utensil yet in my hand. Yes, this should do. For while I learn, well, re-learn patience and humility, my padawan will learn that one must not rest too assured in seemingly easy victory.

The boy's own words have led to this end. "Master Qui-Gon is indeed a fine Jedi. The only humble criticism I may venture to offer is that he might learn to let the outward appearance match the inner heart." Such intoned my wretched brat as he sent a mental image of me clean-shaven and with a Jedi-standard haircut number four.

I think my padawan and I shall dine with the pilot tonight. She expressed a desire to see what I was hiding beneath the "scruff," and she was quite friendly as she directed me to my cabin with a familiar swat to my hindquarters. Yes, I think my padawan is due some edification after all. Though I think he will retire early to reflect on his lesson while the pilot and I consider the effects of my own "self-improvement."

I think I may pass a long evening in the pursuit of self-awareness, with the pilot's assistance, of course.

The end.

"Mutual criticism" was a practice of the Oneida community, a nineteenth century communal religious community in New York. I couldn't decide if the Jedi would possibly have such a practice or not so I stuck to letting them experience it as a cultural experience on a mission. Also, the Jedi might not let snot-nosed padawans criticize masters so freely, so I had to get them out of temple for this one. Thanks for giving it a read.