Skip to main content

The Other Side of Envy

"Do not dwell in a place where you see others are envious of you, for you will not grow there."
 - Abbot Pastor

I'd never considered envy from the other side until I came across Abbot Pastor's strange little saying. I could pound out a little blog post in no time about the evils of envy. There would be a special circle in my freshly imagined hell for Madison Avenue advertising executives. I’d have them tormented eternally by surrounding them with monks who have no envy at all for the beautiful people in their ads and for whatever it was they were selling. Seems unfair to the monks, though. Maybe I'd better rethink this."*

See where the familiar trajectories of thought so often lead? Especially those driven by judgment? I'll soon have everyone in hell if it's up to me to make things right.

It's startling to hear that the one who is being envied is in a place devoid of nourishment. Growth can't happen if our soul's food is the envy of others. Maybe even those damned (in my mind) advertising execs are to be pitied more than judged.

Several years ago I was on a bus with a group where conversation turned to a pastor of a large church several people on the trip had known. His oversized ego had done real damage. And as the image of a  narcissist of the first order began to fill out. But as the unflattering and infuriating anecdotes piled up and up, one person said, with deep sympathy, "Oh, that poor man. He must have been miserable and so lonely."

The spell of our judgment was broken. I didn't know the man, but who wants to defend an egomaniac, especially a successful religious one?! These people must be called out and stopped! But my friend's comment cut to the true heart of envy. The egomaniac is the one who tries to live on the sugar of other people's envy. The rush is nice for a moment, but it won't nourish us deeply or for long.  It's a fuel insufficient to actual growth.

In Christian tradition, each of the seven deadly sins has a corresponding virtue. And the corrective for envy is kindness. Not judgment. Not contempt. Kindness. If my friend didn't know this explicitly, he knew it intuitively. The image of a person whose ego was trying to live on the envy of others aroused his compassion, not his contempt.

My hunch is that this instinctive kindness arose from my friend's having made some peace with -- or maybe having offered a little kindness to -- the egomaniac in himself. The one who lives in a shadowy corner of the heart of each of us, needing to envied so he'll feel like he matters.

To be kind, I suppose, is one way to say someone matters with no need for any other someone to matter less, which is the nourishment we actually need if we're to grow and flourish.

Have you ever known kindness to unexpectedly meet the ego's need to be envied? Or are there places in your life where kindness needs to replace contempt as a force to make God's world a better place?

*Doyle, B. (2020). A Father’s Day Prayer. Retrieved 20 April 2020, from https://blog.franciscanmedia.org/sam/a-fathers-day-prayer

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Easter Monday: A note not from the Desert Fathers

by the Rev. Buddy Stallings Since I am very part-time, non-stipendiary, and somewhat curmudgeonly, I am choosing not to write this morning about a piece of wisdom from the Desert Fathers. Today is Easter Monday, the second day of the Great Fifty Days of Easter; and not a single one of the “top ten hits of the Desert Fathers” seems very Eastery to me. This is the time when Episcopalians delight in saying “Happy Easter” much longer than our non-liturgical brothers and sisters do so. To be clear, God loves “them” just as God loves us, though I suspect God wonders why in the world “they” would choose to celebrate Easter just for one day when Easter is, in fact, a glorious season, lingering all the way to Pentecost. Lord knows we are in particular need of a “Glorious Season” this year! My wondrous, brave, and talented colleagues at Calvary gave all of us with eyes to see, ears to hear, and fingers to click thoughtful and beautiful online services during Holy Week (indeed throughout this d

Painstaking speech

Technology, folks are saying, will help us overcome the isolation we’re feeling during this pandemic. And to some extent, that’s true. I can see my friends and co-workers in digital replication on Zoom, or glean some good ideas from my creative friends on how to spend the time, or track how communal response is unfolding in communities far from me. But considering the well-established fact that social media hasn’t had an overall positive effect on our relationships, self-esteem, anxiety levels, loneliness, sleep patterns — not to mention our national conversation — I’m more than a little concerned. If social media and the digital existence are our lifelines now, what sort of life will we find answering on the other end of the line? Rowan Williams writes in Where God Happens  (p. 76), “However physically distant we may be from the more obvious temptations, there is always the damage that can be done by speech, by the giving and receiving of doubtfully truthful perspectives, the hal

Love Over Fear

After a long while in the Egyptian desert, Anthony said, “Now I no longer fear God, I love him, for love casts out fear.” by the Rev. Buddy Stallings When Scott first asked me to write a brief meditation on a teaching of one of the Desert Fathers, my response was, “Do you have any idea how long it has been since I have thought of a Desert Father?” In his inimitably kind way, he chuckled gently and told me the deadline for having it written. To tell the truth, even when I studied the Desert Fathers long ago in seminary, I didn’t think about them a great deal. None of them, not one, seemed like someone I would enjoy getting to know or certainly one with whom I would want to share a meal. Asceticism by definition does not elicit imaginings of culinary excellence. And, yet, even then, I was insightful enough to know that my real resistance was that I suspected they were on to something in their search for God that I most likely would never have the nerve or strength to engage: l