The Seven Deadlies: Envy

Titus 3:1-7 [NRSV]
Remind them to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show every courtesy to everyone. For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, despicable, hating one another. But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had done, but according to his mercy, through the water of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit. This Spirit he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

At some point we’re supposed to get over it. A mature person is supposed to be able to get it, to realize that the world, despite all of our wishes, does not revolve only around us. In infants it is a forgivable thing. When they cry it is out of frustration that their needs are not being met. They are wet, they’re tired, they’re hungry, they’re sick, they’re uncomfortable, they’re scared and they will not suffer in silence. They will wail until someone responds. We all come into the world thinking, “It’s all about me,” whatever ‘me’ means.

But later, as children, as youth, as adults, at some point, we’re supposed to realize that the world is more than ‘me.’ There are other people with needs of their own. We share our lives and the world with them. One of the first and hardest lessons we have to learn is just that – that we must share.

If we find our lives in Christ, as Christians, we realize something even deeper – that our lives are not, in fact, our own. Jesus comes to say, “Those who find their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” [Mat 10:39, NRSV] Somewhere in that mystery is the promise that by letting go of the life centered on me we will find the life that is given to us in Christ. As Colossians says, “Set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” [Col 3:2-3] It’s not about me anymore. Or perhaps better said: I find myself as I discover my life in Christ. And because I am no longer preoccupied with myself I am free to love God and love others.

As I say, at some point we’re supposed to get over the idea that the world revolves around us, but even for those who realize that Christ came to save us from ourselves, the sin remains. Last week we talked about it under the title of pride, but really all of the seven deadly sins have this problem at their root. It is because we cannot let go of ourselves that we get into trouble.

And so today we move to envy. We think of envy as a sin of comparison. All advertising is built around this notion. You have a plasma TV and I want one, too. You don’t have the latest video game? How are you surviving? That model sure has nice skin and I want it. There’s even a cell phone campaign right now that shows people lusting after a cell phone and the name of the cell phone is Envy. Advertising doesn’t want you to resist the temptation to act on your envy; it encourages you to give in to it! What it seems to say is that we know you have the desire to possess our product. You will feel envious if you see someone else with it. So why hold back? What good is your impulse control?

But envy is more than wanting what other people have. It’s deeper than that. Sin is never just about things or actions. It goes to the soul. And what envy is really about is turning love inward and away from the things towards which it ought to be directed. We are supposed to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves. That is the great commandment. But when we only love ourselves we find that love cannot be what it is supposed to be.

Envy tells us that what others have should be ours. Not only that, but envy leads us to sorrow at another’s good. That was Thomas Aquinas’ definition of it in the Middle Ages.[i] When we feel injured when someone else succeeds or experiences some blessing…When we take secret joy when someone else fails…we are feeling the effects of envy. And because this is the sin we so rarely admit, it is hard to recognize how much it affects us.

Let me tell you a story. It’s a familiar scene. One we can easily imagine. Two women sharing coffee at a breakfast table. Veronica is visiting her friend, Mary, in the late morning. It has been a while since they had the chance to do this because Veronica is usually caring for her teenaged son who is disabled.

“I’m so glad you were able to come over this morning,” Mary says. “You have been so faithful to Larry. I’m glad that you have another caregiver who is able to come and give you some relief. Larry really seems to like this new woman.”

Somehow Veronica does not look relieved. She stares down into her coffee cup, lines of worry still crossing her face. She doesn’t respond besides a slight nod.

“Are you all right, Veronica? It is working out with the new caregiver, isn’t it?”

Veronica doesn’t look up, but she responds, “I suppose.”

“You don’t sound too sure. She’s been there, what, three weeks now?”

“Yes, well, I don’t know if she’s really going to be right for him. She doesn’t handle him like I would. The way she feeds him seems a little uncomfortable to me.”

“Wasn’t this one highly recommended to you? You were so happy with her when you interviewed. And I remember the first week you sounded so relieved to have her there.”

“I know,” Veronica says, “and Larry seemed to like her. I just have this uneasy feeling, especially when I’m away, like now. Like I need to be there.”

“So what’s the problem, Veronica?”

“Mary…” She pauses. A long pause. “Mary, the real problem is me. I find myself thinking about this caregiver in terrible ways. I keep wanting her to fail. I look for little mistakes that she makes…little signs that she doesn’t care…little things that I magnify and blow up into major issues. She is doing a great job, but I have a hard time admitting it.”

“Why would you do that?,” Mary asks. “Why would you want her to fail? You’ve been praying for this for a long time. You kept saying how grateful you would be if you found someone to take care of Larry, if only for a few hours at a time.”

“Mary, I’ve had five other caregivers before this one.” She pauses again. “Can I confess something to you? I got rid of all of them. I let them all go. Not because they were bad but because I couldn’t handle them being there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t stand the idea that somebody could mean something to Larry...that somebody else might be able to love him, too. I can’t stand the thought that somebody else could be the center of his attention or any part of his attention. I can’t stand the idea that I’m…that I’m not indispensable. That’s what it comes down to. I can’t stand the idea that I might be replaced, if only for a few hours. It doesn’t matter how good this woman is. I’m always going to find fault in her. Because she’s not me.”

“But Veronica, you’re not that way. You’re a saint. You have cared for Larry for so long.”

Finally Veronica looks up at her friend. “Mary, don’t do that. Don’t take away my ability to be a sinner. You don’t know how many times people have told me how good I am. ‘O noble Veronica! She’s taken care of her child all these years and sacrificed so much to be his caregiver. She has to be on a first name basis with God. She has to be a saint!’ But nobody knows what goes on in here, Mary. Somebody’s got to let me confess these feelings of envy. Because that’s what it is. I’m envious of anybody who might have a piece of Larry’s world. I know that’s strange and wrong, but it’s the sin I need to be healed of….the sin I need to confess to a friend.”

Mary puts her hand over Veronica’s and smiles. “O.K., but only if you allow me to confess to you as well. Because I envy the love you have for your son.”

Envy is a theological problem because it stems from a basic lack of trust in God’s blessings for us. When we do not feel at home in the world, when we feel insecure, when our trust in the goodness of life is wounded, we tend to interpret the good things that happen to others as something threatening to us. And when bad things happen to others, something sinister in us smiles in delight. The novelist Walker Percy had a handle on this dark side of ourselves when he wrote in the book Lost in the Cosmos: “the self – though it professes to be loving, caring, to prefer peace to war, concord to discord, life to death; to wish other selves well, not ill – in fact secretly relishes wars and rumors of war, news of plane crashes, assassinations, mass murders, obituaries, to say nothing of local news about acquaintances dropping dead in the streets, gossips about neighbors getting in fights, or being detected in sexual scandals, embezzlements and other disgraces.”[ii]

It is a puzzle as old as humanity. Last week we looked to the story of Adam and Eve to see the origins of pride. You only have to go one chapter further to see the first instance of envy. Cain and Abel were the children of the man and woman. Cain was a tiller of the ground, a farmer, and Abel was a shepherd. They both brought offerings to God, but only Abel’s gift received God’s attention. There is no word about why Cain’s offering wasn’t accepted.

What was Cain’s response? Was he happy for his brother? Was he delighted that God had blessed Abel? Hardly. Cain flew into a violent rage and in his anger killed his brother. Envy and jealousy had led to the worst of crimes so that Abel’s blood cried out to God and Cain was condemned to walk the earth as a marked man, forever known for the result of his crime.

Envy has always been a devastating evil. We don’t feel good about ourselves when we allow ourselves to feel it. Even if we take a perverse delight in other’s misfortune, we know that it is a perversion of what we ought to feel. The community suffers as well. That is why the New Testament book of Titus talks about the new Christian community as a place where the old ways are transformed. The writer remembers that “we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, despicable, hating one another.” But that changes when God appears in the form of Jesus the Savior.

Because of Jesus we live by grace and find our lives in him. Because of Jesus we are no longer captive to a life where everything has to revolve around me. Because of Jesus the sin which resides so deep in our souls that most of the time we’re not even aware of it is judged and purged and nailed to a cross. Because of Jesus the desperate attempts we make to prop up our own lives without regard to God are shown up for what they are. Because of Jesus the pretensions fail and the walls we erect to keep ourselves from truly relating to others fall and the barriers we present to God when we turn in on ourselves are useless and ridiculous.

Then we are free to do something we were made to do from the beginning. In Jesus we are free to love. This is what envy prevents us from doing – it prevents us from truly loving and experiencing love. There is no more powerful experience than being so close to someone that we can truly share their joy and share their sorrow. This is the promise that is built into Christian community.

It’s a practice that goes beyond Sunday morning. The business of sharing one another’s lives and of practicing the love of God together is one that takes more than an hour on Sunday morning. It takes regular gathering and regular prayer. It takes confessing the places where we still need healing and accepting the grace that comes through a brother or sister offering us forgiveness. It takes a community.

This place can be that community. Your brothers and sisters are close at hand. Christ has already opened the way for us to God. What he asks is that we be transformed. Thanks be to God.

[i] Summa Theologica, II.ii.,Q.36, A1.
[ii] Walker Percy, Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1983), p. 57.