In “
Envy,“ Joseph Epstein writes, ”Of the seven deadly sins, only envy is no fun at all. Surely it is the one that people are least likely to own up to, for to do so is to admit that one is probably ungenerous, mean, small-hearted.”
In her 2006
article, Elaine Jarvik backs up Epstein’s observations by reporting that “in 30 years of listening to clients, Salt Lake psychologist Mark Owens has never had anyone come in and say, ‘I need help because of my problem with envy.’”
Though we may not distinguish between jealousy and envy, the two are quite different. Here, an example may work better than a definition in making the distinction. A man at a party engages in a one-sided conversation with an attractive young woman, who talks without pause about her vegan diet, her cat, and her favorite TikTok videos. On the drive home, the man’s wife asks, “Should I be jealous about how much time you spent with that girl?” It’s unlikely she would say, “I’m envious of the time you spent with that young woman.”
And if jealousy is a “
green-eyed monster,“ then envy is a ghost in the machine—meaning us. In envy’s worst manifestations, it haunts us, brooding, bitter, and ashamed to speak its name. If we do give this ghost a voice, as Ms. Jarvik writes, it speaks in euphemisms, such as ”That’s not fair“ or ”Why didn’t I get that promotion? I work harder than she does.”
These days, envy has assumed another disguise, at least on the national stage, where it sails under the banner of “equity.” It’s an old idea; we’ve just decked it out in new clothes, as Ms. Jarvik demonstrates by citing an author who died more than 60 years ago.
“As writer and theologian Dorothy Sayers once wrote, ‘Envy is the great leveler: If it cannot level things up, it will level them down.’ At its worst, she said, envy is a destroyer—‘rather than have anyone happier than itself, it will see us miserable together.’”
Many of us experience passing moments of this killer of joy without it doing any great harm. Bone-deep, long-term envy, however, not only devours relationships but also gobbles up the envious for dessert. In this case, we risk becoming Shakespeare’s Iago, filled with such blind, irrational spite that we secretly rejoice when a friend takes a tumble. All too often, we fail to see that we’re the victims of our own murderous thinking.
So how do we avoid or cure this pernicious sickness of the soul?
Self-Awareness. Envy derives from the Latin invidere, meaning to look at with ill-will or spite. If your fellow worker, a generally likeable fellow, is setting off for a beach week with his family and you’re thinking, “I hope it rains the whole time,” it’s time to push back on that thought. Instead, ask yourself where it came from and why.
Reality check. The world as seen from my front porch is reality. The world as seen through Facebook, Instagram, and other social media is often fantasy. It’s the Never-Never Land, where nearly everyone seems happier, more successful, and more talented than you. If you’re sitting in front of a screen cursing the announcement of a friend’s promotion at work or sneering at your cousin posing in a bikini, it’s time to kick social media and deal with your envy.
Gratitude. A cure-all for so many spiritual diseases, gratitude banishes the virus of envy. When we reflect on the treasures in our lives, including the gift of life itself—and those treasures are always present if we have the good sense to hunt for them—that act of appreciation can douse the fires of comparison and malice.
Extinguish those flames, and we make room for joy.
Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
