Envy unvarnished: talk on others' success
The parable of the workers in the vineyard reveals the essence of envy and teaches us to rejoice in the achievements of our neighbors.
This feeling provokes shame. A person will not speak of it on the street, will not share it with friends over tea, and will not even dare to confess it right away. He would rather keep silent, eyes lowered. To admit to something like this is to show one's own inadequacy.
It is the bitterness that arises at the sight of another's prosperity, which the holy fathers called envy. Someone managed to leave abroad even before mobilization was announced; someone landed a good job amid total unemployment. And you do not seem to wish the person any harm, but his light step, his bright, pressed shirt and his easy laughter painfully pierce your heart. And at some moment another's joy begins to cause sharp pain.
It is hard to live with such a residue. Envy seems to take away whatever strength you have left. A man sits in the kitchen in the evening, looking into a cold cup, and repeats the question of the Gospel laborer: why did I give everything, endure the heat, and receive exactly as much as the one who came at the last moment (or perhaps even less)?
The Householder's Conversation with the One Who Murmurs
We are accustomed to hearing the parable of the laborers in the vineyard with inspiration, admiring the mercy of the Householder, who pays those who came late the full measure. But if you put yourself in the shoes of a laborer who stood under the scorching sun all day, your perception of the parable changes.
The first laborers, who had borne "the burden and heat of the day," saw those who came at the end of the day receive a denarius each. They sincerely expected to receive more.
It is obvious, after all: if the one who stood for an hour received a denarius, then the one who gave the whole day to grueling labor deserves more. When they were given that very same denarius, a righteous murmuring rose up in their breasts.
But those who came at the eleventh hour were not idling for their own pleasure either. To the Householder's question why they were standing idle, they sadly answer: "Because no man hath hired us." They stood the whole day in the marketplace awaiting hire, while their families at home awaited the means to eat.
At the moment of settling accounts with the laborers, the Householder of the vineyard does not begin to rebuke the discontented, does not summon servants, and does not deliver a long lecture about His authority. He answers each one concisely and precisely: "I do thee no wrong."
Saint John Chrysostom observes: the Householder does not denounce the murmurers aggressively, but seeks to draw them to Himself. He addresses not a noisy crowd, but steps out to one particular man holding a single denarius in his sweaty palm. He calls him friend. Not a rebel, not an envier, but a friend.
God does not mock or condemn our weariness.
He does not brush aside the grievance, but stands beside us and invites us to look at things objectively. The denarius is in your hands. Your labor has been accepted and valued without penalty.
The Difference Between Pain and Sin
It is important to understand here that sorrow over a loss or a failure is entirely legitimate. Christianity has never required people to put on a false mask when the heart is breaking with grief. To weep over one's misfortune is not a sin.
Envy begins where sorrow becomes distorted.
Saint Basil the Great wrote that "envy is sorrow over the well-being of one's neighbor." That is, it is grief not over one's own misfortune, but over another's good. What wounds the envious man is not his own failures, but the abundance of another's table, another's harvest, another's happiness.
The saint compares this state to corrosion: "As rust eats away iron, so envy eats away the soul in which it dwells." He writes that the envious man "is ashamed to make his misfortune known," keeps his ailment hidden in his soul, and the concealed pain consumes him from within. It is no wonder that such a person constantly lowers his gaze, goes about gloomy, and perishes from destructive bitterness.
Let us recall the brothers of the righteous Joseph. The prophetic dreams of their younger brother about his future prosperity gave them no peace. Envy so darkened their minds that they sold their own brother into slavery.
Another example is the Old Testament King Saul. The young man David came to the palace and played the harp, driving away his heavy thoughts and saving him from despondency. But when the women began to sing in the streets: "Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands," the ruler's heart grew heavy. Yesterday's savior turned into an enemy, and soon Saul took up his spear to settle scores with his rival.
Overcoming Resentment Through Prayer
What should you do if you have recognized yourself in these images? If another's success poisons your morning, and news of someone's prosperity provokes anger in you?
Saint Basil proposes changing the angle of view. He advises us not to regard anything human as great—neither wealth, nor glory, nor apparent good fortune. All these things come and go. The point lies elsewhere—in mentally making another's success our own, however strange that may sound. The saint speaks astonishing words: "This good is yours; through your brother the gift of instruction is sent to you." It turns out that our neighbor's successes are a moral lesson for us.
Indeed, does your neighbor's joy take anything away from you personally, if you are all members of one Church body?
If consolation is given to your brother, it means that light has come to your home as well, it means that God is at work in this world. Saint John Chrysostom asserts that in the Heavenly Kingdom there is no place for envy or ill will, and therefore we must learn heavenly living here and now.
"Rejoice in your brother's successes, and behold—God is glorified through you as well," adds the ecumenical teacher.
Venerable Paisios of Mount Athos offers practical advice. When the elder was asked how to cope with envy of other people creeping in, he would say: "Ask God that they continue to prosper." Do not murmur, but ask the Lord that their families flourish, that their children be healthy, that their undertakings succeed. At first this will be hard, but it is precisely at that moment that the rust will begin to flake off your heart.
The master of the vineyard comes out to the laborer at the close of day, looks him in the eye, and calls him His friend. And if He has called us friends, we have nothing left to divide among ourselves.
