DeadlySins.com is my source for all future definitions this week. They say, “Medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas said of Envy: “Envy according to the aspect of its object is contrary to charity, whence the soul derives its spiritual life… Charity rejoices in our neighbor’s good, while envy grieves over it.”

That’s more then just keeping up with the Jones’. I might be sinning when I drool over someone’s mini-cooper or designer blouse, but envy “grieves over” the fortune of others. That’s a definite work hazard as a writer. One weak moment in Barnes and Nobel can have me grieving over the sheer volume of text in print. Why them?  “Look at this book; it’s awful, cliché, another narcissistic memoir.”

Tsk, tsk. Charitable Rocky walks in and says, “Wow. People love to read and the world is filled with good writers. What a gift to humanity to have so many people connecting in this way on a genuine, deep level. There is something for everyone here. I bet, or I can hope, there is a place for me here too. God willing.”

Envy can be so sneaky too. It can disguise itself as charity. I give you motherhood envy.  Oh, the comparisons of our children can get so ugly.  “That four-year-old reads already and my child does not. I will get him some reading lessons. That’s what I’ll do. Not because I am crazy and pushy and envious, but because I wouldn’t want him to feel stupid now, would I? It’s my job to get him into a good college.”  Hmmmm.

I could go on and on, but you get the idea.  How does envy infiltrate your life?


  1. My low self-esteem follows from the sin of envy. Everyone I know is better at everything I do than I am. Irrational? Probably. Deadly? Absolutely.

  2. This could maybe be my worst one yet. “but envy “grieves over” the fortune of others.”

    I seep envy from every pour in my body. It’s so bad I would be embarrassed to even mention specifics.

    4 for 4. I’m batting 1000. Yeah me.

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