Homily on Envy

Homily on Envy
By Basil

God is good, and He gives good gifts to those who are worthy. But the devil is evil and is the author of every kind of wickedness. As goodness has no fellowship with envy, so envy is the companion of the devil. Let us therefore guard ourselves, brethren, from the sin of envy; let us not take part in the works of the adversary, lest we fall under the same condemnation as he. For if the proud man falls under the judgment of the devil, how shall the envious man escape the punishment prepared for the devil? No more destructive passion is born in human souls than envy. It troubles others little, but it is an evil snare to the one who possesses it; for as rust eats iron, so envy devours the soul in which it dwells. It is said of certain reptiles that they gnaw their way out of their mother’s body; so, envy destroys the soul that bears it. To be grieved when it goes well—almost too well—for your neighbour: that is envy. Therefore, the envious man is always in pain and never free from grief. If his neighbour’s field yields abundant produce, if his house is prosperous in everything that sustains life, if the man flourishes in what brings joy to the heart—all this feeds the disease and increases the pain of the envious. He is like a naked man, wounded on every side. If someone is in good health, it wounds him. If another is of beautiful appearance, it strikes the envious like a blow. If someone excels others by wisdom, and men admire his prudent and powerful speech, if another is distinguished by wealth and by his lavish gifts to the poor, so that he is highly praised by those who receive his benefits—these are all blows and wounds that strike the envious man to the heart. And the worst of all is that he cannot confess his sickness. He casts down his eyes, is confused and depressed, complains bitterly, and wastes away with his secret evil. And if anyone asks him about his trouble, he is ashamed to reveal his misfortune—to admit that he is envious and embittered, that his friend’s prosperity torments him, that he grieves at his brother’s joy, and cannot bear to see others happy, but counts his neighbour’s well-being as his own calamity. And because he will reveal none of this, he keeps the disease inside, and it burns through his very entrails like a slow fire.

He seeks no physician for his sickness, nor can he find any remedy to cure it, though Scripture is full of such medicines. The only relief he hopes for is to see one of those whom he envies fall into misfortune. This is the goal of his hatred—to see the envied man pass from happiness to misery, to see wretched the one who’s good he desired for himself. Then the envious man is reconciled; then he shows himself friendly when he beholds someone weeping or mourning. He does not rejoice with the joyful. When he speaks of the changes of life, saying how those who stand high may fall low, it is not from compassion, but to make the suffering seem heavier. He praises the child after it is dead, covering it with endless words of how beautiful and gifted it was, though while it lived, he never granted it a single kind word. He admires wealth when it is lost. The beauty, strength, and health of the body he praises only when disease has taken them away. In short, he is an enemy to the present, and a friend only to what has perished.

What drove the evil spirit, the author of all wickedness, to wage war against mankind? Was it not envy? For he was taken in open rebellion against God, being enraged at the great honour God bestowed upon man; and since he could not attack God, he avenged himself on man. The same was true of Cain, the devil’s first disciple. He was trained by him in envy and murder, those twin passions which Paul also links together when he says, “Full of envy and murder.” (Romans 1:29). What did Cain do? He saw the honour given to his brother, and he burned with jealousy. He slew the one who received the honour, hoping thereby to spite the One who honoured him. Since he could not contend with God, he turned his hatred into fratricide. Why do you grieve, O man, when you have suffered no wrong? Why do you make war against one who prospers, though he takes nothing from you? And if you even become angry after receiving benefits, are you not plainly envious of what is useful to yourself? Such was Saul, who turned extraordinary acts of kindness into reasons for warfare against David. Freed from his melancholy by David’s gentle and divinely inspired harp-playing, he attempted to pierce his benefactor with a spear. Then again, after he had been delivered from shame through Goliath’s defeat and rescued from the hand of the enemy, he acted in the same way. For when the dancing women gave David the greater honour in their song—“Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousand”—Saul, for this very testimony (truth itself bearing witness), tried first to kill him with his own hand, and then to destroy him by ambush. Afterwards he made him a fugitive, and still, he did not cease from his hostility. He pursued him with three thousand chosen men, searching the wilderness. The second time he fell into David’s hands whilst asleep in a cave.

Envy is a hatred difficult to appease. Other enemies are softened by kindness, but the envious man becomes only more enraged by the favours he receives, and the greater the favour, the greater his offence and fury. His resentment against the benefactor’s power is stronger than his gratitude for the benefit received. What wild beast has ever been so cruel? Dogs are tamed by feeding; lions may be handled when one cares for them; but the envious grow only more savage when one does them good. On this occasion he gave David the opportunity to shine in his virtue, while he made his own wickedness even more evident.