THE SEVEN DEADLIES: INVIDIA AND AVARITA

THE SEVEN DEADLIES: INVIDIA AND AVARITA

Text:

Luke 12:13-21

Genesis 4:1-8

February 2008

This morning, we are going to consider the second and the fourth of the seven deadly sins:

envy and greed. Dante, the great Italian poet of the late 13^th century, has called envy a sin of

“perverted love,” in that it “loves” what other people possess rather than what is good, and

beautiful, and true. Along those same lines, Dante has grouped greed with lust and gluttony,

calling them sins of “excessive love of earthly goods.” A few minutes ago, we heard the reading

of an Old Testament text which delivers the first Biblical account of the consequences of envy,

exposing it as deadly in both the literal and the spiritual sense. Now I would like to share with

you a New Testament text - a parable of Jesus - which speaks of the sin of greed, and its deadly

consequences.

(Luke 12:13-21)

The great preacher Dwight L. Moody once told the fable of an eagle who was envious of

another that could fly better than he could. One day, the bird saw a sportsman with a bow and

arrow and said to him, “I wish you would bring down that eagle up there.” The man said he

would if he had some feathers for his arrow. So the envious eagle pulled one out of his wing.

The arrow was shot, but it didn’t quite reach the rival bird because he was flying too high. The

first eagle pulled out another feather, then another – until he had lost so many that he couldn’t

fly himself. The archer took advantage of the situation, turned around, and killed the helpless

bird. The moral of Moody’s story: If you are envious of others, the one you will hurt the most by

your actions will be yourself.

This was a difficult lesson learned by an older brother named Cain. As the story is

transmitted to us through the oral tradition of the Old Testament, the first son of Adam and Eve

had a bone to pick with his younger sibling Abel. Both brought offerings before God – Abel, the

first fruits of the flock he shepherded; Cain, “an offering of the fruit of the ground” which he

tilled and tended. The scripture tells us that to Cain’s dismay, the offering of his brother Abel

was found acceptable before the Lord, while Cain’s offering was not. We might speculate as to

the reasons why Abel’s offering was regarded over Cain’s, but that would risk missing the point

of the story. The story is more about response than reason. Cain’s response was one of anger,

and a deep-seated hatred of his little brother; a hatred which I suspect had been fomenting long

before this event. Although God warned the elder brother that “sin” was “lurking at his door”

in this envious attitude of his heart, and that he must “master it” rather than being mastered by

it, Cain led Abel out into the field, and rose up and killed him. The consequences were deadly

in two respects. Literally, the life of a young man was unjustly and unfairly snuffed out.

Spiritually, Cain became an outcast, cursed from the very ground which supported him - the

soil from which he would presumably never be permitted to bring right offering; outcast

from God, hidden from the “face” of God, consigned to forever be “a fugitive and a wanderer

on the earth.” The aftermath: Abel was physically dead. Cain was spiritually dead.

I ran across a quote attributed to a Basilea Schlink which states: “Envy is a poisonous root in

our soul that can kill others, and ourselves” A simple definition of invidia, the Latin word for

envy, would be a compelling desire for others’ traits, status, abilities, or situation. But envy is not

such a simple matter. It’s an attitude which often lies deep in our hearts; so deep, that we may not

even realize it’s lurking there.

“I saw my friend’s new car the other day, and I said to God, ‘Why does she get to drive a

beautiful car while I’m stuck driving this crummy minivan that has duct tape holding the side

mirror on?’” Questions such as this flood our minds every day, but most of us seldom recognize

them for what they are: symptoms. Such fleeting thoughts that most of us have don’t even register

as envy, as witnessed by the online poll we talked about last Sunday where only one in ten of those

responding considered envy a serious issue for them. Far from being harmless and innocent

thoughts, envy is so serious to God that one of God’s ten commandments prohibits it: Thou shalt

not covet - or longingly desire in your heart - your neighbor’s house, or wife, or slave, or ox, or

donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor. In Proverbs we are told why: “A heart at

peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.”

Just as sticky foods cling to our teeth and cause a slow decay of the protective enamel, a reality

of which we are usually not even aware until the life of the tooth is threatened, likewise envy

eventually decays the gratitude and joy which protect us from bitterness and resentment. One writer

has suggested that “Envy acts like bone cancer in your spirit.... and it will destroy you.” Envy eats

away at kindness and compassion, often causing us to choose hateful, hurtful behaviors, even

toward those we claim to care about, indeed, love. Or it can cause us to withdraw, such as from the

friend who got a promotion, or the new car or house, or got pregnant, or any number of “blessings”

we wanted, but didn’t receive. What many of us fail to realize is that our problem is with God.

Beneath all our envious thoughts and mutterings about what other people have that we don’t is an

accusation that God loves someone else more than God loves us. Cain was of this persuasion. Envy

twists our perspective so we start believing that the material or spiritual blessings others enjoy is

evidence that God plays favorites. And what started as small, whining complaints of the soul grow

into a disease that “rots the bones.”

A solution, however, is within reach. Let’s take our eyes off of what God is doing in someone

else’s life, and see the overwhelming goodness God’s shown in ours. Of course, there are and will

be times when seeing God’s goodness is difficult: sorrow, tragedy, loss, disappointment, betrayal,

delays — all these can blind us to God’s tender mercies. But God has no favorites, no Christians

God loves best. We all have equal access to God’s love and grace on a daily basis. Let’s make a

Lenten practice – and a lifelong practice – of refocusing our attention on appreciating the generosity

and goodness of God; toward us, and toward others. In time, that bone-rotting envy will be

displaced by life-giving peace.

The fourth of the seven deadlies - avarita or greed (sometimes called “avarice”) is every bit as

dangerous to the soul as envy, and in some ways is closely related. We could identify at least three

forms of greed: an obsessive and restless desire for ever more material goods and the attendant

power, a fearful need to store up surplus goods for a vaguely defined time of want, and a desire for

more earthly goods for their own sake. Jesus’ parable of the rich man exposes all three of these

forms.

It seemed that folks were always trying to enlist Jesus on the side of their causes. On one

occasion, Jesus was teaching an enormous crowd. Out of that crowd came the voice of one who

had a specific concern, something which had probably been gnawing at him for some time

“Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” Perhaps his name was

Cain. Jesus responded by asking what this had to do with Him. Jesus, after all, was not a family

law attorney or a regional magistrate. But Jesus captured a teachable moment as He perceived

something in the heart of this person. So he told the parable of a rich man; a man, the successful

tilling and tending of whose land had made him very rich and powerful. But the rich man was not

satisfied. Such a man may have been on the mind of son of Sirach, a Jewish sage of antiquity, when

he wrote, “He who loves goods never has goods enough.”

The problem which presented itself for the rich man was that he was running out of room to store

his burgeoning harvest. He doesn’t seem to consider less wealthy neighbors who might have need of

a portion of his excess, or how he might bless family and friends with his abundance. Instead, his

concern is with getting and keeping more and more of what he obviously has enough of already. In

order to guarantee a carefree future, the rich man sees only one viable solution: “I will pull down my

barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.” But then came

the day which he had not expected, nor for which he had made any provision. Jesus draws His parable

to a conclusion: “But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of

you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Will there be yet another person

calling from the crowd? ‘That rich man was my dad. “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family

inheritance with me.”’

A simple definition of avarita or greed might be: the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring

the realm of the spiritual. This was precisely the rich man’s problem, and led Jesus to add an editorial

note to His own parable: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich

toward God.” I’m reminded at this point of a statement I recently heard which resonated: “It’s not a sin

to be materially rich. But it is a sin to want to be materially rich.” Within this statement, I hear an

implication that to desire to be materially rich perhaps trumps the desire to be spiritually rich.

Let’s spend just a moment or two on each of the three forms of greed we mentioned earlier. First,

the greed for power. In this form, earthly goods are chiefly a means to an end, which is not really far off

from a healthy view. The question is: what is that end? When money, real estate, cars, etc. are simply

things used to achieve, wield, and display personal power and success, employed to intimidate or bribe

others, or to reinforce one’s own or other’s illusions about what is ultimately important, this is a sinful

attitude. The real problem here is more the desire for power than the actual greed. A common thread

for sin in general is that it is often borne out of fear. A fear of helplessness or loss of control can turn

into a obsessive desire for power as a way of preventing an undesirable situation.

The antidote for greed for power is being generous in granting power to others. When appropriate,

as taught by the Apostle Paul, be submissive to others. Avoid those situations which give rise to the

temptation for a “power grab.” Share credit for successes with others, and claim a fair share of

responsibility for failures being blamed on others. The idea is to stop trying to control everything and

everyone. This doesn’t mean abdicating legitimate responsibilities, but loosening our grip on others’

lives, as well as our own. If we truly believe God is in ultimate control, has a plan, and will take care of

us, we can let go of greed for power, and even learn to relax in God’s hands.

Second, the greed of fear. When we think about it, fear is a poor motivator for virtue, but a great

motivator for greed. Sometimes, greed is merely a desire to have so much that we can’t possibly run out.

This was certainly a potent motivator for the rich man in Jesus’ parable. Reality is, the stock market could

tank, we could lose our jobs or health, we could be sued. So if we acquire enough stock, real estate,

T-bills, we think we will be safe from want. This is an illusion and spiritually deadly, as there is no

perfect preventative for want. But even if there was, it would stand in opposition to trust in God to which

we are called. The evangelist John wrote in his first letter, “Perfect love casts out fear.” Trust in God

frees us from a need to build a massive buffer against poverty, which is what much greed seeks to do.

Few of us are willing to learn to do with less, but herein may lie the antidote for this form of greed.

Can we try to learn to use less of the world’s goods, while drawing upon those goods which are spiritual?

As a saying goes, might we “live simply, that others may simply live?” Once this kind of freedom is

practiced, we come to realize that we don’t need that much anyway. This knowledge, in turn, reduces our

fear, and builds a type of strength and confidence which is in every way life-giving.

Third, and possibly most insidious, the greed of acquisition and enslavement; the greed for things for

their own sake. This is slavery, plain and simple. We can reduce ourselves to a small and cold desire to

accumulate more electronic gear, trading cards, antiques, or other collectibles. But consider how far it is

beneath the dignity of our humanity to enslave ourselves to objects of our own making. It is well said that

our possessions in some ways may come to own us. I can’t help but think of a parishioner I once served

who was a retired jeweler. It had been said that he had diamonds buried all over his property. Even in the

last days of his life, dying of emphysema, his greatest concern was that no one would find and dig up his

stash of jewels. He was certainly in bondage to that which he had rightly acquired.

The obvious antidote to this form of greed is to divest oneself of as much as possible. Yet another

suggestion might be to consider the grave. When we die, we take nothing with us. Before the jeweler

heard God say, “This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have

prepared, whose will they be?” I’ll admit that I tried to convince him to have some of those diamonds

dug up and their value given toward the work of the church. I was not successful. But everyone sure

wanted to buy his property. The point is, if we are bound by disordered attachments to worldly goods, the

separation forced upon us by death will be even more painful. If we are destined for eternal glory, being

attached to and enslaved by acquisitions of this life is frankly absurd.

I’d like to close this edition of “The Seven Deadlies” with an excerpt from a prayer written by 20^th

century monastic scholar Thomas Merton from his book New Seeds of Contemplation: