These next two columns mark the end of our mini-series on the Ten Commandments. It's been quite a ride, at least for me. I have been challenged with the underlying premise that if we became a society that learned to relax more, kept our hands in our own pockets, and always told the truth—three practical examples from the Ten Commandments that we've been writing about--we would be a much safer, sounder, and more satisfied society than what we are now. No question about it.
So with today's column we shall see that if we didn't envy other people and their things, we'd be better off. I've called the next two columns "Green with Envy" (just not sure where the "green" enters into the picture), though that phrase itself isn't found in any biblical passage.
"Envy" does not appear in the biblical references for these Ten Commandments; rather, each version I checked out used the archaic word "covet." For clarity purposes, I will stick with the conventional usage of the word "envy."
My dear Oxford Canadian Dictionary defines envy this way: "a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by another's better fortune." Other definitions include: "[to] desire wrongfully or inordinately, esp. something belonging to another person; long for or desire greatly but inappropriately."
That's really technical stuff, even for a language buff (aka word nerd) like me. It boils down to having a craving for something that you don't have but want, usually when it's someone else's.
As I write this, we have just slid through Christmas, hopefully untouched and unscathed by this vice. Just dreaming, of course: It's got to be the worst time of year for envy. It starts with the toys that are displayed in a certain way (ie., bright colours, bold lettering, at both eye and hand level). It emphasizes that every kid "must" have them, and they can't live contentedly unless they get them.
You see, this vice is not only a problem for kids at Christmas. We all fall into the trap (not just kids, not just at Christmas), and envy reveals itself in different forms.
If I go back to the actual commandment, it warns us about this insatiable craving for a number of things that belong to our neighbour (that we should keep our hands off), then finishes up conveniently with the catch-all phrase: "or anything that belongs to your neighbour." The word "neighbour" can mean family member, relative, or kids at school or colleagues at work—or even literally one's neighbour.
In other words, my truck is great until I see that my neighbour has a newer, better one. My kids like their toys until a relative shows up with the latest, greatest thing. Even the media feeds our greed within by showing off a really cool item, with the underlying pressure to get it.
We usually have no idea that we need something until we're duped into "feeling we need" it.
But beyond these tricks, how does this all happen? I don't know much about the psychological quirks of the human mind, but I do know, as an individual, parent, teacher, and consumer, that there is a problem with pandering to the false sense of need within. There is that general spirit of dissatisfaction that we all struggle with, wanting more and different things.
We often get confused between the words "need" and "want," and this is not my typical wordplay. We feel we need things, when actually we just want them. What we have is fine, until somewhere along the line we are lied to (please note the previous column on the evil habit of ad agencies), confusing us by blurring the difference between "need" and "greed."
For a kid, it may be a doll or Tinker toy; for an adult, it may be that doll (neighbour's wife) in the house next door or that big Ford toy in someone else's driveway.
We'll wrap this up next week.
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