SS#171: The Vice of Envy

What is envy, really?

We often use words like jealousy, covetousness, and envy as if they mean the same thing, but they do not. And if we cannot name a vice clearly, we will have a hard time recognizing it in ourselves, much less helping our children fight it.

In this episode, we begin a more intentional conversation about virtue and vice by taking up envy—that bitter, hidden sin that resents another person’s good and cannot bear to see someone else excel.

Drawing especially from Rebecca DeYoung’s Glittering Vices, we talk about why envy is so hard to identify, how it disguises itself as fairness or justice, why it often grows out of insecurity and discontent, and how it can distort friendships, parenting, politics, and even homeschool culture.

We also consider how envy differs from jealousy and covetousness, why it is especially dangerous in female social settings, and what habits of gratitude and rejoicing might help us resist it.

This conversation is not about diagnosing everyone else. It is about learning to name sin properly so that we can repent of it, teach our children to do the same, and grow in genuine love.

Keyword

Today’s Hosts and Source

Drawing on centuries of wisdom from the Christian ethical tradition, Glittering Vices takes readers on a journey of self-examination, exploring why our hearts are captivated by glittery but false substitutes for true human goodness and happiness.

Scholé Every Day: What We’re Reading

 Witness, Whittaker Chambers

Mystie’s local book club is reading this first-person historical account of communist espionage in America in the twentieth century.

The Digital Delusion, Dr. Jared Cooney Horvath

Abby shares her latest book in her research into analog learning.

How to Think Like Aquinas, Kevin Vost

Brandy brings a book we’re all reading for a current project which is actually like a more general Scholé Every Day.

Building a vocabulary for vice

If we say that virtue is the goal of education, then we must be willing to name both virtue and vice with clarity. General language about “character” will not carry us very far. We need words that are specific enough to help us discern what is actually happening in ourselves and in our children.

Many of us feel this gap. We cannot readily name the theological virtues or the cardinal virtues without pausing to recall them. That lack of precision matters. When our vocabulary is thin, our discernment is also thin. We sense that something is wrong, but we cannot identify it clearly enough to address it.

This problem is not merely personal; it is cultural. Over time, the vocabulary used to describe sin has been softened, replaced, or set aside. Certain words begin to sound outdated or harsh, and so they fall out of use. But when the words disappear, the ability to recognize the realities they describe often disappears with them. If we cannot name a sin, we will struggle to notice it. And if we do not notice it, we will not repent of it.

Repentance requires specificity. It is not enough to feel vaguely troubled. We must be able to say what the sin is. Naming brings clarity. What once seemed harmless or insignificant can be seen more truthfully when it is called by its proper name. That act of naming is often a turning point, because it allows us to move from confusion to action.

If education is repentance, then a part of repentance is naming the sin properly.

Mystie Winckler

This is true in our own lives, and it is just as true in our work as parents. If we hope to train our children in virtue, we must be able to identify vice accurately. Otherwise we will overlook it, excuse it, or misread it. Clear language equips us to respond rightly.

The goal is not technical precision for its own sake. The goal is moral clarity. When we recover the language of virtue and vice, we sharpen our ability to see. And when we see more clearly, we are better able to repent, to grow, and to lead our children in the same path.

What is envy?

f we are going to identify and resist envy, we must first define it carefully. Our language tends to blur important distinctions. We often use envy, jealousy, and covetousness interchangeably, but they do not name the same reality. Without clarity here, we will misidentify the problem and fail to address it.

Covetousness is the desire to have what another person has. It can be directed toward possessions, relationships, or circumstances. It says, “I want that.” It may be disordered, but it does not necessarily include hostility toward the other person. It would be satisfied, at least in theory, by obtaining the desired thing.

Jealousy, by contrast, concerns what we already possess. It is the desire to guard something that rightfully belongs to us. In that sense, it is not always wrong. A husband may rightly be jealous for his wife, and Scripture speaks of God as jealous for His people. Jealousy seeks to protect a given relationship or possession from being taken away.

Envy goes further than either of these. Envy is not only the desire for what another has, but resentment that they have it at all. It says, “I deserve that—and they should not have it.” It is characterized by a kind of bitterness toward another person’s good. It does not simply want the thing; it wants the other person to be brought down.

This is why envy is so closely tied to comparison and status. It is not merely concerned with external goods, but with what those goods signify. A possession, ability, or achievement becomes important because it appears to confer worth, honor, or standing. The envious person interprets another’s success as evidence of their own deficiency. Not having the thing feels like being less.

For this reason, envy often appears within close circles. We are less likely to envy those far removed from us and more likely to envy those who are comparable—those whose lives intersect with our own. It is the peer, the neighbor, the fellow church member whose advantages provoke irritation or unease. Their success feels like a personal diminishment.

Envy also has a distinctive fruit: it takes a secret satisfaction in another’s downfall. When someone who seemed to be ahead falters, there can be a quiet sense of relief or even pleasure. The imbalance has been corrected; the comparison feels more tolerable. This response reveals that envy was never only about acquiring something. It was about removing a rival.

Because envy attaches itself to perceived worth, it is often rooted in insecurity. It depends on a comparative framework in which value is measured against others. Within that framework, another person’s excellence becomes a threat rather than a good to be received with gratitude.

To define envy, then, is to expose it. It is not merely wanting what another has. It is resenting another person’s good because it seems to elevate them above us. And once we see that clearly, we can begin to recognize how often it hides beneath more acceptable language—comparison, fairness, or even self-improvement—and begin the work of turning away from it.

Marxism relies on envy

Marxism is basically the institutionalization of envy.

Mystie Winckler

Envy does not remain only a private vice. It can be elevated into a principle that shapes entire systems. When that happens, it no longer hides quietly in the heart but begins to direct how people think about justice, society, and what ought to be done.

One example described is Marxism. It operates by appealing to envy and organizing society around it. The central claim is that the problem in the world is that some people have more than others, and that inequality itself must be corrected. The proposed solution is not simply to improve one’s own condition, but to bring about the downfall of those who are doing better.

In this framework, the rise of one group is tied to the destruction of another. Success is treated as something suspect, and the presence of those who excel becomes the explanation for why others are discontent. The message is that life would be better if those who have more were brought down to the same level.

This appeal is powerful because it presents itself as a concern for fairness. It adopts the language of justice, but what it often expresses is resentment. Envy disguises itself as a demand that things be made equal, even when the underlying impulse is not a love of justice but a resistance to another person’s advantage.

Yet this way of thinking misunderstands both justice and reality. People are not the same. They are given different abilities, opportunities, and responsibilities. The presence of difference is not, in itself, an injustice. When attention shifts from using what one has been given to comparing oneself with others, envy takes root.

A further consequence is that systems built on envy do not aim at genuine excellence. If success is treated as a problem, then it must be diminished. If mediocrity is rewarded and superiority is resented, the overall result is decline. Leadership weakens, progress stalls, and the standard is lowered rather than raised.

Envy also reshapes how people respond to the success or failure of others. Instead of rejoicing in what is good, there is a tendency to celebrate when those who have excelled are brought low. Public failure becomes a source of satisfaction. This reveals that the goal was never simply improvement, but the leveling of distinctions.

In this way, envy moves from a hidden sin to a public principle. It presents itself as fairness, but it works by resentment. It promises equality, but it often produces stagnation. And in the process, it trains people to look outward in comparison rather than inward in responsibility, turning attention away from faithfulness with what has been given.

Envy and mean girls

Envy often appears most clearly in social settings where comparison and status are constantly in play. Among girls, especially in early adolescence, this dynamic can become intense. The competition is not always obvious or direct, but it is deeply felt.

One of the defining features of envy is that it must remain hidden. Open malice would damage one’s reputation and lower one’s standing, so it disguises itself. What results is a social environment where hostility operates beneath the surface—masked by politeness, friendship, or concern, but active nonetheless.

This helps explain the familiar “mean girl” pattern. A girl may seek to elevate her own status by attaching herself to others, then discarding them as she moves upward. Relationships become tools rather than genuine bonds. Others are not received as companions but evaluated as competitors.

At the same time, envy does not belong only to the one who is overtly unkind. It can also shape the response of those who feel excluded. The desire to be part of a particular group, combined with resentment at being left out, can itself be a form of envy. It says, “They have something I should have, and it is wrong that I do not.”

This is why it is important to recognize that not every instance of exclusion is caused by another person’s sin. The instinct to assume that others are at fault can itself arise from the same comparative mindset. Envy can operate on both sides—both in the one asserting status and in the one who feels denied it.

Charlotte Mason’s observations about girls’ relationships are helpful here. Without a shared, outward focus, relationships can become centered on talk, which easily turns into gossip. Instead of drawing out the best in one another, girls may “contrive to get the worst” from each other. Envy feeds this pattern, encouraging criticism, comparison, and subtle undermining.

The fruit of envy in these settings is isolation. Even when there appears to be a group, the bonds are fragile. If envy is present, there is no real security. Each person is measuring herself against the others, guarding her position, and fearing being replaced. In such an environment, genuine friendship cannot take root.

Because envy hides, it often appears in small, easily overlooked ways: a dismissive comment, a qualification added to someone else’s success, a quiet satisfaction when another stumbles. These moments may seem insignificant, but they reveal a deeper disorder that, if left unchecked, shapes the entire social atmosphere.

For this reason, the primary work is not diagnosing others but examining ourselves and our children. Where is comparison driving our reactions? Where do we feel resentment at another’s good? Naming these patterns is the first step toward addressing them, so that relationships can be shaped by generosity and love rather than competition and insecurity.

The poison of envy and its antidote

Envy is not a harmless or minor vice. It strikes at the heart of relationships because it is, as was stated, the enemy of love. When envy takes hold, it distorts how we see both ourselves and others, and it reshapes our participation in community.

At its core, envy places us in constant comparison. It turns our attention toward how we rank, how we measure up, and whether others are ahead of us. Other people become threats rather than neighbors. Instead of delighting in what they bring, we evaluate their worth in relation to our own. This comparative mindset isolates us. It prevents connection because it replaces fellowship with competition.

The result is a kind of loneliness. If others are always competitors, then there is no real rest in relationships. We cannot rejoice with those who rejoice because their good feels like our loss. We cannot fully participate in the life of the church, where many members contribute different gifts, because envy resists the very idea that others might excel in ways we do not.

This distortion also affects how we understand ourselves. Envy is tied to insecurity and discontent. It assumes that worth is something we must secure through comparison, rather than something given by God. In that sense, it is connected to a deeper attempt to justify ourselves—socially and personally—apart from Him.

The remedy, therefore, is not found in improving our standing or balancing out comparisons. It requires leaving the comparative game altogether. We are called to find our worth in Christ, not in how we measure against others. When our identity is rooted in Him, the success or excellence of another person no longer threatens us.

From that place, a different posture becomes possible. Instead of resenting what others have, we can be grateful for it. We can recognize that God has given different gifts, abilities, and circumstances to different people. Some truly do have more or are better at certain things, and that is not a problem to be solved but a reality to receive.

Gratitude becomes a central practice. We are called to be thankful for what God has given us and also for what He has given others. Rather than diminishing another’s success with caveats or comparisons, we can give honor freely. We can rejoice in what is good, wherever it appears.

This shift also changes how we respond to excellence. Instead of wanting to surpass others, we can imitate what is good with gratitude. Seeing someone do something well becomes an opportunity to grow, not a threat to our value. This is not competition, but a kind of zeal—a desire to pursue what is good because it is good.

Such habits can be cultivated. We can practice rejoicing in others’ accomplishments, offering sincere compliments, and showing up simply to celebrate what someone else has done. These small acts train the heart away from envy and toward love.

In the end, envy cannot be satisfied. It produces only discontent and isolation. But gratitude, rooted in a secure identity in Christ, opens the way for real fellowship, genuine joy in others, and a life no longer governed by comparison.

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