I am puzzled by the proud smugness and complacency exuded by some of the people I that have made my acquaintance throughout the days of my life. Their attitude of pure confidence, assuredness and competency in all things that they are involved with is awe-inspiring (no sarcasm intended). It would seem that pride respects no class of person, because that same confidence felt by the semi-literate high school brawler is the same one as the hard-working blue-collar family man and the same as the brilliant academic researcher, and so on.
I will try to dramatize these thoughts of mine to put them into perspective using odd examples. I’ll start with the first example…
In a schoolyard he clenches white his bleeding knuckles and strains to see the prize laying before him. Through the red blur of blood from the cut on his forehead, caused by a punch issued in desperation by his would be victim, can be seen a boy of solid build on the ground shaking, bloody, snotty; a muddy mess. The victor stands over his head and feels wave after wave of pride filling him with pleasure. Put into words he could be thinking:
<<… I am the strongest here; that prick deserved his beating; never mess with me; look at me everyone I’m on top; ha! Man, he feels pain now—good for him; it’s his justice; I delivered that shot to his head—everyone saw it; I am known now, my reputation is set; no one will mess with me; you all owe me your respect; I look down on you all…>>
Maybe this is a bit over the top, but bear with me for another example.
A stalwart 55-year-old elevator installer in perfect health has worked for 30-years and is ready to retire with a golden handshake, cashing out a year of accumulated holiday and sick leave, and topped with a rock-solid pension for life. His equally healthy yet beautiful 49-year-old wife took early retirement from the police force with a similar benefits package in order for the couple to begin a 6-month road trip across the USA and Canada. Ten years ago they had won a $500,000 jackpot during a casino trip in up-state New York. To add to their bounty, an investment tip from his employer netted them a 5-fold profit after a local-high tech start-up burst into the stars after a record-setting market IPO. Their house, a handsomely decorated manor (inherited from his mother) and full of antique furniture, showcases four acres of manicured waterfront property, including a large dock, and boat garage. A cottage nestled in central Ontario sooths the soul with it diamond-like reflection from the giant lake, dominated by three jet skis, and a twenty five-foot fishing boat and trailer keeps the family occupied during the sunny summer months of the year. Not to mention the sixty-foot motor coach, the late-model luxury sedan, that new SUV, and the restored vintage sports car with all the tools one could need. They share this with their four children with two grandchildren on the way (twins; a boy and a girl, healthy and strong). Put into words the couple if consumed with pride could be thinking:
<<..Look at us; See what we have built; God’s prosperity is smiling on us; Our hard work has paid off; God helps those who help themselves; Damn those lazy bastards; Screw those greedy prick bean counters taxing me to death—if they could tax the hairs on my ass they would send the tax man with tweezers ready to count; the poor who are lazy get what they deserve; probably drunk, junked up, and over sexed; don’t talk to me about giving hand-outs to these drags; get a friggen job you good for nothing scumbags; I have so much life left to live and enjoy (proof: my great grandmother is 110 and my grandmother ran a marathon last summer at 80! and they’re still going strong); we’re better than anyone in our neighborhood, better than those half-stock humans looking frail and decrepit only five years older than we are; look and see our superiority: my kid’s in police academy; the other kid’s a doctor; the smartest a scientist; and the best a business man; we’re the top stock in the town; everyone comes to us for advice; good for them, we know what’s best for them; they’re useless without us anyway; we’re the center of attention and for good reason they know it…>>
Harsh? Bizarre? Granted, most hard-working couples don’t share these sentiments. If they did, might the feelings of pride cause them to sputter some of this non-sense? Fully deluded their consciences flounder under the irresistible allure of the pleasure of pride. Yet the delight and enchantment bring with it a powerful temptation to incorrectly interpret their talent and social standing as some kind of license to pride. If my reader is still with me, you might like the next example.
Nobody could believe it! Before a panel of 25 globally selected music judges the precocious boy of 9 beat out every other competitor at the annual 20 Under 20 Royal Conservatory of Music competition with a heavenly rendition of Mozart’s 16th Sonata in C major. After mastering the masters of music, he was exposed at the age of 17 to visual arts and could not be stopped; one by one he knocked them down like straw men: symbolism, impressionism, post-impressionism, cubism, modern. Remind the curator at the Lennox Contemporary Arts Collection about this boy and you will force a divine chill through her spine as the images of shocking beauty momentarily fill her mind with ecstatic transcendence. Once her quivering lips return to their natural powers she will tell you that nothing shall ever approach the beauty of that boy’s work. Now a man of 22 he tired of the paintings, those galleries full of gawking critics moved to tears and handing him their hearts. Now he was seized by an unnatural motivation to excel and to conquer any subject that dare lay bare before his devouring mind. With ferocious desire he consumed the corpus of mathematics; the oeuvre of physics; the sum of theoretical astronomy; the fringes of science. Though it was not enough to limit himself the polymath decided to absorb philosophy comprising logic, esthetics, ethics, politics, and yes, that sweet, succulent, irresistible body called metaphysics. The calls kept coming in from MIT, Cambridge, and Paris. Join us, chair our team, and lead us to new horizons. At the age of 53 he had already won the Nobel Peace Prize 6 times. But there were problems. An edge began to sharpen within his soul carving out a void chasmed deeper with every concept, precept and method he discovered, developed, and assimilated from his studies and research. Lately that crater of pride began drawing to itself attention. Slowly at first, a tempting itch. Obliging he found he enjoyed it, and it began to ooze and fester filling more with pride slithering slime down the slippery walls of the chasm. He began to nurture this pool. Looking downward into it he saw himself reflected, bigger, more beautiful, beyond compare. He no longer saw other people for who they were and what they represented—i.e., the special unique creation of God—but as obstacles preventing his advancement and contenders threatening his academic hegemony. Our pool of pride takes on a life of its own and calls out “Come inside for a dip, you’ll like it here.” The irresistible waves of pleasure cause his knees to sink, and without control he stumbles into this pride drunk with intoxicant vapor. Looping with infinite regression the void grows and pride fills within it; the nothingness and emptiness produce the disintegration of the man.
Is it brash? OK, it might be. There are some coarser concepts that may need refinement. The point is that pride is unnatural and the opposite of creation. The more a person becomes pride filled, the more his humanity disappears and is replaced by the void. In the end one ceases to exist. The corollary, to be sure: being human and more alive is the goal of life and the opposite of pride.
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