Wednesday, March 24, 2010

March 22: Saint Lea

First, let me say that I'm going to come away from this post looking petty, small, possibly ungracious. I know this for a fact. I won't even like me by the time I'm done writing this. I am once again exposing myself as a jealous, ego maniacal jerk. So be it. Amen.

One of my coworkers and best friends won an award for Employee of the Month yesterday. It's an award I've been nominated for on three occasions and have failed to win. I'm beginning to feel like Susan Lucci at the Emmys. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. The chances of winning the award are slim, and once a person from a department wins, the rest of the department's employees are pretty much screwed for the next few years.

So, here I sit in a quandary. I'm happy for my friend who won, and I'm pissed it wasn't me. I go through this process every time someone with whom I work receives recognition, deserved or undeserved. If the recognition is undeserved, I have the consolation of being able to make snide and bitchy comments like "You winning this award makes me realize how unimportant it really is." If the recognition is deserved (as it is in this case), it makes things stickier. I can't make a snarky comment without looking, well, snarky, and I can't just say "congratulations" and excuse myself from the celebration without looking, well, snarky. There you go. That's my situation in a nutshell, and you can now begin to heap abuse on my uncelebrated, unrecognized head.

As I said, I am sincerely happy for my friend, and she knows this. She also knows that I am going to blog about her winning and told me, "I'm almost more excited about the blog than about winning." She knows this situation will send me into a little tailspin of catty commentary, and she sort of revels in it. Who doesn't like to be envied? It's the reason we all do things like drive around to visit friends in our new car or write those insipid Christmas letters which tout our children's finger-painting abilities. Everyone wants to feel superior every once in a while. It's my friend's turn right now, regardless of how many times she says, "I'm humbled by this honor." (I think I would be happier if she said something like "In your face, sucker!")

To be fair, this friend has had a hell of a time these past couple months. Her son, who has addiction problems, recently tried to commit suicide. While he was hospitalized, he was diagnosed with bipolar and a mood disorder. That's just since February. If anyone deserves a little good juju right now, it's her.

However, even knowing all this doesn't take away the sting from the news of her victory, and my friend made it even worse by saying to me, "I'm sorry, Martin." Humility is being forced down my throat, and it's beginning to irritate the shit out of me. Sometimes, God is like my nine-year-old daughter. He knows just what buttons to push to make me feel simultaneously angry and ashamed.

Lea, today's saint, doesn't provide much comfort, either. In fact, she sort of rubs salt in my wounds. Most of the information about her comes from a letter written by Saint Jerome to a friend. Jerome is praising Lea' s virtues over a person of renown who, like Lea, had died recently. This renowned consul comes off sounding vain and petty (sound familiar?), while Lea comes away sounding like, you got it, a saint:

Who will praise the blessed Lea as she deserves? She renounced painting her face and adorning her head with shining pearls. She exchanged her rich attire for sackcloth and ceased to command others in order to obey all. She dwelt in a corner with a few bits of furniture; she spent her nights in prayer and instructed her companions through her example rather than through protests or speeches. And she looked forward to her arrival in heaven in order to receive her recompense for the virtues that she practiced on earth.

So it is that thenceforth Lea enjoyed perfect happiness. From Abraham's bosom, where she resides with Lazarus, she sees our consul who was once decked out in purple now vested in a shameful robe, vainly begging for a drop of water to quench his thirst. Although he went up to the capital to the plaudits of people, and his death occasioned widespread grief, it is futile for the wife to assert that he has gone to heaven and possesses a great mansion there. The fact is that he is plunged into the darkness outside, whereas Lea who was willing to be considered a fool on earth has been received into the house of the Father, at the wedding feast of the Lamb.

Hence, I tearfully beg you to refrain from seeking the favors of the world and to renounce all that is carnal. It is impossible to follow both the world and Jesus. Let us live a life of renunciation, for our bodies will soon be dust and nothing else will last any longer.

Wise words from a holy man. Earthly glory really is fleeting and unimportant in the great scheme of the universe. It puts everything into perspective.

I wonder if Jerome would write a letter nominating me for Employee of the Month.

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