Sin of Pride—The Elder Son

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

“Now the serpent was more subtle than any other wild creature that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?’ And the woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden, but God said, You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’ But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die, for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil’” (Gen. 3:1-5).

Genesis doesn't waste any time. Before speaking about the serpent in Chapter 3, the devil is presented as this sly, furtive creature, and as being very clever. The devil knows how to catch us out.

There was a lady who went to the sales one time in a big store, and she happened to notice a beautiful dress. It was the right size, it was a beautiful color—it was just perfect for her. But then she looked at the price, and it was way above her budget.

She realized—no, this cannot be. She went off to do her shopping, but all the time the dress was on her mind, so she went back to have another look, because maybe, she got the price wrong.

When she went back to look, the dress was still as beautiful, still the right size, and the price hadn't changed either.

Then she saw—no, this cannot be. If my husband heard I spent that amount on the dress, he'd be fuming. She went off to do more shopping. Then she went back to have another look, and the same thing. She went back to do more shopping.

When she was leaving the store, she decided to go back and have one last look, and she bought it.

It took a few days before her husband found out how much she had spent on the dress. And when he found out, he said to her, “When you had the temptation to buy the dress, why didn't you say, ‘Get behind me, Satan?’” (Matt. 16:23).

And she said, “I did. But then I looked at it from behind, and it looked just as good.”

The serpent is more subtle than any other wild creature that the Lord God had made. He's clever. He knows how to catch us out; he helps us to see things as right, which we want to be right.

He makes a three-pronged attack on Eve: “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?’” (Gen. 3:1).

He absolutizes the command. Imagine if the garden of Paradise was the size of a forest or some enormous park, and they're not allowed to eat the fruit of any tree. It would be an impossible situation.

The devil makes God out to be a killjoy. Often, the enemies of the Church do something similar. They accuse the Church of taking all the fun out of sex.

The reality is that the Church has maintained and taught the truth, the beauty, of human love for all creation down through the centuries. Truth, beauty, and meaning of human love.

The devil absolutizes the command and makes it sound ridiculous, when in fact, the opposite is the truth. There's just one tree that they cannot eat.

“The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden, but God said, You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die’” (Gen. 3:2-3). Eve clarifies the commandment that they've been given.

But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die.” Now, he contradicts what God had said. And finally, the third blow: “‘For God knows that when you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil’” (Gen. 3:4-5).

God knows. Now the devil portrays God as a deceitful God. He doesn't want your eyes to be opened. He wants to keep you in your blindness.

This temptation—the temptation to be like God—is the temptation of pride. Knowing good and evil, you can decide what is right and wrong.

Pope Benedict calls this the error of moral relativism (Homily, May 26, 2006). We decide what's right and wrong depending on circumstances, on our feelings, on a whole pile of very flimsy things.

“When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and there was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate” (Gen. 3:6).

We can tell ourselves all sorts of things that we want to be true.

“She also gave some to her husband and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves aprons” (Gen. 3:6-7).

Their eyes were opened, all right—but in a very different way to what they had imagined.

“They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord” (Gen. 3:8).

Before, they had a very open, intimate relationship with God. They talked to Him; He talked to them, but now they hide themselves. There is shame—shame because of sin. They've discovered their nakedness.

They've come to realize that they've lost the great gifts that God had given to them in the garden of Paradise: the gifts of immortality, of impassibility, of rectitude, of knowledge.

John Paul calls this the ‘shameful nudity.’ If you go to Rome or some other major cities, you may find an awful lot of nudity on the streets, but if you go inside the Vatican, you can find even more nudity inside the Vatican than you do outside. What's the difference?

Pope St. John Paul says the nudity in the streets of Rome is a shameful nudity—a nudity that's meant to arouse the passions—whereas that inside the Vatican in sculptures and paintings is a shameless nudity. It portrays the beauty of the human body, the Theology of the Body.

He consecrated the Sistine Chapel to a shrine [sanctuary] to the Theology of the Body (John Paul II, Homily, April 8, 1994). He ordered painters to take away the loincloths that had been painted over some of the nude paintings.

He said, “When the cardinals come to elect my successor in the Sistine Chapel, I hope they will look up and be as inspired as Michelangelo was when he painted those paintings.”

“But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, ‘Where are you?’” (Gen. 3:9).

Now this ‘where are you’ is not ‘state your longitude and latitude.’ It's more to ‘where have you fallen?’

See, God created man and lifted him up to a supernatural level, lifted him up to the order of grace to live as a child of God. And now through sin he has fallen.

This statement gives us an indication of the gravity of sin—in particular, of mortal sin, but also all sin: “‘Where are you?’” To where have you fallen?

There was a little girl once who was being prepared for First Holy Communion, and she heard from her teacher that when we receive the sacraments, we get divine grace, and this grace washes away sins from our soul, but it also lifts us up, elevates us to a supernatural level, because we have a supernatural destiny.

It allows us to perform supernatural actions. The little girl thought this was fantastic! This was the best thing she had ever heard in her life, and she had seen movies of Batman and Batwoman, and Superman and Superwoman, and Spiderman and Spiderwoman. Now she hears that she can perform a supernatural action.

She decided the best thing she could do was to go home and baptize her pet dog, Rufus. She went home and she brought Rufus to the bathroom, and she filled a mug with water and poured it over the head of Rufus.

She said, “Now Rufus, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Now Rufus, you should be able to perform a supernatural action, an action above your nature. Talk to me Rufus, talk to me.”

The story ended with Rufus beginning to talk, and saying, “You’ll have to be patient with me while I learn to talk because I'm not used to talking.”

For Rufus to talk, it would be an action above his nature. This story can give us an idea of what it means that we are called to a supernatural end, to live a life of grace, to live in the dignity of the children of God.

It helps us to see the evil nature of sin—that sin is the only real evil. We have to try and avoid it at all costs, and try to live the life of grace, get to Confession frequently, keeping our soul clean, and develop a hatred for sin and a fear of it.

That means also keeping ourselves distant from anything that might lead us into sin. An occasion of sin is any external circumstance that might lead us into sin. These are very basic and clear ideas, yet very powerful ones.

A Dutch missionary priest in Singapore told me how one of the most moving moments of his priestly life happened when he was asked to go and see an elderly Dutch lady who was in the hospital, who had been diagnosed with cancer. She'd been away from the sacraments for many years.

He went to see her and he spoke to her in Dutch, and they chatted for a while. Then he said, “The moment came when I had to ask her the $64,000 question, which was, ‘Would you like me to hear your Confession?’”

And she gave the $64,000 answer, which was, “Oh, I have nothing to confess.”

He chatted to her for another little while and encouraged her, and finally she said, “Okay, if it will make you happy, I will go to Confession.”

She went to Confession, and he said, “When she finished her Confession, and I'd given her the absolution, she put her head back in the pillow, and then she said, ‘Now it is really Easter.’”

He said, “I was so impressed by that. Here was this woman who'd been away from the sacraments for decades, but she still remembered everything she learned at her first Holy Communion.”

She knew what Good Friday was. She knew what the death of Christ on the Cross was—the graces that He won, how He'd overcome sin, death, and the devil.

She knew what the Resurrection was—that sign of hope, that central mystery of our faith, Christ conquers all, victory!

She seemed to sum up the whole of Christian teaching with that simple phrase, “Now, it is really Easter.”

Every time we go to Confession, we could say the same thing: “Now, it is really Easter.” Time for us to begin again, to live the life of grace, to start over, to take better care of our spiritual life.

There's a story told about a lady from the States in the early 1960’s who wanted to go to Confession to Padre Pio.

She flew across the Atlantic and she landed in Rome early on a Sunday morning. She felt a bit tired, so she decided she would take a nap and she would catch a late morning Mass.

But when she fell asleep, she slept the sleep of the just and she woke up at three o'clock in the afternoon.

She realized she had missed Mass. There were no evening Masses in those days, but she knew she hadn't committed a mortal sin because she didn't really mean to miss Mass, until the following day when she went to Confession to Padre Pio, and she confessed her sins.

When she finished, he said to her, “Is that everything?”

She said, “Yes.” And he said, “Are you sure?” And she said, “Yes.”

He said, “Well, what about yesterday when you flew across the Atlantic and you landed in Rome, and you lay down to take a nap, and you slept the sleep of the just and you woke up at three o'clock in the afternoon, and you missed Mass?”

He said, “I know you didn't commit a mortal sin because you didn't mean to miss Mass, but your negligence hurt Our Lord.”

The saints functioned in the realm of negligence. It wasn't a matter of whether it was mortal or venial, but “your negligence hurt Our Lord.”

Committing a sin is not breaking the law. When we break the law, often we're not sorry. We can be delighted, especially if we're not caught.

Sorrow for sin is sorrow because we hurt someone we loved.

That's why it's a good idea before we go to Confession to look at a crucifix or to contemplate the Sorrowful Mysteries, or just try and stir up in our soul a more profound sorrow for having hurt someone that we loved.

Sin is love of self. It's saying no to God. It is said that all sins are sins of pride. Pride is love of me.

It's being what the devil told Eve, “Your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God” (Gen. 3:5).

Wanting to be like God is pride. Our greatest defect is pride. Sometimes we don't see it, but in this retreat, we could ask Our Lord for the grace to see our pride a little more, a little clearer.

As we grow in life, we might begin to see aspects of our pride that we never saw before. That doesn't mean we're getting worse. Those things have always been there, but just Our Lord is letting us see them a little clearer.

“Now the elder son was out in the fields, and on his way back, as he drew near the house, he could hear music and dancing.

“Calling one of the servants, he asked him what this was all about. The servant told him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the calf we've been fattening, because he has gotten him back safe and sound.’ He was angry then and refused to go in, and his father came out and began to urge him to come in” (Luke 15:25-28).

Fast temper is fast pride.

This elder son is an interesting character portrait because he portrays each one of us. The younger son is the prodigal son that gathers up all his wealth and goes off, spends some time in riotous living, but he comes back. He has a new conversion. He starts over.

The elder son doesn't go away. He seems to be the better person initially, but when we delve into his character, we find that maybe that's not so.

He's working on his father's farm, but he's not working with love. He's more like a mercenary.

He gets angered easily. He's full of self-righteousness. He's industrious and faithful, but he's mean, jealous, selfish. He has a bit of a temper. He doesn't put his heart into what he's doing.

He doesn't really love his father. He's working on his father's farm, but he's like a hired hand. He's full of selfishness. He doesn’t put his heart into it.

The mercy of his father irritates him. The joy of his brother gives him a bitter taste. He should have been able to be happy because his brother has come back.

We find he's very much in need of reconciliation. The reconciliation that his younger brother has found—he doesn't find.

We're not told eventually that he comes into dinner. He's full of bitter zeal. He fulfills his duty but there's no love there. He seems to say, ‘I'm doing so much work, whereas others are not working.’ He’s mean-spirited.

“He retorted to his father, ‘All these years I've slaved for you. I never once disobeyed any order of yours. Yet you never offered me so much as a kid for me to celebrate with my friends’” (Luke 15:29).

What's he complaining about? Well, what does he really want? A goat. “You never gave me a goat to celebrate with my friends.”

He wanted to be the center of attention, the salt of every dish. ‘Why wasn't I told? Nobody tells me anything around here.’ ‘How hard I work, how little I complain!’ ‘I'm not appreciated.’ ‘Nobody cares about me.’

He's like a spoiled child full of vanity, envy, jealousy. ‘All my efforts are not recognized. Look at how hard I work.’ He seems to say there's no justice.

“‘For this son of yours, when he comes back after swallowing up your property, he and his loose women, you kill the calf we have been fattening!’” (Luke 15:30).

He's full of justice and responsibility, but there's no mercy. He crucifies his brother with his pride. He seems to have a very cold heart, very much in need of conversion.

The picture is very ugly. Selfishness is always ugly. He has to share his share with his brother, but he has a bone to pick with his father.

His father tries to tell him, ‘All I have is yours. What is important is your brother.’ But he doesn't get the message.

“‘My son, you are with me always, and all I have is yours. But it was only right that we should celebrate and rejoice, because your brother here was dead and has come to life; he was lost and is found’” (Luke 15:31-32).

He's very independent. He wants things his own way, not what his father wills. He says, ‘I deserve it.’ He was older; he should have known better. He doesn't realize that what he has is a gift of God. He takes it all for granted.

‘My hard work is all mine to keep—all my effort, my compensation.’ He forgets that others need forgiveness and tenderness.

He seems to be a habitual complainer and criticizer. He seems to be full of dialogue with himself, judgmental of his brother. It's as though his obedience to his father is not from an interior acceptance and freedom, but rather that he fulfills his duty in an external way.

He behaves, not like a son of the family, but like an ungrateful and resentful servant. He views things from the outside, like a stranger.

The problems and the sufferings of his father are foreign to him. He doesn't hope to see his brother again, nor does he receive him with joy.

Rather, his selfishness makes him jealous—hardens his heart, blinds him, shuts him off from other people. For him, the happiness of his brother who has been found has a bitter taste.

Every human being is a bit like this older brother in need of conversion. When we're younger, we’re like the younger son. When we get older, full of pride, we're like the older one.

His father speaks gently to him, man to man. He calls him to conversion, but in his case, it requires fraternal understanding, respect for the person, and the joyful apostolate of example.

We're not told that he responds or gets the message.

We should watch out for our self-love when we have vain thoughts—or, ‘all the glory to me!’—or when we don't accept the will of God.

It’s difficult to say things to this older brother. He seems to know everything already. His viewpoint—he has it all figured out. He's full of self-exaltation. He sees only the sins of others and refuses to see his own imperfections.

If we love with a heart full of pride, our love becomes conditional. We will show love only if others behave according to our will. With pride we see ourselves as God, judging others according to our will.

Pride does not allow us to love with the love necessary to win others to God's love. This fellow is living in the house of love and mercy. The father is such a good father.

We were told earlier that, “The father saw the younger son coming while he was still a long way off” (Luke 15:20).

Every day the father was hoping that his son would return, scanning the horizon. And one day, he sees him, and he “runs and embraces him.”

The parable lets us look into the depths of the heart of men and of God's children. The older son refuses the father's compassion and forgiveness. He becomes the example to avoid.

The sinful, younger son is the one to imitate. The older son is detestable, but yet, God still loves him.

We're told in Christ Is Passing By, “Pride is the greatest enemy of your married life” (Josemaría Escrivá, Christ Is Passing By, Point 26). Powerful phrase.

The devil uses pride. He tries to influence everything, even the truth. The word ‘diabolic’ comes from diaballein or ‘to tear apart.’ The devil is the source of all disunity.

Fulton Sheen says there are two clear signs of the devil in the world: one is violence, and the other is nudity. Plenty of both around.

For those older in the spiritual life, the devil can often attack through the appearance of good—charity versus responsibility—but all temptations are overcome with prayer and humility, serving and passing unnoticed, surrendering our own opinion.

Pride leads us to think that we have the whole picture when we don’t. It makes us convinced that we do. We always have to try and leave room just in case.

Pride is often tied to our imagination, not to reality—to unreal situations, imaginary slights. We need to have fortitude in controlling our imagination, thinking that everyone else should be perfect and have no miseries.

This person told me once, “I realized that all the little things that irritate and annoy me—if I was really humble, they wouldn't bother me.”

Small things, maybe things that irritate us, often can be the things that really make us lose our peace. We have to watch out for vanity, for temper, for complaining, for not accepting the will of God, being overly sensitive.

Pride is a flower that grows in the devil's garden. C. S. Lewis says, “A prideful person is always looking down on things and people; and of course, as long as you're looking down, you can't see what is above you.”

St. Thomas Aquinas says we can only find happiness in God, because He is the Author of happiness.

Our Lady said in the Magnificat, “He has looked upon the lowliness of his handmaid” (Luke 1:48). She gives us the key to conquering our pride, to growing in humility.

We stay close to Our Lady, and she'll help us to be able to see our pride, and hopefully, to be able to do something about it.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

SMF