Some years ago my wife and I attended a homeschooling conference in Baltimore. It was my first and only visit to that historic city. The town itself was interesting; nothing to write home about, but not without its appeal.
I'll tell you one thing, they are certainly proud of their crab cakes. Oh they were good, all right. Cost an arm and a leg ... but they were good.
The best part of our visit, by far, was the conference. It was geared toward Catholic families and featured many interesting speakers (the keynote was a television personality and author by the name of Raymond Arroya. If you're familiar with EWTN you may know who I'm talking about. Anyone interested in a great testament to the power of prayer should read his biography of Mother Angelica, the founder of the popular religious network).
One of the most memorable talks I attended, however, was given by a college president named Dr. Bill Thierfelder from Belmont Abbey College in North Carolina. A very dynamic orator with a history of coaching numerous sports at the college level, he addressed various competition-related faith issues; particularly the virtues.
I will never forget his discussion of Pride. Rather than being a virtue, "Pride" is generally regarded as one of the "seven deadly sins" (along with the likes of sloth, gluttony, lust, etc). That's not how today's society views pride.
Though our culture is heavily influenced by Christianity, we have somehow bought into understanding pride not as a vice but as a benign, everyday attribute. True, you will still hear quotes such as "pride goeth before the fall" — a paraphrasing of Proverbs 16:18 — but, in general, we think nothing of expressing the "pride" we feel when discussing our nation, sports team or family; myself included. Why is that?
I think part of it is just the evolution of language. Gay. Cool. Tight. These are just a few words that have morphed over the past generation or so into something unrecognizable to its original intent. Webster's may still list the previous definition, but more often than not — especially if the speaker is less than 30 — you will hear the word used in a more modern context.
Pride may be just such a victim, but I don't think that explains the bulk of the problem (and I do think it's a problem). For one, we are more and more a society of egoists. Maybe it's the nature of the dog-eat-dog world of getting ahead but we are often caught up in self-promotion. The job market being what it is, perhaps it's understandable. Personally, I'll take humility over hubris any day.
For all our bravado, we are also becoming a society of insecure victims whose self-worth is often determined by our popularity. If we can't get enough people to "like" our Facebook status or pat us on the back we are somehow less of a person. I blame parents for not instilling self-confidence in their children. Unfortunately, it is often the mother or father's own lack of self-approval that naturally leads to this self-perpetuating cycle.
Finally, there's the sense of personal accomplishment we somehow feel entitled to when someone close to us, particularly our own prodigy, achieve well-deserved recognition. Just the other day before the Easter Vigil Mass at our church, I was asked by a well-intentioned friend: "how big is your chest?" At first I took the question literally and thought he was inquiring as to my coat size, then he gave me a grin and noted how "proud" I must be of my 16 year old son, Patrick, who was at that moment practicing to lead the congregation as cantor.
Other than providing the necessary fathering appropriate for a child (you know: food, shelter, education) and, hopefully, enough love and encouragement to give him the above noted self-confidence to step up to the plate in the first place, the talent and accomplishment is all his. And while I would certainly discourage him from exhibiting the vice of pride with regard to his own talents, the idea that I might feel a sense of personal pride with regard to his accomplishments shows the true evolution of the term.
Which reminds me of the Thierfelder talk. One of the ways he said he dealt with the problem of falling into "pride" with regard to his own children was to use more descriptive words for what it is that he is feeling when they accomplish something praiseworthy.
Rather than tell his children that he is "proud" of them he notes, instead, that they bring him "great joy". I enjoyed the lecture so much I bought the CD recording and played it for my wife (she had attended a different presentation at the time in an attempt for us to "divide and conquer" at the conference).
Within a few weeks, Trish found herself in a situation where she could put this knew-found verbage into use. Having picked up our daughter Annie's report card from school and noting how well she had done that semester (and knowing how hard she had worked to accomplish those grades) she saw Annie across the street and attempted to give her kudos from a distance.
"I'm so proud of you", she mouthed from behind the car window. When Annie, who obviously did not understand what her mother was trying to say, gave a puzzled look in reply, Trish immediately thought of the virtue lesson and, holding up the report card and rolling down her window shouted "You give me great joy!"
Her beaming daughter's reaction was evidence enough of the power of the message. Indeed, our children bring us great joy.
Michael Artigues, a McComb pediatrician, writes regularly on family and social issues, or whatever strikes his fancy. “meus axilla” is Latin for “my armpit,” which he chose as the title of his blog in honor of his dad, who says that opinions are like armpits: everybody has them and everybody else’s stinks.
