Gregorius Moralia EN 586
586 But why do we say all this of envy if we do not show how it may be uprooted? It is difficult not to envy someone who possesses what we hope to gain. Whatever temporal goods are attained, they become less valuable insofar as they are divided up among many. And so envy tortures the mind's of the one who desires them because either another takes what he desires from him entirely or at least takes some part of it. Whoever wants to be entirely free of the plague of envy must love that inheritance that is not limited by any number of co-heirs. It is one and the same, all and entire, to one and all. It is revealed to be that much more abundant, the more the multitude of those who receive it is expanded. The reduction of envy comes about through the rising affection for the sweetness that lies within, and the final death of envy is the perfect love of what is eternal. When the mind is drawn back from seeking something that must be shared among those who receive it, it loves its neighbor the more for fearing less any harm coming from the advance of another. If it is perfectly filled with love of the heavenly home, it is fully strengthened in love of neighbor. When it desires nothing of this world, there is nothing that can speak against its charity for neighbor. What is charity if not the eye of the mind? If it is touched by the dust of earthly love, soon it is wounded in its sight and draws back from the light within. But because the one who loves earthly things is an infant, and the one who desires eternity is a great man, it can appropriately be understood, "Envy slays the infant." For the only one who dies of the disease of this plague is the one who is still weak with desire.
:Appendix
587
The last paragraph of the Moralia is a lucid and memorable piece of self-revelation that tells us much about Gregory and his great work. Since this passage is little noticed even among scholars, and since it may be some time before the final volume of the present translation appears, I have thought it best to include it here.
Gregory, Moralia 35.20.49
"Now that I have finished this work, I see that I must return to myself, for our mind is much fragmented and scattered beyond itself, even when it tries to speak rightly. While we think of words and how to bring them out, those very words diminish the soul's integrity by plundering it from inside. So I must return from the forum of speech to the senate house of the heart, to call together the thoughts of the mind for a kind of council to deliberate how best I may watch over myself, to see to it that in my heart I speak no heedless evil nor speak poorly any good. The good is well spoken when the speaker seeks with his words to please only the one from whom he has received the good he has. And indeed even if I do not find for sure that have spoken any evil, still I will not claim that I have spoken no evil at all. But if I have received some good from God and spoken it, I freely admit that I have spoken it less well than I should (through my own fault, to be sure). When I turn inward to myself, pushing aside the leafy verbiage, pushing aside the branching arguments, and examine my intentions at the very root, I know it really was my intention to please God, but some little appetite for the praise of men crept in, I know not how, and intruded on my simple desire to please God. And when later, too much later, I realize this, I find that I have in fact done other than what I know I set out to do. It is often thus, that when we begin with good intentions in the eyes of God, a secret tagalong yen for the praise of our fellow men comes along, taking hold of our intentions from the side of the road. We take food, for example, out of necessity, but while we are eating, a gluttonous spirit creeps in and we begin to take delight in the eating for its own sake; so often it happens that what began as nourishment to protect our health ends by becoming a pretext for our pleasures. We must admit therefore that our intention, which seeks to please God alone, is sometimes treacherously accompanied by a less-righteous intention that seeks to please other men by exploiting the gifts of God. But if we are examined strictly by God in these matters, what refuge will remain in the midst of all this? For we see that our evil is always evil pure and simple, but the good that we think we have cannot be really good, pure and simple. But I think it worthwhile for me to reveal unhesitatingly here to the ears of my brothers everything I secretly revile in myself. As commentator, I have not hidden what I felt, and as confessor, I have not hidden what I suffer. In my commentary I reveal the gifts of God, and in my confession I uncover my wounds. In this vast human race there are always little ones who need to be instructed by my words, and there are always great ones who can take pity on my weakness once they know of it: thus with commentary and confession I offer my help to some of my brethren (as much as I can), and I seek the help of others. To the first I speak to explain what they should do, to the others I open my heart to admit what they should forgive. I have not withheld medicine from the ones, but I have not hidden my wounds and lacerations from the others. So I ask that whoever reads this should pour out the consolation of prayer before the strict judge for me, so that he may wash away with tears every sordid thing he finds in me. When I balance the power of my commentary and the power of prayer, I see that my reader will have more than paid me back if for what he hears from me, he offers his tears for me."
Gregorius Moralia EN 586