At the same time, we love a good show: the Superbowl, the Blue Angels, fireworks on the 4 th of July, New York City lights, the Oscars, Las Vegas, Broadway. We are direct and open, plain-speaking people of our word who do not put on airs. Our egalitarian, ‘hard-won by hard-work’ cultural ideals shine through here. Who doesn’t want a favorable audience, or even just a few people to affirm our likeability? What if our sense of our worthiness depends on it?Īmericans seem to prize authenticity and being the genuine article. Before we step out of the door in the morning, we make sure that we have assumed whatever armor or cosmetic artistry or assumed superhero costume we need before we face our public. Sometimes we don’t feel up to public scrutiny, or we want to avoid shame, or we are sure we will score too low in on the public opinion poll. But vainglory can also take a fearful form-when shame or concern for others’ disapproval ratings leads us to conceal what we really are and project a masked version of ourselves instead. What happens when we start to believe in our own spin? Vainglory can take an arrogant form-showing off our own goodness when we deem it worthy of the limelight. Before we scoff at those who parade around or patronize the local tavern hoping for some easy acclaim, though, we might consider the ways we craft our own public image-with embellished resumes and framed credentials on the wall, cars and homes, and clothes that reflect the respectable image of success we hope to signal, and attention-dominating conversations that revolve around what we know, what we think, and what we feel. One pop star, whose elaborate outfits and wildly choreographed videos were sensational by any standard, describes herself as a “master of the art of fame.” In more comic form, Gaston, the buff buffoon of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, shows us a character who needs the crowd of fawning onlookers to reassure him of his likeability. But the vice of vainglory makes clear that being in the public eye can bring a different set of temptations to our doorstep. Being out of the public eye, with the accountability it affords, can bring certain kinds of temptation (lust, gluttony, stealing). It takes integrity to stay true to what is good and right in all circumstances. NCAA coach John Wooden famously said that character is who you are when no one else is looking. Being noticed, and noticed for the right things, or making sure that you are signaling the right things or presenting yourself in the right way, can preoccupy our thoughts, shape our desires, and constrain how we carefully curate our public image and the actions we are willing to take. The trouble begins when such attention and appreciation becomes excessive, or we grow too attached to it. A glorious sunset or musical performance counts as goodness that is “shown and known”-and appreciated and applauded as such. “Glory” describes cases of goodness that were manifested publicly or somehow on display. Pride focuses on status, while vainglory is about the show. Not to be confused with pride, which was a vice focused on one’s superiority, vainglory’s focus was on attention and approval from others. Why was vainglory on the list of vices, and what kind of threat did it pose to personal and communal character? But it names something that still has a lot of traction in both our personal and political lives. That’s an unfamiliar term to most of us nowadays. The longer list of vices included something called vainglory. Rooting out these vices meant greater freedom to pursue a life of virtue. The “capital vices” named allegiances to self and stuff over more lasting, self-transcendent goods, including flourishing relationships with each other. As they articulated and diagnosed these habitually disordered desires, the (in)famous list was born. Achieving that goal meant overcoming obstacles within ourselves with both grace and discipline. The early Christian communities who invented the list incorporated it into a larger project-the aim of a virtuous and well-lived life of full integrity. The list of eight or nine likely functioned more like a “top ten” list of the most common human character flaws. It may be discouraging to note, but the list of seven deadly sins originally included even more than seven options.
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