The Victorians were big into social measurement too. Who got to sashay into into the dining room first was a big matter of concern. Which came first, the duke or the earl? The younger son of earl or the baron? Well, first and foremost, remember at your next dinner party that the Archbishop of Canterbury comes first, dear. Then a duke, followed by a marquis, an earl, a viscount, and then a baron. These are all considered peers of the queen. After that is a baronet and a knight, but they hardly count for anything. Pish. That troublesome younger son of the earl? He comes further down the line than the barons, but before Knights of the Garter.
Social standing is not so antiquated as we pretend it is. We all see it, we want it, and it happens. We may not bedeck ourselves with badges of rank as blatant as crowns and stripes, but it is just as much a part of our society.
What can we do when the green eyed monster hits? When the snotty kids gets the pony we yearned for? When the pimply faced lazy teenager gets the Porsche? When the flippant man gets the job we've been working so hard for? When our fondest wish goes to someone else?
What's even weirder is when someone is jealous of the good that comes your way. When they won't speak to you because you buy a new car. When they won't call when you buy a new house. We'll go for a ride you say. Come over, we'll have a party. Those things don't matter, you do. But they won't listen.
I think the Psalmist had it right when he said my cup runneth over. No gills or hogsheads mattered to him. Measuring was of no consequence. The good he had was endless, it was new every morning. We can touch the fringes of eternity, which is measureless. Let that be what we remember.
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