In his excellent The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning mentions the limited Antonio Salieri, court composer to the Holy Roman Emperor, who was conscientious, devout, and wildly jealous of the wildly gifted Mozart who–neither conscientious, nor devout–tossed off sublime music in the interludes of a life of “wine, women and song, and he didn’t sing much.”
Nevertheless, at the end of each piece of limited, uninspired music, Salieri added a postscript, “Grazie Signore.” Thank you, Lord.
Manning continues,“Grazie Signore, for other people who have greater gifts than mine.”
And that was a prayer I had never thought of praying.
* * *
Those of us brought up by restless parents with unfulfilled ambitions—and I guess that’s many of us!!—have, from childhood, absorbed ambition and striven to be the best, to win the prize, the first prize, if there are two.
An Oxford undergraduate recently told me that at school, she had to be the thinnest, the cleverest, the best in every field she was interested in, and there were many. At Oxford, however, faced with myriad people just like her, this drive made her ricochet between anorexia and bulimia. And exhaustion. Always exhaustion.
Oh, I know all about burnout and exhaustion (though not about slenderness!)
“If you do one good deed, your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one,” C. S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy. Since success elevates us to a vaster ocean, this drive to be the best will inevitably burn us out and exhaust us, diminishing potential achievement.
And worse, should God ever grant a foolish Salieriesque desire to be the best, some interest and challenge would leach away from our world. It is a blessing I take for granted—that in my social circles, professional circles and online circles, I continually encounter those who are more intellectually gifted, creatively gifted, spiritually gifted, and better read. Always someone to learn from.
We all take that blessing for granted. Even the greatest living scripture expositor, speaker, scholar, writer, prophet or mystic still has much to learn…from the great cloud of witnesses who have gone before us, leaving silvery snail trails to inspire…
So that’s it for envy—an occupational hazard of writers, according to Bonnie Friedman in her Writing Past Dark. Let me shed it with unforgiveness, and other cancers of the mind.
Grazie Signore, I resolve to inwardly rejoice whenever I read a writer or a blogger quite obviously better than I am.
Grazie Signore, for all those who write with the pen of angels, for they fill the world with exquisite language.
Grazie Signore, for original thinkers who make me too think.
Grazie Signore for the well-stocked mind of scholars.
Grazie Signore for all those who garden better than I, for in meandering around their gardens, I learn.
Grazie Signore for those read your word more deeply than I do, for they show me new things in it.
Grazie Signore, for those who encounter you more deeply than I do, who see your face more clearly, hear your voice more distinctly, for I learn more about you from them.
Grazie Signore, for those who are spiritually gifted, the speakers who revive my flagging spiritual fervour; the prophets who can tune into your thoughts; the mystics who can see your face and feel your heartbeat.
Grazie Signore, for the world so rich, so full of gifts, which you pour freely on all men and women.
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Brennan Manning’s prayer: Grazie Signore, thank you, Lord, for those who have greater gifts. 
More from my site
Seeking a God’s Eye View of Success
The True Fairy Tale of the Life of Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury
On Prayer-Walking, Seeking the Kingdom and Getting it All Thrown in
On Choosing Happiness Today
Let me be singing when the evening comes 
The Root of Peace (from Brennan Manning’s “Ragamuffin Gospel”)
Point well taken.
Thanks, Hunter!
I continue to love your blog posts, Anita. I wonder whether you should even entertain the thought of others being “better” (except that it is clear from what you write that it motivates you to achieve even more, as an expression of your true self). Your writing differs from that of others, certainly, and it may not always ring to the ear like some famous works. (But it needs to be said that even Mozart must have produced some mediocre stuff at times.) Nevertheless, it’s easy to see that you have paid a price to develop your craft, to a degree that it has become a vehicle for the anointing you also carry. Perhaps anointing is enough, but when artistry is added to it, something wonderful happens. I’d say that you do have this combination.
People do need to value both gifting and hard work, because otherwise, we’d have a Communist system in which everyone is the same and nobody is motivated to create anything of lasting value. Still, the whole notion of better and worse implies a man-made system of determining worth that undermines our appreciation of the uniqueness of God-created individuals. I think it’s best to ask whether we’re developing our gifts as the truest expression of our purpose and identity. When I was growing up, learning to play an instrument, I admired recordings of the great concertos. For some people, it could be discouraging to compare themselves with great performers. But for me, after a certain point, it was inspiring. I started to practice more and more, once I began to realize that I could create something in my own way. Now, many years later, I realize that as a youth I was able to sense something of my destiny. Although I’m not a professional musician, I’m thankful for having been allowed to participate in many occasions of worship-filled beauty. God only knows what the lasting fruit will be for others, but for me, all the effort has been worthwhile.
“Anointing,” what a wonderful word. It’s something I have long prayed for, and deeply desire, so thank you for encouraging me, Don, and thank you too for your kind words about artistry, which is something too I have long desired.
Thank you for following my blog for so long.
I am not musical at all, though I love listening to worship music. Participating in many occasions of worship-filled beauty–how lovely!