HOW DO WE feel about ourselves? Are we succeeding or failing in the things that matter to us or to the people around us? If there were a social ladder to climb, would we be on one of the higher or lower rungs?

What psychologists call social comparison seems to be a relatively common human impulse. We don’t simply perceive ourselves as worthy or unworthy on the basis of who we think we are as solo individuals; we evaluate ourselves in comparison to others. On the one hand, there’s upward social comparison, in which we measure ourselves against those who seem to be higher on the ladder. And on the other, there’s downward social comparison, where the standard is those who are lower on the ladder.

Social comparison isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Hopefully, for example, when we look upward to the perfection of Jesus, it motivates us to want to be like him. But chronic social comparison can have negative effects. Constantly measuring ourselves against others above us can leave us feeling depressed or inadequate, envious or resentful, while looking in the opposite direction can make us proud and boastful. Add some anxiety to the mix, and downward social comparison can take on a more desperate tone: we need to see ourselves as better or more worthy to fend off feelings of worthlessness.

And that may mean putting others down to raise ourselves up.

CONSIDERING ALL THE problems and conflicts that plagued the church in Corinth, it’s worth pausing for a moment to consider the challenges they faced. From a Christian perspective, Corinth was a prosperous but famously pagan city. The gospel was received by the Gentiles there in the aftermath of its rejection by the Jews, who later attempted to sabotage the movement. The newly converted Christians had no Bible, no theological library, no podcasts or YouTube videos to explain the faith to them — just the teaching of Paul and the apostles.

In short, when it came to the Christian life, they were making it up as they went along. And they had a lifetime of training in secular values to overcome. It’s easy to imagine how some of the social hierarchies they took for granted were imported into the fledgling congregation, perhaps dressed up in spiritual garb.

Against that background, then, listen again to how Paul begins his description of what love doesn’t do:

[Love] does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. (1 Cor 13:4, NIV)

Let’s start with the idea of being “proud.” That’s the New International Version; the Common English Bible, the New Revised Standard, and the New American Standard all translate the word as “arrogant” instead. At root, the word suggests something “puffed up” or inflated like a balloon; metaphorically, the picture is of someone whose chest is swelled with pride. We might say they were “full of themselves.”

And that pride or arrogance has social consequences. By the time Paul gets to First Corinthians 13, he’s already used the word five times in the letter. In 4:6, for example, Paul writes that they should not be “puffed up in being a follower of one of us over against the other” — referring to the division between believers professing allegiance to different leaders. In 5:2, Paul seems flabbergasted that the Corinthians are “proud” that one of them is having an affair with his stepmother, probably because they take it as an indication of how open-minded and gracious they are.

And most importantly, in 8:1, Paul says that “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” The issue is that some of the Corinthians have rightly concluded that it’s perfectly fine to eat food sacrificed to idols, because idols aren’t really gods. But not everyone in the church has a clear conscience about it, and the ones who do are causing the ones who don’t to stumble. This is a concrete example of how their pride in what they know theologically is getting in the way of love for their brothers and sisters.

Paul also says that love does not “boast,” which carries the connotation of arrogant bragging. The word Paul uses is a rare one, found nowhere else in the New Testament. But if the word “proud” suggests being inflated and puffed up, then the word “boast” suggests a windbag, someone who’s favorite topic of conversation is him- or herself.

Thus it may be that some of the Christians in Corinth were bragging about having what they considered to be superior spiritual gifts, like speaking in tongues. Or they considered themselves to be more theologically enlightened because they were willing to tolerate incest or eat meat that others considered off-limits. Or they took pride in proclaiming their allegiance to the right, best, or most prestigious leader.

Or it may have been all of the above.

What all of these behaviors share in common is social comparison. Arrogant bragging is the flip side of envy, and neither, Paul says, is an embodiment of love.

IN SOME WAYS, the problem Paul addresses is not all that different from what we still face today. We still judge ourselves and others by secular standards. We still struggle with envy and pride. We look up the ladder and wish we had what someone else has. We look down the ladder and think ourselves better than the poor souls beneath us.

And neither attitude fosters love.

Social comparison comes naturally to us. But we can learn to notice when we’re doing it, and prayerfully cultivate new ways of thinking. Can we be happy for others without being sad for ourselves? Can we celebrate someone else’s success without feeling a pang of envy or jealousy? When speaking with others, can we stop trying in subtle (or not so subtle) ways to steer the conversation back to ourselves and our accomplishments? Can we take a genuine interest in them instead?

These are some of the things love might do, when our worth and identity is secure in God’s love for us, and when we admit the ways in which we’re doing what love doesn’t do.