Being the Greatest
Rev. Paul Sprecher
Second Parish in Hingham, www.secondparish.org
September 20, 2009
Rabbi Kushner tells this story about envy:
In a small town in Poland, where most of the Jews were poor and unlearned, and where they had to compete against each other to eke out a living, there lived one man who was widely admired for his learning, his wealth, and his piety. One day, a dozen community leaders were pleased and astonished to receive an invitation to his home: "You are invited to Reb Isaac's home next Tuesday evening at six o'clock for a dinner worthy of Paradise." They could hardly wait for Tuesday to arrive. Dinner at Reb Isaac's! A meal worthy of Paradise! They all showed up promptly at six and were ushered into the dining room, where the table was elegantly set with dishes, glasses, and silver. When they were seated, a servant brought Reb Isaac a roll over which he recited the traditional blessing. The servant then set a bowl of soup before him, but none for the guests. Reb Isaac began to eat his soup, commenting, "Mmm, this is such good soup. I don't remember when I've had such tasty soup." The guests were puzzled; why weren't they being served as well? When Reb Isaac finished his soup, he motioned to his servant, who cleared the dish and returned a moment later with a plate of meat and vegetables for the host, and again nothing for the guests. Reb Isaac continued eating, saying, "Oh, this is so good. You have no idea what you're missing. This is so tasty, I love it." Finally one of the invited guests blurted out, "Reb Isaac, I don't understand. Have you brought us here to mock us? We were invited for a dinner worthy of Paradise, but you alone get the meal and we only get to watch you enjoy it. Why are you doing this to us?" Reb Isaac smiled. "A meal worthy of Paradise indeed. What did you think it would be? Is Paradise a famous restaurant? Is Paradise somewhere one wants to go for its fine food and wine? No, Paradise is a place where people love each other enough to take pleasure in another person's happiness. Paradise is any place where you can see your neighbor being successful and not envy him for it. Paradise is a place where people know that the truly important things in life are present in such abundance that there is plenty for everyone; we don't have to snatch them away from our neighbor. And now, if we have all learned that lesson, I'll have your dinner brought out to you."1
The theme of Rabbi Kushner’s book is apparent from the title: “How Good Do We Have to Be?” and his answer is, essentially, “Not perfect.” The striving to be better than anyone else which we found in the reading from the Gospel of Mark this morning broaches the same issues of envy among the disciples of Jesus. One would have thought that in such an exalted circle, each personally chosen by Jesus himself, there would be enough self-regard to eliminate envy among them, but no – James and John want to be even more important than the others and to have the most exalted places next to his throne when he enters into his glory. For them, Jesus’ death will offer another opportunity to demonstrate how great they are. A similar scene is reported a little earlier in the same gospel: [Mark 9:33] “Then they came to Capernaum; and when [Jesus] was in the house he asked them, ‘What were you arguing about on the way?’ 34 But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest.”
What is it that makes us so prone to worry about who we are better than or worse than, whether we are greater than someone else or the greatest at something? The primal story of Cain and Abel puts the conflict between the two brothers down to a fairly simple matter of envy. Both brothers bring a sacrifice to God, Cain from the grain he has harvested, Abel an animal from his flock and, as the story is told in Genesis, “[4:4 …] the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering, 5 but for Cain and his offering he had no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his countenance fell.” Part of the puzzle of the story is the fact that no reason is given for why God “regarded” Abel’s offering but “had no regard” for Cain’s. The story has brought forth endless speculation over the generations. Perhaps this is a reflection of a primal conflict between farmers and keepers of herds of animals, a conflict which has played out since the dawn of agriculture, including in the conflicts between ranchers and farmers in the development of our own American West. Perhaps Abel’s offering was more pleasing because it was “of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions,” while Cain’s offering, whose nature is not specified, was from leftovers instead. Whatever the reason, Abel’s offering was favored and Cain’s was not. Even more galling, Cain was the firstborn. How much of our striving with each other arise can from the simple fact that we are different from each other because we are born at different times. I suppose it gets played out most dramatically in families with two brothers such as I grew up in, and probably for two sisters as well, but families of whatever configuration seem to breed envy. . I can’t tell you how many years it took for me to expose the myth of my brother’s superior strength – I must have been nine or ten before I finally figured out why he could always beat me in a fight and why it wasn’t fair: “Of course you’re stronger than me! You’re older than me, so of course you’re always going to be bigger!” I suppose this is unique to my family, but my brother took endless pleasure demonstrating his superior strength. He knew just how to push my buttons, insulting me in some particular way to provoke me into a fight, letting me beat on him angrily but with out doing much damage, and then turning around and beating me up at his leisure. He even managed to turn every fight around so that I was the aggressor who of course had to be fended off. I can still remember the day when I was about sixteen and managed to defeat him in leg wrestling – we had finally gotten to be close enough to the same size that I was no longer the weakling of the family. But just as in the story of Cain and Abel, there was no good reason why one son was inherently better than the other – I was just born later.
As in any other family, there were factors other than age and strength which pushed us in different directions and created conflicts of other sorts as well. As the oldest son on the farm, he was expected to succeed my father. Hence he began driving the tractor, milking the cows, learning the skills of repair and care for animals and machinery much earlier than I did. He had excellent practical sense, but I was “smarter” in school. He spent more time with my father and grandfather, I with my mother and grandmother. All of these differences, some inherent in our nature, some favored by one parent or another, pushed us into constant conflicts over who was better than the other – and of course it always mattered what scale was used to measure better or worse.
I wonder how much of our striving later in life finds its roots in the winning and losing of small struggles for affection from parents, for proving ourselves as strong as, as smart as, as worthy as our siblings. I want to distinguish here between “doing our best” and “being the greatest.” We should always, of course, strive for excellence in what we do, we should always carry out our tasks with integrity; what I’m trying to describe is not about doing things well, being responsible, caring for the things and people we love, but instead about being better than someone else. About envy, in short.
In the case of Cain and Abel, the outcome of envy is murder. But before that fatal outcome, Cain becomes the first person outside of the garden of Eden to whom God speaks. [Genesis 4:6]The LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? 7 If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it." In his retelling of the story of Cain and Abel in his novel East of Eden, John Steinbeck offers a meditation on the key word “must” in that sentence spoken by God to Cain; Mr. Lee, the Chinese cook who is the moral center of the book, tells a story of four elderly Chinese gentlemen who spend two years learning Hebrew in order to understand the meaning of that one verse. The King James translation says “thou shalt” rule over sin – a promise – while the American Standard Bible instead says “do thou rule over” sin – an order. These gentlemen conclude, however, that the true meaning is “Thou mayest” rule over sin – in other words, it’s a choice.2 We have a choice about whether we let envy rule us, about whether our striving in life is about being better than others, about whether we let the competition to be greater than someone else, richer than someone else, smarter than someone else be the criterion by which we value ourselves, or whether instead we measure ourselves by our own highest ideals, by a standard of righteousness. And we have a choice to forgive our siblings and ourselves for the inevitable bumps and ego bruises we have endured or dished out in our families. I cannot help but think that some of the excesses of the recent economic bubbles have been driven by the desire of some individuals to have more money for its own sake, far beyond any kind of human need, simply to have more than the next person. The result of this striving has been economic catastrophe for many more than those who benefited from that competition.
We only have this life to lead, and even the memory of those who have been most exalted in their lifetime soon fades. My favorite evocation of this is in the poem Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Rabbi Kushner concludes his discussion of Cain and Abel this way:
Cain and Abel were the first human beings who had never lived in Paradise. They were the first human beings who had to compete for parental approval and contend with parental rejection. They never knew that a Paradise of their own making was within their reach. All they had to do was love each other enough to take pleasure in each other's success, instead of believing that the other's success came at their expense. All they had to do was understand that love is not like a bank account that is depleted as it is given away, where every dollar of love can only be spent once. Love is not like a buffet line where the person in front of you threatens to take too much and leave too little for you. Love is like a muscle; the more it is exercised today, the more it can be used tomorrow. Parents who love one child don't run out of love. They are practicing loving, and will be better at it when it comes to loving their other children. Whenever we "give away" our love, God replenishes it so that we become the channel of His love flowing to all of His children, a channel that never runs dry. Had Cain been wise enough to understand that, he might not have spent his days as a friendless wanderer. He might have reclaimed for himself and his descendants the Paradise that Adam and Eve had lost.3
Jesus’ response to his disciples’ desire to be the greatest is to remind them that greatness come from giving, not from lording over others:
Mark 10:42 So Jesus called them and said to them, "You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 43 But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.
May we, as a congregation and as people of faith, learn to master our envy and to become servants, for that way lies true greatness.
Amen.