“Ah, the smell of my son |
There he was, his brother toiling and bleeding in his house, waiting to bring fresh lumber home so he can cook his father his favorite stew. It meant nothing for him––he was simply helping his father, nothing more, and nothing else. His other brother, his twin, the one he was fighting to leave the womb first, was always on his mother’s lap. His father muttered something of a blessing he would give to him as the firstborn, but he put that off his mind. Of course, his brother spoke something about first-born and rights and properties and blessings, but he was so busy (and hungry!) he had to switch his inheritance for a hearty stew!
There was a plot, a collusion between mother and son. They remembered how much these twins jostled in her womb, fighting for their share of abundance. Everything in their world had a divine name: the sun, the moon, the water, the air. Every animal they ate had a blessing and a reason for its purpose. Every wool they skinned turned into thankfulness, for they had clothes and shelter. It was never merely working endlessly and tirelessly for naught; it also meant that, after fighting, they were meant to enjoy the abundance. One of the brothers clearly understood the message. The other one didn’t, and would surely pay his distraction with bitter tears.
In the beginning, this is a world of winners and losers, of those who have everything and those who don’t. Deception is wrong in every way, yes, but it was the only way to survive in a cutthroat world. Everybody would eventually pay for disregarding their share in the problem: one would face years of trickery, and the other would lose the price of their inheritance. Everything has shades of light and darkness. Everything has shades of abundance. But who would fully appreciate it? The blessings of life would never go to those who are supposed or entitled to have them, but those that care of its true worth?