chapters of Genesis (and in the vast tradition that surrounds them) as a
cataclysm of cosmic magnitude.
Conscious human malevolence can break the spirit even tragedy could not
shake. I remember discovering (with her) that one of my clients had been
shocked into years of serious post-traumatic stress disorder—daily physical
shaking and terror, and chronic nightly insomnia—by the mere expression on
her enraged, drunken boyfriend’s face. His “fallen countenance” (Genesis
4:5) indicated his clear and conscious desire to do her harm. She was more
naïve than she should have been, and that predisposed her to the trauma, but
that’s not the point: the voluntary evil we do one another can be profoundly
and permanently damaging, even to the strong. And what is it, precisely, that
motivates such evil?
It doesn’t make itself manifest merely in consequence of the hard lot of
life. It doesn’t even emerge, simply, because of failure itself, or because of
the disappointment and bitterness that failure often and understandably
engenders. But the hard lot of life, magnified by the consequence of
continually rejected sacrifices (however poorly conceptualized; however half-
heartedly executed)? That will bend and twist people into the truly monstrous
forms who then begin, consciously, to work evil; who then begin to generate
for themselves and others little besides pain and suffering (and who do it for
the sake of that pain and suffering). In that manner, a truly vicious circle
takes hold: begrudging sacrifice, half-heartedly undertaken; rejection of that
sacrifice by God or by reality (take your pick); angry resentment, generated
by that rejection; descent into bitterness and the desire for revenge; sacrifice
undertaken even more begrudgingly, or refused altogether. And it’s Hell
itself that serves as the destination place of that downward spiral.
Life is indeed “nasty, brutish and short,” as the English philosopher
Thomas Hobbes so memorably remarked. But man’s capacity for evil makes
it worse. This means that the central problem of life—the dealing with its
brute facts—is not merely what and how to sacrifice to diminish suffering,
but what and how to sacrifice to diminish suffering and evil—the conscious
and voluntary and vengeful source of the worst suffering. The story of Cain
and Abel is one manifestation of the archetypal tale of the hostile brothers,
hero and adversary: the two elements of the individual human psyche, one
aimed up, at the Good, and the other, down, at Hell itself. Abel is a hero, true:
but a hero who is ultimately defeated by Cain. Abel could please God—a
orlando isaí díazvh8uxk
(Orlando Isaí DíazVh8UxK)
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