Because of the Colour of the Wheat Fields

La Siesta (after Millet) - Vincent Van Gogh (1890)

It is common knowledge, among the people who know me well, that The Little Prince holds a very special place in my heart (see this post). I read it regularly, and every time something new and different strikes me. The Little Prince is a treasure chest of truths about life, the human experience, friendship and love. Let me share briefly some thoughts I've had about the book lately.

The people in my world are constantly moving, both literally and figuratively. Moving away, moving back, moving farther, moving closer. Perhaps it's because of this day and age, or perhaps it's an eagerness to see, taste, and experience more and more, to push the limits of the known and attain the sea of possibilities that lies beyond, deep inside of us.

I, too, am always moving. On the one hand, it's a beautiful thing to see the world, to stretch your horizons, to step out of your comfort zone, to learn and grow beyond what you could have ever imagined. On the other hand, it sometimes becomes exhausting and burdensome to feel uprooted and have to start anew, in all areas of life, all the time.

One particular area where moving can hurt the most is friendship. Movement fosters creating new relationships because of (1) an increased exposure to new people, and (2) the necessity to make new relationships to 'survive' in society. From a sea of unfamiliar faces, some eventually emerge that have meaning. From an abstract mess of colour and texture emerge figures which our brain can recognise and make associations with.

You're given a geographic location, and a limited amount of time, and relationships happen. You find kindred spirits, invest your time and mind in them, and clothe your heart with shared moments and memories. It's a delightful phenomenon, to see the foreign become familiar, to tame that which was wild.

Oh, but when you leave your friends, or when your friends leave you, your heart is stripped of its clothes, laid bare again. Cold, vulnerable, and alone. What has been given can't be returned, and it feels like sweet, sweet theft. It sometimes feels like the pain of losing someone you're attached to, and having to start all over again, outweighs the benefits of having developed that friendship. What good is it to create something valuable, only to see it go away?

In the midst of moving, moving again, and moving one more time over the past few months, I genuinely asked myself that question. And in the midst of my reflections, I remembered my favourite passage in the Little Prince, the long dialogue between the fox and the Little Prince.

When they first meet, the fox asks the little prince to become his friend:

"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat...

The fox then explains that relationships require investment and energy--the fox and the little prince cannot be friends right away, but must 'tame' each other.

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the colour of the wheat fields."

I was very inspired by this--the pain is worthwhile, because the gain is that that which was meaningless, is now meaningful. Even when people you have invested yourself in are physically removed from you, tokens from your shared experience are permanent and everywhere in your daily, tangible life. There is now beauty, savour and substance in what was bland, ordinary and hollow. And it has done you good.

Sous le figuier

Il y a un texte de la Bible qui me fascine et suscite aussi ma curiosité chaque fois que je le lis. C'est un passage très court et dont on peut sans doute ne même pas s'aperçevoir, mais qui je crois renferme une très belle et profonde vérité.

C'est dans le tout premier chapitre du livre de Jean. Jésus est d'abord accompagné de deux de ses disciples, puis peu à peu d'autres se joignent à lui. Viendra le tour de Nathanaël:

Le lendemain, Jésus voulut se rendre en Galilée, et il rencontra Philippe. Il lui dit: Suis-moi. Philippe était de Bethsaïda, de la ville d'André et de Pierre. Philippe rencontra Nathanaël, et lui dit: Nous avons trouvé celui de qui Moïse a écrit dans la loi et dont les prophètes ont parlé, Jésus de Nazareth, fils de Joseph. Nathanaël lui dit: Peut-il venir de Nazareth quelque chose de bon? Philippe lui répondit: Viens, et vois. Jésus, voyant venir à lui Nathanaël, dit de lui: Voici vraiment un Israélite, dans lequel il n'y a point de fraude. D'où me connais-tu? lui dit Nathanaël. Jésus lui répondit: Avant que Philippe t'appelât, quand tu étais sous le figuier, je t'ai vu. Nathanaël répondit et lui dit: Rabbi, tu es le Fils de Dieu, tu es le roi d'Israël. Jésus lui répondit: Parce que je t'ai dit que je t'ai vu sous le figuier, tu crois; tu verras de plus grandes choses que celles-ci. (Jean 1:43-50)

La transformation de Nathanaël est frappante. Il est tout d'abord sceptique, même sarcastique, faisant une mauvaise blague quant à Nazareth, qui de toute évidence n'avait pas bonne réputation à cette époque (et qui est presque totalement inconnue aujourd'hui, peut-être pour la même raison). C'est donc avec un préjugé négatif que Nathanaël aborde Jésus.

À l'opposé, Jésus aborde Nathanaël de façon très positive, faisant l'éloge de son intégrité. Pourtant, Nathanaël n'est toujours pas impressionné et reste sceptique, puisqu'il demande à Jésus de justifier son propos. À mon sens, la question de Nathanaël sonne davantage comme un ''who do you think you are?'' qu'un ''have you been stalking me?'' et se veut plutôt rhétorique, puisque Nathanaël ne semble pas s'attendre à une réponse satisfaisante.

L'inattendu arrive pourtant: Une phrase de Jésus, où il affirme avoir vu Nathanaël sous le figuier, suffit à effacer le doute et le cynisme de Nathanaël et le pousse à qualifier Jésus de Fils de Dieu et Roi d'Israël. Mais pourquoi?

Je me suis longtemps posé la question, et je me la poserai sans doute encore longtemps puisque le texte n'offre pas de réponse.  En fait, il s'agit d'un secret. Le texte ne relate pas l'épisode où Nathanaël se tient sous le figuier: le lecteur ne peut donc pas savoir ce qui s'y est passé. Et c'est là la beauté de la chose: Il s'agit d'un secret entre Dieu et Nathanaël, que nous ne connaîtrons peut-être jamais. Une chose est certaine: Ce qui s'est passé sous le figuier est d'une importance telle que le fait que Jésus en ait connaissance convainc Nathanaël qu'il est le Fils de Dieu.

J'ai imaginé plusieurs scénarios pouvant expliquer le lien entre l'épisode du figuier et la réaction de Nathanaël. J'ai l'impression qu'il s'agit d'un moment vraiment intime que celui-ci a vécu avec Dieu. Peut-être s'agissait-il d'une prière, d'une supplication, de larmes, d'un cri du coeur de Nathanaël envers Dieu à ce moment-là. Ou peut-être a-t-il réalisé une vérité importante, a-t-il eu une conviction profonde. Je ne sais pas. En tous les cas, ce qui est arrivé a touché Nathanaël au plus profond de son être et est de nature à prouver la légitimité des propos de Jésus.

Je trouve ce passage extraordinaire. D'une part, bien que cette histoire ait été lue par des millions de personnes à travers l'histoire, elle fait référence à un secret qui n'est pas révélé et ainsi reste entre Nathanaël et Jésus. D'autre part, je suis touchée de la façon par laquelle Jésus se préoccupe de ce qui se passe dans le coeur et dans l'âme de Nathanaël, et garde son secret. Je crois que de la même manière, lorsque nous sommes nous-mêmes sous le figuier (métaphorique) et que notre coeur et notre âme sont à découvert, Dieu voit, écoute, et aime.

''Timshel'' (Thou Mayest) - And Why It Makes All The Difference

Filippo Vitale, ''Cain and Abel''

John Steinbeck's East of Eden is perhaps the lengthiest work of literature based on the story of Cain and Abel. Though its 601 pages are intimidating at first, they contain powerful truths and reflections.

Summary (although you really should read the book for yourself)

"Set in the rich farmland of California's Salinas Valley, this sprawling and and often brutal novel follows the intertwined destinies of two families--the Trasks and the Hamiltons--whose generations helplessly reenact the fall of Adam and Eve and the poisonous rivalry of Cain and Abel." (description found in my copy)

East of Eden takes place over a long period of time. It details two sets of Father-Son and Brother-Brother relationships which reflect the Biblical narrative of Cain and Abel. John Steinbeck, though very subtle in many ways, leaves nothing to interpretation as to who is who: Cyrus Trask begets Adam and Charles Trask, while Adam Trask in turn begets Aron and Caleb Trask.

Most of the novel focuses on Adam Trask and his relationship with Cathy Ames, a wicked woman who finds pleasure in manipulating and crushing those who stand in her way, with no other seeming purpose than her own ambitions.  "The trouble is that since we cannot know what she wanted, we will never know whether or not she got it," writes Steinbeck.

Caleb, dark and withdrawn, is devoured by jealousy of his brother Aaron, who is loved by all and whose academic success is praised by their father Adam, while Caleb's business endeavours are utterly rejected. In his anger, Caleb takes his revenge, which results in Aron dying.

The Biblical Reference

Here is the story of Cain and Abel as quoted in the novel (this is important):

Adam started to speak and Samuel looked up at him and he was silent and covered his eyes with his hand. Samuel read, " 'And she again bare his brother Abel. And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground. And in the process of time it came to pass that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the Lord has respect unto Abel and to his offering. But unto Cain and to his offering he has not respect.' " (...) " 'And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. And the Lord said unto Cain, "Why art thou wroth? And why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? And if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."" 'And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and slew him' "

From the reading of this passage follows a discussion between Adam Trask, Samuel Hamilton and Lee (Adam's cook and housekeeper - Cathy did not stay with him long) on the meaning of the story and questions as to why Cain's offering was rejected. Though the discussion does not resolve at the time, Lee later recalls ''the story bit deeply into me and  and I went into it word for word (...) the more I thought about the story, the more profound it became to me."

"Timshel," The Hebrew Word That Changes Everything

It is by comparing two English translation that Lee makes his discovery:

(...) they were fairly close. There was only one place that bothered me. The King James version says this--it is when Jehovah has asked Cain why he is angry. Jehovah says, 'If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him." It was the 'thou shalt' that struck me, because it was a promise that Cain would conquer sin. (...)Then I got a copy of the American Standard Bible. It was very new then. And it was different in this passage. It says, 'Do thou rule over him.' Now this is very different. This is not a promise, it is an order. And I begun to stew about it. I wondered what the original word of the original writer has been that these very different translations could be made."

Lee then applied himself to studying Hebrew and discussed the issue with Chinese sages, who also took on the study of Hebrew and engaged a learn rabbi.  After two years of these studies, the sages found the answer they were looking for. As Lee recalls :

This was the gold from our mining: 'Thou mayest.' 'Thou mayest rule over sin.' (...)The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin (...). The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel--"Thou mayest'--that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. (...) For if 'Thou mayest'--it is also true that 'Thou mayest not.' (...)(...) for in his weakness and his filth and in his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win. (...)

'Timshel' And The Moral Struggle Between Good and Evil

In East of Eden, the idea of choice between good and evil is a prominent theme.

Cathy Ames, who has followed an evil path since her youth, is confronted to it when her son Aron expresses his disgust at her lifestyle. She feels remorse for the first time. When confronted to this reality and the possibility of a choice, however, she commits suicide rather than abandoning her ways.

When his father Adam refuses his gift, Cal Trask is also faced with a choice: he can either forgive his father or he can jealousy consume him and seek revenge on his brother Aron. This time, Cal chooses evil, just like Cain in the biblical narrative: He exposes Aron to a disturbing family secret which prompts Aron to enroll in the army, where he eventually dies in battle.

However, the novel does not end there. Upon fully realising the evil he has committed, and though he is guilty of one of the most repulsive crimes, Cal repents and seeks forgiveness. His life is then at a crossroads: Cal cannot change the past, but he can still choose to live the right way.

DISCLAIMER: East of Eden Is Not Theology...

The purpose of literature is to deepen our understanding of human nature and the human condition. This is the perspective from which I read East of Eden. It is not a perfectly accurate retelling of the story of Cain and Abel compared to the biblical narrative, as it focuses on man's abilities for overcoming evil rather than God's grace.

I have even read somewhere that the hebrew word 'timshel' as employed in the Cain and Abel narrative is better translated in the imperative, and that God's words to Cain must be understood as :''You are planning to sin, and it is ready to overtake you. But you, Cain, are commanded to conquer it instead.''

In my opinion, however, and even from the perspective that 'timshel' is a command, Steinbeck's premise in East of Eden stands: Cain has free will in the face of a choice between good or evil. He is free to make his own decision, though the objectively right and moral one is that of good.

Picture from the 1955 ''East of Eden'' movie featuring James Dean. It's an awful movie, don't watch it.