Another Answer to Cain

Many centuries ago, Cain was questioned concerning the whereabouts of his brother, and defensively replied: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” To some these five words still mean what they were meant to mean; to others they seem to have been said so much that they may have lost much of their meaning. But however frequently we hear the phrase, still we would not be justified in assuming that the misfortunes of other men have nothing to do with us. Much of the daily news consists of accounts of the troubles of others. So numerous and sad and persistent are they that our feelings may have become somewhat insensitive – and we are often only impersonally aware of the problems of others. We feel sympathetic. We wish that something could be done, and then go about our routine, largely forgetting what we have read or heard until the news of another day. Even if tragedy has touched someone we personally know – even then the acuteness of our concern is likely soon to subside. Indeed, tragedy is pretty much impersonal until it touches us – or until it touches one of our loved ones. Like hunger and thirst, like cold and loneliness – they are words that don’t really mean much until they become part of our personal experience, until we ourselves are hungry, or cold, or lonely. But let such experiences come actually to us, then our concern becomes acute, and we begin to understand the misfortunes of other men – and then we become impressed with the fact that we are passengers on the same planet, with the same Father, the same purpose, despite the circumstances which today may deal more kindly with one than with another. All this is just another way of answering Cain’s question: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” but, like all the other lessons of life: it must be said again and again.