Pass/Fail
Reflection given at the Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
June 16, 2019
by The Rev. Craig M. Nowak
Along a route I frequently drive there’s a fence which stretches the full length of an athletic field. Every year, starting in May, banners and signs of varying sizes and colors start appearing on the fence and by this time in June the fence is completely covered with banners and signs overlapping one another. No, they’re not campaign signs, advertisements or even memorials for some tragedy. They’re signs and banners congratulating graduates. Some congratulate specific people, others an entire graduating class. Although the signs are largely handmade and handwritten with markers or paint, they are every bit as charged with energy and excitement as any high tech electronic or flashing neon sign.
I remember that feeling of excitement, and not just at graduation time, also at the every each school year. It’s the kind of feeling that can get you into trouble, if you’re not careful, as it did for me in the spring of 1988. It was the end of my freshman year of college and I was feeling on top of the world. So much so, I went totally wild and…registered for three summer classes. Okay, maybe not what you were thinking (or hoping), but hear me out.
The classes ran three days a week for three hours each and I took them all at the same time, that is, I didn’t stagger them over the summer. Worse, the classes were, drawing, computer programming and calculus. One class would have been more than enough, two was a stretch, but three? Bad idea. Calculus, in particular, which I found interesting, but where we covered one chapter per class, was too much. Thank God for that academic instrument of grace, the pass/fail option, which saved me, or at least my GPA.
That a pass/fail option even exists is an acknowledgement that we all make mistakes from time to time and that our occasional errors ought not doom us. Our second reading this morning shows us something like the pass/fail option for life has origins far more ancient than any university.
Recall that after Cain’s offering is rejected and God discovers him pouting about it, God asks Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? 7 If you do well, will you not be accepted?” God is essentially saying to Cain, “Hey, why the long face? It’s not the end of the world. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a second chance.”
God also offers a word of caution concerning that second chance, “…if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.”
God has offered Cain a pass/fail option, but warns him against abusing it. Just as schools typically limit how many times a student can use the pass/fail option in pursuit of a degree, the Biblical story suggests there is a limit to how often we can fall back on it in life before we cease to mature as human beings. In other words, pass/fail is not meant as an easy way out, but as an opportunity to learn and grow.
God offers Cain the pass/fail option that he might use it to reflect and do better next time. But instead, he broods over God’s acceptance of Abel’s offering, providing an opening for sin, which, as God warned, “is lurking at the door.” The sin that desires and ultimately snags Cain, has been described by Rabbi and author Harold Kushner, as, “The belief that there is not enough love to go around.” Essentially, a belief that life is a zero-sum game. And we see this play out in the story. Cain’s anger swells into resentment, setting up Abel as the perfect scapegoat.
And we know what happens to scapegoats. Like the wretched animals from which the name is derived, all the wrongdoings, faults, mistakes and depravity of a people or society are projected upon them and they are sent into the proverbial wilderness, intentionally and often forcibly segregated and estranged, by custom or law from the rest of society. Branded, “them”, that is, not “us”, they become the much feared and maligned “other.” And as such are subject to, and even seen as deserving of spiritual, emotional and physical abuse and violence or, like Abel, death.
Just last week, I was at a reception and a woman, recently retired from a thirty year career in the army, began to complain about the co-pay she’s responsible for when she goes to the doctor. From there she launched into a tirade about all the lazy people on food stamps and welfare who, “don’t want to work” and are somehow responsible for her co-pay. From there she offered a resentful indictment of all people who are dependent upon and thus bankrupting the government and, by extension, the country, leading me to wonder if she realizes where her pension comes from.
But of course, she “deserves” it. Those “others” don’t. Or so the thinking goes. It’s so easy to justify scathing judgement, discrimination and mistreatment when we’ve decided someone or some group is unworthy, be they “the poor”, migrants, LGBTQ people, racial, ethnic and religious minorities and so forth. And it is always easier to pontificate with simplistic superficial reasons why some “other” is unworthy than to acknowledge, let alone, deeply explore and question whatever advantage or privilege we enjoy. What are we afraid we’ll learn by doing so?
In John Steinbeck’s novel, East of Eden, a retelling of the story of Cain and Abel, one of the characters, Samuel Hamilton observes, "Two stories have haunted us and followed us from our beginning. We carry them along with us like invisible tails—the story of original sin and the story of Cain and Abel. I don’t understand either of them. I don’t understand either of them at all, but I do feel them.”
Covering themes ranging from life’s seeming unfairness, rivalries, anger and resentment, themes which play out in one way or another in all our lives, the of story Cain and Abel feels perhaps a little too familiar and makes us uncomfortable. Which is in many ways what makes it a good story too.
Dan Ornstein, a Rabbi from Albany, recently offered an editorial on WAMC (a radio station out of Albany) in which he referenced the story of Cain and Abel, noting, “Confronting Cain after he murdered his brother Abel, God didn’t berate or punish him. God asked him one simple, agonizing question: “Where is Abel your brother?” The Bible tells us that Cain cagily sought cover by responding with his infamous rhetorical question: “I don’t know…Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The question of course, concerns the nature of our relationship and responsibility to one another and to life itself. And it’s a question God doesn’t directly answer in the story, but leaves us to ponder.
If you “Google” “Am I my brother’s keeper?” you will get over four and half million returns. Suffice it to say, there’s a lot of opinions out there, and some every bit as sarcastic as Cain’s question.
Concluding the answer is yes, Rabbi Ornstein, in his editorial suggested we, “Relentlessly apply [the question] as our universal standard of human decency, when taking action to restore our society to peace and sanity.” Adding, “The brother’s keeper test is not some simplistic bromide or convenient cliché. It is, sadly, a time-worn litmus test of right and wrong. It strips away the delusion of intractable human differences. It demands that nothing which hinders our responsibility for each other should proceed without substantive correctives, checks and balances.”
Indeed, Ornstein would have the question itself, answered affirmatively, serve as an individual and societal pass/fail question. A question by which our assumed righteousness and the degree to which we share or hoard love ought to be weighed and measured.
But what about us? As Unitarian Universalists whose faith reminds us, in the words of our responsive reading, “We need one another.”, living in a world where very loud voices speak of “makers” versus “takers”, “us and them”, regularly demonizing not merely dependance, but even interdependence….In such a world, what is our pass/fail question? How do we acknowledge, deeply explore and question advantages or privileges we enjoy but may also keep us from the full promise of our faith? What question or questions do we hold or tests do we apply as the measure of whether we as individuals and a society will pass or fail this life we’ve been given. Is it, the “brother’s keeper” test or something else? And if so, what?
Like the author of the story of Cain and Abel, I leave these questions for you to ponder. Indeed, as we prepare to leave this friendly place today, another church year behind us, these are the very questions I invite you to take with you…to carry forward, to hold in your heart and mind and give time to in reflection and practice over the summer. May it be so.
Amen Blessed Be
Reflection given at the Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
June 16, 2019
by The Rev. Craig M. Nowak
Along a route I frequently drive there’s a fence which stretches the full length of an athletic field. Every year, starting in May, banners and signs of varying sizes and colors start appearing on the fence and by this time in June the fence is completely covered with banners and signs overlapping one another. No, they’re not campaign signs, advertisements or even memorials for some tragedy. They’re signs and banners congratulating graduates. Some congratulate specific people, others an entire graduating class. Although the signs are largely handmade and handwritten with markers or paint, they are every bit as charged with energy and excitement as any high tech electronic or flashing neon sign.
I remember that feeling of excitement, and not just at graduation time, also at the every each school year. It’s the kind of feeling that can get you into trouble, if you’re not careful, as it did for me in the spring of 1988. It was the end of my freshman year of college and I was feeling on top of the world. So much so, I went totally wild and…registered for three summer classes. Okay, maybe not what you were thinking (or hoping), but hear me out.
The classes ran three days a week for three hours each and I took them all at the same time, that is, I didn’t stagger them over the summer. Worse, the classes were, drawing, computer programming and calculus. One class would have been more than enough, two was a stretch, but three? Bad idea. Calculus, in particular, which I found interesting, but where we covered one chapter per class, was too much. Thank God for that academic instrument of grace, the pass/fail option, which saved me, or at least my GPA.
That a pass/fail option even exists is an acknowledgement that we all make mistakes from time to time and that our occasional errors ought not doom us. Our second reading this morning shows us something like the pass/fail option for life has origins far more ancient than any university.
Recall that after Cain’s offering is rejected and God discovers him pouting about it, God asks Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? 7 If you do well, will you not be accepted?” God is essentially saying to Cain, “Hey, why the long face? It’s not the end of the world. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a second chance.”
God also offers a word of caution concerning that second chance, “…if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.”
God has offered Cain a pass/fail option, but warns him against abusing it. Just as schools typically limit how many times a student can use the pass/fail option in pursuit of a degree, the Biblical story suggests there is a limit to how often we can fall back on it in life before we cease to mature as human beings. In other words, pass/fail is not meant as an easy way out, but as an opportunity to learn and grow.
God offers Cain the pass/fail option that he might use it to reflect and do better next time. But instead, he broods over God’s acceptance of Abel’s offering, providing an opening for sin, which, as God warned, “is lurking at the door.” The sin that desires and ultimately snags Cain, has been described by Rabbi and author Harold Kushner, as, “The belief that there is not enough love to go around.” Essentially, a belief that life is a zero-sum game. And we see this play out in the story. Cain’s anger swells into resentment, setting up Abel as the perfect scapegoat.
And we know what happens to scapegoats. Like the wretched animals from which the name is derived, all the wrongdoings, faults, mistakes and depravity of a people or society are projected upon them and they are sent into the proverbial wilderness, intentionally and often forcibly segregated and estranged, by custom or law from the rest of society. Branded, “them”, that is, not “us”, they become the much feared and maligned “other.” And as such are subject to, and even seen as deserving of spiritual, emotional and physical abuse and violence or, like Abel, death.
Just last week, I was at a reception and a woman, recently retired from a thirty year career in the army, began to complain about the co-pay she’s responsible for when she goes to the doctor. From there she launched into a tirade about all the lazy people on food stamps and welfare who, “don’t want to work” and are somehow responsible for her co-pay. From there she offered a resentful indictment of all people who are dependent upon and thus bankrupting the government and, by extension, the country, leading me to wonder if she realizes where her pension comes from.
But of course, she “deserves” it. Those “others” don’t. Or so the thinking goes. It’s so easy to justify scathing judgement, discrimination and mistreatment when we’ve decided someone or some group is unworthy, be they “the poor”, migrants, LGBTQ people, racial, ethnic and religious minorities and so forth. And it is always easier to pontificate with simplistic superficial reasons why some “other” is unworthy than to acknowledge, let alone, deeply explore and question whatever advantage or privilege we enjoy. What are we afraid we’ll learn by doing so?
In John Steinbeck’s novel, East of Eden, a retelling of the story of Cain and Abel, one of the characters, Samuel Hamilton observes, "Two stories have haunted us and followed us from our beginning. We carry them along with us like invisible tails—the story of original sin and the story of Cain and Abel. I don’t understand either of them. I don’t understand either of them at all, but I do feel them.”
Covering themes ranging from life’s seeming unfairness, rivalries, anger and resentment, themes which play out in one way or another in all our lives, the of story Cain and Abel feels perhaps a little too familiar and makes us uncomfortable. Which is in many ways what makes it a good story too.
Dan Ornstein, a Rabbi from Albany, recently offered an editorial on WAMC (a radio station out of Albany) in which he referenced the story of Cain and Abel, noting, “Confronting Cain after he murdered his brother Abel, God didn’t berate or punish him. God asked him one simple, agonizing question: “Where is Abel your brother?” The Bible tells us that Cain cagily sought cover by responding with his infamous rhetorical question: “I don’t know…Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The question of course, concerns the nature of our relationship and responsibility to one another and to life itself. And it’s a question God doesn’t directly answer in the story, but leaves us to ponder.
If you “Google” “Am I my brother’s keeper?” you will get over four and half million returns. Suffice it to say, there’s a lot of opinions out there, and some every bit as sarcastic as Cain’s question.
Concluding the answer is yes, Rabbi Ornstein, in his editorial suggested we, “Relentlessly apply [the question] as our universal standard of human decency, when taking action to restore our society to peace and sanity.” Adding, “The brother’s keeper test is not some simplistic bromide or convenient cliché. It is, sadly, a time-worn litmus test of right and wrong. It strips away the delusion of intractable human differences. It demands that nothing which hinders our responsibility for each other should proceed without substantive correctives, checks and balances.”
Indeed, Ornstein would have the question itself, answered affirmatively, serve as an individual and societal pass/fail question. A question by which our assumed righteousness and the degree to which we share or hoard love ought to be weighed and measured.
But what about us? As Unitarian Universalists whose faith reminds us, in the words of our responsive reading, “We need one another.”, living in a world where very loud voices speak of “makers” versus “takers”, “us and them”, regularly demonizing not merely dependance, but even interdependence….In such a world, what is our pass/fail question? How do we acknowledge, deeply explore and question advantages or privileges we enjoy but may also keep us from the full promise of our faith? What question or questions do we hold or tests do we apply as the measure of whether we as individuals and a society will pass or fail this life we’ve been given. Is it, the “brother’s keeper” test or something else? And if so, what?
Like the author of the story of Cain and Abel, I leave these questions for you to ponder. Indeed, as we prepare to leave this friendly place today, another church year behind us, these are the very questions I invite you to take with you…to carry forward, to hold in your heart and mind and give time to in reflection and practice over the summer. May it be so.
Amen Blessed Be
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