The Three Brothers

A Fairy Tale by Andreas Wittenstein

Long, long ago, when humanity was still young and foolish, there reigned a king whose wisdom was so sought after and celebrated that his kingdom became renowned as the spiritual, philosophical, artistic, and intellectual center of the world. To this king by and by were born three proud sons who spread his teachings far and wide. Great and learned thinkers in their own right, the three sons were nonetheless of lesser wisdom than the king, if only because they were incessantly distracted from their pursuit of knowledge and justice by petty squabbles.

To the king's dismay, these three siblings fought amongst themselves much more than siblings in a typical family. In fact, their mutual animosity began the very moment they were born, and they would no doubt already have started squabbling in the womb, had they not been borne at different times and in different wombs. Yes, these three brothers were but half-brothers, a fact which forever festered among them. For even though they never openly taunted each other about their respective mothers, yet a single disdainful glance between them was enough to reignite in each the secret shame that he felt about his parentage. The eldest son, it was said, was born to a lowly concubine, a servant of the queen. The middle one's mother, a fossil almost old enough to be her son's great great great grandmother, was so jealous a parent that she threw the concubine out to thirst away in the heat of a drought. And as for the youngest, his mother was an unwed peasant who did nothing to dispel the rumor that her illegitimate son had no father.

Nevertheless, the family therapist --who went by the title of priest in those days-- attributed the sons' clamorous rivalry to their emotionally withdrawn father; and indeed it was distressing to see the three of them forever vying to win their father's favor. Sadly, although the king generally did his best to avoid taking sides, and blessed them all with great fortunes and populous far-flung kingdoms of their own, still each son persisted in perpetually proclaiming himself to be the king's favorite and only loyal heir.

Whenever the king called them to task, the three sons, like bickering siblings everywhere, pointed their fingers and blamed each other for starting the fight. At which their father would merely shake his head and reproach them all by saying: "What's important isn't who was so immature as to start the fight. That's in the past and can't be changed. What's important is who is adult enough to stop it." But all his wise words were of no avail in this case, and ever and again the king himself had to intervene to make peace. Sometimes, he sent the combatants scurrying with a spectacular show of anger. On other occasions he let them fight to exhaustion. And once in a while he even let his weakest scion get hurt so badly that the aggressor would withdraw in guilt and remorse. But still the children refused to grow up and graduate from battles of bluster and brawn to contests of wisdom, compassion, and lovingkindness.

To be sure, the brothers were at times generous and helped each other in times of need. In particular, the outer brothers often kindly took in the middle brother as a guest whenever he got squeezed out --as middle siblings have a tendency to be. In repayment, the middle brother would help his host run his business more efficiently. But when his relation degraded from guest to servant to slave, they inevitably fell to fighting again. As the priest tells the story, in each such instance the brethren were in mutual denial about their abusive relationship until the end, the host being reluctant to lose his free labor, the guest clinging to his free room and board. Often it was only after the middle brother had thoroughly humiliated his opponent in public that they finally separated. And even then, as so often happens in such relationships, the domineering partner attempted to kill his former slave rather than see him succeed on his own.

Now that humanity is older and, one might hope, somewhat wiser, it would be satisfying to be able to say that the three brothers eventually reconciled and lived happily ever after. But that hasn't happened yet, though all three finally have homes in the old kingdom. The rivalry between these querulous brothers has outlasted all other rivalries on earth. The youngest one, who just a little while ago got closer than ever to actually succeeding in murdering his middle brother, is keeping rather quiet now, nursing his guilt. But the other two are at each other again as fiercely as ever.

To make amends, the youngest had helped his long-exiled middle brother move back into their father's kingdom. In so doing, however, they conveniently ignored the fact that their oldest brother was already comfortably settled there. Understandably upset at his eviction, the oldest has threatened to take the kingdom back and force his brother out again, leaving him landless. Since then, hardly a day has passed in peace. The middle brother, having learned the hard way that waiting in passive pacifism for his father to rescue him can be perilous policy for an adult, now leans far in the opposite direction. He flaunts his power, taunts his older brother, and punches back twice as hard each time his brother strikes. And so the conflict escalates unremittingly, as among two stubborn little boys who don't know when or how to stop fighting. They argue incessantly about who is in the right, though both are clearly in the wrong and need to compromise. And they bicker constantly about who started each little skirmish.

If you should ever chance to meet any of these aging brothers while they're squabbling again, please, in the name of their father, remind them that any child can start or join a fight; it takes a mature person to stop it.

—from our February 2002 Newsletter

Site design by BitJazz Inc.