Imagine two friends, Steve and Fred, chatting at a New Year’s party. They both decide not to drink alcohol in January and to go to the gym regularly. They shake it.
They do not want to let each other down and both keep their agreements. Then Steve continues with his routine, and Fred quickly reverts to too much beer and not enough exercise.
Even though they accomplished the same thing, an astute third-party observer might have noticed a difference in the way each man achieved his goal. It was definitely hard for both of them; they both woke up at dawn, drank soda while others drank beer, and did lunges and squats until their muscles burned. For Fred, this work felt like a battle against gravity (even though it was a worthwhile battle) and for Steve the change seemed strangely liberating.
Fred saw his efforts as the price he had to pay to get the reward he wanted. He wanted to look and feel better, so he had to pay for it in the form of intense manual labor, boring drinks and early morning wake-ups. Fred was just as disciplined as Steve and did all the agreed upon reps and sets, but he always looked forward to the end of each workout and felt deprived of the taste of soda and lime.
Steve had a different attitude and it led to a different experience of the whole thing. He did not see the lunges, soft drinks, and early morning hours as restrictions placed on him by the agreement, but rather as a way of life that was always available to him and that he now voluntarily adopted. He didn’t moan about Leg Day or tell himself he “couldn’t have a beer” right now. He knew that he was not really bound by those sacrifices, but that he chose them because they are better. He didn’t have to fight with himself about how much effort was “good enough” because he saw that reward and sacrifice are inextricably linked. If he wanted one thing, he had to want the other, because they only showed up as one thing.
Drive with the brake on
When I read east of Eden by John Steinbeck a few years ago there was one scene that seemed to be the center of the book just because of the way it was written, although I had no idea about it at the time. The characters drank tea while analyzing Bible passages. Since this wasn’t my area of interest, I thought about it a bit.
Now I see it as a careful unveiling of one of the most useful insights our species has ever had about effort and doing.
(If mentioning the Bible makes you tired or bored, be patient for a moment; it could save you a lot of trouble.)
east of Eden (and also the above story of Steve and Fred) is a retelling of Cain and Abel, the two Biblical brothers who illustrate two different approaches to effort and sacrifice. In Steinbeck’s book, Cain and Abel are represented by two California farmers, brothers Charles and Adam.
I always thought the lesson of Cain and Abel was pretty simple: there was a lazy brother and a hardworking brother. You should be the hard-working brother, otherwise you will miss out on the deeper rewards of life, and then you will become resentful and treacherous.
However, the difference between them is more subtle than that. Both brothers worked hard, and both understood that this was necessary to gain access to a better life. But Abel (or Steve, or Adam) makes his sacrifices with all his heart, without complaining. Cain immediately becomes angry with God when his sacrifices fail to yield results, revealing that he hates the work but desires the pay. Like many of us, he regards the reward and its price as separate things; the work is an obstacle to what he values rather than a part of it.
This subtler interpretation resonated with me, while the basic admonition to “just do it” never did anything for me. I realized that I tend to take the Cain approach. I always try to sacrifice barely enough to get the reward, and I get angry at the world, or at the way things ‘are’, when that doesn’t work. I always hold something back, as if God might rip me off, so to speak, if I accidentally pay too much.
When I read the Bible story again, it struck me that I really… am Cain. I’ve mostly done the Cain thing on this earth and wondered why it’s never enough. Imagine the goosebumps when I remembered that was Cain literally my name. David Cain – beloved king and treacherous brother.
Sometimes you come across the better way, if only because the other way just never works. I don’t think anyone can maintain a gym regimen, or anything like that, if they are only motivated by the future rewards. Anyone who perseveres through this past January season will find something about the toil itself to embrace. It could be the ‘burn’ or the ‘pump’, or some other synergy between effort and satisfaction. It can be the comforting feeling of self-discipline. They may like who they are when they do it. But it has to be something, because embracing the reward and resenting the price is just not a viable way to stick with anything for long. You are always in inner conflict. You drive with the brake on.
Famous in that east of Eden scene, one of the characters shares a discovery about how not to drive with the brakes. Lee, the servant of Adam, has carefully studied the story of Cain and Abel, down to every word, in several translations. He says that in the English version, Cain is told some form of, “Thou shalt have dominion over sin” – in other words, you must, or you shall, do the right thing. You should.
This is a command, the kind we give ourselves when we decide to exercise three days a week, stop eating junk food, or go to bed at ten o’clock. you shall do this thing, you! That’s how it’s going to be! Do you hear me?!
Whether or not these types of exhortations motivate you to take action, they don’t really work in the long run. Work done this way never frees you; it makes life feel like a kind of crunch between opposing forces. It’s not the way you would want to live if you had the choice.
Essentially, Lee suggests there is a choice. He tells the others that the original Hebrew word in the passage – Timshel – does not mean ‘you must’, but rather ‘you’ be able to.”
This changes the statement entirely. God does not tell Cain what to do, but what to do be able to Doing. you be able to triumph over temptation. you be able to sacrifice wholeheartedly, without inner conflict. It’s not a command, it’s good news: you can be Cain or Abel. This possibility exists at every moment, and it is the greatest gift we have inherited as humans.
For whatever reason, our man Steve understood this on some level. He did not view his training regimen as an obstacle that he had to overcome in order to get something desirable in return. He saw it as an entire path, a way of life, that he could embrace or reject.
The new regime seemed to him a better path than the one he was following, so he took it, and life – or God, if you prefer – showed him without a doubt that he was right.
Timshel!
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Images of Pleased, Zeeboid, Nicole WilcoxTitian.
