Once upon a time there was an oldest child. The child was born in dark days, life was hard and the family struggled just to survive. Death was all too common and sometimes it seemed strange and mysterious. This child grew up to be stubborn. Extremely stubborn sometimes. This child believed they had to work hard, and had lots of rules in which to command their life. Within these rules, they felt confident in their success and sometimes even their own superiority.
Then a second child came into this world. This child was born in a time of change and creativity. This child certainly came up in a more stable food and family situation. This child developed a strong voice and a quick temper. Although life continued to have it’s ups-and-downs, this child always had the idea that the world would be improved by their very existence. Generous and selfish all in the same moment, the second child became a walking contradiction of pomp and generosity.
Then after just a little more time, a third child joined the family. This child had two older siblings to watch. Siblings who sometimes bickered, but usually got along. This third child admired them and envied them. As the child grew, the third was convinced that the first and second children had made many foolish mistakes. Trying to do better, the third child took some of the rules and regulations which governs the first child and the conviction of the second child.
The three children fell to bickering. Sometimes it is just a mild grumbling and glaring at one another. At other times it grows to a wild fury and only when both sides are bruised and bleeding do they stop fighting. The children crow their triumphs. They berate their losses as unfair. Each blames the other for all the problems in the relationship. Each turns to their beloved father for justification on their rightness.
Watching this, the father of these three children grieves. He is a good father and knows his children must make their own choices. He tries to counsel them in the ways of cooperation and love, but when they come to him and each shows pride in the blood on their hands from their siblings… all he can do is weep.
Why does the fiercest fighting always happen between siblings? Can’t we all agree we love our father and use that as a starting place for peace?