When Isaac gave a blessing to Jacob, why did he think there was nothing left for the other twin brother, Esau? The blessing he gave was pretty vague. He didn’t make a will with two flocks of sheep and a dozen camels; instead he promised unspecified amounts of stuff like dew and crops, which are there for the taking. He didn’t give a patch of land, he didn’t give away his favorite stick or special rock. So why did both he and Esau think there was nothing left for Esau?

Sometimes we assume that the world’s bounty is finite. We like to assign a numerical value to everything: the destruction wrought by a hurricane, the size of a country’s economy, the degree of happiness in Bhutan. Everybody knows the important things can’t be quantified–even students in business school, I suppose–but in our society it’s hard in our society to resist the temptation to think in quantities.

A brief exchange between Antony and Cleopatra in Shakespeare’s play exemplifies the point. Magnanimous Antony is oh, so different from the rest of those pettifogging Romans, as Cleopatra teases him with being just like his countrymen:

Cleo: If it be love indeed, tell me how much.
Ant: There’s beggary in the love that can be reckon’d.
Cleo: I’ll set a bourn (limit) how far to be beloved.
Ant: Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

No, love has no limit; like dew, it represents infinite bounty. A parent’s love for one child need not diminish love for another.

I once heard a sermon on Cain and Abel: Cain’s failing, said the Rabbi, was in thinking that God’s love must be limited. If God took Abel’s offering, God could not possibly accept Cain’s with equal delight. Likewise, once Isaac had wished for dew for Jacob, Esau thought there must be less for him. (If the brothers spent a night in the open air, wouldn’t they both wake up soaked with dew?)

Does happiness among the Bhutanese diminish my happiness?

Surely not, surely not. There’s happiness enough for everyone who wants it, and no limit to love and hugs and the joy of family and friends. Still, on dark and miserable days, this lesson is hard to remember, and Esau is one of the first who needed to learn it.

(And I suppose I have to add that hatred, resentment and misery are infinite, too.)