Today’s Word of the Day is “Nemesis.”

 

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An old nemesis of mine recently died of brain cancer.  He was about my age, just shy of sixty.  He wasn’t an all-bad guy and he wasn’t exactly a rival.  But he did at one point very publicly betray and humiliate me.  That turned him from one I considered – if not a close friend and ally, then at least one I regarded neutrally – into one of whom I said with venom, “May you die a painful death.”  Sometimes – through no agency or action of our own – those kind of words have a way of turning true.

My nemesis was an Air Force veteran, a paramedic, and later, a firefighter.  This last was actually the root cause of the tumor that eventually killed him.  He participated in many a toxic clean up after fires on the bases where he served.  Given how rare in the general population this kind of cancer is, the causal link between some of those chemicals and glioblastoma multiforme for firefighters has now been pretty firmly established. Which is only to say that the seeds of his demise were sown long before I ever met him:  My evil-eye had nothing to do with it.

His family first knew something was wrong when, on a mountain bike vacation trip up the Kilauea volcano in Hawaii, he started swearing a blue streak.  Usually circumspect and mild-mannered, this was totally out of character for him.  After the necessary scans, he was diagnosed and given a lousy prognosis.  This is the kind of cancer you really don’t want to have.

Being a fighter at heart, he opted for aggressive treatment options that included multiple “debulking” procedures.  That’s what they call tumor surgery when the tumor you’re going after has no hope of complete removal or cure.  These surgeries left his head wrapped like a mummy in gauze.  In addition, he also joined experimental chemotherapy clinical trials.  The family even moved houses to be closer to the docs at Anschutz Medical Center where he was being treated. It was all to little or no avail.  He died just under three years post-diagnosis.

 

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The Greeks – as with many cultures both ancient and modern – have a deeply ingrained sense of retributive justice.  It’s not just “an eye for an eye” or “a tooth for a tooth.”  Those particular Old Testament formulations were actually a measured and progressive advance from alternatives common at the time they were first written.  No, the Pagan baseline was this:  You screw with me in any way, shape, or form… and I will kill you.  Then, I’ll kill your children.  And if you have them, I’ll kill your grand-kids too.  Then, I’ll burn down your village and salt your fields – thus making them unusable for the next, oh, say, 100 years or so.  And then, just for kicks, I’ll throw a dead cow down each of your village’s wells to foul the water supply (ditto).  So, better not screw with me:  Capische?

We’ve seen a shift in this country of late from more measured Judaeo-Christian forms of  conflict resolution back toward the Greek goddess Nemesis, and let me tell you, it’s not pretty.  <I’m not naming any names here.  Lord knows, there’s plenty of that stuff available on the Internet for those who seek it.>   All I’m saying is, forget about a higher standard like “We forgive those who trespass against us” or “Love your enemies.”  Notions like those are no longer just quaint,  they’re unthinkable.  Maybe they always were?  I dunno.

<Hey, gimme a break here, I don’t make this stuff up – I’m just the messenger!>

 

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So, what’s a proper response when an old nemesis dies a painful death?  We could gloat, I guess.  Say “He got what was coming to him.”  Say, “See what happens when you betray people?” But by any fair or just rendering of the facts, this kind of response just isn’t tenable – for if it were, we’d ALL be keeling over with brain tumors – or worse.

<Again, I’m not naming any names… but you know who you are!>

There is another way, of course – a different path. “Mercy triumphs over judgement” is how the epistle-writer James puts it.  This isn’t exactly “forgive and forget,” but neither is it pissing on a nemesis’ grave either.  How about this:  Instead of nursing an old grudge, inquire after (or indeed, work to ensure) the health and well-being of the nemesis’ widow and orphan? You don’t have to pen a glowing eulogy for the guy.  But why not – in place of salting his fields – maybe plant a small tree in the fallen foe’s honor?  Maybe one with a tasteful little plaque underneath, just to remind people of, you know, a salient detail or two?  What could that hurt?  Are we really so insecure that we’ve got to place our enemy’s head on a pike at the city gates just to show everybody what’s what and who’s who?  I mean, REALLY?

 

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OK, I admit,  maybe it’s a bit more than “just a messenger” here. Think of this post as a newly planted tree, perhaps.  A small one with a tasteful bronze plaque underneath.  Over the course of time, add a bit of water and some sunlight – who knows?  Out of that black dirt something good just might grow. There are worse things in this old world, you know.  And we don’t have to travel far down the road to see them.