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By Nicole Seiferth
Norman Maclean called being our brothers’ keepers “one of the most haunting of instincts.” Maclean was describing how he felt about his little brother, Paul, in his novella about their relationship, A River Runs Through It. I think Jesus would understand what Maclean was talking about — when he called on his followers to love their neighbors as themselves, he made them their brothers’ and sisters’ keepers.
The writers of the Bible knew all about the difficult imperative of loving and living with your brother. By the fourth chapter of Genesis, Abel, one of creation’s first children, is murdered by his brother, Cain. After the murder, God asks Cain where Abel is and Cain responds, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
Cain’s question can be understood metaphorically — humanity asking if we are responsible for one another — but it’s just as powerful taken literally. There are few things as intense as the relationship between siblings: intense love, hate, rivalry, worry, hilarity — often all at once. Brothers and sisters can often be found in the movies, but Slumdog Millionaire (2008) and You Can Count on Me (2000) are two films that delve into the heart of what being a sibling really means — good and bad.
Salim Malik, the elder brother in Slumdog Millionaire, believes strongly that he is his brother’s keeper, but he would also recognize Cain’s motivation for violence and destruction. He and his brother, Jamal, begin life in the slums of Mumbai. Salim is by turns protective of and cruel to Jamal in a way that would be familiar to siblings the world over. When their mother is murdered, the boys’ relationship becomes the defining element of their lives. As we watch them grow up throughout the film, each milestone leaves the impression of Jamal as good and noble, Salim as unkind and brutal. But, several times over, Jamal would not have lived to be good and noble without Salim’s pragmatic and cold-hearted survival skills. As they approach adulthood, Salim has his Cain moment, permanently marring Jamal’s love for his elder brother and his illusion that Salim shared his moral view of the world.
That violence of disillusionment is also apparent in You Can Count on Me, a film that features another set of orphaned siblings, Sammy (Laura Linney) and Terry Prescott (Mark Ruffalo). Sammy’s face is a constant tight smile; she’s holding it all together — son, new boss, strained relationship with her on-again, off-again boyfriend — until she gets a letter from her younger brother, Terry. Then, Sammy’s face breaks into a grin of pure delight, which sticks around as she plans for his visit, cleans house, and dresses herself carefully to meet his bus. The smile fades, though, after the first long hug with this brother who has been away from home for a long time. The reality of the disheveled state of his clothes, his unshaven, nervous face, his chaotic life sinks in — and then all she wants to do is fix him.
Terry, for his part, both desperately wants his big sister’s approval and resents how she criticizes his life. Terry can’t keep a job, his girlfriend just tried to commit suicide, he’s spent some time in jail, and none of it, in any way (according to him), is his fault. But despite his faults, he has a natural ability to empathize with other people at their most screwed-up moments, including his sister — something Sammy badly needs just around the time he comes back.
Like Salim and Jamal, Sammy and Terry are completely different from one another. Although they love one another fiercely, they spend most of the movie struggling against their own illusions about life (Sammy’s got it all under control, Terry’s fighting against a universe that’s out to get him) and each other. They don’t lay a violent hand on one another, but their verbal jabs inflict lasting emotional damage.
I always liked the part of the story in Genesis where God not only lets Cain live, but marks him so that no one can harm him. It’s justice, not retribution. How do you live with the knowledge that you murdered your own brother? The Bible records no more heinous misdeeds by Cain, so I like to think he spent the rest of his life searching for redemption.
Redemption is at the heart of the life of faith in a loving God, in Jesus’ call for us to love our neighbors and, yes, in every sibling relationship. And it’s apparent in these two films, as well.
When Salim and Jamal meet again as grown men, Jamal hits his brother as hard as he can and shouts, “I will never forgive you!” Salim, now a hit man for a gangster, stays on the ground for a moment and mutters, “I know.” In the end, Salim admits to himself, with lasting consequences, that underneath the cruelty and violence, he has the capacity for the sacrificial love that Jamal exhibits daily.
Terry Prescott prepares to once again leave his small New York hometown. Despite their last epic argument, Sammy waits with him for his bus, and they sit there awkwardly and unhappily. “What’s going to happen to you?” Sammy asks Terry, distraught, admitting how much she worries about him, implicitly admitting how much she wants to fix it all. “Nothing too bad,” he says. Then they hug and Terry gets on a bus — both unsure of how they fit into the other’s life, but entirely sure of their love for each other.
Nicole Seiferth is managing editor for website and parish publications.
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