Not just a little, but so much that the very soil sparkled. Sounds like paradise, right? But what if that abundance bred not generosity, but an insatiable greed? That's the story of a nameless, ancient people, as recounted in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews.
Their cruelty, we are told, stemmed directly from their immense wealth. They were consumed by miserliness, an unrelenting desire for more and more gold. They couldn't bear the thought of sharing their riches with outsiders. So, they devised a sinister plan: they flooded the highways leading to their city, erasing the roads and making it impossible for anyone to find them. Think about that – actively preventing others from even accessing their community.
But it wasn't just strangers who suffered. Their heartlessness extended to the animal kingdom. They resented even the birds their food, driving them away until they were gone. A stark reminder of how far greed can push us to disrupt the natural order.
And perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this tale is their treatment of each other. They descended into a state of moral decay, where murder became a means to acquire more gold. Ginzberg tells us that when they saw a wealthy man, two of them would conspire to kill him. They'd lure him to a ruin, distract him with conversation, while the other undermined a wall. The wall would collapse, killing the victim, and the two plotters would divide his wealth between them.
It's a gruesome picture, isn't it? A society poisoned by its own prosperity, turning on itself and the world around it.
This story, though fantastical, serves as a powerful cautionary tale. What happens when we prioritize material wealth over compassion, community, and basic decency? The legends suggest that we risk losing our humanity, brick by brick, until we're left with nothing but a hollow shell of greed. It forces us to ask: what truly makes a society rich? Is it overflowing coffers, or is it something far more valuable?