Genesis 4:1-16 "Hearing Abel, Raising Cain" Scott Hoezee

Bible stories. Many of us grew up with them even as my children are doing now. In the Christian school, Bible is always taught, with an emphasis on the stories themselves (at least in the elementary grades). Here at church the teachers in our TLC and Worship Center programs are specially trained to tell Bible stories in ways designed to evoke in children wonder and curiosity about the stories. Those of us who are parents of young children probably have at least one "Children's Bible" in the house, and maybe we use it for devotions at the dinner table. It is, of course, a good thing to do, introducing our little ones to the rhythms of Scripture in ways we hope will stick with them throughout their lives.

But we should also hope that the day will come when they will be able to move on from the simple narrative renderings of the average children's Bible to better and deeper understandings of these stories. Right now the Bible storybook my five-year-old is using reduces even complicated and long stories to no more than half-a-dozen very short and simple sentences. Here's what Genesis 4 boils down to: "Adam and Eve had two sons. Their names are Cain and Abel. Abel obeyed God, but Cain did not obey God. Cain was angry and killed Abel. This was wrong. Adam and Eve were very sad. God was sad, too."

The next step up at our house is a book designed for a 3^rd Grade reading level, and it is more expansive, breaking the Cain and Abel story up into two readings for a total of about ten paragraphs. Then we have yet another "Children's Bible" that was given to my daughter at our church in Princeton. This is the most expansive text of all, clearly designed for children a little bit older yet. But the main point here is that there is a progression of narrative complexity as children grow up. Continuing to progress and so deepen our understanding is something we should hope happens to all of us over the course of our lives.

But I wonder if it does. Many times it seems that even for adults, most of our presuppositions and assumptions as to the content and meaning of Bible stories are still pretty much what we learned in Sunday school. If so, this may prevent us from approaching these stories in a fresh way. It may also prevent us from seeing the marvelous manner by which the biblical authors layered these stories with meaning. It may be necessary to reduce these stories down to simple bare bones to help little children understand, but the day should come when we are willing to restore these tales back to their original form.

Because yet another problem with adults' carrying around the flannelgraph versions of these stories is that we retain the sometimes overly simplistic ways by which various characters get rendered for children. The version of the story I read to you a moment ago said flat out that "Cain did not obey God." One of the higher-level children's Bibles we have at home says that God didn't like Cain from the beginning because "Cain was cold and proud and self-willed." We retain those characterizations such that even as adults, we all-but assume that Cain came out of Eve's womb already wearing a black baby bonnet whereas Abel was born wearing a white hat! We also remember how the children's Bible called this story "The First Murder," and so we assume that Genesis 4 is in the Bible mostly to serve as an illustration of the spread of sin.

Now, of course, there is some truth to all of that, but it is far from the whole truth. As was true last week when we looked at Genesis 3, so also tonight: this is not just a story about what happened "once upon a time" but is also a story for today, for us. Ultimately, it is also a tale that, if seen from the right angle, may shed a startling light on that central event in the Christian Scriptures: the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. But before we get ahead of ourselves, let's get to the story and see if we can approach it in a reasonably fresh way.

It begins simply and straightforwardly enough: Adam and Eve start a family. They have two sons. Cain, the older of the two, grows into a farmer, and the younger lad, Abel, becomes a shepherd. Probably fifteen or twenty years are collapsed into just one verse here. But notice that aside from their eventual occupations, we are told nothing about Cain or Abel. They seem to be decent sons and hard workers. They are also both apparently religious people, no doubt because of how mom and dad had raised them. So they honor Yahweh by giving offerings--a sacrifice specific to each man's vocation. Each is said to have brought "some" of what his work had helped to produce. Cain brought some produce from his gardens and Abel brought some firstborn animals from his flocks.

So far so good. In the past you have no doubt heard it suggested (including from me) that a red flag gets raised here when you read that whereas Abel brought one of the firstborn from his flock, Cain is said to have brought just some produce but it is not identified as from among the firstfruits of his harvest. So maybe the difference is that Cain kept back the best for himself whereas Abel willingly offered some of the very best. Maybe this indicates a somewhat lukewarm spirituality on Cain's part over against the true-blue piety of young Abel. And this is a possibility.

But if you let the text of Genesis tell the story (and if you begin reading the Bible at Genesis 1:1 and then keep right on reading up to this point), there is reason to wonder about this easy scoring of Abel's piety over against Cain's more selfish nature. So far in the Bible there has not been a single mention about the need to sacrifice, much less regulations and stipulations about bringing firstfruits and firstborn. God's giving out of that kind of law is hundreds of years in the future (and several biblical books away in Leviticus). Of course, since Genesis was written and read well after God gave the law, it is possible that the narrator of this story did intend for Israelite readers to pick up on this difference between the two boys' offerings. But it is not glaringly obvious in the text of Genesis 4.

If you were reading this for the first time without an awareness of the later regulations that would govern sacrifices in Israel, you would be startled by verses 4-5 and their sudden, out-of-the-blue pronouncement that God liked Abel's offering but not Cain's. Why? We are not told. But since we don't want Yahweh to come off as arbitrary and capricious, we try to track down the rationale for God's reaction to something that went awry with Cain's offering. But the text itself is not terribly helpful here. Indeed, we're also not told how it was that Cain sensed his non-acceptance over against Abel's being favorably regarded. How did he know this? The text offers nary a clue.

But Cain knew somehow, and it upset him. He was angry but also rather sad and depressed--why didn't God like his worship? It's not a bad question. After all, before this story is finished, Cain will become guilty of something quite horrible--so horrible as to make whatever was wrong with his sacrifice look pretty trivial by comparison. But once Cain is a murderer, God takes steps to protect him despite Cain's banishment to Nod. But if God found it possible to deal with Cain graciously after a murder, why wasn't God a bit more lenient when Cain's only crime was keeping the juiciest tomato for his own tossed salad instead of sacrificing it to Yahweh?

Again, we are not told. What is obvious, however, is that God likes Cain at some basic level. God's words to Cain in verses 6-7 are not harsh and even demonstrate some genuine concern over Cain's well-being. God is warning Cain off from the sin knocking at the front door of Cain's heart. Whatever may be overall wrong with Cain's attitude, it is not so bad that Cain is helpless. Yahweh suggests that with some effort, Cain can wrestle temptation to the ground and become the master over it instead of its victim.

Did Cain ponder this at all? Did he try to wrestle with his frustrations and angers? We don't know because the narrative wastes no time in hauling Abel out into the field where the deadly deed is done. Have you ever noticed that Abel never speaks in the Bible? He never says a word, at least not until his blood cries out from the ground. The only words of Abel are the cries of the innocent victim of violence and abuse. It is this cry that rings deafeningly in God's ears. Cain cannot get away with this crime. God even says to him in verse 10, "Listen! Don't you hear the blood crying out!?" Apparently Cain didn't. Neither do we most of the time. But if our loving and almighty God really does hear the blood of the innocent crying out from the soil of this earth, then the roar of noise in God's head must be maddeningly loud most days.

Because Cain's crime goes on and on. So does its punishment. Like a farmer who sows poison into the soil of his fields, so for Cain in dumping his brother's blood out onto the ground: nothing will grow for him now. Cain, the farmer, is now literally up-rooted from the ground, consigned to be a restless wanderer on the earth. He won't be able to sink down roots anymore but moves to the land of Nod, which is Hebrew for "wanderland." But Cain senses that to live east of Eden and so cut off from Yahweh was a kind of living death. Without God, he would face death, be a candidate for murder himself. It is an irony that you can still see today: even murderers who seem to have so little regard for life nevertheless value their own lives pretty highly! Cain who killed his brother begs God to please not let the same fate come to him!

You almost expect God to tell Cain, "Tough! You chose death and so now you need to take your chances in facing the specter of your own death." But as was the case last week with Adam and Eve, so also here: humanity keeps choosing death but God keeps insisting on life. God knows that the cycle of violence needs to be snapped, and so rather than let Cain suffer Abel's fate, he somehow marks Cain in a way that will ensure the continuation of his life. It was bad enough that Abel's blood was screaming into the divine ears, God could not bear to let Cain's blood shout out one day, too. So God chooses life in the face of death. He raises Cain up, resurrects him to a new life (albeit a restless life for now).

Somehow, through it all, God seems to love Cain. Who knows why--he doesn't seem terribly love-able. But in the mystery of grace God is able to reach out to save Cain at the very moment when the blood of Abel is still screaming. If you are able to hold those two images in tension, you are approaching the mystery of the gospel. Every children's Bible I have ever looked at shows some picture of Cain whomping Abel on the head with a rock or a stick. It's terrible. But that is not the image Genesis 4 leaves you with: instead you see on one side a pool of Abel's blood, crying and screaming into God's ear. It pains God to hear it and so he has his hands cupped over his ears. Yet at the same moment God is bending down and kissing Cain's forehead, marking Cain for life!

Screaming blood and kissing lips, justified punishment and gracious preservation, Cain's bloody hands and God's mark of protection on Cain's forehead: the images collide and bewilder. Why does God keep insisting on life? Why doesn't the cry of Abel's blood have the last word? Why? Because only God may have the last word, and that word is life.

Despite the fame of this story, the rest of the Bible, including the New Testament, makes very little reference to Genesis 4. But the single most intriguing reference comes in Hebrews 12, which is a passage that picks up on the irony and tensions I was just mentioning. As is typical of the Book of Hebrews, the author in chapter 12 says that the presence of Jesus has changed everything. We don't need to worry that in coming before God we are coming before some dreadful dictator who should terrify us. Because now, the author says in verse 24, we come "to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel."

The blood of Jesus has something to say--apparently the shed blood of the innocent always has something to say. Abel's blood cried out to God in screams of horror, injustice, violence, and death. Jesus' blood cried out, too, but it speaks "a better word." What is that better word? Grace. Life. Resurrection. God didn't let anyone shed Cain's blood because the cycles of violence and death must stop. God insisted on life, even for Cain. But it wasn't enough in history for God to keep stepping into one situation at a time. Something needed to be done to save the whole creation, and that something was found through the sacrifice of God's Son. Here was the final and ultimate innocent victim whose blood was shed unjustly. But because he was God's Son, he could rise back up to speak a better, final word. Jesus' blood does not scream, it sings; it does not cry, it croons; it does not darken into a pool of death but becomes a fountain of life.

The blood of Abel cried out this creation's infatuation with death. The blood of Jesus speaks the better word of God's infatuation with life. And the wonder of God's insistence on life for this creation is that in the end Jesus took Abel's place but Cain's, too. Jesus stood in for and became a representative of every victim of sin but also of every perpetrator of sin. "While we were yet sinners," the New Testament proclaims, "God loved us and saved us." There is that paradoxical image again: in the background is Abel's screaming blood, in the foreground is God bending to kiss the murderer's forehead. In the background the cross of Jesus, "sorrow and love flowing mingled down" in his precious shed blood; in the foreground a tomb cracked wide open and a risen Christ Jesus with enough love, grace, and now also resurrection power to forgive those who crucified and denied him.

Cain chose death and could never quite settle down again because of it. East of Eden there was only restlessness and wandering. Cain set us up for a whole history of restless wandering--the land of Nod has been most everywhere, it seems. We are so often so restless in our wanderings to find ourselves, to find our purpose, to find our place in the grand scheme of things. We peer out into the reaches of space and back to the Big Bang to see if we can find how we fit in the cosmos, but the answer seems to elude us. We peer down into the microscopic intricacies of our DNA to see if we can figure out who we are and how we fit, but the piling up of genetic information isn't ending our restless search for identity and answers. We look back into history to see if evolution can answer the question of who we are and we look forward into the future to wonder if we'll keep evolving and maybe our final destiny and identity are still out there, still up ahead.

Meanwhile in all our restless search for answers and identity, the blood of the innocent keeps getting shed. The cries from the blood-soaked soil in lower Manhattan must send God reeling, but no less also the cries from the soils of Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Afghanistan, Sudan, and everywhere that people die as one group keeps trying to gain mastery over another.

It is no wonder that the One whose shed blood at long last spoke a better word of life also looked out at our restless, wandering human race and said, "Come unto me, you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest." Cain set our human race to wandering, unable to sink down roots into the soil we have sullied. Jesus grants us rest and a settled place to sink down roots into his love and grace. Cain brought us to Nod, Jesus brings us home. Abel's blood spoke of death and injustice, Jesus' blood speaks the better word of life and grace. In common parlance the phrase "raising Cain" means creating chaos and wrecking havoc. In biblical parlance "raising Cain" means creating shalom and granting rest. Blessed are those who can hear in Christ the better word that rescues and reconciles Abel, Cain, and us all. Amen.