Scripture: Genesis 4:1-16.
I’m afraid I don‘t have too many happy words for you this morning. The scripture doesn’t have too many happy words in it. To me anyway, the story of Cain and Abel is really bleak. About as bleak as you can get. There is no happy ending, and not a single one of the three or five characters comes out looking very good.
So maybe I need to tell you why I chose this passage in the first place. I could have skipped over it, even after I decided to do a series on Genesis this summer. The first couple of chapters I sort of felt I had to do—creation, Adam and Eve, Garden of Eden—how could you preach on Genesis and ignore those stories that come right at the beginning, and that are so deeply part of our faith. But Cain and Abel I actually did think about not doing. A guy murders his brother. This was not a good thing to do. It’s not a good idea to murder your brother, or anyone else for that matter. Lesson over. Flip to the next story.
I could have taken that attitude but the reason I didn’t is that I thought to myself: what if the issue here is not exactly murder, but violence? The wording change made a big difference to me. I am concerned—most people I know are concerned—about violence: violence that many of us feel is almost becoming a way of life in our society, violence in the media, violence in the streets, violence in schools, violence in homes. In our society, how can a person not be concerned about violence? And here we have the first instance of violence in the Bible. Shouldn’t we at least stop and look to see what this passage may say to us about violence—origins, causes, ways to understand it, ways to stop it…something?
That’s where I started with this passage. And yes, the story does have something to say about why Cain killed Abel. It says that after a while Adam and Eve had children and the first, the older child they named Cain and the younger child they named Abel. And Cain grew up and became a farmer and Abel grew up and became a herdsman. And in the course of time, they both decided to make an offering to God. And Cain brought some produce, which is what he had to bring, being a farmer, and Abel killed one of his animals, which is what he had, and brought the dead animal as his offering. God looked on these offerings and decided that Abel’s was better. God liked Abel’s offering better, which is not too far from liking Abel better, and God somehow let them both know about this. Cain was not happy. Cain got angry. Cain let God know about this. God said (I’m paraphrasing here): Come on now, Cain. Let’s not go ballistic about this. And don’t be a crybaby. There’s really no need to be upset at all. So I liked Abel’s offering. So what? Just mind your own business and be a good boy and everything will be fine. Cain didn’t think so. How could he trust this God anyway, who liked his brother better, his younger brother, for no good reason? So the more Cain thought about it the angrier he got, until finally one day he just had to do something. So he took his brother out in the field, and then Cain killed his brother Abel.
So there we have it. The story of the first murderer. Cain. The first man to turn to violence to settle a dispute or to vent his rage or to find a scapegoat for his problems or to do whatever it was Cain was doing or thought he was doing when he killed his brother. And the truth is, I think, at the end of the story we still don’t know why Cain killed his brother; at least I don’t know.
Notice I said a minute ago that the story does have some things to say about why Cain killed Abel, but that’s all it really does. It says a few things. It relates more how it came to be that Cain killed Abel. It does not say why—really. It doesn’t offer any real reasons, excuses, explanations, justifications, or rationalizations, and it certainly doesn’t offer any solutions, doesn’t tell us how we’re supposed to react or what we’re supposed to do to keep people from killing each other or acting out their violent urges.
I’ve always had some sympathy for Cain. He got a raw deal. He innocently brought an offering that he thought was O.K., and God gave Cain the back of God’s hand. God dissed Cain. Actually what it says is not just that God preferred Abel’s offering. It says that for Cain and his offering, God had no regard. And that wasn’t very nice of God. It was very un-Godlike of God. In fact the first time I can remember reading this story, I wanted to talk back to God myself. When it said that God had no regard for Cain and his offering, I was saying inside: Wait a minute. That’s not fair. That’s not right. You’re not supposed to act like that, God. What are you doing, going around having no regard for people? If I were Cain, my countenance would fall too.
So I have always felt that Cain had a legitimate bone to pick with God. Yeah, I know Cain goes on to kill his brother, and that’s not a good thing to do, and just because you’re angry is no reason to go off killing people, and besides it wasn’t Abel who did Cain wrong. It was God. So Cain doesn’t come off very well here. But then neither does God. And God did it first. I’ve always been ready to argue Cain’s case here.
Then again some people have pointed out that there are really five characters in this story, but two of them are present only by their absence—Adam and Eve. Here we have a story not only about the first murder but about a pretty serious sibling rivalry, and where are the parents. Nowhere to be found. We may have here not only the first case of murder, and the first case of sibling rivalry, but also the first case of parental neglect.
God could certainly have made a difference in Cain’s life if God had acted better in the first place, and maybe even if God had been a little more sympathetic after God saw that Cain was upset. But what about the earthly parents too. Aren’t they supposed to step in when one of their kids is having trouble? Aren’t they supposed to give the self-esteem a little boost when they can, have an ear ready listen, help guide a child through difficult times, and so forth and so on.
It does sound like Cain and Abel were grown by this time, and it is true that parents aren’t responsible for the stupid or immoral actions of their children, not always, but sometimes they are—sort of—and sometimes more than sort of. It is possible for parents to do a just plain bad job of parenting. And some people have noted the absence of parents and parental love in Cain’s life.
And yet in the end you look at a violent act like Cain’s and you can say all these things and you can talk about all the circumstances in a person’s life and what might have been different, but still when you ask why someone would actually kill his brother, for me there is really no answer. Why would someone beat up their child, or their spouse? Maybe the abuser was himself abused as a child. A sad circumstance, but not a reason. Why do teenagers enter a high school and begin shooting? Did they have a bad home life? Were they mistreated by their peers? Maybe so. Maybe there were these and dozens of others circumstances that created the conditions for violence. But still in the end, I ask why, and even though my mind can come up with things to say, my heart can say only……….
So I admit I came to a standstill with this line of thought. As to what the story of Cain and Abel has to say to us about this inclination toward violence that human beings seem to have, I’m not sure. I went through my thoughts with you this morning because I think it’s important that we at least think about it, this question of violence, and keep on thinking about it, even when we aren’t sure what to think, and maybe all we can think of to do is be dismayed. And maybe that is enough for scripture to do for us sometimes, just to ask us to keep thinking, hold up this image of ourselves to look at, remind us that this is no incidental or accidental part of our lives that we can pretend is not a serious problem. Maybe the story of Cain and Abel is there just to keep the issue of violence on our screen, as we say these days, and to ask for answers, or for wise thoughts, or for a blueprint to end violence is to ask for too much.
But having thought that, I still couldn’t let go of this passage. Actually there were some rather sobering thoughts I had that grew out of my reading and thinking that wouldn’t let go of me.
One of them has to do with religion. Isn’t it interesting that the trouble starts here when Cain and Abel decide to make a sacrifice to God? The scripture actually says that in the course of time Cain and Abel decided to bring a sacrifice to God. In other words, in the course of time there was religion. And then the trouble starts. Suddenly there is dissension, jealousy, anger, violence, and death. It’s not all the direct result of religion, not exactly, but religion is involved here. Whose religion is better? Whose religion does God like better? Whose religion is truer? Rather than bringing people together, rather than finding our common ground as human beings, religion has often been the source of division, setting brother against brother, person against person, leading sometimes to bitterness and anger and violence and killing. On other occasions we can spend much more time on this subject than I’m going to today, but I felt that I at least had to report this observation. Again maybe the scripture in this case just holds up something for us to think about: we would do well to beware of religion, especially those of us who are involved in it would do well to beware of the human harm religion can do.
Another sobering thought. Cain started out being a farmer, but after he killed Abel he went on to found the first city. Over the years people who have thought that cities were by nature ugly, evil places have pointed out the first city was founded by the first murderer. Being a city person, I’ve never had much sympathy with that kind of thinking. But here’s something that does get me. The thought that Cain went on in effect to found a civilization, leaving behind the dead body of his brother. At one point in the story God says to Cain “Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” But eventually cities are built and time passes and the brother’s blood no longer reaches the ears of too many people.
Cain kills Abel and builds a civilization on top of his dead body. Hebrews build a society over the dead bodies of Canaanites. Romans build an empire over the dead bodies of Greeks and Gauls. Europeans build several civilizations on top of the dead bodies and stolen lands of indigenous people of North and South America, and European Americans build a nation on the dead and enslaved bodies of Africans. On a smaller scale—but it’s the same kind of issue—a downtown mall is built in Charlottesville made possible by the removal of the people and the death of the community of Vinegar Hill. And the Shenandoah National Park is created but at the expense of the people who once lived in the mountains.
I don’t know whether the Cain and Abel story is supposed to remind me of all this, but it did. And it does this without giving me a very clear idea of what I’m supposed to do when I am reminded. I enjoy the downtown mall, and I will continue to enjoy the downtown mall, but I rarely go there any more, especially after seeing the play on Vinegar Hill, without thinking of that episode in the history of what is now my community, even though I wasn’t here at the time and don’t know anyone personally who lived in Vinegar Hill.
I am also not going to stop enjoying the many blessings of living in the United States of America, in spite of the sins of our national past. But what Cain and Abel reminds me of, in addition to just the raw facts, is maybe that however much we may enjoy the benefits of progress and prosperity, our souls may need to continue to hear the voices that cry out to us from the ground, to hear the voices of mourning or of sorrow that admittedly disturb our enjoyment of “the good things” that progress has brought. In a society that places such a high value on progress on prosperity, it is good to have a voice which reminds us of the price that has been paid, and not to let those voices be silenced.
Which leads me to one more thought about this passage that got to my insides. I’ve been talking a lot about Cain this morning, and of course what he did is the front page story. Murder always makes the front pages and draws the most attention. I’ve also talked some about God, or at least the God we see in this story, and I’ve taken some exception to the way this god behaves. The person I haven’t talked much about is Abel, and that’s probably because he’s just the innocent bystander and victim in all this and there’s not much to say about him, right? Well, not quite. In fact not at all.
You recall back when God was having no regard for Cain and Cain was having problems with this and Cain and God were even having some discussions about this unfairness. Where was Abel when all this was going on? Actually, I don’t know where Abel was, but I know what he was. He was silent. His brother Cain had gotten a raw deal. His brother Cain was not feeling good about himself, about God, about the world probably. His brother Cain had been treated unfairly, unjustly. And what did Abel do about it? Nothing. What did Abel say about it? Nothing. Did Abel make a single small squeak about this? No, he said absolutely nothing. He wasn’t the cause of the unfairness, but he benefited from it, and he was silent about it.
It is not Cain’s sin that really gets to me in this story. It is Abel’s. I have tried to see if there is any way that I am like Cain that would help me relate to the story. And there probably is, but frankly I’m not sure yet what it is. Maybe I’ll get clearer on that some other time. But it’s all too clear to me how I am like Abel. It’s his silence. An injustice has been done and Abel is silent. And how often have I been silent, when I should have been standing up for a brother or sister? The answer is I don’t even know. There are specific situations I can remember, when I maybe let a joke or a remark go unchallenged, and I know I should have said something, and though it may have been a relatively small incident, I still remember it and feel guilty about it. But what about the larger silences? They are there too, and I can’t make them go away. They will always be there to haunt my conscience. And the story of Abel will always be there to remind me.
A few days ago J and E C and I met to talk over some ideas about worship today. J said at the time that he was asking himself how he might be like Cain, because clearly the scripture is not just asking us to recognize that murder is bad, but invites us to ask—maybe—how am I like Cain? And so he said that it occurred to him that maybe a good song would be, “Standin’ In the Need of Prayer”. It’s me, O Lord. Not other people. It’s me. It’s me that this scripture is somehow about, and it’s me that’s in need of prayer. As I said a minute ago, I never did get too clear about how I might be like Cain. But J’s instinct was absolutely right. I have to say, it’s me, O Lord, not because I see myself so clearly in Cain, but because I see myself all too clearly in Abel.
Fortunately there is a place to go with that realization. One place to go, quite clearly, is simply to resolve to ourselves to be less silent in the future. We can’t take away the silences of the past, and we shouldn’t make any rash promises that we will never be silent again, but we can resolve to at least be less silent in the future. And then at the same time to say to ourselves that we are standin’ in the need of prayer…in two senses. We are standin’ in the need of having prayers said for us. But we are standin’ in the need of prayer also in the sense of needing to be the one’s saying the prayers. Because I can only hope and believe that it will be out of our prayers that we will begin to find the words and the resolve to be less silent in the future than we have been in the past, and to find ways to work at building a world that is not built on violence and silences, a world that is different from the one bequeathed to us by Cain and Abel. Amen.
Jim Bundy
July 23,2000