Genesis 4: Every Man for Himself?

Toto, I don't think we're in Eden anymore!

Genesis 4, as you may or may not know, is the story of Cain and Abel, another familiar story. Brothers Cain and Abel bring their offerings to God—Cain, the older of the brothers, brings "an offering of the fruit of the ground" (4:3) and Abel brings "of the firstlings of his flock and of their fat portions"—and God, much to Cain's unhappiness, likes Abel's offering but not Cain's. So Cain kills Abel.

There is much that can be debated in this chapter, ranging from God's favourite foods to the importance of family to God's justice to sin and foolishness to—well, you get the point. It is a story with which we are (almost) all at least somewhat familiar, and about which we all seem to have opinions. In these verses is the first real conflict of the good and evil within human nature, the first time we see the results of our new awareness of both good and evil, of our free will.

"If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is couching at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it," says God. (4:7) We have a choice, God tells us; we always have a choice. The freedom to choose well, to do what is good, is always ours, and yet that freedom, that knowledge of good, lies in tension with sin always crouching at our doors. Knowing goodness means knowing evil. We must be masters of ourselves.

Cain falls prey to sin; he kills his own brother. "Am I my brother's keeper?" he famously says. (4:9) Much less famously, yet just as profoundly, God says, "The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground." (4:10) Cain, in defense of his jealous hate, says it's "every man for himself"; he is not responsible for his brother. Yet he is wrong.

"The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground." The very ground, the dirt, the soil itself, cries for justice, cries out against Cain's heartless action. Abel is dead, and yet the world itself speaks, gives voice to his spilled blood. The story of Cain and Abel is, to me, not a warning against a fickle God with particular dietary tastes, but a reminder of how deeply connected we all are to each other and to the earth.

And the justice administered in this story is not "an eye for an eye": Cain cries out, "I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and whoever finds me will slay me," (4:14) yet God says no. "'Not so! If any one slays Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.' And the LORD put a mark on Cain, lest any who came upon him should kill him." (4:15) Rather than add to the bloodshed, God leaves Cain to suffer the guilt, to experience, as Dumbledore might say, "a fate worse than death": he is alone, disconnected, outcast.

Poor Cain. The story of Cain and Abel serves as an example of what we are really choosing when we choose hate, jealousy, and evil. Cain, led by the deceit of sin, chooses to suffer a fate much worse than death. The story says much more about us and sin than it does about whether God likes her steaks rare or well-done; it tells us that sin latches onto our weaknesses, our insecurities, and leads us to harm and to hate. God tells us we must choose, but we really can choose. It is both our freedom and our burden. Genesis 4 asks us to choose love, not hate, to be our brother's keeper, not murderer.