June 24, 2007 (David Hyer)

Scripture Lesson: Genesis 4: 1-16

Now the man knew his wife Eve, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, "I have produced a man with the help of the LORD." Next she bore his brother Abel. Now Abel was a keeper of sheep, and Cain a tiller of the ground. In the course of time Cain brought to the LORD an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel for his part brought of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions. And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his countenance fell. The LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it."
   Cain said to his brother Abel, "Let us go out to the field." And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel, and killed him. Then the LORD said to Cain, "Where is your brother Abel?" He said, "I do not know; am I my brother's keeper?" And the LORD said, "What have you done? Listen; your brother's blood is crying out to me from the ground! And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand. When you till the ground, it will no longer yield to you its strength; you will be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth." Cain said to the LORD, "My punishment is greater than I can bear! Today you have driven me away from the soil, and I shall be hidden from your face; I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and anyone who meets me may kill me." Then the LORD said to him, "Not so! Whoever kills Cain will suffer a sevenfold vengeance." And the LORD put a mark on Cain, so that no one who came upon him would kill him. Then Cain went away from the presence of the LORD, and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden.

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There they are. The first family of humanity is out in the open. This is the first story told about the people of God to the East of Eden. Unsheltered by the walls of the garden, they are alone and afraid.

No time is spent rejoicing in the birth of the first two brothers.
Things are a little too tenuous to linger too long on birthday parties and cute photos.

The storyteller pushes us forward, continuing that movement
from stable relationship to unresolved alienation (1). In the course of time, the scene changes to that of family worship. Cain and Abel are offering up the first fruits of the field, the best of the flock.

It begins again for us the mysterious weaving of God’s hidden will and brings us again into the skulking shadow of death.

God had regard for Abel but not for Cain. Our temptation is to linger on the “why” of Cain’s rejection. Yet we all have known unexpected and unexplained rejection.

What has Cain done, or left undone, for God to reject his offering? Was it not the best he could do? Was Cain’s heart fully in it? Does God like white bread and not whole wheat? Is God claiming to like meat more than vegetables?

Many linger here to speak of the nature of true worship. But such discussion is not here in the text. There’s no social commentary. It’s not a statement on the merits “of cowboy versus farmer (2)”. Or in Texas language, Aggie versus Longhorn.

The merits of Abel and his offering are not explained. We can guess at the why, but any guess will ultimately leave us wanting. Finally, the text gives no reason why.

Theologian Walter Brueggemann says to us: We must shrug and simply say life is not fair. This God will be who God will be (3).”

While the text doesn’t shine a light into the mind of this capricious Creator, the light is shined upon the face of Cain. It is a shadowed face, fallen, shaken and crushed, with a heart boiling beneath his down turned chin.

And it’s to Cain that Yahweh speaks: "Why are you angry, Cain? Why is your spirit downtrodden?  If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking, the very power of death is waiting.
“And its desire is for you, and you should rule over it. It is crouching at the door, (and even the Hebrew says, it is lusting for you) but you must master it."

Is this a warning, a foretelling, an invitation for growth? It’s hard to tell. God isn’t talking about sin like pulling a fire alarm or cursing at a stumped thumb. It’s not the kind of sin portrayed in bubble gum theology or some sit com religion that can be resolved in half an hour. The story is more than a moralizing tale.

What is at stake here is life itself. It’s a kind of sin that is dehumanizing and creation denying. It is a brokenness that lurks and waits and takes on a life of its own. It is a crouching shadow sneaking in on each of us, tearing brother from brother, mother from daughter, state from state and country from country. It tears our true self from true self. It is the very power of death at work in the world and in our lives.

This kind of lurking sin isn’t just in bible stories. It’s in our lives today. It’s in the news. Day after day, a new Cain rises up. How often do we linger on that story?

But here the story doesn’t linger. It is God’s turn to speak again.
"Where is your brother Abel?"

Caught up in anger, shame, sorrow and scandal, Cain replies:
“Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Even before words fade from his lips, Yahweh speaks again. And the scene shifts from investigation to testimony. “Listen; your brother's blood is crying out to me from the ground! “ The gruesome and graphic language paints for us the seriousness of this sulking sin. In taking a life, Cain allows the sin to take on a life of its own. (4)

“And now you are cursed from the ground,” God says, “which has opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand.”
The power of sin drives even to death. “When you till the ground, it will no longer yield to you its strength; you will be a fugitive and a wanderer on this earth."

The shadow of Cain’s down turned chin has turned into the shadow of death, the end of possibility in life and the loss of home and hearth.
And so now the one who in anger rose up now in anguish cries out, with this shadow threatening to even hide Cain from the very face of his creator.

And so Cain cries:
"My punishment is greater than I can bear! I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and anyone who meets me may kill me. I shall be driven away from the soil of my home, and I will even be hidden from your face.”

At these words we do linger, just for a moment. For here the scene changes again. Subtly perhaps, but it changes. This mysterious God speaks again with strange words and strange actions.
Cain is marked. Is it punishment? Is it promise? Is it minimal protection? Could it be the mark of Cain is grace moving through him?

I would argue that it is a bit of both.  Cain is marked not only by the reality of his sin and brokenness but also by grace-filled protection, even minimal protection. I think God here is speaking with an unexpected grace and an unearned grace. What should have been certain danger and death for Cain is turned into promise and improbable possibility. Cain will bear that mark of brokenness by his choice to give into his anger and shame for the rest of his life.

But even here, the text hints to us that while Cain may be marked first by his humanity, he is marked most by the grace of God.
For even in the shadow of death, the face of God does not turn away from him.
Cain is sent out East of Eden to till and work the ground. He is sent away from Eden to work out his life with fear and trembling. He is finally marked by the one who made him, marked with the mysterious grace of God.

I am not really comfortable with this story. Cain’s humanity is too real, and God leaves more questions than answers.  And in Brueggemann words: Life isn’t fair, and God will be who God will be.

The power of Sin and death are real. And it lurks for us. And we are called as best we can to master the grace we are given and the brokenness we bear. We are called to work out our faith with fear and trembling. We carry the marks of our humanity, the bruises of head, hand and heart.
But, too, at the font and the table we receive the mark of the one who made us. And in that one is peace and possibility with grace and life giving mercy.

The one who made us marks us so even in the shadow of death we are never hidden from the face of God.

There is a song that says a song of love is not always loud but is sometimes a cold and broken alleluia, but it is an alleluia none the less. The story of Cain isn’t light or humorous. It takes sin and death seriously, but it seems to take grace more seriously. And it leads us to remember that the one who made us is the one who marks us. And in that mark is a new possibility.

And now to the one who is even now at work within us and around us and is able to do far more than we can ask or imagine. To that one be all honor and glory.
Amen.

(1) Brueggemann, Walter (1982). Genesis: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for teaching and preaching. Louisville: John Knox Press.
(2) Ibid.
(3) Ibid.
(4) Ibid.