The story of Cain and Abel has the power to shock the biblical reader to his or her core. The Bible’s first recorded nuclear family has barely been formed when the first homicide is committed – a fratricide at that. The story elicits pressing questions in the minds of its readers, many of whom seek signs of their own human truths in these foundational texts.

In addressing these questions, we will note that the full chronicle of Cain and Abel includes not only the murder, but also its consequences and the genealogies that ensue from Cain and from Seth, a third brother, born after Abel’s murder.

The first, and most elemental question we face is: What dark, destructive – arguably enduring – human tendencies could have led to this catastrophic turn of events, in which one human being takes the life of another?

Next, and nearly as basic, is the question of why the first biblical homicide is also a fratricide. The attentive reader will surely consider this story in the context of the near-fratricides that plague the remainder of the book of Genesis: Esau’s plan to kill his brother, Jacob, and the plot by the sons of Jacob to murder their brother Joseph. Why does the Bible begin with the trope of fraternal strife and why does this trope recur so persistently throughout Genesis?

As we move beyond the murder, we face questions about the consequences of sin: Are the results of sin primarily punishments imposed by a higher authority – in this case, God? Or are they more along the lines of consequences that are internally generated, the products of the guilt and regret that frequently disturb the peace of the sinner?

We further wonder about the Bible’s hierarchy in approaching different types of sin. Are “social sins” – those sins traditionally referred to as offenses bein adam le-haveiro – such as murder considered more, or less, dire than “ritual” sins – traditionally known as offenses bein adam la-makom – such as eating from Eden’s forbidden fruit?

Because the story contains the most grievous crime one human being can commit against another, we must consider the question: Are some sins too great to be forgiven? Or is repentance always possible, no matter how grave the transgression?

Progressing in the narrative, we reach two exhaustive genealogical lists, which give rise to new questions: What is the narrative function of such lists? Do they serve primarily as technical record-keepers, or do they hint at biographical information about the biblical figures who are named? If certain names are meant to offer insight into the character traits of those who bear them, are those traits preordained? If so, are they then immutable? Or does the narrative leave room for its characters to defy the genetic and environmental “facts” of their birth and strike out in new directions?

To begin addressing these wide-ranging questions, it will be helpful if we divide the Cain-Abel narrative – which spans two full biblical chapters – into five parts: