Torah - The Record of Abel’s Murder - Sheet 8

The extraordinary lacuna in the verse’s opening clause has perplexed and fascinated interpreters throughout the ages. The verse begins with the familiar formula of va-yomer…el, one character said to another. This construction prepares readers for the verbal content that will directly follow. Yet in its place comes a silent, unexplained, and abrupt shift to a new location, the field.

But what did Cain say?

Some commentators look to the previous verse to provide the missing content of Cain’s speech. For example, Ramban reads into the gap an invitation by Cain to his brother to go with him to the field. Ramban’s reading is in line with ancient versions of the Bible such as the Samaritan Pentateuch and the Septuagint, which render the verse: “Cain said to Abel his brother, ‘Let us go out to the field.’”

This reading has the benefit of drawing on information that is already present in the text, albeit in another verse. Moreover, it accounts for the seemingly extraneous detail that the murder took place in the field. It is worth noting that in this view, Cain is guilty of a high level of premeditation in the brutal act that follows. He invites his brother to join him in the unpopulated field so that he may be free to kill him without being observed or obstructed.

Yet more compelling than this contextual reading is the interpretation put forth by Rashi: “He [Cain] entered into contentious words with him [Abel], to create a pretext and to kill him.” Rashi ends his comments by noting, and then rejecting, the rich array of midrashic literature on the topic. In Rashi’s words: “there are many midrashim on this [question], but this is the plain sense of the text.”

Let us begin our analysis of Rashi’s comments by examining the midrashim he dismisses. In Genesis Rabbah, several opinions are put forward regarding the missing words in the verse. Again and again, the midrash poses the question: What were the brothers arguing about? Then, several theories are offered, each in the name of a different talmudic sage. The first rabbi posits that the debate was about the division of the earth’s property and land between the brothers. A second theory has them arguing about where the holy Temple would ultimately be built, whether in the territory of Cain or that of Abel. A third hypothesis is that they argued about their mother, Eve. The assumption here is that in a biblical world that contained but one woman, procreation could take place only by partnering with their mother. Once posited, each of these talmudic theories concludes in the same way: As a result of their argument, “Cain arose over Abel his brother and killed him.”

Twentieth-century Bible scholar Nehama Leibowitz [Nehama Leibowitz on Gen. 4:8] understands these three midrashic scenarios as prototypes. Taken together, they present a powerful, wide-ranging statement about the causes of human conflict and war. At this critical moment, as the first murder is about to be recorded, the rabbis of the midrash urge readers to pause and contemplate the full horror of what is about to enter the chronicles of human history. Essentially, they challenge us to ask: How could this have happened, and why does it continue to happen? What are the grisly forces that, in every generation, lead people to kill one another both in the private sphere and on the battlefield?

In Nehama’s view, the midrashic masters respond to this question with their carefully chosen sample scenarios, which signify the primary motives that have sparked wars throughout the ages. In fact, if we were to scour the cross-generational, cross-continental record of humanity in search of the causes of violent conflict, we would find that invariably, at the roots are differences over land and resources, religion, and sex.

Although there is much enduring relevance to be found in this midrashic reading, Rashi chooses another path entirely in addressing the missing speech in verse 8. As champion of the plain sense of the text, the peshat, Rashi rejects all efforts to reconstruct a dialogue between the brothers. In fact, as the verse reports, only one brother was talking, and as a result, the repeated question of the midrash – what were they arguing about – is mistaken. To Rashi, Cain’s contentious words are a mere pretext, a soliloquy whose intent is to set the stage for a violent act to which he is already committed. In Rashi’s view, not only is the search for Abel’s part in the conversation misguided; it would be equally immaterial to look for the precise content of Cain’s inflammatory monologue.

We might extrapolate from Rashi’s reading a cogent statement of his own about why violent conflict is such a relentless feature of human history. More hazardous than the causes suggested by the midrash – in fact, the cause that weaponizes all others – is humanity’s refusal to engage in authentic, two-sided discourse to address its inevitable differences. As modeled by Cain, warning bells sound when one side chooses to talk at, rather than with the other. It is virtually inevitable that the next step is a descent into violence. (Syntax, Context, Lacuna, Ancient Biblical Documents, Derash, Archetype, Juxtaposition)

Twice in this verse, each time with no apparent added value, the word ah, “brother,” appears: “Cain said to Abel his brother” is followed by “Cain arose over Abel his brother.” Surely, our grasp of events would lack nothing without this qualifier. Why, then, the text’s insistence on its inclusion?

In addressing this question, we note the ubiquity of this word not only in this verse but throughout the story: it appears no fewer than seven times between verses 1 and 11. A word repetition such as this is often referred to as a leitwort or “guiding word.” In the view of many scholars, this type of word repetition – so at odds with modern methods of varying the written word as much as possible – “guides” readers toward messages that are inherent to the text, waiting to be discovered.

In the story of Cain and Abel, it is not difficult to appreciate the text’s insistence on repeating the word ah, “brother.” With its subtle method of message delivery through word repetition, the text challenges us at every stage of the story to appreciate the full horror of the events being recorded. Cain’s ruthless act, heinous in its own right, is presented as exponentially more abhorrent considering the fact that he is raising his hand against his own brother. Beyond this, the cumulative effect of this word’s repetition is to emphasize the sibling connection shared by all human beings. It is not by chance that the Bible presents its first human beings in the form of a nuclear family and its first homicide as an act of fratricide. Perhaps we are meant to understand that in some very deep sense, all human beings are siblings, and, in essence, all murders are a form of fratricide. (Leitwort, Symbolism, Archetype)