Torah - God Confronts Cain After the Murder - Sheet 9

In the aftermath of the murder, God confronts Cain, using language that is meant to encourage introspection and remorse. But, continuing a pattern that began in the chapter’s first section, Cain rebuffs God’s efforts, choosing instead to indulge in feelings of self-righteousness and personal insult and to direct all blame outside of himself.

God’s words pose an obvious theological difficulty. The Bible thus far has introduced only four human beings on earth. Yet now God, who is assumed to be omniscient, appears to require help in locating one of them. Rashi resolves the difficulty by interpreting God’s words in a figurative, and rhetorical, manner. God’s true intent is to open a non-threatening channel of communication with Cain, through which he might feel sufficiently safe to confess, and ultimately to repent. Viewed this way, the plain sense of God’s words is not “Where is Abel?” but rather, “Cain, you may talk to Me. Tell Me what you have done.”

Support for this reading may be adduced from the text’s choice of the interrogative word ei – short for ayyey – instead of the more common word for “where,” which is eifo. As Nehama Leibowitz has taught, eifo is used when simple information is requested, whereas ayyey introduces a rhetorical question, which may also carry a non-literal intent. The Bible’s first ayyey helps make the point. In addressing Adam after he has eaten from the forbidden fruit, God’s question is ayyekah. Although literally this word means “Where are you?” it is clear from the context that this is not God’s intent. God’s true aim is to prompt Adam to question his moral and spiritual bearings, to engage in genuine soul-searching as to what has become of him in God’s world. Similarly, in posing an ayyey question to Cain, it is highly improbable that God is asking for Abel’s physical whereabouts. God’s true call is for Cain to search deep within himself, to experience sincere contrition, and to confess.

God’s rhetorical question is meant as a courtesy, an opportunity for Cain to begin atoning for his horrific act. But Cain spurns God’s gesture – employing a rhetorical question of his own. (Theology, Rhetorical Questions, Figurative Readings, Syntax, Semantics)

Cain’s initial response – that he has no knowledge of Abel’s whereabouts – is an outright lie expressed in declarative form. Next, in a show of escalating brazenness, Cain appropriates God’s style of rhetorical questioning in order to add a sting to his denial. With his words “am I my brother’s keeper?” Cain appears to deride God’s very suggestion that he carries any responsibility for his brother’s whereabouts, or, Cain implies, for Abel’s safety and wellbeing.

Arguably, with his rhetorical question, Cain intends even more insolence. Not only does he mimic God’s rhetorical style; he goes so far as to mock God’s very functioning in the world. If God cannot find Abel, Cain intimates, perhaps God has been derelict in keeping watch over humanity at large. Read this way, Cain’s intended inflection is: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” which implies that by right, safeguarding Abel falls within the purview of the Divine. Hence, if anyone is to blame for Abel’s absence, it is none other than God.

It is possible that deep within himself Cain justifies his deceptive and presumptuous words. In his mind, God’s differential treatment of the two brothers was the catalyst behind all events that followed; hence, Abel’s disappearance is in some sense God’s fault. Had God acted more fairly, he muses, Abel would have had all the protection he needed. Consequently, he would now be alive and well and easy to locate. (Figurative Readings, Structure, Inflection, Rhetorical Questions, Character Analysis)

God’s rhetorical question in verse 9, meant as a courtesy, utterly fails to elicit Cain’s contrition. As a result, God now speaks literally and directly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. With the words “What have you done?” God spells out the question that was meant all along. God then dispels Cain’s false assertion that Abel’s whereabouts are unknown. In fact, God reveals the location of Abel’s blood-soaked body, which is buried in the earth. (Hypophora)

Curiously, the word for “blood” appears in the plural form: demei ahikha literally means “your brother’s bloods.” Rashi offers two possible interpretations for this anomaly, one literal and the other figurative. In the literal sense, the plural demei, “bloods,” evokes the copious amounts of blood that were discharged in the murder. Read this way, we are compelled to consider the physically revolting, monstrous mess that accompanies this, and virtually every, act of murder.

In the figurative sense, says Rashi, the plural demei refers to the bloodline of the victim. This reading directs our focus beyond the individual murder victim, Abel, and toward all future generations that would have stemmed from him. This figurative reading views murder as a perpetually recurring tragedy, with its horrific ripples continuing throughout eternity.

Whether one adopts a literal or figurative interpretation of the plural demei, the unusual construction has the power to jar readers into engaging more fully with the very idea of murder. Whichever way we choose to understand the word, it induces us to consider the far-reaching realities and ramifications of this most abhorrent act. (Syntax, Figurative Readings)

Even more difficult than the unusual use of the plural in this verse is the apparent grammatical mismatch between the singular subject kol, “voice,” and the plural verb tzo’akim, “[they] are crying.” Ibn Ezra resolves the difficulty by detaching the word kol from the rest of the verse so that the plural demei becomes the subject of the verse. Viewed this way, all reads smoothly: “your brother’s bloods (plural) cry out (plural) to Me from the ground.” But what are we to do with the word kol, with which the verse opens? Surely, we do not have license to excise it from the verse in order to achieve grammatical harmony.

In Ibn Ezra’s view, the word kol is meant to stand alone, as a crucial tone-setting introduction to God’s words. The intended inflection of this word is not a simple declaration, but a dramatic exclamation: “A voice!” Read this way, God does not merely confront Cain about his wrongdoing; God beckons Cain to give ear to the unremitting, agonized howl of Abel’s blood, surging from the depths of the earth.

In addition to highlighting God’s theatrical flourish, Ibn Ezra’s comments hint at an enduring truth about the nature of spilled blood. Beginning with Abel and continuing throughout human history, and despite the best attempts of murderers and despots to hide all evidence of the crimes they have committed, the blood of the dead has a tenacious capacity to make itself heard. God’s challenge to Cain – and by extension, to the reader – to hear the actual sound of Abel’s blood conveys a message about the abiding, thunderous voice of those who have been murdered. The dead – whether individuals or those buried in mass graves, whether recently mourned or long forgotten – will refuse to stay silent until the truth is revealed and the perpetrators exposed. (Grammar, Inflection, Symbolism, Structure, Archetype)