Bereshit and the Courage of New Beginnings

Theodore Steinberg,, an Associate Editor of JBQ, lives in Jerusalem and delivers his Divrei Torah at the weekday morning minyan of Kehilat Moreshet Yisrael.

DARSHANUT

Darshanut, derived from the Hebrew root darash [explicate, expound], presents the expository, homiletic interpretation of the Bible. Its origins are as old as the most ancient aggadic and midrashic teachings and as new as the sermon or D’var Torah delivered on the most recent Shabbat. The intent is a challenge to relate the Bible to the problems, issues and goals of daily living.

We encourage our readers to contribute to Darshanut. The submission should be based on the Bible, no more than 750 words in length, and as relevant and current as you would like to make it. For more information on submissions, see the inside back cover.

BERESHIT AND THE COURAGE OF NEW

BEGINNINGS

Many families follow an old tradition of keeping a family Bible, with important events recorded in it: marriages, births, deaths, and so on, sometimes over several generations. In a sense, every Bible is a family Bible, for it tells the story of the human family and the Jewish family.

Genesis 4 relates the sad tale of Cain and Abel. They were the first children born on earth, to the first family, and were the first brothers. Their story is about the first murder and the first experience of death. We know little about them. Abel became a herdsman, and Cain a farmer. One day, the two brothers brought offerings to the Lord, but only Abel’s was accepted. The text does not tell us why. In any case, Cain was disappointed and hurt. Verse 4:8 states that Cain spoke with Abel, but we don’t know what they said to each other; only that immediately afterwards, Cain killed his brother.

God punished him by making him a fugitive and a wanderer. His body was marked with a sign to indicate that, despite his crime, he was, nevertheless, under God’s protection. Cain married, had a child whom he called Enoch, and founded a city, which he named after his son. The Torah briefly speaks

of the five generations, which proceeded from Cain. Then we do not hear of him or his descendants again. The whole story is told in just 23 verses. Elie Wiesel, a fine darshan, wrote that the theme of the Cain and Abel story is “responsibility.” If we study the story carefully it would seem that this is so. As in every biblical episode, one must read between the lines in order to understand it more fully. It seems reasonable to say that the two brothers were responsible for one another, but their relationship broke down. According to Wiesel, neither brother was entirely guilty, or entirely innocent. Each in his own way was indifferent to the other. Abel was not troubled by his brother’s unhappiness when Cain’s offering was not accepted. Perhaps he gloated and acted condescendingly towards Cain. And Cain, in turn, had no sense of gladness at his brother’s success.

After the murder, God asked Cain: Where is Abel your brother? Cain answered: I don’t know, am I my brother’s keeper?

There is a problem here. For one thing, Cain was telling a lie. By now, he must have known that he did something terrible to his brother. Also, it is fair to assume that he already knew that God knew. So why did he compound his wrongdoing and add the sin of lying to the crime of violence? Or perhaps this first child on earth did not yet know about sin, or that it is wrong to lie, or do violence to another person.

A midrash suggests another approach. If we adjust the punctuation of the verse, it reads a little differently: Cain’s response to God’s question is a tad less harsh: “I didn’t know that I was supposed to be my brother’s keeper.” The difference in the two translations is significant. In the first version, Cain was telling an outright lie. But in the changed reading, Cain was defending himself: “I didn’t know that I was responsible for my brother.” Cain was no longer saying to God that he did not know his brother’s whereabouts, but rather that he was not guilty. Now he knew, but it was all too late. Abel was dead, and death is absolute. The lesson is the same; we are responsible for one another.

Verse 4:15 brings up another thought: Va’ya’sem HaShem laKayin oth [God set a mark on Cain]. The phrase “the mark of Cain” sometimes appears in non-biblical usage, often in a work of literature or journalism. Usually, the implication is that a person, or even the whole human race, as a consequence of some terrible deed, is forever marked as was Cain. The implication may be

that the first child born on earth was not only a murderer, but an ancestor of humanity. His criminality is, therefore, embedded in the human genetic material, and may be passed on to his descendants .

But the Torah clearly rejects this view, and for this reason: After the Cain and Abel episode, Adam and Eve appear on the scene again, as husband and wife. And they did something very daring – they become parents for the third time. Eve bore a third son, whose name was Seth.

One might wonder how they arrived at the decision to have another child. The young world was already marked by violence and death. What is the good of having a child who is destined to die someday? Perhaps Adam and Eve wanted this third son out of concern and compassion for their future descendants. Were it not for Seth, every human being would necessarily be an heir of Cain, and only Cain, since his brother Abel had died childless. But with the birth of Seth, the Torah cuts humanity’s ties with the murderer, once and for all. The story of Cain comes to an end. His family dies out and his name is never mentioned again in the Bible.

Chapter 5 continues the story of the human race. Verses 1-3 begin with the words Zeh sefer toldot Adam [This is the history of Adam . . . he begot a son and called his name Seth]. There is no mention of Cain and Abel. Now, humankind descends from Seth, who neither knew nor had any relationship with his older brothers. Thus the final and perhaps primary lesson of this story is about Adam’s and Eve’s courage and daring. They began the human story. But when that story moved towards a sorry ending, they were willing to begin again, to make a fresh start.

This is a great lesson. It is easy to begin a project. It is harder to keep at it, especially when things do not go the way you want. But the most difficult thing of all – when your projects and hopes are crushed by chance or design – is to begin all over again. That takes great courage and faith. And that is the story of the children of Israel, especially in our own times. It is what Zionism and the Land of Israel are about: The will, courage and faith to make new beginnings.