A common critique of biblical narrative is that it is primitive, simplistic literature. Most stories are bare bones, providing limited details to the reader. We don’t see many descriptor words, the plot patterns come across as basic, and many details about the purposes behind the plot just don’t exist. We are accustomed to our stories containing more verbosities, intricate plots with twists, and an inside track on the inner monologue of primary characters. We may see the difference in style as we would see the difference in language development. It’s easy to think of the origin of the Bible, passed down orally for countless centuries, coming from the earliest humans just beginning to form language skills, families gathered around a fire and listening to the guttural performance of the storyteller. So the argument may go, the reason they are so simplistic is because they started amongst people who had no education, could communicate at only an elementary level, and had no realistic perception as to how the world functions, thus forcing them to come up with contrived explanatory fairy tales.
On initial read, I think most of us would honestly come to that conclusion. We read this through eyes trained in our modern sensibilities in what good literature is. We read something that is written in a foreign style to us and make assumptions about it. That is natural. We have expectations on what the Bible should tell us, and we read it looking for answers that specifically fulfill those expectations.
In order to understand what the Bible is trying to tell us, we have to leave our own predispositions at the door and let it say what it is trying to say to us on its terms. Because parts are written in a style unfamiliar to us does not make it inferior to our standard of communication. We like to have stories told in great detail, in setting, characters, and plot. If a specific part is left out, it may leave us feeling disappointed, even frustrated with the work. I remember this attitude being pervasive in me in grade school. When stories appear incomplete by intention, it forces the reader to do some of the work of interpretation, which I didn’t like academically. I much preferred the story to do all the work for me and I just absorb. The Bible does not work this way. It expects a lot out of the reader if she/he wants to get the most out of it. Many scholars think the Bible is quite complex in its structure based on this fact, that so much is left out that if forces the reader to ponder and reflect on what the meaning(s) of the writing could be. So much is left out that room is often left for multiple interpretations concerning the point of a story. That seems a more realistic motive of the ancients, to talk about things so nebulous and hard to pinpoint down that the best way to talk about them is in similarly nebulous terms that allow for multiple angles of reflection.
A common example of this type of narration is the story of Cain and Abel. We aren’t given much background about either of these characters, except they both came from Eve, and they both had vocations as a gardener and a shepherd respectively (when there is a detail given, it likely is very important to the underlying theme). We are told each of them presented an offering to God out of the productivity of his vocation. One is accepted, the other isn’t, with no explanation as to why. The rejected one becomes angry, is warned that sin is waiting to overcome him, and is told to rule over sin. He doesn’t and kills his brother, then lies about it, and subsequently is banished from the earth’s strength. Yet he still receives compassion and care from the creator by a promise of protection from harm as he is cast out.
This story follows a repeated theme in Genesis in which humans are given a unique place in creation. They choose their own version of wisdom and what is “good in their eyes”, and by acting on it they bring upon themselves banishment and chaos. It happened in Eden, it is happening again in the Cain and Abel narrative, and it will happen again in the flood and throughout the line of Abraham, all of which results in bad consequences for those self-dooming choices. All of these can be traced back to the original creation account of choosing the Tree of Good and Evil over the Tree of Life, choosing humans’ perception of wisdom over the divine, and instead of bring out true human capability in relation to God, there is decomposition of human nature toward that of beasts (i.e. God clothing Adam and Eve in animal hides after the Fall).
There are many ideas as to why Abel’s offering was acceptable and Cain’s was not. The text specifically says that Abel took the first-born from his flocks that were fat, or otherwise to be interpreted as the best he had. The same is not explicitly stated about Cain’s offering: that he took the best fruits that he had, though it doesn’t say he didn’t either. Along these lines, several believe that Abel’s nephesh was in a humbler, more worshipful place than Cain’s. Many believe the animal blood that Abel brought as an offering holds the key to acceptance by God, that he desired Life Blood that had to come from an animal being.
As there are multiple ways to think about the reason behind this verdict, all of which deserve a turn of contemplation, I think another would be the nature of what each was bringing to offer. Cain was a gardener who from the ground grew plants that God intended to be food for humanity. Abel cared for animals, for which God provided a place in the world. If God created the plants to be humanity’s food in Genesis 1, why would he want that gift back from us? Wasn’t it meant for our consumption for living and thriving in the world? Could this be interpreted as humanity rejecting the gift of life as God intended it for us? We see plenty of examples in the Bible, and in our lives, of people giving back part of what God gives them, whether it be a first-born son, our money or time. And we usually look upon such actions with approval. Again, similar plots repeat themselves over and over in Genesis. If we see Genesis 4 as a rerun of the Eden saga, in which the first command God gives humans is to “eat from any tree in the garden” (Gen 2:16), Cain’s action could be construed as rejecting that command by discarding some of the fruit from the earth as inferior for his consumption.
So if all Cain had to offer was produce from his garden, what could he have done to show gratitude? One idea is that Abel could have provided a beast to God on Cain’s behalf. As a human, Abel was also part of the race for which the garden was created to be nourishment. There is no statement that his flocks were used as food; we may suspect they were food, or perhaps their wool was simply used to make garments for humans, which they needed in order to hide their innermost selves as Adam and Eve did once they saw they were naked. If Cain grew plants for human consumption, for both him and his brother, while Abel provided an offering to God on Cain’s behalf, this would be the first example of communal life in the Bible (which we shall see Cain formally fathers later through his offspring).
If our ultimate Genesis vocation as humans is to rule and subdue the earth, to make what God has already created into something more beautiful and ordered than what we found, wouldn’t coming together as communities be more effective in carrying out that endeavor? I think we would all say that is the case. Each of us has different gifts to contribute to the lives of our families and neighbors, and the sum of these talents is exponentially greater than each individual one alone. That was part of the flourishing of civilization: the ability to specialize in different activities once our survival as a species was secured in a food source. In the Genesis 4 story, each brother appears to approach God on his own, bringing what he individually has rather than coming together to ensure the desires and needs for both man and God are addressed. Perhaps Abel is not absolved in the events following the offerings. In the end, brought about by Cain’s choices, we see the result of this arrangement of isolated brothers: the death of one and the banishment of the other.
I have never heard this angle of explanation from this story. Again, the lack of details in Biblical narrative are meant to create work for the listener/reader to ponder, meditate, and help fill in the blanks of what the narrator is trying to get across. One may think this is a stretch of what the text is trying to tell us. If we believe the Bible is more sophisticated than we can imagine, and an all-encompassing truth to explain our situation here, we should be open to various meanings from different points of view. In light of the previous poems from the first three chapters of Genesis, I think this interpretation has value in our past, present, and future social context.