"Hearing Abel Raising Cain"
By Rev. Dr. Scott Hoezee
Sunday, October 25, 2026
Reading: Genesis 4:1-16
Well good morning. It's good to be with you. as I said in the previous service, I'm Scott Jose and I'm from the United States and I'm sorry for everything, really.
But it's good to be back here. I was here some years ago, when Reverend Sterling was still here. so it's wonderful to be back this morning.
Bible stories. Many of us grew up with them. In Christian schools, Bible stories are taught, and especially with in the elementary gates, an emphasis on the stories themselves. Here at church, Bible stories are the bedrock foundation of Sunday school and worship centers. We retell these stories to our children so as to evoke wonder and curiosity in our little ones about these stories.
Those of us who are, or who have been parents, probably had at least one children's Bible in the house at one time or another. And maybe we use that for devotions at the dinner table in the evening. It's a good thing to do, introducing our children to the rhythms of Scripture, and we hope in ways that'll stick with them for all their lives.
But we should also hope that the day will come when they will be able to move on from those more simple narrative renderings of the average children's Bible to deeper and better appreciation of these tales. I mean, years ago, one of the children's Bibles we had for our kids tended to reduce even somewhat complicated and longer stories to no more than a half dozen very short and simple sentences. Here's what Genesis 4 boiled down to.
Adam and Eve had two sons. Their names were Cain and Abel. Abel obeyed God. Cain did not obey God. Cain was angry and killed Abel. This was wrong. Adam and Eve were sad. God was sad too.
Well, maybe that'll do for a very young child. But again, eventually we should hope they'll make some progress in deepening their appreciation for these narratives. These stories, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, actually have many layers to them. And so we have to resist the temptation to oversimplify them. I mean, for example, in that story I just read a moment ago from that Wolden Children's Bible, we were told flat out that Cain did not obey God.
One of the higher level children's Bibles we had at our home said that God didn't like Cain from the beginning because, quote, Cain was cold and proud and self-willed. But you know, we we retain those characterizations such that even as adults, we all but assume that Cain came out of Eve's womb already wearing a black baby bonnet, whereas Abel came out wearing a white one.
We also remember how most children's Bibles label this story as the first murder. And so we assume that Genesis 4 is in the Bible mostly just to show the spread of sin. And of course, there is some truth to all of that, but it is far from the whole truth.
As is true of so many Bible stories, so this morning, this is not just a story that happened once upon a time long ago and far away with other people. No, this is a story also for us. This is a story for today. And ultimately, this is a story that, if seen from the right angle, may shed a startling light on that central event in all of Christian scripture: the crucifixion of Jesus Christ on the cross.
But before we get ahead of ourselves, let's go back to the story and try to approach it in a reasonably fresh way. It begins straightforwardly enough, huh? Adam and Eve start a family. They have two sons. Cain, the older, grows up to be a farmer, and the younger lad, Abel, becomes a shepherd. It's probably 15, 20 years compressed just into that one verse. But notice that aside from their eventual occupations, we are told nothing.
About Cain and Abel. They seem like decent sons and hard workers. They also apparently are both somewhat religious, no doubt, on account of how mom and dad had raised them. And so they honor God by giving offerings, a sacrifice specific to each man's vocation. Each is said to have brought some of what his work had helped to produce. Cain brought some produce from his gardens, Abel brought some firstborn animals from his flocks.
So far, so good. Now, in the past, you've no doubt heard it suggested that a red flag gets raised here when you read that whereas Abel brought some of the firstborn from among his flocks, Cain is not said to have brought some from the first fruits of his garden. So maybe the difference is that Cain kept back the very best for himself, whereas Abel freely offered his very best.
And maybe that indicates a somewhat lukewarm spirituality on Cain's part over against the true blue piety of Abel. And that is a possibility. But if you just let Genesis 4 tell the story, there's wonder to reason about this easy scoring of Abel's piety over against Cain's more selfish nature. Because you know, we're only in Genesis 4.
So far in the Bible, there hasn't been any mention of the need to make sacrifices at all, much less all the rules and regulations that would come for Israel about firstborn and first fruits. I mean all those laws are hundreds, probably thousands and thousands of years off in the future yet.
Of course, since Genesis was written and read long after all those laws had been given, it is possible that the author here knew that his readers would know about all of those different stipulations, and so they'd notice that difference between the two offerings. But it's not glaringly obvious in the text. If you were reading this for the first time, without an awareness of the later regulations and stipulations that would govern sacrifices in Israel.
You'd be startled by verses four and five, and their sudden out-of-the-blue pronouncement that God liked Abel's offering, but not Cain's. Why? We're not told. But since we don't want God coming off as arbitrary or capricious, we try to track down a rationale for God's reaction to something that went awry with Cain's offering. But the text itself is not terribly helpful here.
Indeed, we're not told either exactly how it was that Cain knew about his non-acceptance over against Abel's being more favorably received. I mean, how did he know that? I mean, did God blow the smoke of his sacrifice back in his face or something? The text offers nary a clue. But Cain knew somehow, and it upset him. He was angry, but also kind of sad and depressed.
Why didn't God like his worship? It's not a bad question. I mean, after all, before this story is finished, Cain will become guilty of something very horrible. So horrible as to make whatever went wrong with his sacrifice look trivial and petty by comparison. But once Cain is a murderer, God takes steps to protect Cain, despite Cain's banishment to Nod.
If God found it possible to deal graciously with Cain after he'd become a murderer, why wasn't God more lenient with him when his only crime was maybe holding back the juiciest tomato for his own chopped salad instead of giving it to God? Again, we're not told.
What is obvious, however, is that God does like Cain at some basic level. God's words to Cain in verses 6 and 7 are not harsh, and they even demonstrate some genuine concern over Cain's well-being. Whatever else may be overall wrong with Cain's attitude, it is not so bad that Cain is helpless. God suggests that, you know, sin.
Knocking at the front door of his heart, but God says, you know, with some effort can can wrestle that temptation to the ground and not become the victim of it.
Did Cain ponder that? Did he try? We're not told because the text wastes no time in having Cain haul Abel out into a field where the deadly deed is done.
Have you ever noticed that Abel never speaks in the Bible? He never says a word. At least not until his blood cries out from the ground. The only words of Abel are the cries of the innocent victim of violence and abuse. And it is this cry that rings deafeningly in God's ears. Cain cannot get away with this crime. God even says to him in verse 10 listen.
Don't you hear your brother's blood crying out from the ground? Apparently Cain did not. Neither do we most of the time.
But if our loving and almighty God really does hear the blood of innocent victims crying out from the soil of this earth, then the roar of noise in God's head must be deafeningly loud every day. Because Cain's crime goes on and on. So does its punishment. Like a farmer who sows poison into the soil of his fields, so now for Cain and shedding his brother's blood onto the ground, now nothing will grow for him.
Cain the farmer is literally uprooted from the ground. Nothing will grow now. Cain is now consigned to be a restless wanderer on the earth. He won't be able to sink down roots anywhere anymore, but he moves to the land of Nod, to Nod, which is Hebrew for wanderland.
Cain senses that to live east of Eden and so banished from God's presence w would make him a candidate for for murder himself. It's an irony you can still see sometimes today, right? Even murderers who have so little disregard for other life, sure are plenty invested in keeping their own life going. Thank you very much.
Cain, who killed his brother, begs God not to let the same fate come to him. And you half expect God to say, tough buddy, you chose death, so now you've got to take your chances in facing the specter of your own death.
But no. As was the case in the previous chapter when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, so also here, humanity keeps choosing death, and God keeps choosing life. God knows that these cycles of violence must be snapped. And so rather than let Cain suffer Abel's fate, God somehow marks Cain in a way that will ensure the continuation of his life. It was bad enough.
That Abel's blood was screaming into the divine ears, God could not bear to let Cain's blood scream one day too. And so God chooses life in the face of death. He raises Cain up, He resurrects him to a new life, albeit a restless life for now.
And somehow through it all, God seems to love Cain. Who knows why? Doesn't seem real lovable. But in the mystery of grace, God is able to reach out to save Cain at the very moment when the blood of Abel is still screaming. And if you are able to hold those two images in tension, then you are approaching the mystery of the gospel.
You know, every children's Bible I've ever looked at shows some picture of Cain womping Abel over the head with a rock or a stick or something. It's terrible. But that's not the image Genesis 4 leaves you with. Instead, you see on one side a pool of Abel's blood crying and screaming into God's ears. It pans God to hear it. He almost has his hands cupped over his ears. And yet at that same moment, God is bending down to kiss the forehead of Cain, marking him for life.
Screaming blood and kissing lips, justified punishment and gracious preservation, Cain's bloody hands and the mark of God's preservation on his forehead, the images collide and bewilder. Why does God keep insisting on life? Why doesn't the blood of Abel get the last word? Why? Because only God can have the last word, and that last word is life.
You know, despite the fame of this story, the rest of the Bible makes virtually no reference to it at all. The single exception comes in Hebrews 12. As is typical of the whole book of Hebrews, the author in chapter 12 says that the presence of Jesus has now changed everything. And so, for instance, we don't need to worry that in coming before God, we're coming before some dreadful dictator who should terrify us.
Because now the author says in Hebrews 12:24, now we come to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. We come to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. The blood of Jesus has something to say too.
Apparently, the shed blood of the innocent always has something to say. Abel's blood cried out to God in screams of horror, injustice, violence, and death. Jesus' blood cried out too, but it speaks a better word. And what is that better word? Grace, life, resurrection. God didn't let anyone shed Cain's blood because these cycles of violence and death must stop. God insisted on life even for Cain.
There wasn't enough in history for God to keep stepping into one situation at a time. Something needed to be done to save the whole creation, and that something was found in the sacrifice of God's own son. Here was the final and ultimate innocent victim whose blood was shed unjustly. But because he was God's son, he could also rise back up to speak a better final word.
Jesus' blood does not scream, it sings. It does not cry, it croons. It does not darken it into a pool of death, but wells up to a fountain of life.
The blood of Abel cried out this creation's infatuation with death. The blood of Jesus speaks the better word of God's infatuation with life. And the wonder of God's insistence on life for this creation is that in the end, Jesus took Abel's place, but he took Cain's place too.
Jesus stood in for and became a representative of every victim of sin, but of every perpetrator of sin too. While we were yet sinners, the New Testament says, God loved us and saved us.
There are those paradoxical images again, huh? In the background is Abel's blood screaming, and in the foreground is God bending down to kiss the forehead of the murderer. In the background is the cross of Jesus, sorrow and love flowing mingled down in his precious shed blood. And in the foreground, a tomb cracked wide open, and a risen Christ Jesus with another love, grace, and now also resurrection power to forgive those who also crucified him.
Of course, for now the blood of the innocent keeps getting shed. The cries from the blood-soaked soil in my country, after mass shootings in Ivolde and in Newtown, in Pittsburgh, the blood-soaked soil in Ukraine, the blood-soaked soil in Sudan, the blood-soaked soil in Israel and Gaza and Iran and Lebanon, all of it must send God reeling.
It is no wonder that the one who shed blood at last spoke a better word of life, looked at our wandering human race, to all of us living east of Eden in the land of Nod, and he said, Come unto me, you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Cain set our human race to wandering, unable to sink down roots into the soil we sullied. But Christ came to reconcile all of us to one another through his shed blood.
One my all-time favorite movies is Robert Benton's lyric 1984 film Places in the Heart, starring Sally Field. Set in Texas in the 1930s, the movie portrays Edna Spaulding, who is suddenly widowed in the film's opening scene when a drunk young black boy named Wiley accidentally shoots Edna's husband, who is also the town sheriff. Wiley accidentally shoots him through the heart, and the sheriff is dead.
The white townsfolk quickly grab Wiley and they lynch him. Wiley is dead. And meanwhile, Edna is left with a load of debt thick enough to choke a horse and two very small children to raise on her own. Well, eventually, Edna meets Mose, a black migrant farmer who knows how to raise cotton and is hired by Edna to make enough money to save her farm from foreclosure.
The hands of the town's local but very heartless banker. And it works. Edna makes enough money to save her farm.
But the white townsfolk are not happy that Mose is around, and so dressed up in their Ku Klux Klan outfits, they come to the farm one night, beat Mose mercilessly, and force him to flee. And as Edna watches Mose leave, and as the question hangs in the air whether she'll be able to make enough money next year without Moses' help, as that hangs in the air, it looks like the movie's over. But it's not. There's one last scene. It's in church. It's Sunday morning.
The minister preaches a sermon on 1 Corinthians 13, and then they serve communion on the trays of the blood, the bread, and the wine. And this is where the film becomes deeply surreal, but also deeply, deeply theological. Because, first of all, we as people watching the film see in earlier shots of the congregation, the church was at best half full, except now it's packed.
And what's more to the startlement of us viewers, we see the bread and the wine being taken by a woman who had died in a tornado earlier in the film.
The town prostitute is there too, seated next to the banker who had been so unfeeling in the face of Edna's fears of foreclosure. We see some people there that we suspect might be in the KKK, but they then pass the trays of bread and wine to Mose, the black man who is suddenly seated with Edna and her family. Finally, Edna takes the bread and the wine, and then she then passes it to her husband, who was seated next to her.
And next to him, Wiley, the black boy who had shot the sheriff and been killed himself as a result. And as the sheriff and Wiley take the bread and drink the wine, they look at each other and they say, The peace of God.
It is a vignette of the kingdom of God. The sheriff and wily, the victim and the perpetrator, Cain and Abel. And by the and by the better word spoken by Christ shed blood, they can say to each other, the peace of God.
Jesus grants us rest and a settled place to sink down roots into his love and grace. Cain brought us to Nod, Jesus brings us home. Abel's blood spoke of death and injustice. Jesus' blood speaks the better word of life and grace.
Common parlance raising Cain means wreaking havoc and creating chaos. In biblical parlance, raising Cain means creating shalom and granting rest. Blessed are those who can hear in Christ the better word that reconciles Abel, Cain, and us all. Amen.