Genesis 4:8 And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother… iety: — I. THE FIRST RECORDED ACT OF WORSHIP OCCASIONS THE FIRST MURDER. Is not that only too correct a forecast of the oceans of blood which have been shed in the name of religion, and a striking proof of the subtle power of sin to corrupt even the best, and out of it to make the worst? What a lesson against the bitter hatred which has too often sprung up on so-called religious grounds! II. SIN HERE APPEARS AS HAVING POWER TO BAR MEN'S WAY TO GOD. Much ingenuity has been spent on the question why Abel's offering was accepted and Cain's rejected. But the narrative itself shows in the words of Jehovah, "If thou doest well, is there not acceptance?" that the reason lay in Cain's evil deeds (See 1 John 3:12; Hebrews 11:4). Plenty of worship nowadays is Cain's worship. Many reputable professing Christians bring just such sacrifices. The prayers of such never reach higher than the church ceiling. III. Note in one word THAT WE HAVE HERE AT THE BEGINNING OF HUMAN HISTORY THE SOLEMN DISTINCTION WHICH RUNS THROUGH IT ALL. These two, so near in blood, so separate in spirit, head the two classes into which Scripture decisively parts men, especially men who have heard the gospel. IV. The solemn Divine voice reads the lesson of THE POWER OF SIN, WHEN ONCE DONE, OVER THE SINNER. Like a wild beast, it crouches in ambush at his door, ready to spring and devour. Or, by another metaphor, it hungers after him with a longing which is a horrible parody of the wife's love and desire (comp. Genesis 3:16 with Genesis 4:7). The evil deed once committed takes shape, as it were, and waits to seize the doer. Remorse, inward disturbance, and, above all, the fatal inclination to repeat sin till it becomes a habit, are set forth with terrible force in these grim figures. What a menagerie of ravenous beasts some of us have at the doors of our hearts! The eternal duty of resistance is farther taught by the words. Hope of victory, encouragement to struggle, the assurance that even these savage beasts may be subdued, and the lion and adder (the hidden and the glaring evils which wound unseen, and which spring with a roar), may be overcome, and led in a silken leash, are given in the command, which is also a promise, "Rule thou over it." V. THE DEADLY FRUIT OF HATE IS TAUGHT US IN THE BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE ACTUAL MURDER. Notice the impressive plainness and fewness of the words. "Cain rose up against his brother, and slew him." Observe the emphasis with which "his brother" is repeated in the verse and throughout. Observe, also, the vivid light thrown by the story on the rise and progress of the sin. It begins with envy and jealousy. Cain was not wroth because his offering was rejected. What did he care for that? But what angered him was that his brother had what he had not. So selfishness was at the bottom, and that led on to envy, and that to hatred. Then comes a pause, in which God speaks remonstrances, as God's voice — conscience — does now to us all, between the imagination and the act of evil. A real or a feigned reconciliation is effected. The brothers go in apparent harmony to the field. No new provocation appears, but the old feelings, kept down for a time, come in again with a rush, and the man is swept away. Hatred left to work means murder. VI. MARK HOW CLOSE ON THE HEELS OF SIN GOD'S QUESTION TREADS. How God spoke, we know not. Doubtless in some fashion suited to the needs of Cain. But He speaks to us as really as to him, and no sooner is the rush of passion over, and the bad deed done, than a revulsion comes. What we call conscience asks the question in stern tones, which make a man's flesh creep. Our sin is like touching the electric bells which people sometimes put on their windows to give notice of thieves. As soon as we step beyond the line of duty we set the alarm going, and it wakens the sleeping conscience. VII. CAIN'S DEFIANT ANSWER TEACHES US HOW A MAN HARDENS HIMSELF AGAINST GOD'S VOICE. It also shows us how intensely selfish all sin is, and how weakly foolish its excuses are. VIII. THE STERN SENTENCE IS NEXT PRONOUNCED. First we have the grand figure of the innocent blood having a voice which pierces the heavens. That teaches in the most forcible way the truth that God knows the crimes done by "man's inhumanity to man," even when the meek sufferers are silent. According to the fine old legend of the cranes of Ibycus, a bird of the air will carry the matter. It speaks, too, of His tender regard for His saints, whose blood is precious in His sight; and it teaches that He will surely requite. Then follows the sentence, which falls into two parts — the curse of bitter, unrequited toil, and the doom of homeless wandering. The blood which has been poured out on the battlefield fertilizes the soil; but Abel's blasted the earth. It was a supernatural infliction, to teach that bloodshed polluted the earth, and so to shed a nameless horror over the deed. We see an analogous feeling in the common belief that places where some foul sin has been committed are cursed. We see a weak natural correspondence in the devastating effect of war, as expressed in the old saying that no grass would grow where the Turk had stabled his horses. The doom of wandering, which would be compulsory by reason of the earth's barrenness, is a parable. The murderer is hunted from place to place, as the Greek fable has it, by the Furies, who suffer him not to rest. Conscience drives a man "through dry places, seeking rest, and finding none." All sin makes us homeless wanderers. Every sinner is a fugitive and a vagabond. But if we love God we are still wanderers, indeed, but we are "pilgrims and sojourners with Thee." IX. CAIN'S REMONSTRANCE COMPLETES THE TRAGIC PICTURE. We see in it despair without penitence. (A. Maclaren, D. D.) Parallel Verses KJV: And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him. |
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