God’s Displeasure with Cain

Many of us know the Genesis 4 story of Cain and Abel from Sunday school.  The two sons of Adam and Eve bring forth offerings for the Lord.  Cain, the elder, is a farmer.  He brings the first fruits of his harvest.  Abel is a shepherd.  He brings the first of his flock.

And we know how the story goes from there.  God is displeased with Cain’s offering, but accepts the sacrifice of Abel.  Cain, jealous of his brother, kills him and becomes the first murderer.

It’s a simple and tragic story.  But there’s something going on beneath the surface.  Something that we likely did not get in Sunday school, at least in relation to this story.

For the question remains: why did God not accept the offering of Cain?  When Cain is jealous, what does God mean when he admonishes him with the words: “If you do well, will you not be accepted?” So what was the problem?  What did Cain do that was not “well”?  We aren’t even really told how God indicated that he accepted one offering and not the other.

At least when I was a child, we were told that Cain’s heart was not right when he made his sacrifice, and so God was not pleased.  And this is certainly the case.  God makes clear in many places that he desires the obedience of the heart, and not only outward sacrifice.

However, there is something more fundamentally wrong with Cain: while Abel brought blood atonement, Cain brought a grain offering.  He should have known that blood was required to atone for sin before harvest could be brought in thanksgiving.  Hebrews 9:22 tells us that “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.”

But this is before the law, is it not?  That is, the Mosaic Torah, with it’s Levitical system.  So it is.  But God sets the example of sacrifice for Adam and Eve from the beginning with he sheds the blood of animals to clothe them.  All are in sin.  All require the shedding of blood.  Whether God then gave them specifics of what and how to sacrifice, we aren’t told.

He didn’t have to.  The pattern was set.  Abel understood this, and so brought a spotless lamb as sacrifice, prefiguring Christ.  Cain also should have known.  He did know, and so God exhorted him to “do well.”  But Cain’s rebellious pride was too great.  And so the blood he shed, instead of atoning for sin, cried out from the ground to accuse him.

And so we must find ourselves in Christ, covered by His blood, if we hope for the atonement of our sin.

But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.
Hebrews 12:22-24

For if we are found in the blood of the Lamb as Abel was, then the blood that covers us atones for our sin, and does not cry out from the ground to accuse us, as it did for Cain.

Perishing Apart from the Law

This is actually an observation that I had when I was writing a paper on Romans 5:12-21  a few years ago.  I’ll start by laying out the two verses I want to look at here:

. . . for sin indeed was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not counted (imputed) where there is no law. Yet death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sinning was not like the transgression of Adam . . .
Romans 5:13-14

I think sometimes people just pass over these verses without really thinking about them and trying to understand what Paul is really saying here.  I know I did before writing that paper.  After all, as a Reformed Christian, I would skim over Romans 5 and think, “Oh yeah.  Imputation of Adam’s sin.  I know that.”  And then move swiftly along.

When I took up that section for my exegetical study, I thought I knew exactly what I was going to find.  What a surprise I had!  I might write later posts about some of the other things I discovered in that study, but I’ll just concentrate on verses 13 and 14 here.

First, I think it is clear that Paul is speaking here specifically to Gentile believers.  That is not to say that the text has no relevance to the Jews, but he is clearly zeroing in on a state where one is not “under the law.”  He has made this distinction before in Romans, and he maintains it now for the sake of the Gentile who might say “But what has the Torah to do with me?  Why does God yet condemn?”

In answer to this, Paul makes clear that sin was in the world even “before the Law was given”—that is, in the period of time between Adam to Moses—and that this sin was enough to condemn, even apart from the Law.  However, Paul also make clear that there is a qualitative difference between the sin of Adam and the sin of those between Adam and Moses.

This brings to mind Romans 2:12, where Paul tells his readers that all are under condemnation.  Those who sin apart from the Law will perish even without it.  Those who sin under it will be judged by it.  Note that it is possible to sin apart from the Law; this is a clear reference to Gentiles and Jews.

Here’s the real kicker though, and the part that really challenged me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about Romans 5.  Sin, Paul tells us, was in the world “before the law was given,” but is not “imputed” apart from the Law.  From Adam to Moses was the period “before the law was given.”  So if we give the text its due, we must conclude that sin was not imputed to sinners from Adam to Moses.

Now, if we take the text to mean what it says, we must either rethink our traditional systematic definition of the theological term “impute,” or we must adopt a weird interpretation that says that those between Adam and Moses did not receive condemnation of Adam’s sin.

If we take the context into account, then we must also recognize that Paul is likening his Gentile readers to those “before the Law was given.”

I will not attempt to define “imputation” in this post.  I’ll save that for later.  I just wanted to encourage everyone to take another look at Romans 5 here.  Because how we read it has broad-sweeping implications for how we read the rest of the book.  Romans 7, for instance, where Paul says (whether of himself or of another is another related discussion), “I was once alive apart from the Law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died.”

” . . . apart from the Law. . . .”  Hmmm . . . we’ve heard Paul use that kind of language before, haven’t we?

The Dove and the New Creation

First, thanks to Jason Stewart for piquing my interest to look into this and give it some thought during the week.  Tomorrow is the Baptism of Our Lord, the first Sunday after Epiphany, so this is appropriate.  And now to our text:

And when Jesus was baptized, immediately he went up from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on him . . .
~Matthew 3:16

So the question is, why a dove?  What significance does it have?  Jason briefly mentioned in his sermon last week that it has been said that the Jews associated the dove with the Holy Spirit.  If so, then how would they have known to do this?  I think the question can be answered by looking back to two Genesis passages.

First, the most obvious:

Then he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters had subsided from the face of the ground.  But the dove found no place to set her foot, and she returned to him to the ark, for the waters were still on the face of the whole earth. So he put out his hand and took her and brought her into the ark with him.
~Genesis 8:8-9

Noah releases a dove after the flood that covers the face of the earth to see if the waters have subsided.  The dove flies from the ark and hovers over the face of the waters, and finds no resting place.  Three times he releases the dove, before the waters subside.

Of itself, this may not bring to us thoughts of the Holy Spirit.  But I believe the story of the dove is a clear allusion to an earlier event in Genesis:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.
~Genesis 1:1-2

At the creation of the heavens and the earth the Spirit also hovers over the face of the waters.  In the Noahic flood God remakes the world.  It is a type of the new creation.  When we read Genesis we should see this and associate the hovering of the dove over the water with the hovering of the Spirit in the opening phrases of the Bible.

And when Jesus comes out of the water and the dove descends on him, this also should bring Genesis to mind.  The dove is again hovering over the face of the water at the beginning of a new creation.  The ultimate New Creation is before us, as God purposes to remake Heaven and Earth through his Son, Jesus.

By baptism we identify with Christ, even as he identified with us, and so enter that New Creation.


Jesus is the Bread of Life: Lukan Bookends

We are into the third week of Advent, with Christmas less than a couple weeks off.  So I wanted to take a brief look at the Gospel of Luke, and particularly at Luke’s theme of Jesus as the Bread of Life.

Luke never actually calls Jesus “the bread of life”—that title comes from John’s Gospel.  But the theme of Jesus and His relationship and identification with bread runs deep through Luke’s account, with stories like the feeding of the five thousand, the comparing of the kingdom to leaven, etc.  In fact, the Gospel of Luke is bookended by stories that relate to bread.

At the end of Luke’s gospel we have the story of Jesus meeting the disciples on the road to Emmaus.  The crucifixion has taken place just a couple days prior, and two disciples are returning home from Jerusalem, somber for the events of the past week.  Jesus meets them on the road and expounds the entire Scripture to them and how the witness of the prophets made it plain that the Messiah must die and rise again on the third day.

Even so, they don’t really get it until Jesus administers to them the first Eucharist after the institution at the Last Supper.  He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them.  That’s when their eyes are opened.  Jesus is here!  He is present with us now in the breaking of bread. It is the first anamnesis, and the disciples immediately recall what is meant by this ritual action.  Apart from the berakah, there are no words spoken by Jesus here.  It is the action itself that is the memorial—that reveals Christ to them and makes present the moment when he first took bread and said “This is my body, which is given for you.”

By now, Jesus has vanished, but his disciples have gotten the point.  So they do exactly the same thing that we are commissioned to do after every observance of the Supper—they return to Jerusalem, proclaiming the good news of Christ’s resurrection:

Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.
~Luke 24:35

In the same way, Jesus is known to us also in the breaking of bread.  It is Luke’s final lesson to us (until we get to Acts, where there is much more breaking of bread).

But back to our Christmas theme.  The story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus is the climax of Luke’s gospel.  It’s the realization of what he foreshadowed at the beginning of his account.

It is not insignificant for Luke that Jesus is born in a town called Bethlehem—the house of bread.  Matthew also records that Jesus is born in Bethlehem, but he is more focused on how the birth in Bethlehem fulfills the Old Testament prophets, and makes less of the name itself.

Luke, on the other hand, leaves aside the prophets for a moment to set out for us the scene of Jesus’ birth.  He first gives an extended account of what brought Mary and Joseph to this remote town, and then, in case we missed the significance of the town’s name, he includes the detail of Mary laying Jesus in a feeding trough (Luke 2:7).  The point is repeated and emphasized when the angels proclaim the good news to the shepherds.  “This will be a sign for you: you’ll find a baby . . . lying in a feeding trough” (verse 12).  Wait . . . that’s a sign?  A sign of what?  Again a third time, in case our wits are slow, Luke tells us: “They went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a feeding trough” (verse 16).

In Bethlehem.  In the house of bread.

So.  Have we got it yet?

Sources and additional reading:

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And They Danced

Your muse to my muse did beckon: come with me!
Let us dance a dance of friends. And yet our hearts
and hands but barely touched—we poised to flee
this timid waltz that moves in fits and starts.
Watching as you watch, your eyes betraying nothing,
but a glance, a glimmer, the briefest sparkles of twilight
that catch and flare beneath dark lashes, sweeping
‘cross graceful cheeks, sharp in my breast ignite
embers smoldering low, long scarcely warm.
I thought my heart had broken, but this rift
was a chamber shaped to fit your spirit’s form;
one step, contra step, and close at last we’ll drift,
fearful of rising hope as arms embrace
life offered anew, and yesterday’s erase.