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First Murder

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The story of the first murder found in Genesis 4:1-16 has got to be one of the oddest murder stories in history. Here’s a quick recap in case you’ve forgotten it.

Cain and Abel were the two oldest boys born to Eve after she and Adam were expelled from the Garden of Eden. Cain grew up to become a farmer, and Abel grew up to become a herdsman. Cain brought produce from his farm and presented it to the Lord. Likewise, Abel also brought animals from his herds and presented them to the Lord. The Lord looked with favor upon the offerings Abel brought but not on the offerings Cain brought. Because of this, Cain grew angry and frowned. God said to Cain, “Why are you angry and frowning? If you do what is right, won’t you be accepted? But if not, sin is crouching at the door. It desires to have you, but you must rule over it.”

Then Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let’s go out into the field.” Once they were in the field, Cain attacked Abel and killed him.

The Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”

Cain replied, “I don’t know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”

The Lord said, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you work the ground, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth.”

Cain said to the Lord, “My punishment is more than I can bear. Today you are driving me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth, and whoever finds me will kill me.”

But the Lord said to him, “Not so; anyone who kills Cain will suffer vengeance seven times over.” Then the Lord put a mark on Cain so that no one who found him would kill him. So Cain went out from the Lord’s presence and lived in the land of Wandering, east of Eden.

Let’s start with Cain’s motive for murder. It appears to be jealousy or envy of his brother. Yet it is not envy of his brother’s success or of a woman they both love. No, it is envy of God’s favor. Cain resents the fact that God accepted Abel, but didn’t accept him. Of course, the story is sparse. We know nothing of their possible sibling rivalry, nothing of the resentment Cain may have felt at seeing a younger brother preferred over the first born. We don’t know how God showed his favor, whether he appeared as a man as he sometimes does in Genesis, or whether his favor took the form of blessings on Abel’s endeavors. The events related could refer to a single instance or to an ongoing pattern of preferential treatment for Abel. What we do know is that God places responsibility for this state of affairs squarely on Cain himself: “If you do what is right, won’t you be accepted?” Both brought offerings to the Lord, but Cain’s was rejected because he was not doing right.

God also warns Cain that if he continues going his own way, then his life is in danger from a croucher at the entryway to sin. God tells Cain he must subdue or master the croucher. The language recalls God’s words to Eve when he pronounced punishment for eating the forbidden fruit. “Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.” Like Adam and Eve, Cain goes on to sin despite God’s warnings. When God pronounces judgment on him, though he bemoans his fate, he does not repent.

Later on when God provides civic laws for the Israelites to follow, he institutes the death penalty for murder (cf. Numbers 35: 16-21). Clearly, if God were determined to be just and teach the new human race a lesson in justice, he would have put Cain to death. Instead he sentences him to banishment. Cain complains that once his crime is known, anyone who finds him may kill him. Instead of saying, “Too bad. That’s what you deserve,” God does something extraordinary. He puts a mark on Cain to prevent anyone from killing him. The mark of Cain, far from being a sign of sin’s shame and God’s displeasure, is a sign of God’s grace and protection. God goes even further, threatening a sevenfold vengeance on anyone who dares kill Cain. Consider, therefore, the amazing mercy God shows toward the first murderer before insisting that God favors the death penalty for murder.

In both Genesis 3 and 4, though God threatens those who sin with death, the actual punishment is banishment from his presence. Life is in the presence of God, and death is exclusion from his presence.

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Implausible Murder

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I’ve become a fan of NCIS. I watch an episode almost every night. I like it. (I’m currently on season 7, so don’t worry about reading any spoilers for a recent episode.) Every once in a while, however, they come up with a plot that is so full of holes, it should never have seen airtime.

Case in point, this episode, called Code of Conduct. At the end the episode it is revealed that the murder was committed by the victim’s step-daughter, a short, teen-aged girl. She planned the murder and intended to frame her step-mother. She bought duct tape and a garden hose using her step-mother’s credit card and used those items in a somewhat clumsy attempt to make the murder look like a suicide. All of that is fine as far as it goes, but there are lots of details that do not make sense.

If you are going to take the trouble to deliberately murder someone, you certainly aren’t going to leave anything to chance. Along with your planning and preparation—making sure you have an alibi, throwing suspicion on someone else—you certainly will not neglect to use a method that will guarantee your victim ends up dead.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing but admiration for the writers of crime dramas tasked with coming up with ever more innovative, even bizarre, ways of divorcing souls from bodies. Nevertheless, I can’t help thinking that one crucial criterion for a planned murder is this: Is the plan certain to succeed? Does it depend too much on chance?

In this episode we are asked to believe that this girl was smart enough to make a plan to make her step-father’s death look like a suicide. She bought the necessary supplies. Yet the means she actually used to kill him was to bring him a thermos of liquid nitrogen, telling him it was coffee. She apparently gave no thought to the possibility that he would pour it into a cup before drinking it or that he would simply look at it and wonder why it didn’t look like coffee or that he might take a tentative sip (thinking it was hot) instead of taking a fatal gulp. It’s not that I can’t imagine a Marine gulping down coffee without looking at it. It’s that I can’t imagine a murderer relying on that behavior to commit the murder.

But that’s not all.

The murderer was discovered because she drove her dad’s car and left the seat adjusted for her small body. She brought him the fatal drink, waited until he was dead, then manhandled his six-foot corpse into the car parked in the driveway, attached the garden hose to the exhaust pipe and threaded it through the window and plugged the holes with duct tape. She did all this in the driveway where everything she did would be visible from the street. In fact, there were kids next door throwing TP into a tree and laughing the way only teen boys laugh, and they were the ones who discovered the Marine’s body. Again, it’s not that I can’t imagine a teen girl having the chutzpah to put a corpse in a car where any passerby could see it. It’s that I can’t imagine that being part of a well-designed plan.

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Reflection on Death at 3 AM

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I don’t believe in death. I never have.

When my mom died, I was there. I saw the slow dissolution of her body, her labored breathing, her unconsciousness. I saw her afterward in the casket, her visage severe and unsmiling, her body patently uninhabited. She died, and her body was surrendered to the flames, reduced to a couple of handfuls of ash. There is no grave for her, no headstone saying how long she lived or memorializing her character as “Devoted Wife and Mother.” But there is a tree in Arizona planted in her memory. I know I can’t call her on the phone as I used to, but I can’t shake the feeling that she simply moved away and left no forwarding address. Somewhere she still is.

As a child I remember being fascinated by my own consciousness. Though I could not remember its beginning, I was convinced that it nevertheless began. That I began. I tried to understand death as not-being, but I could never do it. Even if I thought of it as a slumber from which one does not awaken, I could see that the possibility of awakening remained. Given a loud enough trumpet blast, a loud enough shout from the right archangel, even the dead would startle again into consciousness and wonder what the hell was going on. So I have never quite believed in death—my own nor anyone else’s.

Perhaps that is why my grief has seemed so wan, not much like the grief I’ve seen around me. Of course, dear as my mom is to me, there are others dearer still whose loss would be harder to bear. If I should lose a child, for example, I think I might grieve more. Or if I should lose the love of my life, whose very soul is knit to mine, I do not know how I would bear it. And yet I know I would bear it, just as people all over the world, even those who believe heartily in death, bear the loss of those they love and go on living anyway. But even if my wife died and the fabric of my life was rent in twain from top to bottom, I don’t think I would grieve as some have grieved. At the back of my mind would be this bright hope that I had somehow merely misplaced her contact information. Of course, I would see her again. I would kiss her brow and call her “my darling” and bring her coffee, and we would sit and catch up on all the things we had seen and done while we were apart.

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