The First Murder in History and What It Means for Me and You

The first time I read the Bible from cover to cover, I was eleven years old. I dutifully read four chapters every single day — the minimum that is required to get through the whole book in a year.

And at the end of it all, what had I learned?

Not very much.

But, at the time, I sure felt like God was proud of me because I was told by my Sunday School teacher that Bible reading was one of the things that made God happy. But, my reading of the Bible was nothing more than religious box-ticking.

Fast forward to my twenties, and I went off to seminary and went through the Holy Book a second time. This time, I was taught how to interpret the Bible properly, at least in the evangelical tradition. There, I was instructed on how to view scripture through a certain lens — one that emphasized a literal interpretation above all else. It was a perspective that left little room for ambiguity or metaphor. Humans may have written it, but it was God’s literal words… apparently.

But I’ll be honest: I struggled with the talking donkey, a global flood, and the idea of the earth being created in just six days, to name a few. But, since I was a church leader, I toed the company line.

Now, I’m in my forties, and I’m no longer leading in a church. So, I am working through the Bible again, but this time with a different eye. This time, I am not reading it as a book of history, morality, or religious doctrine. This time, I am reading these ancient words to see what I can learn about myself, the people around me, and how we relate to each other and God.

I’m taking an archetypal view.

What does that mean, exactly?

Viewing the Bible Archetypally

Taking an archetypal view means examining the Bible’s characters, stories, and themes as representations of universal patterns and symbols that resonate with the human condition across cultures and time periods. Instead of just seeing the narratives as literal historical accounts or religious teachings, I’m exploring them as reflections of fundamental human experiences and emotions.

In this approach, figures like Adam and Eve, Moses, Jonah, and others become symbols of broader concepts such as innocence, liberation, struggle, sacrifice, and redemption. Their stories serve as allegories for the trials, triumphs, and complexities of human existence.

I’ve decided that maybe each of the characters in the Biblical narrative has something to teach us about what it means to be human. In fact, if you’re able to move past those mind-numbing debates about whether this story or that story in the Bible happened exactly as written, I think you’ll find yourself in virtually every single character. Not only that, but you’ll encounter the collective struggles of human beings and the timeless quest for meaning and purpose.

I started my journey with Adam and Eve, which you can read about here. And now, I’m diving into the complex narrative surrounding their firstborn children, Cain and Abel. You thought your family was messed up; just wait!

I think there’s a little bit of Cain and Abel in all of us.

Cain and Abel and You

If you want to read the full Biblical narrative of Cain and Abel, then go and check out Genesis 4. Otherwise, here’s a summary:

In the ancient tale of Cain and Abel, we witness the timeless drama of sibling rivalry and divine favor. Adam and Eve welcome their firstborn, Cain, into the world, celebrating his arrival as a gift from the Lord. Soon after, Abel joins the family, each brother carving his own path in life — Abel tending to his flocks and Cain tilling the soil.

As the story unfolds, we see the brothers offering sacrifices to the Lord, Abel presenting the finest of his flock, and Cain offering the fruits of his labor. Yet, it is Abel’s offering that finds favor with the divine, sparking jealousy and anger within Cain. In a moment of unchecked rage, Cain commits the ultimate act of betrayal, taking his brother’s life.

When God confronts Cain, Cain denies responsibility, saying, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

However, even as he denies it, divine justice intervenes. Cain is sentenced to wander the earth, carrying the weight of his brother’s blood on his conscience. It’s a heavy burden to bear, but despite the weight of guilt and the loneliness of exile, there’s a glimmer of mercy in his story — a protection from immediate punishment, a chance for redemption despite his grave mistake.

Growing up in the church, we always heard about Abel getting it right and Cain messing up big time. It was like a simple morality play: Abel good, Cain bad. Cain was the poster child for jealousy and disobedience, and his story was a cautionary tale against being a sore loser.

But now, as I revisit this story, I’m starting to see it in a different light. Instead of just seeing Cain as the bad guy, I’m wondering if there’s more to his story. Maybe this Biblical tale is about more than who’s good and who’s bad. Maybe it’s about understanding, archetypally, the messy, complicated nature of being human, and especially being part of a family.

Here is where the story meets us.

The Favoured Child

How many great stories feature a child who basks in the warm glow of parental favoritism while their siblings languish in the shadows of neglect or disapproval?

It’s a classic theme in literature. In Louisa May Alcott’s “Little Women,” Jo March steals the spotlight as the favored daughter while her sisters live in her shadow. John Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” delves into the rivalry between brothers Cal and Aron, fueled by parental favoritism towards Aron. Even in the Marvel cinematic universe, the rivalry between Thor, the favored son and heir to the throne of Asgard, and his adoptive brother Loki, who feels overshadowed and overlooked, forms a central conflict in several Marvel films.

And the theme of favoritism comes up again and again in the Bible, as we will see, like the generational curse that it is. In the age-old story of Cain and Abel, the archetype of the Favoured Child is represented through the character of Abel. Apparently favored by God for his righteous offerings, Abel basks in divine approval, casting a radiant glow upon his life. His favor sets him apart as a beacon of virtue and grace, garnering admiration and reverence from his community and his family.

As well as the hatred of his brother.

And, on the surface, it might appear that being the favored child is a privileged position, but it can also be a double-edged sword. From an early age, the favored child is burdened with the weight of others’ expectations, constantly striving to live up to an ideal they never asked for. Their successes are often attributed to favoritism rather than their own efforts, while their failures are magnified and scrutinized.

There is no flying under the radar when you are the favored child. In fact, in many ways, the favored child becomes trapped in a gilded cage, longing to break free from the suffocating confines of others’ perceptions and projections. They may yearn for the freedom to forge their own path to define themselves on their own terms but find themselves shackled by the expectations placed upon them.

So, while being the favored child may seem like a privilege from the outside, it often comes with its own set of challenges and limitations. It’s a reminder that none of us choose the roles we’re assigned in our families and that the weight of expectation can be a heavy burden to bear.

That’s Abel!

The Jealous Sibling

Meanwhile, as Abel enjoys divine approval, his brother Cain is consumed by envy and bitterness. And, to be honest, can you blame him? I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s hard not to feel a little bit sorry for him. Imagine being overshadowed at every turn, your efforts constantly falling short in comparison to your sibling’s seemingly effortless success. It’s a recipe for resentment, and in Cain’s case, it boiled over into something far more sinister.

Cain is the Jealous Sibling archetype. His jealousy towards his favored brother reflects the universal human experience of comparison, competition, and the fear of inadequacy.

And who hasn’t felt that at some point?

I’d like to believe that in many families — most families even — favoritism is not an issue. However, the truth is that the echoes of the Favored Child archetype reverberate through many of our lives.

Were you the favored child? If you’re not sure, then chances are you were because the children who were left in the shadows sure as heck remember what that felt like.

Do you remember?

I do.

It leaves us with wounds that reverberate across our years. Those feelings of rejection and inadequacy continue to pop up at the most inopportune moments — like when you’re passed over for a promotion at work despite your qualifications, when a friend achieves a milestone you aspired to reach, or when you’re at a family gathering, and everyone seems to gravitate towards your sibling, leaving you feeling invisible once again.

It’s those little moments that remind us of the pain we felt growing up and how it still affects us today, coloring our perceptions and impacting our sense of self-worth.

The invitation of the Jealous Sibling Archetype is to step into our own shadow and explore the roots of our envy and insecurity. By acknowledging and confronting our feelings of jealousy, we can begin to unravel the tangled web of comparison and competition that holds us captive and finally be free to cultivate compassion and empathy towards ourselves and others.

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The Competitor

The dynamic between the favored child and the jealous sibling often gives rise to another archetype: the Competitor. This archetype emerges from the tension between siblings vying for attention, validation, and parental favor.

In the story of Cain and Abel, these two brothers weren’t just content with making offerings to God; they were in this unspoken competition to prove who was the better son. It wasn’t just about presenting the finest sacrifice; it was about showing off their worthiness in the eyes of God, their family, and the community. Much of this drive stems from the ego — the desire for validation and recognition.

The competitor archetype doesn’t confine itself to sibling rivalries alone. It spills into all aspects of our lives, infiltrating our relationships, careers, and personal pursuits. We find ourselves constantly comparing our achievements, measuring our success against others, and striving to outperform our peers.

Whether it’s seeking validation through social media likes, or vying for recognition in our personal relationships, the competitive urge lurks beneath the surface, driving our actions and shaping our interactions.

Yet, while competition can fuel ambition and spur us to achieve great feats, it also carries inherent dangers. When left unchecked, the desire to outdo others can lead to jealousy, resentment, and even hostility. Just as in the case of Cain and Abel, unchecked rivalry can result in tragic consequences.

I’m reminded of another Biblical story that illustrates the Competitor archetype well. James and John, two of Jesus’ disciples, approach him and request to sit at his right and left hand in heaven, subtly vying for positions of prominence. This story subtly underscores the human inclination to vie for superiority, even in the presence of the divine.

Yet, Jesus’ response to them offers a profound lesson. He emphasizes that true greatness lies not in asserting dominance over others but in serving them and embodying humility and selflessness. And I think that’s the real invitation of the Competitor archetype.

Rather than being ensnared by endless comparison and rivalry, we may only consider ourselves mature when we are able to magnify and celebrate the achievements and successes of others with full-hearted joy.

I don’t pretend to have arrived at such a point yet!

The Silent Assassin

There is another archetypal character at work in the Cain and Abel story. It’s the Silent Assassin. This archetype finds its genesis in the unspoken tensions and suppressed emotions that simmer beneath the surface of our interactions. It thrives in environments where communication is stifled, and conflicts are swept under the rug rather than addressed head-on.

To think, while outwardly participating in offerings to God, Cain’s heart simmered with jealousy and bitterness, ultimately leading to the tragic betrayal of his brother.

And while we might not kill anyone, we have all been guilty of engaging in acts of character assassination in one form or another. Whether through spreading gossip, sharing half-truths, or intentionally undermining someone’s reputation, we’ve all contributed to the erosion of trust and goodwill in our relationships. Like Cain, our envy and resentment can drive us to subtly undermine those around us, all while maintaining a façade of innocence and camaraderie.

The Silent Assassin finds its embodiment in characters like Judas Iscariot, whose betrayal of Jesus was fueled by hidden resentments and unspoken grievances. Judas walked among the disciples, outwardly appearing to be one of them, yet harboring secret motives and ulterior intentions. Always brooding but never confronting the issues.

We are like silent assassins when we refuse to confront our conflicts with others head-on, opting instead for passive-aggressive behaviors or behind-the-back maneuvers.

The Wanderer

After killing his brother, Cain is banished from his community and becomes a symbol of the Wanderer archetype, condemned to roam the earth with the weight of his guilt and remorse.

This archetype reflects the human experience of grappling with past mistakes, seeking redemption, and ultimately finding forgiveness — either from others, from God, or from within oneself.

In modern life, this archetype resonates with individuals who have faced personal crises or made terrible mistakes, seeking to reconcile their past actions and move towards healing and growth.

What’s interesting is although Cain’s failure is great, God offers his protection. Why? It’s certainly not because he deserves it. And so, we see that God’s mercy transcends human notions of deservingness.

And yet he isn’t spared from the wandering because, in the wilderness, we are forced to confront the very thing that we need to confront in order to be transformed.

Remember, if you find yourself as a wanderer, you are really on a redemptive journey.

A Story for Every Soul

It seems that dysfunctional families are as old as families themselves. And through the story of Cain and Abel, we get a window into the world of an ancient family with some timeless issues.

In fact, we find echoes of our own experiences — jealousy, favoritism, the pressure to perform, betrayal, resentment, and that feeling of being overlooked — all wrapped up in a few short verses. In unraveling the threads of their story, we unravel our own.

And in looking in at their world, we are offered an invitation. That invitation always calls us inward to confront the shadows that lurk there, to comfort the younger version of ourselves that weeps there, and to discover our immeasurable worth beyond the offerings we bring.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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