Rav Shai's Torah on the Grow

The Torah’s first question, from God no less, is a one-worder — “Ayeka?” “Where are you?” It is tantalizingly unclear if the question is geographical or psychological. Adam, whose enzymes of guilt were just beginning to digest the forbidden fruit, responds as if the question were, “Why are you hiding from Me?”

East of Eden, Cain is the first human to ask a question. When God asks Cain where his brother Abel is, Cain answers the question with a question: “I don’t know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” Cain did know — he had just killed him. Defiance, murder, and duplicity — not an auspicious start for the family.

Raised as an unchurched, rugged individualist, when I first heard the “question” about being my brother’s keeper, I assumed the answer was no. Caveat emptor. As a young adult, I eventually understood that the question was rhetorical, but it was years before I learned of its biblical source. Not long after that, my teacher introduced me to the grammatically disruptive interpretation of the Kli Yekar (Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz, 1550–1619). Cain’s answer to God was not a snarky evasion, but a rueful confession: “I didn’t know I was my brother’s keeper.” 

Whether disingenuous or contrite, Cain is the anti-hero. The only way to redeem the tragedy of fratricide is to learn Cain’s lesson by answering God’s question. Thank God, guilt runs in the family. 

Where are we?