When talking about twins in the Torah, most peoples’ minds
immediately jump many generations to Yaakov and Esav, which makes sense. They
are the first identified twins in the Torah and the twins with the most “text.”
According to Bereishis Rabbah 22, however, the very first twins in the world
were actually Kayin and Hevel (Cain and Abel). In exploring who they were
before the tragic fratricide, one might find a subtle but fascinating parallel
between these sets of twins.
Their story really starts with their parents. Adam and Chava
were, one might say quite literally, two sides of the same person. Adam “knew”
Chava, the opposite side of himself, and from that union of two separated halves,
Kayin and Hevel were immediately conceived and born on the same day. From the
outset, at least according to their names and the information one can gather
from their professions, Kayin and Hevel were strikingly different. Kayin, who
was to become a farmer, was a man of the earth. Hevel, who was to become a
shepherd, was a man of spirit. Each of the sons appears to have been the
embodiment of one of the two aspects (earth and spirit) with which Hashem
created the united Adam.
How do we see this? There is actually a hint to their
natures hidden in their names. Kayin, kuf-yud-nun ihe, has letters that one could say are rooted
into the ground. Kayin’s life, in all aspects, was very much rooted in the
physical world both before and after the murder of his brother. Rabbi Shimshon
Raphael Hirsch notes: “Agriculture calls primarily for the expenditure of all one’s
bodily strength and energies. … The soil, fertilised with his own sweat, is
something which is precious to him, it contains part of his very self, it
chains him, he becomes stationary, earthbound.”
Hevel, on the other hand, is composed primarily of “breathy”
letters: hey-vet-lamed kcv. This
is the same word used by King Solomon in Koheles (Ecclesiastes) when he claims
that the pursuits of this world are empty vanity. Rav Hirsch points out that pastoral
work is far less physical: “The occupation does not make such a demand on the
expenditure of actual strength…and gives the mind opportunity for elevating
thoughts of godliness and goodness.”
Had the family of Adam remained in Gan Eden, Kayin and Hevel
would have had contrasting strengths that would have drawn them into a
wonderful partnership. The Torah makes certain to tell us that “In the course
of time,” (Bereshis 4:3) Kayin brought his offering to God from his produce. This
happened after they were expelled from Gan Eden. Then Hevel followed suit with “the
choicest of the firstlings of the flock. The Lord paid heed to Hevel and his
offering, but to Kayin and his offering He paid no heed” (ibid. 4:4-5) …
We all know what happened from there! In a world where the perfect balance of
creation was misaligned by the eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of
Good and Evil, Kayin and Hevel were no longer “simpatico.”
Kayin, the man of the earth, looked around at the things
with which he had been blessed and decided to thank God. After a day of rugged
work, he chose an offering, perhaps thinking only of the basic desire to
express his gratitude. Hevel, the shepherd, who spent his days looking after
his sheep, contemplating his flock, contemplating their beauty and worth and
the nature of life and creation, followed suit with an offering into which he
brought more thought, more contemplation of the spiritual. Kayin could not
understand what it was about Hevel’s offering that pleased God more, perhaps
like a man of toil who cannot understand the necessity of philosophers and artists
who seem not to produce anything tangible. Hevel, on the other hand, looked at the
simple act of Kayin and, perhaps, thought that there was a way to bring out a
more spiritual angle to this basic act of gratitude. It never occurred to him,
with his mind wrapped in his own ways of thinking, that this would take away
from Kayin.
Kayin and Hevel both had very definite ways of living in the
world, of seeing the world, and of expressing themselves in the world. Had they
still been in the Garden or had they worked together, their coordinated
offerings might have been richly glorious and there would have been peace
between them. In this way they were like Esav and Yaakov, the man of the field
and the man of the tent. Both sets of twins brimmed with potential … had they
only been able to see past their differences. Perhaps this difficulty in seeing
the world from beyond one’s own personal perspective is part of the tragedy of
Chava and Adam having eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
From the story of
Kayin and Hevel, it is possible to find a lesson in working with those whose way
of being in the world is different than our own rather than placing them in categories
of “other,” of better or worse. This will lead to the ultimate gift that the
Jewish people could offer to Hashem right now, the gift of unity.
1. Hirsch, Rabbi Samsom Raphael. The
Pentateuch: Volume V Deuteronomy. Translated by Isaac Levy, Judaica Press,
LTD, 1999.
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