Sensitive to the complexities and inner tensions of the Biblical narrative, the Midrash, as usual, tries to adorn it with details and commentaries, the Midrash being to the Bible what imagination is to knowledge. But in this particular instance, the commentators seem intimidated by the subject. Rabbi Shimon Bar-Yohai has left us this sentence: Kashe hadavar lemro veii efshar lape lefar-sho—This episode cannot be expressed in words, nor is it possible to comment on its implications.

In fact, there is less Midrashic material about Cain and Abel than about any other Biblical figure. We are told much about Abraham and his father, Moses and his brother, Pharaoh and his counselors. Using Midrashic texts, we can reconstruct their portraits. But not those of Cain and Abel. The only attempt to leave us a description, however sketchy, of Cain was made by his grandson, Lemekh . . . who was blind. The rabbinical chroniclers evidently concluded that the event led too far, further than the one that later took place on Mount Moriah; for Isaac was saved, Abel was not.

And yet the Talmud does, however reluctantly, offer a variety of explanations for this first murder in history, covering it from every possible angle. Our sages exerted themselves trying to explain the tragedy; some based their thesis on materialistic motives, others on sexual impulses, still others on religious considerations, so that every passion that ever fanned a war would be named and every taste satisfied.

First hypothesis: Cain and Abel quarreled over strictly material possessions, two brothers at odds over their parents’ heritage—but what a heritage: the whole world. Cain appropriated all the real estate while Abel took everything else. The conflict broke out when the older of the two, greedy and dissatisfied, wanted to expel his brother from his domain: The ground on which you are walking is mine, leave it; you may fly if you wish. The air does not belong to me, but the ground is mine. The little brother’s retort was quick in coming: Perfect. But in that case take off the clothes you’re wearing; the wool they are made of comes from my flock and the flock is mine, therefore so is the wool. One word led to another, one insult to another, the quarrel turned violent. And God suddenly realized that words can lead to murder.

This explanation, appealing as it may be to those who would consider economic tensions as the cause of most evils, is tenuous at best. It does not take into consideration the fact that the two brothers could not in any way share in their parents’ heritage for the simple reason that both their parents were still alive. True, Adam and Eve were getting on in years, yet they were not as old as all that, since they eventually had a third son, Seth. What right did Cain and Abel have to claim properties that were not theirs? Were they trying to take them over unlawfully? And why did their parents not object?