All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (6 page)

The base of the structure was twelve stones wide on four sides. The stones themselves were each nearly a cubit square, standing in height almost to Cain’s knees. How he had managed to move them at all by himself was a mystery. On top of this base of stones he had stacked smaller stones and on top of these smaller ones yet, about head-sized. The stones rested against each other and seemed to fit snugly next to any other stone they abutted. The result was a flat-topped, triangular construction that reached to Cain’s shoulders. On the ground, at Cain’s feet, was one last stone that would complete his third layer.

“Cain, I lugged this rock all the way here. It would probably fit right there where you have a gap,” Abel suggested. “Why don’t you help me, and we’ll hoist it in to place.”

Cain spun around to confront his brother. “Abel, there on the ground at your feet is the stone I have selected to fit that particular gap. As you can see I am nearly finished, and I do not need you snaking in to take credit for efforts and ideas that are not your own. If you are so determined to sacrifice your lamb today, why don’t you just go find another hill and build your own altar.”

“Maybe I will,” said Abel.

“Maybe you should,” said Cain. “You have already caused me to fall behind the plan I have set for myself with your distractions.”

“Fine,” said Abel, “but I’m taking my rock.” Abel bent and again lifted the large stone with both arms, then with an effort, pressed it up and onto his right shoulder. He turned slowly, nearly lost his balance, and started down the hill toward another grassy knoll just a small stones throw away.

Cain was angry. Not at Abel but at himself. He recognized the fact that he had never demonstrated the kind of patience his father had, and it irritated him. He wanted to be a good man, a good brother. He tried to surprise his mother with small gifts; he worked hard and did not give up when confronted by a daunting task. Even the idea of an extra sacrifice occurred to him as he lay by himself, late at night, staring up at the stars and trying to think how he could best impress his father and possibly Kesitah as well. He knew he sometimes caused them anguish when he’d see their reactions toward him. Often, when they spoke to him, he wouldn’t answer right away, choosing rather to carefully select his words so as to make the best impression. As a younger boy, he had had the tendency to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind, often to the disappointment of his mother and disapproval of his father. Now he was a much quieter man, and he hoped they were a much happier family. But now, he had rejected Abel’s offer to help, and as much as Cain disliked his brother’s attempts to share credit for things he had little or no part of, Cain did not want to be the bad guy on this day.

Cain cupped his hands around his mouth. “Abel,” he yelled. Slowly Abel turned with the big rock still on his shoulder, and a look of hopefulness on his face. “I’ll see you at the evening meal.” Cain hoped that would make his younger brother feel better.

Abel nodded, waved half-heartedly with his free hand, then turned and continued to disappear down the hill.

The sun was high in the sky when Kole walked down the path toward Cain’s place. The afternoon air was hot and dry, and the day seemed quiet, almost ominous. Kole squinted his eyes but could not make out his brothers beyond the trees. The sun was bright and full in the sky, and the path was dappled with shadows that moved and played tricks on his eyes. He looked up into the trees for the songbirds but assumed they were nesting in their cool boles during the heat of the day.

The path ended where the forest did, at the edge of a grassy vale that sloped down into a valley between Cain’s camp and Abel’s. Through the center of the dale ran a small creek, burbling and breaking around rocks, rushing along to unknown destinations. Cut into the banks of the creek were shallow channels filled with water that Kole assumed Cain had furrowed to bring additional moisture to his plantings. Between the hand-dug trenches were several rows of mounds, each flourishing with Cain’s crops; corn, beans, squash, melons, berries, and greens. Kole was already starting down the slope when he spotted both brothers, each on a separate hilly rise. Neither of his brothers had spotted him and both looked busy with their offertory preparations, so Kole found a mossy seat beside a large boulder and, leaning against it, studied his brother’s individual efforts at conducting a sacrifice.

Abel held a small lamb in his arms and appeared to be calming and quieting it with soft whispers. Looking across the valley at Cain, Kole could not see his brother’s sacrificial animal but watched as Cain walked around a large stone pile once, twice, a total of seven times. Abel held up a large stone knife and, with some skill, drew it expertly across the small animal’s neck.

Even from his distant position, Kole could see the red coloring of the animal’s blood against its white wool. Abel gently laid his dying lamb across a rather humble pile of stones, not even as high as Nolia was tall. Then from a leather hide he lifted fat pieces of meat and set them upon the lamb’s body. Abel knelt down beside his offering and pressed his face and bloody hands into the dirt, just as their father had done. Kole glanced over at Cain and was amazed to see him heaving a large basket over his head. He set it skillfully on the top of his altar. Kole shielded his eyes with his hand, hoping to separate the sun from the shadows, and could discern fruits and vegetables piled within the basket, but no sacrificial lamb.

Oh no,
thought Kole.

Cain stood beside his cairn with the basket of produce towering over his head. He spread his feet and raised his arms in supplication to the Lord. Kole could hear his voice echoing across the dell. He had to assume that Abel, although still prostrate upon the ground, could hear it as well.

“Oh, great Creator, heavenly Eternal, hear me, and receive my offering of thanks. I have here selected choice pieces and present them to you as a portion of all that I have. You have blessed your servant with many talents and with abundance and fruitfulness upon the earth. I have received dominion from you, through my father Adam, over this earth and caused it to prosper mightily, to Your glory. Whatever I set my hand to do, I do with all my might. Please signify your acceptance of my offering with your holy heavenly fire. Oh great Creator…” said Cain, starting through his prayer again.

Kole glanced toward Abel, just in time to see him rising to his feet. Abel looked across the valley at Cain. Sensing his brother’s eyes on him, Cain looked over his shoulder at Abel, then launched into his well-rehearsed prayer for a third time. With one last look at his offering, Abel turned and started walking down the hillside toward the valley and toward Cain. He had not quite reached the bottom when a loud crackling rumbled from the sky, and a bolt of fire fell to the earth and consumed Abel’s lamb and the stones as well. Smoke rose up from the scorched earth and burnt meat, filling the air with the scent of its burning.

“No!” Cain cried out to the heavens and launched into a new prayer. “Lord, Lord, do not forsake me. I have freely offered my thanks. I have fasted and prepared for this moment. I have given of the best that I have. This was all my idea. You can’t accept my brother’s casual offering and not accept my sincere one. Lord, look down upon me with your grace, and send your fire to burn up this tribute. Please, God. Please. Don’t do this to me.”

Cain crumbled from his defiant stance onto the ground, great sobs racking through his body. Even from where he sat, Kole could see the agony shuddering through his brother. He ached to go to him but knew Cain had to work his own way through this. It was not that his brother’s offering itself was wrong or inadequate. A bloodless offering was acceptable, but it was in his pride that Cain failed to repent. Cain wanted God to see the image of himself that he had created rather than trying to live up to the image that God had created him in. Cain needed to ask the Creator for forgiveness, not for recognition.

Abel on the other hand had lowered himself to the dirt, knowing the state from which his human father had originated and realizing the condition that he himself would someday return to. God recognized that as true humility and honored his offering. Cain had a lesson here to learn, and it would not be an easy one for him.

“My brother,” Abel called up the hill as he jumped from rock to rock to cross the small creek between the hillocks.

“Let me alone, Abel,” snarled Cain, “I’m in no mood for your pity.”

“I have no pity to offer you, Brother. My offering to you is an arm around your shoulder and that we walk and talk together. Come down to your fields, and see how they fare.”

“I’ve had enough of your offerings for one day,” Cain snapped. “Just leave me alone. Go back and report to father how I have failed; how I have been rejected by the Lord.”

“Cain, my older brother, I have no desire to do as you say. My desire is to stay with you until together we find the words that will appeal to the Lord. Come, let us re-examine all that has happened this day and correct the errors that we both have made.” Abel pleaded with his brother with words and body language, beckoning him to come down the hill to the valley where it was cooler; where hot tempers could dissipate and reason could prevail.

Cain’s only response, “Brother, I’m in no mood.”

Kole should have risen then and intervened between his brothers. He had words and wisdom enough to intercede, yet he hesitated. He still felt it better that the brothers work this out between themselves.

Abel knelt down to the water in the creek and washed the blood and dirt from his hands and face. He cupped his hands together and drank deeply. He splashed the water over his head and then remained kneeling for long moments. Finally he rose and turned as if to leave.

“Abel,” called Cain. “Wait for me.”

Cain rose, halted, then walked down the slope of the hill toward his brother. He skirted his mound crops, and when he reached the water he looked at Abel, searching for hidden motives behind his eyes. Finding none, he lay down on the bank and, putting his lips to the water, drank as if he could wash away his shame. Quenching himself he sat up and began to throw fist-sized rocks into the creek. From where he sat, unnoticed, Kole could hear the kerplunks as the stones hit the flowing water.

Abel sat down beside his brother. “Cain, you are loved by the Lord as a son,” he said, searching the sky for soothing words.

“Why then am I not accepted if I do well?” Cain asked. “If what I am doing is not doing well enough, then I can only continue to fail. I am doing the best I can.”

“We can all do better, Cain,” said Abel.

“Do you believe that, Brother? Was not your lamb found worthy of acceptance? What more can you do?” Cain challenged.

“I may not find acceptance every time, my brother. I can only have faith that the Lord will lead me to choose rightly. I would put to you a question, Cain.”

“What might that be,” Cain retorted.

“Why did you not sacrifice a lamb? You have some animals. Why not follow Father’s example and present one to the Lord?”

“You also found my offering unacceptable, Little Brother?” Cain bristled.

“No, Brother, I am no judge of what is acceptable to the Lord. It is an innocent question, simply put.”

“Simple to one who cares for many animals and has nothing to lose. You can sacrifice lambs all day and not notice the difference from your herd. I gave of my abundance. I have but few sheep and would sorely feel the loss.”

Abel sat in silence with his brother after that. They watched the water flow past them, marking the time. Kole sat in his own seclusion, wondering how his brothers would resolve the events of this remarkable day.

“Cain,” said Abel quietly, “I need to thank the Lord for accepting my offering. I would like for you to remain here with me, to thank Him with me.”

“I have nothing to thank the Lord for this day,” said Cain, tossing another fair-sized rock into the creek.

“Nothing for which to thank the Creator of all?” asked Abel with surprise. “Surely you don’t believe that, Cain. He has given you skill and talent, health and opportunity. He has provided this vast land to explore and cultivate, created parents for us who are both patient and wise. We have received many blessings from Him. We should be thankful.”

Cain grunted.

“Tomorrow we can try again together, Brother. I will give you some of my flock if you like, and you can choose the best of them to sacrifice.”

“I don’t need your charity. You are still my younger brother, and you’d do well to remember that,” said Cain, rising to his feet, the rock he had been about to toss into the current still in his hand.

“Cain,” said Abel, looking up at him. “It is not charity I offer; it is harmony. You sing and I will play. We will together make a joyful noise to the Lord.”

“I do not sing, Abel,” Cain responded, “and you play enough for the both of us. I am not inclined to remain here with you any longer. Counsel yourself, but do not attempt to counsel me anymore this day.” Cain started walking through his fields back toward his camp.

“Cain,” Abel yelled, turning his head, trying to salvage the situation. “You would do well to take counsel from any source you can find. What you need is to tell the Lord that you are sorry. Ask him to forgive you and offer him a blood sacrifice.”