Breishit: Cain's Fear

The Enemy Soldier

Two nations were at war—the kind of war that drags on and on. One night, a reconnaissance unit slipped behind enemy lines and returned to base with prisoners—captured soldiers, some bruised, some defiant, some too tired to care.

One of the prisoners, however, had a sudden burst of energy. He raised his hands and shouted:

"Wait! Don’t shoot! I’m one of you—I was born in your country!"

The commandos looked at him, unimpressed. One of them folded his arms. Another adjusted his rifle. Finally, their commander shrugged and said:

"Really? And yet, there you were, fighting against us, just like the other enemy soldiers. So tell me—why should we treat you any differently?"

It was a fair question.

Cain and the Fear of Beasts

From the very beginning, God promised that mankind would have nothing to fear from the animals. That the animals would look at us and sense something different, something higher. "The fear and dread of you shall be upon all the beasts of the earth" (Gen. 9:2).

But what happens when a person loses the very thing that sets humans apart? What happens when he lets his instincts rule him, when he forgets his calling and becomes, in all but name, just another beast?

Cain found out.

After killing his brother, Cain wasn’t just afraid of people. He was afraid of everything. "All who find me will kill me!" he cried (Gen. 4:14). Not just men—animals, too. As Rashi explains, all who find me meant even the beasts of the field.

It was not an empty fear. Cain had crossed a line. He had lost his tzelem Elokim, his Divine image. He had surrendered the dignity that made him more than just another creature on the earth. So why should the animals fear him? Why should they see in him anything higher than themselves?

So God, in His kindness, gave Cain a mark of protection. A sign that, despite everything, he was still human. 

Picture a man, wandering through the jungle, when suddenly a lion appears—a great, golden-maned beast, muscles tensed, eyes locked on its prey.

Panicked, the man cries out: "Wait! Stop! You’re supposed to fear me! God said so!"

And the lion, if it could speak, might just cock its great head to the side and reply: "Oh? And what exactly makes you so special? You live like an animal. You act like an animal. You’ve cast aside the dignity of your soul. So tell me—why should I treat you any differently?"

Restoring the Garden of Eden

But for those who live a life of integrity and holiness, the Torah promises, "All the nations will see that God's name is upon you, and they will be in awe of you" (Deut. 28:10).

In the future, the world will return to its original harmony, to the state it knew in Eden. A world where fear is no longer needed, where dignity is no longer lost. Where, as Isaiah foresaw:

"An infant shall play over a viper's hole, and a child shall pass his hand over an adder’s den. In all of My sacred mount, nothing evil or vile shall be done, for the land shall be filled with devotion to God" (Isaiah 11:8-9).

It is a world we have yet to reach. But a world that, with God’s help, we can work to build.

(Meshalim ve-gam Sipurim (Steinman, 1957), pp. 100-101)