“4 Now Adam had sexual relations with his wife, Eve, and she became pregnant. When she gave birth to Cain, she said, “With the Lord’s help, I have produced a man!” 2 Later she gave birth to his brother and named him Abel.”
“9 Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is Abel your brother?” He said, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” 10 And He said, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!”
“16 Then Cain went out from the presence of the Lord and dwelt in the land of Nod on the east of Eden. 17 And Cain knew his wife, and she conceived and bore Enoch.”
I think the first murder happens when you’re new to the Bible. Reading Genesis for the first time, something looks odd. Back and forth, back and forth. It’s the absence of something. No, someONE.
Wait, you think, counting on fingers. If there were only 4 people in the world, where did Cain get his wife? You’re evangelical, and taught to take the Bible literally after all. So you ask someone in authority. It’s usually a man. And they shrug.
“Cain married his sister. It wasn’t illegal back then”. And they walk off. The answer so casual, like you’d asked what time it was. To them it’s a “childish question”. You’re left with your first murder. The church casually admitting they’d be cool with incest if it wasn’t for all those pesky laws.
And once you notice one missing person, you see more. Eve, Adah, and Zillah are the first women who give birth and keep their names. After that, most begatting in the Bible happens between men. And the occasional nameless women.
Slowly, you notice a whisper campaign. There’s one in every church. It’s made of people who’ve been murdered by the Bible. Sliced open by the shrugs of men in authority who either don’t know or don’t care about the impact of their words. They take you in, show you how to tend to your wounds and others. Because there will be more murders.
Slices of souls cut off by consuming fires of tongues filled with “objectivity”.
Women who both shouldn’t and must at the same time.
Black people unable to both die and comply quickly enough to stroke white egos.
LGBTQ+ folks struggling to maintain their first love of family and church while they reach for new.
Those with disabilities unable to live, let alone thrive in church cultures that hold space only for miraculous healings or inspirational suffering.
“Am I my brother’s keeper?”
Your brother didn’t need a keeper. He needed to live. We don’t want keepers, jailers, heads. We’re tired of our own blood crying out from the ground, and you sulking every time you get caught.
Our blood cries out from the ground while White, heterosexual, temporarily able bodied, cisgender men begat together. Begat their clones, begat more power, begat inerrancy. Begat the fragility they accuse everyone else of. They begat together until the noise fills up churches, seminaries, and conferences.
Until the noise drowns out our worries and questions. Until the noise drowns us out. Until the noise drowns us.
The first murder usually happens when you’re new to the Bible. But there are always more.
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