One the most beautiful practices I’ve incorporated into my life is what Jews call ‘tikkun olam,’ meaning “repairing the world.” It’s selflessly tending to the world and serving others as a form of religious practice. The thing about this practice is it’s hard. The world is supremely challenging and full of suffering. The work is never done.
This story is about not only selfless service but understanding the nature of your role, the people around you, and the task at hand.
Additionally, I thought it useful to share that this depiction of Cain is based on the Kabbalist perspective. Kabbalists often view Cain as an eternal agent of tikkun olam and the mark of Cain as a protective blessing that helps him in his never-ending mission to repair the world.
Chapter 1:
It was a devastating moment. The first of its kind. Cain could see in his mother’s eyes pain that had never before been felt.
“This is all my fault,” Eve sobbed. “I should have never eaten from that tree. This never would have happened if we had just stayed in the Garden.”
Cain wiped his tears and returned his arms to their crossed position. There was no comforting her. There was no erasing what he had done. “No, Mom. This was me. My actions. You don’t carry my sin.”
“I paved the way for this,” Eve shook her head.
Cain extended his right hand and showed her his palm, the newly formed branding from God glowing from his flesh. “And I bear it.”
Eve’s eyes widened upon seeing the mark. “Cain…what is that?”
Cain took a deep breath. “It’s my path forward. God gave me a mark. My punishment for bringing this darkness into the world is an eternal life of service to Him. Through me, the mess came; through my help, it will be cleaned up.”
Eve nodded. She looked like she had many things to say, but they were all too in conflict to come out.
“I’m sorry about…” Cain trailed off. “I think my biggest punishment isn’t that I have to live and suffer forever. It’s that I can never rejoin my family at home in the World to Come. God told me I can never have a home anywhere.”
Eve collapsed to her knees, racked with unintelligible sobbing. Cain thought he could hear her trying to say “sorry,” but he couldn’t be sure.
“I have to go now, Mom,” Cain said through agonized tears. The salt from the tears was bitter in his mouth. “I love you. Tell Dad…I’m sorry.”
Eve let out a primal scream of anguish as she watched her firstborn walk away for the last time.
That scream followed Cain for millennia.
Chapter 2:
Elijah and Elisha stood by the river bank and stared at the flaming horses and the chariot of fire they pulled. God had come for Elijah, that much was clear. It was time for him to step up to the occasion and ascend in a manner no one ever had before.
“Elisha,” Elijah said, slowly turning from the chariot to his beloved student, “it is time for me to go.”
Elisha faced his teacher. “What will happen now?”
Elijah placed a firm hand on Elisha’s shoulder and gave it a proud squeeze. “My dear friend, you must pick up where I left off. I’m sure we will see each other again.”
Elisha nodded. “If it’s God’s will, it’s for the best.”
Elijah pulled Elisha in for a hug. It was their first embrace as teacher and student, as both of them were generally grumpy and standoffish, but the weight of the moment was enough to make anyone emotional. Although this was the first time they hugged, the affection between them was always known. Elijah was not subtle about the fact that Elisha was the only person he liked. “Good luck, Elisha.”
Elijah turned and took a step toward the chariot. He paused. It was very much on fire. By now, Elijah understood that was just God’s way of decorating things, but it was still intimidating to touch. As he approached, he felt no heat radiating from the vehicle. He stepped on, turned to Elisha, and waved as he was pulled into the clear sky toward Heaven.
Chapter 3:
“Good morning, Cain,” Gabriel’s familiar voice came from outside the tent.
“Morning, Gabriel,” Cain groaned, stretching on his sleep mat. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Just thought I’d let you know God made another one of you.”
“Huh?”
“Another immortal servant. This one’s name is Elijah.”
Cain bolted out of the tent to face the angel, squinting at Gabriel through the glaring sunlight. “Really?”
The angel nodded. “Yeah. A real firebrand, but there’s a good heart underneath.”
Cain crawled out onto the dry desert ground and pushed himself up. “What’s the story?”
“You’re the immortal for humanity; he’s the immortal for the Children of Israel. I’m sure you guys will have plenty of overlap.”
Cain beamed. “Wow, that’s awesome.” He paused for a moment. “Oh man, I was so excited I forgot my manners. How are you, my friend?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I’m good. Nothing new to report. Sandalphon is working on a new thing called ‘jazz,’ which is kind of hit or miss. Hopefully, he’ll figure it out before God deploys it to Earth. Anyway, I have to go, but just thought I should let you know. I’m happy for you.”
“Me too.” The excitement was overwhelming for Cain. Finally, someone who wouldn’t die. The worst part about Cain’s situation, by far, was that nobody on Earth knew him for longer than a few years. He never got past introductions, which is something he kept to a minimum anyway, as they were ultimately meaningless to an immortal. His only lasting relationships were with God, the angels, and a couple of friendly demons. “He could be the biggest jerk who’s ever walked the Earth, and I’d still be happy about this.”
Gabriel laughed. “Good, because he’s certainly up there.”
Chapter 4:
Elijah was not in the mood. He wasn’t in the mood for the morally bankrupt people of Israel he’d been immortalized to serve, he wasn’t in the mood for the bastard who invented such evils, and he most certainly wasn’t in the mood to make a new friend over lunch.
“I’m telling you,” Cain said, hurrying after Elijah down the busy street, “I know the best Samarian tavern you’ve ever been to. Best lamb chops in the Northern Kingdom. And don’t even get me started on the wine!”
“I only drink on Passover,” Elijah grumbled, facing forward and power-walking full force. His irritation and hatred were mixing within him to form a cocktail of anger.
“That’s because you’ve never had this stuff,” Cain said, either willfully ignorant of social cues or an idiot. Elijah couldn’t decide which was more likely. “It’s on me.”
“I don’t have time,” Elijah said. “I have to meet with Elisha. Something about a bear.”
“You have all the time in the world,” Cain said. “We’re the only two immortal humans on Earth. Trust me, kiddo, you’re going to want a friend after a few thousand years.”
“And what makes you think I’d wanna be friends with the pioneer of sin?” Elijah asked. “The man who brought the decay into the world that I’ve been tasked to mend.” The anger within Elijah was fermenting into rage.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Cain said, sounding more playful than defensive, “I’ve never done anything that others don’t do every day. It’s not my fault I’m the first person ever born. It’s less pioneering, more being the first customer. But I’m actually pretty cool once you get to know me.”
“You’re a murderer,” Elijah spat, still not so much as glancing at Cain.
“And you’re super judgy. Are you generally this friendly, or is something particular going on?”
The rage could no longer be contained. Elijah whipped around to face Cain. “My existence is a never-ending losing battle to stop society around me from collapsing in on itself. The cause of this decay stems from one incredibly irritating man whose single life accomplishment of note is killing his own brother. And now, that very pox of a man has shown up on my back demanding to buy me lunch so we can become eternal drinking buddies. That’s what’s going on, you worthless rabid dog. Leave me alone and don’t dare speak to me again.” Elijah stormed off. He could hear Cain call after him.
“So, rain check on lunch. Got it. We’ll reconvene in a few hundred years.”
Chapter 5:
Cain walked through the streets of Jerusalem. It was sixteen months into the Babylonian siege, and the city was near-empty compared even to its recent numbers. It had been thousands of years since the state of the world had so disturbed Cain. Within the walls of God’s capital, he had seen orphaned children eating the remains of their mothers; former community leaders stealing from their neighbors, condemning them to starvation. And that was saying nothing of the widespread plague. What had started as a city of tens of thousands was now home—no, prison—to hundreds.
He had spent the siege working as a healer but understood that God’s sentence for the city was death. That was the arrangement: God put the world on an axis, mankind set the trajectory for hell, and Cain was sent to fight the good fight. Victory was seldom visible on the large scale, but one act at a time was what the world needed from him.
Cain observed the smell of the breeze. There was less decay in the air. Most of the bodies had finished rotting. It was a strange pain in Cain’s heart to smell fresh air. He walked along the narrow alleyways of Jerusalem, looking to care for those in need—and there he found his next assignment.
Under a blanket in the shade, face in hands and shaking with sobs, was Elijah.
They had seen each other here and there throughout the siege but hadn’t spoken beyond a few words; Elijah was clear about his distaste for Cain, and Cain tried to respect Elijah’s wishes. But the tension had somewhat faded; they worked side by side to care for those in need and shared an unspoken mutual understanding of the nature of their assignment. They acted not quite as teammates, but members of the same team nonetheless.
Cain sat down. “Hey,” said the first sinner to the weeping prophet.
Elijah said nothing.
“When I killed Abel, I thought there was no coming back from what I had become,” Cain said. “When God gave me a chance to turn the darkness of my actions to light, I was exultant. I truly was. I thought it would be a road full of beauty and redemption. And it has been, in some ways. For some time, I took care of my children and their children and helped guide humanity. My kin invented music and civilization itself. I was so proud.”
Elijah’s sobbing slowed.
“Then, they lost their way,” Cain went on. “Like any father, I did my best, but nobody listened. Much like I’ve seen with my father and his sons, and God Himself with humanity. Everyone needs to make their own mistakes. And make them they did, as is the human way. I watched as the Flood destroyed my world, the consequences of their actions sweeping them away like the consequences of mine did to me. I tried my best. What horrors happened to the world were not my failing, but my mission to mend.”
Cain leaned over to Elijah, whose breathing was normalizing. “Jerusalem was not your fault. God’s plan and the choices of others are not your failings, Elijah.”
Cain pushed himself off the ground to continue his current assignment.
“Hey,” Elijah’s voice called, hoarse and weak.
Cain turned around, smiling gently. “Yeah?”
“Need any help on your rounds?”
Chapter 6:
“I can’t thank you enough for coming,” said Elijah, relieved not only for the help but for someone who could relate.
“Of course!” Cain replied, casual as ever. “I was bound for Spain soon anyway. When Gabriel showed up and said you needed something here, it was clearly time.”
“How was Japan?” Elijah asked.
“Mixed,” Cain said. “The food was scrumptious, but the civil war was horrific.”
The two walked the streets of Barcelona. The sun was setting, and merchants were closing up shop and going home. The streets looked less diverse than usual, with no obvious Jews or Muslims in sight. Elijah could still tell, but those in hiding did it well. It saddened him to see violence and persecution carry on for so many centuries, but it was like Cain had said: the chaos and suffering of the world was their mission to mend. Elijah took comfort in the knowledge that he was doing exactly what God needed of him.
“Sorry to hear about Japan,” Elijah said. “Truth be told, Spain’s not doing so hot either.”
Cain chuckled dryly but didn’t sound humored. “I’m shocked. What are we here to do?”
“Smuggle people out,” Elijah said. “A member of the tribe who goes by Christopher Columbus is claiming to be a Catholic, and is trying to organize a state-sponsored voyage. I’ll see that Jews get organized to be taken onboard—you see to it that the voyage takes off and they get safe passage to somewhere.”
“Sounds good to me,” Cain said. He pointed to a tea shop down the road. “Would you wanna sit down for tea first? On me.”
“I’d love to some other time, but there’s work to do, and I can’t rest until it’s done.”
“Elijah, the work is never done. That’s the point.”
Elijah sighed. But what could he do? People were dying, and work-life balance had never been his strong suit.
“Man, when’s the last time you took a minute to appreciate the world God preserved you in?”
That was an excellent question. Elijah thought about it for a moment and realized the answer was “never”—but he wasn’t about to admit it. He was so busy serving intensely that he never took a moment to joyfully exist in doing so. Serving God felt more like a burden than a blessing at times, due to the impossibility of fixing the world. Elijah knew he took himself far too seriously to acknowledge that God had a sense of humor and put it into the world for His creations to enjoy.
Finally, Elijah answered. “There’s a lot of suffering, Cain. It doesn’t feel right lounging about while that remains the case.”
“It’s not about lounging around. It’s how you serve.”
“I serve with all of myself—never less.”
“If you serve with all of yourself and you’re miserable, you’re bringing misery with you. Our work requires an embrace of the situation, suffering and all, because that’s what God made the world with. There would be no need for us—or anyone else—if that weren’t the case. If you want to fix the world, don’t agonize about it needing to be fixed. Fix it with a smile. Otherwise, immortality will be the death of you.”
“But how can I fix it with a smile when what I’m fixing is the murder of children? Or the persecution of the innocent?”
Cain shrugged. “You can fix that while crying, too. But acknowledge that it’s okay to cry. You may be doing God’s work, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t human.”
Elijah cocked an eyebrow. “You just said not to be miserable. You’re getting inconsistent, here.”
Cain laughed. “Not at all. Just don’t be miserable about being miserable. It’s okay to be miserable as long as you’re experiencing your emotions as a reaction to what’s happening—as long as it’s not just your mind telling you to be miserable. Life can be miserable, suffering is miserable; cry about it. That’s fine. But don’t take that too seriously either.”
“So, don’t take it too seriously, is what I’m hearing?”
“Let the part of you that’s human take it as seriously as it needs to, while allowing your soul to laugh about it after.”
Chapter 7:
Cain admired the scent of the air. The aromas of baguettes, croissants, and steaming coffee swirled around him, transporting him from the little Parisian coffee shop into somewhere near Heaven. “I must say, Elijah,” Cain nearly sang, “this is certainly a delightful little hole in the wall.”
“Of course,” Elijah replied through a half-smile. “Get whatever you want—on me.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Cain said, marveling at the menu. “It’s been two hundred years since our last sit-down. I’m making the most of it.”
“Mind if I break the rules and talk about work before lunch is over?” There was pain in Elijah’s voice.
Cain lowered his menu. “What’s on your mind?”
Elijah gave a deep sigh. “Message from upstairs. It’s bad, Cain. Really bad. The war to end all wars…will be nothing compared to this.”
Cain’s heart sank. The thought of the children hurting each other more than they already had was beyond imagination. Even the Flood didn’t compare to the horrors of that terrible war. From chemical weapons to tanks, the creativity they used against each other knew no bounds. “How bad?”
“Eighty million,” Elijah said. “And the methods…beyond imagination—at least, beyond ours.”
Cain nodded as he absorbed the information. The crime he’d invented had now been perfected. “I want to apologize,” he said.
“For what?”
Cain looked into Elijah’s eyes. “I’ve never really had someone to really apologize to. For what came into the world through me. It needed to happen, somehow, for the Divine Plan—and I know I’ve done my fair share of good—but I’ve never really had the opportunity to say sorry to anyone, so…
“I’m sorry, Elijah. Truly. The world deserves better than what I brought into it.”
Elijah gave Cain a warm smile. “Cain, thank you for giving me my opportunity to help make the world a better place. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend to be stuck fixing it with.”