Our tradition grapples with this question in fascinating, sometimes unsettling ways. Take the story of Cain, the firstborn son of Adam and Eve. We all know he murdered his brother Abel, but some stories suggest there's far more to Cain's origin than meets the eye.
One particularly striking tradition claims that Adam wasn't actually Cain's father at all! Instead, the story goes, Samael – often understood as a kind of angelic adversary – rode the serpent in the Garden of Eden and seduced Eve. The result of this union? Cain. This means, according to this view, Cain was not of Adam's seed, not in his likeness, not in his image. It wasn't until Seth was born that Adam finally had a son who truly reflected his own being.
This idea is rooted, in part, in the verses themselves. Genesis 5:3 states, "When Adam had lived one hundred and thirty years, he begot a son in his likeness after his image, and he named him Seth." The implication? Cain, and even Abel, were somehow different. The Zohar, that foundational text of Jewish mysticism, delves into this. Commenting on Eve's words, "I have gained a male child with the help of Yahweh" (Gen. 4:1), the Zohar (1:55a) suggests that Cain and Abel stemmed primarily from Eve, not Adam. Seth, however, did bear Adam's image.
Now, what does this mean for Cain's descendants? Well, some traditions say that Cain's line died out after only seven generations. God, after all, visits "the iniquity of the fathers upon the children" (Exod. 34:7). But other voices within our tradition paint a much darker picture. They claim that the seed of Cain still walks the earth.
Think about it: If Seth is the ancestor of the righteous, then who is the ancestor of the wicked? According to this view, it's Cain. As Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer puts it, "Samael riding on the serpent came to Eve and she conceived." This creates two distinct lineages: those descended from Adam and Seth, and those descended from Cain.
So, who are these descendants of Cain? According to some, they are the enemies of Israel: Amalek, Edom, and even Rome. They are the embodiment of rebellion and sin, forever at odds with the divine. This idea of two distinct lineages – one from Adam, one from Cain – is found in various sources, and is sometimes attributed to figures like Rabbi Ishmael or Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai.
Interestingly, the Babylonian Talmud, in Tractate Shabbat (146a), speaks of the serpent depositing a kind of "pollution" within Eve during that fateful encounter in the Garden. This pollution, it says, passed down to her children and their children. However, when Israel accepted the Torah at Mount Sinai, the seed of Seth was purified of this impurity. But the seed of Cain? Not so much.
This myth, as explored in various Midrashim such as Midrash Rabbah and Midrash ha-Gadol, offers a powerful, if unsettling, explanation for the existence of evil in the world. It's a way of grappling with the question of why some people seem inherently drawn to darkness. In the darkest hours of the 20th century, some even identified the Nazis as the "seed of Cain," a chilling reminder of the enduring power of this ancient story.
What do we make of all this? It's a challenging and complex idea, this notion of a lineage of evil. Is it a literal truth? Probably not. But as a metaphor, it speaks volumes about the ongoing struggle between good and evil, and the enduring legacy of choices made long ago, in a garden, by our first ancestors. It forces us to confront the uncomfortable possibility that evil is not just an external force, but something that can be passed down, nurtured, and amplified through generations. And perhaps, most importantly, it reminds us of the constant need to choose the path of righteousness, to purify ourselves, and to break the cycle of sin.