Thanks, It’s Not Enough – Vayetze 5784

This Shabbat of Thanksgiving weekend carries with it special significance. Fifty Israeli hostages are in the midst of being released as we speak. We must be grateful for their freedom, and pray for their and their families’ healing from the harm—physical, psychological, and emotional—that they have suffered after more than 40 days in captivity.

While feeling gratitude, we must also cry out that it is not enough. We want more. The remaining 190 hostages must be returned home. Israelis fleeing from the northern and southern borders, from the shadow of Hamas and Hezbollah rockets, must be able to go back and live in peace. Antisemitism around the world must end.

It is difficult to celebrate in the midst of loss and fear.

This morning’s Torah portion, Vayetzei, can be seen as a second beginning to the story of our Jewish family. You’ll remember that Abraham’s journey begins when God instructs him to leave his land, his birthplace, his father’s home, and embark on a journey to a new land. As Abraham and Sarah set off, he is already a wealthy man, the head of a great household.

As our parashah opens, Jacob begins his journey in the opposite direction. Like his grandfather, Jacob is leaving his land, his birthplace, and his father’s home. He is going back to Haran, however, away from the Promised Land. He leaves with nothing but the shirt on his back.

God appears to Jacob in his famous dream at the top of a ladder, upon which angels are rising and descending.

I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac: the ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring. 

Your descendants shall be as the dust of the earth; you shall spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants. 

Remember, I am with you: I will protect you wherever you go and will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.

Awaking, Jacob declares, “Surely the Lord is present in this place, and I did not know it.” Then Jacob makes a vow, incorporating much of what God has just promised him:

If God remains with me, if He protects me on this journey that I am making, and gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, 

and if I return safe to my father’s house—the LORD shall be my God. 

And this stone, which I have set up as a pillar, shall be God’s abode; and of all that You give me, I will set aside a tithe for You.

It is a standard vow formula. Note what Jacob asks for from God: protection on his journey and the eventual safe return to his home. No time frame is given, but Jacob promises allegiance and tithing to God if these conditions are met.

How does it play out? Jacob makes his way to the house of his uncle, Laban. Let’s fast-forward through the next twenty two years. Jacob marries Leah and Rachel, has twelve children with them and their two handmaidens, Bilhah and Zilpah.

He works the entire time for his uncle Laban, whom he makes fabulously wealthy. Despite Laban trying to cheat Jacob, Jacob still manages to prosper himself as well. We learn that God has been taking care of Jacob this entire time, ensuring that Jacob will be successul despite the adverse conditions under which he  lives.

Finally, the time arrives for Jacob to return home. Consulting with his wives, Leah and Rachel urge him to make the journey as well. They know exactly what kind of men their father (and their brothers) are. So Jacob sneaks away with his household while Laban is off shearing sheep.

Laban takes off in hot pursuit. This is where I’d like to return to the details of the story. Observe how Laban treats Jacob, the assumptions he makes about him.

Before reaching Jacob, God appears to Laban in a dream with a warning: “Beware of attempting anything with Jacob, good or bad.”

Overtaking Jacob, Laban accuses his son-in-law of carrying off his daughters like “captives of the sword.” He insists that he would have sent Jacob off with a great party, but then flexes his muscles: “I have it in my power to do you harm; but the God of your father said to me last night, ‘Beware of attempting anything with Jacob, good or bad.’”

It turns out, that is exactly what Jacob was afraid of: “I was afraid because I thought you would take your daughters from me by force.”

Jacob complains to Laban that he has been duplicitous and manipulative the entire time that Jacob has spent with him, changing his wages constantly. If not for God’s protection, Jacob would be returning empty-handed, exactly as he had arrived 22 years earlier.

Consider next how Laban responds and what it says about how he really feels about Jacob:

The daughters are my daughters, the children are my children, and the flocks are my flocks; all that you see is mine. Yet what can I do now about my daughters or the children they have borne? 

Come, then, let us make a pact, you and I, that there may be a witness between you and me.

Laban does not want to recognize Jacob as an equal, as the head of a household, as a political entity in his own right. He does not respect Jacob’s marriage to Leah and Rachel, nor the possessions that he earned fair and square. If it were up to him, Laban would take it all for himself.

The only factor that brings Laban to the negotiating table, or the negotiating pillar, as it were, is God’s protection. Or, put a different way, Jacob’s power. Jacob is negotiating from a position of strength.

They assemble a pillar and a mound and strike a treaty, each side promising not to cross past the location, that is to say, the border, with ill intent. Now Jacob can return home. 

It seems to me that this story captures much of the experience of the Jewish people for the past two thousand years. Alone in the world, mistreated and taken advantage of by more powerful neighbors. Somehow managing to keep going despite it all, and only earning our seat at the table through strength. And let’s be clear, Jacob’s power is not one of military might. His is a spiritual strength and a cleverness, an understanding of human behavior and motivations.

As we tell the story of our people over the past two thousand years, we point to these qualities to explain how our ancestors managed to retain their identity despite so much oppression and persecution.

The past seventy five years has seen a change. For the first time since the Maccabees, Jews have been able to bring our physical might into the world. The state of Israel has survived, and thrived, because it has retained the spiritual and intellectual cleverness of Jacob, while adding military power.

As it turns out, that is what other nations respect. It is what has brought enemies to the negotiating table in the past.

The forces that would deny us are still loud. So called Anti-Zionism is nothing more than Laban telling Jacob “The daughters are my daughters, the children are my children, and the flocks are my flocks; all that you see is mine.” He denies Jacob’s right to be a political entity. There is no convincing Laban to see Jacob differently. But he can be forced to come to the negotiating table. Jacob is prepared to negotiate when he does. 

Returning to the beginning, has God’s promise to Jacob been fulfilled? God has protected Jacob during his exile. He has blessed him with wealth and family. He is now poised to reenter the Promised Land. We know that as the story continues, Jacob’s position will remain tenuous, and he will continue to struggle for recognition and respect for the rest of his life. He is grateful to God, and he wants—and demands—more.

This is where we still find ourselves. God’s promise is incomplete. Whether in the land or outside of it, we continue to struggle against those who deny our right to exist.

As for the return of our hostages, our Jewish family, such negotiations only succeed from a position of strength. It is not for me to judge whether the price was worth paying. I trust that those who make these decisions have more information than any of us.

Regardless, it is a time for thanks and relief, as well as for saying, “it is not enough,” redoubling our efforts to bring home those who remain in captivity. 

The Problem with the Story of Sodom and Gomorrah – Vayera 5784

I have a problem with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah.

It is a story that is set up to be about Justice and righteousness. Those are the words that are used repeatedly over the course of the narrative.

Let’s review the story in broad outlines, so we know what we are talking about. God sees the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and that they are evil, and decides to completely annihilate them. But first, God consults with Abraham. God reveals the plan. Abraham then argues on behalf of the cities. There may be innocent people there. In the end, not even ten can be found, and the cities are destroyed.

When we look at a story in the Torah, we have got to accept the way that the story is told, and the facts that the Torah presents, as being very deliberate. It is trying to tell us something, and so we have got to be true to the text when we approach and try to analyze it.

What are the starting assumptions?

First. Abraham has been singled out to instruct his children to “keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and what is right—la’asot tzedakah umishpat.” (18:19) That is why God consults with Abraham.

Second. The cities are evil – so evil that God determines that the only course is to destroy them entirely, to literally turn them upside down. “The outrage of Sodom and Gomorrah is so great, and their sin is so grave.” (18:20) Justice demands that they be punished.

What is Abraham’s argument?

He argues that the presence of a few righteous individuals is sufficient to reverse the decree against a city that, in the eyes of God, is entirely wicked. Abraham starts with 50 innocent people. “Will You then wipe out the place and not forgive it for the sake of the fifty righteous individuals who are in it?” (18:24)

Throughout, in his description of the people living in Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham uses the langague of tzadik and rashah: Righteousness in opposition to wickedness. Abraham’s argument is that it is unjust to bring the same punishment upon the righteous as upon the wicked. Collective punishment is wrong.

God agrees to follow Abraham’s basic premise. Over the course of their discussion, Abraham drops the number down from fifty until he eventually settles at ten. Also, God uses three different terms to express God’s willingness to not destroy the cities: nasa’ti – I will lift [their iniquity]; lo e’eseh – I will not do it; lo ashḥit – I will not destroy.

The argument that Abraham is bringing to God is that mercy should overcoming justice.

Notice that God and Abraham are making inverse arguments. 

God says: I’ll wipe out everyone because of the preponderance of evil people – This is justice taking precedence over mercy.

Abraham says: You should save everyone because of the minority of good people – This is mercy taking precedence over justice.

I would argue that there are some major gaps in their arguments. 

One. There is no call for repentance.  Just like with Noah, it does not even occur to Abraham to walk down the mountain to Sodom and Gomorrah to speak with the people themselves.

This is a successful tactic, after all. Think of Jonah, the most successful prophet in the Bible. God sends him to the people of Nineveh, who are also described as completely evil, all the way down to the livestock. Jonah’s mission, which he tries to avoid at all possible costs, is to call upon them to change their ways, to repent, so that they earn their own salvation.

And it works! Perfectly, to Jonah’s dismay.

Does Abraham have such a low opinion of the residents of Sodom and Gomorrah as to think that they are irredeemable?

Should he not have given them an opportunity to save themselves?

Here is my second problem with this story. Abraham is only partially concerned with justice. Justice is the premise that people get what they deserve.

Consider that if Abraham succeeds, two whole cities filled almost entirely with wicked people are going to get away with it. What then of their future victims? Will Abraham bear any responsibility? That does not sound like justice to me. With too much mercy, wickedness thrives. If we forgive too readily, we allow evil to spread.

How does the story end? Abraham goes to bed that night feeling good about himself. He is confident that the has saved the people of Sodom and Gomorrah by bargaining God down: the presence of just ten righteous people will save the cities. Mercy wins over justice.

When he wakes up and walks to the overlook from which he can gaze down upon the plain, he is surprised to see a smoking ruin. There were not even ten righteous people.

Meanwhile, God has taken it upon Godself to save the few innocent people: Lot, his wife, and two daughters. 

The coda to the story is strange: “Thus it was that, when God destroyed the cities of the Plain and annihilated the cities where Lot dwelt, vayizkor Elohim et Avraham—God rememberd Abraham and removed Lot from the midst of the upheaval.” (19:29)

What does it mean in this text to say that God remembered Abraham? This result does not resemble anything that they have discussed. It is, however, the solution that is the perfect execution of justice. The wicked are punished and the innocent are saved.

Maybe that is what Abraham should have demanded from God in the first place. Save the innocent. Bring them out, and then do what You are going to do.

As a model for justice, mercy, the question of collective punishment or collective redemption, this story is overly simplistic. It lacks nuance.

In this particular framework, the Torah depicts people as either wholly righteous or wholly wicked, and this is just not how people are. People are not so black and white.

This is not a story about repentance and reconciliation. It sees people’s character, their morale stature, as static, something that cannot change. Either the presence of the wicked dooms the fate of everyone, or the presence of innocents releases everyone from punishment. There is no nuance here.

These problems strike me as bearing certain similarities to what Israel faces right now.

An evil, unjustifiable act was perpetrated against innocent people by Hamas. I do not think that repentance and eventual reconciliation is a reasonable goal for the estimated 40,000 members of that organization who are hiding underground, often under schools, mosques, and hospitals. But what of the fate of the 2.3 million Palestinians living in Gaza? Many of us have tried to specify that this is a war between Israel and Hamas. Noa Tishby, the Israeli actress who has emerged as a strong voice explaining Israel and fighting against antisemitism and anti-Zionism, describes herself as “pro-Palestinian” and “anti-Hamas.” I identify with that.

But this is messy. How many dead and injured men, women, and children, destroyed homes, and uprooted lives are justified in the mission to eliminate Hamas and rescue the 240 hostages who have been held now for four weeks?

How does one balance justice and mercy in a situation like this? Should one lean towards collective punishment or collective redemption? Can those who commit atrocities be allowed to go free because of the cost to civilians? Is there a way to thread that needle? I do not pretend that there are any easy or obvious moral answers here.

I would just like to point out that the outcome of Abraham and God’s argument over the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah does not resolve the dilemma either, even when it paints people in moral black and white.

My prayer is that those in Israel who are responsible for waging this war are truly aware of these moral dilemmas and are putting them at the forefront of the very difficult decisions that they are forced to make. I wish there was more nuance in the discussions taking place around the country and around the world to recognize how difficult this situation is.