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.

Tzedakah or Selfishness – Vayera 5779

Justice, tzedakah, is one of the recurring themes in this morning’s Torah portion, Vayera.  As God contemplates the fate of the Sodom and Gomorrah, two cities in the Jordan River Valley, God decides to hire a consultant.  

Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do… for I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children… to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right…—tzedakah u’mishpat.

God tells Abraham about the plan to destroy the two cities because of the extreme wickedness of their inhabitants.  Abraham immediately challenges God:  Ha’af tispeh tzadik im rasha  

Will you sweep away the innocent along with the guilty?  What if there should be fifty innocent within the city; will You then wipe out the place and not forgive it for the sake of the innocent fifty who are in it?…  Far be it from You… to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty…

God is convinced, promising “If I find within the city of Sodom fifty innocent ones, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.”

This is just the opening salvo in the negotiation.  Abraham lowers the threshold to 45, then 40, 30, 20, and finally 10 innocent people to save the remainder of the population.  God agrees every time.  

It seems, based on God’s original assessment, that this was the plan all along.  After all, God has already identified Abraham as someone who will pass on the values of tzedakah and mishpat — justice and righteousness — to his children.

It turns out that there are not even 10 righteous individuals in the two cities, leaving God free to carry out the original sentence.  Perhaps if Abraham had gone still lower…  God would probably have agreed.

This story depicts Abraham at his best.  He puts everything on the line for the sake of his fellow human beings.  These particular human beings are the worst of the worst,  but Abraham cannot sit idly by, even for such a depraved population.

Soon afterwards, Abraham and Sarah find themselves the land of Gerar, which is near Gaza.  As in a prior encounter with Pharaoh in Egypt, Abraham passes off his wife, Sarah, as his sister.  So what happens?  The King, Avimelech, thinking that she is single, has Sarah brought into his household.  [She is 89 years old at the time, but never mind.]

Before anything happens, God speaks to Avimelech in a dream.  “You are to die because of the woman you have taken, for she is a married woman!”

Still in the dream, Avimelech defends himself.  “O Lord, will you slay people even though innocent? — ha’goy gam tzadik ta’harog?  Sound familiar?  Avimelech makes the argument with God on his own behalf as Abraham made earlier on behalf of Sodom and Gomorrah.  God agrees, and instructs Avimelech to return Sarah to her husband.

The next day, Avimelech confronts Abraham.  “What did I ever do to you?  You’ve brought disaster upon us.  You have done things to me that ought not to be done!”

Abraham’s response is difficult to hear. “I thought,” he says, “surely there is no fear of God in this place, and they will kill me because of my wife.”  (Gen. 20:11)  Then he offers some weak excuse explaining how Sarah is really his half-sister, and he did not technically lie.  Whether she is his sister or not is irrelevant.  What matters is his hiding the fact that she is a married woman.

Abraham, who had just recently behaved so nobly, now thinks only of himself.  He puts a lot of people in danger.  First of all, Sarah.  As soon as they arrive, she is taken to the palace, presumably to be made part of the harem.  Avimelech is endangered, as even a King is not allowed to be with a married woman.  And finally, because Abraham is, well Abraham, Avimelech’s entire household is stricken with temporary infertility, merely for bringing Sarah in to the palace.  If things had gone further, God’s wrath would have turned lethal.

Abraham assumes the worst of Avimelech and his people.  He condemns them before he even meets them.  But Abraham is wrong.  These are not wicked people.  As it turns out, Avimelech is a God-fearing man, with a sense of justice.  

This story has close parallels to the earlier story.  Only this time, it is Avimelech playing the role of the prophet standing in the breach, arguing for justice against a vengeful God.  In this case, like the previous, God wants to be convinced.  God wants tzedakah, justice, to reign.  God does not want the innocent to suffer the fate of the guilty.  As before, Abraham must personally intercede, praying to God for the health and well-being of Avimelech and his household.  But Abraham’s prayers come only after Avimelech bribes presents him with sheep, oxen, servants, land, and silver.

Abraham does not come out well in this story.  Is this the same person who put everything on the line to argue with God on behalf of people that he knew were wicked?  He is supposed to be the optimist, the one devoted to bringing justice into the world.  He should at least have given Avimelech the benefit of the doubt.

What are we to make of Abraham?  The Torah does not hold back in presenting its heroes as flawed individuals.  They make mistakes.  Sometimes, their opponents have qualities going for them as well.  The underlying theme of these two stories is tzedakah.  God wants justice.  God does not want the innocent to suffer punishments that should be reserved just for the wicked.  And in both stories, it seems that God is not capable of holding back the injustice without human intercession.

Abraham’s abrupt turn from being a justice-hero to behaving with selfishness and distrust teaches us something about the impact that fear can have, even on the best of us.  Abraham is afraid.  He says so himself.  His fear leads him to treat others unfairly, including his own wife.  He succumbs to stereotypes.

And Abraham, remember, is a good man.  He is the one whom God has selected to be a blessing to the world, and to teach his children about justice and righteousness.  If Abraham is susceptible to fear, how much the more so are we!

I don’t think I need to detail the many examples of how fear leads to injustice.  In this case, the victim was King Avimelech, a person in power.  But usually, the ones who are most harmed by fear and distrust are those without power.

The lesson from both stories is that God needs human intercessors to bring tzedakah into the world.  Any of us has the capacity to be such an intercessor, just as any of us has the capacity, through fear, to turn our backs on our brothers and sisters.

As Jews, we take this on as a special obligation, going all the way back to Abraham, whom God selected to “instruct his children… to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right.”

May we always strive to live up to that ideal.