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.

Pidyon Shvuyim – Bring Them Home – Lekh Lekha 5784

The Masorti Movement in Israel, along with the Conservative Movement here, has designated this Shabbat as Solidarity Shabbat. We stand with Israel and all the victims of the terrible attack against our brothers and sisters three weeks ago and the ongoing war. We unite in the face of hatred and proclaim our love and pride as Jews.

This Shabbat is also the fifth anniversary of the massacre at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, the worst attack against Jews in the history of the United States. We remember the lives of those who were murdered then.

The massive increase in antisemitic and anti-Israel incidents in the United States, including some violence, are bringing up a lot of fear and anxiety here at home. We must always remain proud of being Jewish, proud of our tradition, and proud of our extended family. 

Parashat Lekh Lekha begins the story of the Jewish people. It is the story of a family struggling to find its place in the world. Avram and Sarai Follow the Divine command to a new land with a promise that it will one day become home to their descendants. They themselves are wanderers, struggling to find a place, to find peace.

Their situation is tenuous in the early years. They wander. They experience famine and become economic migrants. They eventually begin to prosper as nomads, but do not have access to sufficient land, forcing Avram and his nephew Lot to go separate ways. Lot pitches his tents outside the city of Sodom, in the verdant Jordan River valley, while Avram settles at the Terebinths of Mamre, near Hebron.

One day, a refugee comes to town with news that is of interest to Avram. A confederacy of Kings from the East came to attack five cities in the Jordan River valley, including S’dom. The leaders of those cities hid in caves, but the cities themselves were plundered, and Lot, his household, and all of his possessions were taken captive.

Without hesitation, Avram jumps into action, assembling a force comprised of 318 retainers from his own household. They travel a long distance, all the way to Dan, which is located in the northern Galilee, about 250 km away. Avram and his forces attack at night. They defeat the enemy, and pursue them for another 60 km or so, as far as Damascus, in order to rescue Lot, his household, all of his possessions, and the possessions that had been captured from the cities that were attacked. Afterwards, when he returns home with Lot and his family, Avram refuses to keep any of the plunder for himself, even when the kings of the towns offer him a reward: “not so much as a thread or a sandal strap.” All he wants is his nephew.

This is a story in which Avram puts absolutely everything on the line for his family. He puts his own life at risk, the lives of his entire household, and the Divine destiny which he has been following. There is no question, whatsoever, in Avram’s mind as to what he must do. Lot is family, and despite any differences they may have had in the past, he must be saved.

This story serves as the paradigm of the mitzvah of pidyon shvuyim, redeeming of captives. It is a religious obligation to every one of us to rescue our fellow Jew from captivity. Listen to how Maimonides describes this commandment.

The redemption of captives receives priority over sustaining the poor and providing them with clothing. [Indeed,] there is no greater mitzvah than the redemption of captives. For a captive is among those who are hungry, thirsty, and unclothed and he is in mortal peril.

To emphasize how significant redeeming captives is, Maimonides goes on to list all of the mitzvot that a person violates if they fail to act. First come the negative commandments:

If someone pays no attention to his redemption, he violates the negative commandments: “Do not harden your heart or close your hand” (Deuteronomy 15:7 , “Do not stand by when the blood of your neighbor is in danger” (Leviticus 19:16 , and “He shall not oppress him with exhausting work in your presence” (ibid. 25:53).

Next, Maimonides lists the positive commandments that a person violates if they fail to act:

And he has negated the observance of the positive commandments: “You shall certainly open up your hand to him” (Deuteronomy 15:8), “And your brother shall live with you” (ibid. 19:18), “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18), 

In total, Maimonides lists six distinct mitzvot from the Torah which all pertain to the obligation of redeeming our fellow Jews who are taken captive. Then, to put an exclamation on the matter, he concludes with a quote from Proverbs:

“Save those who are taken for death” (Proverbs 24:11) , and many other decrees of this nature. There is no mitzvah as great as the redemption of captives. 

Maimonides, Gifts to the Poor 8:10

Maimonides’ description of pidyon shvuyim feels personal. And we know that these are not mere words. Jewish history is filled with examples of communities setting absolutely everything aside to free their fellow Jews. Throughout the middle ages and into modern times, Jewish organizations were established to raise funds to ransom captured Jews. When sufficient local funds could not be raised, fundraisers were undertaken to collect money from Jews living abroad.

A 16th century French traveler expressed surprise that, during his travels throughout the Ottoman Empire, where slavery was legal, he never encountered any enslaved Jews. Explaining this surprising discovery, he wrote that Jewish solidarity “never permitted one of their people to remain in servitude.”

So it should not surprise any of us to witness how Jews all over the world, religious and secular, Israeli and non-Israeli, have mobilized to demand that the approximately 220 Israelis taken captive be brought home now. 

Sadly, terrorists know how personal it is for Jews, how hard we will work for the release of Jewish hostages, how high a price we will be willing to pay. For decades, they have taken hostages to further their aims.

Hamas and their ilk are a cult of death. They celebrate suicide bombers, use their own people as human shields, and rejoice over the murder, rape, and torture of civilians.

The commandment to redeem captives is indicative of how much Judaism values life. We cannot rest until captive Jews are freed.

Halakhah (Jewish law) on redeeming captives developed at a time when Jews were living as minorities without the capacity to rescue captives. So the Jewish laws deal mainly with paying ransoms, trying to walk the tightrope between rescuing Jews and not encouraging further hostage taking. But Avram offers us a more forceful example: a man who acted with conviction and purpose to rescue family. 

By now, I am sure you know all about the current situation. There are approximately 220 hostages, among them 30 children, even babies. Four hostages have been released. One of those who was taken is named Omer Neutra. Born and raised in the United States to parents from Israel, he celebrated his Bar Mtzvah at Midway Jewish Center in Syosset, New York. He went to Young Judea summer camp and was a counselor at Camp Ramah Day Camp in Nyack. Omer was the Regional President of METNY USY, and was captain of his soccer, volleyball and basketball teams at the Schechter School of Long Island. After high school, Omer took a gap year, and then decided to put off university and enlist in the IDF as a Lone Soldier. He became a tank commander.

Omer is believed to be one of the more than 220 souls taken captive by Hamas on October 7. Omer turned 22 two weeks ago. As is his family custom, his parents,  Orna and Ronen, and his brother Daniel, had a cake for Omer with 23 candles – 1 extra. They did not blow out the candles. They let them melt into the cake while they recited prayers for their son.

This Shabbat, we set a symbolic seat for Omer in our shul, and pray for his freedom and the freedom of all our brothers and sisters in captivity and distress.

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.

Becoming That Kind of Person – Vayera 5774

Parshat Vayera begins with Abraham sitting in his tent, during the hottest part of the day.  Last week’s parshah ended with Abraham performing a brit milah on all of the male members of the household, including himself.

The midrash connects them together, explaining that it is the third day after Abraham circumcised himself, at 100 years of age.  This is when the pain of the recovery is most intense.

So there he is, sitting in his tent.  It’s hot.  He’s in pain.  He looks up, and he see three distant figures approaching.

So what does he do?  Remember, this is the Middle East.

He does not reach for his shotgun.  He does not turn the other way, and pretend he didn’t see them.  He does not send one of his able-bodied servants to go find out who they are.

No, he rushes out to greet them.  He bows to the ground, and insists that they come in to rest.

“You must be tired, come in for a while.  Relax in the shade.  Wash your feet.  Have something to eat and drink.”

The three men agree, and Abraham starts rushing about, instructing household to to prepare food and drink for them.  He slaughters a calf himself.  While they are eating, Abraham stands before them, waiting on them like a servant.

Abraham’s behavior is remarkable.  While there is a code of hospitality in the Middle East,  Abraham goes above and beyond it.  It is not only that Abraham and Sarah had an “open-door” policy, welcoming visitors to their home.  They practiced radical hospitality.

This is not normal behavior.  Most of us, if we were recuperating from surgery, would not want to throw a dinner party and invite all our friends, not to mention strangers.  The kind of person who practices radical hospitality is the kind of person who has that quality down to his core.  Abraham is that kind of guy.

How does a person get like that?

Well, there is the rare person, like Abraham, who is simply born with that kind of generous spirit  But for most of us, it takes education from an early age.

Perhaps that explains the blessing that comes at the end of Abraham’s encounter with the three men, who turn out to have been angels.

“I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right, in order that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what He has promised him.”  (Genesis 18:19)

Character is built through education.  Part of God’s blessing to Abraham is a charge to instructs his children so that they become “that kind of person.”

What does it mean to be children of Abraham?  To serve.  To recognize that our obligations to others go beyond the narrow circles of our families and friends.  It extends to people we don’t know.  It may even extend to people who hold different values than us.

Two of the angels leave Abraham’s presence, and Abraham is left talking with God.  God reveals the plan to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, two depraved cities whose wickedness has provoked God’s anger.

Abraham boldly responds to God’s revelation with a challenge.  “Ha-shofet kol ha-aretz lo ya-aseh mishpat?  Shall the judge of all the earth not perform justice?”  This begins Abraham’s pleading with God to save the wicked people of Sodom and Gomorrah on account of the merit of 50, then 45, 40, 30, 20, and finally just 10 righteous people living among them.  Abraham is making this argument on behalf of people who do not share his values, people who probably deserve the punishment that God is about to mete out against them.

Indeed, Abraham has lived up to the blessing that God has just bestowed upon him.

As Jews, we look to Abraham as our Patriarch.  God’s covenant with him, and Abraham’s behavior, model for us the kind of role we are asked to have in the world.  And the message is that our compassion towards others, our concern for justice, must not be limited to our own.  It is clear from both of these stories that compassion must extend to people outside the circles of our families and friends.  Our pursuit of justice must reach those who do not necessarily share the same values and beliefs as us.

As Abraham’s descendants, we are asked to instruct our collective children about was is just and right.  The goal is to turn them into the kind of people who would rush out of their homes to take care of someone whom they did not know, or stand up to shout for compassion and justice on behalf of others.

That kind of training happens when we surround the next generation by a community that expresses those values through action on a regular basis.

The Torah subtly demonstrates how this kind of moral education can be successful.  One chapter later, the scene shifts to the city of Sodom.  Abraham’s nephew Lot happens to live there.  Lot’s father had died young, and so he grew up in Abraham and Sarah’s household, where he was raised by his Aunt and Uncle.  He must have learned something by their example.

When two of the three angels that had visited Abraham continue their travel, they go to Sodom.  This is how the Torah describes what happens when they get there:

“The two angels arrived in Sodom in the evening, as Lot was sitting in the gate of Sodom. When Lot saw them, he rose to greet them and, bowing low with his face to the ground, he said, ‘Please, my lords, turn aside to your servant’s house to spend the night, and bathe your feet; then you may be on your way early.'”  (Genesis 19:1-2)

It seems that Lot learned a lot growing up in his aunt and uncle’s home.  He has become the kind of person who practices radical hospitality.  God’s blessing of Abraham was well-placed.  May we live up to it.