The passage we just heard [Genesis 18:20-32] from the Old Testament saga of
Abraham takes us back some 4000 years to the heights overlooking the cities of
Sodom and Gomorrah. Those cities now no longer exist, because (so the story
tells us) of the outcry against them
– so different were their citizens from Abraham. Though a recent immigrant himself,
Abraham cared enough for the original native population that he was willing to
plead with God to save them from destruction.
For some, what stands out most
strongly in this story is the picturesque image of Abraham bargaining with God,
as if he were some tourist in some stereotypical middle-eastern market. So
strongly ingrained in the typical tourist mindset is that market stereotype
that, having read their guidebooks, some feel a need to bargain about
everything. I saw that myself in Israel some 2 decades ago. A group of us had
walked to Bethlehem for Mass at the Basilica of the Nativity, but to save time we
decided to take a taxi back. When the drivers stated their fares, some in our
group immediately started bargaining, trying to lower the amount. Meanwhile, I
did a quick currency calculation in my head and said to a priest in the group,
who like me was also from New York, “This taxi costs less than a subway ride
back home. Let’s just get in the cab and go!”
Foreigner though he was, Abraham
was certainly no tourist – a pilgrim perhaps in a land not yet his, but
certainly no tourist. And his relationship with God was anything but commercial
or transitory. Just before today’s account, God who (as we heard last Sunday)
has just experienced Abraham’s generous hospitality, suddenly says he cannot
hide from Abraham what he is about to do, because Abraham is destined to become
a great nation, and all the nations of
the earth shall be blessed in him [Genesis
18:17-18].
In this serious debate in which the fate of civilizations literally hung in the
balance, we witness Abraham already at work anticipating that promised blessing
for all the peoples of the earth.
Abraham is sometimes compared to
Noah, who (at least from what little we know) showed no apparent interest in
his neighbors’ fate. Abraham, in contrast, cared not only for his nephew Lot
and Lot’s family, who were then living in Sodom, but for the whole population
of the doomed cities. For far too many of us, far too often, Noah’s narrow
concern may seem normal. Expanding the boundaries that limit those we care
about, whether those boundaries be national or racial or ethnic or religious or
whatever – expanding them to include others who don’t necessarily look or talk
or act like us – doesn’t happen automatically. It takes effort. Abraham,
however, got it right – right from the beginning. In this he anticipated his
greatest descendant, Jesus, who would intercede with his Father for the entire world.
Sadly, in Sodom’s case, only three
were saved from destruction. Whether Lot deserved to be saved is another
question. He seems to have liked his settled and comfortable life in the
prosperous city and lingered when the time came to leave. But, for Abraham’s
sake, God got him out in time. We often don’t get what we deserve, and thanks
be to God for that!
The fate of those cities has never
been forgotten. The prophet Ezekiel said they were proud, sated with food, complacent in their prosperity, and they
gave no help to the poor and needy [Ezekiel
16:49].
How familiar does that sound? Jesus also used Sodom’s story as a warning. Whoever will not receive you or listen to
your words – he said to his disciples
– it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of
judgment than for that town [Matthew
10:14-15].
In a sense, those corrupt cities
stand for human civilization in its most advanced and successful state of
development, complacently prosperous and comfortable and deserving of judgment
– a salutary warning perhaps for other advanced and successful societies, like
our own, and for us modern Lots who would likewise like to linger complacently
in prosperity and comfort.
But at the same time the story also
suggests that for the sake of just a few innocent people God would have been
willing to spare the cities. Unfortunately there were none to be found there.
If we, undeserving though we are, hope for God’s mercy, that hope rests
entirely in Abraham’s descendant Jesus, through whom all the peoples of the
world have finally been blessed once and for all, and through whom all of us have
been given a lesson in how to imitate Abraham in caring about even those who
neither look nor talk nor act like us.
The way Abraham insistently
interceded for the citizens of Sodom says a lot about the seriousness of his
relationship with God. After all, the way I ask for a favor always says
something significant about my relationship with the one I’m asking the favor
from!
Today’s Gospel [Luke 11:1-13] challenges to ask ourselves about our
relationship with God. Is he a Father who can be counted on to give us that
fish or that egg he knows we need even better that we may know it? A Father,
who will give the Holy Spirit to those
who ask him?
In inviting us to call his
Father our Father, Jesus enables us to enter into a special relationship with
God similar to his own – sufficiently similar that we can confidently pray to
God as frankly and freely as Abraham did and as Jesus still does. In the
process, we may become more like Abraham and ultimately more like Jesus, who by
becoming a blessing for us enables us to join our prayer to his and so become a
blessing for all the peoples and nations of the world.
Homily for the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Church of Saint Anne, Walnut Creel, CA, July 24, 2016.
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