By the time these words reach readers, the results of Israel’s elections will likely be known. Yet whatever the outcome, one familiar feature of the campaign will remain: a deeply divided society in which each side views the other not merely as mistaken, but as a threat to the nation’s very future. Political opponents are cast as dangers to the collective and to the individual, leaving little room for nuance, understanding or the possibility of redemption.
It is precisely against this backdrop that Parashat Vayera offers a profound challenge. Through Avraham Avinu’s extraordinary response to the impending destruction of Sodom, the Torah teaches us how to confront those whose beliefs and conduct stand in stark opposition to our own. Avraham does not deny the gravity of evil, nor does he abandon the demands of justice. Yet neither does he surrender the obligation to seek merit, to plead for others and to explore every possibility of moral repair. His example raises a question that resonates far beyond the biblical narrative: Can we stand firmly for what is right without relinquishing our responsibility toward those with whom we profoundly disagree?
A deeper look at this week’s Torah portion, however, may shed light on how the father of our nation related to those whose views differed radically from his own, and whose conduct was as far removed as east is from west from the path he followed - the path of Hashem, as attested to by the Creator Himself.
To understand this, let us examine the way Avraham Avinu (Abraham our forefather) approached people whom the Torah describes as exceedingly wicked and sinful before Hashem: “Now the people of Sodom were wicked and sinners against Hashem exceedingly" (Genesis 13:13).
Rashi explains the words “wicked" as referring to their physical conduct, “and sinners" as referring to their treatment of other people’s property, and “against Hashem exceedingly" as meaning that they knew their Master yet deliberately rebelled against Him. There are, of course, people who behave wickedly and sinfully in matters between one person and another, yet appear exceptionally pious in their relationship with Hashem. In contemporary language, we might call them hypocritical “tzaddikim" - righteous people in name only.
In fact, the king of Sodom and his allies had fled for their lives and suffered a “total defeat" in their war against the four kings. Avraham Avinu could have viewed this crushing defeat as Heavenly punishment for their corrupt behavior toward their fellow human beings. Yet despite their bitter loss, the people of Sodom learned nothing. They failed to recognize the hand of Hashem in what had happened and did not mend their ways. Eventually, Hashem declared: “The outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is indeed great, and their sin is exceedingly grave."
Their destruction therefore appeared unavoidable, a necessary eradication of evil from the world - as had occurred with the generation of the Tower of Babel, which rebelled against Hashem, and earlier with the generation of the Flood, whose sins included both offenses between humanity and Hashem, such as idolatry, and offenses between people, such as robbery and violence.
Yet immediately before the decree was carried out, two significant developments took place.
The first was that Hashem revealed the decree to Avraham, His beloved. “Shall I conceal from Avraham what I am about to do?" Hashem asked.
After all, these five cities - Sodom and its neighboring towns - were part of the land promised to Avraham. Moreover, Hashem had blessed him with the destiny of becoming “the father of a multitude of nations." The inhabitants of those five cities could therefore be regarded as his children. How, then, could Hashem destroy his children without informing their father, whom He loved?
As Rashi explains, based on the Midrash Tanchuma, although the decree had been issued, “It would not be proper for Me to do this without his knowledge." This does not mean that Hashem sought Avraham’s consent or wished to consult him before acting. Rather, He would not carry out the decree behind Avraham’s back, destroying part of the inheritance intended for him without first informing its rightful owner.
The second development before the decree was implemented was an examination of the situation in its entirety: “I will go down now and see whether they have acted altogether according to the outcry that has come to Me."
Rabbeinu Bachya explains that Hashem was asking whether the people had indeed acted as their accusers claimed, to the extent that they deserved total destruction. If they refused to repent, they would be punished.
The Sforno adds that the words “whether they have acted altogether" indicate that everyone had sinned and that no one stood up to protest - a complete spiritual and moral collapse.
Some commentators place particular emphasis on the punctuation between the words “they have acted" and “altogether," understanding the verse to mean that because they had acted in this manner, their destruction was warranted.
The continuation, “And if not, I will know," is explained in Bereishit Rabbah as meaning that Hashem would make the principle of Divine justice known to the world through the public revelation of their sin and its punishment, so that all humanity would hear and take heed.
Approximately 175 years ago, Rabbi Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel Weiser, known as the Malbim, offered a deeper explanation of the words “I will go down now and see."
Although the decree against Sodom had been issued, the verdict had not yet been finalized. The angels would first examine the conduct of its inhabitants at the very place where the wickedness had occurred. This, the Malbim explains, demonstrates the superiority of Divine justice over human justice.
As King Solomon writes in Ecclesiastes:
“Moreover, I saw under the sun that in the place of judgment, there was wickedness, and in the place of righteousness, there was wickedness. I said in my heart: Hashem will judge the righteous and the wicked, for there is a time for every matter and for every deed" (Ecclesiastes 3:16-17).
Divine judgment differs fundamentally from human judgment. Human judges examine the deed itself and pronounce their verdict accordingly. This is what Solomon means when he refers to “the place of judgment" and the visible wickedness found there.
Hashem, by contrast, examines both the righteous and the wicked, considering the character of the person who acted, the timing and circumstances of the deed, and the surrounding environment in which it took place.
The Malbim illustrates this principle through the case of Sodom. Its inhabitants imprisoned travelers, subjected their guests to acts of sexual perversion and murder, and refused to extend a helping hand to the poor and needy. Judging by the outcry of those who had suffered at their hands, they deserved annihilation.
Yet when the Supreme Judge descended to examine the character of the perpetrators, He would probe their hearts and minds. Were they inherently miserly, habitually withholding assistance from the poor? Had they been overwhelmed by an unmanageable influx of impoverished travelers? Were they living through famine or wartime conditions, when they might have feared that strangers were entering their territory to spy on them?
Or did their behavior stem from pure wickedness and cruelty, prompting them to abuse their guests through perverse sexual acts out of sheer malice, as in the episode of the concubine at Gibeah?
Did they imprison only poor travelers, or did they also prevent wealthy visitors from entering?
Each of these considerations could mitigate the punishment or even alter the verdict.
The Malbim interprets the words of the prophet Ezekiel in this light:
“Behold, this was the iniquity of your sister Sodom: pride, abundant food and tranquil ease were hers and her daughters’, but she did not strengthen the hand of the poor and needy. They became haughty and committed abominations before Me, and I removed them when I saw it" (Ezekiel 16:49-50).
Sodom’s conduct, Ezekiel explains, was not driven by hunger, for its inhabitants enjoyed abundant food. Nor could it be attributed to war or an overwhelming influx of visitors, since they lived in tranquility and security.
Their abominations, too, did not arise merely from physical desire. They were rooted in arrogance - in the desire to humiliate and torment others.
This, the Malbim explains, is the significance of Ezekiel’s words, “I removed them when I saw it," echoing Hashem’s declaration, “I will go down now and see." Only after examining the character of the perpetrators, the timing and the circumstances can the final verdict be reached. If they acted precisely as the outcry alleged, destruction would be warranted. If mitigating circumstances existed, Divine Providence could bring punishment without annihilating them entirely.
Herein lies the superiority of Divine justice over human justice.
Although everything is revealed and known before the One who examines the innermost thoughts of the heart, and Hashem has no need to “descend" and investigate, Rashi emphasizes that this episode offers an invaluable lesson to judges: capital cases must never be decided without direct examination and thorough clarification of the facts. Only through such a process can judges embody Divine morality and influence their generation accordingly, as Rabbi Pinchas Wolf explains in his book Diyukim.
So much for the two developments that preceded the destruction of Sodom.
The first - Hashem’s decision to share the decree with Avraham - leads to the next stage. Despite the Malbim’s detailed explanation of the principles of Divine justice, Avraham Avinu is not satisfied with this alone.
“And Avraham drew near and said…"
Avraham, whom Hashem had designated “the father of a multitude of nations," sees himself as a public defender, particularly when the public includes, as the Hebrew acronym tzabar suggests, the righteous, the average and the wicked. Avraham feels responsible for advocating on behalf of all the inhabitants of the world.
Moreover, Avraham and Sarah had brought their students in Haran closer to repentance and faith, as the Torah describes them as having made “the souls they had made in Haran." Avraham therefore considers it possible that they might also succeed in bringing the inhabitants of Sodom and its neighboring cities back to repentance.
Hashem regards sins between one person and another as especially grave, even in comparison with sins between humanity and Hashem. Nevertheless, Avraham, the embodiment of chesed - lovingkindness - insists on making his case.
The Ralbag offers another perspective on Avraham’s intervention. Avraham was also troubled by the prospect that the most beautiful region of the Land of Israel, now promised to him and his descendants, would be destroyed along with its inhabitants. Would Sodom perish, righteous and wicked alike, taking with it such a magnificent portion of the land?
The Torah describes the Jordan Valley as follows: “Lot lifted his eyes and saw the entire plain of the Jordan, that it was well watered everywhere … like the garden of Hashem, like the land of Egypt, as you go toward Zoar" - before Hashem destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 13:10).
The revelation that Sodom was to be destroyed soon develops into a fascinating, multidimensional dialogue between Avraham and the Almighty. This dialogue takes three forms:
1. Prayer and standing before Hashem: “And Avraham was still standing before Hashem" (Genesis 18:22).
2. Approaching Hashem to offer a defense and plead for mercy: “And Avraham drew near." The Sages teach that the biblical expression vayigash - “and he drew near" - can refer to approaching someone for war, reconciliation or prayer.
3. Appeasement and supplication: “Will You indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" As Rabbi Eliezer teaches in Bereishit Rabbah (49), Avraham was effectively asking: Am I approaching You for war, for reconciliation or for prayer?
When Hashem told Noah, “The end of all flesh has come before Me … make yourself an ark of gopher wood," Noah did not pray on behalf of the wider population.
Avraham Avinu, by contrast, immediately approaches Hashem when He shares with him the “outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah," asking, “Will You indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" This is what is expected of a righteous person who prays for the members of his generation, as explained in the holy Zohar.
This dialogue also stems from the opening verse of the passage concerning Sodom:
“For I have known him, so that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of Hashem, doing righteousness and justice" (Genesis 18:19).
The Divine path combines tzedakah and mishpat - righteousness and justice.
The Sages highlight the inherent tension between these two concepts. On the one hand stands strict justice, the letter of the law; on the other stands tzedakah, which can extend beyond the letter of the law and encompasses compassion, mercy and lovingkindness.
At first glance, these appear to be opposing principles. Justice demands uncompromising truth, while tzedakah seeks correction and mercy.
This combination is also reflected in Hashem’s relationship with Avraham. As the Torah states, “And he believed in Hashem, and He considered it to him as righteousness." The Chizkuni explains that Avraham regarded the promise of descendants as an act of Divine kindness and generosity.
In Tractate Sanhedrin (6b), the Sages discuss how justice and righteousness can coexist in a single act. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korcha answers: “What is justice that contains righteousness? This is compromise."
Avraham therefore turns to Hashem with a question. He is not seeking to excuse the sins of Sodom’s inhabitants. But if the righteous are put to death alongside the wicked, the world may conclude that the Divine approach to justice is simply that the law must be enforced without exception, regardless of the consequences.
“Will the righteous be as the wicked? Far be it from You!" Avraham declares. “Shall the Judge of all the earth not do justice?"
If there is no distinction between the righteous and the wicked, where is the winning combination of tzedakah and mishpat that defines the way of Hashem?
Avraham’s argument - that if even a small number of righteous people live among the wicked, everyone should be spared - is seemingly puzzling. After all, the Creator, whose mercy extends to all His creations, examines matters thoroughly before eradicating evil.
Why, then, did Avraham seek to preserve these wicked people and allow their corrupting influence to continue?
Was he unaware of Sodom’s horrific deeds, including the story of the young woman who was executed in a particularly cruel manner for giving food to a poor man? As the author of Siftei Chachamim elaborates, she was stripped, smeared with honey and left for bees to sting until she died.
This punishment was presumably imposed at the direction of Sodom’s judges, to serve as a warning to others and ensure that no one would dare give charity.
Furthermore, before the Plague of the Firstborn, Moshe told Pharaoh that every firstborn in Egypt would die, “from the firstborn of Pharaoh … to the firstborn of the maidservant … and every firstborn of the animals." Indeed, the firstborn died in every Egyptian household, while the Israelites were spared through a precise distinction between them and the Egyptians.
If Hashem could distinguish between individuals in Egypt, He could surely have rescued the few righteous inhabitants of Sodom while eradicating the wickedness around them. Indeed, that is precisely what ultimately happened when Lot and his daughters were saved.
Why, then, did Avraham ask Hashem to spare the wicked on account of the righteous?
My revered father and teacher, of blessed memory, raises this question in his book Birkat Asher: Are we dealing here with collective responsibility? And even if we are, why should the merit of a few righteous individuals outweigh the wickedness of the majority?
Perhaps Avraham reasoned as the Talmud suggests in Tractate Ta'anit (21b): A city can be saved from destruction through the merit of a righteous person living within it. The Gemara illustrates this principle through an incident in which a plague was halted in a particular district through the merit of a sage who lived there.
Perhaps, too, Avraham believed that just as he and Sarah had brought people closer to Hashem in Haran, a place of idolatry, the few righteous people in Sodom might eventually succeed in bringing its inhabitants back to faith and the Divine path.
I recall once asking my revered teacher, the eminent Rabbi Avraham Elkana Shapira, of blessed memory - former Chief Rabbi of Israel and head of Yeshivat Merkaz Harav - whether it might not be better to pray that a Torah scholar suffering from a severe illness should pass away and thereby be released from his suffering.
His answer was emphatic: No.
The world in which that Torah scholar lives, whatever his circumstances, is not the same as the world in which he is absent. As Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook writes in his book Midbar Shur, as long as the great figures of the world remain alive, the community can accomplish good deeds and resembles a complete vessel. In their absence, we are like a broken vessel (p. 333).
Avraham therefore begins to plead: Perhaps there are fifty righteous people, ten in each city? He then gradually reduces the number. Perhaps there are nine in each city, and they will find an ordinary person willing to join them, completing a quorum?
The author of Imrei Yaakov adds that if these righteous people have resisted the pervasive wickedness around them and have not been swept along by their environment, their merit is all the greater, and they deserve to save those around them.
The Kli Yakar, by contrast, criticizes these righteous individuals for remaining in such a wicked place rather than relocating elsewhere.
Perhaps Avraham’s initial plea was also an indirect appeal on behalf of Lot and his daughters, seeking to save the one righteous individual living in Sodom.
“Will You indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?"
From the perspective of strict justice, why should the righteous perish? From the perspective of mercy, perhaps everyone could be granted kindness in his merit.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev is known as the Sanegor Shel Yisrael, the defender of the Jewish people. In this week’s Torah portion, however, Avraham Avinu emerges as the defender of the entire world.
Yet Avraham is doing more than pleading for mercy. He seeks to understand the way of Hashem.
He had already asked for understanding in Parashat Lech Lecha, when he said, “How shall I know?" Moshe Rabbeinu, too, sought to understand the Divine when, after the sin of the Golden Calf, he asked, “Show me, please, Your glory."
As Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Charlap explains in his commentary on the Rambam’s Shemoneh Perakim, the response, “You shall see My back, but My face shall not be seen," offers us a profound lesson in how to chart our course in a life of holiness.
So, too, Avraham Avinu, after twenty generations of moral decline - from Adam HaRishon, through the generation of the Flood, to the generation of the Tower of Babel - seeks to understand the way of Hashem so that he can teach it in his own study hall and instruct his children to follow it.
This is the continuation of the verse in Genesis 18:19: “For I have known him, so that he may command his children … to keep the way of Hashem, doing righteousness and justice."
Avraham therefore seeks a detailed explanation of how tzedakah and mishpat can be combined in the difficult circumstances presented by Sodom.
In his book Nachalat David, Rabbi David Oppenheim, of blessed memory, who served as rabbinical court head in Tomaszów approximately 220 years ago, offers another interpretation of Avraham’s question, “Perhaps there are fifty righteous people?"
He suggests that Avraham may have been referring to righteous people who depended on the communal treasury for their livelihood. If the wicked were destroyed, who would support and provide for these righteous individuals?
This is an intriguing interpretation, linking Avraham’s first argument - that Divine justice should not deprive the righteous of their livelihood - with his second argument, that their merit could save the city.
However, this explanation appears to presuppose an ideal society far removed from the reality of Sodom. It would require imagining that each of the five cities had ten Torah scholars supported by public funds, a scenario difficult to reconcile with the Sages’ descriptions of Sodom’s wickedness and cruelty toward those who gave charity.
Whatever the precise explanation, the father of our nation teaches us to seek merit on behalf of the entire world and all its inhabitants, whatever their path may be. He shows us how to bring more souls closer to the way of Hashem.