This week’s Torah commentary from Hebrew Seminary has been sponsored by Alan Gotthelf in memory of David Prager, a talented individual and a dedicated Jew.
To sustain Hebrew Seminary’s work of bringing the words of the Torah to life, please consider sponsoring an upcoming Torah commentary through your gift of any amount.
* * *
Oil, Greed, and Hate Meet God: Commentary on Parashat Lekh Lekha 5785
By Rabbi Jonah Rank, Rosh Yeshivah of Hebrew Seminary
A lot of folks say, “I’m not really into politics.” My response is, “You may not be into politics, but politics is into you.”
– Stacey Abrams on WUWM, Milwaukee’s NPR; September 21, 2021
An unstable political regime interrupts this week’s Torah reading. While most of Genesis 12:1-25:7 relates scenes and statistics from the life and times of Abram (renamed Abraham in Genesis 17:5) and those close to him, a nearby regional war overwhelms Genesis 14, and Abram and his family are nowhere to be found for over a decade of narrative. The first great monotheistic protagonist of the Book of Genesis and the progenitor of the Israelite people disappears as the land God showed him falls victim to tribal warfare.
Genesis 14:1-2 introduces us to four allied kings–Amrafel of Shin’ar, Aryokh of Ellasar, Kedorla’omer of Eylam, and Tid’al of Goyim–who went to battle against five kings–Bera of Sedom (סְדֹ֔ם, “Sodom”), Birsha of Amorah (עֲמֹרָ֑ה,“Gomorrah”), Shin’av of Admah, Shem’ever of Tzevoyim, and the unnamed king of Bela. The latter five of these kings banded together as a united oppositional front and took up residence at Emek HaSiddim (עֵ֖מֶק הַשִּׂדִּ֑ים, “The Valley of Bitumen”), which the Torah identifies as Yam HaMelach (יָ֥ם הַמֶּֽלַח, “The Sea of Salt,” known commonly in English as the Dead Sea) (Genesis 14:3). Over time, Kedorla’omer ruled as the preeminent sovereign above them all (or at least above the four allied kings) for twelve years, until a rebellion broke out (Genesis 14:4). In the fourteenth year of this chaos, Kedorla’omer and his allies attacked (presumably minority) nations of whom the Torah and archaeology tell us very little: the Refa, the Zuz, the Em, and the Chor peoples (Genesis 14:5-6). This rampage with no stated reason resumed upon Kedorla’omer’s–and his cronies’–way back home as these allied forces struck the peoples of Amalek and Emor (Genesis 14:7). Although the Torah states no motivation–perhaps the oppositional front felt vengeful after hearing of the harsh attacks on the Amalekites and Emorites–the five-king opposition at Emek HaSiddim attacked the four allied kings (Genesis 14:8-9). After Emek HaSiddim had served as home to the opposition for all these years, two rulers from the opposition all but accepted Emek HaSiddim as their final resting place; Genesis 14:10 begins:
וְעֵ֣מֶק הַשִּׂדִּ֗ים בֶּֽאֱרֹ֤ת בֶּאֱרֹת֙ חֵמָ֔ר וַיָּנֻ֛סוּ מֶֽלֶךְ־סְדֹ֥ם וַעֲמֹרָ֖ה וַיִּפְּלוּ־שָׁ֑מָּה וְהַנִּשְׁאָרִ֖ים הֶ֥רָה נָּֽסוּ׃
At Emek HaSiddim there were wells upon wells of chemar. The king of Sedom and of Amorah fled and fell there.
Though Genesis 18:26-19:29 details the later fall of the cities of Sedom and Amorah, the leaders themselves experienced what appears to be their own nearly-fatal falls, descending shammah (שָׁ֑מָּה, “there”), seemingly into the very wells of Emek HaSiddim. Before these two fallen kings had hidden away in these reservoirs, something that the Torah calls chemar (חֵמָ֔ר) had permeated these pits. Literarily speaking, chemar is a rare natural resource, appearing in the Hebrew Bible only here and in Genesis 11:3 and Exodus 2:3. The ancient Greek version of these texts, the Septuagint, consistently translates chemar as ἄσφαλτος (asfaltos, from which the English word “asphalt” derives); this material is the “bitumen” from which Emek HaSiddim earned its name. By retreating at last into their treasure troves of this much-desired sticky viscous dark substance, the men Sedom and Amorah nearly sacrificed their lives for crude oil–sinking into the viscous petroleum in order to keep their riches away from the enemy.
But these despots’ actions were for nought, according to Genesis 14:11, for their enemies nonetheless “וַ֠יִּקְח֠וּ אֶת־כׇּל־רְכֻ֨שׁ סְדֹ֧ם וַעֲמֹרָ֛ה וְאֶת־כׇּל־אׇכְלָ֖ם וַיֵּלֵֽכוּ׃” (“took all of the wealth of Sedom and Amorah and all of their food and went their way”). The four allied kings captured not only loot but also Lot, Abram’s nephew, who had resided in the city of Sedom (Genesis 14:12). After Abram had heard that his brother’s son had been taken hostage, Abram and his private militia struck Kedorla’omer and his regal allies and recaptured the stolen persons and property, to return each to where they belonged (Genesis 14:13-24). In return for our hero’s kindness, the king of Sedom did offer Abram to keep the possessions, but Abram declined, saying “וְלֹ֣א תֹאמַ֔ר אֲנִ֖י הֶעֱשַׁ֥רְתִּי אֶת־אַבְרָֽם׃” (“You shall not say, ‘I made Abram rich’”) (Genesis 14:23).
Abram’s relationship to the world around him drastically contrasts with the attitudes upheld by the leaders Abram encountered in Genesis 14. Whereas the leaders around him took comfort in entering war with no stated purpose, Abram focused his brief military career on the singular mission of returning hostages and stolen property. Nowhere else does the Torah make reference to Abram joining or assigning any military campaign. Moreover, we must ponder what justification could have inspired the war of the four kings against the five kings–or the raids of the allied kings against the Refa, Zuz, Em, Chor, Amalekite, and Emorite peoples. When no known threat exists, a war begins with a scapegoat or some other form of sin’at chinnam (שנאת חנם, “baseless hatred”) directed falsely at a whole people. Sometimes such a war may begin for the sake of protecting one’s own people at a time when one tribe living amidst economic ruin finds itself competing daily for access to limited food, land, or supplies. The Torah in fact attests to so severe a supply shortage that Abram and Lot had felt when they had lived side by side that “וַֽיְהִי־רִ֗יב בֵּ֚ין רֹעֵ֣י מִקְנֵֽה־אַבְרָ֔ם וּבֵ֖ין רֹעֵ֣י מִקְנֵה־ל֑וֹט” (“there was a fight between the shepherds of Abram’s herd and the shepherds of Lot’s herd”) (Genesis 13:7). Abram, however, upon hearing the first rumblings of this rumble, immediately suggested to his nephew, “אַל־נָ֨א תְהִ֤י מְרִיבָה֙ בֵּינִ֣י וּבֵינֶ֔ךָ וּבֵ֥ין רֹעַ֖י וּבֵ֣ין רֹעֶ֑יךָ כִּֽי־אֲנָשִׁ֥ים אַחִ֖ים אֲנָֽחְנוּ׃” (“Let there not be a fight between you and me or between my shepherds and your shepherds, for we are fraternal people”) (Genesis 13:8). Advised that they divvy up the land, Lot and Abram made peace by agreeing to settle in different regions (Genesis 13:9-12).
When Abram’s first recorded encounter with God set him on a spiritual and physical journey (Genesis 12:1-4), God had made no mention of riches, sustenance, or any natural resources. When a famine hit the land that God had shown Abram, Abram did leave for Egypt (Genesis 12:10), and Abram happened to have become wealthy along the way (Genesis 13:2), but affluence had never been the goal of Abram’s quest. Meanwhile, with deep ties to the land of Sedom, where Lot had eventually settled (Genesis 13:12), the opposition clung tightly to the incredible wealth of pitch it had drawn from the earth. Sedom and Amorah personified were ready to lie down in the bitumen and die in it, just to keep this critical resource out of the hands of the wrong people.
From the little details we know of this political catastrophe, it is hard to know which faction would most deserve compassion from an Abrahamic heart. We sense that the kings in hiding in Emek HaSiddim feared that their most valuable resources were liable to be stolen, and we wonder if Emek HaSiddim housed vulnerable underdogs. Still, the five kings of this oppositional bloc counted among their ranks Sedom and Amorah, whose names were synonymous with the two most notoriously sinful towns in the land (Genesis 18:20). At the same time, with the unjustified violence, looting, and kidnapping enacted by the four allied kings, what reasoning, if any, might move us to root for Kedorla’omer’s wellbeing? Because politics makes for strange bedfellows, when Abram saved his nephew, his magnanimity led him to rescue all the people and property stolen away from Sedom. Later in life, Abram would again find himself in the sticky situation of defending Sedom. It was Abram who advocated that God allow the city of sin to remain intact so long as just a few righteous people might still live there and thereby redeem the evil in the midst of Sedom (Genesis 18:23-33). Abram’s political ally was neither perfect nor righteous, but this flawed opposition experienced a victimhood to which Abram could relate, if only briefly–for he would soon discover, in Genesis 19, that God could not count enough souls in Sedom worthy of redemption. The very name Sedom, in meaning approximately “Tar them with bitumen,” reveals a single-minded tribal slogan expressing a greed that defined the peoples’ excesses. In sealing Sedom’s fate though, not with tar, but with an all-consuming fire, God delivered a certain poetic justice to the city of Sedom.
Neither sin’at chinnam nor the urge to steal from others constitutes a proper Jewish disposition towards the world; we are not the people of Kedorla’omer. Likewise, greedily hogging valuable resources and caring more about our properties than our people deviates from any proper path of Jewish ethics; we are not the people of Sedom. Abram’s imperfect quest for spiritual fulfillment in a morally corrupt political atmosphere can inspire us to follow the best of a philosophy he modeled: Deep religious meaning and a caring kind of cultural transformation may emerge when we insist on raising the bar of the ethical standards in an imperfect world, when we do the right thing, even when nobody else does. Nearly two millennia ago, in Mishnah, Avot 2:5, Rabban Gamli’el taught, “וּבְמָקוֹם שֶׁאֵין אֲנָשִׁים, הִשְׁתַּדֵּל לִהְיוֹת אִישׁ” (“In a place where there are no virtuous people, strive to be a virtuous person”). If we ever find ourselves in moments when we cannot recognize a leader whose moral character we value, we follow Abram and raise the banner ourselves; we demonstrate to the world the necessity of holy living and ethical conduct. We believe, after all, that sacred conduct and altruism will have positive ripple effects on the world, just as Ben Azzai taught nearly two millennia ago in Mishnah, Avot 4:2: “שֶׁמִּצְוָה גּוֹרֶרֶת מִצְוָה” (shemmitzvah goreret mitzvah, “for one mitzvah yields another mitzvah”). When we publicly strive for holiness and righteousness, the world may follow.
* * *
Every week, Hebrew Seminary publishes words of contemporary Torah commentary, linking the words of our past to the values of our here and now. Committed to making Jewish life accessible, Hebrew Seminary’s weekly Torah commentary allows readers around the world to nourish their neshamot (“souls”) with words of Torah composed by Hebrew Seminary’s students, faculty, graduates, and friends.