ENG 233
Response 2
14 September 2010
Of all the morality tales contained within the Pentateuch, one of the most curiously ethical narratives involves that of Abraham’s bartering with Yahweh to save Sodom and Gomorrah from destruction because their “sin is so grave” (Gen 18:20). Yet at no point are those sins accounted. Ironically, far more graphic depictions of moral turpitude come from the protagonist’s family rather than from the twin cities of carnal debauchery. So great are the incongruities in the narrative that they could easily call to question if these stories were jokes hidden in plain sight meant for the amusement of just the sort of people they were meant to condemn.
First, Abraham questions Yahweh if it is morally proper to “‘destroy the upright with the guilty’” (18:23), then barters with him: would he “‘not spare the place for the sake of the fifty upright in it?’” (18:24). The bargaining quickly falters as Abraham, perhaps sensing there aren’t that many upstanding people in the town, lowers the number to forty-five, to forty, to twenty, and finally down to ten. Yahweh agrees to spare the cities “‘for the sake of the ten’” (18:32). And yet Abraham does nothing to go about finding even those hypothetical ten upright men; he instead “returned home” (18:33). So here then is a do-gooder who does not even attempt to save the towns he just bargained to be spared.
The narrative then jumps to Sodom itself and Abraham’s nephew Lot, who, for some reason, is portrayed as one of those upstanding citizens Abraham swore must live in the city. And yet Lot’s actions do nothing to convince the reader that he is moral and righteous at all. For instance, as soon as two strangers enter the town he all but begs them to stay at his house. Granted, the reading audience is led to believe these strangers are the angels of the Lord come to rain “brimstone and fire” down upon Sodom (19:24), and as angels, one could presume they know a man’s heart more than his deeds, but still, this is the legendary city of buggery, and here is a man who “pressed [the strangers] so much that they went home with him and entered his house” (19:3) in such a city propositioning other men he does not know. Strictly from the narrative, this could be taken to mean something quite salacious. Once his guests, the strangers are, by terms of era and culture, entitled to honors and protection as guests in Lot’s home. Even so, when the townsfolk come calling on Lot to have “intercourse” with the strangers, we the readers understand this intercourse to be of a sexual, not a verbal nature (19:5). The only difference in the proposition of the townsfolk and of Lot is the apparent position of antagonist and protagonist of the story. When the townspeople press further, Lot says, “‘Look, I have two daughters who are virgins. I am ready to send them out to you, for you to treat as you please,’” with the clear implication that they father is turning them over to be gang raped by a mob in the street (19:8).
Again, within the context of the written narrative, is it a righteous man who would rather see his daughters defiled than to have the strangers—two men—be touched by the sodomites? If readers were to extrapolate merely from this narrative, it could easily be deduced that Lot himself enjoyed the company of strange men, or as Jude records in one of the final books of the New Testament, himself engaged in the town’s penchant for “sexual immorality” and “unnatural lusts” (Jude 1:7).
Strictly from the accounts in the text, rather than deducing that these protagonists are the people whose morality should be emulated, readers would more likely view Abraham as a lazy gambler and Lot himself as a vile sodomite. These two factors combine to call into question the coherence of the narrator relating the story, unless of course, it is all sarcastic irony meant to be taken with a grain of salt.
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Response 2
14 September 2010
The Righteous Offering of Gang Rape
Of all the morality tales contained within the Pentateuch, one of the most curiously ethical narratives involves that of Abraham’s bartering with Yahweh to save Sodom and Gomorrah from destruction because their “sin is so grave” (Gen 18:20). Yet at no point are those sins accounted. Ironically, far more graphic depictions of moral turpitude come from the protagonist’s family rather than from the twin cities of carnal debauchery. So great are the incongruities in the narrative that they could easily call to question if these stories were jokes hidden in plain sight meant for the amusement of just the sort of people they were meant to condemn.
First, Abraham questions Yahweh if it is morally proper to “‘destroy the upright with the guilty’” (18:23), then barters with him: would he “‘not spare the place for the sake of the fifty upright in it?’” (18:24). The bargaining quickly falters as Abraham, perhaps sensing there aren’t that many upstanding people in the town, lowers the number to forty-five, to forty, to twenty, and finally down to ten. Yahweh agrees to spare the cities “‘for the sake of the ten’” (18:32). And yet Abraham does nothing to go about finding even those hypothetical ten upright men; he instead “returned home” (18:33). So here then is a do-gooder who does not even attempt to save the towns he just bargained to be spared.
The narrative then jumps to Sodom itself and Abraham’s nephew Lot, who, for some reason, is portrayed as one of those upstanding citizens Abraham swore must live in the city. And yet Lot’s actions do nothing to convince the reader that he is moral and righteous at all. For instance, as soon as two strangers enter the town he all but begs them to stay at his house. Granted, the reading audience is led to believe these strangers are the angels of the Lord come to rain “brimstone and fire” down upon Sodom (19:24), and as angels, one could presume they know a man’s heart more than his deeds, but still, this is the legendary city of buggery, and here is a man who “pressed [the strangers] so much that they went home with him and entered his house” (19:3) in such a city propositioning other men he does not know. Strictly from the narrative, this could be taken to mean something quite salacious. Once his guests, the strangers are, by terms of era and culture, entitled to honors and protection as guests in Lot’s home. Even so, when the townsfolk come calling on Lot to have “intercourse” with the strangers, we the readers understand this intercourse to be of a sexual, not a verbal nature (19:5). The only difference in the proposition of the townsfolk and of Lot is the apparent position of antagonist and protagonist of the story. When the townspeople press further, Lot says, “‘Look, I have two daughters who are virgins. I am ready to send them out to you, for you to treat as you please,’” with the clear implication that they father is turning them over to be gang raped by a mob in the street (19:8).
Again, within the context of the written narrative, is it a righteous man who would rather see his daughters defiled than to have the strangers—two men—be touched by the sodomites? If readers were to extrapolate merely from this narrative, it could easily be deduced that Lot himself enjoyed the company of strange men, or as Jude records in one of the final books of the New Testament, himself engaged in the town’s penchant for “sexual immorality” and “unnatural lusts” (Jude 1:7).
Strictly from the accounts in the text, rather than deducing that these protagonists are the people whose morality should be emulated, readers would more likely view Abraham as a lazy gambler and Lot himself as a vile sodomite. These two factors combine to call into question the coherence of the narrator relating the story, unless of course, it is all sarcastic irony meant to be taken with a grain of salt.
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