The conversation we just heard between God and Abraham occurs between two stories that may be more familiar. The beginning of chapter 18 is the visit of three strangers to Abraham and Sarah at their tent near the oaks of Mamre. And chapter 19 is the too often misinterpreted story which is known by it’s shorthand name: Sodom and Gomorrah. In between these two stories is the text we look at today: Abraham bargaining with God to save the people of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Abraham and Sarah are old but not so old that they don’t enjoy having visitors. One day, Abraham looks out to see three people approaching their tent. He runs to greet them, as a 99 year old, consummate host will do. He invites the visitors to come rest under the tree. He brings water to wash their feet; he has Sarah make some bread. He even kills the fatted calf – something one does for a celebration or to welcome important people – even though Abraham doesn’t know these strangers. Abraham watches as the strangers eat and then they bring a message to Abraham. One of them says, “In about a year, I will return and Sarah will be holding her baby.”

Sarah is listening from inside the tent and starts to laugh. She is already through menopause, there is no way she will be having a baby. When confronted by the guest about her laughter, Sarah is embarrassed. It is not good hospitality to laugh at a guest so Sarah lies and says, “No, no, no, I didn’t laugh.” But the stranger, who in the text is called the LORD, doesn’t back down. “You. laughed.” (So of course when the impossible happens and Sarah does have a baby, she names him Isaac, meaning “one who laughs.”)

Who are these three strangers that bring the message to Abraham about Sarah? Plenty has been written about them and yet they remain mysterious, maybe even a little fantastical. Is one of the strangers God? Or do the three of them together make up God? Some Christians try to claim that these three are a precursor to the trinity in the New Testament. (Jewish scholars object to that one.) Are these angels, are they emissaries of God?

That the three strangers are mysterious and unknown is probably the point. Abraham’s extravagant welcome to these unknown guests proves that he and Sarah are models of hospitality. And hospitality is about to become very important.

Then the three visitors set out from there, and they looked toward Sodom, and Abraham went with them to set them on their way. (What a good host, walking part way to their destination with them.) 17 The LORD said, (Wait, how did the LORD get here?) The LORD said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, seeing that Abraham shall become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? No, for I have chosen him, that he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of the LORD by doing righteousness and justice, so that the LORD may bring about for Abraham what has been promised him.”

God ponders. “The LORD” is trying to decide how to interact with Abraham. Should God tell Abraham about the horrors that are in store for Sodom and Gomorrah? Or should God just do what God will do? The LORD decides to start a conversation with Abraham. “The cries of injustice from Sodom and Gomorrah are countless, and their sin is very serious! 21 I will go down now to examine the cries of injustice that have reached me. Have they really done all this? If not, I want to know.”

Does God really not know what Sodom has been up to? Is God not all knowing? The way God asks this question, it seems like an invitation for a conversation, even a consultation, with Abraham. It is as if God and Abraham are on the same level. Is this mutual respect between old men with white beards? Is there something to learn about God here? Something about God’s power and knowledge? Or is this just a good story?

At this point, when God is trying to figure out how much to tell Abraham, the three visitors separate. Two of the visitors leave and Abraham is left standing with the third. Abraham has the temerity to ask the LORD whether he really intends to destroy everyone, the righteous and the wicked.

Abraham’s interaction with God is quite different from a few chapters earlier when God tells Noah that God will destroy the whole earth by a flood. Noah doesn’t ask questions. Noah just takes down the dimensions from God for the biggest boat on record and does exactly as God says. But Abraham asks questions and he is not the only biblical figure to challenge God. Job and Jonah also talk back to God; the psalmist complains to God, questions God. It seems okay, maybe it’s even expected, to challenge God.

Here Abraham doesn’t just ask questions, he bargains with God. Somehow, Abraham knows that God is merciful, that God can be bargained with. And so Abraham keeps moving the target number of how many people would need to be righteous in order for God to not destroy the city. The persistent bargaining doesn’t seem to offend God in the least. God does not say, “I am God. How can you even think of questioning me?” Instead God listens, almost inviting a back and forth conversation. Abraham keeps bargaining so that in the end it only takes ten righteous people in the town for the whole lot of them to saved.

This reasonable God doesn’t push back or ask why Abraham is so concerned. (We might remember that Abraham has a nephew, Lot, who lives in Sodom.) God doesn’t accuse Abraham of having a vested interest or playing favorites; God listens.

So what is the accusation of injustice against Sodom and Gomorrah, that has God investigating and Abraham bargaining? The text says the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great and their sin is exceedingly grievous. It is not, as too many churches have taught for too many years, it is not “homosexuality.” The grievous sin of Sodom and Gomorrah is something familiar, we might even think it mundane. We learn in Ezekiel (16) that Sodom had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease but did not aid the poor and needy. Sodom’s reputation of not welcoming strangers, of not taking care of poor people, of not sharing food where it is needed is widely known. And now God has heard the cries and complaints again Sodom and Gomorrah; that is why God is here.

How is it though that God includes Abraham in this decision, in this conversation. Is it the way that Abraham appeals to God’s good side? “It’s not like you to do this, killing the innocent right along with the guilty as if there were no difference. That is just not like you! Will you, the judge of all the earth, not act justly?” Maybe it is the way that Abraham welcomed the three strangers; maybe Abraham’s practice of hospitality opens a way for this conversation with God to take place. The God of justice listens to Abraham and continues to respond in the affirmative, that if there are 50 or even 45, or 40 or 30 or 20 or even just 10 people that are “innocent” the city will not be destroyed.

The Common English Bible says that Abraham pleads for the “innocent” in Sodom and Gomorrah. The NRSVue translation says Abraham pleads for the “righteous” or we might say the “justice seeking” people. To my ears, the word “innocent” sounds so passive. Don’t we want the people to be more proactive than just innocent? But since Abraham acts as a sort of defense attorney for Sodom and Gomorrah, with God as the judge, “Will you, the judge of all the earth, not act justly?” maybe the language of innocence and guilt is appropriate.

Eventually, Abraham convinces God that if there are only 10 innocent people, the town should be saved from destruction. The conversation ends; God and Abraham go their separate ways.

(I am so tempted to go on to chapter 19 where things get more… interesting – and not very family friendly. So I will stop at chapter 18 and you can read on if you are intrigued. I would be glad to discuss it with any of you later.)

I am drawn to this conversation between Abraham and God. The flexibility, humility, and mercy that God demonstrates is in such stark contrast to the would-be king (or God) that is in power in this country. Our contemporary leader will bargain night and day but there is no grace for those who have stepped off, or outside, the lines he has drawn. There is no mercy even though his own mind is erratically changeable.

That we have this ancient text, whose authors understand what it is to live under imperial rule, is somehow a comfort to me. The writers know what it is to live under a capricious and cruel king that is slow to show compassion. Living in an inhumane situation in exile, the writers recognize and claim the compassion of their own God. They reclaim their loyalty to a God of mercy, a God who listens, a God who values hospitality, even receives hospitality. And this same God of Abraham knows the dangers of ignoring mercy and hospitality.

Because hospitality is not only a practice of kindness. Hospitality also opens us up to new possibilities, to new understandings and new ways of doing things. When we open our doors and our hearts, our lives are enlarged, our community expands, possibilities increase. When we hide from those who we might welcome, who we might serve, we find our own faith shrinking. It is too easy to keep digging in the same old dirt, turning it into mud to throw at each other. Insularity and isolationism may feel protective but they do not, in the end, keep us safe. Showing hospitality is a gift and not only for the receivers. It sweetens the life of the givers as well.

I know I am preaching to the choir here – or rather the hospitality committee. This congregation is known for its commitments to hospitality in so many ways – not just casseroles and smiles. And it’s a good thing we have been practicing because there is an opportunity for us right now. We see in real time the Empire creating a place where people of color are kept out; where people who are poor are not given food, health care or respect; where people who speak languages other than English are locked out or locked up; where Christianity – a certain kind of Christianity – is prized above all other faiths; where there is an attempt to erase people who don’t fit the gender binary.

Today, in this country, the freedom to extend hospitality without fear feels like a privilege – because, let’s be clear, some of our neighbors are in real danger and they will not open the door to anyone – for fear it might be ICE. This is all the more reason for those of us who live with little risk to show compassionate hospitality and continue to practice living with open hands and open hearts.

It may sound overly dramatic, but my friends, we are living in Sodom and Gomorrah. Pride, excess food, and peace and prosperity abound but not help for poor and impoverished people. Will anyone plead to God for us? Are there 50 people among us in this empire that are “innocent?” Are there 45 that are righteous? Are there 40 that will share their food? Are there 30 that will open their doors to those who do not speak English? Are there 20 that will speak up for our Muslim friends and neighbors? Are there 10 that will shelter a trans neighbor?

May God have mercy on us and may we be the embodiment of God’s mercy. May our hospitality bring God’s justice to our neighbors – so that injustice will not destroy us all.