The First Voice of Justice
Parshat Vayera (Genesis 18:1-22:24)
Have you ever felt the urge to speak up when something was wrong, but hesitated—wondering if your voice would matter? What does it take to raise your voice for others, even when the outcome is uncertain?
“Would You obliterate the righteous along with the wicked?” (Genesis 18:23)
Abraham’s words to G-d are among the boldest in the Torah. He dares to plead not only for the innocent, but for everyone in Sodom and Gomorrah. The Midrash—an ancient Hebrew commentary that offers deeper meaning and new insights beyond the literal text—pictures him standing before G-d like a lawyer before a judge. It is not arrogance, but fierce love for humanity. Chassidic thought adds that Abraham’s defining trait of chesed (lovingkindness) was not quiet or passive; it compelled him to fight for mercy, even for those who seemed beyond saving.
This was radical in its time. In ancient societies, self-preservation and loyalty to one’s own tribe were supreme values. Yet Abraham looked beyond his own circle and risked everything to defend strangers. His willingness to confront injustice, to stand in the uncomfortable place, became a model for moral courage. And even though his plea did not change the outcome, the struggle itself carried lasting meaning: faith demands that we try, even when success is uncertain.
A factory in a small town had been dumping waste into the river for years. The water smelled strange, and fish floated to the surface, but most people stayed quiet. The factory provided jobs, and no one wanted to rock the boat. At a town meeting, silence filled the room as officials prepared to approve another permit. Then a teacher stood up. Her hands trembled as she held a jar of cloudy river water. “This is what my students drink at lunch,” she said. The room stirred. Parents shifted uneasily. “If we poison the water, we poison our children.” For a moment, no one spoke. Then another parent stood beside her, and another. That night the decision was delayed—and the silence in the town was broken.
We often underestimate how far a single voice can reach. A word in defense of fairness, a refusal to accept cruelty, a protest on behalf of someone overlooked—these moments ripple outward. Abraham’s greatness lay not in persuading G-d to spare the cities, but in showing that moral responsibility begins with the courage to speak.
Abraham’s words still hang in the air: “Would You obliterate the righteous along with the wicked?” His voice echoes in every act of courage today. Justice begins—again and again—whenever someone dares to speak.
Wishing you a good week, and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yonatan Hambourger