God, Avraham, and Sodom: Defending Sinners

We read in Parashat Vayera of Avraham’s plea to God to spare the condemned city of Sedom, which God had decided to eliminate – along with the neighboring towns – because of the sinfulness of its population. The Midrash Tanchuma, commenting on these verses, writes:

The Almighty does not wish to find any creature guilty, as it says, “For I do not wish the death of a person deserving death” (Yechezkel 18:32)… What does He wish? To exonerate His creatures… The proof is that when the Sedomites sinned, the Almighty revealed [their sentence] to Avraham in order that he would advocate for them…. Avraham immediately began defending them…

The Midrash infers from the story of Sedom that God does not look to find fault with people, and, to the contrary, is interested in finding a basis for acquitting His subjects in judgment. He informed of Avraham of His decree as an invitation to Avraham to petition on the city’s behalf, showing us that His wish is to acquit, rather than condemn, sinners.

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda explains the practical message that the Midrash here seeks to convey:

The idea here is that a person should not think that if he defends the wicked, he thereby infringes upon God’s honor. For we see from this [incident] that He is not concerned about His honor; after all, He sought to find a source of merit for those who sinned against Him and one whose behalf it would thus seem appropriate to abstain from advocating. They thus commented here that this is not the case, for the Almighty Himself wants a source of merit to be found even for the wicked.

It is tempting to rail against sinners, as it leaves one feeling gratified that he wages a sacred battle to defend God’s honor. The story of Avraham and Sedom, however, teaches that to the contrary, God Himself wants us to defend those who sin – even the people of Sedom. He is interested in finding a basis for an innocent verdict, not in condemning and censuring. And He wants us to do the same. We don’t do the Almighty any favors by looking to find fault in people and disparaging and berating sinners. We must follow the example set by Avraham Avinu of vigorously searching for the merits and favorable qualities of our fellow Jews, rather than just protesting what they do wrong supposedly for the sake of God’s honor.

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God Descends to Judge Sodom - Seeking the Good

The Torah in Parashat Vayera tells the story of the destruction of Sedom and its neighboring cities, which is preceded by God’s informing Avraham of His plans to eliminate the sinful city. He tells Avraham, “I shall go down and see if its cries render it deserving of annihilation…” (18:21).

The Midrash Ha-bi’ur (commonly attributed to the 15^th-century Yemenite scholar Saadia Edni), noting the phrase, “I shall go down” (“eirda na”), writes, “On this basis they [the Sages] said: Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place.” The author of this Midrash detects within the image of God “going down” to Sedom an allusion to the famous exhortation in Pirkei Avot to delay judgment before considering the person’s exact situation and circumstances. Just as God “went down” into Sedom, so-to-speak, to determine its fate, so must we “go down” into our peers’ circumstances before casting judgment.

How exactly does the Midrash interpret the notion of God “going down” to Sedom, and how does this teach us about the way to judge others?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains (based on a passage in Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson’s Divrei Shaul) that God “went down” into Sedom in the sense of judging them by appropriate and reasonable standards. There are many modes of conduct that are deemed acceptable by conventional norms and standards, though from the perspective of God, the source of goodness and benevolence, would be considered unethical. When God judges the world, He must “descend” from His frame of reference and enter that of us fundamentally flawed mortals. God cannot judge the world based upon His perfect conceptions of right and wrong; He takes into account our inherent weaknesses and limitations, and the way these affect conventional and accepted standards. When He judges the world, He “comes down” to view us through the prism of the human experience, to assess our actions from an earthly, rather than heavenly, frame of reference.

The Midrash Ha-bi’ur teaches us to follow the Almighty’s example in the “judgments” that we make about the people around us. We, too, must at times “go down” in making our assessments. As the Yalkut Yehuda writes:

Just as the Almighty does not judge a person based upon His moral consciousness, but rather according to the person’s consciousness, similarly, every judge must go down from his high level of consciousness and judge the person according to who he is. And this is what is meant when they [the Sages] said, “Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place” – meaning, a judge must lower himself and go to the place and moral condition of the defendant…

The exhortation “Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place” requires us to have different expectations from different people. Some people are not ready for the standards that we have set for ourselves and follow. In making our assessments, we must take example from the Almighty who “goes down” when rendering judgment, evaluating people based on their frame of reference, and not based upon His pristine standards of perfection.

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Sara and Hagar: A Maidservant Dispossessing her Mistress?

The Torah in Parashat Lekh-Lekha tells of Avraham’s marriage to Hagar, Sara’s maidservant, a bold measure initiated by Sara herself after being married for many years without children. She tells Avraham, “Marry, please, my maidservant, so perhaps I, too, will be built through her” (16:2). Sara chose to create this uneasy situation in her home, which had the result of compromising her own status, for the sake of bringing children which, in some way, would be considered hers.

The Midrash Ha-gadol, commenting on this verse, cites the verse in Mishlei (30:21) which lists “a maidservant who dispossesses her mistress” as one of the phenomena that causes the “earth to tremble.” It is devastating for somebody to see a subordinate rise above him or her, and yet Sara put herself in a position to experience this kind of humiliation. The Midrash comments, “This shows you the power of our matriarch Sara who was not jealous of her maidservants, and was rather concerned for the sake of Heaven.”

Often, the concern to protect one’s honor can hinder progress and productivity. People refuse to enter partnerships with potential to yield great benefit, because they feel superior to the prospective partners. Committees working on important projects break down because of power struggles. People turn down jobs that would benefit them because they feel the work is beneath them. When we are too worried about their stature and prestige, this concern gets in the way of constructive effort. The Midrash saw in Sara’s decision to have Avraham marry Hagar an extreme model of sacrificing stature for the sake of producing desired results. Sara wanted children, and acknowledged that this could happen only if she was prepared to compromise her position in the home and share her husband with her maidservant. And as painful as this was – and, as we read later, despite the problems and tensions it caused – she was prepared to undertake this drastic measure in order to have children through Hagar.

The Midrash bids us to learn from Sara’s example and be prepared to put aside our natural desire for honor and prestige when this is necessary in order to achieve. If we are overly concerned with status, we will find ourselves stifled and hindered, and unable to accomplish to our fullest potential.

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Two Lekh Lekhas, the Akeida, and Avraham's First Mitzva

God’s command to Avraham to leave his homeland and relocate in Canaan is issued with the famous words, “lekh lekha” (“Go forth”), which, as many have noted, are also used years later, when God commands Avraham to sacrifice his son (“lekh lekha el Eretz Ha-Moriya” – 22:2). In truth, however, these two commands are very different from one another. Rashi, citing Chazal, comments on God’s command to Avraham to “go forth” from his homeland, “Le-hana’atekha u-le’tovotekha.” Meaning, God was not actually commanding Avraham to leave, but rather promising him that he would receive great blessings if he relocated in Canaan. Indeed, after telling Avraham to go, God makes no demands and imposes no obligations, and instead describes the blessing he would receive in his new land. And thus Rashi understood that even the instruction of “lekh lekha” was less of a command than a promise, offering Avraham the opportunity to bear children and earn wealth and prestige by leaving his homeland and going “to the place where I will show you.”

When viewed from this angle, the “command” of “lekh lekha” stands in stark contrast to the command of the akeida. There, quite obviously, Avraham stood to receive no benefit whatsoever. And, God made no promises, simply and plainly issuing His command without any explanation or guarantee of reward, instructing Avraham to act in opposition to the most basic human emotions and conceptions of morality, as well as in opposition to everything Avraham had taught, preached and believed.

In fact, when we examine God’s prophecies to Avraham, we see that Avraham did not receive any commands until the end of Parashat Lekh-Lekha, when he was commanded to perform berit mila. Until that point, his relationship with God was a “one-way street,” with God promising wealth and greatness and demanding nothing. Of course, as we know from the text and, even more so, from the Midrashim, Avraham was a faithful servant of God who worked and sacrificed on behalf of monotheistic faith and morality. But all this was done voluntarily. It was not until the command of berit mila that God imposed an obligation upon him. And it might be for this reason that Avraham, according to the Gemara (Chagiga 3a), was referred to as “nadiv” (literally, “the volunteer”), as for many years his loyalty to God was expressed solely through voluntarily commitment. (These observations are made by Rav Moshe Gantz of Yeshivat Shaalvim, in his Penei Shabbat, pp. 62-63.)

Why did this change when Avraham was ninety-nine years old, whereupon he was commanded to undergo circumcision?

The command of berit mila was issued a year before the birth of Yitzchak, which marked the establishment of a nation. Until then, Avraham worked as an individual. And as someone driven by a sincere desire to serve his Creator, his volunteerism and ambition led him to great accomplishments. But God’s plan was for Avraham to create a nation that would represent Him in the world. And for a nation, voluntary service of God does not suffice. Avraham’s descendants, the Nation of Israel, could only carry out its mission by receiving and obeying God’s commands. If avodat Hashem remained strictly voluntary, we could not survive as a nation, as each individual would follow the path that he subjectively finds appropriate, and there would be no cohesion whereby we could be defined as a nation working together to serve the Almighty. Undoubtedly, the commands of the Torah leave plenty of room for voluntarism and individual areas of emphasis and specialization. But what brings us together as a nation of God’s servants is our compliance with His commands.

And thus just before Avraham the individual becomes Avraham the patriarch of a large nation, he receives his first command from God, ensuring that the legacy he leaves to his descendants includes not only the quality of “nadiv,” of voluntary commitment to the Almighty, but also that of strict compliance with the divine command.

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Rav Hirsch on Sara's Grievances

We cited and discussed the Torah’s brief description of Sara’s angry comments to Avraham upon seeing how Hagar began treating her disrespectfully: “Sara said to Avraham: My fury is upon you; I placed my maidservant in your bosom, and when she saw she was pregnant, she belittled me” (16:5). Sara had decided to have Hagar marry Avraham so the children would be considered, in some sense, her own, but once Hagar conceived she began belittling Sara and regarding her as inferior. In response, Sara turned to Avraham and blamed him for the situation, as she apparently felt that he did not stand up for his wife’s honor in the face of Hagar’s insolence.

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, in his commentary to this verse, notes the significance of the term “chamasi” (“my fury”) which Sara uses here to describe her feelings of anger toward her husband. The word “chamas,” Rav Hirsch explains, as opposed other terms used for anger, denotes “continuous small wrongs.” And thus, for example, Chazal famously understood the Torah’s description of the generation of the flood as a time of rampant “chamas” (6:11) to mean that they engaged in theft of small amounts that cannot be claimed in court. Rav Hirsch explains that “chamas” refers not to severe acts of violence, but rather to small, minor annoyances and grievances that, with time, create a generally unpleasant reality. In Rav Hirsch’s words, “chamas” means “small petty needle pricks which disturb one’s life, put one into a ‘ferment,’ continuously disturbing the quiet peaceful atmosphere till it becomes ‘sour’…” (In this vein, Rav Hirsch suggests an association between the term “chamas” and the word “chametz,” comparing small, continuous offenses to a small portion of yeast which causes fermentation.) And thus, Sara here does not accuse Avraham of a single, grievous offense. Rather, she blames the difficult circumstances, whereby she lost her authority over Hagar and her prominent position in the household, on Avraham’s day-to-day mishandling – in Sara’s view – of the situation. She thus describes her grievance with the word “chamas,” charging that Avraham’s actions had the cumulative effect of creating this undesirable and unpleasant situation.

As mentioned yesterday, Chazal in the Midrash express their disapproval of Sara’s anger toward Avraham. Nevertheless, Rav Hirsch’s insight should perhaps alert us to the fact that especially in close relationships, small offenses and infractions, independently trivial and negligible as they may be, have a way of building and accumulating to the point where a general negative environment surfaces. Enough “minor” wrongs can create major tensions. And thus even if Sara’s harsh remarks toward Avraham were not justified, the concept of “chamas,” of anger resulting from the cumulative effect of a series of minor offenses, is one which we should learn from her response. We must endeavor to avoid even minor tensions in our relationships with other people, if for no other reason than to ensure that they do not combine to create major tensions.

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Sara's Fury toward Avraham

The Torah in Parashat Lekh-Lekha tells of Sara’s decision to have her maidservant, Hagar, marry Avraham. Having been unable to conceive after many years of marriage to Avraham, Sara figured that her maidservant would marry Avraham and bear children who would, in a sense, be hers – “and I, too, shall be built from her” (16:2). Hagar indeed conceived, whereupon her relationship to Sara began to change, as Hagar treated her as inferior. Sara, surprisingly, directed her anger toward Avraham: “Sara said to Avraham: My fury is upon you; I placed my maidservant in your bosom, and when she saw she was pregnant, she belittled me” (16:5).

Many commentators addressed the question of why Sara blamed Avraham for the situation. From the straightforward reading of the text, it appears that Avraham did nothing other than what Sara requested. He married Hagar, who then conceived. How could he be blamed for Hagar’s disrespectful attitude toward Sara?

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch finds the answer to this question in the word “anokhi” (“I”) which Sara used in this context, as opposed to the more common word “ani.” According to Rav Hirsch, the term “anokhi” has the specific connotation of “I to the exclusion of others.” (The most obvious example of this meaning of “anokhi” is in the Ten Commandments – “Anokhi Hashem Elokekha.”) Sara here tells Avraham, in Rav Hirsch’s words, “I, myself placed her in your arms. She knows quite well that it was I who brought about the whole matter, and brought it about just with the intention of her becoming a mother. So it must be in your behavior and conduct that I have lost value in her eyes.” In other words, as Sara initiated this entire course of action, with the expressed purpose of begetting children through Hagar, it is clear that Hagar’s marriage to Avraham was not meant as a “promotion” to a status equal to, and certainly not superior to, Sara. And thus nothing Sara did could have possible led to the diminution of her status in Hagar’s eyes, and, as such, it must have been Avraham who, through either word or deed, led Hagar to believe she was now superior.

Chazal (Bereishit Rabba 45) were critical of Sara for her response to this situation, pointing to Sara’s angry reaction as an example of the tendency among some women to be “astetniyot” (quarrelsome). In light of Rav Hirsch’s approach, we might learn from this episode that we must avoid pointing fingers at others when adverse situations arise, even when we know that we are not at fault. Sara may have indeed been correct that she could not be blamed for the circumstances, but this does not justify her casting the blame on Avraham. Our innocence does not prove another’s guilt. Adversity is part of life, and, very often, there is not necessarily anyone to blame. Finding a source of guilt has the temporarily soothing effect of supplying a target at which to direct our frustration, and it is therefore natural to begin looking for somebody to blame when adverse situations arise. The Midrash’s criticism of Sara should remind us to avoid this tendency and to accept the reality that even when we are not at fault, this does not mean that somebody else is.

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Avraham's Concern about Casualties

After Avraham’s stunning military victory over the four eastern powers, which he waged for the purpose of rescuing his captured nephew, Lot, God appeared to him to offer reassurance: “Do not be afraid, Avram, I will be your shield; your reward is very great” (15:1). The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 44:4) cites different views as to what concerned Avraham that necessitated God’s reassurance. According to one view, that of Rabbi Levi, the possibility that he may have killed innocent people during battle weighed heavily on Avraham’s conscience.

Rabbi Levi then offers an analogy to explain God’s comforting response to Avraham. He tells of a man who happens to notice a pile of thorns on the royal garden, and volunteers to remove them. He then notices that the king is watching him, and he fears for his life, as he had not been invited to perform this task. The king reassures the man, noting that he would have otherwise had to hire somebody to remove the thorns, and the man is thus deserving of reward.

According to Rabbi Levi, then, God responded to Avraham’s concerns by affirming that he removed only “thorns” – meaning, he did not kill anyone unnecessarily in battle. Avraham waged a just war, fighting to rescue the captured citizens of Sedom, and none of the casualties suffered by the enemy were innocents. The implication of Rabbi Levi’s comments (as noted by the Rosh Yeshiva, HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein shelit”a) is that if not all the casualties were “thorns,” Avraham would, indeed, have had legitimate reason to be concerned. God allayed Avraham’s fears by assuring him that he had not killed unnecessarily; otherwise, if insufficient care had been taken to avoid unnecessary deaths, then Avraham’s fears would have been warranted.

Even when we are involved in noble and important endeavors, we must exercise care and caution to avoid “casualties” along the way. Admirable ends do not justify unjust means, and even when waging legitimate “battles,” working to achieve important and valuable goals, we are to ensure not to cause people harm in the process.

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Idealism vs. Cynicism: The Opposing Worldviews of Malkitzedek and the King of Sodom

We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha of how Avraham went to war to rescue his nephew, Lot, who was captured along with the other residents of Sedom by the four eastern powers. Upon Avraham’s triumphant return, he was greeted by two leaders: Malkitzedek, the king of the city of Shalem who served as a spiritual figure (“ve-hu khohein le-Kel Eloyon” – 14:18), and the king of Sedom.

The reactions of these two men to Avraham’s astonishing victory are strikingly different from one another. Malkitzedek brings food and wine for a celebration, and heaps praise on Avraham and on the Almighty for the remarkable events. By contrast, the king of Sedom, who saw his city captured and looted, and then rescued by Avraham, expresses not a word of gratitude or congratulations. Instead, he proceeds directly to the negotiations, offering Avraham the property he rescued in exchange for the people. The question that needs to be asked is why Malkitzedek, who does not appear to have directly benefited from Avraham’s victory, hosts a celebration and publicly salutes Avraham, whereas the king of Sedom, the primary beneficiary of Avraham’s campaign, “gets right down to business” without any words of appreciation or praise.

The likely answer is that these two leaders – Malkitzedek, the “priest to the Lord Most High,” and the king of the corrupt city of Sedom – viewed Avraham’s bold campaign from two very different perspectives. Malkitzedek saw a man who courageously put his life on the line to rescue his estranged nephew and extricate the region from the brutal control of a powerful empire. (We should note that Chazalidentify Amrafel, the leader of the four kings, as the ruthless emperor Nimrod – Rashi, 14:1, Eiruvin 53a.) The king of Sedom, on the other hand, who ruled a society characterized by greed, saw Avraham as an opportunist who seized the moment in his pursuit of wealth and prestige. And thus after Malkitzedek blessed Avraham and praised God for the victory, the king of Sedom turned to Avraham and went straight to what he thought was the heart of the matter – the money. Living in and leading a greedy, self-centered society, the king projected this mindset onto Avraham, figuring that this campaign was waged purely out of greed.

The more we are exposed to corruption and immorality, the more difficult it is to admire and seek to emulate great people. We become suspicious of their hidden motives and skeptical of their sincerity, and try to see through the veneer of idealism and virtue. Just as the king of Sedom could not acknowledge Avraham’s sincere motives for rescuing his fallen city, we, too, oftentimes view good people with cynicism and negativity, jaded and disillusioned as we are by the numerous stories we read and hear of corruption and deceit. The contrast between Malkitzedek and the king of Sedom should remind us to try, as much as possible, to view the people and events around us in a positive light, and to retain our belief in the “Avrahams” of the world despite the negativity we see around us. We must distinguish between blind, dangerous naiveté and healthy optimism, and between a careful, discerning eye and suffocating cynicism. It is possible, and necessary, to acknowledge the presence of evil without looking for it everywhere we look. We must learn from Malkitzedek that despite the unfortunate manifestations of “Sedom,” there are still “Avrahams” in the world for us to admire and seek to emulate.

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Radak on Hagar: Ego Inflation

We read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha of Avraham’s marriage to Hagar, Sara’s maidservant. Sara, who was childless, initiated the idea of having Avraham marry a second wife, her maidservant, whose children would then be considered her own. Hagar conceived immediately after marrying Avraham, whereupon “she looked disparagingly upon her mistress” (16:4). The Radak explains this to mean that Hagar’s pregnancy caused her to change her perception of her standing in the household vis-à-vis Sara. As the mother of Avraham’s only offspring, Hagar figured, she was now the primary woman in the household, whereas Sara – who had been her mistress – was now relegated to secondary status. Hagar thus refused Sara’s orders, as she no longer regarded herself as the maidservant.

The Radak’s reading becomes especially significant in light of the subsequent narrative, which tells of Hagar’s encounter with an angel. Sara responded to Hagar’s bold dissidence by “tormenting” her (“va-te’aneha Sarai”), until Hagar felt she needed to escape. She fled to the desert, where she met an angel who asked her, “Where are you coming from, and where are you going?” Hagar replied, “I am fleeing from my mistress, Sarai.” Whereas previously (according to the Radak’s reading) Hagar regarded herself as the primary woman in the household and Sarai as her subordinate, upon her encounter with the angel she acknowledged her place as the maidservant, and that Sara was her mistress. After leaving the home and forced to ask herself the question of “where are you coming from, and where are you going,” to take stock of her life, to think about how she arrived at her current state of misery and what the future might hold, she recognized the cold, hard truth that she was Sara’s maidservant.

Many of us, at different periods in our lives, harbor certain illusions about ourselves and our standing. Like Hagar, we sometimes magnify our successes so we can inflate our feelings of accomplishment and superiority. We find ways to create an artificial sense of importance and supremacy to free ourselves from the uneasy feeling of inferiority. Just as Hagar pounced on the opportunity presented by her quick conception to assert her superiority over Sara, we, too, build upon our modest successes to create a false sense of superiority.

The account of Hagar’s encounter with the angel might remind us to assess ourselves and our standing with brutal honesty and objectivity. We have nothing to fear by acknowledging “Sarai gevirti,” that other people are, in some ways, superior. As the angel urges Hagar, “Shuvi el gevirteikh” – “Return to your mistress.” Our best course of action is to see ourselves as how we really are, rather than fabricate a self-image to satisfy the cravings of our ego. That way, we will be able to make the most of our situation and of the gifts and talents given to us by God to fulfill our unique, individual mission.

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Avraham's Gifts from Pharoah - Why did he Accept?

Many commentators raised the question of why, as we read in Parashat Lekh-Lekha, Avraham received lavish gifts during his brief sojourn in Egypt (12:16), but vehemently refused to accept the property of Sedom offered to him by the city’s king (14:23). Why was Avraham ready to accept gifts in one instance, but not in the other?

The Siftei Chakhamim (12:13) offers several possible answers to this question. First, he suggests distinguishing between different sizes of gifts. The gifts Avraham received in Egypt were moderately-sized, and thus Avraham did not find it inappropriate to accept them. After the battle to rescue Sedom, however, Avraham was offered an enormous amount of assets, and so he declined. The Siftei Chakhamim cites in this context the Gemara’s comment in Masekhet Berakhot (10b) that a Torah scholar who is offered gifts “like Elisha” is entitled to accept them. This refers to the story told in Sefer Melakhim II of the prophet Elisha who was regularly hosted by a generous woman (the isha ha-Shunamit) who made a special room for him and fed him. The Gemara views this arrangement as establishing a model that all scholars may follow of accepting offers of gifts and financial assistance. The Siftei Chakhamim suggests that the Gemara pointed specifically to the example of Elisha, who was given basic accommodations, but not showered with lavish gifts. And thus Avraham accepted the modest gifts offered to him in Egypt, but refused to accept the fortune offered to him by the king of Sedom. (It should be noted, however, that from the Torah’s description it appears that Avraham became wealthy in Egypt, and did not just accept a modest gift.)

In a slightly different vein, the Siftei Chakhamim later suggests distinguishing between the different stages in Avraham’s life. When Avraham arrived in Egypt, he was a poor nomad, and thus he accepted the gifts offered to him. By the time he waged the battle to rescue Sedom, he was already wealthy, and thus he declined the offer to keep the spoils for himself.

The Siftei Chakhamim then cites a much different explanation from the Divrei David, who suggested that the gifts were part of Avraham’s strategy to save his life in Egypt. As the Torah relates, Avraham feared that an Egyptian would kill him so he could marry Sara, and he therefore asked Sara to present herself as his sister, as opposed to his wife. However, the Divrei David comments, Avraham still feared that somebody might assume they were married and then kill Avraham before inquiring about their relationship. Therefore, he asked Sara to spread the word wherever she went that she was in Egypt with her poor brother who needed financial assistance. People would then be informed that they were brother and sister, and anybody who wished to marry Sara would first send gifts to her brother in order to earn her hand in marriage.

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God, Avraham, and Sodom: Defending Sinners

God Descends to Judge Sodom - Seeking the Good

Sara and Hagar: A Maidservant Dispossessing her Mistress?

Two Lekh Lekhas, the Akeida, and Avraham's First Mitzva

Rav Hirsch on Sara's Grievances

Sara's Fury toward Avraham

Avraham's Concern about Casualties

Idealism vs. Cynicism: The Opposing Worldviews of Malkitzedek and the King of Sodom

Radak on Hagar: Ego Inflation

Avraham's Gifts from Pharoah - Why did he Accept?

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