Spiritual Sunday
Today’s Old Testament lesson, the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, is catnip to hellfire and brimstone preachers, who use it as a parable for what they regard at the modern world’s sinful ways. I find deeply problematic, however, the idea that a city is so unredeemable that every man, woman and child must be exterminated. I much prefer Anna Akhmatova’s response.
The Russian poet looks at the episode through the eyes of Lot’s wife, who disobeyed God by turning back to view the destruction and was turned into a pillar of salt. As Akhmatova sees it, her eyes “were welded shut by mortal pain.” The view was so “bitter” that “into transparent salt her body grew” and her “quick feet were rooted in the plain.” It’s as though she cared too much and paid a price for her empathy.
Lot, his eyes fixed on a bright, hulking angel, turns his back on Sodom. Akhmatova hints that he has found a way to harden his heart to the suffering of his fellow humans. Life seems emotionally easier if one does so.
Akhmatova challenges us to feel for Lot’s wife as she cared for Sodom. Don’t forego empathy, even if it turns you into a pillar of salt. Our “wild grief” makes us human, which is why the poet promises not to forget the wife.
We in the 21st century are going to be increasingly challenged by the suffering of others as climate change creates more and more refugees. Historic droughts triggered the Syrian crisis and has also contributed to some of Guatemala’s refugees. Can we see our tears, not as “a waste,” but as evidence that we still care.
Lot's Wife
By Anna Akhmatova, trans. Richard Wilbur
The just man followed then his angel guide
Where he strode on the black highway, hulking and bright;
But a wild grief in his wife's bosom cried,
Look back, it is not too late for a last sight
Of the red towers of your native Sodom, the square
Where once you sang, the gardens you shall mourn,
And the tall house with empty windows where
You loved your husband and your babes were born.
She turned, and looking on the bitter view
Her eyes were welded shut by mortal pain;
Into transparent salt her body grew,
And her quick feet were rooted in the plain.
Who would waste tears upon her? Is she not
The least of our losses, this unhappy wife?
Yet in my heart she will not be forgot
Who, for a single glance, gave up her life.
