The "real" sin of Sodom
inhospitality is evil/hospitality is a miracle
People love to debate whether the “real” sin of Sodom and Gomorrah was “unnatural sex” or inhospitality. If you’re an intelligent person, you should already know the answer to this question. But we thought we’d give a very cracks in pomo answer by offering a humble, self-deprecating confession of my own horrible sinfulness.
As we all know, I am a Laschian narcissist. I was raised as an upper-middle class suburban snowflake child of divorce, and worse, an only-child (for most of my childhood). And even worse(r), I grew up in a very consumerist family. We loved buying random shit that we did not need. I was taught to believe that one can find meaning and fulfillment in buying things.
Thus, my worldview very much revolved around my needs, my whims, my convenience…doing things that tickled my fancy and avoiding things (and people) that did not please me on an instinctive level.
My family often changed their plans in order to cater to what I wanted. And so, needless to say, I’m very entitled. I am high maintenance, and am not at all flexible. I believe the fantastical delusion that I deserve everything I want…right now! I think I’m right about everything, and if you challenge me, it’s because you’re trying to victimize me. It’s my way or the highway.
When visiting people, I presume that they not only will host me, but that they will be overwhelmingly happy to do so (since I’m such a delight to be around and all). I love eating food out of their fridges, allowing them to pay for my meals at restaurants, and (gently) demanding that they conform their schedule to fit my very particular desires. (I once whined about how badly I longed for “an organic vegan gentrified chocolate chip cookie,” and my friend actually took us a half hour out of our way to this hipster cafe to get me my cookie. Don’t worry, I made sure to thank her.)
While I’ve learned to be gracious and thank people for their hospitality, I am really bad at returning the favor. When people stay over with me, I get very protective of “my space” and “my time.” I feel like people who visit me are imposing on me, and I get very pissy when they ask me to change my routine in order to cater to their whims (and needs) [on top of being rooted in my immorality, it’s also somewhat rooted in my sperginess]. I usually go along with it, but I don’t exactly hide that I’m doing it begrudgingly.
When traveling with friends, I’ve yet to master the art of give and take. I still expect them to cater to my whims (finding not just any cafe—but the perfect cafe, going inside every single church we pass by, stopping to analyze every single piece of art in the museum), and I get annoyed when they want me to do things I don’t wanna do (go hiking, do anything that has to do with nature, eat at restaurants I don’t want to eat at, etc).
Alas, this is my great struggle. I’ve been asking God for the grace to change my heart, to help me to be more hospitable and more accommodating. But it’s easier said than done. The process of conversion will be slow. I’ll probably be somewhat of a selfish asshole for most of my life. But at least I own it. And at least I’m trying to be better. And little by little, I’m seeing (some) change.
Indeed, genuine hospitality is truly “a miracle”…it is the fruit of a grace more so than a voluntaristic effort…of the awareness that God receives me wholeheartedly as I am, which makes it easier to receive people as they are…which is why it’s so difficult to find genuinely hospitable Christian communities—where they actually treat a rando as if he/she/they are Christ walking through the door.
Anyway, the point of this post was to remind you that even if the “real” sin of Sodom was sod*my, inhospitality is actually still really horrible, and you should be ashamed of yourself if you are guilty of this wretched sin.
Have you ever read the Book of Lot?