Beyond the Basics: Seeing Mercy in Unlikely Places

July 23, 2025

by

Justin Telthorst (he/him)

Illustration by Libby Kercher

The story of Sodom and Gomorrah challenges us to push our understanding of God’s mercy beyond our comfort zones. In today’s reflection, Justin Telthorst invites us to see God’s mercy in unlikely places and to extend the mercy we’ve received to others, even—and perhaps especially—when it’s difficult.

July 27, 2025: Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Genesis 18:20¬–32
Psalm 138:1–3, 6–8
Colossians 2:12–14
Luke 11:1–13

Beyond the Basics: Seeing Mercy in Unlikely Places

A reflection by Justin Telthorst

When we hear about the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah, we often think of clobber passages and destruction, but this Sunday’s readings open with a curious story. Abraham, God’s faithful servant, begs that God would forestall the promised destruction of these “wicked and perverse” cities. Hasty interpretations of this passage in Genesis, with this Sunday’s Gospel, often reduce it to a simple lesson about the importance of persistence in prayer. But from the broader story of Abraham, we see a far more profound message: that we can never be more merciful than God.

One day, an insignificant herdsman in Mesopotamia heard the voice of God promising an expansive land, a vast nation, and a blessing for the world. To receive these blessings, God first commanded Abram to leave his native place. He departed with his wife, his possessions, and his nephew Lot. In this new land, there were many nations, including the “wicked” Sodom and Gomorrah. Yet it was near Sodom that Lot and his family chose to pitch their tents, while Abram settled elsewhere (Gen 12–13).

The land where Lot lived soon fell into war, and Lot, his family, and the whole people of Sodom and all their possessions were taken captive. When Abram heard of his nephew’s capture, he rallied his people to rescue them. But Abram didn’t just save Lot. He liberated all the captives and possessions of Sodom, defeated their enemies, and brought peace to the valley. After his victory, Abram met the king of Sodom, who wanted to repay him by offering all the goods Abram had recovered. But Abram refused, citing his faith that God alone would provide for him (Gen 14).

Years passed. Lot continued to live in Sodom, while Abram and Sarai’s faith wavered because even with God’s repeated promises of a child, they remained childless. Then one day, three visitors came, not only promising descendants, but announcing the birth of a child within a year. Despite the couple’s disbelief, God remained faithful, reaffirming the promises and renaming them Abraham and Sarah, meaning “father of a host of nations” and “princess” (Gen 16–18).

It is just after this story that God sends two of Abraham’s visitors to Sodom to see if the town truly is as wicked as rumors suggest. And it is here in Genesis that God makes a curious statement, debating whether to share with Abraham the plan to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. This is where this Sunday’s first reading begins. After Abraham finds out these towns are to be destroyed, he pleads for mercy, questioning if God would save the city if there were only fifty, forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, or even just ten innocent people (Gen 18:16–33).

Abraham interceded for Sodom because he wasn’t only thinking of his nephew Lot, Lot’s wife, and his two daughters. He was thinking of the king he had met, the families he had rescued, perhaps even Lot’s neighbors and friends, whom Abraham had come to know. Abraham was interceding not just for the wicked, but for people he knew.

And yet, despite all Abraham’s pleading, the towns were destroyed. We can only imagine what went through his mind as he looked down on the smoldering valley (Gen 19:27–28). Did he wonder why he had saved those people years ago? Did he question the purpose of asking God for mercy? Did he think of the king and families he had rescued, now reduced to ashes? God’s mind isn’t changed in the final hour, as in other stories, such as Jonah. There is only death. It almost seems as if Abraham was more merciful than God.

But today’s Gospel offers an answer. Jesus promises that if even the worst people know how to give good things, how much more will God give gifts to those who ask.

Is this not the story of Abraham and Sodom? Abraham and Sarah doubted God’s goodness. They laughed at God’s promises. Yet God remained faithful, so Abraham sought to extend that same mercy to the people of Sodom. The king of Sodom, for all his city’s wickedness, responded to Abram’s rescue with gratitude and generosity. A doubtful patriarch and a wicked king both offered mercy. And Jesus tells us that God is more generous than they.

So, where is the mercy in this story?

Generations later, the prophet Ezekiel reaffirmed the promise of blessing and redemption first given to Abraham, stating that God would restore the fortunes of Israel and even that God would “restore the fortunes of Sodom” (Ez 16:53). Even in violent destruction, death does not have the last word when measured against the mercy of God.

Anyone who claims that this story simply exemplifies God’s justice or teaches us about the importance of persistent prayer misses the point. The story of Abraham and Sodom teaches us that in receiving mercy, we extend mercy to others. It challenges us to think of those we deem most wicked, most perverse, most worthy of destruction, and to still forgive not as they deserve, but as we ourselves have been forgiven.

May we extend to others the mercy we have received, because the story of Abraham’s pleading reminds us that our cries for mercy will never exceed the merciful work of God.

                                                           

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Justin Telthorst is a speaker, writer, and content creator who is passionate about LGBT+ and Catholic dialogue. He has over a decade of experience navigating Church ministry, including five years as a missionary with FOCUS. Drawing from his rich background in philosophy, theology, and psychology, he offers a thoughtful and compassionate approach to the pastoral care and inclusion of LGBT+ Catholics, rooted in years of deep formation and pastoral experience. He is dedicated to fostering community among LGBT+ Catholics and making the Church a safe and welcoming place for all. When not working as a nurse, the Colorado-based advocate enjoys hiking and trail running. You can find his work at Empty Chairs.