4 min read

Sodom's Punishment Was Written Before Sodom Existed

Bereshit Rabbah argues that Sodom's destruction was not God's reaction to the city's crimes but a sentence prepared before the world began.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Sentence Before the Crime
  2. What Jubilees Says About Sodom's Crimes
  3. Gehinnom Was Made Beside Eden
  4. Lot's Line and Why It Was Preserved

The Sentence Before the Crime

Judgment precedes the crime in Jewish cosmology. The rabbis did not make this claim casually. They did not mean that God punished Sodom before Sodom sinned. They meant something more precise and in some ways more unsettling: the capacity for judgment, the fire of Gehinnom, the brimstone, the mechanisms of destruction, all of it was built into the structure of creation before the world was made, placed there in full foreknowledge of the crimes that would eventually require it.

Sodom's destruction was not God improvising a response to news that had just reached heaven. It was God executing a sentence written before the Jordan valley existed, before Canaan was settled, before Abraham was born. The lush plain Lot chose because it looked like Eden was sitting on top of a judgment that had been aging under it since the beginning.

What Jubilees Says About Sodom's Crimes

The Book of Jubilees, c. 160-150 BCE, approaches Sodom's sins with the precision of someone filing a formal indictment. The people of Sodom had polluted themselves and their land through specific categories of transgression, the same categories that the laws of Leviticus were given to prevent Israel from repeating. The parallel was intentional: Israel was being warned, through the story of Sodom's destruction, that the land itself has a tolerance level, and when the level is exceeded, the land responds by expelling those who have defiled it.

In the Jubilees framework Sodom happened so that Israel would understand what the land can and cannot absorb.

Gehinnom Was Made Beside Eden

Bereshit Rabbah, compiled c. 400-500 CE, answers yes. The seven things created before the world include Gehinnom alongside the Garden of Eden, and the tradition insists on keeping those two adjacent in the list. You cannot have the paradise without the consequence. The consequence was prepared when the paradise was prepared. The fire was ready before any human being had committed any act that required it.

This means that when Lot looked at the Jordan plain and saw a landscape that resembled Eden, he was standing above a judgment that had been waiting for Sodom's crimes since before those crimes were committed by anyone. The beauty of the valley and the destruction stored below it were created in the same act.

Lot's Line and Why It Was Preserved

Sifrei Devarim tracks the verses that describe Lot's separation from Abraham and notices that the word used for the Jordan plain can mean watered or irrigated, but can also carry a secondary meaning related to a corrupting drink. Lot was drawn toward something that looked like nourishment and was actually a slow poison. He saw the land was well-watered. He did not see what the water was doing to the people who drank from it.

The midrash does not condemn Lot entirely. The Targum Jonathan, the ancient Aramaic translation of the Torah, adds a single word to the verse where Lot lifts his eyes and surveys the plain: he saw corruption. The plain was beautiful and Lot saw its corruption simultaneously. He chose to enter it anyway. His choice was not made in ignorance.

What preserved Lot's line through the destruction was not Lot's virtue but the thread that ran from him back to Abraham. The cave and Moab and Ruth and David, all of it was preserved because the covenant's architecture had already decided that something necessary to the future was inside Lot's line, however damaged that line became in Sodom's shadow.


← All myths

From the tradition

Sources

5 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Targum Jonathan on Genesis 13Targum Jonathan

In (Genesis 13:10), Lot "lifted up his eyes and saw the whole plain of the Jordan, that it was well watered everywhere." A simple observation about good farmland. But the ancient Aramaic translators of Targum Jonathan saw something far darker in that gaze, and their single added word transforms the entire story.

The Targum says Lot "uplifted his eyes towards fornication". And then beheld the well-watered plain. The translators did not describe what Lot saw. They described what Lot wanted. His eyes were already seeking sin before they landed on the landscape. The lush Jordan Valley was not the temptation. It was the excuse. Lot chose Sodom not despite its wickedness but because of it.

The Targum also explains the dispute between Abraham's shepherds and Lot's shepherds in a way the Hebrew never does. In Genesis, we learn only that "there was strife" (Genesis 13:7). The Targum fills in the details: Abraham had specifically instructed his shepherds not to graze among the Canaanites and Perizzites, and to restrain their cattle from trespassing on others' pastures. Lot's shepherds ignored these rules entirely, "feeding in the grounds of the Kenaanaee and Pherizaee." The argument was not about grazing rights. It was about ethics. Abraham demanded scrupulous honesty while Lot's people took whatever they pleased.

The depravity of Sodom also gets a far more detailed treatment. Where Genesis says only that "the men of Sodom were wicked and sinners" (Genesis 13:13), the Targum catalogs their crimes: they "sinned in their bodies," "sinned with open nakedness," shed "innocent blood," and "practiced strange worship." Four distinct categories of transgression, escalating from personal corruption to idolatry. The translators wanted no ambiguity about what made Sodom worthy of destruction.

And one quiet addition changes the theology of the whole chapter. Lot prospered, the Targum notes, only because he "was remembered through the righteousness of Abraham." Every sheep and ox Lot owned was borrowed merit. When he walked toward Sodom, he was spending someone else's spiritual credit.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 41:5Bereshit Rabbah

Maybe… maybe there’s more to it than meets the eye.

The verse in Genesis tells us there was a big ol' argument brewing between the shepherds of Abram (later Abraham) and the shepherds of his nephew, Lot. But what was the fight really about? It wasn't just about grazing rights; it went deeper, touching on themes of entitlement, inheritance, and even God's promise.

Rabbi Berekhya, citing Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon, offers a fascinating insight in Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis. He suggests that Abraham’s animals were always muzzled. Why? To prevent them from nibbling on other people’s crops. Gezel – theft – was a serious no-no.

Lot’s animals? Not so much. They roamed free, munching away wherever they pleased. You can almost hear the exasperation in Abraham’s herdsmen's voices: "Hey! Has theft suddenly become okay?!"

And here’s where it gets interesting. Lot's shepherds had a pretty bold response. They argued: "God promised this land to Abraham's descendants! (Genesis 12:7). But let's be real," they’d say, according to this Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), “Abraham is practically a sterile mule. He's not having kids. Eventually, he's going to kick the bucket, and Lot, his nephew, will inherit everything! So, technically, we're not eating their stuff. We're eating our stuff!"

Talk about chutzpah!

But, of course, the Holy One, blessed be He, sees all. And according to the Midrash, God essentially said, “Hold your horses! Yes, I promised the land to Abraham’s descendants. But when? Only after I’ve cleared out the seven nations living there. (See (Genesis 15:16).)" In other words, patience, people, patience!

And that brings us back to that seemingly throwaway line: "The Canaanites and the Perizzites then lived in the land" (Genesis 13:7). Bereshit Rabbah points out that right then and there, the Canaanites and Perizzites still had their claim. The land wasn't quite Abraham's yet. This little phrase, then, isn't just setting the scene; it's a subtle reminder about timing, about deserving, and about the complexities of divine promises.

So, what does this all mean for us? Maybe it's a lesson about entitlement. About not jumping the gun. About understanding that even when we think we're owed something, there might be a bigger picture we're not seeing. Maybe it's a reminder that God's promises unfold in God's time, not ours. And maybe, just maybe, it's a call to make sure our "animals" – our actions, our desires – aren't trampling on someone else's field in the meantime.

Full source
Legends of the Jews, V. Abraham, The Destruction Of The Sinful CitiesLegends of the Jews

As retold by Ginzberg, the angels who were sent to destroy these cities didn't rush in with fiery vengeance. No, these were angels of mercy. They lingered, hoping, perhaps against hope, that the people of Sodom would somehow, some way, turn away from their wickedness. They arrived near Sodom as evening approached, a time ripe with both possibility and impending doom.

Lot, Abraham's nephew, recognized these angels, though they appeared as ordinary wayfarers. Having learned from Abraham the importance of hospitality, Lot insisted they stay at his home. Now, In Sodom, offering hospitality to strangers was a crime, punishable by death! So, Lot had to be incredibly careful, leading them through back alleys under the cover of darkness. It's a evidence of his character, this willingness to risk everything for basic human kindness.

Initially, the angels resisted Lot's invitation – good manners dictate a show of reluctance when invited by an ordinary person, while a great man's offer is accepted immediately. But Lot persisted, practically dragging them inside. Even then, his troubles weren't over. His wife wasn't exactly thrilled. She feared the wrath of the Sodomites, and, as Ginzberg tells us, she inadvertently revealed their presence to the neighbors by borrowing extra salt, sparking suspicion.

As the story goes, the situation escalated rapidly. The men of Sodom, young and old, surrounded Lot's house, demanding he hand over his guests for unspeakable acts. It was a shocking display of depravity. Initially, the angels considered Lot's pleas for the sinners, but the mob's intent was too much. “Hitherto thou couldst intercede for them, but now no longer,” they said. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened; it was practically Sodom's twisted custom to abuse strangers. Lot, recently appointed as a chief judge, even tried to reason with them, reminding them of the generation of the Flood, wiped out for similar sins. But they wouldn't listen.

Then comes a truly unsettling moment: Lot offered his own daughters to the mob to protect his guests. It's a disturbing choice, reflecting a flawed moral compass, and the verse says, he paid for this decision later on. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What were his motivations? What kind of society creates such impossible choices?

Finally, the angels revealed their true nature and their mission. They warned Lot to flee the city with his family, instructing them not to look back. As they led Lot, his wife, and daughters out of Sodom, the angel Gabriel overturned the cities with just his little finger, while the rain turned into fiery brimstone.

But Lot's wife couldn’t resist. Overcome by maternal concern for her married daughters, she glanced back, and, as the story goes, she was instantly turned into a pillar of salt. The text claims this pillar still existed in Ginzberg's time, licked by cattle and miraculously restored each morning!

Lot initially refused the angels' suggestion to seek refuge with Abraham, fearing his own righteousness would be overshadowed. Instead, he requested that the nearby city of Zoar be spared, a plea that was granted. The destruction occurred at dawn on the sixteenth of Nisan, a deliberate choice to counter sun and moon worship prevalent in Sodom. As Midrash Rabbah explains, God wanted to ensure that neither sun nor moon worshippers could claim their deities would have saved them.

The inhabitants of these cities, according to tradition, not only perished in this world but also lost their share in the world to come. However, the aggadah (non-legal rabbinic narrative), or Jewish legend, offers a glimmer of hope, suggesting that the cities will be restored in Messianic times.

The destruction of Sodom coincided with Abraham's morning prayers, an event that, established the significance of that time for prayer ever after. Seeing the smoke rising from the destroyed cities, Abraham prayed for Lot's deliverance, marking the fourth time Lot was indebted to his uncle.

And what of Lot's descendants, the Ammonites and Moabites? Instead of gratitude, they showed hostility towards the Israelites. As the text notes, they sought to destroy Israel through Balaam's curses, waged wars, and displayed hatred even at the destruction of the Temple. This led to prophecies of punishment by Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Zephaniah.

Yet, the story doesn't end with condemnation. Despite his flaws, Lot is also rewarded for his earlier loyalty to Abraham in Egypt. And even more remarkably, the Messiah will be a descendant of Lot, through Ruth the Moabitess and Naamah the Ammonitess, ancestors of King David and Rehoboam.

So, what are we left with? A story of unimaginable wickedness, divine retribution, and surprising redemption. The tale of Sodom and Gomorrah isn't just a cautionary tale about sin; it's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, acts of kindness matter, and that even flawed individuals can play a part in a greater, ultimately redemptive story. It makes you think, doesn’t it, about the complexities of judgment and the enduring power of hope.

Full source
Sifrei Devarim 43:11Sifrei Devarim

Stories like the one we find hinted at in Sifrei Devarim 43.

It all starts with Lot, Abraham's nephew. Remember him? We find him in Bereshith (Genesis) 13:10, choosing to settle in the lush, well-watered plain of the Jordan. The Torah describes it as "mashkeh" – watered, irrigated. A good thing. But things go south, as they often do. Later, in Bereshith 19:33, we find Lot's daughters giving him wine to drink – "vatashkena," a word related to "mashkeh" – so they can… well, let's just say it's a dark chapter in the family saga.

Here’s the kicker. Where on earth did they get wine in that cave? That's the question the Sifrei Devarim poses.

The answer? It was "in readiness" for them. Prepared. As the prophet Yoel (Joel) says in 4:18, "And it shall be on that day that the mountains shall drip wine." A rather miraculous image, wouldn't you say? A divine preparation.

So, think about this for a second. Even for Lot, who ends up in this rather unsavory situation, there's a sort of…divine provision. Wine appears in a cave to enable actions that, to put it mildly, aren't exactly holy.

The Sifrei Devarim then asks a powerful question: If HaShem, the Holy One Blessed be He, goes to such lengths even for those who anger Him, how much more so for those who do His will?

It's a profound thought, isn't it? If even in the midst of questionable choices, there is some level of divine accommodation, imagine the blessings that await those who strive to live righteously. It makes you wonder about the unseen forces at play in our own lives, the ways in which we are supported, even when we might not deserve it. And it certainly makes you think about the incredible potential for reward that exists when we actively choose to align ourselves with the divine will.

Full source