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Lot Was Rescued from Sodom Twice and Went Back Both Times

Lot was saved from Sodom once in battle, once from fire. Both times he returned. The texts explain what the city offered him and what the return cost.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Angelic Assignment
  2. A Man at the Gate of a Cruel City
  3. Why Lot Stayed in a City He Knew Was Condemned
  4. The Sons-in-Law Who Laughed

The Angelic Assignment

The tradition sends the angels toward Sodom with separate assignments. One goes to destroy the city. One goes to save Lot. The third, who had announced to Abraham that Sarah would bear a son, turns back to heaven because his work is done. The other two still have theirs to do.

This accounting of angelic assignments comes from the classical rabbinic tradition preserved in the Legends of the Jews. It frames Lot's rescue not as an afterthought to the city's destruction but as a parallel operation requiring equal divine attention. Destroying Sodom needed an angel. So did saving Lot. The two tasks are presented as morally equivalent in the demands they place on heaven.

A Man at the Gate of a Cruel City

Lot had been living at the gate of Sodom when the angels arrived. Sitting at the city gate was the traditional position of a judge, an elder, a man of civic standing. He had built something there. The Ginzberg account presents Sodom as a city that had perfected the architecture of cruelty: beds that stretched or compressed strangers to death, laws that made mercy a capital crime, seasonal feasts in the valley where collective transgression was conducted as civic ceremony. Lot sat at the gate of all of this. He knew what went on inside. He stayed.

This is the second time Lot had been extracted from Sodom and its orbit. The first time, Abraham had ridden out at night after an army of eight hundred thousand to bring his nephew home. Lot had gone back to Sodom after that rescue. Now the angels were here for a second extraction, and this one would come with fire.

Why Lot Stayed in a City He Knew Was Condemned

The Book of Jubilees, written in the second century BCE, frames Lot's original choice to settle in Sodom as a departure not only from Abraham's household but from the God of Abraham. The lush, well-watered Jordan valley had drawn him away from a family of faith into a city of codified cruelty. Once inside, the logic of the place took over.

The Ginzberg tradition is not entirely harsh on Lot. He had retained something of what he had learned in Abraham's tent. When the angels arrived, only he stood up to greet them. He insisted they come to his house. He knew what the city square meant after dark for unprotected strangers. He led them through back alleys, by routes that avoided neighbors who might report a householder sheltering guests. The hospitality was real. The courage it required was real. But he had chosen to practice it secretly, in a city where it could get him killed, rather than somewhere he could have practiced it openly.

The Sons-in-Law Who Laughed

When the angels told Lot to flee with his household, he went to warn his sons-in-law. The men who had married his daughters heard him out and laughed. They thought he was joking. The midrashic sources read their laughter as a symptom: men fully absorbed into Sodom's culture could not imagine Sodom being destroyed, because for them Sodom was not a corrupt city but simply the world. The daughters who were betrothed but not yet married were saved. The ones already fully integrated into Sodom's households were not.

Lot himself lingered. The angels physically took him by the hand and led him out. He lingered again at the gate. He pleaded not to be sent to the hills -- not back to Abraham, not toward righteousness, but toward a small nearby city called Zoar. Even fleeing destruction, he negotiated for proximity to the plain.


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From the tradition

Sources

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

Legends of the Jews 5:146Legends of the Jews

The Torah tells us of Abraham's incredible generosity in welcoming these strangers. But even more remarkable, says tradition, is what he did next: he went with them to see them on their way. Now, it first appears, "Okay, nice gesture." But the Rabbis saw something deeper. They understood that while hospitality is a great virtue, escorting your departing guest is even greater. It's that final act of care, ensuring their safety and well-being as they continue their journey..

So, where were these "guests" headed? Well, two of them were on a mission to Sodom. One to destroy it, and the other to save Lot, Abraham's nephew. The third, his task for Abraham fulfilled, ascended back to heaven.

Sodom... that name conjures up images of wickedness, doesn't it? And according to the legends, the reality was even worse than you might imagine. Sodom, Gomorrah, and the surrounding cities were steeped in sin and utterly godless. Ginzberg, in Legends of the Jews, paints a truly disturbing picture of their depravity.

Once a year, the inhabitants of these cities would gather in a vast valley with their families for a multi-day festival. But this wasn't a celebration of joy or community. Instead, it was a grotesque spectacle of the most revolting orgies.

But it wasn't just their private lives that were corrupt. Their business practices were equally appalling. Picture a foreign merchant, innocently passing through their territory. Suddenly, he'd find himself surrounded by a mob – men, women, children – all descending upon him, stripping him of every last possession. Each one would take only a small item, a "bagatelle," as they'd call it, a trifle. But collectively, they’d leave the traveler penniless.

And if the poor victim dared to protest? They'd shrug, feigning innocence. "What's the fuss? It's just a tiny thing!" they'd say, before driving him out of the city empty-handed. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, this wasn't just opportunistic theft; it was systemic, normalized cruelty.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How could an entire society become so utterly devoid of compassion? What happens when the basic principles of fairness and decency are completely eroded? It's a chilling reminder of the potential for darkness that exists within us, and the importance of actively choosing kindness and justice, even when those choices are difficult.

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Book of Jubilees 13:22Book of Jubilees

Book of Jubilees turns to Lot Separates From Abraham and Grief Follows.

The story picks up with Lot, Avram’s nephew, deciding to separate from him. Now, Lot wasn't just any relative; he was family. And as Jubilees tells us, it "grieved him in his heart that his brother's son had parted from him; for he had no children." Think about the weight of that statement. In a time where lineage and legacy were everything, Avram’s future felt uncertain. Lot’s departure wasn’t just a geographical separation; it was a potential blow to Avram's hopes for the future.

Where does Lot choose to settle? Sodom. Yes, that Sodom. The text wastes no time in telling us "the men of Sodom were sinners exceedingly." Not exactly a recipe for a peaceful and righteous life, is it? You can almost feel Avram’s concern radiating off the page.

Here’s where the story takes a turn, a moment of divine intervention. In the very year that Lot is taken captive (presumably due to the wickedness of Sodom, though Jubilees doesn’t explicitly state that here), God speaks to Avram. It's a pivotal moment. God says, "Lift up thine eyes from the place where thou art dwelling, northward and southward, and westward and eastward. For all the land which thou seest I shall give to thee and to thy seed for ever, and I shall make thy seed as the sand of the sea: though a man may number the dust of the earth, yet thy seed shall not be numbered. Arise, walk (through the land) in the length of it and the breadth of it, and see it all; for to thy seed shall I give it."

Talk about a promise! After the sting of Lot’s departure and the uncertainty of his own future, Avram receives this incredible vision, a reassurance that his legacy will endure. The land, as far as he can see in every direction, will belong to him and his descendants. And his seed? It will be as numerous as the sand of the sea, uncountable!

This isn’t just a real estate deal; it’s a covenant, a sacred pact.

It's a powerful reminder that even when things feel uncertain, even when those we care about make choices that worry us, there’s a larger plan at play. Avram's story, as told in Jubilees, is a evidence of faith, resilience, and the enduring power of divine promise. It asks us: can we trust in the bigger picture, even when we can't see the full canvas?

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Legends of the Jews 5:110Legends of the Jews

Things weren't exactly smooth sailing between them. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, the tension that was building between their servants had escalated to the point where it was impacting Abraham and Lot's relationship directly. Abraham, ever the man of peace, tried to reason with Lot. He wanted to hold him accountable for what he saw as "unbecoming behavior."

Here’s the thing: Lot wasn’t just disagreeing with Abraham about how to manage their households. He was drifting away from something far more fundamental.

Abraham realized that the situation had become untenable. He knew that he would have to part ways with his kinsman, even if it meant forcing the issue. The text says that Lot separated himself not from Abraham alone, but from the God of Abraham also. It wasn't just a geographical split; it was a spiritual one.

Lot chose to go his own way, toward a place where, sadly, immorality and sin were the norm. He “betook himself to a district in which immorality and sin reigned supreme,” as Legends of the Jews puts it. This, of course, foreshadows the fate that ultimately awaits him in Sodom.

And here’s the really poignant part: the text suggests that Lot’s own desires, “his own flesh,” ended up leading him astray. It’s a sobering reminder of how easily we can be seduced by our own impulses, especially when we're surrounded by negative influences.

It leaves you wondering, doesn't it? What could have been if Lot had stayed connected to Abraham, not just physically, but spiritually? It's a powerful lesson about the choices we make, the company we keep, and the path we choose to walk. Sometimes, the hardest separations are the ones that save us from ourselves.

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Jasher 19Book of Jasher

The familiar story centers on their destruction, but the Book of Jasher, a non-canonical Jewish text that elaborates on stories from the Hebrew Bible, really paints a vivid picture. Chapter 19 gives us some truly disturbing details.

It starts with the judges of Sodom and Gomorrah – Serak, Sharkad, Zabnac, and Menon. Eliezer, Abraham's servant, apparently had a few choice nicknames for them, changing their names to Shakra, Shakrura, Kezobim, and Matzlodin – perhaps a satirical commentary on their wickedness.

The real horror begins with the beds. Yes, beds. The people of Sodom, driven by their judges, set up beds in the streets. And if a stranger happened to wander into town, they'd be forced onto these beds. Six men would measure the poor soul, and if he was too short, they’d stretch him until he screamed. Too tall? They’d hack off bits of him until he fit. “Thus shall it be done to a man that cometh into our land,” they’d say. Can you imagine?

The cruelty didn't stop there. They'd give a poor man silver and gold, but then forbid anyone from giving him food. The Book of Jasher tells us that if the stranger died of hunger, the townspeople would snatch back their coins and even fight over his clothes before dumping his body in the desert.

Eliezer himself witnessed this depravity firsthand when he visited Sodom to check on Lot. He saw a Sodomite stripping a poor man and, intervening, was promptly stoned in the forehead. The attacker then demanded payment for removing the "bad blood"! When Eliezer refused, he was dragged before Shakra (the judge), who sided with the attacker. Eliezer, in a moment of grim justice, then stoned the judge, arguing that he should now pay the attacker, since he was the one enforcing the twisted law.

It’s a brutal, eye-for-an-eye moment.

The story then shifts to Lot's daughter, Paltith. A poor man was starving to death in Sodom, just as described earlier in the chapter. Moved by compassion, Paltith secretly fed him bread, hiding it in her water pitcher. People were amazed at how this man survived for so long without food. They spied on her, caught her in the act, and, according to the Book of Jasher, burned her alive for the crime of showing kindness.

A similar fate befell a young woman in Admah. She gave a thirsty traveler bread and water, and for that act of hospitality, she was covered in honey and left to be stung to death by bees. The text makes it clear: "Her cries ascended to heaven."

It's no wonder, then, that the Lord was provoked. The Book of Jasher emphasizes that Sodom and its sister cities were not suffering. They had plenty, but they refused to share. As it says, "they had abundance of food, and had tranquility amongst them, and still would not sustain the poor and the needy." This lack of compassion, this active cruelty, made their sins "great before the Lord."

This brings us to the familiar story of the angels' arrival, Lot's hospitality, and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Lot, his wife, and his daughters are warned to flee. But Lot’s wife, Ado, looks back. The Book of Jasher tells us it wasn’t out of mere curiosity, but because her compassion was moved for her daughters who remained in the city. And, as we know, she turned into a pillar of salt. A pillar of salt that, according to the Book of Jasher, was perpetually licked by oxen, only to regenerate each morning.

Lot and his two remaining daughters fled to a cave. Believing the world was destroyed, the daughters got their father drunk and slept with him. The resulting offspring were the ancestors of the Moabites and Ammonites. The firstborn called her son Moab, saying, "From my father did I conceive him." The younger also called her son Benami. It’s a disturbing conclusion to an already disturbing story.

Abraham, rising early the next morning, saw the smoke rising from the cities "like the smoke of a furnace."

So, what are we left with? The story of Sodom and Gomorrah isn't just about sexual sin, as it's often portrayed. The Book of Jasher highlights the utter lack of compassion, the institutionalized cruelty, and the horrific treatment of the vulnerable. It's a chilling reminder that a society's moral compass can become so twisted that even basic human kindness becomes a capital crime. And it leaves us to consider: what are the "Sodoms" of our own time, and what can we do to avoid repeating their mistakes?

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