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Sodom Took the Mercy Rain as Proof That No One Was Watching

Lot set unleavened cakes in front of two travelers and it only seemed to him that they ate. Before the night ended the whole city was at his door.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Rain Came Down First
  2. A City With Nothing to Be Afraid Of
  3. Lot Sat in the Gate at Evening
  4. The Whole City Came to the Door
  5. The Little Hour He Asked For
  6. Smoke Going Up Like a Furnace
Sodom Took the Mercy Rain as Proof That No One Was Watching Click for full size

The Rain Came Down First

Before the fire, God sent rain over Sodom and Gomorrah. Showers of favor, dropped on the two cities so that the people in them would turn around while there was still time to turn around.

They stood in it and worked out what it meant. "If this is what falls on us," they said, "then wickedness is not visible to God. He is not looking, or He cannot see, or He does not mind." They went back indoors with their crops watered and the question settled.

A City With Nothing to Be Afraid Of

Nothing threatened Sodom. No army massed on any border, no season of want, no rival close enough to matter. The people lived at ease, in houses safe from fear, filled up on everything the ground could produce.

And when a hungry man came through, they did not put a loaf in his hand.

That was the whole charge against them. Not idols, not sorcery, not blood on an altar. Pride, a full stomach, an easy life, and a hand that never opened for anyone poor. A city that had received more than it needed had made a policy out of passing none of it on.

Lot Sat in the Gate at Evening

Two travelers came in at dusk and Lot got up from his place at the gate and went to meet them and bowed his face to the ground. "Come to my house," he said. "Wash your feet, sleep, leave in the morning."

"No," they said. "We will sleep in the street."

He kept at them until they gave in and came with him. He made them a meal and baked unleavened cakes and set the food down, and it seemed to him that they ate.

The Whole City Came to the Door

They had not lain down yet when the men of Sodom came around the house. Every man in the place, from the boys to the old, the whole city standing in the street.

"Where are the men who came in with you tonight. Bring them out to us."

Lot came out and pulled the door shut behind him and stood on his own step. He offered them his two daughters. He offered to hand over his children if they would leave the men under his roof alone.

"Get out of the way. This one came here on his own to live among us and now he sets himself up to judge all of us. We will do worse to you than to them."

They came at him hard and pressed up to the door to break it in. Two hands came out, took hold of Lot, pulled him inside, and shut the door. Then the men in the street were struck across the eyes, the young ones and the old ones together, and the whole crowd stayed out there in the dark wearing itself out trying to find a doorway.

Lot went out again later that night to his sons-in-law, the men who had married his daughters, and told them the Lord was about to destroy the city and they should get up and come. They looked at him the way you look at a man ranting in the street.

The Little Hour He Asked For

At first light the two were urgent with him. "Get up. Take your wife and your two daughters, or you go down with the rest of the city."

He delayed. He stood in his own house doing sums. What a loss, he was thinking, the silver and the gold, the gems, the jewels. So they took hold of his hand and his wife's hand and the hands of both daughters and set the four of them down outside the wall. Then one of the two turned and went back into Sodom to destroy it, and the other one stayed.

"Wait with me a little hour," Lot said. "Let me pray for mercy first."

He would not run for the mountain. He wanted the small city on the plain, the near one. "It is little," he argued, "and its guilt is light." He got it. The sun had crossed the sea and come up over the land, three hours into the day, when Lot walked into Tzoar.

Smoke Going Up Like a Furnace

Then the sulphur and the fire came down out of heaven, and the cities went, and the whole plain with them, and everyone living in them, and the grass off the face of the ground.

His wife looked back to see how it would end for her father's house, because she was a daughter of Sodom herself, and she was left standing in the road as a figure of salt.

Abraham got up early and walked out to the place where he had stood praying about those cities, and looked south across the plain. The smoke of the whole country was going up like the smoke of a furnace.

He had talked God down to ten. There had not been ten.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Targum Jonathan on Genesis 19Targum Jonathan

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Targum of Jonathan ben Uzziel, trans. J. W. Etheridge, London, 1862 · Public Domain

The destruction of Sodom in Genesis 19 is swift and merciless. Fire and brimstone rain down, and the city is gone. But the Targum Jonathan inserts a detail that changes everything: before the fire, God sent mercy.

"The Word of the Lord had caused showers of favour to descend upon Sedom and Amorah, to the intent that they might work repentance, but they did it not." Rain came first. Blessing came first. The people of Sodom looked at the showers and concluded that "wickedness is not manifest before the Lord", that God either did not see or did not care. Only then did the sulfur and fire fall "from before the Word of the Lord from Heaven."

This theological addition is pure Targum. It does not exist in the Hebrew text. The translators refused to let God destroy a city without first offering a way out.

The Targum reshapes the rest of the narrative with similar precision. When two angels arrive in Sodom, Lot greets them and prepares unleavened cakes. And "it seemed to him as if they did eat." Like Abraham's visitors in the previous chapter, these angels only appeared to consume food. When the mob surrounds Lot's house, the angels strike the attackers with "a suffusion of the eyes", not blindness, but a confusion of vision that left them groping uselessly for the door.

As the angels lead Lot's family out of the city, the Targum adds a striking detail about the division of labor: "one of them returned into Sedom to destroy it, and one remained with Lot." One angel, one task, the same rule established in Genesis 18. Lot begs for time: "I beseech of thee, endure with me a little hour, until I have prayed for mercy from before the Lord." He negotiates to flee to the small city of Zoar, arguing that "it is small, and the guilt thereof light."

The timing is precise in a way the Hebrew is not. "The sun had passed the sea, and come forth upon the earth, at the end of three hours, and Lot entered into Zoar." Three hours after sunrise, the destruction began.

Then comes Lot's wife. The Hebrew says only that she "looked back" and became a pillar of salt. The Targum explains why she looked and why salt was the punishment. "She looked after the angel, to know what would be in the end of her father's house, for she was of the daughters of the Sedomaee." She was from Sodom. She looked back out of loyalty to her own people. And "because she sinned by salt, bemilcha, she was manifestly punished" with salt. The word play in the Aramaic connects her crime to her fate.

Meanwhile Abraham stood at the place where he had prayed, watching smoke rise from the plain "as the smoke of a furnace." God remembered Abraham's righteousness and pulled Lot from the wreckage. But Lot's rescue was Abraham's merit, not his own.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 25:7Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, trans. Rabbi Gerald Friedlander, London (1916) · CC-BY

Sometimes, the answer is far more insidious, far more…internal.

Let’s turn our gaze to the story of Sodom, a name that has become synonymous with wickedness. But what really happened there? What was the specific sin that led to its destruction?

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval text, offers a chilling insight. It wasn't just about abstract evil, it was about something far more concrete: a failure of basic human decency.

The people of Sodom, we're told, lived in a state of unprecedented security. “They were dwelling in security without care and at ease, without the fear of war from all their surroundings,” Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer recounts, echoing the Book of Job (21:9): "Their houses are safe from fear." Imagine that for a moment – a society completely free from external threats. Sounds idyllic. But here's the catch. This security bred complacency. They were “sated with all the produce of the earth." They had everything they could possibly need. And what did they do with it? They hoarded it. They became selfish.

The text is blunt: "…but they did not strengthen with the loaf of bread either the hand of the needy or of the poor.” They failed to support those less fortunate than themselves. They turned a blind eye to suffering.

This echoes the prophet Ezekiel's indictment of Sodom (Ezekiel 16:49): "Behold, this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom; pride, fulness of bread, and prosperous ease was in her and in her daughters; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy." It wasn’t some mysterious, unspeakable act that condemned them; it was a fundamental lack of compassion, a callous disregard for the vulnerable. It wasn't necessarily that they were actively malicious (though other texts certainly paint them as such!). It was their inaction, their refusal to share their abundance, that ultimately led to their downfall. Their sin was one of omission, not commission. They had the power to alleviate suffering, and they chose not to.

Perhaps it’s a reminder that true security isn't just about physical safety or economic prosperity. It's about the moral fabric of a society. It's about how we treat the most vulnerable among us. It's about recognizing our shared humanity and acting with compassion.

The story of Sodom isn’t just an ancient cautionary tale. It’s a mirror reflecting our own choices. Are we building a society where everyone thrives, or are we, like the people of Sodom, turning a blind eye to the suffering around us? What kind of world are we creating, with the choices we make every single day?

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Bereshit Rabbah 50:11Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The story of Lot and the destruction of Sodom, as explored in Bereshit Rabbah 50, is a stark reminder of how attachment to material possessions can cloud our judgment and even endanger our lives.

The Torah tells us in (Genesis 19:16) that Lot "hesitated" as the angels urged him to flee the doomed city. But the Hebrew word used, vayitmama, suggests something more than simple hesitation. The Rabbis, in Bereshit Rabbah, see it as "wonderment after wonderment," a kind of stunned disbelief at the prospect of losing his wealth. He was thinking, “What a great loss of silver, gold, gems, and jewels!"

Lot's "great wealth caused him to hesitate to leave the city, thus endangering his life," the text explains. And it leads to a powerful statement: “Wealth is accrued for its owner to his detriment” (Ecclesiastes 5:12).

Bereshit Rabbah doesn't stop there. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi applies this to Lot, but then Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman extends it to Korah, whose wealth led to arrogance and rebellion against Moses (Numbers 16). Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon sees it in Navot, who died rather than part with his inherited land (I Kings 21). Rabbi Levi even applies it to Haman, whose pride, fueled by wealth, ultimately led to his downfall. And Rabbi Yitzḥak connects it to the tribes of Reuben and Gad (Numbers 32), whose focus on their cattle led them to choose a territory that resulted in their exile. Some even say it applies to Job, who lost his wealth only to have it restored!

It's a recurring theme: the danger of clinging too tightly to earthly possessions.

But the story doesn't just dwell on Lot's hesitation. (Genesis 19:16) tells us, "the men grasped his hand, and the hand of his wife, and the hand of his two daughters; out of the compassion of the Lord for him, they took him out, and placed him outside the city.” Who were these "men"? The Rabbis suggest it was Refael, an angel. But hold on – the verse uses plural language. How can one angel be "they"? The answer lies in the subsequent verse, they say, which uses the singular "he said," indicating that one angel was leading the rescue.

And then there's the instruction: "Flee to the mountain." But why the mountain? Bereshit Rabbah offers a beautiful interpretation: the mountain represents the merit of Abraham. The angels were telling Lot to flee to the protection of Abraham's righteousness! This is why the verse uses mountains as a metaphor for Israel's three patriarchs: “Leaping on the mountains” (Song of Songs 2:8)

Lot resists. "Please, no, my lords," he pleads (Genesis 19:18). He argues that he can't flee to the mountain. Why? Rabbi Berekhya and Rabbi Levi, in the name of Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina, offer a profound insight: Lot felt that in the presence of someone as righteous as Abraham, his own merits would pale in comparison. It's like the woman from Tzarefat telling Elijah, "Did you come to me to evoke my sin and to kill my son?" (I (Kings 17:1)8). Before, she was the most righteous in her city, but next to Elijah, her deeds seemed insignificant. Lot felt the same way about Abraham.

Rabbi Berekhya makes another keen observation: "Just as a bad locale is challenging, so a good locale can be challenging." Lot was used to the valley, to Sodom. The mountain, though a place of safety and righteousness, was unfamiliar and therefore daunting. Even moving from a bad situation to a good one can present its own set of difficulties.

Finally, Lot proposes an alternative: a small, nearby city. "Here now, this city is near to flee there, and it is small; please, I will escape there. Is it not small, and my life will be saved" (Genesis 19:20). And God grants his request. Rabbi Ḥalafta of Caesarea sees in this a powerful message: if Lot, merely for hosting an angel, received such favor, how much more favor will God show to Israel because of their ancestors' merits? “the Lord will show you favor” (Numbers 6:26).

Perhaps it's a reminder to examine our own attachments. What are we clinging to that might be hindering our growth, our safety, our ability to embrace a better future? And are we willing to step outside our comfort zones, even when that means facing the daunting prospect of change, or feeling inadequate in the presence of greatness?

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