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The Spring at Shittim Had Once Watered Sodom

For generations no one drew from the spring at Shittim. Then Israel arrived at the edge of the promised land, needed water, found the well, and drank.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. A Spring with a History No One Talked About
  2. What the Water Did
  3. The Nations Were Watching
  4. What the Spring at Shittim Was Connected To

A Spring with a History No One Talked About

They had been in the desert for forty years. Water was not something you turned away from when you found it. When the camp of Israel reached Shittim at the edge of Canaan, at the Jordan's edge, and found a spring, they drank. There was no marker on it. No warning inscribed in stone. The spring sat there as springs do, available and cold, and the people who needed water took what it offered.

The tradition recorded in the Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's compilation published between 1909 and 1938, drawing from the aggadic sources in Numbers Rabbah (5th-century Palestine), knew what that spring was. It was called, in the rabbinic literature, the Well of Lewdness. Its water had once been the primary supply of Sodom itself. When God destroyed Sodom with fire and sulfur, the cities turned to ash and the plain turned to salt and the civilization built on the banks of the Jordan basin was erased. But the spring remained. The water kept flowing from the same source, through the same ground. No one drew from it for generations. No one dared.

What the Water Did

Israel came to Shittim and drank and did not know what they were drinking from. The tradition is careful about what it claims the water actually did. It does not describe a poison that produced specific symptoms. It does not say the water made men violent or ill or immediately transgressive. What it says is that before Israel drank from Shittim's spring, they were known for their chastity. After, they were not. The change took the form of a sequence: the Moabite women at the tent entrances, the linen goods and the genuinely attractive prices, the wine inside, the younger women and their kinship appeals and their concealed idols. But the tradition roots that sequence in the water the people had been drinking, in the invisible inheritance that Sodom had left behind in the soil and the aquifer beneath Shittim's ground.

This is how the rabbis explained why the same people who had maintained their integrity through forty years of desert hardship, through slavery and plagues and the wilderness, could fall so quickly into the worship of Peor. The forty years had not changed them. Shittim's spring changed them. They had walked into something ancient and contaminated without knowing it, because it looked like an ordinary well in an ordinary campsite on the edge of the Jordan.

The Nations Were Watching

When Israel sinned at Shittim, the surrounding nations saw it happen and understood something had shifted. The Ginzberg tradition records their reaction with precision: "the crown has been taken from Israel's head," they said. "Now they are no better than us." This was not simple opportunistic gloating. It was a theological claim. The nations had observed, correctly or incorrectly, that Israel's invincibility derived from their moral distinctiveness. A people kept by God, backed by covenant faithfulness and accumulated righteousness - that was what they had been watching advance through the wilderness for forty years. The moment those people sinned publicly and conspicuously, the nations believed the protection was gone.

They were partly right about the mechanism and completely wrong about the conclusion. God did not abandon Israel at Shittim. God sent a plague that killed twenty-four thousand of the sinners, which is not abandonment but a very particular form of engagement. The nations had understood that sin had consequences within the covenant. They had not understood that the covenant itself survived the sin. They had expected the sin to function as an exit, as a permanent break between Israel and their God. What they witnessed instead was a plague, a crisis, a young priest driving a lance through the most prominent sinner in the camp, the plague stopping, and Israel standing on the east bank of the Jordan ready to cross.

What the Spring at Shittim Was Connected To

The wicked judges of Sodom, whose names Abraham's servant Eliezer knew well enough to rename to better reflect their true characters - the Liar of Gomorrah, the Arch-deceiver of Admah, the Perverter of Judgment of Zeboiim - had built their courts on the banks of the same water source that Israel was now drinking from. The civilization of Sodom had been built on a specific principle: the perversion of hospitality, the inversion of justice, the weaponization of the social bonds that are supposed to protect the vulnerable. They had turned the form of welcome against its content.

What happened at Shittim was the same operation, run in the same place, from the same source. The Moabite women offered genuine linen goods at genuine prices and genuine wine and genuine kinship appeals and then produced an idol from beneath their clothing. The form of hospitality carried a weapon inside it, just as Sodom's courts had done. The spring that connected Shittim to Sodom was not incidental to the parallel. It was the midrash's way of saying that the same spiritual current ran through both, and that water drawn from that source was already compromised before anyone drank it.


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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 6:70Legends of the Jews

Why the glee? Because, according to this legend (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, Vol. 3, p. 311), the other nations understood something profound: God had chosen Israel, had given them the Torah, precisely because of their moral purity. It wasn't just blind favoritism, it was about their character. Their integrity.

"Now," these nations gloated, "the crown has been taken from Israel's head, their pride is departed, for now they are no better than we." Ouch. They believed Israel had squandered its special status, becoming just another run-of-the-mill, morally compromised nation. The very thing that set them apart, their commitment to a higher standard, had vanished.

God, seeing the depths of Israel's fall, doesn't abandon them. Instead, He sends a plague upon the sinners at Shittim. Harsh? Maybe. But the purpose, according to the legend, was purification. A cleansing.

The legend concludes that through this harrowing experience, Israel could once again be proud of their lineage, their commitment to God's laws, the very things that distinguished them from all other nations. They learned, perhaps the hard way, that their special relationship with God wasn't a free pass, but a responsibility. A responsibility to live up to the high standards He had set for them.

So, what does this all mean for us today? Maybe it's a reminder that being "chosen," whatever that means in your own life, isn't a guarantee of success or moral superiority. It’s an ongoing process of striving, of falling, and of rising again, hopefully a little wiser each time. It is about the constant struggle to live up to the values we claim to hold dear, even when it's difficult.

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Legends of the Jews 5:149Legends of the Jews

Fire and brimstone, a pillar of salt, and some very unhappy angels. But the details… the details are truly something else.

The Ginzberg’s Legends of the Jews says it wasn’t just Sodom that was corrupt. Oh no, it was a whole network of cities, each with its own brand of wickedness. Sodom had its judge, naturally, a man perfectly suited to its depravity. But so did Gomorrah, Admah, and Zeboiim.

Abraham’s servant, Eliezer – yes, that Eliezer – he knew these judges and their reputations well. He even tweaked their names to better reflect their true nature. Ginzberg tells us Eliezer called the judge in Gomorrah “Shakkara,” or “Liar.” The one in Admah? “Shakrura,” the “Arch-deceiver.” And the Zeboiim judge? He earned the moniker “Mazle-Din,” meaning “Perverter of Judgment.” The fourth judge was called Kazban, Falsifier.

Here's where the story takes a truly bizarre turn. At the urging of these delightfully awful judges, the cities came up with a unique, shall we say, hospitality policy.

Imagine this: a stranger arrives, seeking shelter, a bit of food, maybe just a friendly face. Instead, bam! Six men descend upon him. Three grab his head, three seize his feet, and they drag him to… a bed. But not just any bed. This was a special bed, a communal bed, erected specifically for this purpose.

They force the poor traveler onto this bed. If he's too short to fit perfectly, they stretch him, pull him, wrench his limbs until he fills the space. Think medieval torture device. And if he's too long? Well, they try to cram him in anyway, forcing him down with all their might until he’s practically suffocating. It's a scene straight out of a nightmare.

Can you imagine the screams? The terror? And what happened if the victim cried out? “Thus will be done to any man that comes into our land.” That’s all. A chillingly simple, utterly inhumane response.

What are we to make of such a story? It's more than just a gruesome anecdote. It paints a picture of a society utterly devoid of compassion, where cruelty is not just tolerated but institutionalized. The story highlights the depths to which human beings can sink when empathy is lost and injustice reigns. It is a dark reminder of what can happen when societies lose their moral compass. It makes you think about the values we hold dear, doesn't it? And what we're willing to do to protect them.

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Legends of the Jews 6:56Legends of the Jews

Sometimes, the answer might be… in the water. the environment around us shapes us. And according to some fascinating legends, that influence can be incredibly literal.

The Israelites, after their long journey, found themselves in a place called Shittim. And Shittim, it turns out, had a secret. A watery one.

Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, tells us about the "Well of Lewdness" that was located there. Now, this wasn't just any well. Apparently, certain springs, have the power to affect those who drink from them in profound ways. Some waters strengthen, others weaken. Some beautify, others… not so much. And this particular well? Well, it had a rather unfortunate side effect.

The legend goes that this very well was once used by the inhabitants of Sodom. That Sodom. The one synonymous with sin. But after the destruction of those cities, no one dared to drink from it. Until the Israelites arrived.

Before they tasted its waters, the Israelites were known for their chastity. But then… things changed. As soon as they partook of this water, they abandoned their previously chaste ways. It’s a stark reminder of how easily we can be swayed, how vulnerable we are to subtle influences.

It's a wild idea, isn’t it? A well literally influencing the morality of an entire people.

So, is it a literal well, or a metaphor for the seductive temptations that surround us? Maybe both.

But here's the kicker: this "disastrous spring," as Ginzberg calls it, isn’t permanent. The legend says that it will lose its power, dry up completely, only in the Messianic time. When things are set right. When the world is healed.

Until then, maybe we all need to be a little more careful about what we're drinking… metaphorically speaking, of course. What influences are we allowing into our lives? What "wells" are we drawing from? It's a question worth pondering.

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