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Why Zoar Survived When Four Other Cities Burned

The angels pointed Lot toward Abraham's tent. He would not go. Next to his uncle, God would weigh them side by side.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Lot Would Not Go Back
  2. He Asked for the Youngest City
  3. The Beds in the Street
  4. Dawn on the Sixteenth of Nisan
  5. Four Cities Went Dark
Why Zoar Survived When Four Other Cities Burned Click for full size

Lot Would Not Go Back

The angels seized Lot's hands and pulled him toward the gate. Behind him the street of Sodom was already finishing its last night. Smoke had not started. The judges had gone home. They told him to flee to the hills. They told him to take refuge with Abraham.

He would not go.

"As long as I dwelt apart from Abraham," he said, "God compared my deeds with the deeds of my fellow-citizens, and among them I appeared as a righteous man. If I should return to Abraham, God will see that his good deeds outweigh mine."

He had sat at Sodom's gate for years. He had watched its courts and stayed. Abraham had argued with God over the city's fate and ridden out after an army to rescue this same nephew. Lot knew the weighing. Next to that tent he would not look like a righteous man. He would look like a relative.

He Asked for the Youngest City

So he asked for Zoar. A small city. A near city. A city he could reach before the fire did.

The angel granted the plea. Zoar had been founded a year later than Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, and Zeboiim. It was fifty-one years old. Its sins were real. They were also recent. The measure of its wickedness had not yet filled to the brim the way the other four had filled.

Lot ran for it. He did not look back. He had chosen a city young enough to still be standing when he arrived. Small enough that he would not have to stand beside Abraham in it.

The Beds in the Street

The four cities that were about to burn had not become themselves in a year. They had judges. Serak in Sodom, Sharkad in Gomorrah, Zabnac in Admah, Menon in Zeboiim. By their desire the people set beds in the streets. If a stranger came, they laid hold of him and made him lie down. Three men stood at his head and three at his feet and measured him by the bed. If he was shorter, they stretched him. If he was longer, they crushed the frame inward until he reached the gates of death. When he cried, they answered, "Thus shall it be done to a man that cometh into our land."

A poor man they gave silver and gold. Then they proclaimed that no one should give him a morsel of bread. When he died they came back for the coins. They stripped him, fought over his garments, and buried him under desert shrubs.

Eliezer, Abraham's servant, came once to ask after Lot. He found a man of Sodom stripping a stranger. He stepped in. The man of Sodom hit him in the forehead with a stone. Blood ran. Then the man caught Eliezer and demanded hire for having let the bad blood out, because such was the law in that land. Cruelty had become civic work. It took generations to build a court that could do that with a straight face. Zoar had not had the generations.

Dawn on the Sixteenth of Nisan

The fire came at dawn on the sixteenth of Nisan. The hour was chosen. Among the inhabitants of the plain were worshippers of the sun and worshippers of the moon. If the cities fell by day, the moon worshippers would say their protector had been absent. If they fell by night, the sun worshippers would say the same of theirs.

God set the blow for the hour when both lights were in the sky. The sun was there. The moon was there. Neither saved anyone.

The sun had risen over the earth when Lot reached Zoar (Genesis 19:23). He came in under both lamps, into a city fifty-one years old, while the plain behind him began to go white.

Four Cities Went Dark

Sodom burned. Gomorrah burned. Admah burned. Zeboiim burned. The beds in the streets went under. The judges' names went under. The girl in Admah who had given water to a stranger and been killed for it went under. All of that in one morning.

Zoar stood. Lot reached it on his feet. The little city was still there because it had not yet had time to become what the others had become. A man running from a fire had refused the tent that would have made him look small.

Behind him the plain smoked. Ahead of him a gate was still a gate. He went through it and did not go to Abraham.

SodomLotAngelsDivine JusticeZoar
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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.

Jasher 19Book of Jasher

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Book of Jasher, J. H. Parry edition (1887) · Public Domain

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.

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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Legends of the Jews 5:175Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Take the story of Lot, Abraham's nephew, and the destruction of Sodom.

The familiar story is this:. God, disgusted by the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah, decides to destroy them. But Abraham pleads for the cities, bargaining with God, hoping to save them if even a handful of righteous people can be found. Angels are sent to rescue Lot and his family.

Here's a fascinating detail you might not have heard. According to Legends of the Jews, which draws on various Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sources, the angel sent to save Lot actually urged him to seek refuge with his uncle, Abraham.

Here's where Lot's internal struggle becomes so relatable. He refused! Why? Because, as he put it, "As long as I dwelt apart from Abraham, God compared my deeds with the deeds of my fellow-citizens, and among them I appeared as a righteous man. If I should return to Abraham, God will see that his good deeds outweigh mine by far."

Wow. for a second. Lot was afraid of being seen as less righteous, of being overshadowed by Abraham's greatness. He preferred to be a "big fish in a small pond," even if that pond was about to be swallowed by fire and brimstone. It's a powerful illustration of how our egos can sometimes get in the way of our own salvation.

The story doesn't end there. Lot then pleaded with the angel to spare the city of Zoar (Tzohar, meaning "smallness"). And the angel granted his request. Why Zoar? Because, as Ginzberg’s Legends of the Jews explains, Zoar was a relatively young city, only fifty-one years old, founded a year later than the other four. Therefore, "the measure of its sins was not so full as the measure of the sins of the neighboring cities."

That the relative youth of a city, the "measure of its sins," could be a factor in its survival. It speaks to the idea that even in the face of divine judgment, there's room for nuance, for a weighing of merits and demerits.

So, what do we take away from this little corner of the Sodom story? Perhaps it's a reminder to be wary of the comparisons we make, to not let the fear of being "less than" keep us from seeking out the company of those who inspire us. And maybe, just maybe, it's a call to remember that even in the darkest of times, there's always the possibility of finding a little Zoar, a small haven of hope, a place where the measure of sin hasn't quite overflowed. A place where we can begin again.

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Legends of the Jews 5:176Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Sodom did not burn at a random hour. In Legends of the Jews, the timing of dawn becomes part of the judgment.

The Ginzberg's says retelling in Legends of the Jews, the destruction didn't just happen randomly. It was timed, precisely, for a very specific reason.

The story goes that the cities of the plain were destroyed at dawn on the sixteenth day of Nisan, a Hebrew month, usually falling in March-April. Now, why that particular moment? Well, it all boils down to the inhabitants and their, shall we say, alternative religious practices.

these folks were moon and sun worshippers. And God, as the story goes, wanted to make a point. A pretty big one. "If I destroy them by day," God said, "the moon worshippers will say, 'Were the moon here, she would prove herself our savior.'" And, of course, if the destruction happened at night, the sun worshippers would say the same about their deity.

So, what's a Divine Being to do? The solution, according to this legend, was to wait for a time when both the sun and the moon were visible in the sky. Thus, the sixteenth day of Nisan at dawn. A time when neither celestial body could claim to be absent, a time when neither could be invoked as a potential savior.

As we find in Legends of the Jews, it was a deliberate act, carefully orchestrated. It wasn't just about punishing wickedness; it was about challenging the very foundations of their misguided beliefs.

Pretty powerful stuff. It makes you think. How often do we attribute events to chance or circumstance, when perhaps there's a deeper, more intentional timing at play? Maybe the universe, or God, or whatever you want to call it, has a way of making things happen at precisely the moment they need to, to drive home a particular lesson. Just something to consider.

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