You might think he'd be remembered with bitterness, given that Jerusalem fell during his reign. But, surprisingly, the legends paint a different picture. According to Legends of the Jews, Zedekiah's death was marked by deep mourning and sympathy. The elegy for him went something like this: "Alas that King Zedekiah had to die, he who quaffed the lees which all the generations before him accumulated."

Think about that for a moment. He drank the dregs, the bitter leftovers, of generations past. The text suggests that while the destruction happened under his watch, it wasn’t solely his fault. He reached a ripe old age, and the catastrophe was ultimately the nation’s collective guilt, not just the king’s.

And what about Babylon, the empire that destroyed Jerusalem? Did they get away with it? Not according to the legends.

The story goes that God chose Darius and Cyrus as instruments of divine vengeance. These weren’t just any kings; Cyrus was the king of Persia, and Darius, his father-in-law, ruled Media. Together, they marched against Belshazzar, the Chaldean ruler of Babylon.

The war was long and hard-fought, with the upper hand shifting constantly between the two sides. Finally, the Chaldeans seemed to clinch a decisive victory. Flush with triumph, Belshazzar threw a lavish banquet. And here's where things get really interesting.

He had the audacity to serve the banquet using vessels looted from the Temple in Jerusalem by his father. Can you imagine the sacrilege? It was a blatant act of defiance against God.

And God responded. In the midst of the feast, an angel appeared and wrote a cryptic message on the wall: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." These are Aramaic words written in Hebrew characters, inscribed in red ink, foretelling Belshazzar's doom.

But here’s the kicker: Only Belshazzar saw the angel. His nobles, lost in their drunken revelry, noticed nothing. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, even the king didn’t see the angel’s form, only his awe-inspiring fingers tracing those fateful words.

What does this tell us? Perhaps that those in power are often the last to see the writing on the wall. Or maybe that divine judgment is a deeply personal experience. Whatever it is, the story of Belshazzar serves as a potent reminder that actions have consequences, and that even the mightiest empires are not immune to divine retribution.