Genesis 19:33 is one of the most uncomfortable scenes in Torah, and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan does not look away.
"And they made their father drink wine that night, and he was drunk. And the elder arose, and lay with her father, nor did he know when she lay down, nor when she arose."
The rabbis of the Talmud (Nazir 23a, Horayot 10b) spent centuries arguing about how to read this verse. The plain reading says what it says: Lot's elder daughter got her father drunk and conceived by him. But the Targum, like most rabbinic literature, tries to account for the motive. The daughters believed, after fleeing Sedom and seeing their mother turned to salt and their sisters abandoned in a burning plain, that the human race itself was over. They thought they were the last three people on earth.
The verse, in Aramaic and Hebrew alike, pointedly emphasizes that Lot did not know. He is drunk enough to feel nothing, remember nothing, consent to nothing. The rabbis read this double insistence — "he knew not when she lay down, nor when she arose" — as both a legal defense of Lot and a quiet indictment of him. He should not have been drinking that deeply in the cave of his catastrophe.
What emerges from this night will be named Moab, "from the father," and the people descended from him will be one of Israel's longstanding enemies and, eventually, one of Israel's surprising ancestors through Ruth.
Targum Pseudo-Jonathan's restraint here is striking. It does not embellish. It does not moralize. It lets the scene be exactly as terrible as the Hebrew makes it.
The takeaway: catastrophe does not excuse every choice made in its wake. But it explains more than we usually want to admit.