Skip to main content

Genesis 19: Guess What the Sodomites are Up to

Image result for sodom and gomorrah
Sodom & Gomorrah: Urban renewal, Biblical style


It's Thursday!  That means it's time for another chapter of the Bible, rewritten because, well... it just reads better this way!  Enjoy!

Lot was hanging out by the gate of Sodom where he met two angels.  He promptly stood up and bowed down.  “Please stay over at my place so I can wash your feet and you can get an early start tomorrow on your trip.”  As tempting an offer as it is to have a strange man grovel in front of you and beg to wash your feet in his house, the angels said, “No, we’ll just sleep in the town square.”  Could the town square at night really be less dangerous than the house of a guy with a foot fetish?  In Sodom, your chances were about 50/50.  But Lot, knowing that the sure way to get what you want is to keep on wheedling, eventually got them to come over and made them dinner.

They were still up when the house was surrounded by the locals, by every man in town.  “Lot!” they cried.  “Where are those guys you were talking to?  Send ‘em out!  We wanna do ‘em!”

Lot came to the door, locking it behind him, and said, “Aw, c’mon, don’t do that.  That’s gross and immoral.  Look, let’s keep this decent.  I’ve got two virgin daughters inside.  You can have them.  Just leave these guys alone, okay?  I’m looking after them, and I’ve got moral standards.”  The crowd wasn’t having it.  “Outta the way!  You’re just a damned immigrant, and now you’re trying to tell us how to live!  We value our culture, and we don’t like your foreign ways!  We wanted to rape the men in your house, and you tried to get us to rape your virgin daughters instead!  Since you won’t assimilate, you’re gonna get it worse than they were!  And then we’re gonna build a wall to keep your kind out!”  The angry, anti-immigrant mob pushed Lot away from the door, smashed the door in, and dragged him inside.  Somehow they shut the smashed door.  Before they set about what they were going to do, the lights went on, bright, so bright that no one could see a thing.

Then the angels said to Lot, “If you have any other family in this city, get ‘em out and get ‘em out now.  Sodom is going down.  Yahweh says he’s heard enough complaints, so it’s urban renewal time.”  Lot took off to find his daughters’ fiancés.  When he found them, he told them that Yahweh was going to burn the city down, and they did what anyone would do when a crazy old man tells you in the middle of the night that a divine force is going to burn you alive unless you start running right now: they laughed.

At the break of dawn, the angels told Lot to take his wife and daughters and leave, or they’d go down with the fiancés and the city and anyone else who was there.  Lot started to think that maybe this did sound a little crazy, and that maybe after staying up all through that crazy night, he might want to sleep on it first.  The angels weren’t having it, and they grabbed him, his wife and his daughters by their wrists and dragged them to Sodom’s city limits.

The angels said, “Run to the hills!  The desert is lovely this time of year.  When you’re gone, no rubbernecking!”  Lot still didn’t like it.  “Oh, come on!  You’ve done a lot for me by getting me out of the city and saving my life and all, but I can’t head out into the wilderness.  I’m a city dweller at heart!  Do you know what kind of restaurant delivery options are out there?  I’ll die!  At least let me go to that little town over there.  It’s a nice suburb, if a little rustic.”  One of the angels said, “Okay, I’ll do you a favor and won’t wreck that town, even though Yahweh doesn’t like it when we countermand Him.  So head on over there; we can’t get to the wrecking until you get there.  That’s why we’ll call that town Zoar.”

“Er… what?”

“We can’t destroy Sodom until you get to that town.  That’s why we’re going to call that town Zoar.”

“Zoar?” asked Lot.  “Why Zoar?”

“Because we can’t destroy Sodom until you get there.  That’s why.”

“Okay, but I don’t see the connection.  I mean, the town already has a very nice name, and now you’re going to call it Zoar, which I don’t get at all—“

“Quit stalling!”  And Lot and his wife and daughters were on their way.  Just as sunrise ended, they entered Zoar, eager to tell the locals that their town had been renamed for some reason.  But first came the fireworks.  Yahweh tore into Sodom with fire and brimstone—the literal kind—and also wrecked Gomorrah, which also must have been pretty bad, but it couldn’t have been as bad as Sodom, since sodomy was frequently a crime in the millennia following this day, but no one was every convicted of gomorrahy.  Both cities and the plain around them were incinerated, killing every human, animal and plant.  Lot’s wife apparently wasn’t listening when the angels warned them about watching the mess and was turned into a pillar of salt because… because… well, just because.

The next morning, Abraham looked up and saw that God had indeed gone ahead and trashed both cities, where there were fewer than ten decent citizens each.  There were possibly two decent citizens in Sodom—Lot’s daughters’ fiancés—but two is less than ten, so there it is.

The newly widowed Lot, deciding that he didn’t like Zoar so much after all, did head for the hills where he set up housekeeping in a nice cave with his two daughters, which solved all his problems.

His daughters felt differently about it and they had a discussion.  “Dad’s old and there’s no one here to marry us in a normal ceremony.  Plus we had perfectly good fiancés incinerated back home.  So there’s only one decent way to preserve our genes: let’s get Dad drunk and have sex with him, for the good of family values.”  That night they got their father smashed and somehow slept with him without him knowing about it.  Both got pregnant by their father.  The elder daughter named her boy Moab, who eventually fathered a race called the Moabites; the younger daughter named her boy Ben-Ammi, who eventually fathered a race called the Ammonites; and everyone learned the lesson that sodomy is icky but that incest is just fine.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How the Lemon was Invented

Lemons How do you make a lemon?  Silly question, isn’t it?  You just take the seeds out of one and plant them, and wait for the tree to come up, right?  That’s true, but it hasn’t always been that easy.  Lemons today are a widely cultivated citrus fruit, with a flavor used in cuisines of countries where no lemon tree would ever grow.  You might think that it was just a matter of ancient peoples finding the trees, enjoying their fruit and growing more of them, but that’s not true.  The lemon is a human invention that’s maybe only a few thousand years old. The first lemons came from East Asia, possibly southern China or Burma.  (These days, some prefer to refer to Burma as Myanmar .  I’ll try to stay out of that controversy here and stick to fruit.)  The exact date of the lemon’s first cultivation is not known, but scientists figure it’s been around for more than 4,000 years.  The lemon is a cross breed of several fruits.  One fruit is the bitter orange, best known in the west for

Origins of the Word Hoser, eh?

Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas as cultural icons Bob and Doug McKenzie These days we often hear Canadians referred to as “Hosers”.  It’s a strange word, and it sounds a little insulting, but it’s sometimes used more with affection than malice.  Any such word is difficult to use correctly, especially if you don’t belong to the group the word describes.   I can’t say I feel comfortable throwing the word around, myself, but I can offer a little information about it that might shed some light on what it means. First off: is it an insult?  Yes… and no.   The word hoser can be used as an insult or as a term of endearment; the variation hosehead , is certainly an insult.  It’s a mild insult, meaning something like jerk or idiot or loser .  Its origin is unclear, and there are several debatable etymologies of the word.  One claims that it comes from the days before the zamboni was invented, when the losing team of an outdoor ice hockey game would have to hose down the rink in or

The Whoopie Cap

What can you do with your father’s old hats?  If you were born after, say, 1955, the answer is probably “Not much.”  Men were still wearing fedoras in the 1970s and 1980s, but by 1990, fashion had turned to the point where unless you were Indiana Jones, the hat didn’t look right.  Some blame Jack Kennedy for starting it all, strutting around perfectly coiffed and bare-headed in the early 1960s.  In 1953, Harry Truman, a haberdasher by trade, stepped out of office, and just eight years later we had a president who didn’t care for hats?  The times, they were a-changin’. If you set the WABAC machine to the 1920s or 1930s (when Indiana Jones was supposed to have lived), you would see the fedora was still very much in style.  Men just didn’t leave the house without a hat of some kind, and for what remained of the middle class, the fedora was the topper of choice.  But like any other piece of clothing, hats wear out, too.  When that happened, you’d just throw it away.  Though if there were