Sisters at Sinai: New Tales of Biblical Women

The Revenge of Lot’s Wife

35 All the sacred gifts that the Israelites set aside for the Lord I give to you. . . as a due for all time. . . . It shall be an everlasting covenant of salt before the Lord, for you and for your offspring as well. —NUMBERS 18:19 S top scratching! Believe me, you don’t want this stuff under your fingernails. Sulfur and brimstone are bad for the circulation . Trust me. Wait a minute. Maybe I appreciate your scratching my nose, considering that it’s been four thousand years since I scratched it myself. I just want you to listen. Don’t call everyone else on the bus! Especially not that balding guy with the camera! And not that woman with the bottles of face cream! This is just between us. I have a sacred task for you to fulfill. I promise you’ll be rewarded with a place in heaven. What do you mean, you want the story? Are you a reporter? A novelist? Hasn’t your tour guide told you enough stories? I’m not a mosaic floor, you know. Some things are personal. Wait, don’t leave! I have something I need you to do! Your bus will be here for at least another twenty minutes! I’ll tell you the story! Yes, I’m Lot’s wife. I used to be his accountant, too, when he had all those sheep. I had four beautiful daughters and a nice house, THE REVENGE OF LOT’S WIFE k but terrible neighbors. Idit, my mother used to say to me, never mind how many rooms you have, the important thing is whether you can trust your neighbors. But did Lot listen to me? No. He listened to that real estate agent from Zoar. After that fight with Abraham and Sarah, Lot was looking for a big place to show off his success. Ten minutes from the marketplace, the guy said. Temples with the idol of your choice, conveniently located. When I heard we had to leave Sodom, I was thrilled. I hated the place. No good yogurt to be found, no one ever invited you for Shabbat, plus they stoned travelers all the time. You’d have been in hot water if you’d been here four thousand years ago. But I wanted to take all four of my daughters with me. I was getting the two younger ones packed. They were howling over their designer tunics, and I simply couldn’t leave the house. In any case, it was clear I couldn’t leave Milcah and Iscah with their father—he’d tried to throw them out of the house into a raging mob just to spare the feelings of our guests. I sent Lot out to find our married daughters, Avra and Ayala, and bring them and their good-for-nothing husbands with us. I didn’t want to lose any of them. My husband, may he rest in peace on a bed of burning thorns, neglected to inform my two older daughters that we were leaving. He told only his sons-inlaw , and they, naturally, refused to accompany us. No one ever takes advice from his father-in-law. I should have sent one of the angels. Needless to say, when Lot told me our two eldest weren’t coming, I was devastated. I was infinitely more devastated on the road to Zoar when I found out he hadn’t even asked them. In my agony, I spun around and around, first looking at my poor Milcah and Iscah, in exile, with pathetic small sacks on their backs, then looking at the city, wondering if I could still get Avra and Ayala out of there before the big bang. I looked at the mountains where Lot wanted to resettle my girls in 36 S I S T E R S A T S I N A I some damp, deserted cave. I looked at the beautiful stone buildings of Sodom, where my daughters were burning. I didn’t know where to fix my eyes. I kept whirling until I became completely exhausted, but I couldn’t stop. Then something stopped me, like a great hand squeezing my flesh. My skin began to harden, and I became a pillar of salt. Could God punish a mother for loving her daughters? No, I think it was a kind of mercy. I couldn’t bear to leave my older...