The Book of Genesis

Chapter 19

Lot’s Wife Speaks

I must tell you while I can. I have seen them, the men with wings. I have seen the wings. They are lurking here and night is falling.

I cannot forgive my husband. He has offered our daughters to the monsters at the door. He has offered them as sacrifices to suffer brutalities more atrocious than death. He has offered them in exchange, as replacements for the winged men. He has offered them as barter, as if they were barley.

The monsters want those winged men; they want to make them scream. Perhaps they want to sever their wings.

Perhaps they want to sell the wings. Perhaps they want the novelty of new men.

Fortunately the monsters have rejected my daughters; they only want the winged men for their feast. But I can never forgive my husband for extending his offer, that heartless offer. He would sacrifice his daughters for the sake of strangers. He is blinded by monsters.

In the beginning there was the moon, the beautiful crescent of our Mother. The fields were fertile. Our Mother gave us life and bounty.

But I married a man who was a climber. I abandoned my Mother, my honor for the sacred earth.

It is dark now. The night is filled with terror. The monsters are at the door, pounding.

A winged one opens the door and lets off some light. The monsters back up and start falling over each other.

If only we could have been content with what we had at first. If only we had been content with simple things. We never would have come here.

I must find some rest.

My daughters have managed to fall asleep. I will wait beside them. If my husband offers them again, I will offer myself instead. I would rather die than see my beloved children consumed by wretched monsters. How can my husband not share this feeling? How he shames me.

I watch my daughters as they sleep. Only yesterday they were children, playing with calves, running in the fields. They do not know about the fate they almost suffered at the hands of their father. I fear for them – I fear they may inherit his poor judgment.

Someone approaches. Who is there?

He is shining.

He does have wings. It is hard to ignore those wings.

He asks how I know that he is a he. Such a question.

“Only men have power in this land,” I tell him.

He disagrees. He says he is an angel, neither male nor female, but both combined equally.

I laugh. I have to laugh. The absurdity of all of this, trading our lives for money; we never should have stopped here on our way up the mountain. Now I don’t know where we will go. I just want the monsters to go away.

The angel warns that we must leave. The whole city will be destroyed.

“Never trade with monsters,” the angel tells me, insisting that this is the greatest lesson.

“Why did you come here?” I ask.

“Our Mother sent us,” the angel confides, a few minutes later.

We are silent.

“Why do those men at the door keep acting like monsters?” I ask the angel finally.

The angel considers the question for a few moments and then says, “They are a society out of balance. They seek only to possess the goods of the earth, but they do not appreciate Her blessings. They rape the earth, forgetting to honor and to thank Her for Her gifts.”

The air is still but thick and briny, like the stagnant sea below us.

The angel pauses, then continues, “There is no sin in love. Some men fall in love with other men and that is sacred and honorable. It is as sacred and honorable as any other kind of love. Our Holy Mother gives us love as a gift – it is the feeling of devotion and compassion we have toward another. But there is no gift in violence – there is nothing good about violence. And the monsters out there are violent with each other – they copulate without love. They rape each other. If those men loved one another, they would form holy unions with each other and they would share their bodies tenderly. But they are confused; they choose power over love. They seek power over the earth, power over each other… They have forgotten the spirit that binds us all and guides us. They have forgotten their Mother and the gifts of the earth. Better off to let them burn.”

I am not so sure of this. Maybe no one should have to burn.

And as if able to read my thoughts, the angel responds, “Well, it really is just a coincidence, anyway. We’re not causing this fire, you know. This land is going to burn for reasons beyond our control. We’re just here as messengers -- to tell you and your family to leave, because you, at least, seem to have some sense of compassion. But your husband shouldn’t have offered your daughters in our place. That’s going to be a problem.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“In the long run, down the road. It will be a problem for future generations. Try to get some sleep. Try to allow yourself to cry. If you do not cry, it will haunt you. The tears must flow -- do not suppress them or deny them.”

And as the angel tells me this, I feel them, the tears in my throat. I choke them back. I have been holding back my tears for years. Why should I release them now? How can I let go? If I were to let go, the sorrow would consume me.

The angel stares at me. I look away.

The angel returns to the other room, closer to the front door. The monsters are grumbling, just outside. It is a long night.

I stay awake, guarding my daughters, waiting for the sun to rise.

In the morning we sneak away, bringing only our necessities. Let the monsters have this place; I want no memories of it.

The angels warn us not to look back, no matter what may happen.

And then the angels disappear and we are alone. Overnight our prosperity has vanished and we have become a small family in exile.

And I wonder, during all the years of prosperity, why was I always so sad?

We are silent as we climb. I have nothing to say to my husband. He has betrayed me. He has betrayed my children. My daughters are confused. They do not understand this exodus. But I cannot speak to them – my sorrow would frighten them. I am dumb with grief.

The path is steep. Where will it lead us?

I can no longer love my husband. I will never again trust him. He offered to sacrifice our daughters. Why did he not offer to sacrifice himself? To him our daughters are possessions; I am his possession. He is little better than the monsters.

We climb. I am tired. I cannot return to Sodom and I cannot stay with my husband.

Thunder. There is thunder below.

I turn and see the city on fire. My whole past is on fire.

There is no past now. There is no future now.

My tears begin to flow. I cannot choke them back.

I am paralyzed by sorrow.

I realize, suddenly, what I am.

I am nothing.

I am nothing but salt.

I am nothing but the remnant of infinite tears.