here’s the link to the Stories Seldom Told Script online at
IRID (written by Shira Hadditt)
(Based on Genesis Chapter 19)
No one knows my name. The name I was given at birth. The name my parents spoke when they called me to dinner; the name my brothers and sisters sang when they called me to play. I spent half my short life knowing who I was. Then I got married and somehow, I ceased to exist. I ceased to exist for myself, for my husband, and sometimes I am sure, I ceased to exist for my daughters. Those sweet girls, I’m sure they secretly worried that would grow up only to lose themselves in marriage as I had done. Yet we never spoke about. it One didn’t talk about such things; we were expected somehow to learn to live with our sense of nothingness. For all eternity, I have been identified by my husband’s name and none other.
Lot’s wife. No more. No less. There is no me.
I raised Tana and Tiamat, my daughters, as best I could despite the fact that Lot continually blamed them and blamed me that they were not boys, when of course we all know it was his seed which made them girls, not me. I was only the repository. But of course, we didn’t talk about that either. They would often come to me, my gentle daughters, asking why Lot was so brusque and sharp with them. I would smile meekly and say, “that’s just your father’s way, he loves you very much.” I wasn’t about to believe this and I’m sure they weren’t either.
I only wish I could believe that my husband, the father of my daughters, really cared for them. Virtuous Lot is that self-same man who had the gall to tell an unruly mob to do what they would to our lovely girls. “Do what you will”, I heard him say, not caring a whit if his daughters were raped or brutalized as long as G-d’s angels were left alone. Doesn’t Lot have enough faith in G-d’s ability to protect the Angels that he had to offer up the bodies of his daughters, his flesh and blood, as bounty?
That’s why I turned back. To see if my girls were there, to see if they were following Lot and me from the besieged city. I saw their bright faces, was relieved to see their young bodies unharmed, their eyes questioning. “Where are we going? and why?”
“Mother, Mother, wait for us.” They called to me. “Here am I, Darlings, waiting for you”. I turned around to reassure them. That’s when it happened. I don’t believe a cruel G-d punished me, but a kind and loving G-d gave me final respite.
When I turned back, I had dissolved. I became somebody for all ages. I became a pillar of salt. Some say that I became in death that pillar of strength, which is expected of all women. Others say I became the salt of the earth. For generations I have been known only as Lot’s wife. My name is Irid.