Lot's lot

Lot cast his lot among the cityfolk
less trusting in mishpachah than steel gates.
Reprising hospitality as joke
he scarce escaped his neighbors' fiery fate.
Though never doubting Justice must be done,
his uncle interceded for his skin.
Defense he dared not offer his own son,
seemed requisite for his dead brother's kin.
No such destruction's wholly one man's fault;
He had no veto on how things got done.
But now he's widowed by a post of salt,
His daughters felt obliged to get him sons.
Moshiach's ancestor roots in this text--
strange consequence to drunk illicit sex.