After that God commanded the angel Anafiel to punish Metatron with sixty fiery lashes for not rising when he saw Elisha, thus giving Elisha the false impression that there were two heavenly powers. As for Elisha, thereafter he became known as Aher, the Other, for at the instant he saw Metatron seated there, he lost his faith.
The two primary versions of this myth about Aher (Elisha ben Abuyah) becoming an apostate are found in the Talmud in B. Hagigah 15a and in 3 Enoch. Elisha’s shock on seeing Metatron in heaven derives primarily from the fact that he is seated, since he had believed that no sitting was allowed in heaven except for God, seated on His Throne of Glory. Thus Elisha identifies Metatron as a “Lesser Yahweh,” a demiurgic figure. And for the Enoch sect, in particular, Enoch/Metatron does play a remarkably extensive role, for he serves as chief of the angels who carries out all of God’s commands.
The rabbinic explanation for Metatron’s being seated is that he is the heavenly scribe, whose job it is to record the merits of Israel. The version in 3 Enoch elaborates on the godlike role Metatron plays, surrounded by ministering angels. Metatron’s punishment of sixty fiery lashes demonstrates his subservience to God. It seems likely that Elisha’s apostasy led him to become a Gnostic, whose primary belief was that there are two powers in heaven.
This myth is directly modeled after Daniel 7, where Daniel has a vision of the Ancient of Days, one of the names of God. Daniel’s vision itself is directly based on Isaiah’s vision in Isaiah 6:1-8. Here, however, Metatron has taken the place of God in Elisha’s vision. This shows the extreme nature of the Metatron mythology, in which Metatron’s role sometimes seems to eclipse that of God. Here, ironically, this is done by drawing on a biblical model. The talmudic version of this myth was likely intended as a warning against Gnosticism in general and speculations about Enoch/Metatron in particular. This accusation finds its answer in 3 Enoch, dating from around the eighth century. It is fascinating to observe how this talmudic warning myth is incorporated in 3 Enoch into the overall myth of Metatron, and slanted in a way to demonstrate that Elisha ben Abuyah failed to recognize Metatron’s true role as God’s second in command. But at the same time the myth is certainly intended to elevate the primary role of Metatron in the heavenly pantheon to one who is second only to God. See “The Four Who Entered Paradise,” p. 173.
Anafiel, the angel who punishes Metatron, is the same angel who brought Enoch into heaven, where the metamorphosis into Metatron took place. Anafiel YHVH is one of the eight princes of heaven whose names include the Tetragrammaton, suggesting that they are an extension of God. Metatron’s power is over all of the angels except for these eight princes.
Sources:
Tosefta Hagigah 2:4;B. Hagigah 15a; 3 Enoch 16:1-5; Testament of Abraham 11:1-13:7; Schäfer #671-674 from Ms. Oxford 1531.
Studies:
Two Powers in Heaven by Alan Segal.
“Form(s) of God: Some Notes on Metatron and Christ” by Gedaliahu G. Stroumsa.
Four Powers in Heaven: The Interpretation of Daniel 7 in the Testament of Abraham by Phillip B. Munoa, III.
“3 Enoch and the Talmud” by P. S. Alexander.
The Faces of the Chariot by David J. Halperin.
210. RABBI ISHMAEL’S ASCENT
One of the Roman emperors called in ten of the finest sages and demanded to study the Torah with them. They began at the beginning of Genesis, and all went well until they reached the passage in Exodus that reads, He who kidnaps a man, whether he has sold him or is still holding him, shall be put to death (Exod. 21: 16). When he read this, the Emperor remembered how Joseph’s brothers had sold him into slavery. Yet they had not been punished by death, as the law required.
The Emperor asked the sages if this ruling applied to Joseph’s brothers, and they agreed that it did. Then he demanded that the law be fulfilled and the executions carried out. The sages tried to explain that Joseph’s brothers had died long ago. The Emperor told them that he knew that the brothers could no longer be punished. But in that case, the punishment must be carried out on those who represented Joseph’s brothers in that age. And he pointed to each of the ten sages and told them that surely none represented the leaders of the tribes of Israel more than they did.
Then the Emperor signed a decree commanding that the ten sages be put to death, among them Rabbi Akiba, Rabbi Ishmael, Rabbi Hananiah ben Teradion, and seven other of the greatest sages who ever lived.
All of the sages were placed in a cell together, so that none might escape before the execution was carried out. There in that cell they turned to Rabbi Ishmael and begged him to use the power of the Name to overturn the Emperor’s decree, for they knew that he alone could do it. Rabbi Ishmael told them that he could indeed overturn the decree, but first they must find out if it was solely that of the Emperor, or if in condemning them the Emperor was carrying out a decree of the Holy One, blessed be He.
Then Rabbi Ishmael put on his tallit and tefillin and chanted a long prayer. And as he prayed, his soul ascended to the sixth heaven, where the angel Gabriel greeted him and asked to know why he had come there. Rabbi Ishmael told him of the Emperor’s decree, and that he had ascended to learn if it were a Divine decree or not.
Then Gabriel swore that he had heard the decree pronounced from behind the Pargod, the heavenly curtain. But he told Rabbi Ishmael not to mourn, for the ten sages would shortly be reunited in Paradise. Meanwhile their martyrdom would free the world from the evil that had entered it when Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery. And when that terrible sin had been lifted from the world, one of the chains that held back the Messiah would be broken, and the days of the Messiah would be that much closer. Rabbi Ishmael was greatly comforted to learn this and accepted his fate at once. Then he and the angel Gabriel took their leave of each other, and Rabbi Ishmael returned to this world.
When he opened his eyes, Rabbi Ishmael saw that all of the other sages had gathered around him, waiting for his soul to return from on high. He told them at once all he had learned from the lips of the angel Gabriel. And when the other sages learned that they had been chosen to lift the sin of Joseph’s brothers from the world, and to break one of the chains of the Messiah, they embraced their destiny. And one by one they went bravely to their deaths.
While most texts describing heavenly journeys make the ascent the focus of the tale, “Rabbi Ishmael’s Ascent” is a portion of a longer midrashic narrative known as “The Legend of the Ten Martyrs.” Here ten of the most famous Jewish martyrs, including Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Ishmael, are linked as victims of the same evil decree, even though historically they did not all live at the same time. Rabbi Ishmael then undertakes an ascent into Paradise to discover if this is actually a heavenly decree or not. If not, he has it within his power to overthrow the Emperor’s decree by drawing on the power of God’s Name. So far the tale reads like a fairy tale. If it had followed this pattern, Rabbi Ishmael would have learned that it was not a heavenly decree, and on his return he would have defeated the Emperor, saving himself and his fellow sages. But this account has fused the Hekhalot-type tale of ascent with the accounts of the deaths of these great sages culled from rabbinic sources, primarily from the Talmud. Thus Rabbi Ishmael learns that heaven has approved the decree against the sages to erase the sin of Joseph’s brothers in selling Joseph. Note that this explanation gives the deaths of the sages cosmic meaning, in righting what was perceived as an epic wrong in the Torah, in which Joseph’s brothers are never punished for selling him into slavery. For it is clearly stated in the Torah that the punishment for such a sin is death: He who kidnaps a man, whether he has sold him or is still holding him, shall be put to death (Exod. 21:16). In “The Legend of the Ten Martyrs,” it is the emperor who has commanded the sages to teach him the Bible, and it is the emperor who raises the question of whether or not Joseph’s brothers were punished. But this was clearly a question on the minds of the rabbis, who scrutinized the events prior to the giving of the Torah for evidence that the laws were fulfilled
. And even though the Emperor’s linking of the sins of Joseph’s brothers with the ten sages seems arbitrary and unreasonable, Hayim Vital states in Etz Hayim that the souls of the ten martyrs were born from ten drops of semen that came forth from Joseph, suggesting that for the kabbalists, at least, there was some justification to the Emperor’s charge.
Also, the rabbis sought precedents for evil behavior in the biblical text. For example, they wanted to know how Cain died, which is not reported. In fact, there are four different versions of how Cain died that are found in the aggadic texts. See “The Death of Cain,” p. 451. In “Rabbi Ishmael’s Ascent” it is therefore possible to see the imprint of four basic kinds of Jewish narratives combined into one: 1) the tale of ascent; 2) the linking tale, which links key figures from various generations into a chain midrash; 3) the tale that responds to a specific point of the Law, in this case the punishment required for the sin of Joseph’s brothers; and 4) the martyrological tale.
In addition, this tale can be seen to have major theological ramifications. It shifts the blame for the Roman oppression to God, much in the same way that the myth of the Ari shifts the blame for the Fall from Adam and Eve to God. This is a natural consequence of monotheism: if there is only one God, then everything that takes place must have been brought into being by that God, including evil acts. One strange notion found in this important tale is that it would be possible, indeed expected by God, that anyone other than Joseph’s brothers be punished for their sin. Yet this is what the tale implies. This is an essentially kabbalistic premise. The sin of Joseph’s brothers has cosmic implications; it created a taint in existence, much in the way that the person of Cain is transformed into a principle of evil in the kabbalah. Therefore the deaths of the ten martyrs have a meaning that transcends their earthly loss: a major taint has been removed from the world. From this perspective the deaths represent a monumental sacrifice, which has the effect of serving as a cosmic act of tikkun, of repair and restoration. (Note that this sacrifice has Christian overtones.)
The accounts of the deaths of the rabbis, drawn from diverse time periods and sources, are very moving. For example, Rabbi Haninah ben Teradion was burned along with the Torah: “They took him, wrapped him in the scroll of the Torah, placed bundles of branches around him and set him on fire. . . . His disciples called out, ‘Rabbi, what do You see?’ He answered: ‘The parchments are being burnt but the letters are soaring on high’” (B. A.Z. 18a). The other rabbis who were martyred, in addition to Rabbi Ishmael, Rabbi Akiba, and Rabbi Haninah ben Teradion, include Rabbi Simeon ben Gamaliel, Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava, Rabbi Yehudah ben Dema, Rabbi Hutzpit, Rabbi Haninah ben Hakhinai, Rabbi Yeshvav the scribe, and Rabbi Eleazar ben Shammua. Midrash Eleh Ezkerah includes an interesting myth about Rabbi Ishmael that identifies the angel Gabriel as his true father. This myth makes the meeting of Rabbi Ishmael and Gabriel in Paradise much more meaningful. See “How Rabbi Ishmael Was Conceived,” p. 201.
Sources:
Hekhalot Rabbati; Midrash Eleh Ezkerah in Beit ba-Midrash, 2: 64-72; Midrash Rabbenu Bahya on Genesis 44:12; Etz Hayim, Sha’ar ha-Gilgulim, Hakdamah 22; One version of this legend is the liturgical poem Eleh Ezkerah, included in the prayer book for Yom Kippur, and another poem, Artzei ha-Levanon Adirei ha-Tovah, is recited on the Ninth of Av.
Studies:
Rabbinic Fantasies, edited by David Stern and Mark Mirsky.
211. THE ENTRANCE OF THE SIXTH HEAVENLY PALACE
Those who ascend on high must beware at the entrance of the sixth hekhal, the sixth heavenly palace. It appears as if it were engulfed by a sea of waves, but anyone who cries out, “Water, water!” is in grave danger. For there is not even a drop of water, only the radiance of pure marble stones, more awe-inspiring than water. Furthermore, the doorkeepers of the sixth palace destroy all those who arrive there without permission.
Those warlike doorkeepers, the angels Dumiel and Kaspiel, are taller than mountains, and sharper than peaks. Their bows are strung and stand before them; their swords are sharpened and in their hands. Lightning issues forth from their eyes, and spider webs of fire from their nostrils, and torches of fiery coals from their mouths. And they are equipped with helmets and coats of mail, and javelins and spears are hung upon their muscles. These gatekeepers would destroy all those who arrive there without permission.
It is said of Ben Azzai that he reached the entrance of the sixth heavenly palace and saw the radiance of the light of the pure marble stones. He called out, “Water, water,” and in a wink the doorkeeper who guards that gate cut off his head. This became a sign for all generations, not to err at the entrance of the sixth hekhal.
Only those who are protected by the angel Lumiel by reason of righteousness will be able to pass beyond the doorkeeper of the sixth palace. For the angel bears a gift for those who deserve it. It is not a gift of silver and not a gift of gold, but it grants the one who “descends” to the Merkavah the privilege that he should not be questioned, not in the first palace and not in the second, not in the third palace and not in the fourth, and not in the fifth palace or the sixth, and not in the seventh. But Lumiel shows the seal to the proper angels, and the one who ascends is able to go on to the next gate.
Of all the dangers of trying to ascend to Paradise (paradoxically known as “descending to the Merkavah”), the greatest lurks at the entrance of the sixth gate. This gate is guarded by the dangerous angels Dumiel (Divine silence) and Kaspiel (Divine wrath). In Hekhalot Rabbati the death of Ben Azzai recorded in B. Hagigah 14b is recounted as having taken place at the sixth gate, when the doorkeeper cut off his head. (Other texts offer different explanations, most of them less violent.) The secret to passing beyond the gate of the sixth heaven and thereby being able to enter the seventh heaven, Aravot, is to be held by the angel Lumiel, who bears a seal that makes it possible to pass beyond all of the doorkeepers without being questioned. This seal is only available to the very righteous. This would suggest that of the four sages who entered Paradise, as recounted in B. Hagigah 14b, only Rabbi Akiba, who entered and departed in peace, was righteous enough to deserve this seal. Hekhalot Rabbati asks: “What is it like to know the secret of the Merkavah? It is like having a ladder in one’s house and being able to go up and down at will.” Gershom Scholem has found an echo of the these heavenly gatekeepers in Kafka’s famous parable, “Before the Law.” See this story on p. 179. See “The Four Who Entered Paradise,” p. 173.
Sources:
B. Hagigah 14b; Hekhalot Zutarti #408-410; Hekhalot Rabbati 15, 17, 19.
Studies:
“Observations on Hekhalot Rabbati” by Morton Smith.
The Ancient Jewish Mysticism by Joseph Dan.
Heavenly Journeys: A Study of the Motif in Hellenistic Jewish Literature by Mary Dean-Otting.
Jewish Gnosticism, Merkabah Mysticism and Talmudic Tradition by Gershom Scholem.
“Heavenly Ascent and the Relationship of the Apocalypses and the Hekhalot Literature” by Martha Himmelfarb.
Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses by Martha Himmelfarb.
212. BEFORE THE LAW
Before the Law stands a man guarding the door. To this doorkeeper comes a man from the country who asks to be admitted to the Law. But the doorkeeper says that he cannot grant him entry. The man thinks about it and asks if, in that case, he will be permitted to enter later. “Possibly,” says the doorkeeper, “but not now.”
As the gateway to the Law is, as always, open, and the doorkeeper steps aside, the man stoops to look within. When the doorkeeper sees this, he laughs and says, “If it tempts you that much, just try to get in. But be aware that I am mighty. And I am only the lowliest doorkeeper. From hall to hall there are doorkeepers, each mightier than the one before. Even I can no longer bear the sight of the third of these.”
The man from the country has not expected such difficulties. Surely, he thinks, the Law ought to be accessible to everybody, always, but now as he looks more carefully at the doorkeeper, with hi
s big pointed nose and long, thin, black Tatar beard, he decides he’d rather wait for permission to enter. The doorkeeper gives him a stool and has him sit down beside the door. There he sits for days and for years. He often tries to be admitted, and wearies the doorkeeper with his pleas. The doorkeeper frequently questions him, asks him about where he comes from and many other things, but they are distant inquiries, the sort great men make, and in the end he always says that he cannot let him in yet. The man, who has equipped himself for his journey with many things, employs everything, however valuable, to bribe the doorkeeper. He takes it all, saying however, “I accept this only so you won’t think you’ve failed to do anything.”
All these long years the man watches the doorkeeper unceasingly. He forgets the other doorkeepers, and this first one seems to be the only obstacle between him and the Law. He curses his miserable luck, at first recklessly and loudly; later, as he grows old, he only grumbles to himself. He becomes childish, and since his years of scrutiny of the doorkeeper have enabled him to recognize even the fleas in his fur collar, he asks even the fleas to help change the doorkeeper’s mind. Finally his eyes grow feeble, and he doesn’t know if it’s really getting darker around him or if his eyes are only tricking him. But in the darkness he now observes an inextinguishable radiance streaming out of the door of the Law.
Tree of Souls Page 47