4 min read

Adam Waded Into the Jordan to Repent Before God

Driven from Eden, Adam stands in the Jordan River for forty days, fasting and praying until God sends the Book of Raziel as a sign of return.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The First Sinner Had No Ritual to Follow
  2. The Jordan Was Cold and He Stayed Anyway
  3. Samael Waited at the River's Edge
  4. The Book Came Down as the Answer

The First Sinner Had No Ritual to Follow

Adam left Eden with everything stripped away: the light that had covered him, the closeness of God's presence, the ease of the garden. He and Eve built a hut on the outside edge of the world they had lost and sat in it for seven days without moving.

When the seven days ended, they were still guilty. They had no tradition to follow, no prophet who had mapped the way back from transgression, no Temple with an altar where guilt could be handed over. Every practice of repentance that would later exist in Israel had not yet been invented. Adam had to invent it with his body.

He walked to the Jordan River and waded in up to his neck.

The Jordan Was Cold and He Stayed Anyway

He fasted for forty days in the water. He did not eat. The river pressed against him and the cold worked into his body and he remained where he was, not because someone had told him this was the correct form but because it was the most extreme act of sincerity he could perform. He had lived in a garden where everything had been given. Now he stood in a river and gave up the water and food that kept him alive, in the direction of the God who had made both.

Eve did the same in the Gihon River, though the text grants her fewer days before she stumbles. The serpent comes to her again and speaks again, and she falters and comes out of the water. Adam has to begin again without her, continuing his vigil in the Jordan.

Samael Waited at the River's Edge

Samael, the accusing angel, watched Adam standing in the cold water and recognized the repentance for what it was. He wanted to stop it.

He did not attack directly. He came in the form of an angel of light and told Adam that God had already forgiven him, that the penance was complete, that there was no need to keep standing. The disguise is precise: he did not come as a monster. He came as a messenger of relief, which is more dangerous when you are cold and hungry and longing for permission to stop.

Adam recognized him. He drove Samael away and returned to the water.

The Book Came Down as the Answer

When the forty days were complete, God responded not with words but with a gift. The angel Raziel, who stands at the bank of the primordial river and receives all heavenly secrets, brought Adam a book. It was inscribed with sacred names and the wisdom of the upper world, a path of return written in divine script.

Adam received the book and wept. He recognized it as an opening, not a restoration. Eden was closed. The flaming sword still turned at the gate. But the book meant that the way of repentance had been answered, that standing in the cold water for forty days had not been silence meeting silence.

He carried the book for the rest of his life. When he died, it passed forward through human history, held by Noah, then by Abraham, and eventually by the sages who knew how to read what it contained.


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From the tradition

Sources

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews, II. Adam, The PunishmentLegends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews (Ginzberg) turns to The Punishment.

The Ginzberg's says retelling in Legends of the Jews, God didn't rush right in after the sin. No, no. "One should not 'strive to see a man in the hour of his disgrace.'" for a second. There's a deep empathy embedded in that idea. God waited until Adam and Eve had covered themselves with fig leaves.

Adam already knew what was coming. He heard the angels announcing, "God betaketh Himself unto those that dwell in Paradise." He even overheard the angels discussing his fate! "What! He still walks about in Paradise? He is not yet dead?"

God's response? He explains that He meant His days, each a thousand years long, not our earthly days. So, Adam would get 930 years, and seventy more to leave to his descendants. A reprieve, of sorts.

When God approached, Adam and Eve hid. Before the sin, this would have been unthinkable. Adam's height, we're told, stretched from heaven to earth! Afterwards? A mere hundred ells. The very voice of God, which once brought comfort, now filled him with fear. "I heard Thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid," Adam said. God replied, "Aforetime thou wert not afraid, and now thou art afraid?"

God, initially, refrained from scolding. Standing at the gate of Paradise, He simply asked, "Where art thou, Adam?" Ginzberg tells us this question was loaded. It highlighted the vast difference between Adam's former glory and his diminished state. It also offered Adam a chance to repent.

But did he? No. Instead, Adam blamed Eve! "O Lord of the world! As long as I was alone, I did not fall into sin, but as soon as this woman came to me, she tempted me." God pointed out that He gave her as a help, and Adam was being ungrateful. He should have taken the lead, being the head and not she.

Eve, in turn, blamed the serpent. Neither confessed, neither prayed for forgiveness. It's a stark picture of taking responsibility, or rather, shirking it. Only when they remained "stiff-necked" did God pronounce their doom.

The serpent, however, received his punishment immediately, without defense. Why? Because "the serpent is a villain, and the wicked are good debaters." Imagine God getting drawn into a theological argument with a snake! No, a series of ten punishments were inflicted: the loss of speech, the loss of limbs, eating dust, enduring painful shedding, and eternal enmity with humankind, amongst other things. It's a brutal list. As it is written, "He who lusts after what is not his due, not only does he not attain his desire, but he also loses what he has!"

Angels, as part of a Sanhedrin, a council of 71 angels, witnessed the serpent's judgment and carried out the sentence, chopping off his hands and feet. His cries, we're told, echoed across the world.

Eve's punishment, also tenfold, affected women's physical, spiritual, and social state. God didn't speak to Eve directly, but used an interpreter. The only woman God ever spoke to directly was Sarah.

Adam's tenfold punishment included the loss of his celestial clothing, earning bread through sorrow, physical toil, wandering children, a body vulnerable to worms, and ultimately, facing judgment.

But it wasn't just Adam, Eve, and the serpent who suffered. The very earth was punished for failing to fully obey God's command to produce trees with edible wood and for not bearing witness against Adam's sin. The earth's tenfold punishment involved dependence on rain, failing harvests, noxious vermin, barren trees, and ultimately, decay.

Even the moon was punished! While everything else wept at Adam and Eve's transgression, the moon laughed. So God obscured her light, causing her to wax and wane instead of shining steadily. This callousness offended God, who pitied Adam and Eve. He even made them clothes from the serpent's skin!

God, according to this telling, was merciful. He would have let them stay if they had repented. But they didn't, and He feared they would ravage the Tree of Life and live forever. As they left, God lamented that Adam couldn't even keep the command for a short time.

Cherubim, the ever-turning sword of flames, guarded the entrance to Paradise. Adam received the Torah, which is also a "tree of life," and permission to live near Paradise. He and Eve wept, begging the angels to soften God's sentence. But God was firm. He had to be.

However, Adam was granted permission to take sweet-scented spices out of Paradise for offerings and prayers. He gathered saffron, nard, calamus, cinnamon, and seeds. Laden with these, they left, having enjoyed Paradise for only a few hours.

The tradition even pinpoints the exact hour of each event on that fateful sixth day of creation, culminating in their expulsion in the twelfth hour of the day, on the first of Tishri, which became Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. God then told Adam that his children, the Israelites, would be judged and absolved on this day, just as he was.

Finally, the text lists the multiple creations brought forth on each of the days of creation, emphasizing the sheer volume of things made on the sixth day, including Adam, Eve, animals, and even demons (who were made without bodies because the Sabbath was approaching!). And in the twilight between the sixth day and the Sabbath, ten more creations emerged, including the rainbow, manna, the writing on the tablets at Sinai, and the grave of Moses.

So, what does it all mean? It's a interplay of sin, punishment, mercy, and the beginning of… well, everything. The story isn't just about Adam and Eve; it's about us. It's about our choices, our responsibility, and the consequences that ripple out, affecting not just ourselves, but the world around us. And it's a powerful reminder that even in the face of judgment, there's always the possibility of mercy, and a chance for renewal.

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Legends of the Jews, II. Adam, Adam's RepentanceLegends of the Jews

The Bible doesn't offer much detail. But the Jewish tradition, rich with stories and interpretations, fills in the gaps, painting a vivid picture of their struggle, their sorrow, and ultimately, their path toward repentance.

The Ginzberg's says masterful retelling in Legends of the Jews, Adam and Eve, banished from Paradise, were utterly lost. They built a simple hut and spent seven days in profound grief, mourning the loss of their perfect existence. Imagine the despair, the regret, the gnawing hunger.

Driven by necessity, they ventured out in search of food, but the world outside Eden was harsh and unforgiving. Adam, remembering the delicacies of the Garden, searched in vain for anything similar. He found nothing. Eve, overwhelmed by guilt, even suggested that Adam kill her, believing that God’s wrath was directed at him because of her. Adam, of course, refused.

Nine long days passed. All they could find was food fit for animals. Can you picture it? The first humans, created in God’s image, reduced to scavenging for scraps.

Finally, Adam proposed a radical solution: repentance. "Let us do penance," he said, "mayhap the Lord God will forgive us and have pity on us, and give us something to sustain our life." But knowing Eve's physical weakness, he devised separate penances for each of them.

He instructed Eve to stand in the Tigris River, the water reaching her neck, for thirty-seven days, maintaining complete silence. "Let no speech issue forth from thy mouth," he told her, "for we are unworthy to supplicate God, our lips are unclean by reason of the forbidden fruit of the tree."

Adam, meanwhile, chose an even more arduous path. He would stand in the Jordan River for forty days, fasting. He waded into the Jordan, the water up to his neck, and cried out: "I adjure thee, O thou water of the Jordan! Afflict thyself with me, and gather unto me all swimming creatures that live in thee… Not they have sinned, only I alone!" Immediately, the creatures of the Jordan gathered around him, and the river itself ceased to flow.

This act of profound contrition, this willingness to suffer for his transgression, did not go unnoticed. But it also caught the attention of a familiar adversary: Satan.

The Legends of the Jews tell us that Satan, fearing that God might forgive Adam and Eve, attempted to sabotage their penance. He appeared to Eve, disguised as an angel, claiming that God had heard their prayers and accepted their repentance. He urged her to leave the river and offered her the sustenance she had enjoyed in Paradise.

Weakened and vulnerable, Eve succumbed to Satan's deception. He led her to Adam, who immediately recognized the trickery. "O Eve, Eve, where now is thy penitence?" he cried. "How couldst thou let our adversary seduce thee again, him who robbed us of our sojourn in Paradise and all spiritual joy?"

Eve, realizing her mistake, turned on Satan, demanding to know why he relentlessly pursued them. With a deep sigh, Satan confessed that his jealousy of Adam, who had been given a higher place in creation, was the reason for his fall and his subsequent desire to destroy Adam.

Hearing this, Adam prayed to God to remove Satan, his adversary. Satan disappeared, and Adam continued his penance in the Jordan. As he stood in the river, Adam noticed the days growing shorter. He feared that the world was being plunged into darkness as punishment for his sin. He spent eight days in prayer and fasting, begging for forgiveness. When the days began to lengthen again after the winter solstice, he rejoiced and established a yearly celebration of both periods – the time of diminishing light and the return of light. Legends of the Jews suggests this is the origin of pagan winter festivals, a fascinating repurposing of a primal human experience.

The tradition continues, telling us that Adam also experienced profound fear when he first witnessed the setting sun. He believed that the world was being consumed by darkness because of his sin. He spent the entire night in tears. But when the sun rose again, he understood it was the natural order and offered a sacrifice to God: a unicorn whose horn was created before its hoofs, on the very spot where the altar in Jerusalem would later stand.

What does this all mean? Beyond being a captivating story, Adam's repentance offers a powerful message about human fallibility, the importance of taking responsibility for our actions, and the enduring possibility of redemption. It reminds us that even after making terrible mistakes, like Adam and Eve, we have the capacity to turn towards God, to seek forgiveness, and to ultimately find our way back to the light.

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Legends of the Jews, II. Adam, Adam Laments and God Sends the Book of RazielLegends of the Jews

Adam wasn't just picking apples and feeling sorry for himself. He was wrestling with the big stuff – the future, his children, and the whole darn world.

Adam poured out his heart to God. Imagine him there, lamenting: "O God, Lord of the world! Thou didst create the whole world unto the honor and glory of the Mighty One..". He acknowledged God's power, his own failings, and the heavy weight of the unknown. He knew he messed up, big time. As he says, according to this ancient account, "From the time I ate of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, wisdom departed from me, and I am a fool that knoweth naught, an ignorant man that understandeth not." He begged for knowledge, for understanding, for a glimpse into what lay ahead for him and his descendants. "Grant me knowledge and understanding, that I may know what shall befall me, and my posterity, and all the generations that come after me.."

Then, on the third day of this intense prayer, something incredible happened.

While sitting by a river flowing out of Paradise (can you even imagine?), the angel Raziel appeared to Adam. And Raziel wasn't empty-handed. He carried a book. The Book of Raziel.

"O Adam, why art thou so fainthearted?" Raziel asked, according to Ginzberg's telling. He explained that Adam's prayers had been heard, and he, Raziel, was tasked with sharing profound wisdom. This wasn't just any book. This was a sacred text, containing the secrets of the future, knowledge of calamities, famines, wars. everything! Think of it as the ultimate cosmic almanac.

Raziel tells Adam that all of his descendants can be wise too, "if they will but read this book in purity, with a devout heart and an humble mind, and obey its precepts, will become like unto thee."

As Raziel read from the book, Adam was overwhelmed. But the angel reassured him, urging him to take the book and learn from it, to share its wisdom with those worthy. And in that moment, as Adam accepted the book, a flame shot up, and Raziel ascended back to heaven. Adam knew then that this book was a gift from God, a source of profound knowledge and holiness.

The text emphasizes the power and potential of the book, stating that "It is the book out of which all things worth knowing can be learnt, and all mysteries, and it teaches also how to call upon the angels and make them appear before men, and answer all their questions."

But here's the catch: not everyone can just pick it up and become a sage. The Zohar, that foundational text of Jewish mysticism, speaks of the importance of purity and devotion in accessing divine wisdom. Only the wise and God-fearing, those who approach it with holiness, can truly unlock its secrets. Such a person, the text assures us, will be protected from evil and find peace in this life and the next.

So, what do we make of this story? Is it a literal account? A metaphor? Perhaps it's both. It's a powerful reminder of our innate desire to understand the world around us, to confront the unknown, and to seek wisdom from a higher source. It also speaks to the importance of intention and purity of heart in our pursuit of knowledge. Maybe, just maybe, the Book of Raziel isn't a physical object, but a symbol of the wisdom available to us all, if we approach it with the right mindset.

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Legends of the Jews 4:32Legends of the Jews

The stories tell us it wasn't just a simple "get out!" It was a complex struggle, a cosmic battle, and a search for redemption.

Samael (the angel of death), often identified as the embodiment of evil, is gloating, perhaps, or still lingering around Adam and Eve. But then, a voice rings out – the voice of the slain Abel himself! According to Legends of the Jews, the voice emanates directly from the hearts of Adam and Eve, declaring to Samael, "Go hence! I have penetrated to the heart of Adam and the heart of Eve, and never again shall I quit their hearts, nor the hearts of their children, or their children's children, unto the end of all generations."

The story doesn't end there. Adam is overcome with grief. He’s heartbroken. He puts on sackcloth and ashes, a sign of mourning, and fasts for days on end. Finally, God appears to him. "My son," God says, "have no fear of Samael. I will give thee a remedy that will help thee against him, for it was at My instance that he went to thee."

Can you imagine Adam's relief? He asks, naturally, "And what is this remedy?"

And God answers, simply: "The Torah."

But wait... the Torah wasn't given yet. So, what does that mean? God then gives him the book of the angel Raziel. This book, filled with divine wisdom and secrets, becomes Adam's lifeline. He studies it day and night.

Now, here’s where things get even more interesting. The angels, seeing Adam's newfound wisdom, become jealous. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, they try to trick him, to cunningly destroy him, by calling him a god and prostrating themselves before him. Adam, of course, refuses. "Do not prostrate yourselves before me, but magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His Name together," he pleads.

But their envy is too strong. They steal the book of Raziel and throw it into the sea. Adam is devastated. He searches everywhere, but it's gone. He fasts again, grief-stricken.

Once more, God appears. "Fear not!" He says. "I will give the book back to thee."

Then, in a beautiful detail, God calls upon Rahab, the Angel of the Sea. Yes, there's an angel in charge of the sea! God orders Rahab to recover the book and return it to Adam. And Rahab, obedient to the divine will, does just that.

So, what does this story tell us? It's more than just a simple narrative. It's about the struggle against evil, the power of divine wisdom (the Torah), and the importance of humility. It suggests that even after the fall, there is a path to redemption, a way to reconnect with the divine. And sometimes, even angels need a little nudge in the right direction. What do you think? What does this story mean to you?

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