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Adam Was Made Where the Temple Would Stand and Led Into Eden

Angels brought Adam his meat and his wine. Animals ate out of his hand and understood every word he said. All of it ran backward in a single afternoon.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The King's Garden Was Not a Farm
  2. Angels Brought Him Meat and Wine
  3. One Command Was About a Tree
  4. The Ground He Came From Stayed Holy

God did not scoop up the dust for Adam from just anywhere.

Adam Was Made Where the Temple Would Stand and Led Into Eden Click for full size

He took it from one specific patch of ground, the clean place, the spot where an altar would stand once there were people to build one and a city to build it in. No walls there yet. No steps, no smoke, no lines of pilgrims coming up the road with animals. Only ground, and a shape being made out of it.

Then He picked the man up off that spot and carried him somewhere else. The garden was the palace, and Adam went into it the way a servant goes into a king's house, still carrying the dust of the courtyard on him.

The King's Garden Was Not a Farm

He was put there to work it and to keep it, and neither word meant what it sounds like.

There was no plowing. Nobody pulled stones out of that soil or fought weeds or waited on rain, because every tree in the place came up on its own and fruited on its own. The work was study and prayer and the keeping of what he had been told, and what he had been told was short. Do not worship what is not God. Do not curse Him. Do not kill. Do not take what is not yours. Do not corrupt a household. Set up courts, and judge. One more came with a date on it: eat only the green things of the field.

So the first job in the world was guard duty, and the thing being guarded was a line.

Angels Brought Him Meat and Wine

He was not allowed to kill an animal for his dinner, which turned out not to limit his dinner at all.

The angels waited on him. They carried in the meat and poured the wine and stood there while he ate, serving a man made of dirt as though he were the household they had been assigned to. The animals came to him the same way. Every one of them took its food out of his hand or out of Eve's, and they knew human speech when they heard it, and they looked at the two of them and were afraid the way you are afraid of something holy rather than something large. A lion put its head down into Eve's palm to eat.

That was the arrangement. The angels served, the animals listened, and the man kept the line.

One Command Was About a Tree

The line ran through the middle of the garden and it had a tree standing on it.

He ate. And everything that had been running one way turned and ran the other way in an afternoon. The angels stopped bringing anything. The animals stopped understanding a word he said, and the fear in them curdled into the thing it has been ever since, which is not reverence and never was again. He went out of the palace with a sword turning behind him, and the ground he had to work now fought him for every seed.

He had been made a guard before there was anything to guard against, and he had been standing at the only post that mattered.

The Ground He Came From Stayed Holy

The garden did not disappear off the map when he did.

Generations later, after the flood, Noah divided the earth among his sons by lot, and the portion that came up for Shem held the three holiest places on it: the Garden of Eden, Mount Sinai, and Mount Zion, made facing one another. Noah heard which lot it was and rejoiced out loud, remembering what he had once said with his own mouth. Blessed be the Lord, God of Shem.

And in the deep vision of that garden, the trees run eighty myriads to a corner, and sixty myriads of angels sing in each corner, and the Tree of Life stands in the middle and shades the whole of it. Seven clouds of glory hang over the tree and the wind carries its smell out to the ends of the earth. Underneath it the scholars sit and take the Torah apart, two canopies over each one, a canopy of stars and a canopy of sun and moon, with a curtain of cloud drawn between them. God sits down in the middle of them and teaches.

Adam was carried out of the place of the altar and into the garden, and then out of the garden entirely. His children have been walking back up the hill toward that first patch of ground ever since.


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Sources

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 12:1Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, trans. Rabbi Gerald Friedlander, London (1916) · CC-BY

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer turns to Where Was the Garden of Eden According to the Sages.

That's where Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating and somewhat enigmatic text of Jewish tradition, offers a compelling perspective. It paints a picture of Adam not just as the first human, but as someone intimately connected to the most sacred space on Earth.

Quite boldly, that the Holy One, blessed be He, created Adam in a place of absolute purity, specifically "in the place of the Temple." Before the Temple existed, before Jerusalem was even a city, the seed of its holiness was already present in the very spot where Adam was formed.

It gets even more interesting. God doesn't just create Adam there, but then brings him into "His palace," which, according to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, is the Garden of Eden. The verse from (Genesis 2:15), "And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it," is key here. Where did God "take him" from? From the Temple Mount, the text insists.

Now, you might be thinking: "Dress it and keep it"? Was Adam supposed to be a gardener? Did he have to till the soil and pull weeds? The text anticipates this question. "Perhaps thou wilt say: To plough (the fields) and cast out the stones from the ground." But, as the text reminds us, all the trees grew of their own accord in Eden. So, what does "dress it and keep it" really mean?

The implication is that Adam's role was far more profound than simple gardening. He was placed in a sacred space, connected to the divine presence, and tasked with preserving its holiness. He was, in a sense, the first priest, tending to God's sanctuary.

Adam, not as a simple man in a garden, but as a guardian of the divine presence, connected to the very place where humanity would later strive to reconnect with God.

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Legends of the Jews 2:53Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

The familiar picture has it as a place of endless leisure, but the Jewish tradition paints a more nuanced picture. It wasn't just about relaxation; it was about responsibility, connection, and a very specific kind of spiritual work.

The familiar verse from Genesis (2:15) tells us that God placed Adam in the Garden "to till it and to tend it." Now, what does that really mean? According to some interpretations, it wasn't about hard labor in the way we might imagine it today. Instead, "to till it and to tend it" meant something far more profound: to study the Torah and fulfill God's commandments. Adam's primary task wasn't agricultural, but spiritual. He was in charge of upholding the moral order of the world. And what did that entail, specifically? Well, the tradition outlines seven commandments, often called the Noahide Laws, that apply to all of humanity. These are the basic rules for a functioning, ethical society: avoid idolatry, don't blaspheme, refrain from murder, incest, theft, and robbery, and establish a system of justice. As Ginzberg retells in Legends of the Jews, these were the principles that Adam was tasked with upholding, the spiritual “gardening” of Eden, so to speak.

There was also one more commandment, a temporary one: Adam was to eat only green plants. The prohibition against eating meat was lifted later, in Noah's time, after the Flood. But even then, Adam wasn't entirely deprived of the finer things!

Here's where it gets really interesting. Even though Adam wasn't allowed to slaughter animals, he still enjoyed meat and wine! How? The angels themselves brought it to him, serving him like personal attendants.

And it wasn't just the angels who catered to Adam's needs. The animal kingdom was completely different then. Animals were entirely under his dominion, and they received their food directly from his and Eve's hands. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, the relationship between humans and animals was one of complete harmony and respect. They even understood human language! They recognized and revered the image of God within Adam and Eve. They feared the first couple, not in a terrifying way, but with a deep sense of awe and respect.

This, of course, changed dramatically after the Fall. The harmony was broken, the language barrier arose, and the animals' fear turned into something…else. But for a time, in that perfect garden, there was complete unity and understanding.

So, what does this tell us? Maybe the story of Adam in Eden isn’t just about a lost paradise, but about a lost potential. A reminder of a time when humanity was deeply connected to the divine, to the angels, and to the natural world.

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Book of Jubilees 8:30Book of Jubilees

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria Community Translation · CC-BY

Book of Jubilees turns to Shem's Sacred Inheritance Includes the Garden of Eden.

The Book of Jubilees, in chapter 8, describes the division of the world among Noah's sons after the flood. This wasn't just a geographical exercise; it was a divinely ordained allocation, a sacred trust. And what fell to Shem, the ancestor of the Israelites? A portion to be held "forever unto his generations for evermore." A pretty big deal. Noah, overjoyed by this outcome, recalled his own prophetic words: "Blessed be the Lord God of Shem, And may the Lord dwell in the dwelling of Shem." This wasn't just a blessing; it was a recognition of a special relationship between God and Shem's descendants. But it gets even more intriguing.

Because the text then goes on to pinpoint specific locations… locations considered the most holy of holies. According to Jubilees, Noah knew that three places held unique significance: the Garden of Eden, Mount Sinai, and Mount Zion. Gan Eden, the Garden of Eden – the very place where humanity first walked with God. Then, Har Sinai, Mount Sinai – where the Torah was given, and the covenant between God and Israel was forged. And finally, Har Tzion, Mount Zion – the heart of Jerusalem, the site of the Temple, the earthly dwelling place of the Divine Presence.

The text emphasizes that these three holy places "were created as holy places facing each other." What does that mean, “facing each other?" Some interpret this spatially – literally, geographically. But perhaps it speaks more to a spiritual alignment, a connection of purpose. Eden representing the original, perfect relationship with God; Sinai representing the renewed covenant; and Zion representing the ongoing, present connection.

What's so powerful here is the linking of these three sites – Eden, Sinai, and Zion. It creates a kind of spiritual map, a constellation of holiness. It suggests a continuity, a through-line connecting the beginning of humanity's relationship with God to its ongoing development and expression.

The passage also alludes to eretz yisrael, the Land of Israel, being at the “centre of the navel of the earth.” This imagery, also found in other Jewish texts, highlights the centrality and importance of the land in the divine plan.

These weren't just random locations. They were, and are, points of connection, focal points where the earthly and the divine intersect. And according to the Book of Jubilees, they are all intimately connected to the legacy of Shem and his descendants. How can we connect to these places, even if we can't physically be there?

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Legends of the Jews 1:39Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Jewish tradition is rich with imagery, and when it comes to describing the afterlife, it doesn't hold back.

You’re in Paradise, and in every single corner of it, there are eighty myriads – that's eight hundred thousand! – trees. And get this: even the least impressive of these trees is better than any spice tree we could imagine. Sixty myriads of angels fill every corner, their voices blending in a chorus of unimaginable sweetness.

At the heart of it all stands the Tree of Life, its branches shading all of Paradise. And the smells? Just as varied. According to Legends of the Jews, seven clouds of glory hover above it, and winds from every direction carry its fragrance to the far corners of the earth. Underneath this incredible tree, scholars gather, immersed in the study of Torah.

The honor they receive! Above each scholar, two canopies unfurl: one woven from stars, the other from the sun and moon. And a curtain of clouds of glory separates the two.

But wait, there's more! Beyond Paradise lies Eden. Eden isn't just a place; it’s a series of three hundred and ten worlds, seven compartments in all, each reserved for a specific kind of righteous soul.

Who gets a spot in these ultra-exclusive realms? Well, in the first compartment are “the martyr victims of the government,” people like Rabbi Akiba and his students, who gave their lives for their faith. The second is for those who tragically drowned. The third is reserved for Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai, a pivotal figure in Jewish history, and his disciples.

Then there are those who were "carried off in the cloud of glory" – talk about an exit! – in the fourth compartment. The fifth is especially fascinating: it's for those who repented, the baalei teshuvah (repentance). Jewish tradition teaches that these penitents can even attain a higher spiritual level than those who were perfectly righteous from birth! The sixth compartment is for youths who never tasted sin. Finally, the seventh is for the poor who dedicated themselves to studying Bible and Mishnah, and lived lives of dignity.

And where is God in all of this? According to this vision, God sits right in the midst of them all, teaching Torah.

This incredible image, pieced together from various sources like Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, paints a vivid picture. It's not just about rewards and punishments. It’s about continued learning, growth, and connection with the Divine. This isn't just about resting on your laurels for eternity; it’s about continuing the journey. What kind of compartment would we be in? And more importantly, what can we do now to make that compartment even better?

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