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David Entered the Fourth Heaven as an Army Fought His Enemies

The angel clapped a hand over the mystic's eyes. Seven lightnings struck as one. David was coming, and the fourth heaven could not hold still.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Close Your Eyes Before He Comes
  2. The Choir Sang David's Own Psalm
  3. The Crown That Outshone Every King
  4. Heaven Sent Warriors When He Called
  5. The Enemies Turned Their Backs

The angel pulled the mystic against his side and covered the man's eyes with his palm.

David Entered the Fourth Heaven as an Army Fought His Enemies Click for full size

"Close your eyes, son," he said, "lest you be shaken by those who go forth to meet David."

Seven lightnings struck as one. The air went white. The mystic felt the heat through his lids and did not look.

Close Your Eyes Before He Comes

They were already high, walking the palaces where snow is stored in rooms and hail waits in rooms beside it. The warning was not courtesy. It was the way a smith tells a boy to turn his face before the metal is poured.

David was not a monster at the threshold. He was the singer of Israel, the fugitive who hid in caves, the king who knew victory, sin, grief, and prayer. The fourth heaven did not receive him as mild. It became a storm of recognition.

The mystic's knees went loose. The angel's arm tightened. Footsteps were already coming, too many for one man, too bright for a court of flesh.

The Choir Sang David's Own Psalm

Ophanim turned on their wheels. Seraphim burned in place. The holy chayot, the living creatures, lifted their faces. Treasuries of snow opened. Treasuries of hail opened. Clouds of glory, planets, stars, ministering angels, and fiery spirits from the fourth heaven cried out together.

They did not invent a new song. They reached for David's own words. "The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament declares his handiwork." (Psalm 19:2)

The angels did not welcome David by praising David. They welcomed him by singing the psalm through which David had taught creation how to praise God. The song he wrote for the world came back at him from the world's highest inhabitants, at full volume, in one voice.

Then a roar rose from Gozen, a threshold in the heights. "The Lord shall reign forever and ever!" (Exodus 15:18)

The Crown That Outshone Every King

David came first among the kings of Israel and Judah. They entered in a line, each wearing a crown. David's crown was brighter than every other crown. His face shone beyond any face in that procession. The light of it ran from one end of the world to the other.

The brightness was not a prize for a clean record. Bathsheba's name still clung to him. The census still sat on the ledgers of the dead, seventy thousand. The wars still stood between him and the Temple he was not allowed to build. He arrived anyway, carrying the songs he had written in caves, in guilt, in terror, and in love.

The fourth heaven recognized the songs before it named the man. The mystic, eyes shut, heard metal and voices and a light that pressed against his lids like a hand.

Heaven Sent Warriors When He Called

On earth, long before that ascent, David had already learned that a psalm could move more than a mouth. When enemies closed on him, he wrote, and heaven answered the writing. "He sends from heaven and saves me." (Psalm 57:4)

An angel had once turned Saul aside and given David room to breathe. David took that rescue as a pattern, not an accident. When he asked that the angel of the Lord pursue those who pursued him, he was not decorating a verse. He was calling a warrior by name. When he asked that destruction come on an enemy unawares, something in the heights took the request and went.

The man who fought Goliath with a stone and a sling fought later enemies with music as well. The stone could reach a forehead. The music could reach a court David could not see.

The Enemies Turned Their Backs

The enemies did retreat. Some turned to shame, back into the disgrace they had worn before they hunted him. Some turned their backs, the way a man turns when an angel has stepped between him and his prey. Some would wait for garments prepared for them in a later world, payment stitched to the deeds they had done.

Nations would someday plead before their own gods and find those gods silent. They would call on the Lord too late, and the heavens that had once moved for David's psalms would not answer a cry that came only after every other refuge had failed.

David stood in the fourth heaven with that history already in his mouth. The choir was still singing his psalm. The mystic kept his eyes shut against the seven lightnings. A king was passing. An army was passing with him, not of spears only, of voices that had once been prayers and had become weapons.

The palm stayed over the mystic's eyes until David had gone by.

DavidAngelsHeavenPsalmsRedemptionSheolGehennaMidrash Tehillim
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From the tradition

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2 sources

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.

Heikhalot Rabbati 7:1Heikhalot Rabbati

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria-hosted English translation · CC-BY

That feeling is at the heart of the Heikhalot (the heavenly palaces) literature, mystical Jewish texts that describe ascents to the heavenly realms. And there's a passage in Heikhalot Rabbati that just… well, it takes my breath away every time.

Someone is taken, lifted, and held close. A voice asks, "What do you see?" And the answer? "I see seven lightnings which strike as one."

That's just the beginning.

The voice, presumably a divine guide, warns, "Close your eyes, son, lest you be shaken by those who go forth to meet David."

The sense of something monumental about to unfold?

Suddenly, the whole cosmos erupts. Ophanim, those whirling wheel-like angels; seraphim, the fiery ones; the holy chayot, the living creatures of Ezekiel's vision – all of them, along with treasuries of snow and hail (talk about powerful imagery!), clouds of glory, planets, stars, ministering angels, and fiery spirits from the fourth heaven… they all cry out in a unified, tumultuous voice.

What are they saying? What's causing this cosmic chorus?

They're singing a psalm, a song of praise: "For the chief musician, a psalm of David. The heavens are telling the glory of God!" (Psalm 19:2).

And then, the crescendo. A sound, a great uproar, echoes from Gozen – a place name with mystical significance, possibly a gateway or threshold within the heavens. The cry: "The Lord shall reign forever and ever!" (Exodus 15:18).

And then – David.

David, the King of Israel, appears. Not alone, but leading a procession of all the kings of the House of David. Each wears a crown. But David's crown… ah, David's crown is different. It's more brilliant, its splendor unmatched, radiating light from one end of the world to the other.

What does it all mean? What are we to make of this vision?

The Heikhalot texts are notoriously cryptic, less about providing easy answers and more about sparking a spiritual journey within the reader. But we can glean some understanding. This vision isn't just about David as a historical figure. It's about David as a symbol – a symbol of kingship, of divine favor, and ultimately, of the coming messianic age. The Zohar, the central text of Kabbalah, often connects David to the sefirah (a divine emanation) of Malkhut (Sovereignty), kingship, the lowest of the emanations, the one closest to our physical world.

The brilliance of his crown, extending to the ends of the earth, suggests the universal reach of this future redemption. According to Ginzberg’s retelling in Legends of the Jews, David is often depicted as a pivotal figure in the messianic drama, a forerunner and archetype of the messianic king.

And the uproar, the cosmic praise? It's a recognition of the divine potential inherent in humanity, realized most fully in figures like David, and waiting to be realized in the world to come.

As we find in Midrash Rabbah, the messianic era is often described as a time when the divine presence, the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence), will be fully revealed. Perhaps this vision of David and his glorious crown is a glimpse of that very revelation.

So, the next time you feel that sense of something immense just beyond your grasp, remember David's crown. Remember the light that reaches from one end of the world to the other. Remember the promise of a future where the heavens themselves sing of God's glory. And maybe, just maybe, you'll catch a glimpse of that light yourself.

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Midrash Tehillim 9:5Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

It’s in his words, preserved in the Book of Psalms, that readers often find solace and, perhaps surprisingly, a roadmap through those very times.Specifically, My enemies will retreat." (Psalm 9:3). What does it really mean for our enemies to retreat?

The Midrash offers a few intriguing perspectives. It begins by emphasizing that the joy and rejoicing isn't just in God, but also in His Torah and His salvation. It's a three-fold cord of faith, law, and redemption. Then, it explores the idea of our enemies retreating.

Rabbi Yehudah suggests that they retreat "to their shame," returning to a state of disgrace they knew before. Ouch. Rabbi Pinchas offers a slightly different take, suggesting that they turn "to their backs," referencing the verse in (1 (Samuel 23:2)7) where an angel delivers Saul from his enemies. It's as if David is saying, like in (Psalms 57:4), "He sends from heaven and saves me." In other words, their defeat is divinely orchestrated.

The interpretations don’t stop there.

Rabbi Huna adds another layer, saying that the enemies will return to the "garments that are prepared for them in the future." What on earth does that mean? Essentially, they’ll face the consequences of their actions in the world to come. Their ultimate fate is sealed by their deeds.

This idea connects to a broader theme of divine justice. Samuel (likely the prophet Samuel) explains that in the future, when the nations come to plead before their own gods, those gods will be powerless to help. As it says in (Isaiah 45:20), "They shall be saved, and there shall be no savior for them." They'll be left stranded, realizing the futility of their idols.

And then, what happens?

According to the Midrash, they will turn to the Holy One, blessed be He! But (and it’s a big but), (Jeremiah 2:27) tells us, "They will call upon the Lord, but he will not answer them." It's a stark warning about the importance of turning to God before crisis strikes, not just as a last resort when all other options have failed.

What's so powerful about this Midrash is how it takes a seemingly simple verse about enemies retreating and unpacks layers of meaning related to divine justice, the importance of faith, and the consequences of our choices. It's not just about physical enemies, but also about the internal battles we face, the temptations that lead us astray.

Midrash Tehillim 9 reminds us that true victory comes not just from the defeat of our adversaries, but from aligning ourselves with the Divine, embracing Torah, and seeking salvation through faith. It challenges us to consider where we place our trust and to remember that true and lasting refuge is found in God alone. So, the next time you feel besieged, remember David’s words and the wisdom of the rabbis: find joy in the Divine, and let your enemies retreat to their shame.

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