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David Uncovered the Tehom Under the Temple

While digging the Temple foundations, David struck a shard that sealed the abyss, and when he lifted it, the waters of the deep began to rise toward the world.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Foundations That Went Too Deep
  2. The Water That Would Have Drowned the World
  3. The Deep Before Dry Land
  4. The Song of the Sea and the Depths

The Foundations That Went Too Deep

David was digging the Temple's foundations when the shovel hit something it could not account for. Fifteen hundred cubits down, in the earth beneath Jerusalem, the workers found a shard. A potsherd. A piece of broken ceramic resting on something underneath it.

David reached down and lifted the shard.

The tehom immediately began to rise.

The tehom is the primordial deep, the subterranean ocean that the Torah describes before creation, the same depths over which the divine spirit moved in Genesis 1. It is not a metaphor. In the rabbis' cosmology it is a physical place, below the earth, pressing against the foundations of the world from beneath. The shard that David lifted had been sitting over the opening to it, sealing it. When he removed the shard, the seal broke.

The Water That Would Have Drowned the World

The tehom, once it started rising, did not stop because David put the shard back. It had been opened and it wanted to be open. The Ginzberg account, drawing on midrashic sources, describes David watching the waters climb toward the surface and understanding that if they reached it, the world would flood. Not a local disaster. The primordial waters covering everything, the pre-creation state returning.

David called out: who knows how to write the Ineffable Name on a shard and throw it into the tehom? He was asking not for a prayer but for a technique. A specific inscription, placed on the right material, thrown into the rising waters, would seal the opening again. The king who composed the Psalms was now asking a technical question about the management of the deep.

Ahitophel, David's wise counselor whose wisdom the tradition treated as almost prophetic, supplied the answer. The Name was written. The shard was thrown. The tehom receded. The water went back down sixteen thousand cubits before it stopped. David recited the fifteen Psalms of Ascent immediately afterward, one for each thousand cubits the water had descended, as if counting it back into place.

The Deep Before Dry Land

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, an early medieval midrashic text that expands biblical narratives, describes the state of things before creation's fifth chapter: before dry land, before even the gathering of the waters, there were the tehomot, the primordial depths. These were not empty darkness. They were the raw material from which everything would eventually be shaped, pressing against the not-yet-formed world from every direction.

The act of creation was partly the act of holding the tehom back. God gathered the waters and made them oceans. The earth appeared where the waters were not. The boundaries between sea and land are not natural features of an indifferent universe. They are boundaries established and maintained by divine decision. Below them, the tehom has been there since before creation and will be there until after it.

The Song of the Sea and the Depths

After the crossing of the sea, Miriam and Moses sang. The line in the Song of the Sea, The depths covered them (Exodus 15:5), attracted rabbinic attention because the Israelites had just crossed on dry ground. The seabed had been exposed. There were no depths there. The Mekhilta asked the question: what depths?

Its answer reveals the cosmological dimension of the Exodus that the narrative's surface does not show. The lower depths, the subterranean tehom, rose and covered the Egyptians from below while the walls of water collapsed on them from the sides. The miracle at the sea was not simply a wall of water. It was a coordinated event involving the deep that sat under the earth, the same tehom that had threatened to flood the world when David lifted the shard, now recruited for the protection of Israel.

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From the tradition

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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 4:36Legends of the Jews

The familiar version gives us David as the shepherd boy who slew Goliath, the king who united Israel, the poet of the Psalms. But did you know he almost accidentally destroyed the world?

The story goes that when David was preparing to build the Temple in Jerusalem – the Temple that his son Solomon would eventually complete – he ran into a bit of a problem. While digging the foundations, way, way down – fifteen hundred cubits deep, which is an awfully long way – they unearthed a mysterious shard.

David, being David, wasn't easily deterred. He went to pick it up, but the shard itself cried out! "Thou canst not do it!" it protested.

Intrigued, David asked, "Why not?" And the shard revealed its secret: "Because I rest upon the tehom," the abyss.

Think of the tehom as the primordial deep, the chaotic waters that existed before creation, the very foundation – or lack thereof – upon which the world is built. This shard, according to this legend, was holding it all back.

"Since when?" David inquired. The shard explained that it had been there since the very moment God spoke the Ten Commandments at Sinai, proclaiming, "Anochi Adonai Elohecha," "I am the Lord thy God." (Exodus 20:2). The Zohar, that foundational text of Jewish mysticism, often speaks of the power unleashed at Sinai, a power that shook the very foundations of existence. The earth quaked, sank into the abyss, and this shard was placed to cover it up.

But David, in his zeal to build the Temple, wasn’t deterred. He lifted the shard anyway. And what happened? Disaster! The waters of the tehom, the abyss, surged upward, threatening to flood the entire earth.

Talk about a construction delay!

Now, lurking in the background was Ahithophel, one of David’s advisors – a brilliant but ultimately treacherous figure. Ahithophel saw this as his opportunity. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, he thought, "Now David will meet with his death, and I shall be king!"

But David, ever resourceful, wasn't ready to give up. He knew that someone present had the knowledge to stop this catastrophe. He issued a warning: "Whoever knows how to stem the tide of waters, and fails to do it, will one day throttle himself."

Yikes. Talk about pressure!

Ahithophel, knowing he was the only one who could avert the disaster, stepped forward. He inscribed the ineffable Name of God – the Shem Hameforash – upon the shard and threw it back into the abyss. Immediately, the waters began to subside.

Crisis averted… almost.

The waters sank so far down that David then feared the earth would lose its moisture and become barren. So, what did he do? He sang! He recited the fifteen "Songs of Ascents" (Shir Hama'alot) – Psalms 120-134 – to bring the waters back up to their proper level. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, these songs have a unique power to influence the natural world.

What a story. A talking shard, a near-apocalyptic flood, and the power of sacred song to restore balance. It really makes you think about the forces, both seen and unseen, that are constantly at play beneath the surface of our world. And maybe, just maybe, the importance of knowing when to leave well enough alone. Or, failing that, knowing the right song to sing.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 5:2Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Jewish tradition, in its rich and imaginative way, offers some truly breathtaking answers.

In the fifth chapter of Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval text that explores biblical narratives and expands upon them, we get a glimpse into that very "before." It paints a picture of a world in its rawest, most elemental form.

Before the dry land, before even the gathering of the waters, there were the tehomot – the depths. These weren’t just any depths,. These were the primordial depths, the very foundation upon which everything else would rest. Think of them as the subterranean oceans, lying beneath the earth. The earth, in this image, isn't fixed and solid as we perceive it, but rather "spread upon the water like a ship which floats in the midst of the sea." It’s a beautiful and somewhat precarious image, isn't it? A world supported by the very thing that could also swallow it whole. This echoes the sentiment we find in (Psalms 136:6): "To him that spread forth the earth above the waters…"

It doesn't stop there. Even before creation, we learn, God prepared for what was to come. Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us that He "opened an entrance to the Garden of Eden." Now, this isn't just about a beautiful garden, but a source – a wellspring from which all vegetation would spring forth. From this source "were planted upon the face of all the earth all kinds of trees yielding fruit according to their kind, and all kinds of herbs and grass thereof, and in them (was seed)." It’s that underlying promise of abundance, pre-ordained and waiting to burst forth. This, of course, connects back to (Genesis 1:11), where we see the earth bringing forth vegetation.

And here’s where it gets truly wondrous. Before the creatures were even created, God prepared their sustenance. "He prepared a table for the creatures whilst as yet they were not created." It's a powerful statement about divine providence, a theme that runs deep within Jewish thought. Even before we exist, a benevolent force is anticipating our needs. This resonates beautifully with (Psalm 23:5): "Thou preparest a table before me."

Finally, the text reminds us that "All the fountains arise from the depths to give water to all creatures." It's a reminder that everything is interconnected. The life-giving waters, the very essence of existence, originate from those same primordial depths, the tehomot. It’s a complete cycle, a continuous flow of sustenance and renewal.

So, what does this all mean? What can we take away from this glimpse into the "before"? Perhaps it’s a reminder of the incredible foresight and planning that went into creation. Or maybe it’s a evidence of the interconnectedness of all things, the delicate balance upon which our world rests. It's about the constant flow of abundance, the ever-present provision that sustains us, even before we know we need it. And maybe, just maybe, it encourages us to look beyond the surface, to appreciate the hidden depths that lie beneath, both within ourselves and in the world around us.

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Mekhilta Tractate Shirah 5:1Mekhilta DeRabbi Yishmael

The Song of the Sea declares: "The depths covered them" (Exodus 15:5). The Mekhilta asks an obvious but brilliant question: are there really depths at the bottom of the sea? The Israelites had just crossed on dry ground, the seabed was exposed, solid, walkable. So what does the verse mean by "depths" covering the Egyptians?

The answer reveals a cosmic dimension to the miracle that goes far beyond a simple wall of water collapsing. According to the Mekhilta, the lower depths, the subterranean waters beneath the earth itself, rose upward to meet the upper depths of the sea. The tehomot (primordial deep waters) that exist beneath the earth's crust surged up through the dry seabed just as the walls of water crashed in from the sides.

The Egyptians were therefore attacked from below and above simultaneously. The waters did not simply return to their normal position. The deep called to the deep. Subterranean forces that had been sealed beneath the earth since creation erupted upward, while the piled waters of the sea came crashing down. The torrents embattled the Egyptians from every direction.

This image transforms the splitting of the sea from a dramatic natural event into a full-scale cosmic upheaval. God did not merely move water out of the way and then move it back. He summoned the primordial depths themselves, the same tehom that covered the earth before creation in (Genesis 1:2), to rise from below and participate in the judgment. The very foundations of the earth opened up to swallow Pharaoh's army.

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Tikkunei Zohar 118:11Tikkunei Zohar

It's woven right into the fabric of creation itself.

The passage But not in some detached, courtroom-in-the-sky kind of way. Instead, this judgment is enclothed, as the text says, "in 'chaos, void, darkness, and abyss.'" for a second. Tohu (chaos), bohu (void), ḥoshekh (darkness), and tehom (abyss). These aren't just abstract concepts; they're the raw materials, the primordial soup, from which everything emerged. It's a powerful image, isn't it? Judgment isn't something separate from creation; it's baked right in.

What’s even wilder is that this judgment manifests through the four capital punishments described in Jewish law! The text goes on to say that these punishments – burning, stoning, decapitation, and strangulation – are all represented by letters within the divine name. The letters themselves become symbolic of divine justice.

Let's zoom in on one of them: burning (sreiphah). The Tikkunei Zohar connects it to the letters Yod (י), Vav (ו), and Hei-Hei (ה-ה). These aren't just random letters; they're sparks of fire, colors of light, reflections of the verse in Deuteronomy (4:24): "For YHVH your God is a consuming fire." Whoa.

And what about stoning (sqilah)? According to this passage, it's represented by three Yods (י־י־י). Now, the numerical value of YQV"Q is 26. And the numerical value of three Yods is 30. So, the text points out the connection between the divine name and this form of punishment by noting their combined numerical value. It's like a hidden code, revealing the underlying structure of divine judgment.

Why all this intensity? Why connect the divine name with such harsh concepts? Perhaps it's a reminder that creation and destruction, mercy and justice, are two sides of the same coin. That even in the darkest corners of existence, there's a spark of the divine. Or maybe it's a call to take responsibility for our actions, knowing that our choices have consequences that ripple through the cosmos.

It’s a lot to take in, I know. But the next time you're feeling judged, maybe remember this passage from the Tikkunei Zohar. Remember the chaos, the void, the darkness, and the abyss. And remember that even within them, there's a spark of hope, a flicker of light, waiting to be kindled.

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