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Elisha ben Abuya Saw a Seated Angel and Left Heaven a Heretic

Four sages entered the Pardes. One came out and kept talking about two divine powers. The Talmud stopped using his name and called him Aher, the Other.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Four Who Entered
  2. What He Saw That Broke Him
  3. The Teacher Who Would Not Let Him Go
  4. What Happened at the Dawn of Creation
  5. The Question the Tradition Could Not Answer

Four Who Entered

Ben Azzai entered and died. Ben Zoma entered and was struck. Akiva entered and came out in peace. And Elisha ben Abuya entered and cut the shoots.

That last phrase, to cut the shoots, means to commit heresy. To damage the living plant of tradition from within. The Talmud does not soften it. Elisha entered the Pardes, the divine orchard at the edge of mystical knowledge, and came out holding something he would not put down for the rest of his life, and what he was holding made him dangerous to everyone around him.

The Talmud stopped using his name. It called him Aher: the Other. Not a nickname. A verdict.

What He Saw That Broke Him

The Babylonian Talmud, tractate Chagigah 15a, records what Elisha saw with clinical precision. The angel Metatron was seated. In heaven, no one sits except God. Every angel stands. The distinction between standing and sitting is the distinction between service and sovereignty, between the created and the creator, between every being that exists and the one being whose existence is its own justification. There is one throne. One occupant. One sovereignty.

Metatron was seated on a throne of his own, and when Elisha saw it, something in him concluded that there must be two divine powers. Two thrones meant two rulers. The Shema was incomplete. Or wrong. Or, most devastating of all, a simplification that did not capture what was actually happening at the top of creation. He walked out of the Pardes with a conclusion he had reached by direct observation in the highest accessible place and he would not revise it.

The angels struck Metatron sixty blows of fire immediately. They punished the angel for causing the confusion. Metatron rose from the seat. But it was too late. The damage was done before the correction arrived, which is how damage usually works.

The Teacher Who Would Not Let Him Go

Rabbi Meir had been Elisha's student before the Pardes. After Aher cut the shoots and began openly teaching heresy, the rabbis turned away from him. Not Meir. He kept visiting. He kept learning from his teacher even after his teacher had been declared the Other. The rabbis asked him why he persisted and he said: I find a pomegranate, I eat the inside and throw away the rind.

The tradition records the two of them riding together on the Sabbath, Aher on his horse and Meir on foot beside him, Meir absorbing whatever his teacher was willing to give and Aher knowing that the young man walking next to him was the one who would carry his teaching forward without the heresy. At one point Aher told Meir to stop: we have reached the Sabbath boundary. If you go further you will violate the Sabbath. The man who had rejected the tradition was still keeping track of its boundaries for the student he could not bring himself to stop teaching.

What Happened at the Dawn of Creation

The mystical tradition on Elisha extends into the preexistence of souls, the arrangements made before creation, the place each soul occupied in the divine plan before descending into the world. Elisha's soul was present at the dawn of creation. The aggadic material on Elisha preserves fragments of this early presence, the sense of a soul that had been close to the highest mysteries from the beginning and had not found a way to hold that proximity without being broken by it.

What Elisha saw in the Pardes was not a hallucination. It was real. Metatron was seated. The angels corrected the situation by punishing Metatron, but the correction proved the reality of what Elisha had seen. His eyes had reported the arrangement truly. His mind had drawn the ruinous conclusion. The difference between a seated angel and a second divine power is the difference between an exceptional arrangement and a fundamental structure, and Elisha, the most gifted mystic of his generation, could not find a way to hold the observation without collapsing it into the conclusion that cost him everything.

The Question the Tradition Could Not Answer

What happened to Aher after death? The tradition argued about it in multiple places. Some said he had no portion in the world to come. Meir said he would bring his teacher's soul out from judgment by his own merit. The Talmud records that smoke rose from Elisha's grave, and Meir said: it is not proper that my teacher should be burned, and the smoke stopped. But then the rabbis said: neither is it proper for this person to go directly to the world to come, and the grave went cold again. The tradition could not decide where to put Elisha because Elisha did not fit any of the categories. He was the Other because there was no existing category that contained what he had been and what he had done and what had happened to him in the Pardes.


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Chagigah 15aTalmud Bavli, Chagigah

I can engage in intercourse several times without blood. In other words, I can have relations with a woman while leaving her hymen intact. If this is so, it is possible that the assumed virgin had intercourse in this manner and is forbidden to the High Priest. Or, perhaps a person who can act like Shmuel is not common and the halakha is not concerned with this case.

He said to them: One like Shmuel is not common, and we are concerned that she may have conceived in a bath. Perhaps she washed in a bath that contained a man’s semen, from which she became impregnated while remaining a virgin. The Gemara asks: How could she possibly become pregnant in such a manner? Didn’t Shmuel say: Any semen that is not shot like an arrow cannot fertilize?

The Gemara answers: This does not mean that it must be shot like an arrow at the moment of fertilization. Even if initially, when released from the male, it was shot as an arrow, it can also fertilize a woman at a later moment. With regard to the fate of ben Zoma, the Sages taught: There was once an incident with regard to Rabbi Yehoshua ben Ḥananya, who was standing on a step on the Temple Mount, and ben Zoma saw him and did not stand before him to honor him, as he was deep in thought.

Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: From where do you come and where are you going, ben Zoma, i.e., what is on your mind? He said to him: In my thoughts I was looking upon the act of Creation, at the gap between the upper waters and the lower waters, as there is only the breadth of a mere three fingers between them, as it is stated: “And the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:2), like a dove hovering over its young without touching them.

Rabbi Yehoshua said to his students who had overheard this exchange: Ben Zoma is still outside; he has not yet achieved full understanding of these matters. The Gemara explains: Now, this verse: “And the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters,” when was it stated? On the first day, whereas the division of the waters occurred on the second day, as it is written: “And let it divide the waters from the waters” (Genesis 1:6).

How, then, could ben Zoma derive a proof from the former verse? The Gemara asks: And how much, in fact, is the gap between them? Rav Aḥa bar Ya’akov said: Like the thickness of a thread; and the Rabbis said: Like the gap between the boards of a bridge. Mar Zutra, and some say it was Rav Asi, said: Like two robes spread one over the other, with a slight gap in between.

And some said: Like two cups placed one upon the other. § The Gemara stated earlier that Aḥer chopped down the saplings, becoming a heretic. With regard to him, the verse states: “Do not let your mouth bring your flesh into guilt” (Ecclesiastes 5:5). The Gemara poses a question: What was it that led him to heresy? He saw the angel Mitatron, who was granted permission to sit and write the merits of Israel.

He said: There is a tradition that in the world above there is no sitting; no competition; no turning one’s back before Him, i.e., all face the Divine Presence; and no lethargy. Seeing that someone other than God was seated above, he said: Perhaps, the Gemara here interjects, Heaven forbid, there are two authorities, and there is another source of power in control of the world in addition to God. Such thoughts led Aḥer to heresy.

The Gemara relates: They removed Mitatron from his place in heaven and smote him with sixty rods [pulsei] of fire, so that others would not make the mistake that Aḥer made. They said to the angel: What is the reason that when you saw Elisha ben Avuya you did not stand before him? Despite this conduct, since Mitatron was personally involved, he was granted permission to erase the merits of Aḥer and cause him to stumble in any manner.

A Divine Voice went forth saying: “Return, rebellious children” (Jeremiah 3:22), apart from Aḥer. Upon hearing this, Elisha ben Avuya said: Since that man, meaning himself, has been banished from that world, let him go out and enjoy this world. Aḥer went astray. He went and found a prostitute and solicited her for intercourse.

She said to him: And are you not Elisha ben Avuya? Shall a person of your stature perform such an act? He uprooted a radish from a patch of radishes on Shabbat and gave it to her, to demonstrate that he no longer observed the Torah. The prostitute said: He is other than he was.

He is not the same Elisha ben Avuya, he is Aḥer, other. The Gemara relates: Aḥer asked Rabbi Meir a question, after he had gone astray. He said to him: What is the meaning of that which is written: “God has made even the one as well as the other” (Ecclesiastes 7:14)? Rabbi Meir said to him: Everything that the Holy One, Blessed be He, created, He created a similar creation corresponding to it.

He created mountains, He created hills; He created seas, He created rivers. Aḥer said to him: Rabbi Akiva, your teacher, did not say so, but explained the verse as follows: Everything has its opposite: He created the righteous, He created the wicked; He created the Garden of Eden, He created Gehenna. Each and every person has two portions, one in the Garden of Eden and one in Gehenna. If he merits it, by becoming righteous, he takes his portion and the portion of his wicked colleague in the Garden of Eden; if he is found culpable by becoming wicked, he takes his portion and the portion of his colleague in Gehenna.

Rav Mesharshiyya said: What is the verse from which it is derived? With regard to the righteous, it is stated: “Therefore in their land they shall possess double” (Isaiah 61:7); whereas with regard to the wicked, it is stated: “And destroy them with double destruction” (Jeremiah 17:18); therefore, each receives a double portion. Aḥer asked Rabbi Meir another question, again after he had gone astray.

What is the meaning of that which is written: “Gold and glass cannot equal it; neither shall its exchange be vessels of fine gold” (Job 28:17)? If it is referring to the praise and honor of the Torah, it should have compared it only to gold, not to glass. He said to him: This is referring to words of Torah, which are as difficult to acquire as gilded vessels and vessels of fine gold but are as easy to lose as glass vessels.

Aḥer said to him: Rabbi Akiva, your teacher, did not say so, but taught as follows: Just as golden vessels and glass vessels have a remedy even when they have broken, as they can be melted down and made into new vessels, so too a Torah scholar, although he has transgressed, has a remedy. Rabbi Meir said to him: If so, you too, return from your ways. He said to him: I have already heard the following declaration behind the dividing curtain, which conceals God from the world: “Return, rebellious children,” (Jeremiah 3:22) apart from Aḥer.

The Gemara cites a related story: The Sages taught: There was once an incident involving Aḥer, who was riding on a horse on Shabbat, and Rabbi Meir was walking behind him to learn Torah from him. After a while, Aḥer said to him: Meir, turn back, for I have already estimated and measured according to the steps of my horse that the Shabbat boundary ends here, and you may therefore venture no further.

Rabbi Meir said to him: You, too, return to the correct path. He said to him: But have I not already told you that I have already heard behind the dividing curtain: “Return, rebellious children,” apart from Aḥer? Nevertheless, Rabbi Meir took hold of him and brought him to the study hall. Aḥer said to a child, by way of divination: Recite your verse that you studied today to me.

He recited the following verse to him: “There is no peace, said the Lord, concerning the wicked” (Isaiah 48:22). He brought him to another study hall. Aḥer said to a child: Recite your verse to me. He recited to him: “For though you wash with niter, and take for you much soap, yet your iniquity is marked before Me” (Jeremiah 2:22). He brought him to another study hall. Aḥer said to

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Kohelet Rabbah 8:1Kohelet Rabbah

The verse in question is (Ecclesiastes 7:8): "The end of a matter is better than its beginning; one of patient spirit is better than one of proud spirit." The rabbis, as they often do, unpack this verse with stories and thought-provoking examples.

One particularly striking story involves Rabbi Meir and his former teacher, Elisha ben Avuya – a brilliant scholar who tragically fell from grace. Rabbi Meir is teaching in Tiberias when he learns that Elisha is riding through the marketplace on Shabbat – a clear violation of Jewish law. He goes to meet his former teacher, and their conversation is laced with both respect and profound sadness.

Rabbi Meir tells Elisha that he's been discussing the verse "The Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning" (Job 42:12). Elisha corrects him, saying that Rabbi Akiva, their teacher, taught that Job's later blessings were a result of his repentance and good deeds. This sets the stage for a deeper discussion about endings and beginnings.

Rabbi Meir offers several interpretations of "the end of a matter is better than its beginning." He suggests it could refer to a merchant who finds success later in life, or a person who loses children in their youth but finds solace and continuity in old age. He even suggests it could describe someone who does wicked deeds when young, but turns to good deeds later in life, or someone who forgets their Torah learning, but then rediscovers it.

But Elisha isn't convinced. He counters that the end of a matter is only good if it was good from the beginning. He then shares a painful story from his own life. His father, Avuya, celebrated his birth with a lavish feast, inviting prominent scholars like Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua. The atmosphere was electric, filled with Torah study that felt as vibrant as the revelation at Sinai. Avuya, impressed by the power of Torah, declared that he would dedicate his son to its study. But, Elisha laments, because his father's intention wasn't purely for the sake of Heaven, his own Torah learning didn't endure.

The story then explores the reasons for Elisha’s tragic downfall. One account says that Elisha became disillusioned after witnessing what he perceived as injustice. He saw a man violate the commandment to send away the mother bird before taking the fledglings (Deuteronomy 22:7). The man climbed the tree and took both the mother and the fledglings, but came to no harm, and, later, another man who observed the commandment died after doing so. Elisha questioned the fairness of divine reward and punishment, forgetting Rabbi Akiva's teaching that the reward for mitzvot (commandments) is experienced in the Olam Ha'ba (the World to Come). Another version says that Elisha had a craving for idol worship instilled in him when his pregnant mother ate food from a pagan sacrifice. Still another says that he was disgusted by the sight of Rabbi Yehuda the baker's tongue in the mouth of a dog.

Whatever the reason, Elisha’s story serves as a cautionary tale. He even heard a Divine Voice proclaiming that repentance was possible for everyone "except for Elisha ben Avuya, who was aware of My might and rebelled against Me."

Despite his state, Rabbi Meir never gives up on his teacher. When Elisha falls ill, Rabbi Meir visits him and urges him to repent. Elisha wonders if repentance is even possible for him at this point. Rabbi Meir responds, quoting (Psalms 90:3), reminding him that God accepts repentance even when one's soul is crushed. At that moment, Elisha weeps and dies, leading Rabbi Meir to believe that his teacher had finally repented.

After Elisha's death, a fire engulfs his grave. Rabbi Meir, ever loyal, spreads his garment over the grave, reciting verses from Ruth, pleading for Elisha's redemption. It's a powerful scene of a student's unwavering devotion to his teacher, even after his teacher has strayed from the path.

The story doesn't end there. Later, Elisha's daughters are in need, and initially, they are denied charity. However, after it is revealed that they possess the wisdom of their father and demonstrate modest comportment, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi recognizes the value of their lineage and orders that they be supported. This act acknowledges that even from a broken vessel, something of value can remain.

The text then moves on to another interpretation of "one of patient spirit is better than one of proud spirit," contrasting the approaches of Rav and Shmuel in teaching a Persian convert the Hebrew alphabet. Rav, impatient and demanding, quickly dismisses the Persian when he questions the letters. Shmuel, on the other hand, patiently guides him, ultimately leading him to accept the Torah.

Finally, the text relates a story about Aquila, a proselyte, who questioned Rabbi Eliezer about the love God has for converts. Rabbi Eliezer's initial response seems dismissive, focusing only on the basic necessities of "bread and a garment" (Deuteronomy 10:18). However, Rabbi Yehoshua offers a more nuanced and encouraging interpretation, equating "bread" with Torah and "garment" with glory.

These stories highlight the importance of patience, understanding, and the enduring power of Torah. They remind us that even when things start poorly, or when people stumble along the way, the possibility of a better ending always exists. And that sometimes, the most effective way to guide someone is not through harsh judgment, but through patient encouragement and a willingness to see the good that remains.

So, what do you think? Can the end truly be better than the beginning? And what role does patience play in helping ourselves and others achieve that better ending? It's definitely something to ponder.

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Bereshit Rabbah 53:2Bereshit Rabbah

Like something ripped straight from the pages of a philosophical thriller. But the question, "Will a person be more just than God? Will a man be purer than his Maker?" isn’t new. It’s right there in the Book of Job (4:17). And it’s a question that our Sages in Bereshit Rabbah confront in a surprisingly beautiful way.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), in Bereshit Rabbah 53, dives right in: "Is it possible for a person to be more just than God? Is it possible for a person to be purer than his Creator?" It's a challenge, a provocation. So, where do we even begin to unpack something like that?

The Rabbis turn to stories. Specifically, the story of Elisha and the Shunamite woman from the Book of Kings (II (Kings 4:1)6). You remember the story. Elisha promises this woman, who has shown him great kindness, that she will have a son.

Here's the interesting twist. When Elisha makes the promise, he says, “At this very time next year, at this very time, you will embrace a son.” The woman, understandably, is skeptical. “No, my lord, man of God, do not deceive your maidservant!” (II (Kings 4:1)6).

Why her hesitation? Well, the Midrash contrasts Elisha’s words with the angels who brought the news to Sarah that she, too, would have a son. The angels said, “At the prescribed time, I will return to you; at this very time next year, Sarah will have a son” (Genesis 18:14). See the difference? The angels say "I will return." They speak with certainty about the future.

The Shunamite woman seems to be thinking something like, "Elisha, you're not an angel! You might not even be here next year. Why not just say, like the angels, that you will return?"

And Elisha’s response is incredibly poignant. He tells her that the angels, being immortal, could promise their return. But he, Elisha, a man of flesh and blood, "alive today and dead tomorrow," can only promise that whether he is alive or dead, "at this very time, you will embrace a son.” Elisha, in his humility, acknowledges his own mortality. He cannot guarantee his presence, but he guarantees the fulfillment of the promise. It’s a promise rooted not in divine power, but in the unwavering certainty of God's word.

And what happens? The verse reads, "The woman conceived and bore a son at that time the next year, at that very time that Elisha had spoken to her” (II (Kings 4:1)7).

So, the Midrash concludes with a powerful rhetorical question: "If the words of flesh and blood are fulfilled, will the words of the Holy One blessed be He not be fulfilled?" The Lord remembered Sarah as He had said.

The implication is clear. God’s promises are absolutely reliable. But what this Midrash does is highlight the power and importance of human reliability. Elisha’s commitment, even in the face of his own mortality, serves as a model for our own faithfulness.

Perhaps, then, the question from Job isn't about whether a human can be more just than God, but whether we can strive to embody the same unwavering commitment to truth and promise that God exemplifies. It’s not about surpassing God, but about reflecting God’s qualities in our own lives. It's about recognizing that even in our finite existence, we have the capacity to be a source of blessing and fulfillment in the world, just as Elisha was for the Shunamite woman.

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