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Jeremiah Summons the Patriarchs to See the Ruins

After the Temple fell, God sent Jeremiah to wake the Patriarchs from their graves. Jeremiah lied to them. He feared they would blame him for what had happened.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Errand to the Dead
  2. Why Jeremiah Lied to the Fathers of Israel
  3. What Abraham Said Before God
  4. Rachel's Argument and the Answer

The Errand to the Dead

Jeremiah was afraid to tell Abraham the truth.

After the First Temple fell, after Nebuchadnezzar's armies had burned the sanctuary and driven the people into exile, God gave the prophet an assignment unlike any other: travel to the cave of Machpelah at Hebron, the double burial cave where the Patriarchs lay, and wake them. Bring them before God. They were summoned.

Jeremiah went. He stood at the entrance to the cave and called them out, one by one. And when they came and asked him why God had summoned them, he told them he did not know.

He was lying.

Why Jeremiah Lied to the Fathers of Israel

When he traveled to the Jordan River and called out to Moses, the son of Amram, arise, thou art cited to appear before God, Moses asked in alarm: what has happened? And Jeremiah said again: I know not.

The tradition offers the reason plainly. Jeremiah feared the Patriarchs would blame him. The Temple had fallen on his watch. During his prophetic tenure, the kingdom had collapsed, the people had gone into exile, the house that Solomon had built to stand forever had been burned to the ground. He had warned them. He had been imprisoned for warning them. He had been thrown into a lime pit. He had delivered every message God had given him with complete faithfulness. None of that changed the fact that he was the prophet of the generation that lost everything, and he did not know how to stand before the men who had been promised the land and say: it is gone and your descendants are in chains walking to Babylon.

So he said he did not know.

What Abraham Said Before God

The Patriarchs arrived before God carrying their grief and their questions, and the confrontation that followed was not what Jeremiah had feared. Abraham wept. Not with blame, not with accusation. With something that the tradition records as an overwhelming anguish on behalf of his children that he could not contain. He appealed to God, invoking every covenant, every promise, every sacrifice from the binding of Isaac forward, asking how this could have happened to the people who had been promised so much.

Isaac pointed to his own bound limbs, to the altar on Moriah, to everything he had surrendered when he lay down on the wood and accepted the knife above him. Jacob wept for the twelve tribes he had fathered, for the generations he had seen in vision who were now walking in chains.

And then Rachel spoke.

Rachel's Argument and the Answer

Rachel spoke last, and her argument was different from the Patriarchs'. She did not invoke her merit or her suffering or the covenant. She invoked a fact. She told God that she had allowed Leah, her sister and rival, to marry Jacob in her place, that she had given Leah the passwords and the signs, had hidden under the bridal bed and spoken the responses so that Leah would not be shamed. If Rachel, made of flesh, had surrendered her husband to her rival and felt no jealousy that prevented her mercy, how much more should God surrender the Presence in the Temple to an idol that was nothing, and feel no jealousy that prevented mercy toward the children of that bed?

The tradition records that this argument moved God in a way that the Patriarchs' arguments had not. A divine voice spoke: for your sake, Rachel, I will return Israel to their place.

Jeremiah had been afraid the Patriarchs would blame him. Instead, they went before God and made arguments on his people's behalf. His fear had been reasonable, given everything. It had also been wrong.

JeremiahPatriarchsTempleExileProphecy
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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 10:30Legends of the Jews

The story goes that after the destruction of the First Temple, the prophet Jeremiah found himself with a daunting task. He was told to bring the news to the Avot, the Patriarchs themselves. He sought them out in the Machpelah, the Double Cave – the resting place of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. "Arise," Jeremiah called, "You are summoned to appear before God."

Can you imagine the weight of that moment? They, the very foundations of the Jewish people, were being called upon. But Jeremiah, fearing their reaction, didn't reveal the full truth. He worried they might blame him for the catastrophe that had befallen Israel during his time. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, he feigned ignorance.

Next, Jeremiah journeyed to the banks of the Jordan River, where he called out to Moses, "Thou son of Amram, son of Amram, arise, thou are cited to appear before God." Moses, understandably alarmed, asked, "What has happened this day, that God calls me unto Him?" But again, Jeremiah kept the truth hidden, replying, "I know not."

Poor Moses. He had to learn the devastating news, the destruction of the Temple, the exile of Israel, from the angels themselves. Can you picture his reaction? Overwhelmed with weeping and mourning, Moses joined the Patriarchs. Together, they tore their garments and wrung their hands, a visceral display of grief. They made their way to the ruins of the Temple.

And there, the wailing intensified. The angels, too, were inconsolable. "How desolate are the highways to Jerusalem," they lamented, "the highways destined for travel without end! How deserted are the streets that once were thronged at the seasons of the pilgrimages!"

The angels' cries, as recorded in Legends of the Jews, were a powerful indictment: "O Lord of the world, with Abraham the father of Thy people, who taught the world to know Thee as the ruler of the universe, Thou didst make a covenant, that through him and his descendants the earth should be filled with people, and now Thou hast dissolved Thy covenant with him."

The pain was palpable. They continued, "O Lord of the world! Thou hast scorned Zion and Jerusalem, once Thy chosen habitation. Thou hast dealt more harshly with Israel than with the generation of Enosh, the first idolaters."

The comparison to the generation of Enosh, the first idolaters, is particularly striking. It highlights the depth of the perceived betrayal. Had Israel fallen so far that they were being treated worse than those who openly rejected God?

This story, found in Legends of the Jews, isn't just a historical account. It's a powerful exploration of loss, faith, and the enduring connection between God and the Jewish people, even in the face of unimaginable devastation. It makes you wonder: what is our responsibility when faced with tragedy, both personal and collective? And how do we maintain faith when the very foundations of our world seem to crumble beneath us?

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Shemot Rabbah 44:5Shemot Rabbah

Take, for instance, this powerful moment described in Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus. We find Moses, pleading with God. The Israelites have, shall we say, messed up. Big time. They’ve angered the Almighty. And Moses, their leader, their advocate, stands in the gap, trying to avert disaster.

What does he do? He doesn't just beg for mercy. He reminds God. But not just of anything. He reminds God of the merits of the Avot, the Patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (also called Israel, hence the text's wording). It’s a powerful, almost audacious move.

Why these three? Well, the Rabbis in Shemot Rabbah break it down. They imagine Moses saying, "Master of the Universe, if these people are destined to be burned, remember Abraham!" Remember Abraham, who, as the story goes, was thrown into a fiery furnace for refusing to worship idols. Remember his unwavering faith, his willingness to sacrifice everything, even his own life, for God's name. Let his sacrifice serve as a substitute, an atonement, for the sins that have earned his descendants this fiery punishment.

What if fire isn't the threat? What if the Israelites face the executioner's blade? Then, Moses argues, remember Isaac. Remember the Akeidah, the Binding of Isaac. Remember how Isaac, a young man, willingly laid himself upon the altar, ready to be sacrificed to fulfill God's command. Remember his obedience, his ultimate act of surrender. Let his willingness to have his neck stretched out on the altar be a merit that saves the necks of his children.

And finally, what if the punishment is exile? What if the people are to be scattered, uprooted from their land? Then, Moses pleads, remember Jacob, also known as Israel. Remember his long years of exile, his flight from his brother Esau, his arduous journey to Haran, a foreign land. Remember his struggles, his perseverance, his ultimate return. Let his exile be an exchange for the exile facing his descendants.

“Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel.” It's more than just a prayer. It’s a profound statement about the interconnectedness of generations. It's a recognition that we are not alone, that we carry within us the legacy of those who came before. Their trials, their triumphs, their sacrifices, they all resonate in our own lives.

It makes you think, doesn't it? What are we building now? What sacrifices are we making? And how will those sacrifices echo in the lives of generations yet to come? Because, according to this ancient wisdom, they absolutely will.

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