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Michael the Protector Who Also Escorted Israel Into Exile

Michael defends Israel in the heavenly court. He also escorted them into Babylonian exile. The tradition holds both facts without resolving the tension.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Angel Who Argues for Israel
  2. What Michael Does When Israel Sins
  3. The Song Sung at the Wrong Moment
  4. Gabriel and the Other Princes

The Angel Who Argues for Israel

When the nations of the world stand before the divine throne, each nation is represented by its celestial prince. These are the heavenly counterparts of earthly kingdoms, the beings whose fortunes are bound to the fortunes of the peoples they represent. Every nation has an angel. Israel has an archangel. Michael stands before the divine presence and argues Israel's case, presents Israel's prayers, intercedes when the prosecutorial forces gather against the nation, and speaks with an authority that no other national angel possesses.

The tradition is specific about why Michael's position is unique. It is not simply that he is more powerful than other national angels, though the texts describe him as the greatest. It is that his relationship to Israel is different in kind. Other angels serve their nations because those nations are assigned to them. Michael's connection to Israel is described in the Midrash as something closer to a personal bond, rooted in his history with the patriarchs, with Moses, with the wilderness generation, with every crisis in Israel's history where the heavenly advocate made the difference between destruction and survival.

What Michael Does When Israel Sins

The hard tradition is this: Michael's advocacy has limits. He argues for Israel when Israel can be argued for. He does not argue against the facts. When the accumulated weight of Israel's failures reached a point that the divine judgment could not be stayed, Michael did not fabricate a defense. He accepted the verdict. And then he did something that the Midrash describes with a grief that takes several readings to absorb: he led Israel into exile himself.

He walked at the head of the procession that left Jerusalem. He was the escort, the celestial presence accompanying a defeated and exiled people through the wilderness toward Babylon. He was still their protector in that moment, still the one responsible for them, still the being whose relationship to Israel had not changed. What had changed was the circumstances. Protection, in that hour, did not mean preventing the exile. It meant accompanying Israel through it.

The Song Sung at the Wrong Moment

A Chassidic tradition preserves an account of a celestial crisis that preceded the exile. At the moment of the Temple's destruction, Michael began to sing. The song he sang was not a lament. It was a song of praise, one of the great psalms of the heavenly choir, and it arrived at the wrong time, breaking through the silence of divine mourning before the mourning had run its course. The tradition records that this premature song cost Michael something, that the angel responsible for Israel's welfare had misjudged the moment, and that this failure was understood as a celestial echo of Israel's own failure to read the moment they were living in.

The tradition does not make Michael a tragic figure. It makes him a real one. An angel who can misjudge is an angel whose relationship to the events he oversees is genuine rather than mechanical. The misjudgment says something about the weight of what Michael was carrying: the grief of a protector watching the people he guards walk into catastrophe that his advocacy could not prevent.

Gabriel and the Other Princes

Michael is not alone in the celestial hierarchy that the tradition describes. Gabriel appears alongside him in Daniel and in rabbinic literature as the angel whose domain is the earth's material processes, fire, growth, the management of natural forces. Where Michael is Israel's advocate, Gabriel is the executor. When the Temple burned, rabbinic tradition holds that Gabriel's fire was involved. The same angel who brought fire from heaven also carried fire into the sanctuary in the year of the destruction.

The relationship between Michael and Gabriel, and between both of them and the other two archangels Uriel and Raphael, forms a structure in the celestial world that mirrors the structure of Israel's camp in the wilderness: four directions, four leaders, one central presence they all surround. The Midrash maps the archangels onto the tribal standards at Sinai and reads the celestial arrangement as the heavenly original that the earthly camp was designed to reflect.


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From the tradition

Sources

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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.

Midrash Ribesh Tov 2:55Chassidic Literature

For the Jewish people, tradition answers with a resounding name: Michael.

It's not always a simple story of unwavering support. Our relationship with Michael, the archangel, is..complicated.

Michael isn't just any angel; he's considered Israel's patron angel. He's our advocate, our celestial defender. The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) Ribesh Tov speaks of Michael’s role in this way. Imagine having an angel whose specific job is to watch over and protect the entire nation!

The story goes that Michael, in his role as advocate, once sang Israel's praises before God, commending our loyalty. But that caught the attention of a certain someone – you know, the Accuser, Satan.

And Satan, never one to miss an opportunity, challenged Michael, declaring he could strip away the holiness that had been entrusted to Israel. And tragically, according to this tale, he succeeded. Through sin and strife, through internal division and external pressures, Satan managed to snatch away that precious holiness. The Temple was destroyed. The people were sent into exile. A devastating blow.

And here's the really painful part: the angel Michael, our patron, actually led us into exile. Talk about feeling abandoned!

It’s a harsh image, isn’t it? To be led into exile by the very angel who was supposed to protect you. It raises so many questions. Did we fail? Did Michael give up on us?

But the story doesn't end there. There’s a crucial element of hope woven into this narrative.

The promise is that a day will come when it will be proven that Israel didn't intentionally surrender her trust. That despite the missteps, the betrayals, the moments of weakness, deep down, the commitment to God remained. And on that day, Israel will regain the favor of her patron angel, Michael. What does it mean to "regain the favor" of an angel? It speaks to a restoration of a relationship, a mending of a broken bond. Perhaps it suggests a time when divine favor is visibly restored to the Jewish people. Some might even say it's intertwined with the coming of the Messiah.

This idea of nations having their own guardian angels is an ancient one. We find it echoed in other traditions as well. It suggests a cosmic order, where each nation has a celestial representative, an advocate in the heavenly court. But what makes this particular myth so compelling is the vulnerability it exposes. It's not a story of guaranteed, unconditional protection. It's a story of relationship, of trust, and of the potential for both loss and redemption. As we see in other traditions, sometimes God is seen as Israel's guardian, while all other nations have angels as their guardians.

So, what does this mean for us today? Perhaps it's a call to examine our own actions, both individually and collectively. Are we living in a way that honors the trust that has been placed in us? Are we striving to embody the holiness that Satan sought to steal away? Or are we, God forbid, perpetuating the strife that led to the exile in the first place?

The story of Michael, our patron angel, is a reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope remains. The possibility of regaining favor, of restoring relationship, is always there. It requires work, yes. It demands introspection and a commitment to living a more righteous life. But the reward – the unwavering support of our celestial advocate – is a prize worth striving for.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 6:187Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to Birth of Michael.

So, what did Michael do? The text doesn't explicitly tell us. What it does tell us is Michael's defense: "I did it only to glorify Thee." Think of it like a zealous act, perhaps misguided, but ultimately intended to serve God's greater purpose. Ever been there?

Instead of further punishment, God appoints Michael as Jacob's guardian angel – and not just Jacob's, but his seed as well, meaning all of the Jewish people for all time. Think about the weight of that responsibility!

The language God uses is just beautiful. "Thou art a fire, and so is Jacob a fire." Both are forces to be reckoned with, powerful and transformative. "Thou art the head of the angels, and he is the head of the nations." This establishes a parallel, a divine connection between the angelic realm and the earthly one. Michael is supreme among the angels, and Jacob is supreme among the nations.

Then comes the key line: "Therefore he who is supreme over all the angels shall be appointed unto him who is supreme over all the peoples, that he may entreat mercy for him from the Supreme One over all." According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, this is the ultimate purpose. Michael, in his high position, can plead for mercy on behalf of the Jewish people before God. It's a system of divine advocacy. Even after what seems like a mistake, Michael is given this incredible role. It speaks to the idea of redemption, of finding purpose even in our missteps. And it establishes a powerful, enduring connection between the Jewish people and the angelic realm, a bond of protection and intercession that lasts "unto the end of all generations."

So, what does this mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that even when we stumble, we can still find our purpose. Maybe it's a comfort to know that, according to tradition, there's an angel out there advocating on our behalf. Or maybe it's just a fascinating glimpse into the tradition of Jewish folklore, a reminder that the stories we tell shape our understanding of the world, and our place within it.

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