5 min read

Moses Toured Paradise and Found No Map Could Contain It

Gabriel leads Moses through Paradise where seventy golden thrones wait and Shamshiel the angel of Paradise admits he cannot measure its borders.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Gabriel Came to Lead Him Away From the Horror
  2. Seventy Thrones of Gold
  3. The Prince of Paradise Could Not Measure It
  4. Nuriel Led Him Further In
  5. Moses Continued to Serve After Death

Gabriel Came to Lead Him Away From the Horror

Moses had seen the places of punishment. He had stood before the chambers where souls received what they had done. He had prayed, not only for himself but for Israel, that they would be kept from what he had witnessed. God's answer was the rule that applied without exception: whoever does good enters Paradise, and whoever does evil faces judgment. No lineage, rank, or prayer could change the account. Even Moses could not move the scales on another person's behalf.

After that answer, Gabriel came. He led Moses away from what he had seen and brought him to the gates of Paradise. The passage through the upper worlds continued, but the destination had changed from horror to wonder.

Seventy Thrones of Gold

Inside the gates, Moses saw seventy thrones of gold. Each throne stood in its place, and each was guarded by angels. The thrones waited for specific people, the righteous whose acts in the world below had prepared a seat for them above. The gold was not decoration. It was the weight of what had been built through right living in a world that makes right living difficult.

Moses walked through and saw what was waiting. Not for him alone. For everyone. The seats were empty in the sense that their occupants had not yet arrived, but they were full in the sense that they had been assigned. A person going about daily life in the world below did not know their throne was waiting. Moses knew. Moses saw the addresses and the names, the weight of the gold proportional to what had been given.

The Prince of Paradise Could Not Measure It

Moses asked the question any reasonable person would ask when standing inside something extraordinary: how large is this place?

Shamshiel, the angel appointed as prince of Paradise, the figure whose entire authority and purpose was the administration of this place, gave an answer that stopped Moses completely. The place can neither be measured, fathomed, nor numbered. Not I do not know the dimensions. Not the dimensions are too large to state. The dimensions cannot be measured. Paradise resists the instruments of measurement because it was not built on the principles that make measurement possible.

The greatest prophet asked for a map, and the angel who lived there said: there is no map. This is the place that exceeds cartography.

Nuriel Led Him Further In

The tour did not stop at the throne room. Moses was led deeper into the realms of the upper world. Nuriel, another angel of the heavenly realms, brought him further, through levels of light and presence that the tradition preserves in specific names without being able to fully describe what distinguished one level from another.

What the descriptions preserve is the layering. Paradise is not a single destination. It has interior structure, levels of closeness to the divine presence, realms within realms, each one accessible only after what precedes it has been passed through. Moses moved through these levels as a living person, guided by angels who knew the architecture, seeing what most living people never see and fewer still can return from to describe.

Moses Continued to Serve After Death

The tradition that Moses saw Paradise before his death is connected to the tradition that his service did not end at death. Moses, who had served as a shepherd of Israel for forty years in the wilderness, as an intercessor between heaven and the camp at Sinai, as the one who went up and down the mountain more times than anyone could count, continued in that role after he left the world below.

The tour of Paradise was not a farewell. It was an orientation. Moses was not leaving his work behind. He was learning the terrain of the place where his work would continue, standing before seventy golden thrones whose occupants he had helped prepare, hearing from the prince of Paradise that the place exceeded measurement, carrying back into God's presence the knowledge that what had been built by human goodness was larger than any angel could calculate.

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Legends of the Jews 4:189Legends of the Jews

Even MOSES himself couldn't get a straight answer.

The story goes that Moses, in his insatiable quest for knowledge, posed this very question to Shamshiel, the prince of Paradise. As we learn in Legends of the Jews, even Shamshiel couldn't give him a definitive answer about its size. He confessed that Paradise can "neither be measured nor fathomed nor numbered." Mind-boggling. The sheer scale is beyond human comprehension, perhaps even beyond angelic comprehension.

Shamshiel did offer Moses a tantalizing peek into the architecture of the afterlife. He described the thrones, and oh, what thrones they are! Forget your garden-variety gilded chairs. These thrones are crafted from the most exquisite materials imaginable.

Some are silver, some gold, others shimmering with precious stones, pearls, rubies, and carbuncles. Each material, it seems, corresponds to a different virtue or accomplishment. Shamshiel breaks it down for Moses, revealing that the pearl thrones are reserved for the scholars, those dedicated souls who immerse themselves in the Torah, Jewish sacred law, day and night, purely for the love of it – Torah lishmah. The thrones made of precious stones await the pious, the rubies gleam for the just, the gold shines for repentant sinners, and the silver is bestowed upon righteous proselytes.

And the hierarchy doesn't stop there! "The greatest of them all," Shamshiel continues, "is the throne of Abraham." Makes sense. Then come the thrones of Isaac and Jacob, followed by the prophets, the righteous ones, and the righteous. Each throne's size and splendor reflect the individual's worth, rank, and the good deeds they accumulated during their earthly existence. It's like a celestial meritocracy, where your actions speak louder than… well, louder than anything!

But here's where the story takes a truly unexpected turn. Moses, ever the inquisitive one, asks about a throne made of copper. Copper? Amongst all this gold and jewels? What's that doing there?

Shamshiel's answer is both surprising and deeply comforting: "For the sinner that has a pious son." Legends of the Jews tells us that through the merits of his son, this imperfect soul receives a share in Paradise.

Isn't that incredible? The idea that even in the face of our own failings, the good deeds of our children can elevate us. It highlights the powerful interconnectedness of generations and the enduring impact of righteous living. It's a reminder that even when we stumble, hope remains, not just for ourselves, but for the legacy we leave behind.

So, what does this glimpse into Paradise tell us? Perhaps it's not just about the rewards that await us, but about the choices we make here and now. Maybe the thrones aren't just waiting for us; maybe we’re building them, stone by stone, pearl by pearl, with every act of kindness, every moment of devotion, and every effort to live a more righteous life. And maybe, just maybe, those efforts extend beyond ourselves, touching the lives of our loved ones and echoing through eternity.

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Legends of the Jews 4:187Legends of the Jews

As retold by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, Moses didn't just peek into the afterlife; he took a guided tour. And when he finally emerged from that harrowing experience, he did what any of us would do – he prayed.

"May it be Thy will, O Lord my God and God of my fathers," he pleaded, "to save me and the people of Israel from the places I have seen in hell." Imagine the weight of those words, the images seared into his mind!

God's response is stark, unwavering. "Moses," He said, "before Me there is no respecting of persons and no taking of gifts. Whoever doeth good deeds entereth Paradise, and he that doeth evil must go to hell." A sobering reminder that ultimate justice isn't swayed by status or plea bargains. Our actions have consequences.

So, what about the other side? What about Paradise?

At God's command, the angel Gabriel then led Moses toward the celestial gates. Picture this: Moses, fresh from the horrors of hell, now approaching the radiant promise of Paradise.

But even entry into Paradise wasn’t simple. As he approached, two angels greeted him, their words a gentle rebuke: "Thy time is not yet arrived to leave the world." It wasn’t his time, not yet. Moses, ever the pragmatist, simply explained, "What ye say is true, but I have come to see the reward of the pious in Paradise." He wanted to glimpse the hope, the ultimate reward for a life well-lived.

And what was their response? They extolled him. "Hail, Moses, servant of God! Hail, Moses, born of woman, that hast been found worthy to ascend to the seven heavens! Hail to the nation to which thou belongest!" A powerful moment of recognition, of acknowledging Moses' unique role and the special connection he had to the people of Israel. Moses, the man who spoke face-to-face with God, the leader who guided a nation out of slavery, was hailed not just for his own merits, but for his connection to something larger than himself. His legacy, his destiny, intertwined with the fate of an entire people.

What does this brief glimpse into the afterlife tell us? Perhaps it's a reminder that our choices matter, that justice is absolute, and that even in the face of terrifying darkness, there is always the promise of light. And maybe, just maybe, it suggests that our individual stories are always part of something bigger, a weaving together by faith, destiny, and the enduring spirit of a people.

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Legends of the Jews 4:188Legends of the Jews

The Zohar, that foundational text of Jewish mysticism, speaks often of the incredible sights and sounds beyond our world, but this… this is something else.

Ginzberg, in his incredible work Legends of the Jews, paints a vivid picture. Moses isn’t just passing through some garden; he's witnessing a celestial realm. He beholds seventy thrones, each crafted from precious stones and resting on legs of pure gold. Think about the sheer artistry, the dazzling light! And each throne? Guarded by seventy angels.

Then… there’s one throne that dwarfs all the others.

This one isn’t surrounded by seventy angels, but a staggering one hundred and twenty. Can you imagine the radiant power emanating from such a place? This, my friends, is the throne of Abraham.

And here’s where the story takes an even more heartwarming turn. When Abraham sees Moses, when he understands who he is and why he’s visiting Paradise, he doesn't offer some regal greeting, but bursts into praise: "Praise ye the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endureth forever!" It’s such a human moment, even in this otherworldly setting. Even in Paradise, even surrounded by such splendor, the recognition of goodness and mercy is the most fitting response. It's a reminder that even in the most extraordinary circumstances, gratitude and praise remain central to our connection with the Divine. It's a beautiful image, isn't it?

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Legends of the Jews 4:166Legends of the Jews

The story goes that during one of his ascensions, Moses got a peek behind the cosmic curtain, so to speak. It wasn’t just fluffy clouds and pearly gates, let me tell you. According to Legends of the Jews, specifically Ginzberg's retelling, Moses encounters the angel Nuriel.

Nuriel isn’t your average cherub. Try to picture this: an angel standing three hundred parasangs high. Now, a parasang is an ancient unit of distance, somewhere between 3 and 4 miles. So, yeah, Nuriel is big.

He's not alone. Nuriel commands a retinue – a divine entourage – of fifty myriads of angels. That’s… a lot. Millions upon millions of angels, all formed from a mind-bending combination of water and fire. Imagine the visual!

The real kicker? All these fiery-watery angels are facing the Shekinah – the divine presence of God – constantly singing praises. It's like the ultimate, eternal choir practice.

So, what’s the deal with all this celestial singing? Metatron, the angel often considered to be the highest-ranking, steps in to explain to Moses. These aren't just random angels belting out tunes. They're the angels in charge of… the weather! Specifically, the clouds, winds, and rains. for a second. The forces of nature, the very elements that shape our world, are governed by these powerful, praising beings. As soon as they carry out God's will – bringing the rain, pushing the winds – they zoom right back to their posts in the second heaven to continue their unending hymn.

It’s a pretty incredible image, isn’t it? A system of divine administration, where even the simplest raindrop is part of a grand, orchestrated plan, fueled by constant adoration of the divine. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it, about the unseen forces at work in our own lives, and the constant, perhaps unheard, song of creation.

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Legends of the Jews 7:64Legends of the Jews

What happens to a leader when they die? Especially a leader like Moses?

We know Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, received the Torah at Sinai, and guided them for forty years through the wilderness. But what about after his death? Does his influence simply vanish? Jewish tradition suggests otherwise.

The Legends of the Jews, drawing from various Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sources, tells us that Moses' activity didn't cease with his passing. Instead, he became one of God's servants in heaven. It's a comforting thought, isn't it? That even in death, a righteous person continues to serve a higher purpose.

Where is Moses buried? The tradition is quite mysterious. God Himself buried Moses in a secret location, a place so hidden that even Moses didn't know where it was! All that's known, apparently, is that an underground passage connects his grave to those of the Patriarchs. Imagine that: a hidden link connecting the greatest figures of our history. And even in death, Moses' body remains as fresh as the day he died. A evidence of his righteousness, perhaps?

But the mourning… that's something else entirely.

When Moses died, a heavenly voice echoed throughout the entire Israelite camp, a camp that, according to this account, stretched twelve miles by twelve miles! The voice cried out, "Woe! Moses is dead. Woe! Moses is dead." Can you imagine the sound? The impact? The Israelites, who had been weeping for thirty days in anticipation of his death, then mourned him for a full three months.

But it wasn't just the Israelites who mourned. God Himself wept for Moses, lamenting, "Who will rise up for Me against the evil-doers? Who will stand up for Me against the workers of iniquity?" It's a powerful image: God, the ultimate power, mourning the loss of a single, righteous human being.

And Metatron, the angel often associated with divine presence, appeared before God and said, "Moses was thine when he lived, and he is Thine in his death." God’s reply? "I weep not for Moses' sake, but for the loss Israel suffered through his death. How often had they angered Me, but he prayed for them and appeased My wrath." Think about the weight of that statement. God isn't grieving for Himself, but for the people who lost their intercessor.

The angels wept with God, asking, "But where shall wisdom be found?" The heavens lamented, "The godly man is perished out of the earth." The earth wept, "And there is none upright among men." Even the stars, planets, sun, and moon wailed, "The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart." It's a cosmic outpouring of grief, a universe mourning the loss of a singular individual.

And finally, God praised Moses' excellence, saying, "Thou hast said of Me, 'The Lord He is God: there is none else,' and therefore shall I say of thee, 'And there arose not a prophet in Israel like unto Moses.'" A beautiful reciprocal acknowledgment of faith and leadership.

What does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that true leadership extends beyond earthly life. That the impact of a righteous person resonates throughout the cosmos. And that even in death, their legacy of faith and service continues to inspire. Perhaps, too, it's a comforting thought for those who mourn – a reminder that those we love are not truly gone, but continue to exist in some form, serving a higher purpose beyond our understanding.

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