5 min read

Rabbi Ishmael Crossed Heaven and Came Back with a Warning

When Rome seized four sages and sentenced them to death, Rabbi Ishmael ascended through the heavens to find out whether the decree could be reversed.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The News from Rome
  2. The Preparation and the Passage
  3. Before the Throne of Glory
  4. The Larger Story the Ascent Was Part Of

The News from Rome

It was a Thursday. Rabbi Ishmael remembered the day precisely. A messenger arrived with news that four men from among the most prominent sages of Israel had been seized by Rome, including Rabbi Shimon ben Gamaliel and Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha himself. The ransom being demanded was staggering: eight thousand students from Jerusalem. Who would be selected? Who would be sacrificed? The question was impossible and the silence it produced in the community was the kind of silence that means everyone is calculating the same terrible arithmetic.

Rabbi Ishmael, facing his own arrest and execution, did what the tradition says the masters of the Heikhalot had learned to do when human power offered no solution. He ascended.

The Preparation and the Passage

The ascent required preparation that was not symbolic. Fellow mystics brought a cloth soaked in myrrh, spikenard, and balsam, precious and potent ingredients assembled under conditions of ritual purity, and placed it before Rabbi Ishmael. He entered a state of deep concentration under the guidance of Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakkanah. The journey through the heavenly palaces required specific knowledge: the names of the gatekeepers at each level, the seals that granted passage, the protocols without which the ascending soul could be destroyed before reaching the next level.

Heikhalot Rabbati, the great collection of Jewish mystical texts describing these ascents, compiled in late antique Palestine, is precise about the structure of the journey. Each palace had its own character. The first levels held beings that were frightening in ways the human body instinctively recognized as danger. The higher levels held beings whose nature was so far beyond human experience that the terror was of a different kind entirely, not physical threat but ontological dissolution, the sense of the self becoming inadequate to what it was perceiving.

Before the Throne of Glory

Rabbi Ishmael reached the throne. He stood before it and received a revelation that Heikhalot Rabbati records without giving its full content directly, presenting instead the aftermath: when Rabbi Ishmael returned and shared what he had seen with his colleagues, Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakkanah and the Patriarch himself declared a day of feasting and rejoicing. Whatever had been revealed was understood as good news at the cosmic level even if the earthly situation remained dangerous.

The tradition preserved around Rabbi Ishmael's ascent includes a detail about his origins that the rabbis read as explanation for why he had been chosen to make this journey at all. His parents had longed for a child for many years. His father, trying to break the barren spell, gave his wife instructions: after visiting the mikveh, if anything unpleasant crossed her path, she was to re-immerse before coming home. A black dog crossed her path repeatedly, each time sending her back to immerse again. She re-immersed the required number of times and the child who was born from that night was, the tradition says, so beautiful that people assumed he resembled an angel. The beauty was read as preparation: someone who would eventually stand before the throne of glory needed to bear the mark of that destination from his first appearance in the world.

The Larger Story the Ascent Was Part Of

The ascent was embedded in what the tradition called the Legend of the Ten Martyrs. A Roman emperor, having studied the Torah carefully, reached a verse in Exodus: whoever kidnaps a man, whether he sells him or holds him, shall be put to death. The emperor's mind went to the brothers who sold Joseph. Ten of them. None had been executed for it. The ten greatest sages living were summoned to answer for the unpunished crime of their ancestors. No argument could be made that the law did not apply. The decree was issued.

Rabbi Ishmael's ascent, in this context, was not primarily a mystical achievement. It was an emergency appeal. He had gone to the highest jurisdiction available to ask whether the decree could be overturned. The answer the tradition preserves is ambiguous in the way that catastrophic answers always are: what he brought back was sufficient to produce rejoicing among those who understood it, but the martyrdoms happened anyway. Some decrees reach the human world from a level that even ascent cannot reverse.

IshmaelHeavenCreationMysticismMartyrdomAngels
← All myths

From the tradition

Sources

5 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Heikhalot Rabbati 5:5Heikhalot Rabbati

Heikhalot Rabbati turns to Rabbi Ishmael's Day of Dread When Rome Seized Four Sages.

Rabbi Ishmael, a central figure in this tradition, recounts a day of utter dread. "That day was the fifth day of the week," he says, a seemingly ordinary beginning that quickly shatters. News arrives from Rome, and it's devastating. "Four men from among the mighty of Israel have been seized…" Four pillars of the community, including Rabbi Simon ben Gamaliel and Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha, are now in Roman hands. And the ransom demanded is staggering: eight thousand students from Jerusalem. Can you imagine the weight of that decision? Who gets saved?

The text doesn't dwell on the political machinations or the human drama for long. Instead, it plunges us into the mystical realm. Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakkanah, sensing the gravity of the situation, takes immediate action. He initiates a descent to the Merkabah – the divine chariot, a vehicle for mystical ascent. He seeks answers not from earthly authorities, but from the heavens.

Through this ascent, Rabbi Nehunya questions Surya, the Prince of the Presence – a powerful angelic being. And the answer he receives is chilling. It seems a decree has been issued in the heavenly court, targeting ten of Israel's most righteous individuals.

The decree itself is linked to a verse from Exodus (21:16): "And he that stealeth a man and selleth him, he shall surely be put to death." But what does this have to do with the Roman imprisonment of these Rabbis? Surya explains that the heavenly court sees a parallel in the biblical story of Joseph. "The sons of Jacob stole Joseph their brother and sold him," Surya points out. "What shall be done concerning them?"

This is where it gets truly intense. According to this mystical understanding, the sin of Joseph's brothers opened a door, granting authority to Sammael – the "wicked," the genius of Rome, often identified with the Angel of Death. Sammael is given permission to "destroy ten of the mighty" in atonement for the actions of Jacob's sons.

Think about the implications. A seemingly ancient sin, a transgression from generations past, ripples through time, manifesting in the present suffering of these great Rabbis. It's a stark reminder of the interconnectedness of actions and consequences, and the enduring power of the past.

But the text doesn't end on a note of despair. It also offers a glimmer of hope, a promise of future retribution. "A vengeance to be avenged upon him is laid up against him," Surya reveals, "until the time shall come when 'The Lord shall punish the host of the high ones on high.'" This echoes the words of Isaiah (24:21), promising a future reckoning when even the celestial powers will face judgment. Sammael, and all the "princes of the kingdoms in the height," will ultimately be brought down, like "the goats and sheep of the day of atonement."

What are we to make of such a powerful, and frankly, unsettling story? It’s a reminder that even in the face of tragedy, the Jewish mystical tradition seeks deeper meaning, finding connections between the earthly and the divine, the present and the past. It suggests that even seemingly random acts of injustice are part of a larger cosmic drama, a drama that ultimately promises redemption and justice, even if that justice is delayed. It's a challenging perspective, demanding that we confront the complexities of faith and the enduring questions of good and evil, even when faced with the most difficult of circumstances. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, these stories aren't just about the past; they are meant to illuminate our present, and guide us towards a more just future. And as the Zohar tells us, even in the darkest moments, the light of the divine can still be found, if we only know where to look.

Full source
Heikhalot Rabbati 20:3Heikhalot Rabbati

That feeling, that jolt, might just echo a tale from the mystical heart of Jewish tradition.

Specifically, It involves Rabbi Ishmael, a myrrh-infused cloth, and another prominent sage named Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakkanah.

So, what happened? The verse reads, "They went and did so, and placed the cloth before Rabbi Ishmael." Okay, who are "they"? And what did they do? The "they" are likely fellow mystics, initiates into the secrets of the Heikhalot, and what they did was carry out some kind of ritual action, placing a cloth before Rabbi Ishmael.

This isn't just any cloth. It's been imbued with powerful, fragrant elements: "a bough of myrrh full of oil of spikenard which was laid up in clean balsam." Myrrh, spikenard, balsam… these were precious, potent ingredients in the ancient world, often associated with sacred rituals and healing. Imagine the aroma!

Here's where it gets really wild. This fragrant cloth, saturated with these oils, is then placed "upon the knees of Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakkanah." And the effect? Immediate. He is "therewith caused to be dismissed from before the throne of glory."

Let that sink in. Rabbi Nehunya, a respected figure, was apparently in the presence of the divine, beholding "wonderful loftiness and strange lordship, loftiness of exaltation and lordship of splendor." He was witnessing the awe-inspiring majesty that occurs before God's throne "three times each day, on high, from the time when the world was created and until now, for praise." And then, bam! He's out.

Why? What's going on here? The text doesn't explicitly say, leaving us to wonder. Was Rabbi Nehunya's presence somehow inappropriate? Was he not meant to witness these celestial events? Or was the ritual with the cloth a way to bring him back from that ecstatic state?

Perhaps he had ascended too far in his mystical journey, and the fragrant cloth acted as an anchor, a way to ground him back in the earthly realm. The intense aromas and ritualistic act might have served as a kind of spiritual smelling salt, gently pulling him away from the overwhelming experience before the Throne.

The Heikhalot texts are full of such enigmatic passages. They offer glimpses into a world where the boundaries between the earthly and the divine are blurred, where rituals have tangible effects, and where even the most learned sages can be subject to the mysteries of the cosmos. This short passage from Heikhalot Rabbati reminds us that sometimes, even when we think we’re in the right place, a fragrant cloth can change everything. What might your fragrant cloth be? What pulls you back when you're lost in thought, in prayer, or in a dream?

Full source
Heikhalot Rabbati 7:3Heikhalot Rabbati

The story centers on Rabbi Ishmael. He wasn't just any rabbi; he was a key figure in these mystical circles. He recounts a powerful experience of standing "before the throne of glory" itself. Imagine the weight of that! He received some kind of divine revelation there.

What was this revelation?

Unfortunately, the text doesn't spell it out directly. But whatever Rabbi Ishmael saw and heard was so profound that when he shared it with his colleagues, they were ecstatic. scene for a moment. Rabbi Ishmael returns, bearing witness to something incredible from the very heart of the Divine. His fellow scholars, including Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakkanah, a renowned mystic in his own right, are overcome with joy. They declare it a day of feasting and rejoicing!

It gets even better. The Patriarch himself – a leader of the Jewish community – gets in on the celebration. Overjoyed, he calls for musical instruments. “Bring in before us all manner of musical instruments, and we shall drink wine to their accompaniment!” Can you picture it? Harps and flutes filling the air with music, wine flowing freely, all in response to this divine vision.

And what fuels this intense celebration?

The Patriarch declares that Zoharariel, the "Lord God of Israel," will "surely wreak vengeance and do wonders and wonders of wonders upon the wicked city Rome." This is a bold statement, filled with hope for divine justice and redemption. They believe this vision is a promise of future deliverance.

The name Zoharariel itself is fascinating. It combines Zohar, meaning "splendor" or "radiance," with the suffix "-el," commonly used in angelic names. So, we're talking about a divine power associated with radiant glory.

Now, why Rome? In this period, Rome represented the oppressive empire that held sway over the Jewish people. So, this promise of divine vengeance would have been incredibly powerful and deeply resonant.

The rejoicing isn't just about revenge, though. It’s about the hope for a better future, a future where justice prevails and the Jewish people can live in peace. "We shall exult with joy of harp and flute," the Patriarch proclaims, painting a vivid picture of future celebration.

This short passage from Heikhalot (the heavenly palaces) Rabbati gives us a glimpse into the passionate world of early Jewish mysticism. It shows us a community confronting profound spiritual experiences, finding solace in divine promises, and expressing their faith through joyous celebration, even in the face of oppression. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What visions and prophecies would inspire us to break out the musical instruments today?

Full source
Midrash Eleh EzkerahMidrash Eleh Ezkerah

They say he was so strikingly handsome, he resembled an angel. And his story, well, it begins a bit like a fairy tale.

His parents, had longed for a child for many, many years. His father, desperate to break this barren spell, gave his wife specific instructions. After she visited the mikveh – the ritual bath, a place of purification – she was to be vigilant. If anything unpleasant crossed her path, she had to return and immerse herself again. Only then, perhaps, would she be blessed with a child.

So, she followed his instructions. But each time she emerged from the mikveh, a black dog crossed her path. She returned, she re-immersed, and still, that dog appeared. Imagine her frustration! According to the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) Eleh Ezkerah, this happened not once, not twice, but eight times!

The story takes a turn, a truly wondrous one. God, seeing her dedication and righteousness, was deeply moved. So much so, that He sent the angel Gabriel down to earth.

Gabriel, in this telling, took the form of her husband. He met her at the door of the bathhouse, looking exactly like the man she loved. He led her home, and that night, Rabbi Ishmael was conceived.

And that, my friends, is why they say he was as handsome as an angel – because, in a way, he was. The story suggests that Rabbi Ishmael was the child of a human woman and an angel, with Gabriel taking on the appearance of her husband and conceiving a child with her. It's a pretty incredible explanation for his exceptional beauty, isn’t it?

Now, the union of humans and angels is rare in Jewish lore. Very rare. But it's not unheard of. We find echoes of it in the rabbinic interpretations of Genesis 6, that mysterious passage about the "Sons of God" and the "daughters of men." Many understand those "Sons of God" to be angels. As Tree of Souls (Schwartz) points out, there's an extensive tradition linked to this idea, with numerous stories exploring the implications.

What does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that extraordinary individuals can come from unexpected places, from unions that defy the ordinary. Or maybe, it's a evidence of the power of devotion and the boundless compassion of the Divine. Whatever your interpretation, the story of Rabbi Ishmael's conception certainly gives us something to ponder, doesn’t it?

Full source
Heikhalot Rabbati 1-2Heikhalot Rabbati

Rabbi Ishmael said: What is the distinction of the praises that one would recite who sought to gaze upon the vision of the Chariot, to descend in peace and to ascend in peace?

Greater than all of them is to enter, and to bring oneself in, and to be brought into the chambers of the palace of the firmament, to be set before the throne of His glory, and to know all that is destined to be in the world: whom they bring low and whom they raise up; whom they weaken and whom they strengthen; whom they impoverish and whom they enrich; whom they put to death and whom they keep alive; from whom they take away an inheritance and to whom they give an inheritance; to whom they grant Torah as a possession and to whom they give wisdom.

Greater than all of them is that he gazes upon every deed of the children of men: he knows and recognizes the man who has committed adultery; he knows and recognizes the man who has murdered a soul; he knows and recognizes the man who is suspected of these things. Greater than all of them is that he recognizes every kind of sorcery.

Greater than all of them is that whoever raises his hand against him and strikes him, they clothe him in leprosy and crown him with a bright spot. Greater than all of them is that whoever speaks slander against him, they cast and fling upon him plagues of boils, bruises, and wounds, from which moist sores break out.

Rabbi Ishmael said: Thus they would teach concerning the vision of the Chariot: One who is engaged with the Chariot has no permission to rise to his feet except on account of these three distinctions: before a king, before a high priest, and before a Sanhedrin at a time when there is a Nasi among them; but if there is no Nasi among them, then not even before the Sanhedrin should he rise; and if he did rise, his blood is upon his own head, for he shortens his days and diminishes his years.

Full source