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Rabbi Ishmael's Prophecy of Rome and What Comes After

Rabbi Ishmael ascended through the heavenly palaces and descended with a prophecy about Rome, war, and what comes after the last empire falls.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Thursday Morning in the Heavenly Palace
  2. The Three Wars Before the End
  3. What the Heavenly Court Showed Him
  4. The Execution and What It Meant

Thursday Morning in the Heavenly Palace

Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha had stood before the divine throne in a heavenly ascent and returned with knowledge that made the descent dangerous. He knew things he could not unsay. One Thursday morning, word came from Rome that four mighty men of Israel had been seized. He recognized the shape of the moment immediately. This was not ordinary Roman violence. This was the beginning of something the heavenly court had already shown him.

The Heikhalot Rabbati, the great mystical text describing the ascent through the heavenly palaces, places Rabbi Ishmael at the center of its visions. He had traveled through seven palaces guarded by terrifying angelic gatekeepers. He had stood before the throne and asked the questions that others were afraid to ask. When he descended and gathered the other sages, the Thursday morning arrest felt like confirmation of what he had seen above: that heaven was managing the end of Roman dominion, and that the Jewish sages would pay the price before the accounts were settled.

The Three Wars Before the End

The prophecy Rabbi Ishmael left behind in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer describes a sequence of wars that would occur in the end of days. The sons of Ishmael, the tradition says, referring to the descendants of Abraham's first son, would make three wars in the world before the final redemption. One war on the sea. One war on dry land. One war near Jerusalem. The wars would be preceded by signs in the heavens, by a star in the east that burned for seventy days and by the rod of Moses's power appearing in the sky.

The prophecy is not comfortable reading. It does not say the wars are punishments for sin. It presents them as events that must occur, as stages in a sequence the heavenly court has already decreed. Rome, which executed Rabbi Ishmael himself, is not the final empire. It is a stage. The sons of Ishmael come after Rome. And after them, something else entirely, something the tradition describes only in the language of redemption, of gathering, of return.

What the Heavenly Court Showed Him

Rabbi Ishmael's experience in the divine palaces was not mystical decoration. It was investigative. He went up to find out what was happening and why. The Heikhalot texts record that he was given access to the heavenly archives, to the records of decrees that had been sealed against Israel. He saw the names of the martyrs written there. He saw the sequence of empires recorded in advance. He came back knowing that the suffering was not random but was being tracked, that every account would eventually be settled, and that the settlement would not look like anything the empire of the moment could recognize as justice.

This is why the tradition could not separate Rabbi Ishmael the halakhic master from Rabbi Ishmael the mystic. The man who built the thirteen interpretive principles by which the Torah is read, who appears more than any other sage in the Mishnah's legal discussions, was also the man who had stood at the threshold of the seventh palace and received the knowledge of what came next. Both activities were part of the same project: understanding the world as it actually is, not as Rome said it was.

The Execution and What It Meant

When Rome killed Rabbi Ishmael, they were not killing a political rebel. They were killing a man who knew too much. The tradition preserves a story of his face being flayed while still alive because a Roman official wanted to possess his skin, which was said to be extraordinarily beautiful. The angels cried out in heaven. A divine voice asked: shall I destroy the world for this?

The answer came back: no. Not yet. The prophecy was still unfolding. Rome was still in the middle of its allotted time. The martyrdom of Rabbi Ishmael was not the end of anything. It was a payment on a debt that was being tracked, and the tracking continued after his death in the texts that bore his name, in the traditions that kept his vision of the end alive through every generation that Rome still ruled, and through every generation after Rome had fallen and the next empire had risen in its place.


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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.

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.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 30:13Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Specifically, Chapter 30 dives into a prophecy attributed to Rabbi Ishmael concerning the descendants of Ishmael, the son of Abraham. What does it say? Buckle up.

Rabbi Ishmael foretells three future wars of tribulation waged by the sons of Ishmael. He draws upon the prophet Isaiah (21:15) to illustrate this: "For they fled away from the swords." According to this reading, the word "swords" (cherev in Hebrew) is interpreted as signifying wars. And not just one war, but three distinct conflicts, each with its own unique characteristic.

The first, he says, will be "in the forest of Arabia," referencing the phrase "from the drawn sword" in Isaiah. Imagine the clash of armies amidst the dense foliage, a struggle for dominance in the heart of the desert.

The second war, according to Rabbi Ishmael's interpretation, will occur "on the sea," alluded to by the phrase "from the bent bow." Think naval battles, waves crashing against ships as nations vie for control of the waterways.

But it's the third war that is described as the most grievous of all. This one, he says, will take place "in the great city which is in Rome," and it will be more terrible than the previous two, as it is written, "And from the grievousness of the war."

Now, why Rome? What makes this final conflict so significant? The text doesn't explicitly say, but Rome, throughout much of Jewish history, was often seen as a symbol of worldly power, of empire, and sometimes, of oppression. A war centered there, in this view, carries a particular weight.

Here's where it gets really interesting. It is from the aftermath of this third, most terrible war, that "the Son of David shall flourish." The Messiah. He will witness the destruction wrought by these conflicts, the text says, and then he will emerge, coming to the land of Israel, as it is said in Isaiah (63:1): "Who is this that cometh from Edom, with crimsoned garments from Bozrah? this that is glorious in his apparel, marching in the greatness of his strength? I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save."

Edom, often interpreted as Rome and later oppressive empires in some Jewish traditions, and Bozrah, a city associated with judgment, paint a powerful picture. The Messiah, clothed in triumph, arriving to bring salvation after a period of intense turmoil.

What are we to make of this? Is this a literal prophecy? An allegorical depiction of the struggles between nations and the ultimate triumph of good? A message of hope amidst chaos? The Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, like many ancient texts, offers a lens through which to view the present and contemplate the future, inviting us to consider our place in the unfolding story of humanity.

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Legends of the Jews, V. Abraham, Ishmael Cast OffLegends of the Jews

As Isaac grew, tensions flared between the two half-brothers over inheritance rights. Ishmael, the elder, believed he deserved a double portion, while Isaac should receive only one. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Ishmael, skilled with a bow and arrow, would aim his missiles at Isaac, claiming it was just a jest. But Sarah saw through the "jesting."

Sarah, deeply concerned about the future, insisted that Abraham give everything to Isaac, ensuring no disputes would arise after his death. "Ishmael," she declared, "is not worthy of being heir with my son." And, as if that weren't enough, she demanded Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away, severing all ties between them and Isaac, both in this world and the world to come.

Of all the trials Abraham faced, this was the most agonizing. The thought of separating from his son tore at his heart. But that very night, God appeared to him. "Abraham," He said, "knowest thou not that Sarah was appointed to be thy wife from her mother's womb? She is thy companion and the wife of thy youth… What Sarah spoke unto thee was naught but truth." (Legends of the Jews)

The next morning, Abraham rose early, gave Hagar a get, a bill of divorcement, and sent her and Ishmael away. To publicly mark her status, he bound a rope around her waist, signifying she was a bondwoman.

As they journeyed, Sarah's "evil eye," as the text puts it, made Ishmael sick with a fever. Hagar, carrying him, depleted the water Abraham had provided. Desperate, not wanting to witness her son's death, she cast him under a willow bush. The Legends of the Jews specifies this was the very same spot where angels had once appeared to Hagar, promising her a son.

In her anguish, she cried out to God, "Yesterday Thou didst say to me, I will greatly multiply thy seed… and to-day my son dies of thirst!" But Ishmael, too, cried out to God. And it was his prayer, coupled with the merits of Abraham, that brought them salvation.

However, even as Ishmael prayed, the angels argued against him before God. "Wilt Thou cause a well of water to spring up for him whose descendants will let Thy children of Israel perish with thirst?" they asked. God, in his infinite wisdom, responded, "What is Ishmael at this moment, righteous or wicked?" When the angels conceded that he was righteous, God declared, "I treat man according to his deserts at each moment." (Legends of the Jews)

According to the Legends of the Jews, Ishmael prayed, "O Lord of the world! If it be Thy will that I shall perish, then let me die in some other way, not by thirst, for the tortures of thirst are great beyond all others." (Legends of the Jews)

But Hagar, perhaps lacking the same faith, turned to the idols of her youth. It was Ishmael's prayer that was answered. God commanded Miriam's well, a miraculous well created in the twilight of the sixth day of creation, to spring forth and provide water.

Yet, even after this miracle, Hagar's faith remained weak. She refilled the bottle, fearing the water would run out again. This reminds me of the saying, "Throw the stick into the air as thou wilt, it will always land on its point." Hagar, having come from Egypt, returned there with her son, seeking a wife for him.

It’s a poignant tale of faith, doubt, and the enduring bond between a mother and her son. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How much does our past shape our future, and what role does faith play in overcoming life's most challenging trials?

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