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Samael and Lilith Born as One and Torn by Jealousy

Samael and Lilith are generated back to back at creation, bound together but pulled apart by jealousy, twin powers of darkness never fully joined.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Mirror of the First Pair
  2. Samael's Position
  3. What Lilith Wanted
  4. Why Lilith Fled When She Saw Eve

The Mirror of the First Pair

When God made Adam and Eve, the tradition says they were first formed as a single being, back to back, joined at the spine. It took a second act of creation to separate them into two distinct persons. What the Kabbalists discovered, reading that same story from the other side, was that the dark pair had been made the same way.

Samael and Lilith were generated simultaneously. Not two beings who found each other, but one composite thing that was separated before it was ever fully formed. They emerged back to back, in the image of the Adam-Eve shape, the way one end of a flame resembles another flame without being it. The tradition preserved by Jacob ben Jacob ha-Kohen, the thirteenth-century Kabbalist, is unambiguous on this point: they were born as one and have never stopped trying to become one again.

Samael's Position

Samael is not simply the angel of death, though that is his most familiar office. He is the prince of the accusers, the figure who charges human beings before the divine throne, who prosecutes rather than defends, who finds the flaw in every soul. In the language of Kabbalistic cosmology, he stands at the head of the forces arrayed against holiness, the mirror image of the divine hierarchy on the other side.

He had one consort who matched his own power: Lilith, the great one, whose appetite for newborns and whose dominion over certain hours of the night gave her an authority parallel to his own. But Samael's desire was not only for Lilith. He wanted Naamah, another figure in the demonic hierarchy, and his turning toward Naamah made Lilith burn with a jealousy she could not contain.

What Lilith Wanted

On Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, Lilith did not rest. The tradition in Pardes Rimmonim, the sixteenth-century Kabbalistic compendium by Moses Cordovero, names two Liliths: one the consort of Samael and one the consort of Ashmedai, king of the demons. On Yom Kippur, they went out into the world seeking husbands, drawing mortal men away from their prayers and their families and their fasting.

The dynamic between them maps onto the jealousy born at the moment of their creation. Lilith wanted Samael exclusively. Samael reached for multiple consorts. Lilith reached outward in response, toward mortal men, toward domination of a different kind, creating a chain of desire and jealousy and reaching that neither side could break.

Why Lilith Fled When She Saw Eve

Before any of the later jealousy, there was the encounter in the garden. Lilith was already present when God made Adam. She circled him, watching, claiming a prior right. Then she saw what was attached to Adam's back: Eve, still joined to him, not yet separated, a figure whose reality was different from anything Lilith had anticipated.

Some versions say Eve appeared as a terrifying apparition, a divine presence so concentrated that Lilith's own power was nothing beside it. The Zohar describes Lilith fleeing the moment she laid eyes on this figure, fleeing to the cities of the sea and the coasts, to places where she could establish her own domain away from the sight of what Eve was. It was not fear of Adam that drove her away. It was the recognition of something she could not overpower.

The jealousy that would define her relationship with Samael was only a later manifestation of the same wound: she had seen the divine image in Eve and had fled from it, and she had never stopped trying to reclaim through her own means what she had run from at the beginning.

SamaelLilithKabbalahDemonsSitra AhraCreationMysticismYetzer Hara
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From the tradition

Sources

3 sources

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

Kabbalot Rabbi Ya'akov ve-Rabbi Yitzhak by Jacob ben Jacob ha-KohenKabbalistic Literature

A fascinating, and frankly unsettling, corner of Jewish mystical tradition: the story of Samael (the angel of death) and Lilith.

It's a story of intertwined destinies, jealousy, and the birth of something truly terrifying. Kabbalot Rabbi Ya'akov ve-Rabbi Yitzhak, written by Jacob ben Jacob ha-Kohen (a priest), tells us that Samael and Lilith weren’t created separately, but born together, much like Adam and Eve were originally formed as one being.

Lilith, in this version, isn't solely paired with Samael. Ashmedai, the king of demons, also has a claim on her, specifically Lilith the Younger. This Lilith is described as a stunning beauty from the head down to the waist, but below? Burning fire. Can you picture that image? It's a potent symbol of uncontrolled passion and destructive power.

Picture the scene: Samael becomes intensely jealous of Ashmedai because of this younger Lilith. And this, we're told, pleases Lilith immensely! Why? Because she thrives on inciting conflict, especially the conflict between herself and her “mother,” perhaps the original Lilith or another manifestation of the feminine divine. It’s a twisted, complex web of relationships, fueled by envy and a desire for chaos.

From the union of Ashmedai and Lilith the Younger, a monstrous prince is born in heaven: Alefpeneash. He rules over eighty thousand destructive demons, and his face burns with pure rage. We’re told that had he been created whole, without some form of divine intervention holding him back, the world would have been destroyed in an instant. The sheer potential for annihilation concentrated in this one being.

The text goes on to explain that Samael (who, remember, is also considered one of the names of Satan) and Lilith represent the negative, or dark, male and female sides of the Sitra Ahra (סִטְרָא אָחְרָא), the "Other Side." They're like an evil mirror image of God and the Shekhinah (שְׁכִינָה), the divine feminine presence. So intertwined are they that, as we mentioned earlier, they're compared to Adam and Eve being created back-to-back.

This isn't just a bizarre story for its own sake. It's a powerful metaphor for the forces of chaos and destruction that exist alongside creation and order. It’s a reminder that even within the divine realm, there's a shadow side, a potential for imbalance and negativity. The tale of Samael and Lilith, and their monstrous offspring, challenges us to confront these darker aspects of existence and to strive for balance and harmony in our own lives. It urges us to recognize the potential for destruction, both within ourselves and in the world around us, and to choose a path of light and creation instead.

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Pardes Rimmonim 186dPardes Rimonim

Some traditions suggest there isn't just one Lilith, but two!

It's Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, a day of atonement and intense prayer for the Jewish people. But, according to some Kabbalistic traditions, there's a cosmic drama unfolding simultaneously. the Pardes Rimmonim tells us that two Liliths exist: One is the spouse of Samael, the often-dark angel, and the other is the spouse of Ashmedai, the king of demons.

What do these two Liliths do on Yom Kippur? They venture out into the desert, letting loose with ear-splitting screeches! And when they meet, oh boy, do they clash! According to Kabbalot in Mada’ei ha-Yahadut, they quarrel fiercely, their voices escalating until they reach the heavens, and their clamor shakes the very earth.

Why all the noise and fighting? It might seem chaotic, but there's a divine purpose at play. As we find in myth, God arranges this desert showdown so that these two Liliths are too busy with each other to accuse Israel while they are deep in prayer on Yom Kippur. It's like a celestial distraction, ensuring the people can connect with God without demonic interference.

Some Kabbalistic texts even give them different names: Grandmother Lilith the Great and Little Lilith. This idea of two Liliths springs from separate traditions, one linking her to Samael and the other to Ashmedai. After all, according to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, one of Lilith's “specialties” is to distract men with impure thoughts while they are at prayer. This way, God makes sure Lilith cannot do just that on Yom Kippur by sending the two Liliths out into the desert, where they screech and struggle with each other.

This myth of the two Liliths being sent into the desert on Yom Kippur has parallels with another ancient ritual: the scapegoat. Remember the scapegoat from Leviticus? (Lev. 16:20-22). It was sent out into the wilderness to Azazel, a male demon, carrying the sins of the people. In this version, the male demon is replaced with a female demon, Lilith.

It reminds us of other dualistic concepts in Jewish thought, like the two Messiahs – Messiah ben Joseph and Messiah ben David.

Perhaps this tale of the two Liliths is a reminder that even within the shadows, there can be a divine plan at work. Maybe the internal struggles we face, the conflicting voices within ourselves, can sometimes serve a higher purpose, preventing us from succumbing to even greater distractions. What do you think?

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Zohar 1:19b, 3:19aZohar

I'm talking about Lilith.

The tales surrounding Lilith are wild and varied, and one particular story, found woven within the mystical threads of the Zohar (1:19b), paints a fascinating picture of her encounter with Adam... and a rather unusual Eve.

God creates Adam, but it's not quite the Adam The familiar version gives us. According to this tradition, Eve wasn't yet a separate being. Instead, she was attached to Adam's back! Some accounts go even further, suggesting she wasn't fully "real" yet, merely an apparition, a vision of perfect beauty "like that of the realms above." It's a truly striking image, isn't it? A being both male and female, whole and yet… incomplete. This idea seems to stem from the verse in (Genesis 1:27): "In the image of God He created him, male and female He created them."

Enter Lilith. She approaches Adam, perhaps with the intention of seduction, thinking he's alone. But then, she sees Eve. Not a fully formed woman standing beside him, but this… image attached to his back.

What happens next? Lilith flees.

But why? Was she simply intimidated by the fact that Adam wasn't alone? Or was it something more? The Zohar suggests that Eve’s beauty, being the image of God (tzelem in Hebrew), far surpassed Lilith’s own. It’s as if she recognized a divine perfection she couldn't compete with. Gershom Scholem, a renowned scholar of Kabbalah, even proposed that tzelem signifies a kind of astral body, adding another layer of mystique to Eve’s ethereal form.

So, where does Lilith run? According to this story, she flees to the cherubim, the angelic beings who guard the gates of the Garden of Eden, as described in (Genesis 3:24). Why she sought them out remains a mystery. Perhaps she desired a human body herself, or perhaps she thought she could somehow gain entry into the Garden. Whatever her intentions, the cherubim turn her away.

And then, God steps in. He sends Lilith to the depths of the Cities of the Sea. There she remains, exiled, until Adam and Eve commit their fateful sin. With their transgression, God frees Lilith from her watery prison, allowing her to roam the world. She returns to the cherubim, lingering near the fiery, ever-turning sword that guards the way to the Tree of Life. She's close, but still shut out.

The story doesn't end there. Some say she still bides her time, emerging when the moon wanes, seeking revenge on the children of Eve. But others believe God has exiled her again, to the Cities of the Sea, until the prophesied destruction of Rome. Only then, they say, will God bring Lilith from the depths and settle her in Rome's desolate ruins.

The Zohar (3:19a) offers another perspective, describing Eve as being fastened to Adam's side when God breathes the breath of life into him. This act infuses his body with a living soul. Here, the female, still connected to the male, almost feels like what Carl Jung called the anima – the feminine side of a man that he must integrate to achieve wholeness. Eventually, however, God separates them, "preparing" Eve as an independent person, perhaps transforming her from image to living being, or, as some midrashim (rabbinic interpretive commentary) suggest, preparing her as a bride for Adam (Gen. 2:22).

Kabbalistic thought offers a broader understanding, viewing Lilith not just as a demoness but as the embodiment of the Sitra Ahra, "the Other Side," the realm of darkness and demonic power. Eve, in contrast, represents the world of holiness.

What are we to make of this strange and evocative tale? It's a reminder that the stories we think we know often have hidden depths, filled with complex characters and challenging ideas. The story of Lilith's flight from the apparition of Eve forces us to consider the nature of creation, the meaning of image, and the eternal struggle between light and shadow within ourselves. It reminds us that even in paradise, there's always more than one story unfolding.

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