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Seth Built Two Pillars to Keep the Stars Alive

Seth's descendants learned fire and flood were coming. They carved their star charts on two pillars, one brick for the fire, one stone for the water.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Reunion After Grief
  2. Seth Who Was Born Perfect
  3. The Prophecy About Catastrophe
  4. Two Pillars, Two Materials

The Reunion After Grief

Adam and Eve did not find each other easily after Abel died. Grief does not only take what it takes directly. It takes the capacity to be present to what remains. Eve lost Abel. She also lost Adam, or he lost himself, withdrawing into the kind of silence that grief builds around a man and that no one from outside can easily enter. They separated. The tradition says the separation lasted a hundred and thirty years.

Then Adam returned to his wife. The Zohar says their love came back stronger than it had been before the murder, that Adam carried Eve in his thoughts continuously, that the reunion was complete. From that completeness came Seth.

Seth Who Was Born Perfect

The Book of Jasher says he was born in the likeness and image of Adam, which is the same phrase Genesis uses for Adam being in the likeness of God. The implication ran through later commentary like a river: Seth was the heir of the original image, the restoration of what Cain's violence had disrupted. He was also, in the tradition's telling, the ancestor of the Messiah. That line ran from Seth through Noah, and from Noah through the patriarchs toward the redemption that had not yet arrived. Every generation of Seth's descendants carried that charge, which meant they carried the responsibility of keeping the knowledge alive that redemption would eventually require.

The Prophecy About Catastrophe

Seth's descendants learned from Adam that the world was going to be destroyed twice. First by fire, then by flood. The tradition is precise about this sequence: God would not simply allow human wickedness to accumulate until everything collapsed at once. There would be two interventions, two scourings, two moments when the accumulated knowledge of humanity faced the possibility of total erasure.

The children of Seth studied the stars. They had learned from Enoch, from Adam, from the tradition that flowed back to the first week of creation, when God had made the lights of heaven and declared them for signs and seasons and years. They had mapped the constellations. They understood the movements of the planets and the meaning of those movements for human life below. This knowledge could not be allowed to disappear into the fire and the water.

Two Pillars, Two Materials

They built two pillars. One was brick, because brick survives fire. One was stone, because stone survives water. They inscribed both pillars with everything they had learned: the astronomical observations, the celestial calendar, the system for reckoning seasons and festivals, the full map of what the heavens contained and how it moved. Then they left both pillars in their respective places and waited for the catastrophes to arrive.

The flood came first. The stone pillar survived it. When Noah's waters receded and human civilization began again from the eight who had come through, the inscriptions were there to be read. The knowledge of the stars had not been lost. Seth's children had calculated the shape of the disasters before the disasters arrived and had solved the problem of survival with the most basic materials available: different kinds of stone, carrying the same words.


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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.

Legends of the Jews, III. The Ten Generations, The Descendants Of CainLegends of the Jews

He wasn't just wandering aimlessly, marked by God. According to the Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, Cain was acutely aware of the divine decree that his blood-guiltiness would come back to haunt him in the seventh generation.

So, what did he do? He tried to build a legacy, literally. He became a city-builder, naming the first city Enoch, after his son. It was with Enoch's birth that Cain finally felt a glimmer of peace. But don't think this was some act of repentance. Ginzberg emphasizes that the city-building was a "godless deed," a way to control his family, trapping them within walled cities.

It wasn't just the city-building. The Legends of the Jews paints a picture of Cain as a man who embraced wickedness. He amassed wealth through violence and encouraged others to do the same. He even gets the dubious credit for inventing weights and measures, transforming a simple world into one of "cunning craftiness." As we find in Midrash Rabbah, he was no role model.

What about that seventh generation curse? It catches up with him in a truly bizarre way, involving his great-grandson Lamech. Lamech, you see, was blind. He relied on his young son to guide him while hunting. One day, the boy spots something horned in the distance, mistaking it for an animal. Lamech shoots, and… well, it's not an animal. It's Cain himself, still bearing the mark God gave him.

Can you imagine the horror? Lamech, realizing he's killed his ancestor, strikes his hands together in despair, accidentally killing his own son in the process! Misfortune piles upon misfortune as, according to the legend, the earth opens up and swallows four generations of Cain's line: Enoch, Irad, Mehujael, and Methushael.

Talk about a bad day.

Left alone, Lamech's wives eventually find him and, horrified by his actions and the looming curse, want nothing to do with him. Lamech pleads his case, arguing that if Cain, who committed murder intentionally, was only punished in the seventh generation, then he, who killed unintentionally, should be spared for seventy-seven generations. According to the legend, Lamech and his wives then sought out Adam himself who, after hearing both sides, ruled in Lamech's favor.

The story doesn't end there, though. The narrative then shifts to the corruption of Lamech's time, particularly the practice of taking two wives – one for procreation, the other for pleasure, rendered sterile. The men showered attention on the barren wives, while the others lived lives of sorrow.

Lamech's wives, Adah and Zillah, each bore him two children. Adah had Jabal and Jubal. Zillah had Tubal-cain and Naamah.

Jabal is credited with building temples to idols, and Jubal with inventing the music played within them. Tubal-cain, whose name sounds similar to Cain for a reason, is portrayed as completing Cain's wicked work. While Cain committed murder, Tubal-cain, being the first to work with iron and copper, forged the weapons used in war, instruments of death. And Naamah, "the lovely," used her cymbals to summon worshippers to idols.

So, what do we take away from this wild ride through the generations of Cain? It's a cautionary tale, isn't it? A reminder that actions, both intentional and unintentional, have consequences. And perhaps, a meditation on how easily a legacy can be twisted, how quickly innovation can become destruction.

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Legends of the Jews 3:7Legends of the Jews

That feeling, that ancestral weight, is something Jewish tradition understands deeply. And it all starts with Seth.

After the tragic story of Cain and Abel, and after a period of separation, Adam and Eve reunited. The Zohar tells us that their love was even stronger than before, a love so profound that Adam carried Eve in his thoughts constantly. From this renewed love came Seth, a figure of immense importance.

Jewish tradition sees Seth as more than just another son. He's the ancestor of the Messiah, the one who would ultimately redeem the world. But even more than that, certain traditions held he was born without needing circumcision, one of thirteen people to be born that way.

There's something else. The verse reads, Adam begot Seth "in his likeness and image." That might sound like flowery language, but it's incredibly significant. See, Cain wasn't in Adam's likeness. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Seth, in a very real sense, became the father of the human race, especially the father of the pious. While the depraved and godless, unfortunately, descended from Cain. Two lineages, stemming from the same source, but diverging into radically different paths. One, marked by violence and wickedness. The other, by virtue and wisdom.

Josephus, in his Antiquities of the Jews, paints a stark picture of Cain's descendants. They were, to put it mildly, awful. Intolerable in war, quick to rob, and eager to commit injustice for personal gain. It's a grim picture, a world spiraling downwards.

But then there's Seth. He grew into a virtuous man, a role model for his own children. They, in turn, followed in his footsteps, living together in harmony and prosperity. They were inventors, too, particularly skilled in understanding the heavenly bodies. They even invented a special kind of wisdom, concerned with the stars and their order. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, they wanted to make sure their discoveries weren't lost to time.

So, what did they do? They built two pillars. One of brick, the other of stone. They inscribed their knowledge on both, anticipating that the world would be destroyed, at one time by fire, and at another by water. That way, if one pillar was destroyed, the other would survive, preserving their wisdom for future generations.

It's a powerful image, isn't it? A evidence of human ingenuity and a deep-seated hope for the future, even in the face of potential catastrophe. It speaks to the enduring human desire to leave a mark, to contribute something meaningful to the world.

And perhaps, that's the real legacy of Seth. Not just as the ancestor of the Messiah, but as a symbol of hope, of virtue, and of the enduring power of knowledge. What kind of pillar are we building? What legacy are we leaving for those who come after us? It's a question worth pondering, don't you think?

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Jasher 2Book of Jasher

The Book of Jasher, an ancient text referenced in the Bible itself (Joshua 10:13 and (2 Samuel 1:1)8), offers some pretty fascinating, and sometimes unsettling, glimpses..

The chapter opens with a sense of renewal. After the tragedy of Abel's death, Adam and Eve have another son, Seth. It's in the hundred and thirtieth year of Adam's life, according to Jasher, when Seth is born, "in his likeness and in his image." Eve proclaims, "Because God has appointed me another seed in the place of Abel, for Cain has slain him."

Seth, in turn, has a son named Enosh. We read that "in that time the sons of men began to multiply, and to afflict their souls and hearts by transgressing and rebelling against God." It wasn't just a few bad apples; the text emphasizes that the "sons of men continued to rebel."

In Jasher, this rebellion manifested in idol worship. "And the sons of men went and they served other gods, and they forgot the Lord who had created them in the earth." They crafted images of brass, iron, wood, and stone, bowing down to them. It's a stark picture of humanity straying from its original connection with the Divine.

The consequences were severe. The Lord brought forth a devastating flood, not the great deluge we typically associate with Noah, but a localized one caused by the river Gihon overflowing. This earlier flood destroyed a third of the earth! Yet, even this catastrophe wasn't enough to turn people from their wicked ways. "Notwithstanding this," Jasher tells us, "the sons of men did not turn from their evil ways."

Things get even worse. The land itself seems to suffer. "In those days there was neither sowing nor reaping in the earth; and there was no food for the sons of men and the famine was very great in those days." The seeds they sowed yielded only thorns and thistles, a grim echo of the curse placed upon the earth after Adam's sin.

Amidst this widespread corruption, a glimmer of hope appears in the form of Cainan, the son of Enosh. At forty years old, he becomes wise and knowledgeable, reigning over all the sons of men and leading them toward wisdom. Jasher paints him as a kind of prophet, someone who "knew by his wisdom that God would destroy the sons of men for having sinned upon earth, and that the Lord would in the latter days bring upon them the waters of the flood." He even writes down prophecies on stone tablets and places them in his treasures! What were these prophecies? The text doesn't say exactly, but the implication is clear: he foresaw the coming destruction.

Cainan manages to turn some people back to the service of God. But the overall picture remains bleak, and soon we're introduced to another key figure: Lamech. He marries two daughters of Cainan, Adah and Zillah. The story then veers into some pretty disturbing territory.

We learn that people began to defy God's commandment to "be fruitful and multiply." Some men, wanting their wives to maintain their figures, forced them to drink potions that would make them barren. The text is particularly harsh on this practice: "And the child-bearing women appeared abominable in the sight of their husbands as widows, whilst their husbands lived, for to the barren ones only they were attached."

Zillah, initially barren, eventually gives birth to Tubal Cain. And here, the narrative takes a truly shocking turn.

Lamech, now old and blind, is led by his son Tubal Cain into the field. Mistaking Cain (yes, that Cain, Adam's son!) for an animal, Tubal Cain directs Lamech to shoot him with an arrow. Lamech does so, killing Cain. When they discover their mistake, Lamech is overcome with grief and, in his distress, accidentally kills Tubal Cain as well!

The wives of Lamech, horrified by his actions, turn against him. They separate from him and refuse to listen to his pleas. Lamech then tries to convince them it was an accident and they eventually return to him, with the advice of their father Adam, though they bear no more children.

The chapter concludes with a brief mention of Mahlallel, the son of Cainan, and his son Jared, who fathers Enoch. And so, the story continues, leading us closer to the time of the great flood and the story of Noah.

What are we to make of all this? The Book of Jasher's Chapter 2 presents a world spiraling out of control, a world where humanity has lost its way and faces dire consequences. It's a cautionary tale about the dangers of straying from one's spiritual path and the importance of remembering our connection to something greater than ourselves. It also raises fascinating questions about free will, divine judgment, and the enduring power of prophecy.

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