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Solomon Crushed Five Locusts and Lost His Wisdom

Solomon could command birds, letters, and kingdoms, but a request to crush five locusts stripped him of divine spirit and wisdom.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Hoopoe Carried His Threat
  2. Letters Bent Creation
  3. Sonmanites Asked for Almost Nothing
  4. Wisdom Left the Throne
  5. The Small Sin Split a Kingdom

Solomon knew how to darken a queen's sky with birds.

When the hoopoe returned with news of Sheba, the king did not send a caravan first. He summoned scribes, had a letter written, tied it to the bird's wing, and let it fly. A flock rose behind it until morning light itself was blocked over Kitor. The queen looked up from her worship, saw the sky moving, tore her garment, and found Solomon's command fastened to a feather.

That was the kind of king he was.

The Hoopoe Carried His Threat

The letter was not polite curiosity. Solomon told the queen to come, and warned what would happen if she refused. Birds became royal messengers. Air became a road. Distance, which humbles ordinary kings, bent under his wisdom.

The court around him had learned to expect marvels. Creatures served. Demons labored. Foreign rulers heard his name and felt the pull of Jerusalem. The king who judged between mothers and spoke of trees, beasts, birds, creeping things, and fish did not seem easily trapped by anything so crude as appetite.

That made his fall sharper.

A man who can command a hoopoe across kingdoms may still fail in the small chamber where desire asks for one little compromise.

Letters Bent Creation

Solomon's wisdom reached beyond politics.

Sefer Yetzirah stands in the background of the legendary Solomon as a world where letters are not marks only but instruments of formation. Fire, water, and breath stand in balance. Creation itself has grammar. The king associated with such knowledge seems able to touch the hidden joints of things.

That is why the legends are not content to make him merely clever. Solomon is dangerous because his wisdom approaches the machinery of the world. He can send birds like couriers. He can make hidden speech useful. He can rule a kingdom and understand what lesser rulers do not know exists.

But wisdom near creation does not make the heart incorruptible.

The letters may hold fire and water in balance. A human king can lose balance in front of one beloved face.

Sonmanites Asked for Almost Nothing

Her name was Sonmanites.

Ginzberg's legend remembers her as a Jebusite woman devoted to Moloch and Raphan. Solomon loved her. Her priests saw the opening and taught her how to use it. She must not yield to the king, they advised, unless he honored her gods.

At first, Solomon refused.

Then she made the request smaller. Not a temple. Not a public bow. Not a royal decree. Crush five locusts in his hand in the name of Moloch.

Five insects. A gesture that could vanish before anyone at court noticed. The trap was not in the size of the act but in the name attached to it. Solomon did not have to believe in the idol to honor it. He only had to make his hand obey.

He crushed the locusts.

Wisdom Left the Throne

The loss was immediate.

The divine spirit departed from him. His strength went. His wisdom went. The king who had understood birds, letters, and judgment found himself emptied by an act small enough to hide in a fist.

After that, the fall widened. The legend says he sank until he built temples to Baal and Raphan to please the woman he loved. Josephus gives the broader royal ruin: seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines, foreign attachments, age weakening resolve, and worship turned aside to the gods of the women he would not refuse.

The sentence followed. The kingdom would be torn apart after Solomon's death. Not all at once, because of David. Not in Solomon's own days, because mercy still remembered the father. But ten tribes would be ripped away under his son.

The Small Sin Split a Kingdom

The legend understands scale better than Solomon did.

Five locusts are almost nothing. That is why they are terrifying. A spectacular rebellion announces itself. A small compromise slips through the door carrying a kingdom on its back.

Solomon's first failure was not architectural. It was tactile. Fingers closed. Bodies broke. A name of foreign worship hung over the little crushed creatures, and the king's inner house cracked.

Once wisdom left, the empire of control became a theater prop. Birds could still fly. Letters still held their mysteries. The throne still stood under him. But the center had moved. The man who had ordered the queen of Sheba by winged mail could not command himself before Sonmanites.

By the time the kingdom split, the break had already happened in his hand.

SolomonWisdomIdolatryTempleLettersKingship
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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 5:55Legends of the Jews

Intrigued, he decides to reach out to the Queen of Sheba. But how do you send a royal invitation across vast distances in those days? You use avian mail, of course!

That Solomon, pleased with the hoopoe's report, summoned his scribes. They carefully penned a letter, bound it securely to the hoopoe's wing, and off it flew, soaring skyward with its distinctive cry, followed by a whole flock of other birds. Can you imagine the sight?

Their destination? Kitor, in the land of Sheba. Now, picture this: it’s morning, and the queen is outside, engaged in her daily worship of the sun. Suddenly, the sky darkens as a massive flock of birds blots out the sunlight. The queen, understandably startled, tears her garment in astonishment.

Then, the hoopoe, the messenger, alights nearby. Seeing the letter attached to its wing, the queen takes it and reads the message. What did it say? Well, it was quite the royal decree!

The letter, straight from King Solomon himself, begins with a greeting: "From me, King Solomon! Peace be with thee, peace with the nobles of thy realm!" Then it gets down to business. Solomon declares that God has appointed him king over all creatures – beasts, birds, demons, spirits, you name it! He boasts that kings from across the East and West come to greet him.

But here’s the real kicker: Solomon offers the Queen of Sheba an invitation, and a warning. "If thou wilt come and salute me," he writes, "I shall show thee great honor, more than to any of the kings that attend me." But, he continues, "if thou wilt not pay homage to me, I shall send out kings, legions, and riders against thee!"

And who are these kings, legions, and riders? According to Solomon, "The beasts of the field are my kings, the birds my riders, the demons, spirit, and shades of the night my legions." A pretty formidable force. The letter concludes with a rather chilling threat: "The demons will throttle you in your beds at night, while the beasts will slay you in the field, and the birds will consume your flesh." Yikes!

So, what do you think the Queen of Sheba did? Did she accept Solomon's invitation? Did she risk the wrath of his wild army? That, my friends, is a story for another time. But it does make you wonder about the power of words, the audacity of kings, and the important role even the smallest creatures can play in the grand scheme of things.

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Sefer Yetzirah Gra Version 6:4Sefer Yetzirah Gra Version

The Sefer Yetzirah (ספר יצירה), or "Book of Formation," offers a glimpse into this profound mystery. It’s a foundational text of Jewish mysticism, and while there are various versions, the "Gra Version" – attributed to the Vilna Gaon, a towering figure of Jewish scholarship – gives us a particularly intriguing perspective.

A specific passage that deals with the "Three Mothers": AMSh (אמש) – Alef, Mem, Shin – which represent Air, Water, and Fire. These aren't just elements in the periodic table sense, but primal forces that interweave to create everything we know.

The verse reads, "Fire is above, water is below, and air of Breath is the rule that decides between them." Imagine it: fire, energetic and ascendant; water, fluid and receptive. And between them, air – or rather, Ruach (רוּחַ), breath – the vital force that mediates and balances. It's a dynamic tension, a constant interplay. And there’s a proof. "And a sign of this thing is that fire supports water." Think of a pot on a stove. Without fire, the water wouldn't boil, wouldn't transform. The fierce and the yielding depend on each other.

How does this balancing act actually work? The Sefer Yetzirah continues, "Mem hums, Shin hisses, and Alef is the breath of air that decides between them." Each letter embodies the essence of its element. Mem, 水, is the sound of flowing water. Shin, 🔥, the sound of crackling fire. And Alef, א, 🌬️, the silent breath that gives life to both. It's this breath, this divine spark, that governs their interaction.

The text then shifts, offering a series of potent metaphors: "The Teli in the Universe is like a king on his throne. The Cycle in the Year is like a king in the province. The Heart in the Soul is like a king in war."

What's the Teli? It’s a complex concept, often understood as a cosmic force or axis that governs the universe. It's the ultimate authority, just as a king is on his throne. The cycle of the year, with its seasons and changes, represents a more localized, practical form of governance – a king in his province, ensuring order and prosperity. And finally, the heart within the soul – the seat of our emotions and intentions – is like a king in war, constantly battling inner conflicts and striving for balance.

These metaphors paint a picture of a hierarchical system, where a central authority governs different levels of reality, from the cosmic to the personal. But what does this governance look like? The Sefer Yetzirah offers a crucial insight, drawing from the wisdom of Ecclesiastes (7:14): "Also God made one opposite the other."

This isn’t just about duality; it's about the inherent relationship between opposing forces. "Good opposite evil, Evil opposite good. Good from good, Evil from evil. Good defines evil, And evil defines good." Neither can exist without the other. Good gains its meaning from the presence of evil, and vice versa. Think of light and darkness, joy and sorrow. They are two sides of the same coin, constantly defining and informing each other.

And what is the reward, or punishment, for choosing one over the other? "Good is kept for the good ones, And evil is kept for the evil ones." This isn’t necessarily about divine retribution in a simplistic sense. More profoundly, it suggests that our actions have consequences, shaping our inner world and ultimately determining our experience of reality. We create our own heaven and hell through the choices we make.

So, as we reflect on these ancient words, let's consider the delicate balance within ourselves and the universe around us. How can we cultivate the "breath of air" that harmonizes the fire and water within? How can we strive to be among the "good ones," drawing goodness into our lives and contributing to a more balanced world? The Sefer Yetzirah invites us to contemplate these questions and to actively participate in the ongoing creation of reality.

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Legends of the Jews 5:93Legends of the Jews

Not just the wise king of Israel, but a man who, according to some accounts, lost his way in a rather spectacular fashion.

1 Kings 11 speaks of his heart being turned away by his foreign wives, leading him to worship other gods. But the legends? Oh, the legends paint a much more vivid, and frankly, heartbreaking picture.

The story, as retold in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, focuses on a Jebusite woman named Sonmanites. Now, Solomon was smitten. Head over heels. But Sonmanites wasn't just any woman; she was devoted to the gods Moloch and Raphan. Her priests, seeing an opportunity, advised her to reject Solomon unless he paid homage to their deities.

Initially, Solomon stood firm. He was the king, after all, blessed with divine wisdom. But love, as they say, can make you do crazy things. Sonmanites, using her influence, requested a seemingly small act. To crush five locusts in his hands in the name of Moloch. It seemed insignificant, almost trivial.

And here's where the tragedy unfolds. Solomon obeyed.

Immediately, the consequences were devastating. He was "bereft of the Divine spirit, of his strength and his wisdom." Just like that. Gone. The very qualities that defined him, the gifts he was known for, vanished. He sank so low, the story continues, that he built temples to Baal and Raphan, all to please his beloved.

Can you imagine the weight of that? The wisest man, succumbing to such a profound lapse in judgment? It’s a sobering reminder that even the most gifted among us are susceptible to temptation and the allure of love.

This tale, though not found in the primary Biblical narrative, resonates with the themes of temptation and the dangers of straying from one's faith. It also serves as a cautionary tale, a poignant reminder that wisdom alone isn't enough. We also need unwavering commitment to our values, and the strength to resist even the smallest compromises.

What do you make of Solomon's choice? And what does his story teach us about our own vulnerabilities?

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Antiquities VIII.7-8Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

Solomon had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines. And they destroyed him. That is the blunt verdict of Josephus, who watched the wisest king in Israel's history slide into idolatry because he could not say no to the women he loved.

It started with foreign marriages. Sidonian women, Tyrian women, Ammonites, Edomites, all forbidden by the Torah of Moses (Deuteronomy 7:3-4). Solomon worshipped their gods to please them. As his mind weakened with age, he could no longer recall the devotion that had defined his youth. God had appeared to him twice in dreams, urging him to follow the example of his father David. He ignored both warnings.

A prophet came and delivered the sentence: the kingdom would be torn apart. Not during Solomon's lifetime. God honored His promise to David. But under his son. Ten tribes would be ripped away and given to a servant. Only two would remain for David's grandson, preserved for the sake of Jerusalem and its Temple.

God then raised enemies. Hadad, a surviving prince of the Edomite royal line, had fled to Egypt as a child when Joab slaughtered every fighting man in Edom. Pharaoh raised Hadad like a son and gave him his wife's sister in marriage. When Hadad heard that both David and Joab were dead, he returned and began raiding Israel from Syria alongside a warlord named Rezon.

Meanwhile, Solomon's own officer Jeroboam, a young man of fierce ambition whom Solomon had put in charge of fortification works, met the prophet Ahijah of Shiloh on the road outside Jerusalem. Ahijah tore his garment into twelve pieces and gave Jeroboam ten, telling him God would hand him ten tribes because Solomon had abandoned the covenant. When Solomon learned of the prophecy, he tried to kill Jeroboam, who fled to Egypt and waited.

Solomon died at ninety-four, having reigned eighty years. His son Rehoboam inherited the throne. And immediately bungled it. The people begged for lighter burdens. Rehoboam's elder advisors counseled mercy. His young friends told him to threaten scorpions. He chose the young friends. Ten tribes seceded on the spot, stoned Rehoboam's tax collector to death, and crowned Jeroboam as their king. The united kingdom of Israel was finished.

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