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Three Men Walked Into Nebuchadnezzar's Furnace Expecting to Die

A congregation told God there was nobody righteous left alive to lean on. God answered by naming three men who went into a fire in Babylon.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Congregation Said There Was Nobody Left
  2. A King Asked Which God Could Take Them Out of His Hand
  3. They Answered Without Asking for a Guarantee
  4. The King Blessed the God He Had Challenged
  5. The Dark Is Not the Same as an Empty Room
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The Congregation Said There Was Nobody Left

They came into the synagogue after everything was over and said it plainly. "Redeem us."

"There are righteous men among you," God said. "There are men in this room who fear me."

"There were," they said. "In the days of Moses there were. In the days of Aaron and Saul and David and Solomon there were. They have been taken from us, and they were taken because of what we did. The righteous die and nobody lays it to heart. Every man lies to his neighbor now and flatters him with his mouth. We have no one left to lean on. We walk in the dark and we do not know where we are going."

They knew what had been in the room before. Moses came down off the mountain carrying the light he had been standing in, and the people were afraid to come near his face. Joshua was given a share of that same splendor at the Jordan, and the nation feared him the way it had feared Moses. A share of it. Not all of it. Even at the best of times what they held was a portion.

"Trust the name," God said. "I am the one holding you up."

They wanted an example. He gave them three.

A King Asked Which God Could Take Them Out of His Hand

The image on the plain of Dura was gold from its feet to its head, and the rule was simple. When the horn sounded, everyone in the empire went down on his face. Officials, governors, treasurers, judges, all of them flat in the dust together.

Certain Chaldeans brought Nebuchadnezzar a report. Three Judeans were standing upright in a field of bowed backs.

He had them brought in, and he was generous about it. He would have the horn and the pipe and the harp play once more, and they could go down with everyone else, and the matter would end there. If they stayed on their feet, the furnace was already stoked, heated seven times past its working heat.

Then he asked the question. "And who is the god that will deliver you out of my hands?"

He was not sneering. He had taken cities and carried their gods out of their own temples on carts, and none of those gods had put a hand out to stop him. He had checked. He was asking from evidence.

They Answered Without Asking for a Guarantee

Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah answered him in one voice, and the first half of the answer was what anyone would expect. Their God was able to deliver them out of the furnace and out of the king's hand.

Then came the rest of it. "And if not, let it be known to you, king, that we will not serve your gods, and we will not worship the golden image you have set up."

They were not walking into the fire in order to come out of it. They were walking into the fire in order to burn.

Love is as strong as death, Solomon wrote, and the sentence is not flattery. Death does not haggle. Death does not accept a payment and go away. Love holds on with exactly that grip, and three men in Babylon had just told a king that they had already conceded the worst thing he could do to them.

He had nothing left to threaten them with. He had the furnace, and they had already agreed to it.

The King Blessed the God He Had Challenged

He had the fire built up hotter, which cost him. The flame came out of the mouth of the furnace and killed the men who carried the three to the edge. Then the three went in bound, in their coats and their hats and their trousers, and did not come apart.

An angel came into the fire with them.

Nebuchadnezzar got up off his throne. The man who had asked which god could take them out of his hand stood in front of his own court and blessed the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who had sent his angel and delivered his servants because they trusted him, and who had set aside a king's command, and who had taken three bodies handed over to be burned rather than bowed.

The Dark Is Not the Same as an Empty Room

There was another one after them. Daniel went down into a pit of lions on a similar charge, and the king who signed the order could not sleep and came at first light and shouted down into the hole, asking whether the God he served continually had been enough to save him. The stone came off. Daniel came up.

David heard the whole account and drew the only conclusion available to him. If everyone who trusts is brought out, then he would trust too, and let the outcome be what it would be.

The congregation had come in asking for a righteous man to lean on, and no righteous man was produced. They were handed four names instead, and every one of them belonged to somebody who had walked toward the fire or the pit with nothing in his hands.

Midrash TehillimNebuchadnezzarDanielTrustAngelsDavidMoses
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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Midrash Tehillim 9:21Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

Midrash Tehillim turns to Nebuchadnezzar and the Angels of Songs.

The passage begins with a rather curious reference to King Solomon and a line from the Song of Songs (8:4): "I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases." It immediately launches into this feeling of being “sick with love,” a love that isn’t just physical, but something far more profound. "For I am love-sick" (Hosea 2:7), the text quotes.

It doesn’t stop there. This love is connected to death itself: "For love is strong as death," as (Song of Songs 8:6) tells us. What does it mean for love to be as strong as death?

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) then takes a fascinating turn, bringing in the image of fragrance and devotion: "Your oils have a pleasing fragrance, your name is like purified oil; therefore the maidens love you" (Song of Songs 1:3). It uses this to segue into a discussion about the unique relationship between God and the Jewish people. It poses the question: what nation was told to "descend to the sea?" The answer, of course, is the Jews. And it connects that act of faith to the idea of unwavering loyalty, even when faced with abandonment. “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up" (Psalms 27:10), David declares. What does it truly mean to have faith when everything around you seems to be crumbling?

Then comes the story of Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king, and his fiery furnace. Remember him? He challenges the Jewish people, demanding they worship his idols. "And who is the god that will deliver you out of my hands?" he sneers (Daniel 3:15). The response of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is iconic: "We will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up" (Daniel 3:16).

The Midrash makes a sharp comparison here: to deny God, Nebuchadnezzar is no better than a dog, or even a frog! Both are equated in their denial of God's power, linking them to the plague of frogs in Egypt (Exodus 8:3).

The passage emphasizes that even if God doesn't save them, they will not abandon Him. They are willing to sacrifice everything rather than betray their faith. And in the end, of course, God does save them. Nebuchadnezzar himself is forced to acknowledge God's power: "Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who has sent His angel and delivered His servants who trusted in Him" (Daniel 3:28). It's a powerful evidence of the strength of faith.

The Midrash stresses that they didn't give themselves up in order to be saved. Their willingness to be burned is what demonstrated their complete devotion.

And finally, we come full circle: “Why 'For love is strong as death' (Song of Songs 8:6)? A song to be sung over the death of Levan. Levan's death is not discussed in this Midrash, but the implication is clear: the love and loyalty displayed by the Jewish people, even in the face of death, is a song worthy of being sung. It echoes the unwavering commitment to something greater than oneself.

So, what do we take away from all of this? Perhaps it's the realization that true love, true faith, isn't just a feeling. It's a commitment, a willingness to stand firm even when the flames are rising. It’s a recognition that sometimes, the greatest act of love is the willingness to sacrifice everything.

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Midrash Tehillim 21:4Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

It all starts with a verse from (Psalm 21:2), "You have given him the desire of his heart." But what is the desire of his heart? The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) asks, what about "the permission of his lips?" What authority do our words carry?

The Midrash goes on to say that when a powerful person, perhaps a king, or a prophet, decrees something, it comes to pass. Imagine, if a ruler says, "Let such and such a province rebel," it happens. The text cites (Isaiah 10:6) as an example: "Let Gobai go and destroy it." Or, "Let the Apharachites rebel against you," and their rebellion comes to fruition, like (Isaiah 10:5) says, "Let the angel of death go and destroy them." their words become reality. That spoken word has such force!

Then the text shifts, asking about blessings. When we "advance with good blessings," what blessings are we talking about? Rabbi Yehuda suggests they are the blessings of Moses, which are described as "good," referencing (Exodus 2:2), "And she saw that he was good." The Rabbis offer another perspective, saying they are the blessings of the Torah itself, citing (Proverbs 4:2), "For I give you good instruction; do not forsake my Torah." So, blessings can come in different forms, and carry immense weight.

Then it gets even more intriguing. The Midrash brings up a discussion about people in Psalm who are asked to ask for something. Rabbi Berachya points out that even those who descended into the Pit - the deepest, most desolate place, perhaps a metaphor for utter spiritual ruin - are still alive. He specifically mentions Korach and his congregation, Ahithophel, and Doeg, all figures who met tragic ends in the Hebrew Bible. So, what does this mean? Even in the face of destruction, there's still a chance to ask, to receive.

The Midrash then quotes (Psalms 21:6), "Great is His glory in Your deliverance," linking it to the idea of "the splendor of the disciple," found in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) 6:3. It emphasizes that God placed His splendor upon him, but importantly, not all of His splendor. It's a fascinating nuance. Where was the rest of that splendor given?

Rabbi Yehudah says that some of God's splendor was given to Joshua at the Jordan River.: Moses, when he came down from Mount Sinai, radiated such divine light that people were afraid to approach him (Exodus 34:30). Similarly, after Joshua received his portion of glory, the Israelites feared him as they had feared Moses (Joshua 4:14). This comparison highlights Joshua's divinely granted authority and leadership, mirroring Moses' own.

So, what do we take away from all this? The Midrash Tehillim 21 really encourages us to think about the power we wield – not just political or spiritual leaders, but all of us. Our words matter. Our blessings matter. And even in our darkest moments, the opportunity to ask, to connect with the Divine, remains. It's a potent reminder to choose our words carefully and to recognize the awesome potential that lies within them.

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Midrash Tehillim 31:1Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

Midrash Tehillim turns to The Power of Trusting God in Uncertain Times.

Our passage starts with Psalm 30, "A song of dedication of the House." The Midrash offers an interesting insight: it's called "a psalm" for the First Temple, built by King Solomon, and "a song" for the Second Temple, built in the time of Ezra. Why the distinction? Perhaps it hints at the different experiences and levels of joy associated with each era.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) then takes us to the words, "In you, Lord, I have taken refuge." It connects this sentiment to a powerful verse from (Isaiah 50:10): "Who among you fears the Lord and obeys the word of his servant? Let the one who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the Lord and rely on their God."

The scene. The people of Israel are in the synagogue, pleading with God for redemption. But God reminds them that there are righteous individuals among them. The people, in turn, lament the loss of past leaders like Moses, Aaron, Saul, David, and Solomon. They feel abandoned, lost in darkness. As (Isaiah 57:1) says, "The righteous perish, and no one takes it to heart; the devout are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil." There's a sense of hopelessness, a feeling that no one is trustworthy, echoing (Psalm 12:2): "Everyone lies to their neighbor; they flatter with their lips but harbor deception in their hearts."

Feeling lost, without guidance, surrounded by deceit.

And here’s the crucial point. In this moment of utter despair, God's message is clear: trust in His name. He is their support. As (Isaiah 50:10) urges, "Let them trust in the name of the Lord and rely on their God."

The Midrash then beautifully illustrates this with stories of unwavering faith. Think of Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, thrown into the fiery furnace for refusing to worship a false idol. As (Daniel 3:28) proclaims, "Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who has sent his angel and rescued his servants!" Or consider Daniel himself, miraculously saved from the lions' den (Daniel 6:24). These are powerful examples of divine intervention, rewards for unwavering trust.

The Midrash culminates with David, the author of the Psalms, declaring: "Since this is the confidence that anyone who trusts in You will be saved, I also trust in You." It's a personal affirmation, evidence of the enduring power of faith.

Perhaps it's a reminder that even in our darkest moments, when we feel lost and alone, trust in something greater than ourselves can be a source of strength and salvation. It's not about blind faith, but about recognizing that we are not entirely alone in our struggles. It's about finding that inner wellspring of hope, that connection to something eternal, that allows us to work through the darkness and find our way back to the light. What does that look like for you, today? Where might you find that glimmer of trust?

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