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The Sorcerer Who Saw Moses Coming Before Moses Was Born

A court magician reads the stars and warns Pharaoh: a liberator is rising, cast into water yet fated to bring Israel through water.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. A Star Rising Over Israel
  2. The Daughter Who Overruled Her Father
  3. The Man Who Would Part the Sea
  4. The Temple Made of Fire in the Fourth Heaven
  5. The Angels of Anger and Wrath in the Seventh Heaven

A Star Rising Over Israel

In Pharaoh's palace there was a sorcerer named Pilti, skilled in reading the Book of Signs. The Book of Signs was an ancient text of celestial omens, and what Pilti read in it terrified him. A star of Israel was rising. A child would be born who would liberate the Israelites from Egypt, and the vision described him in a way that seemed to contradict itself: he would be cast into the water, and yet through him the entire people would cross through water to freedom.

Pilti brought this to Pharaoh. Pharaoh's response was direct: drown every Israelite boy in the Nile before the child could be born or before he could grow old enough to act.

The decree went out. And in a village in Goshen, a man named Amram, head of his generation and trusted enough to have served as Pharaoh's own physician, divorced his wife Jochebed rather than bring a child into a world where Pharaoh would throw it into the river.

The Daughter Who Overruled Her Father

Amram's daughter Miriam was a child when her father made this decision, but she had already begun to receive prophetic visions, and she told him directly: your decision is more severe than Pharaoh's. Pharaoh has decreed death only for the boys. You are decreeing that no children at all will be born. If you divorce your wife, every man in Israel will follow your example. You will end Israel before Pharaoh can.

Amram reversed himself. He remarried Jochebed. A child was conceived. A basket was made from bulrushes, waterproofed with pitch. The child was placed in the Nile.

The paradox Pilti had read in the stars had arrived: the liberator was in the water.

The Man Who Would Part the Sea

Moses grew up in Pharaoh's palace, fled to Midian, spent forty years in the wilderness, and received his commission at the burning bush. When God sent him back to Egypt, what God was doing was pulling the thread of a plan that had been laid into the stars before Moses was born. The sorcerer had seen it. The paradox of water, thrown in and yet the instrument of crossing, was the shape of a life designed from its first moment around the task of liberation.

When Moses stood at the shore of the Reed Sea with the Egyptian army behind him and the water ahead, he knew what he had been told at the bush: God would be with him. What he may not have known is that the Zohar preserves a tradition about what happened in the moment before the sea parted.

God told him: stop praying and raise your staff. The sea is not going to part because you ask for it. It is going to part because you act. Move.

The Temple Made of Fire in the Fourth Heaven

Before Moses parted the sea, or perhaps overlapping with the forty days he would later spend on Sinai, he saw the heavens. The accounts in Legends of the Jews describe his ascent through seven layers of celestial space, each one more extreme than the last. In the fourth heaven he found a Temple. Not a building made of stone and wood, not a structure built by human craftsmen who knew the weight of cedar and the temperature of fire. This Temple was made entirely of fire. Red fire for the pillars. Green fire for the staves. White fire for the thresholds. Gates like carbuncle, pinnacles of ruby.

Inside this Temple of fire, the heavenly liturgy continued. Angels served at altars that no flame could damage because the altars were flame. Sacrifices were offered in a sanctuary that existed before the earthly Tabernacle was conceived, the original of which the wilderness Mishkan would be a dim copy.

The Angels of Anger and Wrath in the Seventh Heaven

In the seventh heaven, Moses met two angels unlike any others. Their names were Af, which means Anger, and Hemah, which means Wrath. Each was five hundred parasangs tall, forged from chains of black and red fire, created at the beginning of time to serve as instruments of divine fury. They had not yet been used for what they were made for. They waited.

Moses, seeing them, lost his footing. The tradition says he nearly fell. God reached out a hand and steadied him. The angels of Anger and Wrath would have their moment later, when they were sent against the enemies of Israel at the sea. But Moses saw them first, in the seventh heaven, before any of it happened. He saw what was waiting to be deployed.

He came back down carrying tablets of fire and the knowledge that the heavens were fully armed.


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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 2:261-263Legends of the Jews

Amram, Moses’s father, wasn't just any man. He was a skilled doctor, so renowned that he served Pharaoh himself! The text in Tree of Souls tells us of his wisdom, and of God's hand in his life. But, as always, shadows lurked. A sorcerer named Pilti, skilled in reading the Book of Signs, foresaw a monumental shift. He saw the rise of a child who would liberate the Israelites from their suffering, but also bring turmoil to the Egyptian kingdom. – imagine having the weight of destiny revealed to you in a vision.

Pilti warned Pharaoh of an ascending "star of Israel," a sign of impending doom for Egypt. According to this sorcerer’s visions, this "liberator of the Jews" would be cast into the sea, and through him, the entire people of Israel would cross the parted waters. Pharaoh, understandably terrified, flew into a rage. For forty days, he forbade the Israelite men from being with their wives, hoping to prevent the birth of this prophesied liberator.

Even Amram was banished from his own home, forced to remain within the palace. But can human decrees truly stand against the will of God? The answer, as we know, is a resounding no.

One night, Amram and his wife, Jochebed, managed to meet. In secret, they conceived a child. When Pilti saw the signs – a star blazing with the child’s future – he knew that Pharaoh's efforts were in vain. The wheels of destiny were already turning.

Fueled by desperation, Pharaoh issued a horrific decree: every Hebrew boy born should be cast into the Nile River, while the girls would be spared. Talk about a brutal attempt to control fate. But the midwives, fearing God more than Pharaoh, secretly defied the order, allowing the male children to live.

As the Israelites continued to multiply, Pharaoh intensified his oppression. But the people found ways to resist. When a Hebrew woman was about to give birth, she would retreat into the wilderness. If the child was a girl, they would return openly. But if it was a boy, he was left in the wilderness, where, according to the story, God miraculously protected him, even providing honey from the rocks to sustain him. These children, raised in the wild, developed an unwavering faith in God, never forgetting how they were saved.

Finally, in the seventh month, the great prophet Moses was born. And, as the story goes, God declared to the celestial hosts that this was the child for whom the world itself was created! This detail, almost casually dropped, emphasizes the immense significance of Moses's arrival.

It’s a powerful image, isn't it? A baby born into a world of danger and oppression, destined for greatness. A reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope – and the promise of liberation – can be born. What do you think this story tells us about faith, destiny, and the enduring power of the human spirit?

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Legends of the Jews, IV. Moses In Egypt, The Parents Of MosesLegends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews (Ginzberg) turns to The Parents Of Moses.

The story begins with Pharaoh's horrific decree: Hebrew baby boys were to be cast into the Nile. In response, Amram, a respected leader – the president of the Sanhedrin (the supreme rabbinic court), no less – made a painful decision. Seeing no other way to protect the children, he divorced his wife, Jochebed. This was meant as an example, and all the men of Israel followed suit, separating from their wives.

Amram wasn't just any man. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, he was held in high regard. He was a Levite, and the tribe of Levi remained faithful to God even in the face of Egyptian oppression, while other tribes, sadly, wavered and even abandoned the covenant of Abraham.

Here’s a question: Why would God allow such suffering? Well, some traditions tell us that the Hebrews themselves brought this hardship upon themselves through their impiety. It's a harsh lesson, isn't it? They had angered God, so much so that the Egyptians’ love for them turned into hatred, and they resolved to destroy them. Pharaoh, initially grateful for Joseph's wise rule, resisted, but eventually, the Egyptians deposed him until he agreed to their malicious plans.

Amram was an exceptional man, distinguished even among the pious Levites. The text says he was one of only four individuals so righteous – so completely without sin – that death would have had no power over them, if mortality hadn’t been decreed for all humanity after Adam and Eve's transgression. The others were Benjamin, Jesse (David's father), and Chileab (David's son). What an incredible standard to live up to!

The text goes on to say that Amram’s piety even helped bring the Shekhinah (שְׁכִינָה), the Divine Presence, closer to humanity. Originally, the Shekhinah dwelt among people, but after Adam's sin, it withdrew, step by step, to the seven heavens, pushed further away by each successive generation's sins: Cain, the generation of Enoch, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, the Egyptians in Abraham's time, and finally, the people of Sodom. Six righteous men – Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Levi, Kohath, and Amram – drew the Shekhinah back down, one heaven at a time. And then, through the seventh, Moses, it returned to dwell among us once more. The Midrash Rabbah tells a similar story of the Shekhinah leaving and returning.

And it wasn’t just his piety; Amram was also incredibly wise. The Egyptians initially enslaved the Hebrews through trickery, offering them a shekel for each brick they made, tempting them to work harder. But later, they forced them to work without pay, demanding the same output. Except for Amram. He hadn't fallen for their initial ploy, being content with just one shekel and one brick per day. So, that's all they could demand from him later. Clever. Now, let's talk about Jochebed (יוֹכֶבֶד). Amram’s wife was also his aunt, born on the very same day as him. Her name means "Divine Splendor," and she was said to radiate celestial light. A fitting name, don't you think? She was the daughter of Levi, a woman of incredible courage, one of the midwives who risked her life to save the Hebrew babies. the verse says, Pharaoh even sent his guards after her and her daughter, Miriam, but God made them invisible!

Their first child was a daughter, named Miriam (מִרְיָם), meaning "Bitterness," because her birth coincided with the start of the Egyptians' cruelty. Their second child was a boy, Aaron (אַהֲרֹן), whose name means "Woe unto this pregnancy!" a reference to Pharaoh's decree to kill all male Hebrew children, which was announced during Jochebed’s pregnancy with him.

So, what can we take away from this story? Amram and Jochebed faced unimaginable circumstances. They lived in a world of oppression, fear, and seemingly impossible choices. Yet, they held onto their faith, their integrity, and their love for one another. They made difficult decisions, yes, but their actions ultimately paved the way for the birth of Moses, the one who would lead their people to freedom. Their story reminds us that even in the darkest of times, hope can be born. And sometimes, the greatest leaders are forged in the fires of adversity.

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Legends of the Jews 1:27Legends of the Jews

He's got the entire Israelite nation behind him, the relentless Egyptian army closing in, and a vast, unforgiving sea in front of him. What's a leader to do?

The familiar story tells us that God commanded Moses to part the sea. But did you ever stop to think about the conversation they might have had? It wasn't just a simple command, according to the legends.

The Zohar, a foundational text of Jewish mysticism, paints a more nuanced picture. God tells Moses, "Why dost thou stand here praying? My children's prayer has anticipated thine." In other words, the Israelites’ own desperate pleas had already set the stage for a miracle. Their collective faith and yearning were powerful forces. God assures him that all Moses needs to do is raise his rod and stretch out his hand to divide the sea.

Moses, ever the thoughtful leader, doesn't just blindly obey. He raises a critical point. "Thou commandest me to divide the sea," he says, "and lay bare the dry ground in the midst of it, and yet Thou didst Thyself make it a perpetual decree, that the sand shall be placed for the bound of the sea." He's reminding God of the natural order, of the very boundaries that define the world. It's like saying, "But you set the rules! How can I break them?"

This is where the story gets really interesting. God responds, "Thou has not read the beginning of the Torah." It's a gentle but firm rebuke. God reminds Moses of the creation itself. "I, yea, I, did speak, 'Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear,' and at that time I made the condition that the waters shall divide before Israel."

According to this, there was a pre-existing condition, a cosmic agreement made at the very dawn of creation. The waters, in their essence, were always meant to part for the sake of the Israelites. Wow!

So, armed with this knowledge, God instructs Moses: "Take the rod that I gave unto thee, and go to the sea upon Mine errand, and speak thus: 'I am the messenger sent by the Creator of the world! Uncover thy paths, O sea, for My children, that they may go through the midst of thee on dry ground.'"

Moses isn’t acting on his own authority. He’s a messenger, an emissary of the divine will. And the sea, in its ancient wisdom, recognizes this authority. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, the sea isn't just a passive body of water; it's an active participant in this cosmic drama.

What does this tell us? Perhaps that even the most seemingly impossible obstacles have within them the seeds of their own resolution. Maybe the challenges we face, like that sea before Moses, aren't impenetrable walls, but opportunities for divine intervention, for a miracle waiting to unfold. Maybe, just maybe, the universe itself is subtly arranged to support us on our journey, even when we can't see the path forward.

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Legends of the Jews 4:168Legends of the Jews

The stories tell of a journey through multiple heavens, each more astonishing than the last. And in the fourth heaven? That's where things got truly spectacular.

A Temple, not built of stone and mortar, but of pure, vibrant fire. The pillars? Red fire. The staves? Green fire. Even the thresholds glowed with white fire, and the gates shimmered like carbuncles, with pinnacles of pure rubies. Just imagine seeing that. It’s hard to even wrap your head around, isn’t it?

It wasn't just the architecture that was astounding. Angels streamed in and out of this fiery Temple, their voices raised in constant praise to God. Moses, naturally, was curious. He had to know who these beings were.

Luckily, Metatron, the great angel who often serves as a guide and interpreter in these celestial journeys, was there to explain. Metatron revealed that these angels were the overseers, the guardians of… everything. They presided over the earth, the sun, the moon, the stars – all the celestial bodies. And their constant singing? That was their way of intoning praises before God, a cosmic chorus echoing through the heavens.

But the wonders didn't stop there.

Moses also noticed two gigantic planets, Venus and Mars, each as large as the entire earth. He asked Metatron, reasonably enough, what their purpose was. Why create such massive celestial bodies?

Metatron's explanation is… well, it's certainly unique. He explained that Venus’s job is to cool down the sun during the summer, preventing it from scorching the earth. And Mars? Mars lies upon the moon, to warm it, lest it freeze our world.

Now, modern science might offer different explanations for planetary functions. But within the framework of these ancient legends, it reveals a profound sense of interconnectedness. Everything in the cosmos has a purpose, a role to play in maintaining balance and harmony. It's a vision of a universe where even the largest planets are engaged in a constant, delicate dance to sustain life.

These details, found in texts like Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg, are not just fanciful tales. They offer a glimpse into the worldview of our ancestors, their understanding of the cosmos, and their unwavering belief in a divinely ordered universe.

What do you make of it all? Is it literal truth? Metaphorical wisdom? Perhaps a bit of both. Maybe, just maybe, these stories invite us to look beyond the surface, to find the deeper meaning in the cosmos and our place within it. Just like Moses, we can keep asking questions and listening for the answers, even when – or especially when – they seem to come from the most unexpected places.

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Legends of the Jews 4:171Legends of the Jews

As retold by Ginzberg, in the last heaven, Moses witnesses something truly awe-inspiring – and a little terrifying. He sees two massive angels, Af (Anger) and Hemah (Wrath). Can you picture them? Each one is five hundred parasangs tall – a parasang is an ancient unit of distance, so They're forged from chains of black and red fire, created at the very beginning to carry out God's will.

Moses, understandably, is shaken. But luckily, Metatron, the angel who guides him, steps in. "Moses, Moses, thou favorite of God, fear not, and be not terrified," Metatron reassures him. And just like that, Moses finds his calm again. It’s comforting to think even Moses needed a little reassurance sometimes, isn't it?

The journey isn't over. There’s another angel in the seventh heaven, unlike any other. This one has a frightening appearance. Picture this: it would take five hundred years to travel a distance equal to his height. And from head to toe, he’s covered in glaring eyes, so intense that anyone who looks at him falls prostrate. Who is this imposing figure?

Metatron identifies him: "This one is Samael (the angel of death), who takes the soul away from man." Samael, often associated with the Angel of Death.

"Whither goes he now?" Moses asks. Metatron explains that Samael is on his way "to fetch the soul of Job the pious." Even righteous Job, a man who suffered immensely yet remained faithful, faced this moment. It's a stark reminder of our own mortality.

Overcome by the sight and the knowledge of Samael's mission, Moses does the only thing he can: he prays. "O may it be Thy will, my God and the God of my fathers, not to let me fall into the hands of this angel."

It’s a simple, heartfelt plea. A prayer for mercy, a prayer for divine protection. And perhaps, it's a prayer we can all relate to, a yearning for comfort in the face of the unknown.

What does this encounter tell us about the nature of the heavens, and perhaps even more importantly, about ourselves? Is it a reminder of divine power, the inevitability of death, or the importance of faith? Or maybe, it's all of the above.

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