5 min read

The Witch of En-Dor and the Spirit That Stood the Wrong Way

Summoned spirits appear inverted, feet in the air. When Samuel rose upright, the witch of En-dor knew immediately who had disguised himself as her visitor.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The King in Ordinary Clothes
  2. The Rule About Summoned Spirits
  3. What Samuel Said From the Other Side
  4. Why the Spirit Stood Upright
  5. Saul's Final Night

The King in Ordinary Clothes

Saul arrived at the house of the woman of En-dor after dark, wearing ordinary clothes. He had brought two companions, men he trusted. He had removed every visible marker of his rank. The disguise was careful, the kind of disguise a man constructs when he has no good options left and is embarrassed by the option he is about to use.

He had expelled the mediums and necromancers from Israel. He had done this himself, by his own royal decree, because the Torah prohibited such practices. He was now standing at the door of one of them, asking her to do the thing he had made illegal. The irony was not lost on anyone, including Saul.

He asked her to summon Samuel.

The Rule About Summoned Spirits

The tradition gives necromancy one rule that reveals everything about how the afterlife operates under this framework. A summoned spirit appears inverted: head downward, feet in the air, as if the world after death obeys a different gravity from the one the living inhabit. The soul that has passed through death into whatever lies beyond it exists in a mirror state, reversed in the direction that embodied life does not face.

One exception changes this. When a king is the person requesting the summoning, the spirit rises upright, in the posture of life. Royalty, in the logic of this tradition, partakes of a category that death cannot fully invert. The dignity attached to kingship persists across the boundary.

The woman of En-dor knew nothing of who was standing in her house when she conducted the ritual. She summoned Samuel. The spirit rose upright.

She screamed at Saul: you are the king.

What Samuel Said From the Other Side

Samuel was not pleased. His first words to Saul expressed exactly the displeasure of a man who has been dragged back across a boundary he had crossed legitimately and does not appreciate the interruption. Saul told him what the problem was: the Philistines were massing for battle, God had stopped answering him through dreams and the Urim and Thummim and prophets, and he had nowhere else to turn.

Samuel asked him: why do you ask me, since God has turned from you and become your adversary? He named what Saul already knew. He named Agag and the cattle and the voice that had said do not be overjust and the command that had not been completed. He did not pretend the cause of Saul's abandonment was mysterious.

Then he said: tomorrow you and your sons will be with me.

Why the Spirit Stood Upright

The Zohar, the foundational mystical text of Jewish tradition composed in thirteenth-century Castile, is the source for the rule about inversion and the royal exception. The detail that the woman identified Saul through the posture of the summoned spirit, before he said a word to confirm who he was, comes from the same mystical tradition that understood death as a state of reversal and kingship as a category that persists even after death.

Samuel had been a judge, a prophet, and the anointer of kings. He had anointed both Saul and, later, David. The office he had held in life carried a weight that the tradition understood as still present in death, a different kind of inversion from the ordinary one: Samuel standing upright before the king who had replaced the king he had already anointed, bringing a message that was not comfort.

Saul's Final Night

He fell full length on the ground when he heard the prophecy. He had eaten nothing all day and through the night. The woman, who had been threatened with death for doing exactly what she was now doing, prepared food and brought it to him. She killed the fatted calf herself and baked bread. She fed him. Saul ate and went out before dawn into the last night of his life.

The woman who had identified him by the posture of a dead man was the last person who was kind to him.


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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 3:31Legends of the Jews

Saul's grief was profound. The prophet Samuel, his guide and sometimes his critic, was gone. According to Legends of the Jews, Saul felt isolated, adrift. And in his desperation, he turned to something… unconventional. He sought out the witch of En-dor.

Saul wasn’t exactly upfront about who he was. Accompanied by his adjutants, Abner and Amasa, he disguised himself. But, as we'll see, some secrets are hard to keep, especially from a witch!

There's an interesting rule in necromancy, the art of communicating with the dead. The Zohar tells us that a spirit, when summoned, usually appears upside down – head downward, feet in the air. Unless… unless a king is the one doing the summoning.

So, when the figure of Samuel stood upright before them, the witch instantly knew who her disguised visitor truly was. Imagine that moment! The air thick with anticipation, the flickering candlelight, and then… the unmistakable presence of a king.

But here's where things get even stranger, adding to the mystery of the encounter. The witch could see Samuel, but she couldn't hear what he said. Saul, on the other hand, heard Samuel's words, but couldn't see him. It’s a peculiar phenomenon described in Legends of the Jews: the conjuror sees the spirit, the one who requested the summoning hears it. And anyone else present? They neither see nor hear a thing.

It's a layered experience, almost like a carefully constructed play. Each person receives a different piece of the puzzle, highlighting the limitations of our perception. Was this a true communication? A trick of the mind? Or something else entirely? The story of Saul and the witch of En-dor leaves us with more questions than answers, a reminder that even in the face of death, the mysteries of life. And the afterlife, remain.

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Tikkunei Zohar 70:7Tikkunei Zohar

The Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar, a foundation of Kabbalistic literature, offers a fascinating glimpse into this very question. It paints a picture of the prophet's spirit ascending, reaching a higher realm, and from that vantage point, receiving divine communication.

The book draws our attention to the prophet Ezekiel, specifically to a powerful passage in the Book of Ezekiel. It's where God says to him, "Son of man! Stand upon your feet and I shall speak with you" (Ez. 2:1).

Think about the sheer command in that statement! It's not a gentle request, but a powerful call to attention, a preparation for something profound. The Tikkunei Zohar sees this as the very beginning of the prophet's ascent.

Then, Ezekiel continues, "And there came into me a ru-aḥ, when He spoke to me, and it stood me upon my feet, and I heard it speaking to me.." (Ez. 2:2). What is this ru-aḥ? It's often translated as "spirit" or "wind," but in this context, it's more than just a breeze. It's a divine breath, a surge of spiritual energy that empowers Ezekiel, enabling him to stand firm and receive the divine message. It's the very force that allows him to connect with the divine.

Ezekiel later says, "And a ru-aḥ lifted me and I heard behind me..." (Ez. 3:12). Again, we see the ru-aḥ at work, lifting him, transporting him, shifting his perspective. The Tikkunei Zohar makes a crucial connection here, linking these experiences to the Shekhinah, the divine feminine presence. It's said of the Shekhinah, "...and you shall see My back parts aḥoraiy..." (Ex. 33:23). So, when Ezekiel says, "...and I heard behind me aḥaraiy," the Tikkunei Zohar suggests that he is perceiving the divine from the perspective of the Shekhinah.

It's an incredible image, isn't it? Of the prophet not just hearing, but being lifted, transformed, and positioned to receive divine wisdom through the very essence of the divine feminine. It speaks to a profound intimacy, a closeness to the divine source.

This idea that prophets receive their messages from "behind," from the aḥoraiy, is fascinating. It suggests that prophetic insight isn't always about seeing the future clearly laid out before us. Sometimes, it's about understanding the past, the consequences of actions, the subtle currents that shape our present and future. The prophets, in a sense, are reading the divine "backwards" to understand where we are going.

What can we learn from this? Perhaps it's that true understanding requires a shift in perspective, a willingness to be lifted and moved by a force greater than ourselves. Maybe it’s a reminder that sometimes the most profound truths are found not by looking ahead, but by looking back, by understanding the deeper currents of the past that shape our present. And perhaps, just perhaps, by listening for the whispers of the divine ru-aḥ that surrounds us all.

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Kohelet Rabbah 8:1Kohelet Rabbah

Kohelet Rabbah turns to No One Rules the Spirit or Controls the Day of Death.

The opening line, “There is no man who rules the spirit,” is interpreted in multiple ways. One fascinating reading, according to the Rabbis, is that no one can control the malach ha-mavet, the Angel of Death, preventing him from taking them. How do we know angels are considered spirits? Well, (Psalm 104:4) tells us that God "makes his angels spirits." So, no matter how powerful or wealthy you are, you can't bribe or outsmart the Angel of Death.

“there is no rule over the day of death” means just that. You can't negotiate with death, can you? You can't say, "Hold on, let me just finish my taxes, then I’ll be right with you." Nope. As the text bluntly puts it, a person cannot say to the angel of death: ‘Wait for me until I make my accounting, and then I will come.’

"There is no release in war," is also fascinating. It isn't necessarily about literal warfare, but about evading fate. You can’t send a substitute – “My son, my servant, or a member of my household will take my place." Ultimately, each of us faces our own challenges, and we can't pawn them off on someone else.

And finally, “wickedness will not rescue its owner.” You can’t bribe your way out of judgment. You can't commute your sentence or appeal your conviction.

Rabbi Nehemya offers another perspective on that first line, "There is no man who rules the spirit." He suggests it means that no prophet of Israel can control the spirit of God, preventing Him from conveying prophecy. Even if a prophet tries to resist – "I will not mention Him, and I will not speak anymore in His name" – as Jeremiah says in (Jeremiah 20:9), the word of God burns within them like a fire. And the prophet cannot refrain from conveying his prophecy even if it is a prophecy of death and destruction, alluding to (Jeremiah 15:2): “Those who are to death, to death…”

Rabbi Ḥagai, quoting Rabbi Yitzḥak, brings in a different angle. He says that the cynics of that generation were scoffing at the prophecies, saying, "The vision that he is foretelling is for many days to come" (Ezekiel 12:27). But the prophet retorts, "For it is in your days, defiant house" (Ezekiel 12:25). The message? Don't think you can outsmart fate or postpone divine judgment.

Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov takes it to a political level: there is no man who rules the spirit of the kingdoms, to prevent their rule over him. We are all subject to earthly powers. And “there is no rule over the day of death,” as it is stated: “Snares of death confronted me” (Psalms 18:6). There is no escape from God’s retribution by waging war, just as (Psalms 78:49) says: “A band [mishlaḥat] of destroying animals.” However, repentance can mitigate the decree.

The Rabbis offer yet another take: “There is no man who rules his own spirit to bring about its termination from him.” We don’t have the power to simply end our own existence. Rabbi Ḥanina elaborates, pointing to (Zechariah 12:1): “And fashions [veyotzer] the spirit of man within him.” God has bound [tzar] the spirit of man within him, because if He hadn’t, we’d just cast it away when trouble came.

Rabbi Levi notes that King David is mentioned approximately fifty-two times in scripture. But when he was close to death, it says, "The days of David drew near to die" (I Kings 2:1) because, again, “there is no rule over the day of death.”

And finally, Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, tells a curious story about the trumpets used in Moses' time. One verse says they were used to gather the people (Numbers 10:3), while another says Moses assembled the elders himself (Deuteronomy 31:28). So where were the trumpets? The Holy One, blessed be He, didn’t want Moses' sons blowing the trumpets after his death, a tradition often reserved for kings, because “there is no rule over the day of death.” Even great leaders are subject to the same fate as everyone else. Rabbi Elazar, quoting Rabbi Simon, adds that God accorded great honor to Moses, as He said to him: “Craft for you two trumpets” (Numbers 10:2), but not for Joshua.

So, what's the takeaway from all this? Perhaps it’s a reminder that while we strive for control, there are forces beyond our grasp. It's about humility, recognizing our limitations, and focusing on what we can control: our actions, our choices, and our relationships. Maybe true wisdom lies not in trying to rule the spirit or cheat death, but in living a life of meaning and purpose, knowing that every day is a gift.

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