Cherubim and Seraphim surrounded the throne. Six-winged, many-eyed, they never departed — standing before God's face, doing His will, covering the entire throne with their wings as they sang in gentle, ceaseless voices: Holy, holy, holy, Lord Ruler of Sabaoth — heavens and earth are full of Your glory.
Then Enoch's guides spoke their final words: "Thus far we were commanded to journey with you." And they vanished.
Enoch stood alone at the edge of the seventh heaven. Abandoned. Terrified. He fell on his face and cried out: "Woe is me — what has happened to me?"
Then God sent the archangel Gabriel. "Have courage, Enoch. Do not fear. Arise before the Lord's face — arise, and come with me."
But Enoch's soul had departed from him in terror. He could barely stand. He called out for the men who had first led him upward — they were gone. Gabriel scooped him up like a leaf caught by the wind and carried him forward.
He passed through the eighth heaven — Muzaloth, the changer of seasons, home of the twelve constellations. Through the ninth heaven — Kuchavim, where the constellations have their celestial dwellings.
And then. The tenth heaven. Aravoth.
Enoch saw the face of God.
It was like iron heated in fire until it glows white, pulled from the furnace, emitting sparks, burning with a radiance that seared the eyes. The Lord's face was ineffable — marvelous and terrible, awesome beyond all comprehension. The throne was vast, not made by hands. Troops of Cherubim and Seraphim surrounded it. Their singing never ceased. The beauty of it was immutable, and no tongue could describe the greatness of His glory.
Enoch fell prostrate and worshipped. And God spoke to him directly: "Have courage, Enoch. Do not fear. Arise and stand before My face forever."
The archangel Michael lifted him to his feet and led him before the Lord. And God said to His servants: "Let Enoch stand before My face for eternity." The glorious ones bowed and answered: "Let Enoch go according to Your word."
Then came the transformation. God commanded Michael: "Take Enoch from his earthly garments. Anoint him with My sweet ointment. Dress him in the garments of My glory."
Michael obeyed. He anointed Enoch with oil that was brighter than the greatest light, fragrant as sweet dew, radiant as the sun's ray. Enoch looked at himself and saw that he had been transfigured — he looked like one of God's own glorious angels.
Then the Lord summoned an archangel named Pravuil — the wisest of all the archangels, the one who recorded every deed of the Lord. God said to him: "Bring out the books from My storehouses, and a reed of quick-writing, and give them to Enoch. Deliver to him the choicest and most comforting books from your hand."
A mortal man, dressed in divine glory, standing before the throne of God, about to receive the secrets of creation from the hand of heaven's own scribe. This was why Enoch had been taken. Not merely to see — but to write.