And Jewish tradition offers a particularly fascinating, and sometimes unsettling, account. Let’s dive into the story of the angels and the creation of Adam, the first human.
According to Legends of the Jews by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, which draws on a vast ocean of midrashic and Talmudic sources, God, in His infinite wisdom, didn't just snap his fingers and create humanity. No, He sought counsel. He consulted with everything around Him – heaven, earth, and yes, even the angels. It’s a powerful lesson for us all: even the greatest among us shouldn't dismiss the advice of those who seem humble or insignificant.
But the angels? They weren't exactly thrilled with the idea of humanity. Imagine the divine council, a celestial board meeting if you will. The Angel of Love championed humankind, envisioning beings capable of affection and devotion. But the Angel of Truth? Not so much. He foresaw the lies and deceit that would plague human existence. Similarly, the Angel of Justice saw potential, while the Angel of Peace predicted endless conflict.
The Talmud (Sanhedrin 38b) tells us of this debate. To silence the Angel of Truth, God cast him down to earth. And when the other angels protested what they saw as unfair treatment, God declared, "Truth will spring back out of the earth" (Psalm 85:12). It's a powerful image, suggesting that even when suppressed, truth has an inherent resilience, a way of resurfacing.
Now, here’s the kicker: God hadn’t revealed the whole truth about humanity to the angels. He only spoke of the righteous, concealing the existence of the wicked. Even with this limited knowledge, the angels questioned God’s plan, crying out, "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? And the son of man, that Thou visitest him?" (Psalm 8:5).
God, in His infinite patience, responded with a question of His own: "The fowl of the air and the fish of the sea, what were they created for? Of what avail a larder full of appetizing dainties, and no guest to enjoy them?" In other words, what good is a beautiful world without someone to appreciate and cultivate it? This argument resonated, and the angels relented, exclaiming, "O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is Thy name in all the earth! Do as is pleasing in Thy sight."
But not all the angels got on board so easily. According to Ginzberg's retelling, some faced dire consequences for their opposition. When God asked the angels under the archangel Michael for their opinion, they echoed the earlier sentiment: "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him?" God, displeased by their scorn, consumed them with fire, sparing only Michael. The same fate befell the angels led by Gabriel.
Finally, the archangel Labbiel, leading the third band of angels, learned from the mistakes of his predecessors. He warned his troop, "You have seen what misfortune overtook the angels who said 'What is man, that Thou art mindful of him?' Let us have a care not to do likewise, lest we suffer the same dire punishment." Labbiel understood that God was determined to create humanity, and resistance was futile.
So, Labbiel and his angels wisely chose cooperation. They declared, "Lord of the world, it is well that Thou hast thought of creating man. Do Thou create him according to Thy will. And as for us, we will be his attendants and his ministers, and reveal unto him all our secrets."
As a reward for his wisdom and foresight, God changed Labbiel's name to Raphael, meaning "God heals," and appointed him as the Angel of Healing. As we learn in texts such as the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh, Raphael became the guardian of celestial remedies, the prototypes for the medicines used on Earth.
What does this all mean for us? This story, woven from threads of biblical verses and rabbinic interpretations, offers a powerful commentary on the nature of humanity, divine will, and the importance of perspective. It reminds us that even the angels, beings of pure spirit, struggled to comprehend God's vision for humanity. It suggests that humanity, with all its flaws and contradictions, holds a unique place in creation. Perhaps, like Raphael, we are all called to be healers, to mend the brokenness we see in the world and in ourselves. And maybe, just maybe, that's what makes us worthy of God's attention.