It's a story of desire, rebellion, and the consequences of crossing boundaries, a story that resonates even today.
According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Louis Ginzberg, the wickedness of humanity, already apparent in the days of Enosh, reached new heights during the time of his grandson, Jared. The catalyst? Fallen angels.
These weren't your run-of-the-mill celestial beings. They saw the beauty of human women and, well, they lusted. "We will choose wives for ourselves only from among the daughters of men, and beget children with them," they declared. But their leader, Shemhazai, had reservations. "I fear me," he said, "ye will not put this plan of yours into execution, and I alone shall have to suffer the consequences of a great sin."
To quell his fears, all of them swore a binding oath. Two hundred angels descended upon Mount Hermon – a name derived from the Hebrew word herem (חרם), meaning "anathema" or "ban," because that's where they bound themselves to this forbidden purpose. Led by twenty captains, they took human wives and taught them forbidden knowledge: charms, conjuring formulas, the secrets of roots, and the power of plants.
The result of these unions? Giants. And not just any giants. These behemoths stood three thousand amot (אמות) tall – that's ells, an old measurement roughly equivalent to the length of a forearm! These giants consumed everything, first the possessions of humans, then the humans themselves. The earth itself cried out in protest against this impiety, as we find in Midrash Rabbah.
But the corruption didn't stop there. Azazel, another fallen angel, taught humans the art of warfare: how to make knives, swords, shields, and armor. He revealed the secrets of metallurgy and showed them how to adorn themselves with jewelry, makeup, and precious stones. Shemhazai taught exorcism, while others, like Armaros, instructed in spellcasting; Barakel, divination; Kawkabel, astrology; Ezekeel, augury; Arakiel, earth signs; Samsaweel, solar signs; and Seriel, lunar signs.
Amidst all this chaos, there lived a righteous man: Enoch. Hidden away, communing with the angels and holy ones, he was chosen to deliver a dire message. God called to him, "Enoch, thou scribe of justice, go unto the watchers of the heavens… Go and proclaim unto them that they shall find neither peace nor pardon." He was to tell them that their offspring would die violently and that their prayers for mercy would go unanswered.
Imagine the scene: Enoch approaches Azazel and the other fallen angels, delivering their doom. Fear grips them. Trembling, they beg Enoch to intercede on their behalf, to present a petition to God. They can no longer even look towards heaven, so great is their shame.
Enoch, in his compassion, agrees. He's taken in a vision before the throne of God, where he receives the divine judgment: "Go forth and say to the watchers of heaven… Verily, it is you who ought to plead in behalf of men, not men in behalf of you! Why did ye forsake the high, holy, and eternal heavens, to pollute yourselves with the daughters of men, taking wives unto yourselves, doing like the races of the earth, and begetting giant sons?"
The judgment continues, explaining the fate of the giants: "Giants begotten by flesh and spirits will be called evil spirits on earth… Evil spirits proceed from their bodies… they will be evil spirits on earth, and evil spirits they will be named." These spirits will plague humanity until the end of days.
And to the fallen angels themselves? The final, crushing blow: "You have no peace!"
What does this story tell us? Perhaps it's a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked desire and the consequences of forbidden knowledge. Maybe it's about the blurring of boundaries between the divine and the mortal, and the chaos that ensues. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that even angels aren't immune to temptation, and that true peace is only found in staying true to one's purpose.