We often speak of "the world," but what if there are actually layers to our reality, different "earths" with their own unique inhabitants and characteristics?
Let's dive into a lesser-known corner of Jewish lore: the seven earths. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, compiles these traditions from various sources. What we discover is a wild ride, a multi-layered cosmos each with its own set of rules and inhabitants.
Our journey begins with Adam. When he was cast out of Paradise, he didn't land on the familiar ground we walk on. Instead, he found himself on the Erez, the lowest of the seven earths. Imagine a place of utter darkness, devoid of light, a complete void. Terrifying, right? Especially with the ever-turning sword, a fiery guardian, looming nearby. No wonder Adam was terrified!
After doing penance, Adam ascended to the second earth, the Adamah. Here, a faint light exists, reflected from its own sky and ghostly stars. This realm is home to the phantom-like beings born from the union of Adam and spirits. These are creatures of perpetual sadness, unfamiliar with joy. Driven by some inner restlessness, they sometimes venture to our earth, where they transform into evil spirits before returning to their own realm to till the unyielding ground. It’s here, on the Adamah, that Cain, Abel, and Seth were born.
The story doesn't end there. After the tragic murder of Abel, Cain was banished back to the Erez, that dark and frightening lowest earth. But after repenting, God allowed him to ascend once more, this time to the third earth, the Arka. This earth receives a little light from the sun, and it was given to the descendants of Cain, the Cainites, as their permanent home. They till the land and plant trees, but, like the Adamah, it yields no wheat or any of the seven species blessed to grow in the land of Israel.
The Cainites themselves are quite a sight! Some are giants, others dwarfs. And some… some have two heads! Imagine the internal conflict! According to the legends, their dual-headed nature makes them indecisive, prone to shifting between piety and wickedness in a moment.
Next, we encounter the Ge, the fourth earth. This is where the generation of the Tower of Babel and their descendants were banished. As we learn in Midrash Rabbah, their proximity to Gehenna (hell) and its fires was deemed a fitting punishment. But don't think of them as just suffering. The inhabitants of the Ge are incredibly skilled in the arts and sciences, living in a land overflowing with wealth. But there's a catch: they’re also tricksters. Should someone from our earth visit, they'll shower them with gifts, then lead them to the fifth earth, the Neshiah.
And what's so bad about the Neshiah? Well, it's inhabited by dwarfs... without noses! They breathe through two holes instead. More importantly, as the name Neshiah ("forgetting") suggests, they have no memory. Everything is instantly forgotten. Like the Arka, the Ge and the Neshiah have trees, but no wheat or the seven species.
The sixth earth is the Ziah, a land of handsome men living in palaces, overflowing with wealth. However, the name Ziah means "drought," and that's their curse: a lack of water. Vegetation is sparse, and their tree-growing efforts are largely unsuccessful. Driven by thirst, they seek out springs, hoping to sneak through to our earth and satisfy their craving for our food. Despite this hardship, they are said to be remarkably steadfast in their faith, more so than any other group of people.
Finally, we arrive at the seventh earth, the Tebel—the earth we know, inhabited by humans. According to the legends, Adam eventually made his way here, passing through the Arka, the Ge, the Neshiah, and the Ziah, after Seth was born.
So, what does this all mean? Is it a literal depiction of different worlds, or a metaphorical representation of different states of being? Perhaps it's a way of understanding the complexities of human nature, the constant struggle between good and evil, memory and forgetfulness, abundance and lack. Each "earth" represents a different facet of our existence, a different challenge we face. And maybe, just maybe, it reminds us that even when we feel lost in the darkness of the Erez, there's always the potential to ascend, to find light and meaning, and ultimately, to find our way home to the Tebel.