Hiram, king of Tyre, was one of the most audacious men in all of scripture. God had given him wealth, beauty, and a lifespan that stretched across centuries — some sages say he lived for a thousand years. And all of it went to his head.
The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) records that Hiram built himself seven artificial heavens, each one a technological marvel. The first was made of glass, with artificial sun, moon, and stars that mimicked the real sky. The second was of iron, with a lake of water suspended within it. The third was of tin, set with precious stones that rolled like stars across its surface. Higher and higher the false heavens rose, each more elaborate than the last, supported on pillars of iron.
Hiram sat atop the seventh heaven — his own creation, his own throne above the clouds — and declared: "I am God." The prophet Ezekiel records his words: "I sit in the seat of God, in the heart of the seas" (Ezekiel 28:2). Hiram believed his own construction. He had built a heaven, therefore he was heaven's master.
But artificial heavens are not real heavens, and a king who sits on an iron throne is not the King who sits on the throne of glory. God sent Nebuchadnezzar against Hiram, and the Babylonian king tore down the seven false heavens one by one. The glass shattered. The iron buckled. The tin collapsed. The precious stones scattered.
Hiram fell from his manufactured paradise and learned what every mortal must eventually learn: you can build as high as you want, but the moment you declare yourself God, the real God brings you down. The higher the tower, the more catastrophic the fall.