That feeling, that ancestral weight, is something Jewish tradition understands deeply. And it all starts with Seth.
After the tragic story of Cain and Abel, and after a period of separation, Adam and Eve reunited. The Zohar tells us that their love was even stronger than before, a love so profound that Adam carried Eve in his thoughts constantly. From this renewed love came Seth, a figure of immense importance.
Jewish tradition sees Seth as more than just another son. He's the ancestor of the Messiah, the one who would ultimately redeem the world. But even more than that, certain traditions held he was born without needing circumcision, one of thirteen people to be born that way.
And there's something else. The text tells us Adam begot Seth "in his likeness and image." That might sound like flowery language, but it's incredibly significant. See, Cain wasn't in Adam's likeness. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Seth, in a very real sense, became the father of the human race, especially the father of the pious. While the depraved and godless, unfortunately, descended from Cain.
Think about that for a moment. Two lineages, stemming from the same source, but diverging into radically different paths. One, marked by violence and wickedness. The other, by virtue and wisdom.
Josephus, in his Antiquities of the Jews, paints a stark picture of Cain's descendants. They were, to put it mildly, awful. Intolerable in war, quick to rob, and eager to commit injustice for personal gain. It's a grim picture, a world spiraling downwards.
But then there's Seth. He grew into a virtuous man, a role model for his own children. They, in turn, followed in his footsteps, living together in harmony and prosperity. They were inventors, too, particularly skilled in understanding the heavenly bodies. They even invented a special kind of wisdom, concerned with the stars and their order. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, they wanted to make sure their discoveries weren't lost to time.
So, what did they do? They built two pillars. One of brick, the other of stone. They inscribed their knowledge on both, anticipating that the world would be destroyed, at one time by fire, and at another by water. That way, if one pillar was destroyed, the other would survive, preserving their wisdom for future generations.
It's a powerful image, isn't it? A testament to human ingenuity and a deep-seated hope for the future, even in the face of potential catastrophe. It speaks to the enduring human desire to leave a mark, to contribute something meaningful to the world.
And perhaps, that's the real legacy of Seth. Not just as the ancestor of the Messiah, but as a symbol of hope, of virtue, and of the enduring power of knowledge. What kind of pillar are we building? What legacy are we leaving for those who come after us? It's a question worth pondering, don't you think?