According to tradition, the descent into depravity that started with Enosh, the grandson of Adam, really kicked into high gear during the time of his grandson Jared. And who was to blame? Fallen angels, of course!

The story goes that these angels, gazing down from their heavenly abode, became captivated by the beauty of human women. "We will choose wives for ourselves only from among the daughters of men," they declared, "and beget children with them!" (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews). Sounds straightforward enough, right?

But there was one angel, Shemhazai, who had reservations. He feared that the others wouldn't follow through, and he would be left holding the bag, bearing the consequences of their collective sin. "I fear me, ye will not put this plan of yours into execution, and I alone shall have to suffer the consequences of a great sin," he said (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews). Talk about anxiety!

So, what did they do? They took an oath. A big one. According to Legends of the Jews, two hundred angels descended to the summit of Mount Hermon – a name that itself comes from the Hebrew word herem, meaning "anathema" or a binding oath – and swore to carry out their plan, or face dire consequences. Under the leadership of twenty captains, they did just that, defiling themselves with the daughters of men. And this is where things get really interesting.

These fallen angels weren't just hanging out. They were teaching these women forbidden knowledge! Charms, conjuring formulas, the secrets of roots and plants. Imagine the havoc they wreaked!

And what was the result of these unions? Giants. Massive, three-thousand-ell-tall giants who consumed everything in sight. When the humans' possessions were gone, the giants turned on the people themselves, devouring them. As Legends of the Jews tells us, humanity then began to trespass against the birds, beasts, reptiles, and fishes, eating their flesh and drinking their blood. The earth itself cried out against these impious evildoers!

But the corruption didn't stop there. Azazel, another fallen angel, taught men how to make weapons – slaughtering knives, arms, shields, coats of mail. He revealed the secrets of metals and how to work them, and showed them how to adorn themselves with armlets, trinkets, rouge, and jewels. (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews). Basically, he introduced them to the art of war and vanity. Shemhazai, our anxious leader, instructed them in exorcisms, Armaros taught them how to raise spells, Barakel, divination from the stars; Kawkabel, astrology; Ezekeel, augury from the clouds; Arakiel, the signs of the earth; Samsaweel, the signs of the sun; and Seriel, the signs of the moon. The Zohar has much more to say about the roles of these fallen ones, as well.

While all this chaos unfolded, there was one righteous man: Enoch. He lived in a secret place, hidden among the angel watchers and holy ones. And it was to Enoch that a divine call came.

"Enoch, thou scribe of justice," the voice said, "go unto the watchers of the heavens… Go and proclaim unto them that they shall find neither peace nor pardon!" (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews). Talk about a tough assignment!

Enoch delivered the message to Azazel and the other fallen angels, and they were terrified. They trembled and begged Enoch to intercede for them, to present a petition to God. They couldn't even look towards heaven anymore, so great was their shame.

Enoch agreed, and in a vision, he was carried up to God's throne. God's response? Not exactly forgiving. "Verily, it is you who ought to plead in behalf of men, not men in behalf of you!" God declared (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews). God then laid out the consequences: these giants, born of flesh and spirit, would become evil spirits on earth, forever causing destruction and affliction. "You have no peace!" God proclaimed.

So, what does this all mean? It’s a wild story, no doubt. A cautionary tale about the dangers of forbidden knowledge, the corruption of power, and the consequences of straying from the divine path. It's a reminder that even those closest to the divine can fall, and that our actions have far-reaching consequences. And perhaps, it's also a glimpse into the ancient anxieties about the blurring of boundaries – between heaven and earth, spirit and flesh, human and divine. Where do you think the tension of this story lies?