We pick up with Shemhazai and Azazel. Now, these weren’t just any angels. They were part of a group who, according to some traditions, were sent to Earth to observe humanity. But, as the saying goes, some observers become participants. And in this case, very enthusiastic ones.
Shemhazai and Azazel, as Legends of the Jews recounts, weren't deterred from, shall we say, fraternizing with the daughters of men. And from these unions, well, sons were born. Two sons, to be exact, from Shemhazai. Imagine the celestial scandal!
But Azazel? He took a different, perhaps even more insidious route. He became the ultimate fashion consultant, devising "the finery and the ornaments by means of which women allure men.” Think about that for a moment. Azazel, teaching humanity the art of… temptation. It’s a pretty loaded accusation, isn’t it?
Then, the hammer drops. God, seeing the way things are heading, decides enough is enough. He resolves to destroy the world and bring on the deluge – the great flood. It’s a pretty drastic measure, right?
And here's where the story takes a poignant turn. God sends Metatron – a powerful angelic figure, some say the highest-ranking angel – to tell Shemhazai about the impending doom.
Now, you might expect Shemhazai to repent, to plead for humanity. But what does he do? He weeps. He grieves. Not for the world, but for… his sons.
"If the world went under," he laments, "what would they have to eat?" And this is no small concern. According to the legend, these angelic offspring needed a daily diet of "a thousand camels, a thousand horses, and a thousand steers." Talk about a ravenous appetite!
It’s a strange and disturbing image, isn't it? An angel, weeping not for the souls about to be lost, but for the logistical nightmare of feeding his super-sized sons. It highlights a kind of twisted priority, a selfishness that perhaps explains why these angels fell in the first place.
What does this story tell us? Maybe it’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked desire, about the seductive power of earthly things. Or perhaps it’s a reminder that even beings of great power can be surprisingly, and disappointingly, human in their concerns. What do you think?