It might surprise you. We often think of angels as the ultimate divine cheerleaders, right? But Jewish tradition has some fascinating ideas about who gets to sing God's praises first, and who gets the prime real estate around the Divine Throne.
Think of the most powerful figures in the heavenly realm. According to ancient texts, the most exalted beings surround the Divine Throne on all sides. We're talking about the archangels — Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael — leading the celestial hosts. They’re the top tier, the A-list of angels.
But here's where it gets interesting. All those celestial beings, they're all chanting, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts." But according to some traditions, humans, yes us, take precedence. Ginzberg, in his masterful retelling in Legends of the Jews, points out that the angels can't even start their song until we earthly beings have offered our homage.
Especially Israel. Yes, the people Israel are preferred even to the angels! Can you imagine? The Zohar tells us that when the angels, encircling the Divine Throne like fiery mountains and hills, try to get a head start on the adoration, God actually silences them. He says, in effect, "Hold on! I want to hear the songs, the praises, the prayers, and the sweet melodies of Israel first."
Think about that for a moment. The Creator of the Universe, pausing the heavenly chorus to listen to our prayers. It’s a pretty mind-blowing concept.
So, the ministering angels, and all the other celestial hosts, they have to wait. They wait until the very last echoes of Israel's doxologies (those beautiful, formal expressions of praise) have floated up from earth. Only then, in a resounding voice, do they proclaim, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts."
It's like a divine concert, with humanity as the opening act, setting the stage for the grand angelic performance.
As the hour for the angels' glorification draws near, the august Divine herald, the angel Sham'iel, whose name implies “hearing God,” plays a crucial role. According to Midrash Rabbah, Sham'iel steps to the windows of the lowest heaven to listen to the songs, prayers, and praises rising from synagogues and houses of learning – the batei midrash. When these earthly devotions are finished, Sham'iel announces the end to the angels in all the heavens, signaling that it is their turn.
Now, the ministering angels – the ones who actually interact with our world, the sublunary world – they need to purify themselves. Before they can join the higher ranks, they head to their chambers for a spiritual deep clean. They dive into a stream of fire and flame seven times, and then meticulously examine themselves three hundred and sixty-five times to ensure they're free of any taint. Only then do they feel worthy to ascend the fiery ladder and join the angels of the seventh heaven.
Finally, adorned with millions of fiery crowns, arrayed in fiery garments, all the angels in unison, in the same words, and with the same melody, intone songs of praise to God, surrounded by the Hashmal (often translated as "electrum" or "amber," a shining alloy) and the holy Hayyot (the living creatures described in Ezekiel's vision).
So, what does all this mean? It’s a reminder that our prayers, our songs, our acts of devotion, have a profound impact. They resonate not just here on Earth, but throughout the cosmos. They're a vital part of the divine symphony, so much so that even the angels wait to hear our voices raised in praise. It’s a powerful thought, isn’t it?