That was life under Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king who loomed over the ancient world like a thundercloud. But even the longest storms eventually break.

After forty years – a reign as long as King David's, no less! – Nebuchadnezzar finally died. Can you imagine the collective sigh of relief? The Zohar tells us that his death brought hope and joy to many. His severity had been so extreme that no one dared laugh in his presence. Even the denizens of Sheol, the underworld, trembled at his arrival, fearing he'd come to rule them too! But a heavenly voice, according to the legend, set things straight: "Go down, and be thou laid down with the uncircumcised." A rather ignominious end for such a powerful figure, wouldn't you say?

And the story of his burial? It's… well, it's something else entirely. It gets pretty dark. You see, there's this whole episode where Nebuchadnezzar goes a little... wild. He spends seven years living among the beasts. Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews picks up this thread and it’s wild! During that time, his son, Evil-merodach, ruled in his place. But when Nebuchadnezzar returned, having apparently learned a lesson or two, he wasn't exactly grateful. Instead, he locked his son away for life.

So, fast forward to Nebuchadnezzar's actual death. Evil-merodach is understandably a little paranoid. The nobles come to him, offering homage as the new king, but he refuses! He's convinced it's a trick. He fears his father isn't really dead, that he's just vanished again, ready to reappear and reclaim the throne. Who could blame him?

Now, here's where the story takes a truly gruesome turn. To convince Evil-merodach that his father was genuinely, definitively dead, Nebuchadnezzar's enemies did something… extreme. They mutilated his corpse – horribly, brutally mutilated it – and dragged it through the streets. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, this was done to demonstrate beyond any doubt that the tyrant was gone for good.

It's a chilling image, isn't it? A powerful king, reduced to such a state. But perhaps, in a strange way, it's a reminder that even the mightiest rulers are ultimately mortal, and that their actions have consequences that can outlive them in truly terrible ways. What does it say about Nebuchadnezzar's reign that such a gruesome display was necessary to finally put his son's fears – and the nation's – to rest?