In this thoroughly provocative book, the late Eugene Seaich made a detailed study of the intractable mystery of the Jerusalem temple. Using historical sources and ingenious detective work, Seaich suggested that the cherubim in Solomon's temple were portrayed in a copulatory embrace. Aware that this thesis was not entirely novel, the author built a substantial case in its favor and traced the influence of the atonement (at-one-ment) theology behind the concept through the periods of Israel's wisdom school, into the New Testament and Gnostic sources, up through the Middle Ages.
Modern Christianity and Judaism have “largely forgotten these ancient roots of their belief” (p. 3). What are these “ancient roots”? They are the mysteries of creation, love, sex, and the union between man and woman as portrayed by the male and female cherubim in the Holy of Holies in the Jerusalem temple. Seaich goes into the literature of the ancients to prove his point.
Ginzburg (p. 7) notes that “the heads of the Cherubim were slightly turned back… as a token of God’s delight in his people Israel, the faces of the Cherubim, by a miracle, ‘looked one to another’ whenever Israel were devoted to their Lord, yea, even clasped one another like a loving couple.” Seaich cites Patai in that the Cherubim were refashioned to portray themselves as in a procreative act (p. 7, Patai, The Hebrew Goddess, p. 101, 300-310).
The Cherubim were seen as symbols of God’s male-female image (p. 13-17), as God’s marriage to Israel (p. 17-19), and as a pattern of how human marriages should be (p. 19-22).
The sacred name of Yahweh can be seen as being related to family. We read (p. 20-21), “Thus, the Zohar defined the “spreading of the radiance of the Sacred Name” as the command to “multiply and replenish the earth,” and the four letters of God’s Name (YHWH) came to stand for the primal Tetrad of “Father-Mother-Son-and-Daughter,” or the ongoing process by which life emerges from God, passes to his female counterpart, and is then “begotten” into male and female offspring, who are commanded to repeat the procedure (Zohar III:65b; III:290a-b).”
Seaich goes on to quote Philo extensively. For Philo, wisdom was entering into a relationship with God, a union, whereby one was deified (p. 39). Philo mentions that this “mystery” was commonplace to his hearers (p. 40). Philo did have a view that man was androgynous, meaning both male and female (p. 47-49), but that in seeking his partner, mankind is seeking his missing half. For Philo, seeing the Cherubim was akin to “seeing the face of God,” as they were mirrors of wisdom (p. 60). Philo sees that mankind is a ”divine fragment” (p. 61) which has extended himself from God, and that we are pilgrims upon this earth, not meant to stay here.
Patai theorized that the Cherubim were redesigned in their “late erotic form sometime during the first half of the third century B.C., when Hellenistic art-forms and literary conventions were first accepted into Jewish worship (p. 81).
Seaich spends considerable time arguing that the Gnostics were more closely aligned with original Christianity than Orthodox Christianity. He quotes the Gospel of Thomas parts where we read of the women becoming males and “when the two shall be one, and the outside the inside, and the male with the female, neither male nor female” that there is a union with Jesus, and that this union “begets” divine sonship (p. 100-101). This is what is meant by “entering the bridal chamber” of the Gnostics, or their version of the Holy of Holies. These individuals become “sons of the bridal chamber” and are embraced and ritually kissed (p. 103).
Seaich demonstrates how the early Christians saw Wisdom as the Holy Spirit and as a mother or bride figure (p. 189-191). He gets into the agape feasts of the early Christians (p. 204-205), “becoming male” by becoming “one” with the Redeemer (p. 209), and how the sexual unions of believers was tied into bestowing the “germ of light” (p. 210), as well as how Justin Martyr viewed the patriarch Jacob’s polygamy as “a great mystery” (p. 211).
Seaich places one of his main arguments in this chapter: “It is indeed true that the Jerusalem temple had disappeared from history in AD 70 and that whatever recollection people had of its rites had to be transformed into new cultic dress, as we saw in the case of baptism.” (p. 232)
The early Christian father Origen continually referred to the mysteries, but said “It is good to conceal the treasures of the King” (p. 234). It is remarkable that both Clement and Origen kept referring back to the Embracing Cherubim in the Holy of Holies as symbols of their “true Gnosis.” (p. 234)
Seaich notes that the later Christian constructions of chapels mimicked the tripartite structure of the Jerusalem temple (p. 241), with the sanctuary cut off from the main room (Hekal) by a veil (p. 241).
Like influences like (p. 281), and the Gnostics believed that “What you see you shall become” (p. 281), and in many ways, this ties us back to the embracing Cherubim. God wants (in the Gnostic view) to bring mankind into his procreative and generative power, and thus enable man in union with him to become deified. One “saw” God reflected in the image of the embracing Cherubim (p. 285), and the mirrored bridal chamber of the Gnostics reflected this belief (p. 285).
His conclusion has a great summation of his arguments. “The basic premise of this ancient tradition was that men are not saved by sacrificial offerings, or by the substitution of scapegoats, but by uniting with God and sharing his power. It came into Jewish Christianity as the mystery of “marriage” to Jesus/Wisdom, during which God and man become “one flesh” and “one spirit” (Eph. 5.31; 1 Cor. 6.17). Yet in all of its metamorphoses, the “Great Mystery” rested on the premise that men were derived from God and that their destiny is to be reunited with him (p. 452).