The terrifying creature sinks its fangs into human flesh, felling its prey. The camera pans out. Oh god, the horror — it’s a whole pack, and they’re laying waste to multitudes. People fall to the ground, some writhing in pain while clinging to life, but so many already dead. The creatures keep on coming.
These creatures aren’t horror-film favorites — but maybe they should be. Readers, meet the seraphim. In this scene (Numbers 21:6 – 9), God sends these venomous “seraphim-snakes” to attack the Israelites wandering in the desert. Seraphim show up in another form in heaven, with six wings, human hands, and the power of speech (Isaiah 6:1 – 6).
The monsters of modern lore, Greek mythology, and everything in between continue to scare and delight us with their strange forms and thrilling stories. But they’ve got nothing on the monsters of the Bible.
I’ve always been drawn to the mysterious and eerie – to tales of monsters. Encountering bizarre creatures shifts me into a space of imagining more of what lies beyond my realm of knowledge. When vampire and zombie shows are scary, it’s a good kind of scary — they offer a controlled environment for safe exploration of fear.
The Bible does no such thing. This is because the most terrifying monsters of the Bible aren’t the ones God conquers, bashing sea monsters on the head and helping Israelites slay giants. The monsters in the Bible that attack, injure, and kill the most people aren’t God’s opponents — they’re God’s entourage.
For example, cherubim aren’t the happy, fat baby angels of Renaissance paintings and Hallmark cards. They’re menacing, winged hybrid creatures that guard sacred spaces. When that space is violated, all hell breaks loose. The Bible also features mind-altering spirits which God deploys to gaslight people (e.g., 1 Kings 22, 2 Kings 19:6 – 7), and plague demons marching into battle in God’s infantry (Habakkuk 3:5). God’s demons get masked in translation as natural phenomena, but in several cases we know their names from the literature of ancient Israel’s neighbors. And don’t get me started on God’s entourage of killer angels.
It would be convenient if we could explain away this astounding divine violence. Surely we can tie it up with a shiny theological bow. Maybe we could blame the human beings each time, and justify God siccing an array of monsters on people as being divinely inscrutable?
No dice. That’s what’s so uncomfortable about these texts — though if you bear with me, you’ll see it’s also where I end up finding unique value in them — there’s no way to look squarely at what’s happening in them and make it okay.
The wandering Israelites in that first scene were, at worst, expressing doubt. God kills them for it. They lamented that they were dying in the wilderness — and, to be fair, they were. But God says, essentially, “I’ll show you death in the wilderness,” and sends an army of seraphim-snakes to poison them. Many people die, and for anyone who’s only in the agonizing process of dying, if they want to survive they have to look up at a bronze seraph on a pole, a figurine of the very creature God had just deployed against them. It’s quite a divine flex.
When vampire and zombie shows are scary, it’s a good kind of scary — they offer a controlled environment for safe exploration of fear.
Other attacks by God’s monsters are just as hard to tie up with a pretty theological bow. A massive angel extending a supernatural sword over all of Jerusalem threatens the entire population of the city with pestilence — even though its people are explicitly named as innocent bystanders to King David’s wrongdoing. I’ve heard enough pious explanations of how God tells the angel to cease and desist at this point in the story. The sword-wielding, pestilence-shooting angel has already taken out 70,000 innocent people at God’s command (1 Chronicles 21:11 – 16). People tend to point to the book of Job as containing probing questions of divine injustice (and we encounter a good number of monsters there too). But there could be 70,000 such books stemming from this Chronicles story alone. I imagine every one of those families feeling the pain, anger, betrayal, and shock that Job felt.
Over several years of writing a book on biblical monsters, I spoke with countless people who assumed this challenging issue must be limited to the Hebrew Bible. Far from it. Like replacing the drab underworld of the Hebrew Bible (Sheol) with eternal torture in the flames of a newly conceived hell, the New Testament also ratchets up the violence associated with most of God’s monsters. Take the cherubim, for instance. In the Hebrew Bible, they stand guard at the entrance to Eden, their statues protect gateways to sacred space in the tabernacle and temple, and they usher God across the threshold of the temple (Exodus 25:10 – 22; 1 Kings 6:23 – 35, 8:6 – 7; Ezekiel 10 – 11). In Revelation, they still guard cosmic gateways, but now they use that position to usher the four horsemen through to ravage the earth (Revelation 6:1 – 8). Soon after, they also hand plague-bowls over to angels to pour down on the earth and decimate massive portions of the population (Revelation 15:7).
But as horrifying as all of this is, it offers something that the prettier, safer texts don’t. The Bible, as a rich anthology reflecting diverse perspectives, includes writing that rejects any possibility of a neat, pat worldview in which God will magically make everything fine. What’s more, they show a God responsible for making things very much not fine, even for the innocent. This, too, is part of biblical tradition.
It was during a period of intense grief that I first began contemplating the monsters of the Bible. I had once looked for solace in the Bible’s more obvious places — psalms of hope and reassurance, stories of safety and rescue. I immersed myself in uplifting texts from my own Jewish tradition and from other traditions. But reeling in bereaved shock, I found myself connecting more with a collection of ancient voices reverberating with the acknowledgment that life is precarious, unjust, and at times monstrous.
I love a good monster movie or TV show, not just for that spooky flutter and catharsis, but for the recognition that we live in a disturbing, incomprehensible world. The Bible’s unsettling monster stories express this too. The ancient writers’ reflections on what it is to live in a world of danger, grief, and fear range from poignant to downright horrifying. These reflections, even at their most imaginative, validate grim realities of the human experience. This Halloween, instead of taming the Bible’s monsters and settling for a neater, flatter picture, take a dip into the richness of the ancient literature and get up close and personal with a monstrous member of God’s entourage.
Esther J. Hamori teaches the popular class “Monster Heaven” at Union Theological Seminary in New York, where she is a professor of Hebrew Bible. Specializing in biblical concepts of divine-human contact, and a lifelong devotee of all that is eerie, she is the author of Women’s Divination in Biblical Literature: Prophecy, Necromancy, and Other Arts of Knowledge, among other works. She has a PhD in Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East from New York University and an MDiv from Yale Divinity School.