(Caution: it's not recommended to read the name ashm edai name we will call him Ashy for short)
Imagine being so wise that you could outsmart even the king of demons. That’s exactly what King Solomon, the famous biblical monarch, did—or at least he tried. But as the Talmud teaches us, even the wisest can stumble, especially when dealing with the supernatural. Let’s take a stroll through this curious tale from the Talmud, where wisdom meets the unexpected, and demons play by some surprisingly strict rules.
Here’s the setup. Solomon, known far and wide for his wisdom, is deep into one of his most ambitious projects: building the Temple in Jerusalem. Everything’s going great, except for one thing—he needs a little creature called the shamir. Now, the shamir isn’t your average worm; this little guy is the stuff of legends. According to the Talmud in Gittin 68a, the shamir has the miraculous ability to cut through the toughest stone without breaking a sweat. But what exactly is the shamir?
What is the Shamir?
The shamir is a legendary creature in Jewish lore, often described as a small, worm-like being with extraordinary powers. Unlike ordinary tools or creatures, the shamir possesses the unique ability to carve or split stones without the need for metal tools, which were forbidden for use in constructing the Holy Temple. This miraculous ability made the shamir indispensable for Solomon’s grand architectural plans.
The shamir is not just a tool but almost a living entity with its own will and purpose. In some traditions, it's depicted as a tiny creature that can be harnessed through divine means, while in others, it's viewed more metaphorically, representing divine inspiration and supernatural assistance granted to Solomon. The Talmud emphasizes its uniqueness and the fact that it cannot be replicated or replaced by any other means, highlighting the divine intervention in the construction of the Temple.
So, why couldn’t Solomon just use regular tools? According to tradition, the use of metal tools would defile the stones meant for the Temple, which needed to remain untouched by anything that could taint their purity. The shamir, with its divine origin, provided a pure and sacred method to shape the stones appropriately. However, obtaining and controlling such a mystical creature was no small feat, which brings us to the next player in our story: Ashy, the demon king.
Solomon knows that if anyone can get the shamir, it’s Ashy. But capturing the king of demons isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Solomon needs a plan—and a really good one at that. This is where Benaiah ben Jehoiada, Solomon’s trusted advisor, comes into play. Solomon sends Benaiah out with a magical chain and a ring, both engraved with HaShem’s name. This isn’t just any bling; it’s demon-proof bling. Armed with these tools, Benaiah tracks down Ashy. But how do you capture a demon who’s likely seen every trick in the book? Wine.
Capturing a demon king is no small task, so Solomon turned to his trusted advisor, Benaiah ben Jehoiada. Benaiah was equipped with a magical chain and a ring, both inscribed with HaShem’s name—tools that could bind even the most powerful supernatural beings. But Benaiah knew that approaching Ashy directly wouldn’t be easy. Ashy was a wily and powerful demon, and Benaiah needed to be clever to catch him off guard.
Here’s where the real trickery comes into play. The Talmud describes how Ashy had a daily routine that involved some rather peculiar habits. Each day, he would climb up to the heavens to study in the celestial yeshiva (study hall) and then descend to the earth to continue his studies in the earthly yeshiva. In between, he would stop by his personal pit—a place he had sealed with his own seal, filled with water, and covered with a large rock. This pit was his private stash of water, which he would drink from after verifying that the seal had not been tampered with.
Benaiah knew about this routine and devised a plan. First, he dug a pit lower down the mountain, directly beneath Ashy’s water source. Then, he dug another pit higher up the mountain. Benaiah drained the water from Ashy’s pit into the lower pit and then filled the upper pit with wine, carefully sealing it to prevent the aroma from escaping. Finally, he covered the opening of Ashy’s pit with a thin layer of fleece, so the wine would slowly seep into the original pit without disturbing the seal.
When Ashy returned from his studies and checked the seal, he found it intact. Satisfied that no one had tampered with his water, he uncovered the pit, expecting a refreshing drink. But instead of water, he found wine.
Now, demons, as the Talmud tells us, typically avoid alcohol. Wine has the power to weaken them, cloud their judgment, and make them vulnerable. Ashy was no fool; he knew this. At first, he resisted, quoting Scripture to remind himself of the dangers of wine. Proverbs 20:1 says, “Wine is a mocker, strong drink is riotous; and whosoever wallows in it is not wise,” and Hosea 4:11 says, “Harlotry, wine, and new wine take away the heart.”
But here’s the thing—Ashy was thirsty, and that wine was right there. The Talmud humorously notes that after some time, Ashy’s resolve weakened. The temptation grew too strong, and eventually, he succumbed to his thirst and drank the wine. As expected, the wine had its effect. Ashy became intoxicated, his supernatural strength and awareness diminished, and he fell into a deep sleep.
This was the moment Benaiah had been waiting for. While Ashy was knocked out from the wine, Benaiah descended from his hiding place, quickly approached the demon king, and threw the magical chain around him. The chain, engraved with HaShem’s name, instantly bound Ashy, rendering him powerless. When Ashy awoke and tried to struggle, Benaiah invoked the name of HaShem, reminding Ashy that he was now bound by divine authority and had no choice but to comply.
Benaiah hauls Ashy back to Solomon, and now Solomon has a powerful demon at his disposal. Most kings would probably just lock the demon away, but not Solomon. He’s got work to do, and Ashy, like it or not, is going to help. Solomon orders Ashy to fetch the shamir, and after some initial grumbling (because, let’s face it, nobody likes being an errand boy), Ashy agrees. He’s not exactly thrilled, but hey, he’s under contract—literally (Gittin 68b).
But why stop there? Let’s get back to the shamir.
Once Ashy retrieves the shamir, Solomon uses it to cut the stones for the Temple without breaking any sacred rules. The shamir works its magic, and the Temple begins to take shape, stone by stone, each one perfectly carved without a hint of metal. Mission accomplished, right? Well, not so fast. Just when things seem to be going perfectly, Solomon makes a classic blunder. Feeling a bit too confident in his control over Ashy, Solomon hands over his magic ring to the demon. This ring isn’t just a symbol of power; it’s what’s been keeping Ashy in check. And just like that, the tables turn.
Ashy, no longer bound by the ring, doesn’t waste a second. In what must have been a jaw-dropping moment, Ashy sends Solomon flying a thousand miles away. Suddenly, the wisest king in history is stranded, and Ashy is sitting pretty on the throne in Jerusalem. The Talmud, still in Gittin 68b, gives us a glimpse into this bizarre situation: a demon king ruling over Israel, probably chuckling to himself about how he pulled one over on Solomon.
But here’s where it gets even more interesting. Ashy, despite being a demon, doesn’t immediately unleash chaos. Instead, he tries to keep things running smoothly, as if he’s trying his hand at being king. It’s almost like Ashy is saying, “Hey, I can do this too.” But being a demon, he can’t keep up the charade for long. People start to notice something’s off—this “Solomon” isn’t acting like the wise ruler they know. Meanwhile, the real Solomon is out there, wandering who knows where, probably regretting that whole ring thing.
Now, while Ashy is playing the part of king, the Talmud adds another layer to his character in Pesachim 110a. Rav Yosef shares that Yosef the Demon once told him something interesting: Ashy is actually a king who is appointed over all those who perform actions in pairs, and typically, a king—whether human or demon—is not considered harmful. However, there’s a twist. Some say that Ashy is an angry king, doing what he pleases, because, just like any king, he can break down barriers to make his own path, and no one can stop him. So while Ashy might not always be out to harm, when he’s in charge, you better watch out—he plays by his own rules.
The Talmud doesn’t dive into all the details of Solomon’s exile, but the message is clear: even the wisest among us can make mistakes, especially when we get too comfortable. Eventually, through a series of adventures that are a bit more obscure in the texts, Solomon gets his ring back. He returns to Jerusalem, reclaims his throne, and sends Ashy packing back to the demon realm. With his ring and authority restored, Solomon resumes his reign, but the encounter leaves a lasting impression—not just on Solomon, but on everyone who hears the story.
So, what can we take away from this tale of supernatural hijinks and royal missteps?
First, it’s a humbling reminder that even when you’re the smartest person in the room—or in Solomon’s case, the entire kingdom—you’re not immune to making a bad call. Solomon’s story with Ashy is a classic tale of overconfidence leading to a downfall. Even the wisest can slip up when they start to believe they’ve got everything under control. It’s a sobering lesson wrapped up in a tale of magic and demons.
Secondly, this story gives us a fascinating glimpse into how even beings like Ashy, with all their power and mischief, are still bound by certain rules. Ashy might be the king of demons, but he’s not all-powerful. When Solomon has the ring and the chain, Ashy has no choice but to obey. But the moment those symbols of control are gone, Ashy is free to wreak havoc. It’s a powerful metaphor for how the things that give us control can also become our weaknesses if we’re not careful.
Lastly, this Talmudic tale is just plain entertaining. It’s got everything: a wise king, a tricky demon, magical artifacts, and a dramatic twist. But beyond the entertainment, it offers deeper reflections on human nature, power, and the unexpected ways things can go sideways—even for someone as wise as Solomon.
So, the next time you’re feeling like you’ve got everything under control, think back to Solomon and Ashy. Remember that even the wisest can be outsmarted, and that sometimes, the very things that give us power can also trip us up. And if you ever find yourself dealing with a metaphorical (or literal) demon, keep a close eye on your magic ring. You never know when things might take a turn you didn’t see coming.
In the end, Solomon got his throne back, Ashy got a taste of royal life (for better or worse), and we got a story that’s as entertaining as it is enlightening. The Talmud may be full of deep philosophical ideas and complex laws, but sometimes, it’s also about the simple truth that even a wise king can learn the hard way: never underestimate a demon with a taste for mischief and a good loophole. And maybe, just maybe, don’t give your magic ring to a demon, no matter how much you think you’ve got them under control.
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