Book of Jubilees
The Book of Jubilees is an apocryphal retelling of events from the Books of Genesis and Exodus, presented as an angel’s revelation to Moses as Moses ascends Mount Sinai. Composed in the 2nd century BCE, it divides history into periods of 49 years (hence the title “Jubilees,” which in a biblical context refers to the end of a 49 year period) and provides dates for biblical events. While parts of the book are in line with biblical narrative, much of it contains additions, gaps, or alternative explanations to biblical stories and laws.
- An introduction to the theme of the book. We encounter Moses on Mt. Sinai, as God basically says, “Look, you guys are going to do what you guys are going to do. You’re going to stray from my path, you’re going to worship other Gods, like gentiles, you’re going to do bad stuff. But eventually, with the books I’m giving you, like the Torah and the commandments, you’ll find your way back to me, and we’ll build a better world together.” Then he instructs “the angel of presence” to create a book for Moses that outlines the history of creation and how it led to the founding of the Jewish people.
- We start to see the differences between the canonical and non-canonical stories immediately. We’re on the Creation story, and first off, God is not dictating directly to Moses, but an angel is. Second, there’s a huge expansion of the cosmic, supernatural hierarchy that doesn’t appear in the Torah. We have a litany of different angels, and a whole celestial bureaucracy, whereas in the Torah version, angels are not even mentioned. And while sea monsters are briefly mentioned in Genesis 1-2, here they are named and detailed. It’s a very expanded outline of the Creation myth, with a lot more myth to it.
- We’ve got quite the detailed timeline versus Genesis 2 – 3. Whereas in the Torah, it seems as if Adam was created in the Garden of Eden, Eve was added right away, then there were animals to name, and then the snake, tree, and nakedness thing all happen in quick succession. Instead, in Jubilee, the garden doesn’t show up until God realizes Adam needs a decent spot to live, Eve isn’t brought in for weeks or months, to keep him company, and then the whole snake and tree debacle doesn’t occur for another seven years, and then Eve doesn’t even get named until after they’re out of the garden, before that she was just an unnamed companion, oh, and then for the first time, after being kicked out, they have sex.
- For centuries, readers have squinted at Genesis and wondered: if Adam and Eve were the first humans, who did their kids marry? Jubilees answers with all the subtlety of a blunt instrument – siblings (who were never mentioned or named in the Torah). Cain marries his sister ‘Awan, Seth marries his sister ‘Azura, and the family tree becomes a straight line of brother‑sister couplings. It’s a litany of incest that feels more like bureaucratic gap‑filling than inspired narrative. And what of the sisters who don’t get paired off, like Abel’s twin? They vanish into silence, erased once they’ve served their purpose as proof of possibility. The text isn’t interested in their stories, only in keeping the lineage machine running. No wonder this is in the Apocrypha.
- Angels Gone Wild: Boys’ Club Edition. Heavenly beings see human women, grab them without consent, and produce giants who promptly unleash chaos. God’s fix is darkly comic. He hands them swords and lets them slaughter each other until none remain, then buries the angels underground in a proto‑Hell. Noah is commissioned to build an ark, but here it’s stripped down: no “two by two,” no seven pairs, no mention of his wife or daughters, just sons and animals floating for a year in the world’s longest quarantine. The whole thing reads less like family survival and more like cosmic pest control, with holiness reduced to a mop‑up operation after heaven’s hookup culture goes off the rails.
- The post‑Flood drama unfolds quickly: Noah lets the animals loose, but keeps a few back for sacrifice, making altar‑building his first order of business. God responds with an eternal covenant – no more world‑destroying floods – on condition that humans refrain from eating blood, a precursor to kosher slaughter laws, and seals it with the rainbow. There’s feasting (though with only Noah and his sons, it’s more family dinner than banquet), a conspicuous silence about wives or daughters, and then a prophetic rant: Israel will forget the covenant, drift into gentile ways, and lose its path, but eventually stumble back toward fidelity. In short, it’s covenant, rainbow, feast, missing women, and a long forecast of spiritual amnesia with a promised return.
- Noah’s story continues, and boils down to Noah creating wine, getting drunk, and sparking a family scandal so awkward the text won’t spell it out. He disowns his youngest son, three brothers walk out in protest, and suddenly the clan splinters into new communities. Then the narrative pivots into theology: God and Noah revisit the Flood, blaming not just human corruption but those buried former angels still whispering temptation. In short, it’s hangovers, family drama, and cosmic evil rolled into one, and Noah’s vineyard becomes the stage where shame at home mirrors humanity’s ongoing failure to resist corruption.
- Kâinâm, grandson of Noah, finds rock-carved inscriptions containing the forbidden astrology of the Watchers, angelic rebels who once corrupted humanity with celestial secrets. By transcribing them he “sins,” reviving knowledge meant to be buried after the Flood. The rest of the chapter divides the world among Noah’s sons, but the opening scene reminds us that dangerous wisdom lingers in the world, waiting to destabilize order. A little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing.