Несколько последних постов в этом журнале были посвящены демонологии. Продолжая эту небезопасную для читателей и автора тему хочу предложить на суд аудитории мою новую статью (к сожалению без ссылок) выходящую в фестшрифте одного профессора Иерусалимского Университета - сборнике редактируемом мною и Дафной Арбел, который скоро будет опубликован в немецком издательстве De Gryeter.
 
Статья посвящена загадочной традиции из Славянского Откровения Авраама в которой говорится о том что великий противник Бога способен создать свой план и даже место своего возвышения - свой престол по образу и подобию Божиему....
 

  Andrei A. Orlov
Marquette University

“The Likeness of Heaven”:
Kavod of Azazel in the Apocalypse of Abraham

Introduction

Chapter 14 of the Apocalypse of Abraham, a Jewish pseudepigraphon written in the first centuries CE, unveils an enigmatic tradition about the unusual power given to the main antagonist of the story, the fallen angel Azazel.  In the text, Abraham’s celestial guide, the angel Yahoel, warns his human apprentice, the hero of the faith, that God endowed his chief eschatological opponent Azazel with a special will and with “heaviness” against those who answer him. The reference to the mysterious “heaviness” (Slav. тягота) given to the demon has puzzled students of the Slavonic apocalypse for a long time.  Ryszard Rubinkiewicz  has previously suggested that the Slavonic term for “heaviness” (тягота) in this passage from Apoc. Ab. 14:13 possibly serves as a technical term for rendering the Hebrew word Kavod.  Rubinkiewicz has further proposed that the original text most likely had kavod, which has the sense of “gravity” but also “glory,” and had the following rendering: “the Eternal One … to him [Azazel] he gave the glory and power.” According to Rubinkiewicz, this ambiguity lays at the basis of the Slavonic translation of the verse. 
 

It is quite possible that, given the formative influences the Book of Ezekiel exercises on the Apocalypse of Abraham,  the authors of the text might indeed have known the Kavod technical terminology, which plays such an important role in the great prophetic book. Yet the transference of this peculiar theophanic imagery to an ambiguous character of the story is quite puzzling since the Kavod symbolism represents a very distinctive attribute reserved in the Jewish biblical and pseudepigraphic traditions almost exclusively for the celestial and translated agents to signal their divine status. Could this strange tradition about the glory of Azazel suggest that the authors of the Slavonic apocalypse sought to envision the fallen angel as a kind of negative counterpart of the Deity who enjoys his own “exalted” attributes that mimic and emulate divine attributes?
A closer look at the pseudepigraphon reveals that such a dualistically symmetrical symbolism is not only confined to the description of the fallen angel and his unusual attributes. It also represents one of the main ideological tendencies of the Slavonic apocalypse. Several scholars have previously noted this peculiarity of the theological universe of the Slavonic apocalypse, which unveils the paradoxical symmetry of good and evil realms: the domains which, in the Abrahamic pseudepigraphon, seem depicted as emulating and mirroring each other.
It has been previously argued that the striking prevalence of such dualistic symmetrical patterns permeating the fabric of the Apocalypse of Abraham can be seen as one of the most controversial and puzzling features of the text.  It should be noted that the dualistic currents are present mostly in the second, apocalyptic portion of the text where the hero of the faith receives an enigmatic revelation from the Deity about the unusual powers given to Azazel.
Reflecting on these conceptual developments, Michael Stone draws attention to the traditions found in chapters 20, 22, and 29, where the reference to Azazel’s rule, which he exercises jointly with God over the world coincides “with the idea that God granted him authority over the wicked.”  Stone suggests that “these ideas are clearly dualistic in nature.”
John Collins explores another cluster of peculiar depictions repeatedly found in the second part of the Apocalypse, in which humankind is divided into two parts, half on the right and half on the left, representing respectively the chosen people and the Gentiles. These portions of humanity are labeled in the text as the lot of God and the lot of Azazel. Collins argues that “the symmetrical division suggests a dualistic view of the world.”  He further observes that “the nature and extent of this dualism constitute the most controversial problem in the Apocalypse of Abraham.” 
Ryszard Rubinkiewicz, while denying the presence of “absolute” or “ontological”  dualism in the Apocalypse of  Abraham, admits that the pseudepigraphon exhibits some dualistic tendencies in its ethical, spatial and temporal dimensions.
Yet, in contrast to Rubinkiewicz’s opinion, George Box sees in these spatial and temporal dimensions the main signs of the “radical dualism” of the apocalypse. He maintains that “the radical dualism of the Book comes out not only in the sharp division of mankind into two hosts, which stands for Jewry and heathendom respectively, but also in the clearly defined contradistinction of two ages, the present Age of ungodliness and the future Age of righteousness ….”  
Another distinguished student of the Slavonic text, Marc Philonenko, in his analysis of the symmetrical nature of the positions of Yahoel and Azazel  notes the peculiarity of the interaction between these two spirits, one good and one malevolent. He observes that their battle does not occur directly, but rather through a medium of a human being, Abraham. Abraham is thus envisioned in the pseudepigraphon as a place where the battle between two spiritual forces is unfolded.  Philonenko sees in this anthropological internalization a peculiar mold of the dualism that is also present in the Qumran materials, including the Instruction on the Two Spirits (1QS 3:13 - 4:26) where the Prince of Lights and the Angel of Darkness are fighting in the heart of man.
The aforementioned scholarly suggestions about the dualistic tendencies of the apocalypse, which seems to envision a symmetrical correspondence between the divine and demonic realms, the worlds of God and of Azazel, are intriguing and deserve further investigation. The current study will attempt to explore some dualistic symmetrical patterns found in the Slavonic pseudepigraphon, concentrating mainly on the peculiar theophanic imagery surrounding the figure of the main antagonist of the text, the demon Azazel.

The Inheritance of Azazel

The traditions about the two eschatological lots or portions of humanity found in the second part of the text have captivated the imagination of Slavonic apocalypse scholars for a long time. In these fascinating descriptions, students of the Abrahamic peudepigraphon have often tried to discern possible connections with the dualistic developments found in some Qumran materials, where the imagery of the two eschatological lots played a significant role. Indeed, in the Dead Sea Scrolls one can find a broad appropriation of the imagery of the two portions of humanity which are often depicted there in striking opposition to each other in the final decisive battle. It has been frequently noted that the peculiar symbolism of the eschatolological parties often takes the form of dualistic symmetrical counterparts, as these groups are repeatedly described in the Dead Sea Scrolls, through metaphoric depictions involving the dichotomies of darkness and light, good and evil, election and rejection. This dualistic “mirroring” is also often underscored by the symbolic profiles of the main leaders of the eschatological “lots,” whose peculiar sobriquets often negatively or positively reflect, or even polemically deconstruct, the names of their respective eschatological rivals: Melchizedek and Melchirešac, the Angel of Light and the Prince of Darkness.
The peculiar imagery of the eschatological portions of humanity is also manifested in the Apocalypse of Abraham. Graphic depictions of the two lots are widely dispersed in the second, apocalyptic, part of the pseudepigraphon. Scholars have previously noted that the peculiar conceptual elaborations that surround these portrayals of the portions appear to be reminiscent not only of the eschatological reinterpretations and terminology found in the Qumran materials,  but also of the peculiar imagery of sacrificial lots prominent in the Yom Kippur ritual,  the ordinance described in detail in the biblical and rabbinic accounts.   Thus it has been previously observed that the word “lot” (Slav. часть) found in the Slavonic text appears to be connected to the Hebrew lrwg, a term prominent in some cultic descriptions found in biblical and rabbinic accounts,  as well as in the eschatological developments attested in the Qumran materials.
Similar to the Qumran materials where the lots are linked to the fallen angelic figures or translated heroes (like Belial or Melchizedek), in the Apocalypse of Abraham the portions of humanity are now tied to the main characters of the story – the fallen angel Azazel  and the translated patriarch Abraham.
It is also noteworthy that in the Apocalypse of Abraham, similar to the Qumran materials,  the positive lot is designated sometimes as the lot of the Deity - “my [God’s] lot”:
And the Eternal Mighty One said to me, “Abraham, Abraham!” And I said, “Here am I!” And he said, “Look from on high at the stars which are beneath you and count them for me and tell me their number!” And I said, “Would I be able? For I am [but] a man.” And he said to me, “As the number of the stars and their host, so shall I make your seed into a company of nations, set apart for me in my lot with Azazel.” 

While the similarities of the Apocalypse of Abraham with the Qumran materials were often noted and highlighted in previous scholarly studies, the differences in the descriptions of the eschatological lots and their respective leaders have often been neglected. Yet, it is quite possible that the dualistic imagery of the eschatological portions might receive an even more radical form in the Slavonic apocalypse than in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Indeed, it seems that the Slavonic pseudepigraphon attempts to transfer to the antagonist and to his lot some of the notions and attributes which in the Qumran materials remain reserved solely for the domain of the positive portion of humanity. One such notion includes the concept of “inheritance,” the term that plays an important role both in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Slavonic apocalypse.
Thus, the passage found in chapter 14 of the pseudepigraphon unveils the following enigmatic tradition about the very special “inheritance” given to the fallen angel Azazel:

Since your inheritance (достояние твое) are those who are with you, with men born with the stars and clouds. And their portion is you (ихъже часть еси ты).

The striking feature of this account is that in Apoc. Ab. 14:6 the concept of the eschatological “lot” or “portion” (Slav. часть)  of Azazel appears to be used interchangeably with the notion of “inheritance” (Slav. достояние).
This terminological connection is intriguing since the two notions, “inheritance” and “lot,” are also used interchangeably in the Qumran passages that deal with the “lot” imagery. Thus, for example, 11Q13 speaks about “inheritance” referring to the portion of Melchizedek that will be victorious in the eschatological ordeal:
…and from the inheritance of Melchizedek, fo[r…] … and they are the inherita[nce of Melchize]dek, who will make them return. And the d[ay of aton]ement is the e[nd of] the tenth [ju]bilee in which atonement shall be made for all the sons of [light and] for the men [of] the lot of Mel[chi]zedek.

In 1QS 3:13 - 4:26, in the fragment also known as the Instruction on the Two Spirits the imagery of inheritance is tied to the concept of the lot of the righteous:
 … they walk in wisdom or in folly. In agreement with man’s inheritance in the truth, he shall be righteous and so abhor injustice; and according to his share in the lot of injustice, he shall act wickedly in it, and so abhor the truth.

In 1QS 11:7-8 and CD 13:11-12 this concept of inheritance is once again connected with participation in the lot of light, also labeled in 1QS as “the lot of the holy ones”: 
To those whom God has selected he has given them as everlasting possession; and he has given them an inheritance in the lot of the holy ones. (1QS 11:7-8)

And everyone who joins his congregation, he should examine, concerning his actions, his intelligence, his strength, his courage and his wealth; and they shall inscribe him in his place according to his inheritance in the lot of light. (CD-A 13:11-12).

In these last two texts the concept of “inheritance” appears to be understood as the act of participation in the eschatological lot rendered through the formulae “inheritance in the lot” (Heb.  lrwgb  wtlxn).  The same idea seems to be at work in the aforementioned passage from Apoc. Ab. 14:6 where “inheritance” is understood as participation in the lot of Azazel.
Yet despite the similarities, one striking difference between these texts is discernable: while in the Qumran materials the “inheritance” appears to be connected with the divine lot, in Apoc. Ab. it is unambiguously tied to the lot of Azazel.
This transference of the notion of “inheritance”- the concept which plays such an important role in the Qumran ideology under the umbrella of the lot of Azazel in the Apoc. Ab .-  is striking. It brings the dualistic ideology of the Jewish pseudepigraphon on an entirely new conceptual level in comparison with the dualistic developments found in the Dead Sea Scrolls.
This new conceptual advancement appears also to have a strong influence on the profile of the main antagonist of the text, the fallen angel Azazel who, in comparison with the eschatological opponents of the Dead Sea Scrolls, now becomes not just one of the characters in the gallery of many eschatological opponents but the adversary par excellence.  In this respect Lester Grabbe suggests that the Apocalypse of Abraham seems to be referring to the “basic arch-demon complex under the name of Azazel.”  In his opinion, in the Slavonic apocalypse “Azazel is no longer just a leader among the fallen angels but the leader of the demons. Figures originally separate have now fallen together while the various names have become only different aliases of the one devil.”
Such mythological consolidation affecting the profile of the main eschatological opponent advances the dualistic thrust of the Slavonic apocalypse and helps to secure Azazel’s confrontational stand not only toward Yahoel and Abraham but, more importantly, toward the Deity.
 

The Theophany of Azazel

The second, apocalyptic, section of the Slavonic pseudepigraphon begins with a series of arcane portrayals unveiling the striking appearance and the spectacular offices of Abraham’s celestial guide, angel Yahoel. Yet, in comparison with these disclosures about the great celestial being, the figure of another important character in the story, the main adversary of the text, the fallen angel Azazel, is shrouded in a cluster of even more ambiguous and enigmatic descriptions. For unknown reasons, possibly viewing the arch-demon’s figure as providing one of the conceptual clues to understanding the mystery of the theological universe of the text, the authors of the pseudepigraphon appears very reluctant to unveil and clarify the exact status of their mysterious antihero, instead offering to their readers the rich tapestry of arcane traditions embroidered with the most recondite imagery that can be found in the apocalypse.
Yet despite the aura of concealment that envelops the cryptic profile of the arch-demon, the cosmic significance of this perplexing character peeps through various details of the story.  Thus, the very first lines of chapter 13, which introduce Azazel to the audience, appear to hint at him as a figure with a very special authority. His bold descend on the sacrifices of the hero of the faith does not appear coincidental; the authors of the Slavonic apocalypse may want to signal to their readers that Azazel is not merely an abandoned, demoted creature, but rather an object of worship, veneration, and sacrificial devotion, who possibly possesses an exalted status and place that negatively replicate and mimic the authority and position of the Deity.
Many previous studies have shown conceptual links between Azazel and Abraham,  as well as parallels between Azazel and Yahoel.  Yet despite the significance of these comparative studies, which have been able to clarify conceptual symmetry between positive and negative protagonists of the story, scholars have often neglected another portentous parallelism found in the text – that is, the correspondence in the roles and attributes between the Deity and the demon. The initial sign of this baffling dualistic symmetry appears already to be hinted at in the depictions of the eschatological lots, where the portion of Azazel is explicitly compared with the lot of the Almighty. Yet this juxtaposition between the fallen angel and the Divinity can be considered as rather schematic. In this correspondence between the two portions of humanity, one belonging to God and the other to the demon, one might see a merely metaphorical distinction that does not intend to match fully the status and the attributes of the Deity with the condition of Azazel; rather it simply hints at the demon’s temporary role in the eschatological opposition. A closer analysis of the text, however, reveals that the comparisons between God and Azazel have much broader conceptual ramifications that appear to transcend a purely metaphorical level, as the depictions of both characters unveil striking theophanic similarities. An important feature in this respect is the peculiar imagery of the epiphanies of both characters unfolding in the special circumstances of their fiery realms. 
It is intriguing that in the text, where the theophanic manifestations of the Deity are repeatedly portrayed as appearing in the midst of flames, the presence of Azazel is also conveyed through similar imagery.
It has been previously noted that the imagery of fire plays an important conceptual role in the Slavonic apocalypse.  It is often envisioned there as the substance predestined to examine the authenticity of things and test their eternal status. Apoc. Ab. 7:2 relates that “the fire mocks with its flames the things that perish easily.”  Both animate and inanimate characters of the story, including the infamous idols and their blasphemous makers, are depicted in the text as undergoing fiery probes – the ominous tests that often lead them into their final catastrophic demise. Thus by means of fire, the young hero of the faith “tests” the wooden stature of his father, the idol Bar-Eshath, which the flames turn into a pile of ashes. Further, the craftsmen of the idolatrous figures themselves are not exempted from the fiery probes’ scrutiny. The first haggadic section of the text concludes with the blazing ordeal during which the workshop of Terah is obliterated by fire sent by God. Later, in the second, apocalyptic, section of the work, the patriarch Abraham himself undergoes multiple fiery tests during his progress into the upper heaven. All these remarkable instances of the fiery annihilations of certain characters of the story, and miraculous survivals of others, do not appear coincidental. Scholars have previously noted that in the Apocalypse of Abraham, as in several other apocalyptic texts, including Dan 3 or Ezek 28, fire serves as the ultimate test for distinguishing  inauthentic and idolatrous representations of the Divinity from its true counterparts. In accordance with this belief, which often envisions the endurance of the “true” things in the flames, the very presence of the Deity is repeatedly portrayed in the text as situated in the stream of fire. Thus, already in chapter eight, which marks a transition to the apocalyptic section of the work and narrates the patriarch’s response to the divine call in the courtyard of Terah’s house, the divine presence is depicted as “the voice of the Mighty One” coming down in a stream of fire.  This self-disclosure of God in the midst of the theophanic furnace becomes then a standard description adopted by the author(s) of the apocalypse to convey manifestations of the Deity.
 In view of these peculiar theophanic tenets of the pseudepigraphon, it is intriguing that some eschatological manifestations of Azazel, similar to the epiphanies of the Deity, are depicted with fiery imagery.
Although in chapter 13 the patriarch sees Azazel in the form of an unclean bird, the apocalypse makes clear that this appearance does not reflect the true appearance of the demon whose proper domain is designated several times in the text as situated in the subterranean realm.  What is striking is that in the antagonist’s authentic abode, in the belly of the earth, the domicile of the great demon is fashioned with the same peculiar visual markers as the abode of the Deity – that is, as being situated in the midst of the theophanic furnace. 
Thus, in Yahoel’s speech found in chapter 14, which reveals the true place of the chief antagonist, the arch-demon’s abode is designated as the furnace of the earth.  Moreover, Azazel himself is portrayed as the “burning coal” or the “firebrand” of this infernal kiln.  This depiction of Azazel glowing in the furnace of his own domain, is intriguing. It evokes the peculiar memory of the fiery nature of the divine abode which, in the Apocalypse of Abraham, is portrayed as the upper furnace. The fiery nature of the heavenly plane is underlined multiple times in the text. It is notable that the seer’s progress into the domain of the deity is portrayed as his movement into the fiery realm. Thus, in Apoc. Ab. 15:3, the transition of the hero and his guiding angel through the boarder of heavenly realm is portrayed as an entrance into fire: “…and he carried me up to the edge of the fiery flame. And we ascended like great winds to the heaven which was fixed on the expanses.”
Then, in chapter 17, the readers again encounter this terrifying presence of the celestial furnace as the flames envelop the visionary and his celestial guide on their progress to the abode of the Deity:
  And while he was still speaking, behold, a fire was coming toward us round about, and a sound was in the fire like a sound of many waters, like a sound of the sea in its uproar (Apoc. Ab. 17:1).

In 18:1, upon his entrance into the celestial Holy of Holies, the visionary again passes another fiery threshold: “… while I was still reciting the song, the edge of the fire which was on the expanse rose up on high.”
The fiery apotheosis reaches its pinnacle in chapter 18 where the patriarch sees the Deity’s heavenly throne room. There, in the utmost concealed theophanic locale, the seer beholds the very seat of the Deity fashioned from the substance of fire: “And as the fire rose up, soaring higher, I saw under the fire a throne [made] of fire and the many-eyed Wheels” (Apoc. Ab. 18:3).  This fiery nexus of the divine presence paradoxically parallels the fiery nature of the antagonist’s subterranean abode.
This striking imagery brings us back to the Azazel tradition found in Apoc. Ab. 14:5 where, according to some scholars, the demonic presence is fashioned as the fire of Hell.   
This identification of Azazel’s essence through the imagery of the subterranean flames is intriguing in view of the aforementioned conceptual currents in which fire serves as a distinctive theophanic medium, expressing the very presence of the Deity.  Similar to the Deity who is depicted as the fire of heaven enthroned on the seat of flames, the demon is portrayed as the fire of the underworld.
In this respect it is also noteworthy that, similar to the divine Voice, the main theophanic expression of the Deity in the book, which is depicted as coming in a stream of fire, Azazel’s aural expression is also conveyed through similar fiery symbolism. Thus, Apoc. Ab. 31:5 speaks about “the fire of Azazel’s tongue” (Slav. огонь языка Азазилова): 

And those who followed after the idols and after their murders will rot in the womb of the Evil One—the belly of Azazel, and they will be burned by the fire of Azazel’s tongue (палими огнемъ языка Азазилова).

It is also interesting that, like the fire of God that destroys the idols and idolaters alike in its flames,  the fire issuing from Azazel has power to destroy those who “follow after the idols.”  Though it is not entirely clear in this context if the fire of Azazel is the fire of God, since in Apoc. Ab. 31:3, the Deity says that he has destined those who “mocked” him “to be food for the fire of hell, and ceaseless soaring in the air of the underground depths.”
 

 
The Kavod of Azazel

Our previous exploration of the features of the text’s infamous antagonist showed that the authors of the apocalypse appear to envision Azazel as the one who possesses theophanic attributes mimicking the attributes of the Deity.
The impressive cluster of enigmatic traditions about the attributes and offices of the fallen angel that closely resemble their divine counterparts reaches its new paradoxal shape in chapter 23, where the hero of the faith receives a vision of the protological scene portraying the demon’s corruption of the Protoplasts.
Before examining this puzzling scene, something must be said about the peculiar arrangement of the patriarch’s vision, during which the exalted hero of the faith literally gazes into the abyss from the heights of his most exalted position near the Throne of the Deity. This enigmatic setting seems to provide further support for the dualistic framework of the text with its repeated parallelism of the lower and upper realms.
In the beginning of this mysterious vision, the Deity orders the seer to look beneath his feet and “contemplate the creation.” The apocalypse then portrays Abraham looking beneath the expanse at his feet and beholding what the text calls the “likeness of heaven.”  This reference to the “likeness of heaven” (Slav. подобие неба)  has baffled the imagination of many scholars   because of the text authors’ decision to situate under the category of the “resemblance of heaven” the vision of the corrupted domain belonging to Azazel:
And I looked beneath the expanse at my feet and I saw the likeness of heaven (подобие неба) and what was therein. And [I saw] there the earth and its fruits, and its moving ones, and its spiritual ones, and its host of men and their spiritual impieties, and their justifications, <and the pursuits of their works,> and the abyss and its torment, and its lower depths, and the perdition which is in it. And I saw there the sea and its island<s>, and its animals and its fishes, and Leviathan and his domain, and his lair, and his dens, and the world which lies upon him, and his motions and the destruction of the world because of him. (Apoc. Ab. 21:2-4).
 
In this arcane vision, which the patriarch receives from the highest heaven  gazing down into the abyss, the reader encounters another dazzling illustration of the dualistic vision of the Apocalypse of Abraham.
Yet the most puzzling disclosure in the cluster of these mysterious expositions about the “likeness of heaven” follows further along in chapter 23, where the visionary beholds Azazel’s appearance under the paradisal Tree.
Apoc. Ab. 23:4-11 unveils the following enigmatic tradition that draws on peculiar protological imagery:
And I looked at the picture, and my eyes ran to the side of the garden of Eden. And I saw there a man very great in height and terrible in breadth, incomparable in aspect, entwined (съплетшася) with a woman who was also equal to the man in aspect and size. And they were standing under a tree of Eden, and the fruit of the tree was like the appearance of a bunch of grapes of the vine. And behind the tree was standing, as it were, a serpent in form, but having hands and feet like a man, and wings on its shoulders: six on the right side and six on the left. And he was holding in his hands the grapes of the tree and feeding the two whom I saw entwined with each other. And I said, “Who are these two entwined (съплетшася) with each other, or who is this between them, or what is the fruit which they are eating, Mighty Eternal One?” And he said, “This is the reason of men, this is Adam, and this is their desire on earth, this is Eve. And he who is in between them is the Impiety of their pursuits for destruction, Azazel himself.”

In this vision which the patriarch receives while standing at the place of God’s theophany near the divine Throne, Abraham beholds Azazel’s protological manifestation in the lower realm where the demon’s presence is placed in the midst of the protoplasts. The depiction is also interesting in that it renders the abode of Azazel through the primordial imagery of the Tree situated in the Garden of Eden.
There are no doubts that the text offers to its audience the portrayal of the infamous Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil – the arboreal symbol of the protological corruption of the first human couple. The peculiar features of the scene, and the reference to the “grapes of vine” as the fruit of the Tree, bring to memory the cluster of familiar motifs associated in the Jewish lore with the legendary paradisal plant. While some features of the scene look familiar, others are not. One novel detail baffling the reader’s imagination is the portrayal of Azazel between the intertwined protoplasts under the Tree.
This intriguing tradition has long puzzled students of the Slavonic apocalypse. Although the imagery of the intertwined Protoplasts is known from Jewish and Christian lore about the serpentine Eve,  the depiction found in the Apocalypse of Abraham appears to unveil some novel, perplexing symbolism. Some scholars have noted an erotic dimension in this portrayal suggesting that the demon and the intertwined protoplasts form here some sort of a ménage à trois.  What might be the theological significance of this ominous intercourse involving the demonic spirit and the human couple?
Is it possible that, in this scene depicting an enigmatic union of the arch-demon and the protoplasts, one might have not merely a scandalous illustration of the protological corruption of the first humans, but also the disclosure of one of the most mysterious and controversial epiphanies of Azazel? If it is indeed possible, then here, as in some biblical and pseudepigraphic accounts, the erotic imagery and the symbolism of the conjugal union might be laden with theophanic significance.
Moreover, if the epiphanic angle is indeed present in the protological scene, the arboreal imagery also appears to contribute to this theological dimension. In this respect, the peculiar details of Azazel’s position between the protoplasts under the Tree might be invoking the memory of a peculiar theophanic trend related to another prominent plant of the Garden of Eden, the Tree of Life.
In Jewish lore the Tree of Life often has a theophanic significance described as the very special arboreal abode of the Deity. In these traditions God is depicted as resting on the cherub beneath the Tree of Life. These traditions are found in a number of apocalyptic and mystical accounts. Thus, for example, the Greek version  of the Life of Adam and Eve 22:3-4 connects the theophany of the Deity with the Tree of Life:

As God entered [the Garden,] the plants of Adam’s portion flowered but all mine were bereft of flowers. And the throne of God was fixed where the Tree of Life was. 

 A similar tradition is also found in 2 Enoch 8:3-4 where the Tree of Life again is described as the abode of God:

And in the midst (of them was) the tree of life, at that place where the Lord takes a rest when he goes into paradise. And that tree is indescribable for pleasantness and fine fragrance, and more beautiful than any (other) created thing that exists. And from every direction it has an appearance which is gold-looking and crimson, and with the form of fire. And it covers the whole of Paradise (2 Enoch 8:3-4, the longer recension).

The tradition of the Divinity dwelling on the cherub under the Tree of Life was not forgotten in later Jewish mysticism where God’s very presence, his Shekinah, is portrayed as resting on a cherub beneath the Tree of Life. 3 Enoch 5:1 unveils the following tradition:
R. Ishmael said: Metatron, Prince of the Divine Presence, said to me: From the day that the Holy One, blessed be he, banished the first man from the garden of Eden, the Shekinah resided on a cherub beneath the tree of life.

A striking feature of this account is that here, like in the classic Ezekelian accounts, the cherubic creature represents the “angelic furniture” that functions as the seat of the Deity.
It is also intriguing that in the later Jewish mysticism it is not only the Tree of Life but also the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, that receives similar epiphanic re-interpretation, being envisioned as the symmetrical theophanic locale with its own cherubic servants.
Thus, for example, the Book of Zohar I.237a unveils the following enigmatic tradition about the symmetry of the upper and lower cherubim explicitly associating the former with the Tree of Sin and Corruption:

Adam was punished for his sin, and brought death upon himself and all the world, and caused that tree in regard to which he sinned to be driven out along with him and his descendants for ever. It says further that God “placed the cherubim on the east of the garden of Eden”; these were the lower cherubim, for as there are cherubim above, so there are cherubim below, and he spread this tree over them.

This passage is striking since it brings to memory the Tree of Knowledge found in the Slavonic apocalypse, which provided the shadow for the protological couple holding in their midst the presence of Azazel. It is noteworthy that in the passage from the Zohar the Tree of Knowledge is now unambiguously associated with the angelic servants, designated as the “lower cherubim.”
Keeping in mind this cryptic tradition about the cherubic servants, it is now time to return to the protological scene found in the Slavonic apocalypse. The subtle allusions to the cherubic imagery might also be present in Azazel’s epiphany in Apoc. Ab. 23:4-11, where he is depicted under the Tree of Knowledge in the midst of the protoplasts. What is intriguing in the description of Azazel here is that the presence of the evil spirit is manifested in the connubial union of the intertwined couple.
It should be noted that the imagery of the intertwined primordial couple holding the presence of the spiritual agent is quite unique in the Adamic lore. Yet, it invokes the memory of another important theophanic tradition of the divine presence, where God’s presence is portrayed through the imagery of the intertwined cherubic pair in the Holy of Holies.
     The treatise Yoma of the Babylonian Talmud contains two passages that offer striking, if not scandalous, descriptions of the intertwisted cherubim in the Holy of Holies. Thus, b. Yoma 54a reads:
R. Kattina said: Whenever Israel came up to the Festival, the curtain would be removed for them and the Cherubim were shown to them, whose bodies were intertwisted with one another, and they would be thus addressed: Look! You are beloved before God as the love between man and woman.

This arcane passage relates an erotic union of the cherubic angelic servants holding the presence of the Deity. One might see here later rabbinic innovations which are far distant, or maybe even completely divorced, from the early biblical tradition of the Cherubim in the Holy of Holies.
Still scholars have previously noted that already early biblical accounts hint at the ambiguous “proximity” of the famous cherubic pair.   Rachel Elior notes that in some biblical materials “descriptions of them usually imply a posture characterized by reciprocity or contact: ‘they faced each other,’  or also ‘their wings touched each other’  or were even joined  together.’”  While the early traditions about the cherubim found “both in the Bible and elsewhere, imply varying degrees of proximity and contact – later tradition was more explicit, clearly indicating the identity of the cherubim as a mythical symbolization of reproduction  and fertility, expressed in the form of intertwined male and female.” 
In b. Yoma 54b the tradition of the intertwisted cherubim is repeated again:
Resh Lakish said: When the heathens entered the Temple and saw the Cherubim whose bodies were intertwisted with one another, they carried them out and said: These Israelites, whose blessing is a blessing, and whose curse is a curse, occupy themselves with such things! And immediately they despised them, as it is said: All that honored her, despised her, because they have seen her nakedness.

Rachel Elior argues that the description of the intertwined cherubim found in the Talmud suggests “a cultic, mystical representation of myths of hieros gamos, the sacred union or heavenly matrimony….”  It is also apparent that this arcane imagery of the Cherubic union has theophanic significance as it expresses in itself the manifestation of the divine presence – the feature especially evident in b. Yoma 54a with its motifs of the removal of the curtain and the revelation of the Cherubim on Yom Kippur. It is therefore clear that the tradition of the intertwined cherubim is envisioned here as a theophanic symbol.
In view of these developments, it is quite possible that this theophanic dimension of the conjugal union might be also negatively evoked in the depiction of the intertwined protoplasts in chapter 23 of the Apocalypse of Abraham. Could it be possible that the erotic ordeal of the protological couple holding in their midst the presence of Azazel somehow serves as a negative counterpart of the Cherubic Couple holding the divine presence in the Holy of Holies? Can Adam and Eve be understood here as the “lower cherubim” overshadowed by the Tree of Knowledge, the Adamic tradition explicitly articulated in the Zohar 1.237, and maybe already hinted at in the Apocalypse of Abraham?  
What is also fascinating in the veiled description in chapter 23 is that the mysterious shape of Azazel situated under the Tree appears in itself to point to the unity of the cherubic couple, as his form combines some attributes of the two cherubim joined together.  The passage says that the demon has twelve wings – six on the right side of his body and six on the left side:
And behind the tree was standing, as it were, a serpent in form, but having hands and feet like a man, and wings on its shoulders: six on the right side and six on the left.

It is noteworthy that earlier in the text, when Abraham sees the “Living Creatures of the Cherubim” in the heavenly Throne Room, he reports that each of them has six wings:
And under the throne [I saw] four singing fiery Living Creatures ... and each one had six wings: from their shoulders, <and from their sides,> and from their loins (Apoc. Ab. 18:3-6).

These baffling attributes of the demon are intriguing and, in view of the aforementioned theophanic traditions, it is possible that Azazel here attempts to mimic the divine presence represented by the cherubic couple in the Holy of Holies by offering his own, now corrupted and demonic version of the sacred union.  Here the Adversary, who according to the Slavonic apocalypse appears to have his own Kavod,   given to him by God, possibly intends to fashion his own presence in a dualistic symmetrical correlation with the divine theophany which takes place between two intertwined angelic creatures.
 

Conclusion

In conclusion of our study of the dualistic tendencies found in the Apocalypse of Abraham, we should say that the exact nature and possible sources of these conceptual developments remain shrouded in mystery. A number of studies have previously sought to explicate the dualistic tenets found in the Slavonic translations of several pseudepigraphical works, including the Apocalypse of Abraham and 2 Enoch, through their alleged connections with the Bogomil movement, a dualistic sect that flourished in the Balkans in the late middle ages. These studies argued that the Apocalypse of Abraham might contain Bogomil dualistic interpolations.  Recent scholarship, however, is increasingly skeptical of such radical proposals and generally finds little or no connection between the aforementioned pseudepigraphons and the Bogomil movement.
Our research helps further question the validity of the “Bogomil hypothesis,” noting the conceptual complexity of the dualistic tenets in the Slavonic apocalypse and their reliance on authentic Jewish traditions. The consistency and paramount significance of these developments for the overall conceptual framework of the pseudepigraphon suggests that they do not represent secondary additions and interpolations, but rather embody the main theological tendency of the Slavonic pseudepigraphon. This peculiar ideological trend shows remarkable similarities to the Palestinian dualism reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the dualistic currents manifested in the later Jewish mystical literature. 
In view of these portentous developments, it is quite possible that the Apocalypse of Abraham in itself can represent an important conceptual bridge between the early Palestinian dualistic currents found in the Qumran documents and their later rabbinic counterparts.  Additional investigation of the dualistic profile of the text’s chief antagonist will further clarify the true extent and nature of these significant theological advancements in the Slavonic apocalypse.