Are There Angels Without Wings Who Can Ascend to Heaven Only by Ladders?

Are There Angels Without Wings Who Can Ascend to Heaven Only by Ladders?

In the awesome and sacred night-dream of Jacob our father, as he sleeps upon the stones of the place at Mount Moriah, a breathtaking prophetic vision unfolds before him, as the Torah relates in our portion: “He dreamed, and behold, a ladder was set upon the earth, and its top reached heaven; and behold, angels of God were ascending and descending upon it” (Genesis 28:12). The scene is astonishing: sublime angels, radiant with holiness, make use of a ladder with physical rungs in order to rise from the hard earth toward the heights of heaven.

Our early sages already addressed this in Sefer HaPeli’ah, attributed to the Tannaim, and so did the Shakh on the Torah, a disciple of the school of the Arizal. They raised a tremendous question that cries out from the verses: is it not explicit in the vision of the Divine Chariot and throughout the teachings of the Sages that angels have wings—“with two he would fly”? If so, why did the angels of God need a ladder in order to ascend? Why did they not spread their spiritual wings and fly through the expanses of heaven from below to above without needing the ladder’s rungs? What awesome secret lies behind these angels ascending a ladder, and why were they commanded or compelled to proceed specifically in this manner?

From the wonder aroused by the dream of the chosen patriarch, we turn to the sacred verses of Parashat Vayetze and to the Torah commentators who illuminate them: “He dreamed, and behold, a ladder was set upon the earth, and its top reached heaven; and behold, angels of God were ascending and descending upon it. And behold, the Lord stood above him and said: I am the Lord, God of Abraham your father and God of Isaac; the land upon which you lie, to you will I give it and to your descendants” (Genesis 28:12–13).

Hadar Zekenim (Genesis 6:2) cites a remarkable Midrash explaining why these angels needed a ladder. On the verse “the sons of God saw the daughters of man,” the Midrash relates that there was a righteous virgin. When the “sons of God” descended and asked her to submit to them, she said she would do so only if they gave her their wings. Once they handed over their wings, she immediately flew to heaven and escaped the sin, and the Holy One, blessed be He, fixed her among the constellations as Virgo. Those angels who remained on earth were left without wings and could not ascend until Jacob’s ladder became available to them. Through it they finally rose. This, according to the Midrash, is the meaning of “and behold, angels of God were ascending and descending upon it.”

Rabbeinu Shlomo Yitzhaki, Rashi (Genesis 28:12), identifies the angels and explains their movement upon the ladder. These were the angels of the Land of Israel and the angels of outside the Land. The angels of the Land of Israel, who had accompanied Jacob thus far, ascended, while the angels of outside the Land descended to accompany him further.

Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nahman, Ramban (Genesis 28:12), explains the vision of the ladder and the angels as a revelation that events in this world are conducted by angels who ascend and descend as messengers of the Almighty. The ladder portrays the constant bond between the lower and upper realms.

In Agan HaSahar (part 2, section 1), in the name of Rabbi Avraham Genichovsky, a powerful moral lesson is derived from the ladder. The Holy One, blessed be He, wished to teach Jacob and Israel that a Torah scholar, who is comparable to an angel and has wings with which to soar through the sea of Talmud, does not need to display those wings to everyone. He should conceal them, walk humbly and slowly, as though ascending a ladder rung by rung.

From the Torah commentators and great luminaries we enter the halls of the Talmud to establish the foundations of the issue in the words of the Sages.

Hullin 91b explains the angels’ ascent and descent: “Angels of God were ascending and descending upon it—they ascended and gazed upon the likeness above, and descended and gazed upon the likeness below.” Their movement on the ladder was therefore an act of longing and wonder before the image of the chosen patriarch, whose likeness reflected the Throne of Glory.

Berakhot 63b contains the sharp statement against isolated study: “A sword upon the solitary and they shall become foolish—a sword upon the enemies of Torah scholars who engage in Torah alone; and not only that, but they become foolish.” From this teaching our masters learned the danger of solitary study without companionship and service of sages, to the point that a person may reach error and fantasy—as happened, according to the later story, to the diligent scholar who imagined that newly created angels had not yet grown wings.

Hagigah 13b discusses the creation of angels: “Every day ministering angels are created from the River of Fire, recite song, and cease to exist.” Some understood this continual creation as a renewal of their forces, but such renewal does not imply that they lack their spiritual properties or the wings with which they were created.

Sanhedrin 38b discusses the rank and missions of angels, teaching that every appointment and mission of an angel in the lower worlds occurs with exact precision and supreme decree. An angel does not deviate from his mission or from the form of his creation even by a hair’s breadth.

From these foundations we move to the great Aharonim, who sought to resolve the central question of why winged angels needed a ladder and offered profound explanations.

Rabbi Ephraim Shlomo of Luntschitz, in Kli Yakar (Genesis 28:12), explains the matter in terms of the angels of the Land of Israel and outside the Land. Angels of outside the Land do not have permission, as it were, to fly within the spiritual airspace of the Land of Israel, because an angel’s power of movement is bounded by the sphere of his spiritual authority. When the angels of outside the Land descended to accompany Jacob and entered the boundary of the Holy Land, their ordinary ability to fly there did not operate, and they therefore needed the ladder in order to return upward.

Rabbi Avraham Menachem Rappaport, in Minhah Belulah (Genesis 28:12), explains the ladder through the spiritual laws of measure and holiness. The ladder was meant to show Jacob the path by which prayers and good deeds rise from this lower world to the upper worlds, ascending step by step through the channels and gradations fixed within creation. The angels appointed over the elevation of prayers appeared walking upon the ladder to illustrate the ordered ascent of divine service.

Rabbi Yosef Teomim, in Rosh Yosef on the Talmudic tractates, discusses angels created from the deeds of a righteous person. He explains that angels produced by a mitzvah or good deed depend for their spiritual completeness upon the quality and intention of that act. The image of incompleteness in their ascent is thus linked to the spiritual quality of the human deed from which they emerged.

The Shakh on the Torah, from the teachings of disciples of the Arizal, in Parashat Vayetze, develops the solution found in Sefer HaPeli’ah. These angels lost their wings when they descended to earth in an earlier generation and gave those wings to the righteous maiden so that she could escape sin. Left stranded in the material world without their power of flight, they remained there until Jacob’s ladder appeared, allowing them finally to ascend to their place above.

Levush HaOrah on Vayetze explains the matter as a parable about Providence. Scripture does not necessarily describe a technical defect in the angels’ wings. Wings represent miraculous, supernatural governance, while ascending and descending upon a ladder symbolizes a gradual mode of Providence in which God’s will is clothed within the order of nature step by step, just as a person ascends one rung at a time.

Rabbi Avraham Genichovsky, in Agan HaSahar (part 2, section 1), recounts a striking story from Jerusalem in the days of Rabbi Yehoshua Leib Diskin. There was an extraordinarily diligent scholar in the Hurva Synagogue who studied alone with intense devotion and kept his writings locked in a chest. After his death, people examined his writings and saw that he had answered the question of the ladder on the basis of the piyyut Akdamut, “new ones sprout forth in the morning,” which describes God creating new angels every morning. This scholar had suggested that those new angels had not yet grown wings. Rabbi Yehoshua Leib Diskin pointed to the episode as an illustration of the Sages’ warning that one who studies Torah in isolation, without serving sages or attaching himself to colleagues, may fall into serious conceptual error. Angels are created in their complete spiritual form; they do not gradually grow wings as physical animals do.

Rabbi Avraham Genichovsky adds the beautiful moral lesson of concealing one’s virtues. The Holy One, blessed be He, wished to show Jacob and his descendants that even a Torah scholar who is angel-like and capable of soaring with his wings through every region of the sea of Talmud need not constantly use those wings or display his greatness publicly. He should hide his wings, conduct himself modestly, and advance calmly on the ladder of divine service, in the spirit of “with the modest is wisdom.”

From the Aharonim we enter the world of Hasidic thought and inner service, where the ladder and the angels become a map of the human soul.

Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk, in Noam Elimelech on Vayetze, explains that the angels in the verse allude to the righteous of the generation and servants of God. Although they possess lofty souls capable of spiritual flight, their service in this world must still take the form of a ladder—gradual, disciplined, and step by step. If a person tries to fly all at once to levels beyond his true stature, he may collapse. This is the inner meaning of ascending and descending on the ladder.

Rabbi Shraga Feivel Zev Wolf, in Or Penei Moshe on Vayetze, explains that the angels do not need the ladder for themselves. Their wings are sufficient for flight. Their movement on the ladder is for the sake of connecting earth to heaven and elevating with them the physical deeds of Jacob and of Israel, transforming earthly action into a chariot for the Divine Presence.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, cited in Emet VeEmunah on Vayetze, derives a sharp lesson from the angels’ motion: in divine service there is no standing still. Even angels, who have no evil inclination and possess wings, are descending if they are not ascending. As long as a person lives upon earth, he must remain in constant movement of action and ascent and may not rely upon previous achievements.

From these foundations flow practical implications in the paths of a servant of God.

Gradual growth versus spiritual leaps: because the angels themselves moved rung by rung, a person should not attempt to leap suddenly to lofty spiritual levels that do not fit his present capacity. He should build his divine service in measured stages so that his growth will be stable and will not lead to collapse.

The duty of constant action and progress: the angels’ movement teaches that a person must never be content with his current spiritual position or rely upon earlier accomplishments. He should always remain in motion, renewing himself in Torah and mitzvot. One who is not ascending is, in a meaningful sense, descending.

Concealing one’s virtues and cultivating humility: the fact that the angels do not simply display their wings teaches the Torah scholar and servant of God that even after attaining broad knowledge or high spiritual accomplishment, he should not exhibit them. He should live simply and modestly and hide his spiritual stature.

Connecting material acts to holiness: the angels’ movement from earth toward heaven teaches that eating, drinking, business, and every earthly occupation can be directed for the sake of Heaven. In that way the mundane is elevated and the physical world becomes a dwelling place for the Divine Presence.

From these practical conclusions we move inward toward a comprehensive contemplation of the ladder and human spiritual construction.

The terrifying image of a ladder rooted in earth with its head reaching heaven tells the story of the human role in this world. The human being is created from dust, bodily and material, yet his soul is a portion from above and its “head reaches heaven.” The angels—with all their holiness and spiritual wings—were shown specifically ascending and descending on the ladder beside sleeping Jacob. This reveals a great principle: God does not seek angels who float above reality and remain detached from the material world. He desires a dwelling in the lower realms. Authentic divine service is not flight from physical existence but standing with one’s feet within daily trials and actions and ascending from there, step by step, toward the highest heavens.

The concealment of the wings opens a further window into modesty and inwardness. Wings represent visibility, expansion, and public display. When the angels fold their wings and move upon the ladder like ordinary walkers, they teach the true path of the Torah scholar: the purest spiritual work is often done quietly and privately, without noise. The capacity to fly is a gift from Heaven; wisdom lies in knowing how to walk upon the earth with humility without waving one’s virtues before others. The less a person feels the need to display his spiritual wings, the more refined and enduring his Torah and service can become.

A further symmetry appears between the ladder and the Mishkan. The three parts of the ladder—earth, its rungs, and heaven—can be compared to the courtyard, the Sanctuary, and the Holy of Holies. Earth corresponds to the courtyard, where the copper altar represents material service. The ladder’s rungs correspond to the Sanctuary, with its Menorah, Table, and golden altar, representing Torah and the service of the heart. Heaven, where God stands above, corresponds to the Holy of Holies, where the Divine Presence rests upon the Ark. Just as the High Priest did not enter the Holy of Holies in one leap but passed through each zone in a precise order, so the angels’ movement teaches the structured stages of spiritual ascent.

A parallel also exists between Jacob’s ladder and Sinai. Of the ladder it says, “set upon the earth and its head reached heaven.” At Sinai it says that “the mountain burned with fire to the heart of heaven” and “from heaven He made you hear His voice.” Both reveal the union of upper and lower realms. Torah itself is the ladder given from Heaven, and its rungs are the commandments. When Israel studies Torah and fulfills its mitzvot, it ascends those rungs and elevates all creation from earth toward heaven.

The moral compass that emerges is one of gradual growth and quiet humility. Human nature longs to rise quickly, spread its wings, and soar at once toward lofty achievement. Torah teaches that even heavenly angels move rung by rung. Stable sanctity is not built through sudden leaps or spectacular displays, but through patient, measured, consistent work in which each stage rests firmly on the one beneath it.

The ladder also warns against an externalized image of spirituality. The angels’ use of rungs rather than visible wings teaches that the purest work often takes place away from the gaze of others. When a person restrains the need to display his powers and focuses instead on quiet ascent, he builds an identity not dependent upon applause but bound to truth.

The story of the solitary scholar offers another moral warning: isolation can conceal pride and produce distorted ideas. Study without companionship, without genuine conversation with fellow students and without serving sages may lead even a diligent person into fantasy. Straight thought and Torah truth are formed through humility, willingness to submit to the words of the Sages, and honest discussion with others.

We therefore take several daily lessons with us: build every good resolution and every area of spiritual service gradually and patiently; conceal achievements and capacities rather than display them; remain attached to teachers and friends in Torah rather than withdrawing into self-contained certainty; and direct every material act toward Heaven so that the steps of this world themselves become a ladder lifting the soul upward.

The Main Point:

Jacob’s awesome dream as he left Beersheba opens a window into the secret of creation and the structure of human service. The great question—why winged angels needed a ladder—receives many layered answers. Midrashic traditions speak of angels who lost their wings; commentators describe the channels of Providence and the pathways by which Israel’s prayers rise; later masters turn the ladder into a model of gradual growth. Even heavenly beings, in the vision, move step by step, and the ladder becomes a symbol of the human soul rooted in earth yet reaching the Throne of Glory.

The precious lesson emphasized by Rabbi Avraham Genichovsky is that a Torah scholar who is like an angel must know how to fold his wings, conceal his greatness, and walk humbly upon the earth. Just as the ladder’s rungs connect dust to the heights, quiet human steps taken with patience, truth, and humility can transform every small act into a golden ladder reaching the heart of heaven.