Rediscovering Enoch’s Legacy

When people think of great figures in the Bible, names like Abraham, Moses, and Jesus Christ usually come to mind. Yet tucked into the earliest chapters of Genesis is a brief and mysterious mention of a man named Enoch. In only four verses (Genesis 5:21–24), Enoch appears, walks with God, and is suddenly taken away. No details, no warning, no explanation.

In her article for the Daily Beast, Candida Moss — a New Testament scholar — brings much-needed visibility to Enoch’s forgotten impact. Drawing from both biblical text and centuries of Jewish and Christian tradition, Moss demonstrates why Enoch deserves to be recognized as one of the Bible’s most influential figures.

Enoch’s Mysterious Appearance in Genesis

Genesis 5 is a genealogy — a repetitive list of “name, age, son, death” — until it suddenly breaks the pattern:

“Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him.” (Genesis 5:24, ESV)

Unlike every other patriarch listed, Enoch doesn’t die. He is simply “taken.” Moss points out that this abrupt removal set the stage for centuries of speculation. Why was Enoch spared death? What did it mean to “walk with God” so closely that you skipped mortality?

These brief verses planted seeds that would blossom into some of the most imaginative and influential writings of the ancient world.

Candida Moss’s Insight: Why Enoch Captured Ancient Imagination

Moss highlights that Enoch’s mystery resonated with later Jewish writers who lived centuries after Genesis was first penned. Far from fading into obscurity, Enoch became a literary sensation.

Ancient Jewish authors crafted entire stories around him, resulting in not one, but three major books bearing his name: 1 Enoch, 2 Enoch, and 3 Enoch. Among these, 1 Enoch — particularly the Book of the Watchers section — had an extraordinary influence on Jewish and early Christian thought.

It’s easy to miss just how significant this is.

Think about it: a man who gets four verses in Genesis became the centerpiece of a vast apocalyptic tradition. Ancient writers couldn’t resist filling in the blanks, and the blanks were huge. Their efforts weren’t casual either; they saw Enoch as a critical figure who helped explain the world’s brokenness.

The Explosion of Enoch Literature: Fan Fiction, Faith, and Fear

Moss does an excellent job framing this explosion of Enoch literature. Rather than dismiss it as deception or myth-making, she recognizes it as a sincere attempt to grapple with theological questions.

She compares it to “fan fiction” — not in a dismissive way, but to describe how ancient authors wrote new stories out of love and fascination for Enoch. They didn’t think of themselves as inventing lies; they saw themselves as “continuing the tradition” by imagining what might have happened to this beloved, enigmatic figure.

In a time when Jewish identity was under pressure from Hellenistic culture, writing in Enoch’s name became a powerful act of cultural preservation and theological exploration.

1 Enoch: How the Book of the Watchers Reshaped Theories of Evil

At the center of this expansion is 1 Enoch, especially its Book of the Watchers. Moss summarizes it well:

• Enoch is taken into the heavens and shown the celestial order.
  
• He witnesses the rebellion of the “Watchers,” angels who descend to earth.
  
• These angels corrupt humanity by marrying human women and imparting forbidden knowledge — metallurgy, magic, cosmetics, and astrology.
  
• Their offspring, the Nephilim, become giants and tyrants who ravage the earth.
  

Moss notes that this vivid narrative profoundly shaped ancient Jewish theories of evil. Rather than seeing human sin as purely Adamic, some traditions blamed the Watchers’ rebellion for introducing corruption into the world.

She connects this to modern scholarship by referencing Loren Stuckenbruck and his work The Myth of the Rebellious Angels. Stuckenbruck argues that Genesis itself doesn’t portray the giants (Nephilim) as inherently evil, leaving room for emerging traditions like 1 Enoch to fill that gap.

This is an important nuance. Genesis 6:4 describes the Nephilim as “mighty men of old, men of renown,” but says little about their morality. It’s later writers, not the Genesis author, who frame them as villains. Moss rightly highlights that early Jewish imagination added layers to the biblical account, reflecting their need to explain rampant evil in a fallen world.

Enoch’s Influence on Early Jewish and Christian Thought

Moss points out that the popularity of 1 Enoch coincides with the turbulent era of Jewish history following the Babylonian exile and during the spread of Hellenistic culture. This was a time when Jewish thinkers sought to carve out a distinct identity.

Writing about Enoch allowed them to:

• Differentiate their worldview from Greek mythology (e.g., Prometheus stealing fire).
• Assert that forbidden knowledge (like magic and astrology) was a corruption, not a human achievement.
• Offer a divine explanation for evil that reinforced Jewish monotheism.
  

These Enochian traditions deeply influenced Christian writers as well. Moss connects Enochic themes directly to New Testament books like Jude and 2 Peter, where fallen angels are mentioned and where apocalyptic imagery flourishes.

Enoch’s Apocalyptic Vision: Drawing from Daniel and Beyond

Another key insight Moss shares — often overlooked — is that 1 Enoch did not emerge in isolation. It was heavily influenced by the Book of Daniel.

Apocalyptic imagery like visions of heaven, judgment scenes, and the “Son of Man” figure appear in Daniel first, and Enochian writings expand on these themes.

Moss shows that 1 Enoch stands at a crossroads, weaving together:

• Daniel’s visions
  
• Broader Second Temple apocalypticism
  
• Critiques of Hellenistic rulers
  
• Deep anxieties about cultural and moral corruption
  

Enoch becomes not just a figure of mystery, but a symbol of divine wisdom, heavenly insight, and ultimate justice.

It’s refreshing to see Moss highlight the literary and theological sophistication of these texts. 1 Enoch is messy, sprawling, and composite, but it is also one of the most creative and profound responses to the question: “Why is the world so broken?”

Enoch’s Preservation and Legacy in Ethiopia

Moss rightly notes that while much of 1 Enoch faded from Jewish and Christian canon in the West, it remained preserved in Ethiopia.

The Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church considers 1 Enoch canonical to this day. Thanks to their faithful preservation, modern scholars were able to rediscover the full text when it had otherwise vanished from European memory.

Moss shares the powerful words of Ethiopian emperor Zar’a Ya’qob:

“Without the Book of Enoch, you cannot claim to be a true Christian or a true Jew.”

The survival of 1 Enoch through Ethiopian Christianity is one of the great providences of church history. It reminds us that God’s people have often preserved treasures of wisdom in unexpected places.

Why This Matters for Bible Readers Today

Reading Moss’s overview reminds me why Enoch matters so much today.

• He reminds us that the Bible only hints at deeper cosmic realities.
  
• He shows that ancient writers wrestled with the problem of evil long before our modern debates.
  
• His story challenges us to think carefully about tradition — what it preserves, what it invents, and how it shapes faith.
  

Moss doesn’t claim that all Second Temple expansions are “true” in the strictest sense. Neither do I. But understanding how ancient Jews and early Christians thought about Enoch helps us read Scripture more carefully and appreciate the rich backdrop against which the New Testament was written.

In an age flooded with conspiracies and sensationalism, Moss’s balanced, critical approach is refreshing. She invites readers to take Enoch seriously without losing sight of Scripture’s primacy.

Enoch’s Lasting Impact — and Why We Shouldn’t Ignore It

Candida Moss succeeds in pulling Enoch out of obscurity. She shows that this “minor” character sparked a literary, theological, and cultural movement that shaped Judaism, Christianity, and even modern religious imagination.

If you’ve never heard of Enoch beyond Genesis 5, you’re not alone. But you’re also missing one of the most important windows into how ancient people understood the brokenness of the world — and their hope for divine intervention.

Enoch’s story isn’t just a footnote. It’s a bridge: from the earliest pages of Genesis, through Second Temple Judaism, into the New Testament, and beyond.