zachariah is the best character on this show actually

The meaning of Aziraphale’s name

Angel names in Judeo-Christian angelology all mean something in Hebrew. Gabriel means “God is my might”; Michael means “who is like God?”; Uriel means “God is my light”; Raphael could mean either “God healed” or (as an imperative) “God, heal!” I’m not completely sure that Gaiman and Pratchett intended for the name Aziraphale to mean anything in particular in Hebrew, but because I’m obsessive, I wanted to figure something out. People who know more Hebrew than I do are welcome to make corrections or suggestions.

I think Neil Gaiman said in an interview at some point that the original spelling was Aziraphael, in keeping with the typical -el ending of angel names. If that’s the correct spelling, then the name might be a strange way of saying “God, my strength, healed” or “God, my strength, heal!” Or it might contain the name Raphael as a part, meaning “Raphael is my strength.” I don’t really buy the recent fanon proposal that Crowley was Raphael before his fall, because all the angel lore, including the Book of Tobit, has Raphael as an angel long after Lucifer’s rebellion would have taken place (in Paradise Lost, Raphael is the one who tells the story to Adam). But if we do go in for that bit of fanon, then we can imagine a scenario like the one at the beginning of this fic, in which our two heroes were in love in Heaven before the Fall and Aziraphael (who we assume ranked lower) had a different name to start with but took the name “Raphael is my strength.”

But there are other interesting translation possibilities if we take the current spelling to indicate that the name has 4 syllables rather than 5 (i.e., there’s no extra aleph between the pheh and the lamed). I’m not aware of a Hebrew root rap[h]al, so that means we’d need to break the name up into Azir - aphel or Azir(a) - phel. As noted in this wonderful post, in which someone wrote a letter from “Crawly” to Azirapil in Akkadian cuneiform (!!), the “Azir” part can be derived from a Hebrew root and mean “helper, one who helps.” That speculative translation continues:

The second element appears to be āpilu, literally “the one who answers,” but also used to mean “the one who dissents, the one who talks back.”  Thus, together, the name would mean “the one who helps the dissenter.”

Which is very cool, but I wasn’t sure whether there was any Hebrew equivalent, so I went looking for the meaning of a Hebrew root ‘ap[h]al. The first thing I found was this article called “The Sin and Danger of Presumption,” which I immediately knew was a Christian thing because Christians get way more worked up about presumption than Jews do. Anyway, here’s the relevant bit:

apal - presume. (So ASV, RSV; NASB, “to be heedless.”) - This root, to which we may compare Arabic gafala “to be heedless, neglectful, inadvertent,” is found in only one OT passage, Num 14:44 (Hiphil), of Israel’s rash and reckless attack on the Amalekites and Canaanites, following her lack of faith and great rebellion. There are some authorities who suggest that the Pual of apal in Hab 2:4 may be from the same root, “to presume, be proud.”

Whoa this is getting super long. The rest is under a cut.

So I tracked down the verses as translated by Jews, because I trust Jews more than Christians to not read anachronistic concepts into Hebrew words. In my tiny little JPS (Jewish Publication Society) Tanakh, vaya’pilu la’alot (Num. 14:44) is translated as “they defiantly marched,” with a footnote saying “meaning of Heb. uncertain.” OK, something to do with defiance... interesting. The first half of Hab. 2:4 is translated, “Lo, his spirit within him is puffed up, not upright,” and the Hebrew word translated as “puffed up” is ‘uplah (no, I’m not making that up).

Bible Hub is another Christian thing, but they’ve got a useful entry on the root aphal (that’s with an ayin at the beginning) with translations from a bunch of different concordances. It appears that the original literal meaning is “to swell,” and it acquired metaphorical meanings related to arrogance (having a swelled head or an inflated sense of one’s own importance), rashness, and/or defiance. So assuming the Azir- part means “helper,” Azir’aphel or Azir’aphal might mean “helper of the arrogant/defiant one,” which could refer to his relationship with Crowley; or it might mean “heedless helper,” which could describe the morally dubious action of giving Adam and Eve his flaming sword.

I don’t know how to deal with Hebrew characters in Tumblr, so I’m going to do something dumb and put in a screenshot of how his name might be spelled in Hebrew:

The other possible way to break it down would be with the second ‘a’ just as a link between Azir- and -phel or -phal rather than the vowel associated with a ‘silent’ consonant (it’s silent now, but it used to be some guttural sound that doesn’t exist in Hebrew anymore). In Biblical Hebrew there isn’t a two-letter root pal, but I did find this old and not at all sketchy-looking e-zine entry about the root palal, which can mean “to intercede,” “to interpose,” “to arbitrate/judge,” “to pray,” or (apparently) “to think.” According to the not-at-all-sketchy e-zine, the Biblical Hebrew root palal is derived from the older parent root pal, which means “to speak to authority.” Supposedly that has something to do with the fact that the letter peh is a picture of a mouth and lamed is a picture of a shepherd’s staff, but it is absolutely fucking insane to derive the meaning of a spoken word from the meanings of the letters in which it is written, so I’m taking that with a whole handful of salt.

Somewhat more reasonable is the assertion that the root means “to fall,” and thus the connection with prayer, intercession, or pleading one’s case to an authority has to do with the practice of prostrating oneself in supplication. The root meaning “to fall” is nap[h]al, but nun is one of those funky semi-consonant letters (like heh, vav, and yud) that has a tendency to disappear or turn into something else when the verb is conjugated, so it’s not insane to think that the pal part is what’s core to the meaning and the nun is just there because roots gotta have 3 letters. It’s also not totally insane to think that this is somehow related to the root palal, because I also vaguely remember that in roots where the second and third letters are the same, they have a tendency to get mushed together, as in the palal derivative that’ll be most familiar to Jews, t’fillah, the noun meaning “prayer.” (Well, it’s a little vague because it’s spelled with two l’s in English but there’s only one lamed in the Hebrew... but there’s also a little dot in the lamed, which indicates that it’s a geminate consonant, serving as both the coda of the second syllable and the onset of the third.)

OK, so, what would that mean for Aziraphale’s name? Obviously the most exciting possibility would be that it means “helper of the fallen,” because duh. “The fallen” or “the one who falls” would be nophel, but if the nun gets dropped in conjugation, it might also fall out when it’s getting mashed together with another word in a name, right? Alternatively, going with the “prayer/intercession” meaning of palal, Aziraphale might mean “helper [and] intercessor,” which would make sense with his role as the one who attempts to plead for human beings and the Earth with his superiors who are happy to see it destroyed to settle their scores with Hell. If either of those is the meaning, it would be spelled like this:

So, to sum up: depending on how we imagine Aziraphale to be spelled in Hebrew, it could mean:

“God, my strength, healed”, “God, my strength, heal!”, or (less likely) “Raphael is my strength”

“helper of the arrogant/defiant one” or “heedless helper”

“helper of the fallen” or “helper [and] intercessor”

"why are angels in suits and archangels in ratty jeans" do you think maybe archangels have something that resembles free will, something regular angels have to struggle a lot to discover within themselves? (yes I read all your tags)

I’m not sure the two things are linked, though? Or linked in that exact way, ie free will automatically leads to freedom to customize your accessories?

Like, if we’re talking clothes, the most striking examples are Michael and Lucifer and how their fashion sense seems to evolve with their vessel.

There could be many reasons for this. Most likely, it’s just a narrative way of showing a clear difference between Dean (or Sam) and their possessed versions, because the fact is, both Lucifer and AU!Michael used to dress in a very similar way to real!Dean and real!Sam, so without the change in clothes, both actors and viewers would have a much harder time telling them apart.

(The interesting exception, of course, is Cas. See below for more speculation.)

As for in-story logic, there are a couple of fashion-related points we can make.

First of all, both in Supernatural and IRL, suits embody a kind of willing submission to your role in society, and what your superiors think and want. While most lines of work have compulsory or traditional ‘uniforms’, suits are not dictated by practical or safety reasons. They simply signal you don’t work with your hands and you get (or hope to get) something of a decent salary. What’s particularly striking about suits is that, on the whole, they’re not really a good choice as ‘standard wear’ for tertiary jobs? Like - for one, most suits just don’t fit the wearer’s body very well. You walk around and you see a lot of people (basically all the women because boobs and curves, but also many men) who just look awkward and cheap. There’s a reason why ‘getting a bespoke suit’, complete with standing on ridiculous tiny podium with four Italian tailors shaking their hands at you is such a popular movie trope and generally shorthand for ‘you’ve made it’, and it’s because off-the-rack suits tend to suck - they fall weirdly on your body, might pull at your joints, and generally look really bad. If you’re Benedict Cumberbatch, you could probably find someting suitable even in Asda, but then again, if you’re Benedict Cumberbatch you’d look good in a sandwich wrapper, so that’s a moot point. And another thing is that suits are incredibly high-maintenance, even if Supernatural pretends otherwise? 

(And that’s another of those ‘black spaces’ we all watch with such rapt attention, by the way, because the boys wearing suits so often implies someone - *coughs* Dean *coughs* - spends a sizable portion of his time buying and looking after those clothes, and probably has a whole room in the Bunker full of fluffy fabric and costumes.)

Anyway - you need to fold them neatly and iron the shit out of them (and ironing shirts, that’s fun) and depending on the fabric every time you fucking move they fucking crease? And finally (I mean, I could go on because I hate them, but you know), finally they’re generally the reflection of an entitled, arrogant society which doesn’t take into account nature or weather. Like, people in suits may look all cool and unruffled inside their fancy AC-ed banks, but try wearing your bespoke woolen monstrosity on the tube, or outside on a summer afternoon, and you’re not likely to come out alive. So where manual workers are mostly forced to wear the same thing year-round to protect themselves from injury (or because their clothes need to be boiled when washed), and other professionals (like teachers) will adapt their wardrobe to seasons and mood, people who’re forced to wear suits truly represent the end of individuality, personality, and choice. 

(Our national bank and our biggest insurance will police everything down to your bra, nail polish and make-up, so while there are people who genuinely enjoy wearing suits - I guess - I’d say for most it’s not really a choice.)

And the sad thing is, we’ve all accepted this as a good & worthy thing: buying your first suit is a sign you’re all grown up, and even if you’re not a corporate slave, you’ll be expected to wear suits at important meetings, weddings and funerals (hell, I know I’ve got a couple in my closet, so I’m not claiming any moral high ground here). What’s even more perverse, and also chimes in with the Supernatural universe, is that true wealth doesn’t give a rat’s ass about suits. As with other stuff, from dead languages to meditation to how well you treat your inferiors, there’s a wide gap between those who think they’re the upper class and the real upper class. This is a detail that often goes unnoticed, both IRL and in fiction, but a show like Billions, for instance, explored it to perfection: most characters will be in suits all the time, because the background is the financial world, but not Axe, our main character, who’ll choose jeans and leather jackets (which probably cost more than your house, and okay, but still: the key is comfort and non-conformity).

(See also: Chuck in his second-hand jacket vs. his archangels preening up and buying stupid stuff as soon as they fall in line.

Or: Chuck wearing whatever the hell he likes while his theoretically more powerful sister is stuffed into luxurious and revealing clothes, complete with pastel nail polish.)

Coming back to Supernatural, this is something of a pattern: normal angels are (almost) always in suits. Cas has a shabby suit hidden by his trademark trench coat - a fashion choice which has many reasons (chief among them, that John Constatine thing) but ends up representing the character’s dilemma and his push towards free will and a different kind of belonging. Both Michael and Lucifer dress shabbily when they’re not following Heaven’s plan, and suit up as soon as they manage to fulfill their expected roles. Raphael, the only archangel to be 100% loyal to the task he was assigned, is always shown in a suit.

(Gabriel, who never fit in, lived and died (twice) in his own personalized wardrobe.)

Something else that’s a headcanon of mine is that angels, generally speaking, don’t give a damn about human stuff because they’re not equipped to understand it. Like, Crowley is susceptible to the joys of a well-cut suit, and also painfully aware of its meaning (as an illiterate, illegimate child of a socially rejected mother, belonging and riches is what he dreamed about, and it’s not a surprise he chose to be apprenticed to a tailor); then again, he’s a demon, not an angel, which means he’s got a deep layer of tortured humanity informing his thoughts and his decisions. On the other hand, what does a suit mean to someone like Lucifer, who’s older than balls, considers humans to be a mistake and the scum of the Earth and is used to see their fashion sense change dramatically every few seconds (to an immortal, fifty years must look like one or two minutes)? No - to Lucifer, and Michael, and possibly Gabriel, the main problem is that they’re not in their rightful vessels; and, as we’ve seen very clearly in Lucifer’s case, the consequences can be irritating and very, very dramatic. So it makes sense, in a way, that they’d focus on keeping their vessels’ skin in one piece without bothering with anything else? Like, Nick!Lucifer changing into a nice Armani would be like a guy being rushed to the ER for organ failure insisting on silver cufflinks on his hospital gown.

(That’s also why, I think, Lucifer never bothered to change anything about Cas’ appearance when he was possessing Cas? It was a way of 1) cutting down his workload, 2) annoying the hell out of Sam and Dean and tricking them for as long as possible and 3) refusing to claim ownership of a vessel Lucifer probably considered dirty and beneath him.)

As a final thought, I always had a problem with that whole ‘angels have no free will’ thing, because the show & tell on that one never matched all that well. I mean: the only angel whose journey we truly witnessed was Cas, and even with Cas, it’s stated outright he always had plenty of free will and a boatload of feelings and opinions - to the point where he had to be reprogrammed several times. Mostly other low-level angel we’ve seen, though, have displayed a remarkable sense of self and very disinct preferences: from Balthazar who did his own thing to hippy!angels who wanted to camp by a river, to Ishim who went against orders to get laid, to Gadreel who took an awful lot of independent decisions, to his subtextual husband/textual parabatai who’d chosen a suburban human life, all the way to Naomi (the highest in hierarchy) and to that cute angel in glasses (the lowest of the low, and rip). So while the ‘tell’ part of this story was always more or less consistent (‘angels can’t understand emotions, can’t make their own choices, Cas is the lone exception’), the ‘show’ part mostly fell short of that message: with the exception of the suit as shorthand for brainlessness and obedience, angels never acted like the brainwashed robots they were supposed to be. In fact, you could even argue that the only two angels who’re pig-headedly determined to follow the path Chuck traced for them are, ironically enough, Michael and Lucifer.