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Moses Mistook Og for a City Wall and the King Was Seated on Top of It

Before dawn Moses looked at Edrei and saw a new wall around the city. There was no wall. It was a man seated on the old one, feet on the ground.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Something Wrong With Edrei
  2. A King Who Survived the Flood
  3. Moses Was Afraid
  4. The Giant Who Tried to Bury the Camp

Something Wrong With Edrei

Moses woke before the camp stirred and looked toward Edrei in the grey before sunrise. Something had happened to the city overnight. A massive new wall had appeared around the entire perimeter, rising so high that it changed the silhouette of the city against the pre-dawn sky. In all his years of military campaigns across the wilderness, in all the approaches to fortified positions he had overseen, Moses had never seen fortifications go up in a single night. He looked at the wall and felt the cold that comes before fear.

There was no new wall.

What Moses was looking at was Og, king of Bashan, seated on top of Edrei's existing wall with his feet resting flat on the ground below. The man's legs were the perceived ramparts. His torso was the perceived parapet. His head extended into the sky where a watchtower would have been. Moses had been looking at a man and reading him as architecture because the scale of the man made architecture the first and most reasonable interpretation of what the eyes were reporting.

A King Who Survived the Flood

Og was not merely large. He was a different order of creature. The tradition places him among the Rephaim, the giants who had walked the earth in the generations before the flood. He had survived the flood itself, clinging to the side of the ark, hanging on to a rail or a ledge, fed daily by Noah, alive when the waters receded while every other living thing above the waterline had drowned. He was already ancient when Abraham fought the kings in the valley, already ancient when Sihon and Og carved out their kingdoms in Transjordan.

The tradition gives his dimensions: his bed was nine cubits long and four cubits wide. By the standard cubit this places it at roughly thirteen feet by six feet. By the largest cubit calculation his bed was considerably longer. His iron bedstead became famous enough that Deuteronomy mentions it still existed in Rabbath Ammon as a tourist object by the time of Moses's death. The bed outlasted the man. The man's scale outlasted normal measurement.

Moses Was Afraid

The tradition does not soften this. Moses, who had faced Pharaoh and the sea and forty years of wilderness complaints and the deaths of his own generation, was afraid of Og. God had to tell him directly: do not fear him. The instruction implies that fear was the natural response and Moses was experiencing it. A man who looked like a city wall when seated would look like something else entirely when standing and moving toward you.

God's reassurance came with a specific strategy. Moses was told to throw a stone at Og's ankle, which would kill him. The logistics of this required Moses himself to be supernaturally enlarged for the purpose, because otherwise the ankle was too far above him to reach effectively. The tradition describes Moses jumping from the ground, adding height to his throw, still not reaching high enough, and requiring divine assistance to bridge the gap between Moses's natural reach and the ankle of a creature who had walked the earth since before the flood.

The Giant Who Tried to Bury the Camp

Before Moses threw the stone, Og had his own plan. He uprooted a mountain. The account describes him tearing a peak from the ground and carrying it over his head to drop on the Israelite camp, intending to bury the entire people under rock. He was holding the mountain above his head when God sent ants into the stone, which bored through the rock until it crumbled around Og's neck like a collar, trapping his arms. The stone that was supposed to bury Israel had become a stone collar that locked Og's arms above his head and left him standing there, immobilized, when Moses jumped and threw and struck the ankle.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 5:102Legends of the Jews

The familiar version gives us Moses. The guy who led the Israelites out of Egypt, received the Torah on Mount Sinai… a pretty big deal. But even Moses, seasoned leader and prophet, felt a tremor of fear when he encountered Og, king of Bashan.

Why? Well, for starters, Og wasn’t your average king. He was a giant. And not just any giant, but a giant whose strength and size Moses witnessed firsthand. It’s one thing to hear stories; it’s another thing entirely to stand face-to-face with a behemoth.

It wasn’t just Og's size that gave Moses pause. Moses, as the verse says, wasn’t just worried about Og's physical prowess. He reasoned, "I am only one hundred and twenty years old, whereas he is more than five hundred. Surely he could never have attained so great an age, had he not performed meritorious deeds." (Legends of the Jews). In other words, Moses wondered if Og's longevity was a sign of divine favor, a reward for good deeds that Moses couldn't see.

There was more. Moses remembered that Og was the only giant who had escaped the clutches of Amraphel (perhaps another story for another time!). Could this escape also be a sign of God's protection? Moses even worried about the Israelites themselves. Had they sinned in their recent war against Sihon? Would God withdraw his support? "The pious are always afraid of the consequences of sin, and therefore do not rely upon the assurances God had made to them."

So, here's Moses, wrestling with doubt, fear, and a healthy dose of humility. Even with God’s promise of victory, he hesitated. Have you ever been there? Promised success, but still feeling that nagging fear of failure?

But then, God speaks. And what does God say? It's fascinating. God essentially tells Moses, "Don't worry about Og's supposed good deeds or his age. His fate was sealed long ago." God reminds Moses that Og's destruction was decreed when he looked with an evil eye upon Jacob and his family when they arrived in Egypt. "O thou wicked knave, why dost thou look upon them with all evil eye? Verily, thine eye shall burst, for thou shalt fall into their hands" (Legends of the Jews). According to this tradition, Og's downfall wasn't about his strength or even his present actions. It was about a past act of malice, a moment of looking upon the children of Israel with ill intent. It was about that "ayin hara," the evil eye.

So, what's the takeaway? Maybe it's this: Appearances can be deceiving. A long life doesn't necessarily equal a righteous life. And sometimes, the seeds of our destruction are sown long before we even realize it. Og may have seemed invincible, but his fate was already written. And Moses, despite his fears, was exactly where he needed to be.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 4:46Legends of the Jews

The familiar story is this: the flood, the animals two-by-two, a new beginning. But what about the creatures that almost didn't make it? Or the ones that hitched a ride in the most unexpected ways?

In Legends of the Jews, a treasure trove of Jewish folklore compiled by Louis Ginzberg, there was one animal, the re’em (often translated as a wild ox or unicorn, depending on the source), that Noah simply couldn't fit. Imagine the logistical nightmare! This wasn't your average house cat. The re’em was so enormous it couldn't find room inside the ark. So, what did Noah do? He tied it to the ark, and the mighty re’em ran alongside, battling the rising waters.

Then there’s Og, king of Bashan. Now, Og is a figure of immense proportions in Jewish lore – literally. And Noah couldn’t make space for him inside the ark either. So, where did he go? Og, being the resourceful giant he was, sat on top of the ark! Can you picture that? Balancing precariously as the flood raged below. The story goes that Noah, in exchange for Og's promise of eternal servitude from him and his descendants, doled out food to him daily through a hole in the ark's roof. A precarious bargain struck amidst a world-ending deluge!

The ark wasn't just a refuge for animals of flesh and blood. It seems abstract concepts were seeking shelter too. The Legends of the Jews tells us that Sheker, Falsehood, also came seeking refuge. But Noah turned him away. Why? Because Noah was only admitting creatures in pairs, and Falsehood was all alone.

So, Falsehood goes off in search of a partner, and who does he meet? Pora’anut, Misfortune! They strike a deal: Misfortune gets to keep whatever Falsehood earns. A match made in… well, you can imagine. Together, they’re finally allowed onto the ark.

But the story doesn't end there. After the flood, Falsehood realizes that everything he gathers just vanishes. He confronts Misfortune, and she simply reminds him of their agreement: "Did we not agree to the condition that I might take what you earn?" And so, Falsehood is left empty-handed, a fitting end for a creature whose very essence is emptiness.

What does this little story, nestled within the larger narrative of Noah's Ark, tell us? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in times of great upheaval and rebirth, the seeds of negativity. Falsehood and Misfortune, persist. They find ways to survive, even thrive, and their consequences are as real as any physical threat. Maybe it's a commentary on the nature of truth and the fleeting nature of ill-gotten gains. Or perhaps it’s just a quirky reminder that even in the most epic of tales, there's room for a little bit of the absurd. Whatever the interpretation, it's a story that sticks with you, long after the floodwaters recede.

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Legends of the Jews 5:101Legends of the Jews

I'm not just talking metaphorically big, but physically, impossibly huge. Let's

Og wasn't just tall; he was…unwieldy, let's say. Imagine someone so massive that a regular wooden chair or bed would just crumble beneath him. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, paints a vivid picture, noting that Og's breadth was half his height – a far cry from the usual one-to-three proportion. This wasn't just a big guy; this was a being built on a different scale entirely.

Get this: In his younger days, this colossal figure was actually a slave to Abraham! Can you imagine? According to some traditions, Og is none other than Eliezer, Abraham's steward. This connection is fascinating! We find in Sefer ha-Yashar that Nimrod gifted Og to Abraham! One story, recounted in Legends of the Jews based on various Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sources, says that Abraham once rebuked Eliezer so fiercely that a tooth fell out. Abraham, resourceful as ever, then fashioned the tooth into a bed!

Og’s appetite matched his size. We read that he devoured a thousand oxen, or an equivalent amount of other animals, daily! And he needed a thousand measures of liquid to wash it all down. That's some serious catering!

So, what happened to this giant servant? Abraham freed him as a reward for his work in finding Rebekah as a bride for Isaac. We find this in Ginzberg's retelling, drawing from various Midrashim. Quite the task, wouldn't you say? And then, in a twist that speaks to the complexities of divine justice, God made him a king. Why? The Midrash explains that God wanted to give Og his reward in this world, so he couldn't claim one in the world to come.

As king, Og founded sixty cities, each surrounded by walls that were, get this, sixty miles high at their lowest point! It boggles the mind, doesn’t it? A evidence of Og's impossible scale, and perhaps a reminder that even those who seem larger than life are ultimately part of a story much bigger than themselves.

What does Og’s story leave us to ponder? Perhaps it's about the unexpected roles people play in our lives, or the strange ways that justice can be served. Maybe it's just a reminder that the universe of Jewish lore is filled with characters and stories that push the boundaries of imagination. Whatever it is, the tale of Og, the giant king, is one that sticks with you.

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Legends of the Jews 5:108Legends of the Jews

In Jewish tradition, the battles against Sihon and Og, the kings of the Amorites, loom incredibly large. The sages even equated these triumphs to the monumental victory over Pharaoh at the Red Sea!

In Legends of the Jews, these weren't just minor skirmishes. They were huge. Some say they were as important as Joshua's later conquest of thirty-one kings! Ginzberg, drawing from various Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sources, explains that Israel should have sung songs of praise then, just like they did after escaping Pharaoh. It was that significant.

In a way, they did. David, much later, composed songs of gratitude for God’s help in those very victories against Sihon and Og. It's as if David was retroactively acknowledging the incredible importance of what had occurred generations before.

How did these victories actually happen? Was it all just mighty warriors clashing steel? Well, yes, in part. But Jewish tradition often layers the physical with the miraculous, the seen with the unseen. In this case, it wasn’t just swords and shields. God sent… hornets.

Yes, you read that right. Hornets.

Now, we're not talking about your average buzzing nuisances. These were divinely appointed agents of destruction. Midrashic sources tell us that two hornets were sent after every Amorite warrior. One stung one eye, the other the other. And their venom wasn't just painful – it was lethal.

The Zohar, the foundational text of Jewish mysticism, adds another layer to the story. These hornets, it says, remained on the eastern side of the Jordan River. They didn’t physically cross over with the Israelites into Canaan. However, that didn't stop them from wreaking havoc on the Canaanites on the western side.

How, you ask? Well, these hornets would stand on the eastern bank and spit their venom across the river! Any Canaanite unfortunate enough to be struck by this airborne toxin would instantly go blind and become disarmed. An entire army, weakened and vulnerable, not by direct combat, but by… divine insect warfare.

What does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that even the smallest of creatures can be instruments of immense power. Maybe it's about how divine intervention can work in mysterious, unexpected ways. Or maybe it's a reminder that even seemingly small victories can have ripple effects far beyond what we initially imagine. The venom of those hornets, after all, reached across a river and changed the course of history.

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Legends of the Jews 5:100Legends of the Jews

The Israelites certainly did when they encountered OG, the king of Bashan.

The story of their battle with Og is wild, and it starts at the very edge of Edrei. Imagine this: The Israelites arrive near the city as night begins to fall. Exhausted, they prepare for battle the next day. Moses, their leader, wakes at the crack of dawn, ready to strike. He looks toward the city, and what does he see? An entirely new, massive wall seemingly erected overnight! He cries out in astonishment.

Here’s the thing: there was no wall.

In Legends of the Jews, the "wall" was actually OG himself, sitting on the actual wall, his feet planted firmly on the ground below. Moses, peering through the morning mist, simply mistook Og's immense size for a newly built fortification. Can you blame him?

Og was that big.

We're talking legendary proportions. Think Goliath, then supersize him. And this isn't just hearsay. We have accounts that try to quantify the sheer scale of this giant. One particularly vivid description comes from a grave-digger of later times.

He claimed that Og's thigh bone alone measured more than three parasangs. A parasang, by the way, is an ancient unit of distance, roughly equivalent to 3-4 miles!

Abba Saul even recounts a story, preserved in the tradition, that emphasizes this point: "Once," he says, "I hunted a stag which fled into the thigh bone of a dead man. I pursued it and ran along three parasangs of the thigh-bone, yet had not reached its end." This bone, it was later determined, belonged to none other than OG.

It's a mind-boggling image, isn't it? An entire chase scene unfolding inside a single bone. It really drives home the point: OG was an adversary unlike any other.

So, what are we to make of this story? Is it simply a fantastical tale meant to entertain? Perhaps. But it's also a powerful reminder that even the most daunting obstacles, the "giants" in our own lives, can be overcome. Even when they seem as large as a city wall, we can, like Moses, find the courage to face them.

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