Parshat Chukat5 min read

Og Who Outlived the Flood and Finally Fell to Moses

Og rode the ark, served Abraham, mocked Isaac, and stood against Moses. The giant's death sentence was spoken long before Edrei while Isaac was still a child.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Giant Who Would Not Vanish
  2. How Og Survived the Flood
  3. In Abraham's House
  4. Moses Trembled and Was Reassured

The Giant Who Would Not Vanish

Most giants in the Hebrew Bible disappear after a verse. Og refuses to disappear. He is present at the Flood and survives it. He appears in Abraham's household as a servant. He mocks Isaac at a feast. He stands across the battlefield from Moses at Edrei with a mountain in his hands. He is killed. The tradition did not treat these appearances as scattered curiosities but as chapters in a single enormous biography.

How Og Survived the Flood

The Torah names eight human survivors: Noah, his wife, his three sons, their wives. Then Genesis 14:13 introduces a fugitive, ha-palit, who brings Abram news that Lot has been captured in war. The Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis, an Aramaic paraphrase of the Torah composed roughly in the seventh or eighth century CE, identifies this fugitive as Og.

The Targum's explanation is precise. Og had been spared from the giants who drowned in the Flood by riding on the outside of the ark while Noah fed him through a window cut in the hull. He was not spared because of righteousness. He was spared so the world would see God's power over the giants who had rebelled. He survived as evidence, a breathing remnant of the age before the Flood.

The Midrash Aggadah, the aggadic commentary traditions, and the Legends of the Jews compiled by Louis Ginzberg (1909-1938 CE) add the detail of his size. He was so large that he could not fit inside the ark. He rode the outside. The timber of the hull was his saddle. The flood that drowned every living thing on earth lapped at his heels for forty days and he stayed on top.

In Abraham's House

After the Flood, Og entered Abraham's household. The tradition preserved in Ginzberg's synthesis and the aggadic sources behind it says he served as Eliezer's assistant, later as a household slave. He was enormous and useful. Abraham fed him and treated him according to his obligations as a master. Og served in the household of the man he would eventually betray.

The betrayal came at a feast. The tradition records that Og attended the celebration when Isaac was weaned. He looked at the child and said, out loud, before the gathered guests, that this child was Abraham's only joy, and that he, Og, could kill Isaac with a single finger. The boast was not idle. The finger of a giant who had survived the Flood could do what he claimed.

God heard it. God told Abraham that Og would receive his punishment in time but that his time was not yet. The death sentence for the mockery of Isaac at the feast was spoken at that table. Og would continue to live, to grow older, to outlast one generation after another, carrying that sentence inside him without knowing when it would fall due.

Moses Trembled and Was Reassured

Numbers 21:33-35 records the battle at Edrei briefly. Israel came out against Og king of Bashan, and they defeated him. God had told Moses before the battle: Do not fear him. But the tradition behind the text records that Moses was afraid. The man who had faced Pharaoh, who had stood at the Sea of Reeds, who had brought forty years of wilderness travel to a close, was frightened of Og.

The reason preserved in the midrashic tradition is that Moses had heard what Og had survived. A creature who rode the outside of the ark through forty days of rain, who had served in the house of Abraham and watched every patriarch from Noah to Jacob grow old and die while he continued standing, was not an ordinary enemy. Moses was afraid of something that time itself had not been able to finish.

God reassured him. The debt from the feast, the death sentence for the finger pointed at Isaac, was finally due. Moses killed Og. The tradition says Moses could not have reached Og's ankle from the ground. He had to leap with his weapon. The giant died at Edrei with his neck trapped in the socket of a mountain he had tried to hurl at the Israelite camp.


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From the tradition

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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.

Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 14:13Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis

This is one of the most extraordinary passages in the entire Targum. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on (Genesis 14:13) takes a single Hebrew word, ha-palit, the fugitive who brought news to Abram. And identifies him by name. It is Og.

The same Og who will reappear centuries later as the giant king of Bashan whom Moses defeats at Edrei (Numbers 21:33, (Deuteronomy 3:1)1). The Targumist tells you that this Og is a survivor of the Flood itself. He rode the top of the ark, clinging to it like a barnacle, sustained by food that Noah handed him through the window.

The Aramaic is blunt about why he was spared: not being spared through high righteousness, but that the inhabitants of the world might see the power of the Lord. Og survives the Flood not as a reward. He survives as an exhibit. The Holy One wants the post-flood world to see, in one living giant, what the antediluvian titans looked like. Og is a walking archaeology.

Og shows up at Mamre on the eve of the Pascha. Passover, while Abram is making unleavened cakes. The Targum has just dropped the first Passover into the patriarchal era, centuries before the Exodus. And Og's motive, in this reading, is dark. He hopes Abram will go to war against the four kings, that Abram will be killed, and that Og can then take Sarah for himself.

The Targumist is telling you that even news-bearers have agendas. Og, the giant messenger, is already planning his own betrayal. And Abram, who hears only your nephew has been captured, will rise to rescue Lot without knowing the giant beside him hopes he dies trying.

The covenant survives because God sees further than the messenger.

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.

Full source
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.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 5:194Legends of the Jews

The joke being about your future descendants!

That’s precisely what happened at a feast hosted by none other than Abraham himself, as recounted in Ginzberg’s Legends of the Jews. Quite the guest list, wouldn't you say?

Then there’s Og, king of Bashan. Now, Og was, to put it mildly, enormous. Legend paints him as a giant, a remnant of a bygone era. He’s there at Abraham’s feast, amidst all this defeated royalty.

Can you picture the scene? The air thick with the aroma of roasted meats, the clinking of goblets, and the murmur of conversation. And then… the teasing begins.

The other guests, these kings and viceroys, they start to rib Og. They mock him for having once called Abraham a “sterile mule,” implying he’d never have children. Think about the audacity! To insult Abraham, the patriarch, in his own tent!

But Og, never one to back down, retorts with a sneer. He points to Isaac, a small boy at the time, and scoffs, "Were I to lay my finger upon him, he would be crushed." Can you imagine the sheer arrogance? The complete lack of respect?

And that's when things take a divine turn.

God, hearing Og’s boast and his mockery of the gift He had given to Abraham, intervenes. "Thou makest mock of the gift given to Abraham!" God declares. A powerful rebuke.

And then comes the prophecy, a solemn decree: "As thou livest, thou shalt look upon millions and myriads of his descendants, and in the end thou shalt fall into their hands."

Wow. Think about the weight of those words. Og, this mighty king, is told he will witness the rise of Abraham’s lineage, an unimaginable multitude, and ultimately, he will be defeated by them. The very people he so readily dismissed.

What does this story tell us? Perhaps it's a reminder that arrogance often precedes a fall. That even the mightiest among us are ultimately subject to a higher power. And that underestimating the potential of others, especially those who seem small or insignificant, can be a grave mistake. It also shows us that God protects those who have faith in Him.

It's a potent lesson, woven into the tradition of Jewish legend, that continues to resonate today.

Full source
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 5:103Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to Kingdom of Og.

Og. The name alone conjures images of a giant striding across the ancient landscape. And giant he was! We catch glimpses of him in the Torah (Numbers 21:33-35, (Deuteronomy 3:1-1)3), a king defeated by Moses and the Israelites. But the bare-bones biblical account leaves so much to the imagination, doesn't it? That's where the legends come in, filling in the gaps and painting a truly spectacular picture. And oh, what a picture it is!

In legends – specifically, as retold by Ginzberg in Legends of the Jews – Og’s demise was… well, let's just say it was epic. It wasn’t just a battle; it was a showdown for the ages.

Og, this behemoth of a man, sees the Israelite camp spread out before him. We're told it's a staggering three parasangs in circumference. Now, a parasang is an ancient unit of distance, roughly equivalent to about 3.5 miles. So, we're talking about a camp sprawling over ten miles! Og, in his arrogance, thinks, "Easy. I'll just tear up a mountain and crush them all!"

And that's exactly what he does. He uproots a mountain – remember, a mountain of three parasangs! – hoists it onto his head, and starts marching towards the Israelite camp, ready to obliterate them. Can you even imagine the sight?

But here's where the story takes a wonderfully whimsical turn. What did God do? He sends ants! Yes, tiny, seemingly insignificant ants. These aren’t just any ants, mind you. These are divinely appointed ants with a very important mission. They begin to bore holes through the mountain, so it slips from Og's head and lands squarely on his neck.

Now, Og tries to shake the mountain off, but his teeth, in a bizarre twist, grow outwards, becoming massive tusks that trap the mountain in place. So, there he stands, this colossal giant, utterly defeated by… a mountain stuck on his neck. Talk about irony!

Then Moses enters the scene. The Bible describes Moses as the most humble of men (Numbers 12:3). But in this moment, he is a warrior. He grabs an axe – a twelve-cubit axe, mind you (that's about 18 feet long!). He leaps ten cubits into the air, and strikes Og on the ankle, felling the giant.

It’s a fantastic image, isn’t it? The small and humble defeating the mighty. But what does it all mean?

Perhaps it's a reminder that true strength isn’t about brute force or physical size. Maybe it's about the power of divine intervention, the way God can use the smallest of things to topple the greatest of obstacles. Or perhaps it's about the dangers of arrogance, the way hubris can lead to a truly spectacular downfall.

Whatever the message, the story of Og's demise is a evidence of the power of Jewish legend, its ability to breathe life into the biblical narrative and offer us enduring lessons about strength, humility, and the ever-present hand of the divine.

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