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Sihon, Og, and the Mercy Hidden Inside Their Destruction

Psalm 136 places Sihon and Og defeat among God acts of mercy. The rabbis asked who that mercy was for, and found the answer inside the giants angelic patrons.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Giant on the Roof of the Ark
  2. What Made Sihon and Og So Dangerous
  3. Why Og Required Special Reassurance
  4. The Litany That Holds the Destruction

The Giant on the Roof of the Ark

Og, king of Bashan, had survived the Flood. The Targum Jonathan on Genesis 14 says he rode on top of Noah's Ark through the forty days of water, too large to fit inside, fed through a hole in the roof by Noah himself. He swore an oath that he would be Noah's slave forever in exchange for the food. And Noah complied, and Og survived the waters that drowned every other creature of his kind.

He was the last of the Rephaim, the giant race that had filled the land before ordinary human beings inherited it. He waited through the centuries. He watched Abraham come up from the east. He was actually present at the battle of the four kings, the Targum Jonathan says, the one who brought Abraham the news that Lot had been captured. He was still alive, centuries later, when Israel came up out of Egypt and began moving through the wilderness toward Canaan. He stood in their path. And God told Moses: do not fear him.

What Made Sihon and Og So Dangerous

Midrash Tehillim, working with Psalm 136:17-20, asks why the psalm treats the defeat of Sihon and Og as an act of mercy. Mercy for whom? They were not Israelites. They were enemies. Their destruction cleared the road for Israel. But the psalm includes their defeat in the great litany of divine mercies, each verse closing with for his mercy endures forever, the same refrain used for the splitting of the sea and the exodus from Egypt and the creation of the sun and moon. Why does their destruction belong on that list?

The answer the midrash develops is about angelic powers. Sihon and Og were not simply military opponents. They were protected by heavenly princes, the celestial representatives of their nations who argued for them in the divine court. Every nation had such a prince, an angelic advocate who could intercede, delay judgment, and prolong the nation's existence. To defeat Sihon and Og on the battlefield, Israel first needed those angelic powers neutralized in the heavenly realm. The mercy was not only for Israel. It was also structural: the defeat meant the angelic forces that had given these kings their power were themselves overcome.

Why Og Required Special Reassurance

God told Moses specifically: do not fear him. Not the general command to trust God that appears throughout the wilderness narrative. A targeted reassurance, directed at Og by name. The Legends of the Jews explains why: Moses was afraid of Og because Og was the man who had served Abraham. He had a merit from that service, a connection to the founding of the covenant. Moses was afraid that Og's merit from Abraham would stand up in the heavenly court and protect him. God's reassurance was not just about military odds. It was a declaration that Og's ancient connection to Abraham had already been accounted for and would not shield him.

Og's size was, as Legends of the Jews records it, built on a different scale from ordinary human beings. His breadth was half his height, an abnormal proportion. In his youth he had been Eliezer, Abraham's servant, in some traditions, the man who negotiated Rebecca's betrothal to Isaac and who had spent decades in Abraham's household learning what a man near the covenant looked like from the outside. He had been near enough to the covenant to know its shape without ever entering it. His merit was the merit of proximity.

The Litany That Holds the Destruction

Psalm 136 places Sihon and Og between the crossing of the Red Sea and the giving of the land to Israel as an inheritance. They are the last obstacle before the inheritance. The for his mercy endures forever that closes their verse is addressed to Israel: God's mercy to you included clearing away the last two beings in the world whose existence could have stopped you. The destruction was merciful in the precise sense that it completed something. The sea crossing and the wilderness and Sinai and forty years of wandering had all been moving toward the land. Sihon and Og were the door, and the mercy was in opening it.


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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.

Midrash Tehillim 136:6Midrash Tehillim

Ever hear a story so wild, so larger-than-life, that you just have to lean in and ask, "Wait, really?" Well, buckle up, because We're exploring a passage from Midrash Tehillim, specifically Psalm 136, and it's all about giants, divine intervention, and the enduring mercy of God.

The verse in question sings of God "striking down great kings," and the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), in its wonderful way, expands on this. It immediately brings to mind the stories of Sihon and Og, two figures who loom large – quite literally – in the Israelite narrative. "Yet it was I who destroyed the Amorite before them, whose height was like the height of cedars and who was as strong as oaks," we read in (Amos 2:9). The Midrash paints Sihon as nearly invincible, "as hard as a tower and wall, and harder than any other creature, taller than any tower, and his feet touched the ground." No one, apparently, could stand before him. So how did the Israelites overcome such a formidable foe?

Divine intervention, of course! the verse says, God sent an angel to strike him down, uprooting him from his place and delivering him into the hands of Israel. It's a dramatic image, isn't it? A single angel dismantling this seemingly impenetrable giant. The Midrash goes on to say that Sihon and Og were even harder to defeat than Pharaoh and his armies. That's saying something! Just as the Israelites sang a song of praise after the Exodus, they were worthy of a song after defeating Sihon and Og.

It was David who eventually immortalized them in song, in Psalm 136: "To strike down great kings, for His mercy endures forever; and Og, king of Bashan, for His mercy endures forever."

Now, let's zoom in on Og. He's a character shrouded in mystery and legend. Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish, quoting Bar Kapara, even suggests that Og's original name was Pelit (פָּלִט), referencing (Genesis 14:13), "And he who had escaped [Pelit] came and told Abram the Hebrew." Why was he called Og then? Because, the story goes, he found Abraham preparing matzah (מַצָּה), unleavened bread, for Passover.

But the real showstopper comes when Moses and the Israelites approach the border of Edrei. Moses, planning to conquer the city, is met with a truly unbelievable sight. As the Midrash tells it, he looks up and sees Og sitting on the wall, his feet planted firmly on the ground. Moses is bewildered: "I don't know what I'm seeing. A different wall has been built here tonight." God clarifies: "That is Og whom you see."

Rabbi Yochanan adds a detail that truly boggles the mind: Og's legs were eighteen cubits long! That's roughly 27 feet! But the story doesn't end there. Og, in a moment of epic defiance, uproots a mountain and hurls it at the Israelites! Moses, ever the resourceful leader, takes a beam, inscribes the explicit Name of God upon it, and throws it back at Og.

The reactions of the surrounding nations are priceless. "Cursed be the hands that throw," cry the Israelites, perhaps fearing the power unleashed. "Cursed be the hands that support," retort the Amorites, recognizing the threat Og posed to them as well.

What are we to make of these stories? Are they literal accounts of historical events? Perhaps. Are they allegories, metaphors for the challenges and obstacles the Israelites faced? Absolutely. They illustrate the awesome power of God, the resilience of the Israelites, and the importance of remembering God's mercy, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. These stories resonate because they speak to something deep within us – the knowledge that even giants can fall, and that even the smallest of us can overcome great challenges with faith and courage. It makes you wonder, what "giants" are we facing in our lives, and what "beams" can we inscribe with divine power to overcome them?

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Targum Jonathan on Genesis 14Targum Jonathan

Genesis 14 is a war chapter, four kings against five, a battle in the Valley of Siddim, Lot taken captive, Abraham riding to the rescue. The Hebrew text is spare and military. But the ancient Aramaic translators of Targum Jonathan turned it into something extraordinary, weaving in giants, secret identities, and a character who survived the Flood itself.

The Targum's most spectacular addition concerns Og, who appears in the Hebrew only as a footnote king of Bashan. Here he becomes a survivor of the deluge, a giant who "had ridden protected upon the top of the ark, and sustained with food by Noah." But the Targum immediately clarifies: Og was not spared for any righteousness. He survived so "the inhabitants of the world might see the power of the Lord" and remember that giants once rebelled and perished. Og was a living museum exhibit of divine judgment.

The kings themselves get decoded. Amraphel "is Nimrod," the same tyrant who threw Abraham into the furnace. Ariok is named because he was arik, "tall among the giants." Each king's name becomes an etymology revealing character: Bera means "whose deeds were evil," Birsha means "whose deeds were with the wicked," Shinab "had hated his father," and Shemebar "had corrupted himself with fornication." The Targum reads every proper noun as a moral judgment.

When Abraham's servants refused to fight, the Targum says he chose a single man: Eliezer the son of Nimrod, "who was equal in strength to all the three hundred and eighteen." The Hebrew Bible's army of 318 trained men becomes one superhuman warrior. And Og, who brought Abraham the news about Lot's capture, arrived "upon the eve of the day of the Pascha" and found Abraham "making the unleavened cakes." The translators placed the first war of liberation on Passover eve, centuries before the Exodus.

Most dramatically, the mysterious Melchizedek, "king of Salem" in Genesis (Genesis 14:18), is identified as "Shem bar Noah, the king of Yerushalem." Noah's son Shem was still alive, still a priest, ruling Jerusalem and blessing Abraham with bread and wine. The Targum collapsed the genealogy: the world before the Flood and the world of the patriarchs were connected by one living man.

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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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