The Hebrew chroniclers tell us that the giants of their land were the children of the fallen angels who took to themselves wives from the beautiful daughters of men. When these huge beings had consumed the possessions of their neighbors, they began to devour even the human beings themselves; and from this horrible example men came to kill and eat birds, animals and fishes.
Of these terrific and wicked ones, merely to glance at whom made one’s heart grow weak, the most celebrated was Og. His mother Enac was a daughter of Adam. Like all of his race he was by nature half mortal: for being part angel, part human, these monsters, after a very long life, found themselves with but half a body, the rest having withered away; and with the prospect of remaining forever in this uncomfortable state, they were wont either to plunge into the sea or to end this miserable half existence by means of a magic herb, the secret of which had been transmitted by their celestial ancestors. Og, however, was destined, in this as in other matters, for a different fate from that of his brethren.
When the wickedness and arrogance of the Cainites brought the Flood upon the earth, Noah, as commanded, gathered his family and the animals into the ark he had built. All the rest of the miserable folk perished in the waters—with the single exception of the giant Og. The latter had persuaded Noah to save him by promising that he and his descendants would in return serve the family of Noah forever. But when they came to embark, it was discovered that the vessel was not large enough to accommodate this huge creature; so he was permitted to sit on top of the ark; and during those weary months when the waters covered the face of the earth, those within passed food to the giant through a hole in the roof.
There are, indeed, writers who declare that Og escaped because his stature was such that the deluge at its deepest reached only to his knees, he being accustomed to drink water direct from the clouds. In fact, Abba Saul avers: “I once hunted a stag which fled into the thigh-bone of a dead man. I pursued it and ran along three parasangs” (about eight miles!) “of the thigh-bone, yet had not yet reached its end”—and this bone proved to be a portion of Og’s skeleton. In Moses' time, however, the giant’s great iron-bedstead—“is it not in Rabbath of the children of Ammon?"—was a mere thirteen or fourteen feet long. Whatever his height, his breadth was half as great, instead of only one-third as in the normal man.
There was also one animal too large to enter the ark, the reëm or unicorn. It was therefore tied to the stern and “ran on behind.” Undoubtedly this difficult mode of travelling proved fatal, since we have no authentic record of that beast since then.
Og had better fortune. Whether wading or bestriding the vessel, he won through; for we find him again some hundreds of years later as the slave of Abraham, to whom he had been presented by Nimrod. (He was, say the rabbins, that very steward called Eliezer in the Bible account.) Finally, after these centuries of servitude, his master freed him as a reward for bringing back Rebekah as a bride for his son Isaac.
“God also rewarded him in this world, that this wicked wight might not lay claim to a reward in the world to come. He therefore made a king of him.” He had also received another doubtful reward for a difficult service. Hearing that Abraham’s nephew Lot had been carried away into captivity, he sped with the news, and stood by when all others were fearful, thinking in his heart that his master would hasten to his kinsman’s help, and would be killed by the marauding kings—which would leave the beautiful Sarah as his own prize. Consequently he was granted another five hundred years of life, but on the conclusion of that term he was to be completely mortal.
Long did this gigantic monarch of gigantic adventures reign in Bashan, east of the Jordan River. Sixty walled cities did he found, and great was his power and fame in all that land. Of his own race to the south was Sihon, King of the Amorites; and across the Dead Sea was another family of his blood, Anak and his sons and daughters. All the kings of Canaan paid tribute to Og of Bashan in return for the defence of their borders by his might. Even had he known of it, he would have been little troubled to hear that the Israelitish slaves of Pharaoh had escaped from bondage in Egypt, and were slowly moving northward through the desert towards Canaan.
Great indeed would have been his amusement had he seen the slinking spies sent out by Moses, when they reached the “City of Four” (Kiriath-Arba, or Hebron), where dwelt Anak and his mighty brood. At the mere shout of one of the sons the spies fell down as dead men; and one day the Israelites heard the Anakim roar to each other as they looked toward the trembling strangers: “There are grasshoppers by the trees that have the semblance of men.”
But in spite of the timorous report of most of these scouts—“we be not able to go up against these people; for they are stronger than we”—the day arrived when word came to Og that this band of wanderers had smitten the Amorites, and killed Sihon and his son, and captured the impregnable city of Heshbon, and taken possession of all that region.
This brought the invaders to the very edge of Og’s dominions, and when they had rested, they pressed on against the stronghold of Edrei.
Toward night they reached the outskirts, and Moses prepared to attack the following day. At dawn he rose and went forward to reconnoitre; but as he looked ahead through the grayness he cried out:
“Behold, in the night they have built up a new wall about the city!”
Then the light grew gradually stronger, and he perceived that what he had taken for a new fortification was the giant king himself, who sat upon the wall with his feet touching the earth.
Sore dismayed was the Israelitish host at sight of this incredible being, who gazed upon them with scornful confidence. Even Moses himself hesitated and began to feel doubtful. Not only did ordinary weapons seem unavailing against such a prodigy, but he reflected that this giant was reputed to have lived for hundreds of years: “Surely he could never have attained so great an age had he not performed meritorious deeds.” He reflected too that Og was the only one of the original giant brood who had escaped the sword of the angel Amraphel, and it seemed therefore as if he must be under some sort of divine protection.
While he thus communed with himself and sought for guidance in prayer, he seemed to hear from on high a direct answer to his questionings:
“What matters to thee Og’s gigantic stature? He is as a green leaf in thy hand.”
At this he took courage. Yet he could not understand in what manner he might come at the monster, since apparently no weapon he could handle would come anywhere near reaching to his knees.
So he waited, considering this matter. And presently the giant bestirred himself and set about bringing the issue to a close in characteristic fashion. For, noting closely the size of the encampment of the Israelites, he heaved up a huge rock, like a veritable mountain, vast enough to cover the entire camp. Bearing this upon his head, he strode forward, clearly intending to crush the entire force of his enemies at one blow.
Ill would it have fared with the band under Moses that day had they been dependent upon their own might alone. But as the giant advanced, and all waited in terror for the catastrophe, the colossal mass of rock was seen to settle down over his head. He stood still, blinded and bewildered, endeavoring to throw off this imprisoning bulk; but all his efforts were unavailing.
Then Moses, perceiving that the enemy was delivered into his hands, seized a mighty axe, and ran forward, and leaped into the air higher than an ordinary man’s head, and dealt such a blow upon Og’s leg that he crashed to earth with the rock on top of him.
Thus died Og, King of Bashan, last of the giants who were before the Flood.
And the warriors of Israel fell upon the army which had accompanied him, and conquered it utterly, and took possession of all that land.