‘The Giants Always Lose’ Lech Lecha 5786
Our characteristics, physical and social, are functions of both nature and nurture. Our parents determine whether we are tall or short, aggressive or passive, dull or sharp. I had the bad luck of having a father who was an ardent New York Giants fan. My brother and I both suffer from this malady. I have passed it on to my sons and my oldest grandson has been diagnosed with it, as well. Other than 1986, 1991, 2007 and 2011, I have received far more frustration from the Giants than satisfaction. But I really have no choice in the matter. It’s in the gut.
The Giants feature prominently in the Portion of Lech Lecha. The Torah tells the story of an alliance of four kings, or warlords. These kings, led by Kdorla’omer, King of Eilam, subjugated the other local leaders, demanding obeisance and tribute. Eventually five other kings from the Sodom Metropolitan Area become fed up with this system and revolt. Kedorla’omer and his allies respond brutally [Bereishit 14:4-5]: “Kedorla’omer and the kings who were with him came and defeated the Rephaim at Ashteroth-Karnaim, the Zuzim at Ham, the Eimim at Shaveh-Kiriathaim, and the Horites in their hill country of Seir as far as El-paran, which is by the wilderness”. The nations routed by Kedorla’omer were not weaklings. The Ibn Ezra[1], interpreting the names of the nations according to their Hebrew meanings, suggests that the Rephaim, meaning “Ghost” in Hebrew, were so called because their appearance was so terrifying that whoever saw them died. The Eimim, meaning “Terror” in Hebrew, were so called because they were frightening. Eventually, the four kings, who must have been quite ferocious themselves, capture Sodom, where Abraham’s nephew, Lot, is living. Abraham hears that Lot has been captured and he runs to extricate him from captivity and he defeats the four kings in battle[2]. The war is won, Lot is returned to Sodom and everyone lives happily ever after. The end.
The Torah is not a history book. It is a book of ethics. The trials and tribulations of the Rephaim should be irrelevant. The only part of the story that is at all relevant to Abraham and his descendants – we who received the Torah – is the rescue of Lot. Everything else is gravy. Why does the Torah bog us down with the details? Rabbi Gedaliah Nadel[3], writing in “B’Torato Shel Rav Gedaliah”, asserts that in stories like these, the takeaway is in the response of the hero of the story. The facts are included for the purposes of completeness. I suggest that while Abraham’s response is critical to the moral of this story, a seemingly extraneous factoid can teach valuable lessons.
Let’s take a closer look at the kingdoms defeated by the Four King Alliance: the Rephaim, the Eimim, and the Horim. The Sefaria website has no less than twelve English translations of the text and every one of them but one – the translation of Rabbi Shraga Silverstein[4] – translates “Rephaim” as “the Rephaim”. This translation is imprecise. The Torah does not say “ha’Rephaim” with the “definite [letter] Heh (Heh ha’yedia)”, like it says “Ha’Eimim” and “Ha’Hori”. It just says[5] “Rephaim”. Why? This question is asked by Rabbi Asher Wasserteil[6], writing in “Birkat Asher”, who answers that perhaps the Torah means to tell us that the Four King Alliance did not kill all of the Rephaim. Perhaps some of them survived. Perhaps one of them survived, specifically, Og. Og the giant. Og, who according to our Sages in the Midrash, was saved from the Flood by holding onto Noach’s ark and who tried to kill Abraham and marry his wife, Sarah. Og, the King of Bashan who was eventually defeated by Moshe. The Torah tells us [Devarim 3:11]: “Only King Og of Bashan was left of the remaining Rephaim.” According to Rashi[7] [Devarim 1:4], these are the very same Rephaim who were defeated by the Four King Alliance. Well, if this was the same Og, he would have been about five hundred years old when he went to battle against Moshe. Why is it so important that Rashi identify these two people as being one and the same?
When Franklin D. Roosevelt told a trembling nation in 1933 “We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” he was not just offering comfort, rather, he was diagnosing a national illness. Decades later, Daniel Kahneman, an Israeli who won the Nobel Prize in Economics, would give Roosevelt’s insight scientific weight. Kahneman’s work in behavioural economics revealed that fear is not just a reaction to danger – it is a distortion of judgment. It is what Kahneman would call “System-1 thinking”: fast, emotional, and often wrong. Roosevelt understood that fear could paralyse a nation more effectively than any economic collapse. Kahneman explained why: loss aversion makes us overreact to potential losses, the availability heuristic makes dramatic events feel more common than they are, and social contagion spreads panic like wildfire. Roosevelt’s brilliance lay in reframing fear itself as the enemy, nudging the public toward rational courage. This was not just rhetoric – it was behavioural design. Roosevelt did not change interest rates; he changed the national mindset. Kahneman would call this “choice architecture,” shaping environments to guide better decisions. Roosevelt’s speech was a metacognitive intervention, inviting Americans to recognize fear as a bias, not a truth. Both men – Roosevelt with his words, Kahneman with his data – sought to free us from the tyranny of our own minds. They taught us that the greatest threat is not the crisis itself, but how we think about it.
This is what the Torah is teaching us. Og represents more than just a physical adversary – he embodies existential fear. When the Israelites approach the land of Bashan, G-d tells Moshe [Devarim 3:2]: “Do not fear him.” Why would Moshe fear Og more than other kings? The Israelites had just defeated Sichon the Amorite, yet Og’s reputation stirred panic. Og was a symbol of overwhelming, irrational dread. His size and mythic status made him seem invincible, even though his defeat was assured. Og’s presence triggers Kahneman’s System-1 thinking. G-d’s reassurance was not tactical – it was psychological. It is a divine nudge toward System-2: deliberate, rational courage. Og represents the kind of fear that distorts judgment, the kind that makes us forget past victories and Divine promises. He is the embodiment of the voice that says, “This time is different. This time we won’t make it.” But the Torah’s message is clear: fear itself is the enemy. Og may be large, but he is not larger than G-d’s Plan.
In confronting Og, Israel learns that courage isn’t the absence of fear – it is the refusal to let fear define reality. Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch[8] asserts that the Jewish People were specifically planted in the Land of Israel, a land with no natural borders[9], a land exquisitely dependent upon rainwater. He did this to instil in us a strong sense of trust from the get-go. Without faith, Israel as a national home is doomed to fail. But fear is only one threat. “Deliberate, rational courage” is equally threatening. Because life in Israel is anything but rational. It is faith-driven, purpose-driven, and often counterintuitive. And that is precisely the point. The Torah doesn’t just teach us how to fight giants – it teaches us how to live among them, unafraid. And make no mistake: the Giants always lose.
Ari Sacher, Moreshet, 5786
Please daven for a Refu’a Shelema for Iris bat Chana, Shlomo ben Esther, Sheindel Devora bat Rina, Esther Sharon bat Chana Raizel, Esther bat Hila, Meir ben Drora, and Hodayah Emunah bat Shoshana Rachel.
[1] Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra, usually referred to as “The Ibn Ezra,” lived in Cordoba, Spain, at the turn of the 12th century.
[2] Defeat of the enemy led to the freeing of the hostages. What a concept.
[3] Rabbi Nadel lived in Bnei Brak, Israel, during the last century. He was a close disciple of the Chazon Ish.
[4] Rabbi Silverstein was born in Brooklyn. He emigrated to Jerusalem in 1963.
[5] ChatGPT made an even more egregious error: It incorrectly quoted the verse in Hebrew using the definitive “Ha’Rephaim”. Talk about hallucinating.
[6] Rabbi Wasserteil lived in Jerusalem in the previous century.
[7] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, known by his acronym “Rashi,” was the most eminent of the medieval commentators. He lived in northern France in the 11th century.
[8] Rabbi Hirsch lived in Frankfurt am Mein in the 19th century.
[9] The current border with Lebanon is completely arbitrary. There is no natural separation, just an invisible line. A natural border would have been the Litani River, about 15 km north of the current border.
