Nephilim Aren’t Aliens: The Bible Is a Very Real Read
Genesis 6 isn’t sci-fi. It’s a mirror, showing what happens when power gets worshiped, women get taken, and violence becomes normal.
A quick disclaimer before we start
This isn’t an attempt to “debunk” the supernatural or explain away miracles. Scripture is saturated with the unseen realm and with God doing what only God can do. [Exod 14; 2 Kgs 6:17]
The point here is simpler: we shouldn’t import spectacle into a passage when the text itself is making a morally direct argument—and when the chapter’s own emphasis is corruption, predation, and violence filling the earth. [Gen 6:5; Gen 6:11–13]
Genesis 6 is one of those passages people either sensationalize or avoid.
If you sensationalize it, you get an “ancient cosmic thriller” that doesn’t touch your life.
If you avoid it, you miss one of the Bible’s most sobering portraits of how societies rot from the top down.
But there’s a third way: slow down, read the Hebrew like the writer intended, and let the text press you—without trying to force it into a genre it never claimed to be.
The irony is that the “real” reading is usually the more uncomfortable one.
Because the passage may be mysterious in places, but it’s not vague about the moral shape of what’s happening.
Start where the text starts: what does Genesis 6 actually emphasize?
Genesis 6:1–4 is short, and that’s part of the signal. The narrator isn’t writing a mythology handbook. He’s staging a moral escalation that immediately leads into God’s diagnosis of the world:
human inner life bent toward evil [Gen 6:5]
God grieved [Gen 6:6]
corruption and violence saturating society [Gen 6:11–13]
So before we debate labels, the chapter itself puts a spotlight on trajectory: desire becomes entitlement, power becomes predation, and violence becomes the air people breathe.
That’s the big frame. Now we can examine the most misconstrued words inside it.
The passage turns on a simple Hebrew sequence
Genesis 6:2 has a tight narrative spine:
“They saw” [Gen 6:2]
“that they were tovot” (desirable/pleasing/attractive) [Gen 6:2]
“and they took” wives [Gen 6:2]
If you’ve been living in Genesis, that cadence should sound familiar.
Genesis 3:6 uses the same moral rhythm: saw → desirable/good → took. [Gen 3:6]
The Torah does this often: it teaches with patterns. It doesn’t just tell you, “this is evil.” It shows you how evil moves—how it rationalizes itself.
So ask yourself: why would Genesis intentionally echo Eden here?
And what does it mean when a private act of grasping becomes public policy?
“Sons of God” — what does the Hebrew allow, and what does it demand?
The phrase in question is בְּנֵי הָאֱלֹהִים (b’nei ha’elohim). [Gen 6:2]
Some readers hear that and immediately import a full angelology. Others dismiss it like it’s nothing. Neither move is careful.
Here’s the clean exegesis move: don’t ask, “What’s the most exciting possibility?” Ask, “What semantic range exists in Torah, and what best fits this paragraph’s moral engine?”
In legal sections of Torah, elohim can refer to human authorities/judges operating in God’s delegated authority. [Exod 21:6; Exod 22:8–9]
That’s why a long-standing Jewish line of interpretation reads Genesis 6 in a social frame: “sons of elohim” as the sons of the powerful—those near courts, rulers, and systems. It’s not a modern attempt to be rationalistic; it’s a textual possibility inside Torah’s own usage. [Gen 6:2; Exod 21:6; Exod 22:8–9]
So if we adopt the elite-rulers reading, we’re not claiming the passage proves it beyond argument. We’re saying: it fits the Hebrew range, and it fits the narrative outcome—violence filling the earth. [Gen 6:11–13]
And it raises an unsettling question: what if Genesis is describing not a supernatural invasion, but a moral one—power sanctifying itself?
“Tovot” — why “good” can be a trap word
Genesis says the “sons of God” saw that the daughters of man were טֹבֹת (tovot). [Gen 6:2]
In English, “good” carries moral weight. In Hebrew narrative, tov often carries the sense of what is pleasing, desirable, attractive—especially when paired with sight. [Gen 6:2; Gen 3:6]
That nuance matters because it’s exactly how people justify taking:
“I wanted it” becomes “it’s good.”
appetite becomes permission
desire becomes a moral argument
Genesis is exposing a human tendency that doesn’t require demons to be true.
So here’s the question worth sitting with: when a culture starts calling “desirable” the same thing as “right,” what happens to the vulnerable?
“They took” — the verb that turns the passage dark
The verb is וַיִּקְחוּ (vayikḥu), from לָקַח (laqach). [Gen 6:2]
Yes, laqach can be used neutrally. But verbs don’t live in dictionaries; they live in sentences. And Genesis immediately adds a phrase that hardens the ethical feel:
“They took wives from all whom they chose.” [Gen 6:2]
That line reads like boundaryless access. It’s not “they married.” It’s selection language.
And whatever else the text means, it’s hard to pretend the author is describing covenant beauty when the “choice” language is absolute and the outcome is societal violence. [Gen 6:2; Gen 6:11–13]
So try this thought experiment: if you remove every mystical assumption, does the passage still make coherent sense as a portrait of elite entitlement? If it does, why are we so quick to escape into fog?
“Nephilim” — why Genesis doesn’t let you turn it into a specimen jar
The term is הַנְּפִלִים (hannefilim). [Gen 6:4]
Genesis does not define it like a textbook. It places the term and then frames the cultural impression:
“Nephilim… on the earth” [Gen 6:4]
“and also afterward” [Gen 6:4]
“they were gibborim” [Gen 6:4]
“men of name/renown” [Gen 6:4]
So the passage itself is telling you where to look: not anatomy, but social power. Not “what are they made of,” but “what do they produce.”
If you insist Nephilim must mean something spectacular, you may end up answering a question the Torah isn’t asking.
The Torah seems more interested in this: the world was becoming the kind of place where violent men became legends.
That’s chillingly realistic.
“Gibborim” — mighty doesn’t mean righteous
The word is הַגִּבֹּרִים (haggibborim)—mighty/strong, often with a warrior sense. [Gen 6:4]
But “mighty” is morally neutral in Scripture. Strength can serve God or replace God. Genesis itself will later describe Nimrod as a mighty one and immediately associate him with the rise of empire logic. [Gen 10:8–10]
So Genesis 6 isn’t inviting hero worship. It’s describing a society where might becomes identity.
Here’s a question to ponder: in your own world, who counts as “mighty”? And what does society excuse when it calls someone “great”?
“Men of name” — fame as a spiritual counterfeit
The phrase is אַנְשֵׁי הַשֵּׁם (anshei hashem): men of “the name,” men of reputation. [Gen 6:4]
That sounds neutral—until you notice how Genesis treats “name” language.
Babel later speaks the impulse plainly: “Let us make a name for ourselves.” [Gen 11:4]
Genesis isn’t allergic to legacy. It’s allergic to self-made name—identity manufactured through power rather than received through covenant.
So when Genesis 6 links “men of name” with the slide toward violence, it invites a quiet but brutal question:
What happens when fame becomes moral authority?
Reading the chapter like a moral staircase
If we keep the exegesis clean, Genesis 6 sketches a progression without spelling everything out:
Perception becomes evaluation (“they saw”) [Gen 6:2]
Evaluation becomes justification (“they were tovot”) [Gen 6:2]
Justification becomes acquisition (“they took… whom they chose”) [Gen 6:2]
Acquisition becomes culture (mighty men, men of name) [Gen 6:4]
Culture becomes violence (violence fills the earth) [Gen 6:11–13]
The text is not just describing individual sin. It’s describing how a society starts rewarding the wrong men.
And once that happens, the next verses make sense: God doesn’t “snap.” He grieves. [Gen 6:6]
Your study must be beyond reproach
Don’t take my word for it.
A responsible reader asks: Does my interpretation require the text to say more than it says? If yes, you may be borrowing certainty from outside the passage. If no, you’re probably letting Scripture lead.
So here are a few pressure-test questions you can use on yourself:
If I’m certain, can I point to what the verbs actually do in the sentence, not just what the nouns might be? [Gen 6:2]
Does my reading harmonize with the chapter’s stated outcome—corruption and violence—or does it distract from it? [Gen 6:11–13]
If I make the passage more entertaining, do I accidentally make it less convicting?
If I remove the spectacle, does the moral warning still stand in full force? If yes, why am I adding spectacle? [Gen 6:2; Gen 6:5; Gen 6:11–13]
Genesis 6 doesn’t require monsters to explain monstrosity. It shows how a human society can become monstrous all by itself.
And that is exactly why God grieves—and why He acts. [Gen 6:6–7]
A Messianic addition, without hijacking the passage
Genesis 6 is Torah-first. So we don’t cram Messiah into it like a sticker. We let the pattern speak.
Still, once you see the moral architecture—grasping versus covenant—you start to notice a consistent biblical contrast:
Genesis 6 shows powerful men who take what they want. [Gen 6:2]
Messiah is revealed as the one who does the opposite: He gives Himself rather than grasping, and He uses power to serve rather than dominate. [Mark 10:45; Phil 2:6–8]
That doesn’t replace Genesis 6. It sharpens its moral line. It shows what human “greatness” looks like when it’s finally healed: strength under obedience, authority under love, power that protects instead of preys.
And it leaves the reader with a final question that’s hard to dodge:
When you see the world rewarding “men of name,” what kind of King are you actually longing for?
May the shalom of our Abba guard you —
shalom v’shalvah.
Your brother in the Way,
Sergio.




Sergio, thank you for publishing this.
I thrill at how you have rendered Genesis 6 with a rare combination of reverence and nerve: reverence for what the text actually says, and nerve enough to refuse the modern addiction to spectacle. You have managed to honor the spiritual, supernatural realm without allowing it to become an escape hatch from the Word's revelatory burden.
What I find so relevant in your study, and frankly prescient for our moment, is your insistence that Scripture’s moral architecture is often more confronting than our Christianized 'mythologies.'
Your expertise in tracing the Torah’s cadence, "they saw," "they desired," "they took," and you showed us how private appetite becomes public policy when power baptizes entitlement. That is not merely an ancient problem. That is a diagnostic of how civilizations collapse when “men of name” become the measure of what is right.
I also love the way you encourage the reader to make certain that the text need not become more entertaining to feel “deep.” In an age where celebrity is treated as moral authority, where might is confused with righteousness, and where desire is routinely recast as virtue, this reading sounds with warning, because it is.
Thank you for encouraging us to read Genesis 6 without fog and fear. You did not shrink from the supernatural; you just refused to let sensationalism eclipse the Holy Spirit’s intended thrust: God is grieved when the world rewards predation, and God will act.
Shalom v’shalvah, my brother.
Wendell Hutchins II
My first comment is to express my gratitude for your clarification of the text, using tovot. This is much more useful in understanding the emotion behind the action.