Genesis 6:4

What does Genesis 6:4 mean?

The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that, when God’s sons came in to men’s daughters and had children with them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown.
Genesis 6:4 World English Bible (WEB)

The short answer

Genesis 6:4 is one of the strangest verses in the Bible. It mentions the Nephilim, mysterious figures who lived on the earth when "God's sons" had children with "men's daughters." Those children, the verse says, became "the mighty men who were of old, men of renown." Readers have puzzled for centuries over who these beings were, and the text deliberately leaves the details vague.

But the verse may be less interested in explaining the Nephilim than in delivering a quiet verdict on them. In Hebrew, the phrase translated "men of renown" is literally 'anshe hashem — "men of the name." Here is the irony: these were supposedly the famous ones, the legendary warriors everyone talked about, and yet Genesis does not record a single one of their names. The heroes celebrated for their reputation have been completely forgotten. Their fame, it turns out, was not as durable as they imagined.

That irony is not an accident. A few chapters later, at Babel in Genesis 11, humanity tries again to "make a name for themselves" by building a tower to the heavens — and again the project collapses. In both stories, the problem is the same: people reaching for greatness on their own terms, without reference to their Creator. Genesis 6:4 sits at the head of the flood story, and it helps explain why the flood comes. A world producing famous, violent strongmen is a world that has forgotten its place.

Read this way, the verse is less a puzzle about giants and more a warning about renown. The people who chased a name lost it entirely, while the story that outlasted them belongs to the God they ignored.

Jerome Creach looks closely at the Hebrew behind "men of renown" and finds a pointed irony — famous "men of the name" whose names are entirely forgotten, foreshadowing Babel's failed bid for fame. Daniel Block then shows how the tradition kept wrestling with these figures, asking why Ezekiel could place the mighty men of remote antiquity in Sheol when Israel remembered them as violent and corrupt.

“This may be intended, however, as an ironic statement. The great heroes are not named and are no longer known at all. The implication seems to be that they were not as important as they thought. The final expression, “warriors of renown,” reinforces this message. The expression in Hebrew is literally “men of the name” ( ’anšê haššēm ), and yet the names of these heroes are completely forgotten. It is also worth noting that later, in 11:1–9, the people of the earth again try to make themselves more than they are when they attempt to “make a name for themselves” (v. 4). In that story the problem is precisely that humans do not know their place before their creator.”

Jerome F. D. Creach · Robert C. Holland Professor of Old Testament, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, Violence in Scripture Westminster John Knox Press. All rights reserved. More from Creach in Rebind →

“But such use of ancient traditions is shocking. How could the prophet hold up the antediluvians as honorable residents of Sheol, when his own religious tradition presents them as the epitome of wickedness, corruption, and violence? Ezekiel himself recognizes that they too had terrorized the land of the living, but why should these mighty men of hoary antiquity be granted special status in the netherworld? Third, this description may represent another example of Ezekielian revisionism, according to which authentic traditions are reinterpreted for rhetorical effect.”

Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel (NICOT) Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. All rights reserved. More from Block in Rebind →

Most of us will never be "men of renown," but the pull toward making a name for ourselves is universal — in careers, on social media, even in families and churches. Genesis 6:4 offers a sobering perspective: the most celebrated figures of the ancient world are now nameless, remembered only as a cautionary footnote before the flood.

That is not a call to false modesty but an invitation to ask where our sense of worth comes from. Reputation built on self-exaltation evaporates. The verse suggests a different path: living known by God rather than famous before others, and letting significance grow out of that relationship rather than out of applause.

Genesis 6 opens the flood narrative. Verses 1–4 describe a strange union between "God's sons" and "men's daughters," producing the mighty figures of verse 4, and God announces that human life will be limited. Immediately afterward, verse 5 delivers the chapter's real weight: God sees that human wickedness is great and every inclination of the heart is evil. Verse 4 sits at the hinge — a snapshot of a world impressed with its own strongmen just before God declares that world corrupt and calls Noah to build the ark.