Which came first, Genesis 6:1-4 or pagan myths?
Genesis 6:1–4 is one of the Bible’s most cryptic and debated passages. It describes a strange union between the “sons of God” and the “daughters of men,” and introduces the enigmatic Nephilim—”the mighty men of old, men of renown.” Some scholars argue that this brief account is a fragment of adapted pagan mythology, pulled from ancient Near Eastern myths to lend weight to Israel’s sacred stories. Others insist the text is an intentional polemic—a direct rejection of those same myths.
In his 2015 article “Is the ‘Sons of God’ Passage in Genesis 6 Adapted Pagan Mythology?” Lee Anderson Jr. takes this debate head-on. His answer is a clear no. Rather than see Genesis 6 as contaminated with myth, Anderson argues it is an antimyth—a theological critique of pagan ideology, not a repackaging of it.
Overview: What Anderson’s Paper Does
Published in the Answers Research Journal, Anderson’s paper walks readers through the three major interpretations of the “sons of God”:
- The Sethite View — identifying them as godly descendants of Seth.
- The Dynastic Rulers View — interpreting them as human kings or nobles.
- The Fallen Angels View — understanding them as rebellious celestial beings.
Each view is weighed for its lexical, theological, and contextual merits.
Anderson doesn’t just argue for the fallen angels view; he builds an apologetic case that none of the conservative interpretations rely on pagan myth, and all are aimed at preserving the integrity of the biblical narrative.
Understanding the Accusation: Mythology in Genesis?
Critical scholars often suggest that Genesis 6 echoes pagan tales of gods mating with mortals, producing demigod offspring. These parallels are drawn from ancient Near Eastern literature, particularly texts like the Ugaritic epics, where divine beings (bn ilim, often translated “sons of gods”) engage in relationships with human women. Greek mythology offers similar motifs—such as Zeus fathering demigods through mortal women—which further fuels the claim that Genesis 6 reflects mythic patterns common to ancient cultures.
According to this view, the Nephilim are seen as analogous to the heroic offspring found in stories like the Epic of Gilgamesh or the divine-human hybrids of Greco-Roman myth. In this framework, Genesis is not unique or divinely revealed, but part of a larger mythological conversation among ancient civilizations.
But Anderson sees danger in this line of thinking. If Genesis 6 is myth, what else in Scripture is borrowed? He argues that accepting such parallels without caution “casts doubt upon the trustworthiness of Scripture as a whole” and undermines foundational doctrines like inspiration and inerrancy. He insists that similarity does not equal derivation. Just because cultures share similar story elements does not mean the Bible was copying or borrowing. Instead, Genesis often repurposes familiar themes to counter pagan worldviews.
Anderson highlights that Genesis 6, far from glorifying divine-human unions as myths do, frames the episode as a precursor to judgment. It leads directly into the account of the Flood—a divine act of cleansing. This distinction is vital. Pagan myths celebrate the birth of heroic demigods. Genesis treats the incident as transgression and rebellion.
The Fallen Angels View: An Ancient Interpretation
Anderson leans heavily toward the fallen angels view, which he identifies as the oldest and most historically grounded interpretation of Genesis 6. This reading sees the “sons of God” as angelic beings—divine entities created by God—who left their proper station to take human wives, violating both their nature and God’s order.
This view is supported by a wealth of ancient sources:
- 1 Enoch and Jubilees — Though extra-biblical, these Second Temple texts reflect an early Jewish tradition that saw the sons of God as angels who descended to earth, mated with women, and were judged by God. 1 Enoch 6–16 goes into considerable detail, portraying these angels as corrupt “Watchers” who taught forbidden knowledge to humanity.
- The Septuagint (LXX) — In some versions, like Codex Alexandrinus, the Hebrew phrase bene ha’elohim is translated as angeloi tou theou (“angels of God”), reflecting an early interpretive tradition that saw these beings as celestial, not human.
- Josephus and Philo — The first-century Jewish historian Josephus and the philosopher Philo of Alexandria also affirmed this view. Josephus writes in Antiquities 1.3.1 that angels fell in love with women and had children by them. Philo, in De Gigantibus, speaks of divine beings producing giants.
- Early Church Fathers — This interpretation was widely held in the early church. Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, Athenagoras, and Tertullian all endorsed it. It wasn’t until Augustine, several centuries later, that the Sethite view gained dominance.
- New Testament Echoes — Anderson connects this interpretation to New Testament passages that describe angels sinning in the days of Noah. 1 Peter 3:18–20, 2 Peter 2:4, and Jude 6 all reference rebellious angels being cast into chains. These passages are consistent with the fallen angel reading of Genesis 6.
Anderson underscores that this interpretation not only fits the biblical data but also aligns with the earliest exegetical traditions. It offers a coherent theological arc: heavenly rebellion, earthly corruption, divine judgment, and eventual redemption.
Most crucially, it turns Genesis 6 into a polemic against false divinity. The “sons of God” are not divine heroes—they are rebels. The Nephilim are not celebrated—they are a symbol of corruption. And the Flood is not myth—it is God’s righteous response.
Theological Polemic: Genesis as Antimyth
Anderson’s most striking contribution is his insistence that Genesis 6 should be read not as a myth but as a polemical subversion of myth—what he calls an antimyth. In other words, Genesis 6 isn’t mimicking pagan stories for dramatic effect; it’s turning them inside out.
Where pagan myths often celebrate the union of gods and mortals—producing heroic offspring who are praised for their power and prestige—Genesis 6 describes this kind of union as transgression. The resulting Nephilim are not heroes; they are corrupt figures whose very existence triggers divine judgment.
Anderson stresses that the passage is not concerned with glory or epic storytelling but with divine boundaries and their violation. The sin of the “sons of God” isn’t romantic or noble—it’s lawless and destructive. Genesis doesn’t endorse their actions but condemns them, as evidenced by the catastrophic judgment that follows: the Flood.
In this way, Genesis flips the script. Pagan mythology often blurs the line between gods and men, endorsing a fluid divine hierarchy. But Genesis doubles down on biblical monotheism and the creator-creature distinction. The Lord is not one among many gods; He is the sole Sovereign who judges both men and angels. The “sons of God” are not divine co-creators—they are rebels punished for stepping out of place.
This reading aligns with a larger biblical pattern. Like the Creation account in Genesis 1—which stands in direct contrast to Mesopotamian chaos narratives—Genesis 6 critiques its cultural environment by showing a God who is not part of the world’s drama, but who rules over it with justice and holiness.
Anderson’s framing of Genesis as antimyth offers readers a powerful hermeneutic tool: we can acknowledge the cultural similarities without surrendering the biblical text to mythological classification. This preserves the integrity and distinctiveness of the Bible while acknowledging its ancient context.
Evaluating Other Views
Anderson doesn’t dismiss other conservative interpretations but critiques their shortcomings:
The Sethite View
This popular view identifies the “sons of God” as the godly line of Seth intermarrying with Cainite women. While it avoids supernatural implications, it struggles with the text’s vocabulary and can’t easily explain the Nephilim.
Anderson notes inconsistencies:
- Why would godly men cause such wrath?
- Why use exalted language for mere humans?
The Dynastic Rulers View
This theory posits that “sons of God” were ancient kings claiming divine status. It matches ancient Near Eastern patterns but lacks firm biblical precedent. Scripture never calls human rulers “sons of God” in this collective, supernatural sense.
Anderson finds the view interesting but ultimately inadequate.
Mythology or Monotheism?
The deeper question beneath the Genesis 6 debate is not just interpretive—it’s theological. Is the Bible borrowing from a polytheistic framework, or is it proclaiming a monotheistic correction to the spiritual confusion of its age?
Anderson argues that this is a battle for the worldview integrity of Scripture. If Genesis 6 is simply a retelling of pagan stories with a Hebrew veneer, then the Bible’s claims to divine origin, uniqueness, and authority are severely undermined.
He warns that allowing mythological interpretation to take root—particularly without strong textual or theological warrant—puts the doctrine of inspiration at risk. If biblical authors were merely reworking common mythic motifs, then the line between divine revelation and human imagination becomes dangerously thin.
Instead, Anderson asserts that Genesis stands apart. Even when it engages with the themes of its cultural environment, it does so with a corrective voice. Where myths blur lines and exalt rebellion, Genesis clarifies roles and pronounces judgment.
The biblical account anchors itself in the holiness of YHWH, the moral structure of creation, and the certainty of divine justice. The Flood is not a cosmic accident or the whim of bickering deities—it’s a measured, moral response to escalating wickedness.
In the end, Anderson calls readers to see Genesis 6 not as an outlier but as a litmus test for biblical fidelity. Accepting the fallen angels view—properly understood within a theological and polemical framework—helps preserve a high view of Scripture and the consistency of the Bible’s monotheistic message.
Final Thoughts: An Ancient Polemic with Present-Day Power
Lee Anderson Jr.’s article is not just a defense of one interpretation; it’s a call to see Genesis 6 as part of the Bible’s larger theological message. It’s not myth. It’s not compromise. It’s a polemical rejection of paganism, declaring the supremacy of YHWH over all false gods.
Anderson urges grace among believers who differ on details, but makes his position clear: The fallen angels view offers the strongest case, both textually and historically. Most importantly, it aligns with the Bible’s overarching story of rebellion, judgment, and redemption.
Personal Commentary: Why This Matters
As someone who has spent over two decades researching Genesis 6, I can affirm how unusual—and important—this passage is. It’s not just an interpretive curiosity. It opens a window into the spiritual rebellion that runs through the Bible’s earliest chapters.
Anderson’s paper reflects what I’ve come to believe: Genesis 6 is not a borrowed myth. It’s a biblical critique of pagan mythology. It defends God’s holiness, not ancient superstition. And it calls us to see Scripture as both trustworthy and unflinching—even when it touches on the strange or supernatural.
