Tag Archives: Book of Jubilees

The Evolution of Hebrew and the Death of “Jewish” Languages

‘Joseph Makes Himself Known to His Brethren’ by Gustav Doré

In this week’s parasha, Vayigash, we read how Joseph finally reveals himself to the sons of Israel in Egypt, and they are shocked and stupefied to behold their long-lost brother. How exactly it is that Joseph reveals himself is not clear. Was he wearing a mask or Egyptian headdress that he took off? Was it simply his declaration “I am Joseph, is my father still alive?” (Genesis 45:3) Did he have to show them his brit milah to prove it, as Rashi comments on the next verse? Or was it the fact that he now switched to speak Hebrew? Previously, he had spoken in Egyptian and there was a “translator” between them (42:23)—identified as Joseph’s son Menashe. Now Joseph revealed that he himself speaks Hebrew—a language only spoken by Jacob’s household and a select few. Rashi says this, too, later on 45:12, when the brothers are still stunned after Joseph’s speech. Joseph tells his brothers to see “the mouth that is speaking to you”. This is what ultimately convinces them that it is really Joseph. Such is the power of Hebrew in that it is a central identifying marker of a true son of Israel.

In fact, Hebrew was our language from the very beginning—Abraham himself spoke Hebrew and passed it down to Isaac, and then to Jacob and his family. The ancient Book of Jubilees describes how the divine language was lost following the Tower of Babel, when God confounded the tongues of the people, and He only restored it by teaching it directly to Abraham (Jubilees 12:25, or 12:31 in other versions). It goes on to say that Hashem even provided Abraham with ancient mystical Hebrew scrolls for him to learn from. The family continued to speak Hebrew, even throughout their servitude in Egypt. The Midrash (Lekach Tov on Ki Tavo) states that Israel was redeemed from Egypt in the merit of three things: “they did not change their clothing, their diet, or their language”, while a parallel Midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 32:5) says it was in the merit of four things: “they did not change their names, nor their language, and they did not speak lashon hara or engage in licentiousness”. The one thing common to both lists is that the Israelites preserved the Hebrew tongue. Such is the power of Hebrew in that its use hastens the Redemption!

That said, in our day and age, when we are so close to the Final Redemption, we must do everything we can to revert to using the divine Hebrew language as much as possible. Thankfully, this has already been greatly accelerated in the last two centuries by the Zionist push to revive Hebrew as the vernacular of the Jewish people, and making Hebrew the official language of the State of Israel. It is important to note that, contrary to popular belief, Hebrew was never a “dead” language, and Jews have always used it throughout history. Sephardic Jews in particular devoted a lot of time to studying the Hebrew language and writing Hebrew grammar books, as well as Hebrew poetry and piyyutim.

Statues of Ibn Gabirol in his hometown of Malaga, Spain, and in Caesarea, Israel

One such Sephardic Jew was Solomon ibn Gabirol (c. 1021-1070), who wrote a 400-verse book on the rules of Hebrew grammar when he was just 19 years old. He went on to write multiple renowned books of poetry, proverbs, and philosophy (in both Hebrew and Arabic). Today, there is a major busy street in Tel-Aviv called Ibn Gvirol named after him (where I was once lived as a child). Another key figure was the Ramchal (Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, 1707-1746), who put together a textbook on Hebrew language and grammar called Leshon Limmudim. He also wrote many poems and psalms in Hebrew, and even a Hebrew opera! The Ramchal was an inspiration not just to countless rabbis and mystics, but even to secular Jewish scholars and Haskalah writers, who often referred to him as “the father of modern Hebrew literature”.

Nonetheless, for much of the past 2500 years (until recently), Jews typically retained Hebrew as a religious language for prayers and holy texts, to be used in the beit knesset and beit midrash, and for correspondence between rabbis and merchants who came from different lands and needed a common language. The day-to-day vernacular was usually from whatever locale the Jews lived in. Two thousand years ago it was Aramaic and Greek; today it might be English, Russian, Spanish, or French. Along the way, Jews also developed their own dialects by fusing together local languages and adding in some Hebrew. The two most well-known are Ladino (among Sephardic Jews) and Yiddish (among Ashkenazi Jews). There are others, including my own community’s Bukharian, or the Juhuri of Kavkazi Jews.

Today, people often lament the decline of these “Jewish” languages. While it is true that it’s never a bad thing to know another language (and my knowledge of Bukharian is really helpful when I’m around Iranians or Afghans), the truth is that Jews have no need for these foreign tongues. Our language is Hebrew, and always has been, and we have to use Hebrew first and foremost. The focus should be on mastery of Hebrew, not any other language. If a Jew does not yet know Hebrew, he has no business learning another tongue! Only when a Jew can speak God’s language fluently should he move on to learn others. Considering how important the use of Hebrew is in ushering in the Redemption (as we see from ancient Egypt), the still-common Hasidic practice to raise children in Yiddish is counter-productive. At its core, Yiddish is just a blend of German and Russian (two peoples who have never treated us particularly well), so it makes little sense to insist on using it. Like other “Jewish” languages, it is a tongue of exile and oppression, of punishing galut. There is no doubt that every Jew should switch to Hebrew, the language of God, Torah, and geulah.

The prophet Zephaniah told us this long ago: “For then I will make the peoples pure of speech, so that they all invoke Hashem by name and render service with one accord… The remnant of Israel shall do no wrong and speak no falsehood; a false tongue shall not be in their mouths…” (3:9-13) If we are truly one nation, we should have one language, and any two Jews in the world should be able to converse freely in Hebrew. (Reminds me of a conversation I once had with a Hasidic Jew who only spoke Yiddish. He was born and raised in Israel, but his Hebrew was so poor and so accented I could barely understand him!) We all know well that if we want to see geulah, we need to have ahavat hinam and unite as the singular people we are meant to be. This is not possible if we can’t even speak the same language or understand each other.

It is worth noting here the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, that the language we use directly influences the way we think, and how we see the world. A classic example is that Russian children tend to be better at recognizing different shades of blue compared to English children because the Russian language actually has two distinct words for shades of “blue” (sini and goluboy). Inuit peoples have many more words for different types of “snow”, making them better at understanding this weather phenomenon and its many variations. Based on the same line of reasoning, one could argue that since Hebrew has many different words for “God”, a Hebrew-speaker who knows these nuances would be much better at understanding God, too. Although there are scholars who reject the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, one could make a strong case that children who are raised with a galut language will have a galut mindset, while those who are raised in Hebrew will have a more liberating, more Torah-true geulah mindset.

Finally, it is vital to dispel two common myths and counter-arguments to the common use of Hebrew. First, that Hebrew is “too holy” to use as a vernacular language, and should not be used for mundane conversations. This is silly, first because Hebrew was the common language of the Israelites for centuries. The Tanakh records the conversations of our forefathers and Biblical figures in Hebrew, whether for holy matters or mundane ones, during the performance of mitzvot or transgressions, for blessings and for curses, in political intrigue, adulterous affairs, military conquest, or even in describing idolatrous practices. King Solomon wrote Shir haShirim which doesn’t seem to speak of religious things at all and, at least on the surface, graphically depicts the deeply passionate love of a young couple.

Shir HaShirim would pave the way for later rabbis to write Hebrew love poetry, including the great Rabbi Yehuda haLevi (c. 1075-1141, most famous for his philosophical Kuzari). In addition to religious poetry, many others wrote secular Hebrew poetry, too, including Dunash ibn Labrat (c. 920-990) and both Moshe ibn Ezra (1055-1138) and Avraham ibn Ezra (1092-1167). Meanwhile, the great Kabbalah master Rabbi Itzchak Luria (1534-1572, “Arizal”) tried to always speak Hebrew, being especially careful with this on Shabbat, and only using the vernacular if necessary to explain something to others (See Sefer Toldot haAri). One could well argue that not only is Hebrew okay to use for day-to-day speech, it is actually a very good thing that will infuse some holiness into even the most mundane conversations!

The second myth to dispel is the argument that no one speaks “proper” Biblical Hebrew today, and Modern Hebrew is an “illegitimate” offshoot. In the Ultra-Orthodox world, it is common to hear that Hebrew and Lashon haKodesh are not the same thing. The main reason for this is, supposedly, that Modern Hebrew devised many new, non-Biblical words, and often used Aramaic, Arabic, or others as the foundation for these new terms. While this is true, it does not present a problem at all. Hebrew has always been a living and evolving language that borrowed from others. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 4b) goes so far as to say that even a mysterious Torah word like totafot, used to describe Tefillin in Exodus 13:16 and Deuteronomy 6:8, comes from two ancient “African” languages that mean “two and two”, to teach that Tefillin should have four sections.

The Torah names Aharon and Pinchas seem to mean nothing in Hebrew, but in ancient Egyptian aha-rw meant a “warrior lion” while Panahesy was a common Egyptian name meaning something like “bronze-skinned” or “Nubian”. The Talmud itself is in Aramaic, and is peppered with Greek words. Sanhedrin is the word for a Jewish supreme court, but comes from the Greek synedrion, “sitting together”. The Talmud explains that the now-Hebrew prosbul comes from the Greek pros bulei u’butei, “for the benefit of rich and poor” (Gittin 36b-37a). It uses the word pardes to refer to “the Heavens” in its account of four rabbis who ascended to the upper worlds (Chagigah 14b), giving rise to the English word “paradise”. Its earliest origin, though, is the ancient Persian-Avestan word for a park, paraideza, which made its way into one place in Tanakh (in Shir haShirim 4:13) as pardes, now the common Hebrew word for an “orchard”.

Another amazing example of the evolution of Hebrew is given by Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh (see Breath of Life, pg. 72): the Talmud uses the Greek word androgynous to refer to a person with biologically indistinct gender—when it is not clear whether the person is a zakhar or nekevah, male or female, based on their anatomy. Rav Ginsburgh points out that, incredibly, the Hebrew gematria of “androgynous” (אנדרוגינוס) is 390, exactly equal to zakhar v’nekevah (זכר ונקבה). Of course, the word gematria itself, referring to Hebrew numerology, is of Greek origin!

So, the fact that Modern Hebrew has devised new words along the way, as necessary, even if based on other languages, is not problematic at all. This has always existed throughout the history of Israel, all the way back to the Torah itself. The reality is that society evolves, things change, and new words need to be coined. This happened in Biblical times, and in Talmudic times, and is continuing to happen today. Besides, many “Modern Hebrew” words are actually based on Biblical roots, including rakevet (רכבת) for a “train”, based on the Biblical rekhev (רכב) or merkava (מרכבה) for “chariot”; and chashmal (חשמל) for “electricity”, based on the lightning-like chashmal “electrum” described by the prophet Ezekiel in his opening chapter. (The modern chashmal was coined by Yehuda Leib Gordon [1830-1892], a child prodigy who reportedly knew the whole Tanakh and Talmud by heart. For more on the fascinating world of chashmal, see here.)

To conclude, Hebrew is the language of Hashem and the language of Creation, inseparable from Torah, from Judaism, and from the Jewish people. Hebrew has been our tongue for thousands of years, for both holy and secular purposes, and we need it now more than ever. It was the use of Hebrew that confirmed for the sons of Israel that the mysterious person in front of them was truly Joseph, teaching us that Hebrew speech is the mark of a true Israelite. It was the use of Hebrew that brought the people of Israel in Egypt the merit to be redeemed and saved. So too now, when we are awaiting the Final Redemption, it is in the merit of Hebrew, Hashem’s divine language, that we will get there.

Shabbat Shalom!

Eliezer & the Immortals

‘Eliezer and Rebekah’ by Gustav Doré

In this week’s parasha, Lech Lecha, we are introduced to Abraham’s loyal servant, Eliezer (Genesis 15:2). Eliezer was a righteous man and wanted nothing more than to be a full-fledged part of Israel. He hoped to marry into Abraham’s family, too, but because he was a Canaanite, and the Canaanites were deemed cursed, it was not possible. Nonetheless, the Arizal (Sha’ar haPesukim on Chayei Sarah) explains that in his future life, Eliezer reincarnated in none other than Caleb, the righteous spy and leader from the Tribe of Judah. In fact, the Arizal explains that this is why Caleb went to visit the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron at the start of his spy mission (Sotah 34b). He specifically wanted to pray at the grave of his former master, Abraham, and hoped that just as Abraham had helped him in his past life, he would assist him again in the difficult journey he was on.

Interestingly, the minor Talmudic tractate Derekh Eretz Zuta actually states that Eliezer was one of nine immortal people who never died. These special people merited to enter the Garden of Eden alive and well. As a quick aside, Derekh Eretz Zuta is a fascinating tractate that reads like Pirkei Avot, with maxims from the Sages on ethics, morals, and life advice. It begins with the following statement:

The ways of a scholar are that he is meek, humble, alert, fulfilled, modest, and beloved by all. He is humble to the members of his household, sin-fearing, and judges people according to their deeds. He says “I have no desire for all the things of this world because this world is not for me.” He sits and studies, dusting his cloak at the feet of the scholars. In him no one sees any evil. He questions according to the subject-matter and answers to the point.

The last three verses in the first chapter tell us about some of the greatest figures in Jewish history. First the tractate points out (with citations to prove it) that God forged a covenant with seven people in Tanakh: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Pinchas, and David. One might notice that these are nearly the same as the Seven Shepherds made popular by the Sukkot ushpizin, with the exception being Pinchas in place of Joseph. The truth is that Pinchas and Joseph are spiritually linked, with Pinchas containing a spark of Joseph. Kol HaTor (Ch. 2) even states that Pinchas was the potential “Mashiach ben Yosef” of his generation. There is mathematical proof to this, too, with “Pinchas” (פינחס) being 208, exactly like “Ben Yosef” (בן יוסף).

We are then told that seven people were so righteous and holy that their bodies never decomposed: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Miriam, and Amram. Some also add David to this list. Finally, the chapter ends with nine people who merited to enter the heavenly Garden of Eden alive: Enoch, Eliyahu, Mashiach, Eliezer, King Hiram, Eved-Melekh the Cushite, Yaavetz “the son of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi”, Batya the daughter of Pharaoh, and Serach bat Asher. Some add a tenth person to the list: Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi. What was so great about these individuals?  Continue reading

Jonah’s Secret Link to Yom Kippur

‘Jonah Preaching to the Ninevites’ by Gustav Doré

One of the great highlights of Yom Kippur is the unique afternoon Haftarah reading of the Book of Jonah. Recall that Yonah is tasked by God to go to the Assyrian metropolis of Nineveh and preach to them to repent, lest they be destroyed. Yonah fails to carry out his mission at first and instead goes out to sea. When a storm rages, he knows it is his fault and tells the sailors to throw him overboard. The storm is calmed, while Yonah is swallowed up by a “big fish”.

After three days of reflection in the belly of the beast, Yonah is vomited ashore and goes off to fulfil God’s mission. Nineveh hears his call and repents wholeheartedly, averting their fate. Yonah is upset by this, explaining that he knew the Ninevites would repent, and that’s why he didn’t want to deliver the message (4:1-2). Presumably, it would make the stiff-necked Jews look bad, since the Jews rarely listened to their own prophets! God concludes the book with a message that He cares deeply about all of His creations, including the 120,000+ people in Nineveh, and even the animals there (4:11). What does any of this have to do with Yom Kippur?

The simplest answer is that we read Yonah because it mentions many themes of the High Holiday season. First of all, Yonah gives the Ninevites forty days to repent or else the city would be overturned (3:4), just as we have Forty Days of Repentance between Rosh Chodesh Elul and Yom Kippur. (Based on this, one could reason that Yonah likely arrived in Nineveh on Rosh Chodesh Elul and the city was spared on Yom Kippur.) The Ninevites then proclaimed a fast (3:5), just as we fast on Yom Kippur. After this, Yonah leaves town and makes a sukkah for himself in the wilderness (4:5), just as we head right into Sukkot after Yom Kippur. This seems like enough to justify the selection of Yonah for the holiday reading. But I always felt like there must be more.

A few big questions jumped out at me when reading the story: Why is it that when Yonah is out at sea and the storm begins, he decides to go take a nap while the sailors are panicking (1:5)? How could he even think of sleeping? And when the sailors then question him about the storm, he tells them to throw him overboard to quell it (1:12). Why didn’t Yonah just jump overboard himself? Why make the sailors throw him out? Finally, we might expect that these rough sailors wouldn’t care much about a passing Hebrew among them, and would gladly throw him out to spare their lives. Instead, we read that the sailors refused to do so, and instead “the men rowed hard to regain the shore, but they could not, for the sea was growing more and more stormy about them.” (1:13)

The sailors eventually decide they have no choice but to throw Yonah overboard, but before doing so they pray to God wholeheartedly: “Oh, please, Hashem, do not let us perish on account of this man’s life. Do not hold us guilty of killing an innocent person!” (1:14) Why are these gentile sailors so deeply concerned about a random Hebrew that hitched a ride with them? Why are they suddenly so faithful and fearful of the God of Israel? And their faith in Hashem didn’t stop with the subduing of the storm. The chapter ends saying “The men feared God greatly; they offered a sacrifice to God and they made vows.” (1:16) What are these “vows”? The Zohar (II, 230b) says they all converted to Judaism and became tzadikim and talmidei chakhamim!

What’s going on?

Joseph Returns

I believe we can solve this mystery by recalling an ancient tradition that the Sale of Joseph took place on the tenth of Tishrei—what would later become Yom Kippur. This tradition goes all the way back to Second Temple times, and is even recorded in the Book of Jubilees (34:10-18). Jubilees go so far as to say that Jacob actually commemorated Joseph’s yahrzeit every year on the tenth of Tishrei. Centuries later, when God forgave Israel for the sin of the Golden Calf at Sinai—thus officially giving rise to Yom Kippur—He also officially forgave the Sons of Israel for the Sale of Joseph. What the ten sons had done was throw their brother Joseph “overboard” into an empty pit that didn’t even have a drop of water (Genesis 37:24). They abandoned the innocent soul, and he was later picked up and enslaved by Midianites who sold him to Ishmaelites down to Egypt. (See ‘Was Joseph Really Sold By His Brothers?’ in Volume One of Garments of Light.) When was the sin of the brothers rectified? It is quite possible that it was rectified on that ship with Yonah:

The Arizal tells us that Yonah had a spark of the soul of Yosef (and of the future Mashiach ben Yosef, too, see Sha’ar haGilgulim, Ch. 32). And so, a great storm surges and Yonah—the Joseph that he is—goes to sleep to dream divine dreams. When he is awakened, he knows the (ten?) sailors are reincarnations of his old brothers. So, he tells them that if they want to be spared, they must throw him overboard (just like old times). But the sailors know deep in their souls that they have a tikkun to make, and they staunchly refuse. When their fiercest efforts to battle the storm fail, they resort to sincere teshuva and prayer. Previously, they threw their brother into a pit “with no water”, and now they throw him right into the raging waters. The sea is immediately calmed. Then, of all things, Yonah is miraculously saved by a big fish.

Recall that the fish is symbolic of Joseph, whom our Sages (in Bava Metzia 84a) compared to a fish that is impervious to the evil eye. (Some even see the two “lucky” fish of Pisces as Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Menashe!) And Joseph’s greatest descendant (who also carried a spark of his soul) was Yehoshua bin Nun, literally “son of a fish” (nun means “fish” in Aramaic). In fact, the nun root is thought to be the etymology for Nineveh.

Another interesting parallel: the language used to describe the calming of the sea when Yonah was thrown overboard is strangely va’ya’amod hayam, literally “the sea stood”. This is a clear allusion to the standing walls of the Splitting of the Sea which, according to the Midrash, split and stood in the merit of Joseph! (Beresheet Rabbah 87:8). This only further points to Yonah being Yosef reincarnated.

Ultimately, the repentant sailors go on to convert to Judaism and become great tzadikim in their own right. Their rectification is complete; the brothers are perfectly redeemed. And this is the whole point of Yom Kippur after all: the redemption of the children of Israel. May we merit to see the Final Redemption this year.

Gmar Chatima Tova and Chag Sameach!


Yom Kippur & Sukkot Learning Resources:

The Kabbalah of Yom Kippur (Video)
How the Priestly Garments Atoned for the People
Ushpizin & Anti-Ushpizin
Medicinal Properties of Arba Minim
Russia, Iran, and Gog u’Magog (Video)