The Hebrew word for god

The common word for god in Hebrew is אֵל (pronounced el) and note that it may refer to any god and not only to the God of the Bible. We have already discussed this word and its origin in the first post of Hebrew Monk’s Substack about the letter א (alef) – the first letter in the Hebrew alphabet:

I don’t see the point of writing it all here again, so instead I’ll just give you the gist. While the origin of the word אֵל (god) is uncertain, most Hebrew scholars believe that the word originally meant power or force, and that it is quite possibly related to the word אַיִל (a’yil) meaning a ram - an animal which also symbolizes power. The primal two-letter root א-ל is also found in later three-letter roots which also relate to power such as the root א-ל-צ which means to force or to compel, the root א-ל-מ which signifies violence, and the root א-ל-פ which relates to champions and leadership.

This relation to power and ram is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the Hebrew word for god אֵל (el), and there’s probably more than some truth to it. However, one also simply cannot ignore the resemblance between the word אֵל and another fundamental Hebrew word – the preposition אֶל (el) which means towards. They are written with the same two letters, and the only difference is that in אֵל (god) there’s a tzere under the Alef, while in אֶל (towards) there’s a segol, but both of these niqqud signs stand for the vowel ‘e’ – one long (or big) and one short (or small) respectively.

This means that in Hebrew “god of something” also means being oriented towards that very same thing. Consequently, asking “what is your god” can also be understood as “what is your towards”, which is essentially the same as asking how do you orient yourself. When you think about it, this makes a lot of sense. Because when you worship something, you also face it and look up to it. Much like when you set something as your main goal or primary objective, it inevitably becomes the point you must move and strive towards.

As much as I like the association between these two words and the picture they paint together, I would probably still dismiss their resemblance as purely coincidental, if not two other Hebrew words that their etymology really resonates with this concept – the word כֵּן (ken) which means yes, and the word חֵטְא (chet) which means sin.

The Hebrew word for yes

The common way to say yes in Hebrew is the word כֵּן (ken), though this is a modern usage of the word. In Biblical Hebrew it more commonly meant ‘like so’ or ‘as such’, and by extension also ‘correct’ or ‘truth’. In case you’re wondering, the way to say yes in biblical Hebrew was the word הֵן (hen), but often people simply repeated the verb or the entire statement within the question as a form of acknowledgement.

The interesting thing about the Hebrew word כֵּן (yes) is its root and other related words that stem from it. The word כֵּן comes from the root כ-ו-ן (Kaf-Vav-Nun) and here is a list of words that are also based on it:

Looking at the list above, it’s quite easy to see that Hebrew draws a distinct etymological connection between the concepts of truth, direction, readiness, and even stability as indicated by the words כַּן (kan) and כּוֹנֵן (konen). If you are asking yourself how these two words relate to direction and readiness, there’s a good explanation for each of them. The word כַּן (kan) refers specifically to platforms that must face a certain direction when ready, for instance a pedestal, a launch pad (כן שיגור) or an easel (כן ציור). The verb כּוֹנֵן (konen), apart from referring to founding a new body and setting its course, may also describe nocking an arrow onto a bow (see Psalms 11:2).

The root כ-ו-ן along with many of its derivative words revolve around the concept of aim, and that goes hand in hand with the preposition אֶל (towards) we discussed in the previous section of this article. But it also serves as a nice reminder that no matter what your “towards” is, aiming for takes more than just facing the right direction. It is also a question of timing, preparation and readiness, and of will, intentions, truth and sincerity. Only when all those terms are met are we able to hit our target and reach our goal.

It is worth noting that this association between direction and correctness is not unique to Hebrew. In English we have the word ‘right’ which is the opposite of both left and of wrong, and in Chinese we have the character 對 (duì – written 对 in simplified Chinese) which means both ‘correct’ or ‘right’ and ‘facing’ or ‘in front of’. Also note that the word ‘correct’ itself consists of the prefix ‘con’ meaning together and the root ‘regere’ which refers to moving in a straight line.

However, unlike English and Chinese, Hebrew didn’t arbitrarily choose one specific direction to convey the meaning of correct and instead went with the general idea of aiming well. Now let’s see what happens when we aim wrong.

The Hebrew word for sin

The last and most important piece of our puzzle today is how Hebrew conceptualizes the idea of sin. The Hebrew noun for sin is חֵטְא (chet) and the Hebrew verb for sin חָטָא (chata) are based on the root ח-ט-א (Chet-Tet-Alef). However, the original meaning of this root had nothing to do with sin at all, and instead it simply meant to miss in the sense of not hitting the target. This ancient meaning is still preserved in the Hebrew verb הֶחֱטִיא (hecheti) and its corresponding noun הַחְטָאָה (hachta’a) which can mean both ‘to miss the target’ and ‘to cause others to sin’.

It is interesting to note that the root ח-ט-א is also one of those rare instances Hebrew employs the same root to express opposite meanings. Because when we conjugate it in the Pi’el structure, we get the verb חִטֵּא (chite) which means to sanitize, disinfect or sterilize in the sense of cleansing something thoroughly. In biblical Hebrew it refers to ritualistic purification and the washing away of sins. In modern Hebrew it usually appears in the context of medicine and hygiene, and you can imagine just how its usage rate grew since 2020.

The Lord is my Shepherd

So what does all this say about the origin of the Hebrew word for god? Well, I honestly don’t know. On the one hand, the relation between the word אֵל (god) and the idea of power has a strong case, and the connection to the word אַיִל (a’yil – ram) also makes a lot of sense. On the other hand, the root כ-ו-ן and its relation to both direction and truth, and even more so the root ח-ט-א and its relation both to miss and sin, do indicate that Hebrew theo-linguistically associate worship with aiming.

But maybe we don’t have to choose. What if the word אַיִל (a’yil) is the inspiration not only for ‘god’ and ‘force’, but also to the idea of ‘towards’? After all, from a shepherd’s perspective the ram determines where the rest of the flock goes. And from a hunter perspective, a ram is certainly a prime target to aim at. Furthermore, if you miss your shot or throw, one could argue you have wronged your hunting crew and possibly the entire the tribe.

Speaking of hunting and targeting desired animals, it is also worth noting that the word חֵטְא (sin) was also written חֵט without the Alef at the end. When written like this it looks very similar to the word חָט (chat) which means tusk. The only animal in Canaan and the Levant that bore tusks was the wild boar – which was considered unclean by the ancient Hebrew tribes and eating it eat was in fact a sin. As cool as it sounds, this is probably just a coincidence, as the word חָט (chat) most likely stems from a primal root expressing sharpness which also gave us words like חָד (chad – sharp), חֶץ (chets – arrow), and possibly even עֵט (et – pen).

The bottom line is there is no way of knowing what’s behind this holy trinity of associations between the concepts of god and towards, true and aim, and sin and miss. But even if there’s nothing behind it and it’s all just a big coincidence, they still paint a very intriguing and inspirational picture.

When I think about a possible link between these three concepts, two movie-related thoughts pop into my head. The first is Private Jackson, the sniper from Saving Private Ryan who used to pray as he was shooting:

The second is Galadriel’s words she greets the fellowship after they entered Lothlorien in the first Lord of the Rings movie, and specifically the words she utters when she turns to look at Sam: “Yet hope remains while the company is true”.

I have always liked this scene and thought it was very subtle yet powerful hint to the value and nature of Sam’s character and how essential his presence is to the fellowship. But now that line (the word “true” in particular) echoes differently after the warning of “stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all”.

So there you have it. Even Tolkien made that link between truth and walking in the right direction. I think it’s time to read The Lord of the Rings again…

Superman’s Earth dad is Jonathan Kent. In Hebrew the name Jonathan is written יוֹנָתָן (Yonatan) or יְהוֹנָתָן (Yehonatan) and it can be divided into two parts. The prefix יוֹ or יְהוֹ is part of the explicit name of God, and נָתָן is a verb which means ‘he gave’ or ‘he has given’. Therefore, the whole name means ‘God has given’ or ‘God given’.

Do you see where I am going with this? It means that in the story of Superman, a guy named Jor El, which his last name means god, sent his son to a guy named Jonathan, which his first name means ‘god given’. Pretty neat, isn’t it?

The photos for this post are frames from the movie Man of Steel (2013 by WB). It is my favorite Superman movies and one of the best Superhero movies ever made as far as I am concerned. For the life of me, I just cannot understand why it got such mixed reviews.

A couple of weeks ago he posted a Facebook reel in which he basically debunked a comment to another video of his, which claimed most of the words in modern Hebrew were borrowed from Arabic.

In the beginning of the video, he mentions that Hebrew was a “dead language”, and while it is technically true (as he explained in a later video), I still felt the urge to comment on that and say it is more complicated than that.

Now, I wish I could show this comment, but sadly I got myself banned from his Instagram because of comments I made to a different video, in which I criticized his choice of words when it came to describing the manner Arabic spread to North Africa. My comments attracted fire from the pro-Pali and anti-Israel Muslim crowd. The whole thread got derailed, he got upset enough to ban me, and all I can say is that I am truly sorry for the whole thing.

Anyway, back the question of “was Hebrew really dead”. As I said, I cannot show you the comment I wrote on LangFocus Instagram because it probably got removed along with me. But that’s fine. Because I can do even better and take you straight to the source of inspiration for the comment I made – an excellent YouTube video by Language Jones in which he addresses this very question.

Honestly, I don’t think there’s a better way to answer this question. This video is just perfect. The structure and the delivery, the explanations and the examples – everything is just so clear and well-balanced. I particularly like his choice to use the word “revitalized” instead of “revived” or “resurrected” when referring to the comeback Hebrew made into the front and center of the Jewish identity, and to its generation and incorporation of new words to be used by Jews in their daily life.

The only thing I would add to this video is a good analogy, preferably with some humor. Because ending the video by reluctantly agreeing that Hebrew was kind of a “dead languages” in the technical sense completely undermines the whole point he is trying to make. Therefore, I think there’s a place to conclude the video with a little wink, and add something along the lines of the following paragraph:

“So, while it is correct to say that Hebrew was dead in the linguistical sense of the word, perhaps a better way to describe its state under these unique circumstances, is to compare it to someone in a coma. Hebrew wasn’t awake and certainly could not react to the everchanging world around it the way a living language does. But unlike other dead languages, it did have strong vital signs and a study pulse that beeped with every new generation of practicing Jews, and echoed all around the world in countless Jewish communities.”

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After that there’s also maybe some room for a funnier and more nostalgic note, drawn from an iconic scene of one of the greatest movies ever made – The Princess Bride:

Because one could argue that Hebrew was just like Westley – not ALL dead, but only MOSTLY dead. And “mostly dead” is slightly alive. Who knows, maybe the miracle of bringing Hebrew back from the dead also worked because of the exact same reason – the noble cause of true love. Not romantic love between a man and woman, but love between an ancient nation and its heritage, between people and their faith.

And speaking of faith, another possible observation to end this discussion on is to note that Hebrew, very fittingly, is the Jesus of language – it came back from the dead.

The reason I moved to Substack

If you came here from my previous website (hebrewmonk.com), you probably noticed I haven’t published anything there in nearly a year. It’s not because I had nothing to write about, but rather because lately I just didn’t have the time nor the energy to write there.

A big part of me lacking the time and energy to write there was that I wasn’t doing just the writing, but also all the technical maintenance and administrative tasks around it. In fact, that is main reason why I decided to move to Substack – it is a lean and clean platform which pretty much takes cares of everything but the writing for me. On top of that, it is a blogging-oriented platform specifically designed for long articles and that is very compatible with my current content creation style. However, if one day I decide to pivot to videos or podcasting, it can cater to my needs on that front just as well.

And as if that wasn’t enough of a reason for me to move, it is also a network of creators with strong social media like elements and even a dedicated app for both Android and iOS, so it makes it much easier for other people to discover and follow you.

Speaking of following, I figured this would be a good time as any to finally join X so you can find me there under the handle HebrewMonk2556. Don’t ask me what those numbers are because they were added automatically and I didn’t have any choice in the matter. This will replace Hebrew Monk’s telegram channel which will be closed soon. I am also still on Instagram but sadly, since I got back to Israel I am not as active there as I used to be back when I lived in China.

In case you’re wondering what’s going to happen here, I want to tell you that in the spirit of revival and revitalization the plan is both to re-edit and republish some of the articles from the old website, and to write new ones as well, just like the one you just read. The war got me a little sidetracked, but I want to shift the focus back to Hebrew and language insights.

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I am still messing around with this platform and getting the hanging of it. I believe I will find my creative rhythm back soon and hope to see you all here when I do.

Cheers,

The first letter of the Hebrew alphabet is called Alef (Also written Aleph). In Hebrew this name is written אל”ף and the apostrophes are there to mark it is not a word but a letter’s name. Here it how the letter itself is written in Modern Hebrew.

There is something very “Schrödingerian” about the nature of the letter Alef. When it is all by itself, without any vowel indicator or another letter, there is no way of telling how to pronounce it. It can be read as A, E, I, O or U, and next to other letters it can also serve a silent vowel indicator. So basically, it is both something and nothing at the same time, and it must rely on other elements of writing for it to have sound or some kind of phonetic value.

The origin of the name ‘Alef’ is not entirely clear. It is believed to have derived from the Hebrew word אָלוּף (Aluf). In modern Hebrew Aluf means ‘champion’ and it is also the rank equivalent to General in the Israeli military. To be a champion means to earn the first place, so this name is very fitting for the first letter of the alphabet. As for Aluf in the sense of General, it might also be related the number 1,000 which in Hebrew is written אֶלֶף (Elef). Not only do generals command thousands of people, but (ideally) they reach their position by being better than other men on and off the battlefield.

Speaking of fields, it is believed that in Ancient Hebrew the word Aluf didn’t refer to a person but instead meant a bull. There are two more commonly used words for bull or ox in Hebrew and they are פָּר (Par) and שׁוֹר (Shor) respectively. So the word Aluf quite possibly referred to an exceptionally fine specimen, perhaps even the leader of the herd – or the alpha if you will.

A fun fact unbeknown even to many Israelis, is that the names and the shapes of the Hebrew letters are based on ancient pictograms borrowed to represent sound. It is too long and complicated a topic to delve into in this post, and if you wish to know more about it, I highly recommend watching the series ‘Major Moments in the History of Writing’ by NativeLang on Youtube.

When you take a look at how the letter Alef was written in Ancient Hebrew and in Ancient Phoenician from which it has originated, the resemblance to an ox is undeniable. As a Chinese teacher from Israel, what I like to do sometimes is to compare the Hebrew letters with the Chinese character with the same meaning as the ancient pictogram. Here is the evolution of the Hebrew letter Alef next to Chinese Character 牛 (pronounced niú in Mandarin Chinese) which represents cow or ox.

Pretty cool, isn’t it? You can totally see the similarities not only between the Hebrew and Chinese Scripts, but also with the Latin Alphabet which has also developed from the Phoenician system.

The primal elements of the Hebrew letter Alef

I would be extremely remiss to speak about the word Aluf in the context of Ancient Hebrew without mentioning the primal Hebrew root א-ל (Alef-Lamed) from which it most likely derives.

Before we dive into the subject, let me give you a little background first. Nowadays, most Hebrew roots (AKA Shoresh in Hebrew) consist of three letters, but some researchers believe this was not always the case. Many primal words in Hebrew, both nouns and verbs are based on two letters. Take a look at words like אֵשׁ (Esh – fire), עֵץ (Ets – tree), דָּג (Dag – fish), בַּד (Bad – fabric), כַּף (Kaf – spoon), יָד (Yad – hand), שֵׁן (Shen – tooth), and verb such as חַי (Chai – live), מֵת (Met – die), רָץ (Rats – run), שָׁר (Shar – sing) or גָּר (Gar – inhabit). They all have only two (in some case even just one) pure consonant sound in their root.

It is also not rare to find Hebrew roots which share the first two letter along with a strong semantic connection. For instance, the root ח-ש-ב (think), ח-ש-ד (suspect), ח-ש-ק (desire) and ח-ש-ש (fear / afraid) all start with the letter Chet (ח) and Shin (ש). Therefore, it will not be far-fetched to assume they all derive from the primal root ח-ש which still exists, and it means to sense or to feel. Another good example can be found in the roots ד-ח-ה (reject), ד-ח-ף (push), ד-ח-ס (compress) and ד-ח-ק (cram in) which all start with the letters Dalet (ד) and Chet (ח).

If we follow this logic, the primal root of the word Aluf (אָלוּף) is א-ל (Alef-Lamed) which signifies power or force. It is also found in the root א-ל-מ (Alef-Lamed-Mem) which is associated with violence, and in the root א-ל-צ (Alef-Lamed-Tsadi) from which we get the verb אִלֵץ (ilets) – to force or to compel.

The very same root א-ל (Alef-Lamed) also comprises one of the most fundamental words in the Hebrew and Jewish vocabulary – the word אֵל (El) which means god. By the way, both the root א-ל and the word אֵל as a representation of the idea of force may very possibly have something to do with another strong and powerful animal – the ram.

The Hebrew word for ram is אַיִל (A’il) and it was a common symbol of power and idol of worship among many ancient cultures in the region. A very similar connection can also be found between the word עֵז (Ez) which means goat and the word עָז (Az) which means fierce or intense.

The word אֵל (El - god) has somehow found its way into the name of one of the most powerful and probably the most iconic character of American pop culture – Superman. While on earth he goes by the name of Clark Kent, on his home planet of Krypton he was named Kal-El. The authors of Superman, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were both Jewish, and therefore it is quite reasonable to assume they knew El was the Hebrew word for god and chose it for symbolic purposes. Whether or not they also knew the ancient relation to the concept of force is a different question.

By the way, did you know that in the movie Man of Steel, the actress who played Superman’s mother Lara was Israeli? Her name is Ayelet Zurer (איילת זורר) and funnily enough – her first name can also be traced back to the same root of אֵל or El.

Speaking of the concept of force and the possession of supernatural powers by extraterrestrial beings, let’s talk about another super iconic Pop Culture phenomenon – Star Wars. The fact that the story of Star Wars is riddled with Judeo-Christian and Daoist undertones is not a great revelation by itself. However, I must say that even though I didn’t grow up religious and I am not much of a religious person now, having learned that the word ‘force’ can be regarded as an ancient way of saying god has made me see the trilogy in different light as an adult. At the very least, it is a really good example of how we like to tell ourselves the same story over and over again in different ways.

Not only that, but it has also helped me to better frame in my head one of the most interesting discussions of our time. In the past several years, I have been following quite closely the series of conversations and debates between Sam Harris and Jordan Peterson about the idea of God. If we substitute God with The Force from Star Wars, I believe a good way to describe their disagreement would be that Jordan Peterson is essentially talking about “The Force” as a very vague and illusive concept, while Sam Harris insists on taking the more linear approach and bring Midi-chlorians into the conversation.

By the way, the main reason I started following Jordan Peterson and Sam Harris has nothing to with God, religion or science. It is because I care a lot about Freedom of Speech. In fact, this is the main reason I decided to start writing here. On that note, let me share with you one more detail about the letter Alef before I sign off. Remember earlier in this article when I said that the shape and names of the Hebrew letters are based on ancient pictograms? Well, the third letter in the name of the letter Alef is Peh (פ) which means mouth.

This means that inside Alef, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, we can see a god (אל) and a mouth (פ or ף). I believe this to be purely a coincidence, but if that’s not the perfect representation of the creation story from the first chapter of the Book of Genesis, then I don’t know what is.

Speech has been with us since the beginning. It is the divine spark that gave birth to us as a species. It is the thing that defines us and enables us to create. It is the reason we thrive rather than just survive. It is our force and our superpower, and that is precisely why we need to champion it above anything else.

My religion is language. Welcome to my Substack.