tam and tamim

Two similar adjectives appear throughout the Bible: tam (תָּם) and tamim (תָּמִים). Both come from the root תמ"ם, and both can describe someone as upright, complete, or perfect. But they aren't always used in exactly the same way. Yaakov (Bereshit 25:27) is called an אִישׁ תָּם, while Noach (Bereshit 6:9) is an אִישׁ צַדִּיק תָּמִים. Iyov (Iyov 1:1) is תָּם וְיָשָׁר, while Avraham (Bereshit 17:1) is commanded to be תָמִים. So what is the difference between the two words?

Let's start with the root תמ"ם. The Ben-Yehuda Dictionary gives the basic meaning of the verb תמם as "to be complete, finished." We find that meaning in verses such as וַיִּתְּמוּ יְמֵי בְכִי אֵבֶל מֹשֶׁה, "the days of mourning for Moshe came to an end" (Devarim 34:8). That basic idea of completion or wholeness is the starting point for both adjectives.

The words tam and tamim are two different adjective forms built from the same root. The ending of tamim may look like a masculine plural ending, but tamim itself is singular. Its plural is temimim תְּמִימִים.

TDOT suggests that tam may represent the older of the two adjective forms, with tamim becoming more common later. Other Semitic languages also have more than one form from this root. Arabic has both tāmm, "complete," and tamīm, with related meanings of completeness or being well formed. Hayim Tawil, in his Akkadian Lexical Companion for Biblical Hebrew, notes the Akkadian cognate tamīmu, which he defines as "perfect." Interestingly, unlike Hebrew tamim, the Akkadian word is restricted to describing animals.

That is worth noting, since one of the most common biblical uses of tamim is also for animals. The Pesach offering must be a שֶׂה תָמִים, an unblemished animal (Shemot 12:5), and sacrificial animals are repeatedly required to be tamim.

But tamim has a much wider meaning in Biblical Hebrew. It can simply mean "complete." The Torah commands that there be שֶׁבַע שַׁבָּתוֹת תְּמִימֹת, "seven complete weeks" (Vayikra 23:15). Yehoshua 10:13 refers to כְּיוֹם תָּמִים, "a whole day." The Ben-Yehuda Dictionary entry for tamim accordingly begins with the definition as something whole, with nothing lacking.

The word can also describe something where a physical blemish is not relevant. We read תּוֹרַת ה׳ תְּמִימָה, "the Torah of God is temimah" (Tehillim 19:8), and הַצּוּר תָּמִים פָּעֳלוֹ, "the Rock, His work is tamim" (Devarim 32:4). Here "unblemished" would be too physical. Something like "whole," "sound," "flawless," or "unimpaired" is closer.

And as noted above, tamim can describe people like Noach and Avraham. The nation of Israel is commanded תָּמִים תִּהְיֶה עִם ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ (Devarim 18:13).

So I don't think we can simply say that tamim originally meant "physically without blemish" and was later borrowed as a metaphor for moral perfection. That is certainly possible, but the biblical uses already cover several different areas. It may be more useful to start with the general idea of something being whole, complete, or unimpaired. An animal can be physically whole, a period of time can be complete, an action can be flawless, and a person can be whole in character or loyalty.

The description of Noach shows how difficult it can be to pin down the exact sense. In the phrase אִישׁ צַדִּיק תָּמִים הָיָה, Cassuto does not take tzaddik and tamim as two separate qualities. He understands tamim as strengthening tzaddik: Noach was "completely righteous."

Cassuto compares the red heifer in Bamidbar 19:2, which is described as פָרָה אֲדֻמָּה תְּמִימָה אֲשֶׁר אֵין־בָּהּ מוּם. If temimah already meant "without blemish," he argues, then אשר אין בה מום, "which has no blemish," would be redundant. He therefore takes temimah with adumah: the cow is completely red. Similarly, Noach is completely righteous.

Nahum Sarna, in the JPS commentary on Genesis, understands the verse differently. He notes the common use of tamim for an unblemished sacrificial animal and sees the human use as an extension of that meaning. A person who is tamim is morally "unblemished," someone of "unimpeachable integrity." On that reading, tzaddik and tamim are two different descriptions of Noach.

Tawil's Akkadian tamīmu, used specifically of "perfect" animals, makes Sarna's comparison particularly interesting. But it still doesn't prove that the moral sense historically developed from the animal sense. TDOT is more cautious. It points out that tam, tamim, and the related nouns tom תֹּם and tumah תֻּמָּה overlap considerably in the Bible. Different texts may prefer different forms, but those preferences don't give us a clear distinction in meaning.

A better clue to the human meaning may come from the words found alongside them. Words from תמ"ם are often associated with yashar ישר, "straight, upright," and contrasted with crookedness, falsehood, and deceit.

For example, Tehillim 15:2 says:

הוֹלֵךְ תָּמִים וּפֹעֵל צֶדֶק וְדֹבֵר אֱמֶת בִּלְבָבוֹ

The person who walks tamim acts righteously and "speaks truth in his heart." That last phrase is significant. The person's speech matches what is in his heart.

Similarly, Tehillim 101:2 has אֶתְהַלֵּךְ בְּתָם־לְבָבִי, "I will walk with tom of heart." Here "wholeness" seems to mean that the person is not divided within himself.

This understanding is particularly helpful for תָּמִים תִּהְיֶה עִם ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ in Devarim 18:13. Jeffrey Tigay, in the JPS commentary on Deuteronomy, explains tamim there as "undivided in your loyalty to God, relying on Him alone." He compares Yehoshua 24:14, where Israel is told to serve God בְּתָמִים וּבֶאֱמֶת and then immediately commanded to remove the gods their ancestors had served.

That also fits the context in Devarim. The preceding verses prohibit divination, sorcery, consulting the dead, and other attempts to obtain supernatural knowledge. Being tamim with God means that one's reliance on Him should not be divided between Him and other sources of supernatural knowledge or security.

Tigay finds a related sense in הַצּוּר תָּמִים פָּעֳלוֹ. He notes that tamim literally means "whole," "unimpaired," or "flawless," but here the sense is "reliable" or "faithful." God's actions are tamim because there is nothing defective or compromised about them.

So tamim has a wide range in the Bible, but the meanings are connected. Something tamim is whole in the relevant respect. It may be a complete period of time, an undamaged animal, a flawless deed, an undivided loyalty, or a person of integrity.

What about tam?

The biblical use of tam is much narrower. It is overwhelmingly associated with people and their character. The Ben-Yehuda Dictionary entry for tam notes that its basic sense is "whole," like tamim, but that in the Tanakh it is generally used figuratively of a person's character.

The clearest example is Iyov, who is introduced as אִישׁ תָּם וְיָשָׁר (Iyov 1:1). The pairing of tam with yashar points to integrity, blamelessness, or uprightness.

The description of Yaakov is less obvious:

וְיַעֲקֹב אִישׁ תָּם יֹשֵׁב אֹהָלִים

(Bereshit 25:27)

Translations have offered "plain," "quiet," "blameless," and "simple." These each point to different possible aspects of Yaakov’s personality. 

There are also a few verses that show that tam was not completely limited to moral character. In Shir HaShirim, the beloved is called יוֹנָתִי תַמָּתִי, "my dove, my tamati" (Shir HaShirim 5:2; see also 6:9). The meaning is close to "my perfect one." 

So already in the Bible, the difference between tam and tamim is more a matter of tendency than a strict division. Tamim is the broad, productive word. It can describe animals, periods of time, actions, loyalty, and people. Tam overlaps with it, but is much more strongly associated with a person's character.

In Rabbinic Hebrew, a new technical use of tam appears in the expression shor tam שור תם. A shor tam is an ox that has not been established as habitually dangerous, in contrast to a shor muad שור מועד (see, for example, Mishnah Bava Kamma 2:4). The Ben-Yehuda Dictionary describes it as an animal in which no bad disposition has yet become known. Here tam seems to mean something like “ordinary” or “still in its normal state,” before dangerous behavior has become an established trait. That sense is not identical to the biblical “upright” or “whole,” but it still fits reasonably well with the idea of an animal whose nature is presumed sound or normal unless repeated behavior proves otherwise. 

Perhaps the most famous rabbinic tam is the third of the Four Sons in the Haggadah:

אֶחָד חָכָם, וְאֶחָד רָשָׁע, וְאֶחָד תָּם, וְאֶחָד שֶׁאֵינוֹ יוֹדֵעַ לִשְׁאוֹל.

The tam asks only מַה זֹּאת?, “What is this?” The chacham, by contrast, asks the much more detailed question מָה הָעֵדוֹת וְהַחֻקִּים וְהַמִּשְׁפָּטִים. So the tam is clearly the less intellectually sophisticated of the two.

The textual history makes this even clearer. In the parallel tradition in the Jerusalem Talmud, the third son is called tipesh טיפש (“dull, stupid”) rather than tam. David Henshke, in Mah Nishtanah? (p. 358), notes that the manuscript versions of the Mekhilta also read tipesh, while the printed edition has tam, apparently under the influence of the familiar Haggadah text. Yosef Tabory cautions that we cannot know with certainty which term was original, but Henshke argues that tipesh is more likely to be earlier: it is easier to understand a harsh term being softened to tam than the reverse.

Daniel Goldschmidt makes essentially the same suggestion in his Haggadah commentary (p. 28), writing that tipesh was replaced by tam, apparently so as not to insult simple people. Kasher, in his Haggadah commentary (p. 120), also notes the Mekhilta’s reading tipesh and points to Rashi’s comment on Shemot 13:14, where the child who asks מה זאת is described as a tipesh, one who “does not know how to deepen his question” and therefore simply asks, “What is this?”

If tam did replace tipesh, it was a fitting substitute. The child remained intellectually unsophisticated, but tam carried more positive associations of sincerity, uprightness, and lack of guile. This also suggests that the Haggadah may not prove that tam itself independently developed from “whole” all the way to “simple-minded.” Rather, a word already associated with guilelessness may have been chosen as a gentler label for a child who had previously been called tipesh.

Medieval commentators help explain why tam worked so well in that role.

Rashi, commenting on Yaakov's אִישׁ תָּם in Bereshit 25:27, writes:

“His heart was like his mouth; someone who is not sharp at deceiving others is called tam.”

Rashi is not saying that Yaakov lacked intelligence. The point is that he lacked duplicity. What was in his heart matched what came out of his mouth. That is very close to the biblical idea of integrity that we saw earlier.

And it provides a natural connection to the later meaning. Someone who is sincere is not duplicitous. Someone who does not deceive others is guileless. Someone who is guileless may also appear unsophisticated or naïve.

Rashi gives another useful interpretation of the related tamim. On Devarim 18:13, he writes:

“Walk with God be-temimut, look to Him, and do not investigate the future.”

Here the meaning is not intellectual simplicity. It is wholehearted reliance, very close to Tigay's "undivided loyalty."

R. Samson Raphael Hirsch on Bereshit 17:1 develops that idea further. He understands tamim as something complete, with neither too much nor too little. When applied to a person's relationship with God, it describes someone whose attention is wholly directed toward serving Him.

Hirsch then makes an interesting observation. Such a person might actually be easier for others to deceive, because he is not occupied with calculating their hidden motives. Hirsch does not define tamim as "naïve," but his explanation does show how wholeheartedness and straightforwardness can lead to guilelessness and lack of suspicion.

At this point the Modern Hebrew sense becomes especially interesting.

The Ben-Yehuda Dictionary entry for tam records later uses in which the word describes someone unsophisticated or not especially clever. This is much closer to the sense associated with the tam of the Haggadah.

But tamim eventually moved into the same territory. The Ben-Yehuda Dictionary entry for tamim notes that the word was also used in the sense of someone simple or naïve. The related noun temimut likewise came to mean naïveté. In Modern Hebrew, when tamim describes a person, it commonly means “naïve,” “innocent,” or “too trusting,” rather than “perfect.” 

So tam and tamim never developed completely separate meanings. Instead, their different patterns of use gave them different aspects of meaning: tamim remained the broader word, while tam became particularly associated with a person's character and, eventually, simplicity and guilelessness. And behind both, even after all of those later developments, we can still see the original idea of being whole. .

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perekh and parochet

The two Hebrew words, פֶּרֶךְ perekh and פָּרֹכֶת parokhet, look like they should be related. But are they?

The word פֶּרֶךְ appears six times in the Tanakh. Twice it describes the enslavement of the Israelites in Egypt, three times in Vayikra in laws prohibiting harsh treatment of Israelite servants, and once in Yechezkel, in the prophet's criticism of the leaders of Israel.

For example, we read:

וַיַּעֲבִדוּ מִצְרַיִם אֶת־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּפָרֶךְ
"And the Egyptians made the Israelites work with harshness."
(Shemot 1:13)

The word פֶּרֶךְ is an abstract noun, and in every biblical occurrence it is preceded by the preposition ב־. The phrase בְּפָרֶךְ therefore functions adverbially, describing how the work or rule was imposed. It is commonly translated "harshly," "ruthlessly," or "with rigor."

Some translations make the meaning more specific. Robert Alter translates the verse, "And the Egyptians put the Israelites to work at crushing labor," and explains that he understands the word according to a root meaning "to break into pieces" or "to pulverize." Everett Fox similarly has "with crushing-labor," following the early rabbinic interpretation.

These translations capture one important understanding of פֶּרֶךְ, but "labor" is not actually contained in the word פֶּרֶךְ. It is supplied from the context. This becomes particularly clear in Vayikra, where בְּפָרֶךְ modifies the verb רדה, "to rule," rather than עבד, "to work." So a translation such as "with harshness" or "with severity" more closely reflects the grammatical form of the word.

The interpretation reflected by Alter and Fox has a long history. Rashi explains פֶּרֶךְ as עבודה קשה המפרכת את הגוף ומשברתו, hard labor that breaks down the body. And the root פרך is indeed used in later Hebrew with the meaning "break, crush, crumble." Klein defines it as "to break, crush, rub, grind, crumble." Related words include parikh פָּרִיךְ, something brittle or crisp, and hifrikh הִפְרִיךְ, which in modern Hebrew means "to refute," as in the sense of breaking down an argument.

Not all scholars, however, understand פֶּרֶךְ from the idea of crushing. Hayim Tawil compares it with Akkadian pirku and pariktu, words associated with “harm, wrong, injustice.” On that basis, בְּפָרֶךְ may originally have meant something like “with injustice” or “with ruthless oppression,” rather than “with crushing force.” The Encyclopaedia Mikrait likewise discusses Akkadian evidence connected with coercion and oppressive labor. To support this, Tawil quotes Rambam (Hilkhot Avadim 1:6), who writes that perekh indicates labor that is unnecessary, i.e., unjust/unjustified.

Parokhet is built on the same three consonants as perekh.  The פָּרֹכֶת was the curtain in the Mishkan separating the Holy from the Holy of Holies:

וְהִבְדִּילָה הַפָּרֹכֶת לָכֶם בֵּין הַקֹּדֶשׁ וּבֵין קֹדֶשׁ הַקֳּדָשִׁים
"...The parokhet shall separate for you between the Holy and the Holy of Holies."
(Shemot 26:33)

In later Jewish usage, parochet also came to refer to the curtain placed in front of the Torah ark in a synagogue.

The meaning of פָּרֹכֶת seems fairly easy to explain. A number of scholars compare it with Akkadian parāku, meaning "to lay across, block, obstruct, shut off." Akkadian also has pariktu, meaning a barrier, wall, curtain, or obstruction. That fits the function of the parokhet very well: it lay across the sanctuary and blocked both access and view.

Cassuto on Shemot 26:3, for example, writes that פָּרֹכֶת comes from a root פרך whose original meaning was "to close, shut." Kaddari similarly derives it from the root corresponding to Akkadian parāku, "to block a road." The Encyclopaedia Mikrait and TDOT also give this as a major explanation. TDOT notes that the curtain "functioned as a barrier obstructing access and view."

So it's not really a question as to what פָּרֹכֶת means. The debate is whether the פֶּרֶךְ of Egyptian slavery belongs to the same root.

Some dictionaries say no. BDB distinguishes two roots פרך. One is behind פֶּרֶךְ, "harshness, severity." The other is related to Akkadian parāku, "bar, shut off," and is the source of פָּרֹכֶת. Klein appears to make a similar distinction. He lists פֶּרֶךְ among the derivatives of the root meaning "break, crush, rub, grind, crumble," while his entry for פָּרֹכֶת instead compares Akkadian parāku, "to go across, bar."

In this approach, the resemblance between פֶּרֶךְ and פָּרֹכֶת is a coincidence. They represent two different roots that just happen to have the same consonants.

Other scholars are more willing to connect them. HALOT places both פֶּרֶךְ and פָּרֹכֶת under the same presumed, reconstructed root *פרך. The comparative evidence includes a surprisingly broad group of meanings: crushing and rubbing on the one hand, but also blocking, obstructing, violence, and injustice on the other. The word פָּרֹכֶת is explained as something that "blocks off, separates," while פֶּרֶךְ is associated with violence and oppressive servitude.

Kaddari likewise brings Akkadian parāku, "to block a road," into his discussion of both words, while also citing related forms meaning cruelty, rubbing, and pressing.

The Ben-Yehuda dictionary offers perhaps the most interesting attempt to connect them. It takes the older meaning of פרך to be "close, lock, confine." It then suggests that עֲבוֹדַת פֶּרֶךְ originally referred specifically to the labor of slaves who were confined or imprisoned. It describes them as עבדים כלואים, imprisoned slaves.

According to this interpretation, the connection of פרך with פָּרֹכֶת becomes quite solid The parokhet is something that shuts off a space; perekh may originally have described the forced labor of people who themselves were shut in.

So this leaves us with three main explanations of פֶּרֶךְ.

One sees it as deriving from "break, crush," the interpretation found in traditional Jewish commentary and reflected in modern translations such as Alter's and Fox's.

Another connects it with "block, shut off, confine," which would make פֶּרֶךְ and פָּרֹכֶת two derivatives of the same root. The Ben-Yehuda dictionary's suggestion that perekh referred to the labor of imprisoned slaves is the clearest version of this view.

A third understands it primarily in terms of injustice, violence, or ruthless treatment, based particularly on the Akkadian evidence emphasized by Tawil.

These meanings may seem far apart, but the Akkadian evidence itself makes the picture less tidy. Forms in this group can refer to obstruction and barriers, but also to violence and injustice. That may explain why HALOT is comfortable treating them as one broad etymological family, while BDB and Klein prefer to separate them.

So while פָּרֹכֶת is very likely connected with the idea of blocking or shutting off, the origin of פֶּרֶךְ remains less certain. It may refer to labor that crushes, labor imposed with ruthless injustice, or, as the Ben-Yehuda dictionary suggests, labor carried out under confinement.

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tovel

The verb טָבַל taval appears 16 times in the Tanakh. In almost all of them, it means "to dip, to immerse" (something in a liquid). In one verse, however, it means to immerse oneself:

וַיֵּרֶד וַיִּטְבֹּל בַּיַּרְדֵּן שֶׁבַע פְּעָמִים כִּדְבַר אִישׁ הָאֱלֹהִים וַיָּשׇׁב בְּשָׂרוֹ כִּבְשַׂר נַעַר קָטֹן וַיִּטְהָר׃

"So he [Naaman] went down and immersed himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had bidden; and his flesh became like a little boy’s, and he was pure." (Melachim II 5:14)

The use of the kal form taval to describe ritual dipping in water is familiar from Talmudic and later Hebrew (along with the gerund tevila טְבִילָה - "immersion.") But in rest of Tanakh, the verb rachatz רחץ is used for such bathing. In fact, in the same story of Naaman, we find use of rachatz in the previous verse: רְחַץ וּטְהָר - "bathe and be pure."

Since in Rabbinic Hebrew taval generally referred to ritual immersion of a person in a mikveh, the other forms of the verb (absent in biblical Hebrew) were added for the dipping of things like food in liquids. Perhaps most famous of them is the dipping done at the Pesach seder. One of the four questions refers to it, and it also appears in the Mishna (Pesachim 10:4). The two most common versions of the question read today ask:

 שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ מַטְבִּילִין פַּעַם אַחַת, הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים

"On all other nights we dip [our food] once; [however] on this night we dip twice."

Or alternatively:

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּעַם אֶחָת – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים.

"On all other nights we do not dip [our food] at all; [however] on this night we dip twice."

I won't get into the question about which account of normal dipping is accurate (see Safrai's commentary for a discussion). But I do want to point out that the verb for dipping here is מַטְבִּילִין matbilin - in the hifil form. However, in many manuscripts of the Haggadah and Mishna we find the verb in the piel form: מְטַבְּלִים mitablim. Both piel and hifil here are transitive verbs - describing dipping something else. I haven't seen evidence that there was a distinction between them in Talmudic usage. Yet, they are clearly distinct from the common meaning of tovel: ritual immersion of a person in the mikveh.

These distinctions continued throughout Medieval Hebrew, but in Modern Hebrew, there is a return to the biblical usage. While taval in a religious sense can still refer to ritual immersion, it is also used for dipping of food in liquids or sauces. The hifil verb, הִטְבִּיל hitbil, is generally reserved for the transitive act of ritually immersing someone else in water - i.e., baptism. 

And what about the piel form טִבֵּל tibel? While it does mean "to dip," it seems that it fell out of favor due to the similar sounding תִּבֵּל tibel - "to spice, flavor, season." While Hebrew can handle homonyms, in this case both words not only refer to food, but specifically to adding something else to food, which would be confusing. So by returning to the biblical taval, the distinction between dipping and seasoning remained clear.

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shaka, shkiah, and sheka

The Hebrew root שקע shaka means "to sink [down], submerge, depress." It only appears six times as a verb in the Tanakh, and once more as the noun מִשְׁקָע mishka in the phrase מִשְׁקַע־מַיִם, meaning "settled [literally 'settling/sinking of'] water" in Yechezkel 34:18.

However, the uses, forms, and derivatives expanded in Rabbinic, Medieval, and Modern Hebrew. Let's take a look some of them.

While the primary meaning of the kal form of the verb שָׁקַע is physical sinking, we already find in the Torah a more figurative sense. Bamidbar 11:2 says וַתִּשְׁקַע הָאֵשׁ - that the fire subsided, died down.

In Rabbinic Hebrew we find the verb used to describe the setting of the sun - שקע השמש (or שקע החמה). From here we find in Medieval Hebrew the familiar term שְׁקִיעָה skkiah - "sunset" (an abbreviated form  of the longer term שְׁקִיעַת־הַחַמָּה, which is found in earlier Talmudic literature). 

This is also the origin of the modern word שֶׁקַע sheka. It originally could mean depression, indentation, or hollow recess, but today it means electrical socket or outlet, presumably because of the recession it's formed by.

The piel form of the verb, שִׁקַּע, isn't used frequently today. It can mean submerge, but I think הִטְבִּיעַ is more common. However שִׁקַּע does have a scientific use - "to precipitate" and the noun form שִׁקּוּעַ means "precipitation", in the chemical sense of the "sedimentation of a solid material from a liquid solution". But the meteorological version of precipitation - "water that forms in the atmosphere and falls back to the Earth's surface" - is rendered into Hebrew as מִשְׁקָעִים miska'im. That's a form of the biblical word miskha we saw earlier, which in Modern Hebrew now means "sediment, residue, deposit."

The hifil form, הִשְׁקִיעַ, originally was the transitive form of שָׁקַע, and meant "to cause to sink [lower]".  Today, however, it means "to invest." That sense appears in the piel form in Rabbinic Hebrew, for example, in Yerushalmi Shekalim 3:4  כַּמָּה מָמוֹן שִׁיקְּעוּ אֲבוֹתַיי כָאן - "How much money did my forefathers invest here?". This extension of the meaning can be understood by thinking about how "deposit" can mean both "to put down" and "to invest." (You can also "sink your money" into something.) At some point in the Modern period, this usage moved to the hifil form, as noted. The noun, הַשְׁקָעָה hashka'ah - means "investment." In colloquial Hebrew, the adjective מֻשְׁקָע mushka means "well-made", something that someone clearly "invested" a lot of effort in.

The hitpael form, which is usually more intensive, is הִשְׁתַּקֵּעַ hishtakea. It has a few different meanings. According to Morfix, they include: 

to settle, to put down roots, to establish a permanent residence ; to immerse oneself (in an activity)

Klein adds the post-biblical sense of "sank into oblivion, was forgotten."

This form might be most familiar from the Pesach Haggadah:

וַיָּגָר שָׁם. מְלַמֵּד שֶׁלֹא יָרַד יַעֲקֹב אָבִינוּ לְהִשְׁתַּקֵּעַ בְּמִצְרַיִם אֶלָּא לָגוּר שָׁם

"And resided there: From this, learn that our father Yaakov went down not to permanently settle [לְהִשְׁתַּקֵּעַ] in Egypt, but only to reside there [for a time]."

I was curious as to why the verb לְהִשְׁתַּקֵּעַ was used here. It's rather uncommon in Rabbinic Hebrew, and I might have expected the more familiar הִתְיַשֵּׁב, with a similar meaning. I couldn't find a commentary on the Haggadah (or the parallel midrash to it), but I have a theory.

In three of the six biblical verses where the root שקע appears (Yechezkel 32:14, Amos 8:8, Amos 9:5), there is a reference to Egypt, particularly the waters of the Nile. 

The same root also appears elsewhere in the Haggadah, in the Dayenu song:

אִלּוּ הֶעֱבִירָנוּ בְתוֹכוֹ בֶּחָרָבָה וְלֹא שִׁקַּע צָרֵנוּ בְתוֹכוֹ דַּיֵּנוּ.

"Had He brought us through [the sea] dry without drowning [שִׁקַּע] our enemies in it, that would have been enough for us."

So perhaps the verb לְהִשְׁתַּקֵּעַ was chosen here because of its association with Egypt and the Egyptians. And the midrash on the verse might be hinting that had Yaakov intended to settle there permanently, his descendants might have ended up just like those Egyptians. 

That might explain why Rambam (Hilchot Melachim 5:8) chose the same verb when describing the halakhic prohibition to settle in Egypt. He first mentions that it is permissible to return to Egypt for trade and commerce, but then notes:

וְאֵין אָסוּר אֶלָּא לְהִשְׁתַּקֵעַ שָׁם.

"It is only prohibited to settle [לְהִשְׁתַּקֵעַ] there."

Later [5:9], when referring to living in other lands, Rambam does not use that verb, rather:

אֲבָל לִשְׁכֹּן בְּחוּצָה לָאָרֶץ אָסוּר

"It is forbidden to reside [לִשְׁכֹּן] outside the Land of Israel."

It seems that Rambam, like the author of the Haggadah, understood the ancient connection between שקע and Egypt.

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tzfardea

The Hebrew word for "frog", צְפַרְדֵּעַ tzfardea, appears 13 times in the Tanakh. All of them are related to the plague in Egypt. Eleven of them are in the book of Shemot during the narrative of that plague, and two are from separate chapters of Tehillim recounting the plagues - Tehillim 78:45 and Tehillim 105:30.

Klein provides the following etymology:

Related to JAram. אוּרְדּעָא, עוּרדְּעָא, Syr. אוּרְדְּעָא, Arab. ḍafda‘, ḍifdi‘ (= frog).

He also points to his entry for the verb ערדע:

to croak; lit.: ‘to make the sound of the frog’. [From Aram. עֻרדּעָא (= frog), which is related to Heb. צְפַרְדֵּע.]

While Klein doesn't say it explicitly, many scholars claim that the origin of tzfardea is ultimately onomatopoeic - it sounds like the sound of a frog croaking (for example, see Encyclopedia Mikrait, entry צפרדע). This is more clearly seen in the Aramaic form urda or the Arabic form dafda, which both sound like a frog. The assumption is that Hebrew might have added a consonant to the Semitic root - either a resh to the version expressed in the Arabic form or a tzade to the one in the Aramaic form, creating a longer word which doesn't immediately carry the association of a frog's croak. The five letters of tzfardea are rare in Hebrew words, which led some scholars to propose that it was borrowed from Egyptian or another non-Semitic language. But since no evidence has been found in those languages for such a word, the onomatopoeia theory is the most convincing.

In his book "Wordplay" in Ancient Near Eastern Texts, Scott B. Noegel describes the use of this onomatopoeia as a literary device in the story of the plague (page 61):

The narrative depicting the plague of frogs offers an extraordinary display of onomatopoeia. Not only do we hear croaking in the very word ְצַפְרְדִּעים ṣǝp̄ardǝʿīm “frogs,” itself an onomatopoeia, we hear it eleven times in only sixteen verses, far more often than the story demands. Three of the consonants in the noun “frog” (p, r, ʿ ) repeat eight times in the title ַפְּרֹעה parʿōh “pharaoh.” Four times we also hear the sounds /r/ and /ṣ/ repeated in ִמְצָרִים miṣrāyīm “Egypt” (Exod 8:2) and ֶאֶרץִ מְצָרִים ʾɛrɛṣ miṣrāyīm “the land of Egypt” (Exod 8:1, 2, 3). In Exod 8:5, Moses asks pharaoh, “do you glorify yourself ( ִהְתָפֵּאר hiṯpāʾēr)?,” using a verb that reverberates the consonants p and r. 

Perhaps surprisingly (considering the parallels in the other Semitic languages), not all scholars identify the tzfardea as "frog", instead proposing the more threatening "crocodile." This is suggested by the description of the tzfardea in Tehillim 78:45:

יְשַׁלַּח בָּהֶם עָרֹב וַיֹּאכְלֵם וּצְפַרְדֵּעַ וַתַּשְׁחִיתֵם׃

He sent against them [Egypt] the horde [arov] to consume them and the tzfardea to destroy them.

A plague of frogs might be disturbing, but they wouldn't fit the word "destroy" here. Saadia Gaon in his Arabic translation to Tehillim therefore identifies the tzfardea with "crocodile" (although not in his commentary and translation of Shemot), and Ibn Ezra in his commentary on Shemot 7:27 cites this opinion before rejecting it in favor of the more common identification with "frog." Other commentaries who mention this approach include Rabbeinu Chananel, Ramban, Abarbanel, and Rabbeinu Bachye.

Frogs seem like a more likely candidate than crocodiles particularly due to the description in Shemot 7:28, where Moshe warns Pharoah that the tzfardea will "enter your palace, your bedchamber and your bed, the houses of your courtiers and your people, and your ovens and your kneading bowls." Frogs could easily swarm into ovens and kneading bowls, but crocodiles obviously could not. Similar imagery is found in Tehillim 105, which says the tzfardea were "swarming" (more appropriate for smaller animals like frogs) in the room of the king:

שָׁרַץ אַרְצָם צְפַרְדְּעִים בְּחַדְרֵי מַלְכֵיהֶם׃ 

R. Samson Raphael Hirsch adds that had the tzfardea been crocodiles, no Egyptians would have survived that plague.

So how should the phrase "destroy them" in Tehillim 78 be understood? Daat Mikra on the verse suggests that "destroy them" applies to the arov [perhaps wild animals] and the tzfardea together. This is supported by the fact that the verb for destroy, שחת, appears in Shemot 8:20 in association with the arov. 

In the description of the plague, sometimes we find tzfardea in the singular, and other times in the plural - צְפַרְדְּעִים. In his commentary on Shemot 8:2, where the singular tzfardea is used, Rashi provides two explanations for this:

There was only one frog, but when they struck at it, it was split into many swarms. This is a Midrashic explanation. But as a literal explanation one must say that the swarm of the frogs is denoted by the singular form. 

He goes on to cite Shemot 8:14, which refers to lice in the singular, also meaning a swarm of lice. Chizkuni adds that we also find a group of snakes referred to in the singular in Bamidbar 21:7.

Further reading:

• "The Frog was a Crocodile" by Prof. Daniel Sperber
• TZEFARDE’A: FROGS OR CROCODILES? by by Rabbi Dr. Natan Slifkin (republished more recently here)
• צפרדע וקרפדה by the Academy of the Hebrew Language

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geula

When we think of the word גְּאֻלָּה geula - we typically think of a divine redemption or salvation, perhaps with a messianic bent. It could be spiritual or it could be physical, but God is the one doing the redeeming.

However, the root גאל - "to redeem" - doesn't have that meaning exclusively. In the Tanakh, we find it frequently referring to redemption by humans: redemption of land, or redemption of other humans (for example, slaves).

For example, in Vayikra 25:25, if an Israelite becomes poor and sells part of his ancestral property, the Torah says:

וּבָא גֹאֲלוֹ הַקָּרֹב אֵלָיו וְגָאַל אֵת מִמְכַּר אָחִיו
“His nearest goel shall come and redeem what his relative sold.”

The goel here is the close relative who has the right, and in some cases the responsibility, to recover property that has left the family.

The same chapter extends this role to a relative who has sold himself into servitude. A brother, uncle, cousin, or other close relative can redeem him.

This is also the background to the role of the goel in the book of Ruth. Boaz is a goel because he belongs to Naomi's family circle. There is an even closer relative who has the first claim, and when he declines, Boaz steps in.

In Ruth 4:6, the nearer relative tells Boaz:

גְּאַל־לְךָ אַתָּה אֶת־גְּאֻלָּתִי כִּי לֹא אוּכַל לִגְאֹל

 "You redeem my geula, for I cannot redeem."

Here גְּאֻלָּתִי does not mean “my salvation.” It means something like “my right [or obligation] of redemption,” the claim that belongs to him as the closer relative.

This helps explain another Biblical expression that otherwise seems quite far removed from “redemption”:  goel hadam גּוֹאֵל הַדָּם.

This is usually translated “the avenger of blood,” the relative who acts in response to the killing of a family member.

Why call such a person a goel?

The answer seems to lie in the role rather than in one specific action. The goel is the relative who represents the family's interests and is authorized to act when something has been lost, violated, or taken away.

Some linguists claimed that this legal sense of restoring family property was the original meaning of the root גאל, and it only later expanded to the divine one we're more familiar with today. However, there are early examples of supernatural redemption. For example, Yaakov says in Bereishit 48:16:

הַמַּלְאָךְ הַגֹּאֵל אֹתִי מִכָּל־רָע

“the angel who redeems me from all evil.”

In addition to the angel mentioned (as opposed to human intervention), there is no land transaction here, no purchase price, and no family property. The meaning is clearly “rescue” or “deliver” in the broader sense.

Sometimes both meanings can overlap. Take Shemot 6:6, where God says:

וְגָאַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בִּזְרוֹעַ נְטוּיָה

“I will redeem you with an outstretched arm.”

On the one hand, God is redeeming Israel from Egyptian slavery, in the same way a family member would redeem an enslaved relative. But on the other hand, God is redeeming His people, so this is a case of divine salvation. 

In modern times, we find the same dual meaning. The Zionist project talked about גְּאֻלַּת הָאָרֶץ geulat ha'aretz - literally, "redemption of the land." It describes both a practical project of acquiring and settling parcels of land while at the same time evoking a much larger historical and religious vision.

There is also a second Biblical root spelled גאל, traditionally understood as meaning “defile” or “pollute.” It only appears in 11 verses, as opposed to the 105 verses with the meaning "redeem."

Some scholars try to connect the two meanings (see here), but the widespread approach (for example cited by Klein) is that this second meaning is related to the root געל, also meaning to "defile." (See my post here about how the root געל came to mean "defile" and  "rinse, clean, purify,")

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