by Mitch Caller

Ivrit Corner

by Mitch Caller

Chag Sameach everyone!

I am honoured to have been asked to write the first contribution for a new feature in the McDonald’s Shul Bulletin—an “Ivrit corner”—in which the idea is to explore a little of the Hebrew language. On this occasion, I have chosen to write about two words relating to Pesach. This is not a Dvar Torah, but rather a gentle canter around what we can learn from either the construction of a word, or the use, in traditional Hebrew or modern Ivrit, of the same word’s root (שרוש).

So here we go….

םירצמ

The first word I have chosen to discuss is םירצמ (Egypt). What does this word mean? We can learn quite a lot from the way in which the word is constructed. The essence of the word is רצ , which typically means “narrow”, though it can also mean “distress”. This makes sense to us since the Jewish people in slavery in Egypt were clearly narrowly limited in what they were able to do, given the demands of their Egyptian taskmasters. And we read in the Haggadah, of course, of the distress of the Jewish people in the Egyptian slavery.

So what does the first letter, מ, in םירצמ signify? Well, we know that a מ is often the first letter of a noun. So, adding מ to רצ gives us רצמ. Indeed, we know that the word רצמ can mean both distress and, for example, a narrow stretch of water (which is limiting because it is narrow). Think for example of the passuk in Hallel in which we read הכ יתארק רצמה ןמ — “In my distress, I called on the Lord”. Or the passuk in Eicha which refers to םירצמה ןיב, meaning “between the narrow straits”. This phrase, ןיב םירצמה, has come also to mean the period between 17th Tammuz and Tisha B’Av, a distressing period in the Jewish calendar, three weeks which are narrowly bounded by those two fast days. So, we see that the concepts of distress and narrow boundaries are inherent in the word םירצמ.

So, what do the last two letters of םירצמ add to what we have learnt so far?

The word םִיַרְצִמ ends with the classic plural of םי. And, more than that, the way in which the word is pronounced suggests also a reference to the number two. Accordingly, it has been suggested that םירצמ is the land of two things: distress and narrowly-bounded constraints. It is the place where boundaries are in place. In a further understanding of this duality, we can conceive of those boundaries as both physical and spiritual. The Jewish people were limited physically by, and in physical distress because of, the Egyptian slavery. Similarly, the constraints of being slaves in Egypt meant that the לארשי ינב were unable to achieve their spiritual potential without escaping that country’s culture and raising their spiritual level to be fit to receive the Torah on Shavuot.

All explaining why םירצמ is so called…

ץמח

And now for something completely different…

Without making any halachic statement, and put very briefly, Chametz ( ץמח ) is understood to mean any food product from one of 5 stated grains which has come into contact with water for a specific period of time and has thus been allowed to ferment and “rise”. And we are all in practice familiar with what is regarded as ץמח, which cannot be eaten on Pesach. Interestingly, though, the Hebrew language takes us in three additional directions from the three-letter root: 1 ץמח. To ...it has been suggested that םירצמ is the land of two things: distress and narrowlybounded constraints. It is the place where boundaries are in place. pickle (similar perhaps to fermenting) is ץומחל. Similarly, to go sour is ץימחהל. So, for those shoppers amongst you, vinegar is ץמוח. And for the falafel eaters amongst you, pickled cucumbers are םיצומח. Let me give you a different example of going sour. In Gemara Rosh Hashana (3b), we read that Coresh, the King of Persia, was once thought of as a good king but later on he was viewed as less good. How does the Talmud describe that contrast? Whilst he was good, he was described as ץימחהש םדוק (ie before he went

sour) and when he was viewed as less good, he was described as ירחא ץימחהש (after he went sour). 2. Colloquially, in modern Israel, ץימחהל also has a perhaps more surprising meaning— תא ץימחהל תונמדזהה means “to miss the opportunity”. What is the connection with םיצומח?! Well, it seems that one is thereby letting an opportunity go sour! To add a contemporary, trivial, note, Israeli soccer commentators will often say, when a striker misses an open goal: ”!תונמדזהה תא ץימחה אוה ” 3. We have heard in the past two years far too much of a third derivative of: ץמח. The word ןצמח means oxygen. Why might that be? I am unsure, but it has been suggested that, just as ץמח causes the dough to rise or inflate, so oxygen allows the body to inflate. In the light of our collective experience over these past two years, I would also suggest— albeit without a source—that oxygen can also help a sick person to “rise” from his sick bed.

So what do I conclude from this little journey around chametz? That there are clearly negatives about it, because we are commanded to remove it before Pesach. But it is not unremittingly bad. We enjoy challot with it during the rest of the year, and one of its Ivrit derivatives has helped many Covid sufferers recover! I wish all readers a חמשו רשכ חספ גח in good health! n