Daniel 2:10–11 — Semitic Language Study
עֲנֹ֨ו כַשְׂדָּיֵא קֳדָם־מַלְכָּא֙ וְאָ֣מְרִ֔ין לָֽא־אִיתַ֤י אֲנָשׁ֙ עַל־יַבֶּשְׁתָּ֔א דִּ֚י מִלַּ֣ת מַלְכָּ֔א יוּכַ֖ל לְהַחֲוָיָ֑ה כָּל־קֳבֵ֗ל דִּ֚י כָּל־מֶ֙לֶךְ֙ רַ֣ב וְשַׁלִּ֔יט מִלָּ֤ה כִדְנָה֙ לָ֣א שְׁאֵ֔ל לְכָל־חַרְטֹּ֖ם וְאָשַׁ֥ף וְכַשְׂדָּֽי וּמִלְּתָ֨א דִֽי־מַלְכָּ֤ה שָׁאֵל֙ יַקִּירָ֔ה וְאָחֳרָן֙ לָ֣א אִיתַ֔י דִּ֥י יְחַוִּנַּ֖הּ קֳדָ֣ם מַלְכָּ֑א לָהֵ֣ן אֱלָהִ֔ין דִּ֚י מְדָ֣רְהֹ֔ון עִם־בִּשְׂרָ֖א לָ֥א אִיתֹֽוהִי׃
The Chaldeans answered before the king and they said, “There is not a mortal upon this dry ground who is able to declare the matter of the king, for as of every king, lord, and ruler such a matter has never been asked for of any magician, astrologer, or Chaldean. And the matter that the king asks is burdensome and there is none other who can tell it before the king except the gods whose dwelling is not with flesh.”
The Hebrew Bible has several words that describe “humanity”. The first, אָדָם ’adam, is probably the most famous. It connotes the color red (אָדֹם ’adom), specifically the “redness” of the soil which is the same root in the feminine form, אדמה ’adamah. Also from this root is the name אֱדֹם ’edom which is ascribed to Esau in the book of Genesis. Consonantally of course, these are all identical — the inflection of vocular sounds, as well as its itinerary in the text, determines its “meaning”. It is also important to point out that, conceptually speaking, the root אדם is also connected to the word דָּם dam — blood, and interestingly for this particular entry, דָּמָה damah — to perish. The verb דָּמַם damam similarly has the connotation of “ceasing” or “stopping”. So in this consonantal matrix (between אדם and דמם) we have the functions — man, red, ground/soil, and perish.
Secondarily, we also have the word אִישׁ ’iš (as well as its feminine equivalent אִשָּׁה ’išah) which is typically glossed as “man/ woman” but really just refers to an individual (whether they be human or not). Because it functions as “individual”, it usually does not take a plural form (save three outliers: Ps 141:4, Pro 8:4, and Isa 53:3). That this is the best rendering of the noun is demonstrated by examples such as Genesis 7:2 where it describes a pair of animal mates or Ezekiel 1:9 when it refers to the winged creatures in the prophet’s vision.
Other words that function similarly are גֶּבֶר geber — strong man and רַגְלִ֥ים raglim — foot soldiers. Both of these roots are common in Arabic. The former, expressed as جَبَّارٍ jabār, refers to a “tyrant”. The verbal form can refer to the “restoration of broken parts” and is famous in the field of mathematics as algebra, literally referring to the process of solving and manipulating equations to restore or “reunite” unknowns into a solution. Related to this reading, the Ge‘ez word for “labor” is ገብር gäbr from the same root. It is also the source of the name of the archangel Gabriel (جِبْرِيل / גַּבְרִיאֵל). The root רגל is also prominent in Arabic as the most common word for man, رَجُلٌ rajul.
The Aramaic word for “man” used in 2:10 is אֲנָשׁ֙ ’anaš which is cognate with the Hebrew אֱנוֹשׁ ’enoš (as in Adam’s grandson through Seth) and the Arabic إنسان insān. The verbal form אָנַשׁ ’anaš in Hebrew means to “be weak, frail, incurable, or sick”. A striking use of this word is used in 2 Samuel when God kills the son Bathsheba bore to David.
וַיֵּלֶךְ נָתָן אֶל־בֵּיתוֹ וַיִּגֹּף יְהוָה אֶת־הַיֶּלֶד אֲשֶׁריָלְדָה אֵשֶׁת־אוּרִיָּה לְדָוִד וַיֵּאָנַשׁ׃
And Nathan departed to his house and God struck the boy who was born of Uriah’s wife to David, and he was mortally sick. — 2 Sam. 12:15
In Jeremiah 17:9, we are told that the human heart is mortally sick/ incurable. It is often wrongly translated to “wicked” or “depraved”, which is the source of John Calvin’s infamous “total depravity” doctrine.
עָקֹב הַלֵּב מִכֹּל וְאָנֻשׁ הוּא מִי יֵדָעֶנּוּ׃
The heart is deceitful in all things and mortally sick, who can know it? — Jer. 17:9
Interestingly the Septuagint, translating the consonantal text, renders אָנֻשׁ֙ ׁ’anuš in this verse to ἄνθρωπος anthrōpos — human. To be human is to be mortal. It reminds me of the functionality of הֶבֶל hebel in scripture. Man comes and goes and is a vanishing breath. Trying to be any more than that will result in vanity, hence the admonition of Ecclesiastes.
It’s brilliant.
The next word, יַבֶּשְׁתָּ֔א yabešta — the dry land is virtually identical to its Hebrew counterpart in the construct state, יַבֶּשֶׁת yabešet. The noun in the absolute state is the more common יַבָּשָׁה yabašah which first occurs in Genesis 1. This description of the land offers a striking literary mark in Genesis’ inaugural chapter, clearly making a distinction between the dangerous watery chaos and the dry land suitable for terrestrial life. When used as a verb though, the connotation is anything but positive. It is often utilized to describe the dryness of something that is dead or barren. The verb in question is יָבֵשׁ yabeš — to be dry/ without moisture (Arabic: ي- ب- س). Notice the crystal clear itinerary of this root in the book of Ezekiel, first in chapter 17 verses 9, 10, and 24 and again in 19:12. These occurrences lead up to the famous valley of dry bones in 37:11 where God “re-marrows” the dried up bones and clothes them with flesh, blood, and sinews again. It is God who dries the land (and the bones) and God who waters it again, as it is likewise the same God who opens and closes the wombs of the Philistines in the book of Genesis (20:18).
Next, we have the interesting word מְדָ֣רְהֹ֔ון medarhon — dwellings from the verb דּוּר dur — encircle, habitate. A related vocalization of this root is דּוֹר dor — generation, age, or revolution of time vis-à-vie the book of Ecclesiastes:
דּוֹר הֹלֵךְ וְדוֹר בָּא וְהָאָרֶץ לְעוֹלָם עֹמָדֶת׃
A generation goes and a generation comes but the land remains indefinitely. — Eccl. 1:4
Likewise, in Arabic we have the following semantic range:
The use of this word to communicate the action of “dwelling” is interesting in the sense that it connotes movement, which seems to clash with the static connotation of dwelling. This appears, notably, less definite than roots like י-ש-ב which have more permanent connotations. In reality, as we have seen from the example of אֲנָשׁ֙, all human beings (and by extension their settlements) come and go like the generations that define them.
Next, there is the verb שָׁאַל ša’al — to ask for/ inquire. This verb is famous for its use as the name of King Saul, which in Hebrew is שָׁאוּל ša’ul — asked for. Interestingly, this name is consonantally identical for the word grave, which is שְׁאוֹל še’ol. The Israelites asking for a king led to their downfall and the death of their requested kingdom, just as Samuel the prophet warned them in 1 Samuel 8.
Lastly, we have the highly important word בִּשְׂרָ֖א bisra — the flesh which is common in Hebrew and Arabic as well. The interest for me is that this root, ב-ש-ר (Hebrew/Aramaic) and ب- ش- ر (Arabic), connotes both contact (and therefore the flesh) and delivering “good news” or “victorious” news. You have to deliver this news “in the flesh” via a messenger, hence the apostle (emissary) who is sent (ἀποστέλλειν apostellein) to the recipient of the glad tidings (εὐαγγέλιον evangelion). Interestingly, the word εὐαγγέλιον originally connoted contact with the recipient of the message (ἀγγελία angelia) because it originally refered to the money that the recipient would use to tip the messenger for their service. If you know Latin, you could probably already see a parallel with my examples. You have the word missio (mission) from the verb mittere (to send). The direct link to ἀπόστολος is emissarius (messenger, or one sent on a mission). Even in the word “message” we have a link to this root via French. In the Roman Catholic Church, the popular name for the liturgy (the mass) was named after its dismissal (sending out):
Ite, missa est — go, it has been sent.
The butchering of this phrase as “go, the mass has ended” is bewildering to me. What has been sent? Very clearly, the faithful parishioners to go spread the εὐαγγέλιον… ie to meet and care for the poor, naked, and hungry in the flesh. From the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
This is where Latin really shines, and there are a ton of examples in our own English language. As discussed above, we have the verb mittere and from this verb we have words like mission, missile, emissary, messenger, the Catholic “mass”, missing (as in something sent away) etc. What is really interesting, however, is that like בשר it could also be related to physicality. There is some speculation that the verb mittere could be distantly related to the Proto-Indo-European word for “mother” and by extension, another Latin word “materia” — the physical makeup. After all, the mother is the source of flesh and sends her offspring out into the world via the birth canal. From materia we have the English words material and matter, as well as the scientific word “mass”. This relationship between a message as well as “matter” is analagous to the Hebrew word דָּבָר dabar and the Aramaic מִלְתָּא milta which can both refer to “word” or “matter/ thing”.
LXX
’Aπεκρίθησαν οἱ Χαλδαῖοι ἐνώπιον τοῦ βασιλέως καὶ λέγουσιν οὐκ ἔστιν ἄνθρωπος ἐπὶ τῆς ξηρᾶς ὅστις τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦ βασιλέως δυνήσεται γνωρίσαι καθότι πᾶς βασιλεὺς μέγας καὶ ἄρχων ῥῆμα τοιοῦτο οὐκ ἐπερωτᾷ ἐπαοιδόν μάγον καὶ Χαλδαῖον. ‘Óτι ὁ λόγος ὃν ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐπερωτᾷ βαρύς καὶ ἕτερος οὐκ ἔστιν ὃς ἀναγγελεῖ αὐτὸν ἐνώπιον τοῦ βασιλέως ἀλλ᾽ ἢ θεοί ὧν οὐκ ἔστιν ἡ κατοικία μετὰ πάσης σαρκός.
The Chaldeans answered before the King and they said. “There is not a man upon the dry ground who is able to make known the utterance of the King, for no great king or ruler has ever asked such a thing of any medium, magician, or Chaldean. And the thing that the king asks is difficult, and there is not another one who can reveal it before the king except the gods, of whom is not the dwelling with all flesh.
Continuing my discussion of ב-ש-ר, I would like to draw attention to the use of the verb ἀναγγέλλω anangellō — to announce which is used to render the Aramaic verb חָוָה ḥawah — to reveal/ show. In the New Testament, ἀναγγέλλω is routinely tied to the εὐαγγέλιον, which makes sense considering that both are from the same verbal root. This connection is so close that they are, at times, interchangeable which is fascinating considering the link that בשר has that is inherently missing in the word σάρξ sarx — flesh. The Latin Vulgate opts for the interesting word indicet from the verb indicere, which literally means to “speak into” — a fascinating choice, considering the context. We can clearly see where our English verb “to indicate” fits in here. In order to “announce” a message, you have to speak “into” someone else, and therefore meet them face to face. In other words, the message is not merely conveyed abstractly but with an embodied, personal involvement, highlighting the human element in communication.