Hebrew lesson: Barren
Is it true that you're never too old to learn something new? I'll let you know!
Decades ago, I had a job training volunteers to work with new immigrants in English as a Second or Other Language classes. To help the trainees experience what it felt like to navigate the world in a foreign language, I asked them to put themselves in a situation where they would be confronted with an indecipherable language: “Watch a television show on the Spanish language channel, switch the language setting to Chinese at the ATM, or try to learn to play a game or assemble a new product using the instructions in a language you don’t understand.”
Most of the volunteers-in-training appreciated this daunting but enlightening exercise. Except for one.
One year a man came to our training session who couldn’t find a way to do the assignment. He explained that he was fluent in so many languages he couldn’t find a situation that would force him into doing a task in an unknown tongue.
“Really?” I asked, incredulous. “There isn’t a language you can’t decipher?”
There was one, he finally admitted: Hieroglyphics.
I, on the other hand, have the opposite problem. Try as I may (and believe me I have tried!) I have never become fluent in a language other than English.
I had finally accepted this fact, having studied French, Spanish, and Japanese at various times. And then, writing Sarah’s story finally compelled me to try again. Reading only translations made me feel like I was experiencing her story through layers of gauze.
Suddenly, I wanted to learn to read biblical Hebrew.
But given my language-learning deficit, taking on this ancient language with its complex grammatical tenses and confounding system of dots and dashes that indicate not only the vowels but also whether a particular letter should be pronounced one way or another, whether it indicates a pronoun or a question — seemed like way too much for me.
Besides, What would have been a reach for me when I was in my 30s, 40s, or even 50s felt like it would be nearly impossible for me now.
And then I thought:
Relatively speaking, I’ll never be this young again, nor will my brain be this spry.
In the end, it was Sarah who inspired me. After all, she left her homeland, received a new spiritual calling, and had a child in the decades when most of us would be looking for a nice rocking chair on which to settle and reflect on our lives — not start an entirely new chapter!
And so here I am, five weeks into Level One of a 4-level biblical Hebrew class, learning what all those dots and dashes mean!
Once I master biblical Hebrew, I might just try Akkadian, and then who knows, maybe I’ll learn to read Hieroglyphics.
This week’s poem, ‘Bar·ren’
I wrote this week’s poem, “Bar·ren,” several years ago before I began my study of biblical Hebrew. Instead, I used online tools to study the word’s origins in English and Hebrew.
I discovered that the word barren, עקר aqar in Hebrew, shares a root with eqar and ayqar, each of which opened up a web of poetic associations.
This deep dive into a single word gave new resonance to the verse in Genesis that introduces Sarah’s story:
“Sarai was barren, she had no child.”
Listen to the poem:
”Bar·ren,” ©️ Copyright Tzivia Gover, Third House Moon, LLC, all rights reserved.
I’m dreaming with you,
PS: If dreams and writing are your thing, you might also be interested in a new series of mini-workshops I’m offering through my other online publication, This Dream is a Poem.
