The curious noun κραββατος (krabbatos) describes a mat or make-shift mattress, apparently made from twigs and leaves, since it stems from the Macedonian word γραβος (grabos), meaning oak. This same Macedonian word also became the Greek noun γραβιον (grabion), which describes a torch made from a bundle of twigs. Where the Macedonians got this word from isn't clear, but it appears to be not Indo-European, or so say the experts.

Here at Abarim Publications we are of course shamelessly biased, but since everybody is guessing, here's our two cents worth: The Macedonian word is spelled with a single b but the Greek one has a double one. That draws our attention to the Hebrew verb רבב (rabab), which speaks of being much or many, and especially many becoming one (many arrows, many rain drops, many instructions, many branches), which would perfectly describe our bundle or twigs. The leading k can then be explained from the common Hebrew prefix כ (ke), meaning like. In Deuteronomy 32:2, Psalm 72:6 and Micah 5:7 appears the term כרביבים (krabybim), meaning "like showers" (literally: like the many).

Part of the pun would be that the familiar noun ραββι (rabbi), meaning rabbi, derives from this verb רבב (rabab), which suggests that the New Testament's familiar image of the paralyzed man upon his κραββατος (krabbatos) may be considered to represent the common Jewish population that's kept lame upon its debilitating rabbinical tradition (see Deuteronomy 21:22-23 and compare Matthew 23:23 to Matthew 13:32). Also note that the name of the feast of Pesah (Passover), namely פסח (pesah), closely relates to the adjective פסח (piseah), lame or cripple.

But whatever its pedigree, our noun κραββατος (krabbatos) is used 12 times in the New Testament; see full concordance. Another word for bed, and describing a proper bed rather than a bundle of twigs, is κλινη (kline) and its diminutive κλινιδιον (klinidion), literally meaning recliner.

The noun βουνος (bounos) means hill, heap or mound and appears to have originally described a bed or mattress of leaves. Our noun occurs in the New Testament in Luke 3:5 and 23:30 only: the former quotes Isaiah 40:4, and translates the Hebrew word for hill, which is גבעה (gib'a).

Our noun is relatively rare in the Greek classics, was mostly used by a certain breed of poets and appears to have been considered a slang or barbaric word of Cyrenaic pedigree. Why Greek poets needed a slang word for hill or heap isn't clear, but modern linguists have established that our word isn't actually Cyrenaic but rather Doric, which means that our word's imagined Cyrenaic nature may have had more to do with Cyrene than with our word: Cyrene was known for its philosophy of pleasure. And because in ancient lore a "mountain" could also refer to a culture or even more general a gathering or concentration of people (Exodus 15:17, Deuteronomy 1:19, Joshua 11:16, Psalm 48:1, 68:15, Song of Solomon 4:6, and so on), our word βουνος (bounos) may well subliminally refer to an elite of some sort, some obscure specialty or expertise, or even a fetish.

The actual etymological origin of our noun is obscure, but a certain plant named βουνιας (bounias), rapeseed, an oil-rich sort of turnip related to cabbages and mustard, was also known as μουνιας (mounias), which has turned the attention of some to the Basque word muno, hill, which in turn appears to have to do with the Latin word munus, service, hence our English words municipality and immunity, which both depend on concentrations of people. This Latin word is thought to derive from a widely attested Proto-Indo-European root "mey-", to change or exchange.

An identical second PIE root "mey-" means to bind — hence the word miter, the hat of Catholic bishops. This is rather worthy of note because Josephus uses our word βουνιας (bounias) in his description of an element of the crown of the high priest (a cup which resembled a plant whose root resembled a turnip: Ant.3.7.6). A third identical PIE root "mey-" means little, hence words like micron. And a fourth identical root "mey-" means to strengthen or build. All this is very interesting, of course, but in Hebrew the verb בנה (bana) means to build and noun בן (ben) means son or male little one. That suggest that the whole dangling bunch of PIE roots "mey-" may actually be Semitic, and introduced into European languages from trading with the Phoenicians: see our article on the many Hebrew roots of Greek.

The noun σακκος (sakkos) means sackcloth, the item of rough fabric that people would wear while in mourning. It is used 4 times in the New Testament; see full concordance.

From this Greek word indeed comes our English word sack, but it's actually Semitic. Its Hebrew equivalent is שק (saq), sackcloth, a word of puzzling pedigree but possibly of Egyptian extraction. In the patriarchal era, Egypt dominated trade in the Levant and the chances are excellent that they invented the sack for bulk goods, made from cheap, rough but sturdy cloth. On the other hand, the sack first appears in the records of Egypt's 19th dynasty (1292 - 1189 BC), while the story of Jacob plays about 500 years earlier.

The שק (saq) is introduced in the Biblical narrative when Joseph is sold into Egypt and his bloody varicolored coat is delivered to his father Jacob, who subsequently tears his own robes and puts sackcloth on his loins (Genesis 37:34). What may have inspired Jacob to do this is not immediately clear, but sackcloth appears to have been mostly made from goat hair (possibly even evolved out of a bundled up goat skin). The Hebrew word for goat, namely שעיר (sa'ir), stems from a root that means to be horrified or greatly afraid (hence also Mount Seir, the haunt of Jacob's brother Esau). Even in Greek, the word for tragedy stems from the word for goat: τραγος (tragos). The adjective ποικιλος (poikilos) means variegated or many-colored and shares its root with πικρος (pikros), bitter, perhaps "because in much wisdom there is much grief, and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain" (Ecclesiastes 1:18).

From Jacob with his loins in sackcloth, the story continues with Jacob's remaining sons, as they take their empty sacks (Genesis 42:25: same word) to Egypt, to have them filled with grain. Egypt abounded in grain, because Joseph had filled the store houses there, having gone from rags to riches, from being an abhorred man of sorrows to effective ruler and savior of the civilized world (compare Isaiah 53:3 with Matthew 26:64).

Spelled strikingly similar to our mystery noun שק (saq) is the verb שקה (shaqa), to give to drink (although pointed somewhat differently by the Masoretes in the middle ages), from which come words for drinking vessels such as a שקת (shoqet) trough (Genesis 24:20), and the word משקה (masqeh), cup-bearer (Genesis 40:2). It appears that the relationship of the two words שקת (shoqet) and שק (shaq) may in some way be explained by the story of the cup-bearer and chief baker (which in turn appears to meditate on the so-called complex mind: the mind that consists of a pas de deux of the scientific ratio and the artistic imagination; see our article on the verb δοκεω, dokeo, meaning to imagine).

Another word of interest is the verb נשק (nashaq), which means to kiss (see κυνεω, kuneo, to kiss), but which originally appears to have expressed a nearing of parties (perhaps physically as well as emotionally or even intellectually and legally). Its Arabic cognate is a verb that means to fasten together or arrange in order. Noun נשק (nesheq) means equipment or outfit. In certain common constructions, the leading "n" drops off: in Genesis 27:26, Isaac says to Jacob (thinking he is Esau): "Please come close and kiss (שקה, sheqah) me, my son" (Matthew 26:48-49).

The noun σαγηνη (sagene) refers to a trawl or seine or large dragnet, a type of fishing net that is much larger and brute-force than a regular fishing net, a δικτυον (diktuon), or a αμφιβληστρον (amphiblestron), a cast-net, literally a "round-thrower".

Where cast-nets are thrown from land down upon the water, and regular fishing nets are used to target schools of fish in open water, dragnets are dragged between multiple ships, or in shallow water by multiple fishermen, so that everything between bottom and surface and preferably both shores gets swept up with very little chance of escape. A common way to use such a dragnet is to deploy it full-length and then bring the far ends together so as to form an enclosed corral, which is gradually tightened and made smaller until finally all the animals are caught in a tiny circle of the net. Dragnets can be hundreds of meters long, require hundreds of people to handle and are whole-sale evacuators. Our word occurs in the New Testament in Matthew 13:47 only. The Septuagint uses it in Habakkuk 1:15, in a description of the Babylonian exile.

The Latin sagena and the English "seine" (not related to the name of the famous French river) derive from our noun σαγηνη (sagene), and although it's formally unclear where it itself comes from, the average Greek speaker would probably have understood it to be akin the noun σαγη (sage), pack, baggage, from the verb σαττω (satto), to pack or compress. Still, although the formation of our word was indeed probably informed by noun σαγη (sage), its ultimate seed appears to have been Semitic. And that draws the attention of us here at Abarim Publications first to the noun שק (saq), sack or sack cloth, which we mention above, but more so to the verb סוג (sug I), meaning to move away or drive back, its noun סיג (sig), a move away or anything removed (like dross from molten metal), and its twin verb סוג (sug II), to fence about, to create a fence around some target multitude (a heap of wheat, grapevines, cattle).

In Aramaic, verb סוג (sug) is considered a single verb that means to cut off, separate or fence in. Noun סוג (sug) describes a large chest or basket with internal partitions. Noun סגי (sege) means multitude or greatness of number, or the spreading out of a great many things (like lights, joys, money). Closely related is the name סגיא (sagya), Sagia, of a famous canal in Babylon where there was a Rabbinical school (see Kiddushin 33a, which tells of the story of Abaye who "circumnavigated" the area, and which concerns respect for one's elders).

The curious verb σαιγω (saigo) means to wag: to move one's tail from side to side in a show of enthusiasm, peace and submission (1 Thessalonians 3:3 only). In the classics, this verb originally specifically applied to dogs, and the occasional horse, but then became applied to human persons, who, lacking a tail, still found ways to grovel, to show enthusiasm, peace and submission. When our verb applies to humans, it's to be interpreted as to court, greet enthusiastically but politely humble or humbly polite: grovelingly. And of course humans beings humans, it may also describe a scammer's feigning of such submission and assume the meaning of beguile, deceive, hoodwink, lull into a false sense of safety.

Our verb is curious for two reasons. Firstly, in the antique world, dogs were looked down upon and reviled (see κυων, kuon, dog) and acting like a dog, for whatever reason and in whatever way, equated a significant step down in social sophistication. Beside showing enthusiasm, peace and submission, resorting to groveling like a dog also demonstrated that one did not otherwise know how to behave like a mature human being. In other words: when Helen exclaimed that she was a dog (Il.6.344 and 6.356), she not only exclaimed that she was a "contriver of mischief" but also that she had no idea how else to behave or even to repair the damage she had done or make things better for everybody else.

People wonder why Jews are (in general and on average) so very successful in the world, and erroneously confuse Judaism with a mere religion whose sole purpose is to induce a mystical experience. Instead, Judaism is the study of standards in which everybody can ultimately find themselves. Said otherwise, Judaism is the study of "natural law", where the term "natural law" does not primarily refer to the laws of physics but rather the laws of human consciousness. Judaism studies the behavior of human minds, if these minds were free to do what they wished whilst at the same time guarantee the freedom of the next guy, so that a free mind is a mind that aspires to the freedom of the fellow man (and yes, human minds and quantum particles are two iterations of the same basic item, so that human behavior and physics go hand in hand: hence all those Nobel Prizes for Jews, and see our article on נחר, nahar, to flow or shine).

People wonder why their economies are so bad and think wealth has to do with the presence of money. This is incorrect (tells us the story of the unfortunate king Midas). Instead, wealth comes from the velocity of money. A single ten-dollar bill creates no wealth when it sits idly in someone's pocket, whereas the very same ten-dollar bill can cause a day of booming business when this solitary bill passes a hundred pairs of hands a hundred times that day. The difference between the bill-in-pocket situation and the booming-business situation is that in the first situation the owner of the bill doesn't trust the next guy, whereas in the latter, everybody trusts the next guy. They trust each other because they know each other's heart of hearts. They know each other's priorities, protocols and procedures. They speak each other's language, share each other's hopes and abhor the same unspeakables. And they understand that the universe stores all data (Matthew 12:36, Ecclesiastes 12:14, Romans 2:16), and that a Divine Bookkeeper keeps tabs on everybody, and blesses the honest and wrecks the dishonest. In short: they can predict each other almost perfectly. That gives security, and security gives wealth.

So how does one generate wealth? Well, either by inviting Jews into one's world and allowing them to take the helm. And if there are no Jews available (say, they got killed), then study Hebrew and the Jewish Bible, and learn to be as much alike a Jew as one can. When one was not born a Jew, and raised from birth in a Jewish home, where the study of natural social law was more primary than even learning language (where children are taught manners before they can speak), then one can never become a Jew, or even know what it is like to be one. All one can aspire to is to become properly domesticated: a smart horse, a faithful donkey, a good dog — and recall that Joshua's dearest friend was called Dog, that the Hebrew word for dog looks like a term that means "all heart": כל לב (kal leb), and that humanity's transition into modernity could only begin when dogs learned to do all the actual shepherding.

Saints, it should be noted, are saints because they are liberated from any bond, even that of time, which is why they influence our present world from their position in the future New Jerusalem. And if you wonder why those extra-temporal saints don't simply show up and rid our present world of unethical companies, tyrannical governments, robber barons, perverted fashions and outrageous superstitions and such, then watch any of the Jurassic Park movies (or How To Train Your Dragon, which deals with precisely the same themes). Whether those Guides dress in tight white tank-tops and look like Scarlett Johansson cannot be guaranteed. What is clear is that the otherwise inexplicable level of sophistication humanity has reached (inexplicable if we indeed started among the ferns with nothing but luck and mutations to sort us) suggests very strongly that some families alive on earth today, will actually make it out of our T-rex infested reality, so as to ultimately produce those Guides who indeed turn to our times (in ways that are unimaginable to us today) to nudge us in the right direction toward them (Hebrews 13:2, John 10:27).

The second reason why our verb σαιγω (saigo) is curious is that we have no idea where it came from, or what it was designed to express. There are very few words in Greek that start with σαι- (sai-). On occasion, the term σαισ (sais) occurs in the classics as alternative to the more common σος (sos), from συ (su), meaning "you" singular, so that our verb conceivable evolved out of a genitive: thine, "of yours", as in: I am yours truly, which is a common expression in most European languages, as well as Hebrew: אני עבדך (ani avdecha), means "I am your servant" (as proper counterpart of "you are my lord").

There are virtually no words in Greek that start with σον- (son-) or σων- (son-), but there are a ton that start with συν- (sun-), as this a very common prefix meaning with, together with, jointly.

In the classics, there are a few compound words that use our verb σαιγω (saigo), but which are so rare that they appear to be invented on the spot and for the occasion by the author:

• Combined with δωρον (doron), offering of gift: σαινι-δωρος (saini-doros), to coax something out of an implied superior by bearing them gifts or, say, dead pheasants;
• Together with λεγω (logos), to speak or discourse: σαινο-λογος (saino-logos), doing the same as the previous but now with sweet talking rather than gifts;
• The term σαιν-ουρις (sain-ouris), which is a comedic insult open to the interpretation of the receiver (or the audience), as it either refers to the similar and equally rare noun σαινουρος (sainouros), meaning "a wagging of the tail" (or a groveling show of enthusiasm, peace and submission), or means "dog-drizzle" (from ουρον, ouron, urine, drizzle, from ουρανος, ouranos, sky, where drizzle comes from).

Since the origin of our word σαιγω (saigo) is a mystery, it may very well be one of many Greek words that exist with and without a leading sigma (see a small list of such words presented in our article on σειρα, seira, cord). That would put our verb σαιγω (saigo) in proximity to the ubiquitous verb αγω (ago), meaning to lead or bring along.

An added sigma may also correspond to the Hebrew prefix ש (sh), which is short for אשר ('asher), meaning "which" in the sense of: "that which such-and-such". And that means that at the heart of our verb σαιγω (saigo) may very well sit the Hebrew verb עגל ('agal), to go in circles (see the name Eglon), or similarly עוג ('ug), to encircle (see the name Og), or even אגג ('agag), to be violent (see the name Agag) and of course גג (gog), ceiling (see the names Gog and Magog).

Allowing that in Greek, a double "gg" is pronounced as "ng" (this happens, for instance in the familiar word αγγελος, aggelos, angel), and that the other way around may also turn an imported "n" into a Greek "g", our verb σαιγω (saigo) may also relate to the important verb-cluster ענה ('ana): Verb ענה ('ana I) means to answer, respond or correspond. Verb ענה ('ana II) means to be busy or occupied with. Verb ענה ('ana III) means to afflict, oppress or humble. And verb ענה ('ana IV) means to sing (it's not a far stretch to consider the howling of a dog to be their version of singing). The name Bethany probably has to do with this verb-cluster.