Abarim Publications' online Biblical Greek Dictionary
κυβερναω
A small cluster of very common Greek words have made it into everlasting linguistic glory by forming the source of our English words "government" and "cybernetics". But to the dismay of purists, it's no longer clear where these words ultimately derive from: the trail runs cold at the Greek verb κυβερναω (kubernao), meaning to steer, and particularly to act as the helmsman of a ship — and the word ναυς (naus), meaning ship, is closely related to the word ναος (naos), meaning temple, as we discuss in our article on the latter. The provenance of our verb κυβερναω (kubernao), to steer, is formally obscure, but, as one might imagine, here at Abarim Publications we have something to say about that.
Our guess is that our verb represents the confluence of many tributaries, but most obviously relates to a group of words that have to do with bending or curving, and particularly with bending the head downward and thus with directing the head to where it would not naturally have gone. Ultimately, we suspect that our verb κυβερναω (kubernao) may have originated in the Hebrew verb כפף (kapap), meaning to bend or curve (hence the names Cephas and Caiaphas).
The noun κυβηνα (kubena), describes an old lady, and particularly a stooped old lady, as the adjective κυβηβος (kubebos) and adverb κυβδα (kubda) mean stooped. Both appear to derive from the verb κυπτω (kupto) or even κυψω (kupso), to stoop or bend forward (see further below), as used in the Septuagint's version of Psalm 10:10 but also frequently in Homer's Iliad.
Also in the Iliad, as well as some other texts, occurs the verb κυβισταω (kubistao), meaning to tumble head first (obviously into a direction where this head would not naturally have gone), which could only exist by virtue of an unrecorded, and thus assumed, noun κυβη (kube), meaning head. Perhaps a variant spelling of κυβη (kube), or perhaps an entirely different word: the noun κυμβη (kumbe) also means head, and from this latter verb (or an identical one that means hollow thing), derives the word κυμβαλον (kumbalon), cymbal, which we discuss all the way below.
Where this noun κυβη (kube), head, might have come from remains a mystery, but it clearly reminds of words like the German Kopf, head, the Sanskrit kupah, hollow, and thus the Latin word cupa, any hollow thing, which in turn leads back to the Greek κυπη (kupe), which describes a kind of ship, probably one with a decisively large hold. Another Greek word for hollow (anything from natural harbors to ships' holds) is κοιλος (koilos), from which comes κοιλια (koilia), meaning belly or womb.
This still does not wholly explain our word κυβη (kube), head, but the letter κ (k) does have a tendency to attach itself to roots in a way that reminds of the familiar prefix εκ (ek), out of. This prefix normally becomes ex when fixed to a vowel, but in some cases it appears to morph into a hard k, while dropping the leading e. Take for instance the verb καυχαομαι (kauchaomai), to loudly declare, which comes from the noun αυχην (auchen), neck or throat. That means that our noun κυβη (kube) may very well have something to do with the Proto-Indo-European root "uper-", from which also comes the English "over", the German über and the Greek υπερ (huper). That would make κυβη (kube), an ex-uber, or out-of-top. Not bad.
Noun קוף (qop) means round-head, and כוף (kop), literally means a "round one", and describes a round basket, whose contents are revealed when its top comes off.
And of course, there's the mysterious sort of wood called גפר (goper), whose name occurs only once in recorded Scriptures (namely in Genesis 6:14), but which may have had something to do with what the Greeks called κυπαρισσος (kuparissos), the cypress tree, which in turn may have given its name to the island of Cyprus, from which in turn comes our word for copper.
Copper marks the point in humanity's development where our ancestors transcended the manipulation of nature as found, and began to use technology to manipulate nature into yielding what it wouldn't yield on its own. And that links copper to our verb.
As we discuss in our article on the verb צרף (sarap), meaning to perform metallurgy (hence also the name Zarephath), the art of metallurgy became synonymous with the art of the pursuit of reason and wisdom. As modern linguists have determined, logic and systematic or categorical thought is not possible without words (read our article on ονομα, onoma, meaning name or noun) and the willful making of all aspects of language is really the same thing as the willful making of anything metal. The Greek verb μεταλλαω (metalleo) means to search carefully or inquire diligently. The derived noun μεταλλον (metallon) denotes a mine or quarry (the place where men search for nature's hidden treasures). This Greek noun became the Latin word metallum, and denoted both a mine or what came out of a mine, and that is how English received its word "metal". The word "metal" literally means "something diligently searched for" and should be synonymous with the word "word".
In Hebrew the word for copper is נחש (nahash), which is identical to a verb that means to divine or soothsay, which is identical to the Bible's common word for snake. And so, the technological revolution that would bring humanity so much blessing, was also mankind's greatest curse, as the snake hid in the tree and seduced Eve. The snake would bruise man's heel (עקב, 'aqeb, hence the name Jacob), but man would bruise the snake's head (ראש, ro'sh).
What the ultimate head of the great snake of technology might turn out to be is not wholly clear just yet, but the chances are excellent that it will have something to do with the Internet, or rather the Internet of Things or the Metaverse. This Internet of Things or Metaverse will surely be mankind's greatest blessing, on the proviso that it in turn is captained or governed by the Word of God, like a rider who controls his beast, like a crown of light upon a head of hair. (And this can, of course, also go fantastically wrong: see for a brief meditation of this our article on Apollyon.)
This Word of God has of course nothing to do with any kind of religion or even any kind of human organization (all willful human organization is part of the snake) but rather with the freedom of a small group of people who form a kind of spontaneous and self-organizing Internet of Living Minds by utilizing freely available natural principles. Like rain in clouds, if you will.
Our verb κυβερναω (kubernao) means to steer, or rather to direct the head, or even more precise: to be above the head of a creature and direct that creature by outranking the head of it. This verb isn't used in the New Testament, although the name Καπερναουμ (Capernaum) may have been intended as a playful reference to it. Anyway, the following Biblical words derive from our verb or relate to it:
- The noun κυβεια (kubeia), dice-tossing (Ephesians 4:14 only). This word comes from the noun κυβος (kubos), die, from which comes our English word "cube". How this word was formed isn't immediately clear but later cube-shaped objects appear to have been named after the die, which itself originated in pre-history, most likely as an instrument used in divination. Here at Abarim Publications every guess counts, so perhaps the "heads" of a cube were its sides, or its denominations (the numbers on the sides). More likely, however, the die was called a "head" because it had the final say when a discussion, or other means to come to a decision, had met a stalemate. This custom (albeit with lots instead of with dice) was still in use in the first century, as it was deployed to choose Matthias as successor of Judas Iscariot (Acts 1:26). There is of course nothing magic about a die, except that it's a natural random number generator, and the generation of randomness is a very big deal in modern computing (because freedom is the most fundamental principle of reality, and devilishly hard to synthesize; see Galatians 5:1). As with anything holy, petty performers got hold of the die and turned the throwing of dice into a base game of chance, which is also how crystal ball reading works, and, sadly, also directs the attitude of many Evangelicals toward prayer.
- The noun κυβερνησις (kubernesis), which appears to denote one of the many administrative functions of a properly functioning church, and a minor one at that. It's mentioned only once (1 Corinthians 12:28 only), in vague plural, between "redirections" and "translations". It derives from the above discussed verb κυβερναω (kubernao), and literally means steerage or pilotage in a maritime sense. In the classics this word is used very rarely and only metaphorically to refer to a city's political government. In his Republic (6.488), Plato uses this word to paint the picture of a handsomely tall and strong shipmaster, who is slightly deaf and somewhat blind and endowed with a matching sense of navigation. Hence this shipmaster's sailors all clamber over each other, reaching for the helm, screaming that it's their turn to steer, while remaining silent about where they might have learned how to do that. Worse, Plato continues, they even claim that steerage is an art more than a science, and while going nowhere but to calamity, they plunder the provisions and drink and eat to the master's ruin. This also, sadly, reminds of many an Evangelical church.
- The noun κυβερνητης (kubernetes), meaning shipmaster in the sense of helmsman or chief navigational officer (Acts 27:11 and Revelation 18:17 only).
κυπτω
The verb κυπτω (kupto), also spelled κυψω (kupso), means to bow the head or stoop down. Its etymology is formally unknown but, as said above, here at Abarim Publications we're pretty sure it has to do with the Semitic verb כפף (kapap), to bend or curve (and see our article on the many Hebrew roots of the Greek language).
Not used in the New Testament, the noun κυψελη (kupsele), refers to any hollow vessel: a chest or box, a beehive, the hollow of an ear and even a figurative "box" full of thoughts. Note that in Timaeus and several other places, Plato considered the brain as the seat of the λογιστικος (logistikos), or logical rationality, and his student Aristotle famously insisted that rationality would yield the answers to anything. The authors of the Bible agreed that a rational approach to life was superior over blindly following some religion or some leader, but disagreed that mere rationality was the utmost of what a mind could do. Instead, they envisioned what in the 20th century would become known as the limits of reason, calculability and determinacy (hence big names like Gödel, Russel and Turing), and declared that "something" exceeded even rationality. They called this super-rationality the "love" of Christ (Ephesians 3:19) and the "peace" of God (Philippians 4:7).
This, of course, explains why the Logos would die on Golgotha. It also explains why Jesus (even before his death), shot right back at Plato by declaring his way the broad (πλατυς, platus) road to destruction (Matthew 7:13). Plato and Aristotle and pretty much every philosopher since David Hume are cursed with an irrational faith in rationality. A rational understanding of rationality contains the maxim that rationality is limited and therefore subservient to that which exceeds it. Rationality is the shepherd dog at best, whereas the "love" of Christ is the shepherd.
Our verb κυπτω (kupto) is used a mere three times in the New Testament, namely in Mark 1:7, John 8:6 and 8:8 only, but from it come the following:
- Together with the preposition ανα (ana), meaning on, upon or again: the verb ανακυπτω (anakupto), meaning to straighten up again after stooping. In the classics, this verb could describe any sort of rising from a stooped position, from horses throwing their heads back to people rising up from water. Figuratively, our word could describe someone rising from difficulties or oppressive situations. This verb is used 4 times; see full concordance.
- Together with the preposition παρα (para), meaning near or nearby: the verb παρακυπτω (parakupto), literally meaning to stoop near or next to, but in practice mostly used figuratively to describe a leaning in on some topic, to have a closer look at something (very much as in Exodus 3:3: "So Moses said, 'I must turn aside now and see this marvelous sight, why the bush is not burned up.'"). That means that the traditional idea of Mary Magdalene and Peter willfully and physically stooping down to look into Jesus' tomb is not correct. Instead, they looked into the tomb the way one looks into a problem or a mystery. Or rather more precise: the way one peeps sideways at something that suddenly catches one's eye, and for which one wasn't at all looking. The use of this specific verb implies that Mary, Peter and even the angels mentioned in 1 Peter 1:12 were not so much investigating an acknowledged and targeted mystery but rather had their fully allocated attentions averted to a corner of reality they had never surmised could have existed. This magnificent verb is used 5 times; see full concordance.
- Together with the preposition συν (sun), meaning together or with: the verb συγκυπτω (sugkupto), meaning to stoop together, either physically in the sense of being totally and all-together bent over, or in the figurative and investigative sense of "putting one's heads together". This verb is used in Luke 13:11 only.
κυμβαλον
The noun κυμβαλον (kumbalon) is where our English word cymbal comes from, which is why people think that it means cymbal. It doesn't — or not without a hefty footnote. Our noun occurs in the New Testament in 1 Corinthians 13:1 only, in Paul's famous observation that if he had no love, he would be like a whooping kumbalon.
Our noun κυμβαλον (kumbalon) stems from the common noun κυμβη (kumbe), and there two of those. One noun κυμβη (kumbe) means head. This one is a variant of the noun κυβη (kube), also meaning head, which we discuss at length above. From these words come the verb κυβισταω (kubistao), to tumble head-first, and the adjective κυμβαχος (kumbachos), head-first tumbling. This latter word appears in the Iliad as a substantive that describes a person named Mydon as he evacuated his chariot after Antilochos had driven his sword through his temple: headlong into the dust. It also appears in a description of the topmost rim or plate of a soldier's helmet (Il.15.536).
The other noun κυμβη (kumbe) describes any kind of hollow vessel: a drinking cup or a bowl (a.k.a. κυμβιον, kumbion), or even a whole boat, particularly a kind of skiff that the Phoenicians had invented. The Latin authors had adapted the Greek word for this Phoenician skiff as the Latin noun cymba, which they used to refer to any boat. Notably, in his Aeneid, Virgil placed Charon in such a cymba, as he ferried weightless souls across the Styx to the afterlife (A.6.303).
The drinking vessel named after this Phoenician skiff was (at least initially) used not so much in everyday consumption but rather in commemorative or votive drinking feasts conducted by the wealthy. Archeologists have unearthed some such vessels that were uncomfortably canoe-shaped, and clearly decorative rather than practical. The British Museum has a piece (number 1836,0224.262), which is proposed to be a 4th century baby feeder, but which has a rather impractical boat-shaped guttus, and is embossed with the inscription ΓΡΟΠΙΝΕ ΜΗ ΚΑΤΘΗΣ, meaning "drink, don't lay me down". Why a baby would need to be instructed (or fed) in such a manner remains unexplained. It rather brings to mind what Jesus said: "Be on guard, so that your hearts will not be weighted down with dissipation and drunkenness..." (Luke 21:34).
Clearly in the same vein, a popular Latin proverb warned: non est ingenii cymba gravanda tui, or: "your boat of genius is not to be weighted down", which evidently meant something like: don't weigh in where you have no expertise. From this word ingenium comes our word "engineer", and for the profundity of this see Exodus 31:3-6: the ingenia build the temple; the priests just work there.
Curiously fitting, our word was also used to denote a wallet, and even a kind of bird (mentioned only twice in extant literature, all we know about this bird is that it flew and that there were hunters who specialized in catching it).
As noted above, the much more common word for ship is ναυς (naus), from the verb ναιω (naio), to overflow, from which also comes the noun ναος (naos), temple, which in tribal societies doubled as royal palace and central bank. A more common word for the hold of a merchant ship was κοιλος (koilos), whence the noun κοιλια (koilia), belly, where a person stores their excess fat, where their emotions (counterpart of head-bound rationality; see our discussion of κυπτω, kupto, above) are seated and their babies come from. That noun κοιλος (koilos) also denoted anything hollow, from a natural harbor to a valley between mountains.
Here at Abarim Publications we're not entirely convinced that these two nouns κυμβη (kumbe) are really two different ones. The -αλον (-alon) part of our word κυμβαλον (kumbalon) is fairly common in Greek and functions as a sort of instrumental: thing to do such-and-such with, the such-and-such being whatever activity (i.e. verb) the noun κυμβη (kumbe) resulted from. What that activity might have been is no longer clear. Our noun itself appears to not be native to Greek, although it resembles the Sanskrit noun kumbha, pitcher or jar, and the Celtic kumba, valley.
Still, the explicit link to the Phoenicians, who spoke a Semitic language closely related to Hebrew, readily brings to mind the ubiquitous verb קום (qum), which means to rise, stand or stand up, which would work perfectly well as the source for words having to do with heads and the top plates of helmets, and also with a ship with, presumably, a high mast. Figurative, our verb קום (qum) could describe a bringing into high spirits or joy or glory, which would match the drinking vessels, and again the wealth-bringing trading ships.
The -ον "-on" part of our Greek noun closely resembles the common ון- (-on) suffix of Hebrew, which does something similar as the Greek suffix -αλον (-alon), namely make a discrete object from an abstract idea or continuum or activity. The part in between, -βαλ- (-bal-) could possibly pass for something to do with בעל (ba'al), meaning to be the master. These are all wild guesses, of course, but perhaps our word is somewhat comparable to our English word "lord", which stems from the phrase hlafweard, which is 'loaf' + 'ward(en)' and literally means "the supply guy".
Still, the core idea behind all the words on this page is that one single head — no matter how brilliant — can comprehend the whole of reality and be anything close to godly (or weightless). This idea is part of the Bible's general assertion that it is not good for a man to be alone, which runs from Adam (Genesis 2:18) to Goliath, the proverbial solitary Hercules who taunts YHWH Sabaoth (or "the Lord of Hosts") and is killed shortly thereafter by David the barely armed shepherd boy (1 Samuel 17:45). Through the prophet Zechariah, that same YHWH Sabaoth says, "Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit", and pours that Spirit out in vast abundance over all flesh (Joel 2:28; see our article on περιστερα, peristera, dove). The Hebrew word for flesh, namely בשר (basar), derives from the verb בשר (basar), meaning to bring glad tidings, and such flesh inspired by that Spirit results in the great cloud of witnesses that Paul speaks of (Hebrews 12:1), which is the same cloud upon which Jesus will return (Daniel 7:13, Matthew 24:30, Mark 13:26, Acts 1:11, 1 Thessalonians 4:17, Revelation 1:7) — because no, Jesus is not going to appear on clouds of water vapor suspending in earth's physical atmosphere, as some commentators curiously propose (also see our article on νεφελη, nephele, cloud).
Jesus says: "Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me ..." (Matthew 11:28) — and while getting a yoke placed on one's shoulders is usually a sign that one is in for some heavy slave labor, Jesus' "yoke" is not a yoke of slavery but a yoke of freedom: ελευθερια (eleutheria), or freedom-by-law. Jesus' yoke is a "yoke" of teamwork, and that same yoke is what makes language work: there is only freedom-of-speech when everybody first submits to the "yoke" of that language's rules. Without that yoke, speech would be just noise and nobody would understand anybody else. Likewise, there can only be freedom of travel when everybody first submits to the "yoke" of common traffic rules. Without that yoke, everybody would run into everybody else, all traffic would gridlock and the whole city would come to a stop.
Paul wrote that "by grace you have been saved" (Ephesians 2:8), which is an awful translation (because it depicts God as some thirteen-in-a-dozen dictator who haughtily dispenses mercy to his supporters). The word Paul uses is χαρις (charis), which means collective joy or social felicity (think "choir"), from the verb χαιρω (chairo), to rejoice. So what Paul is actually saying is: "by collective joy you have been saved", which not necessarily means that the joy is doing the saving but rather that the joy is an effect of it.
Popular religion likes to imagine that Jesus is our "personal Lord and Savior", but that is pagan nonsense: damnation is personal, but salvation is collective. Salvation comes from the Word, and the Word is the foundational element of language, and language is always entirely collective: there is literally nothing personal about the Word or his salvation (Matthew 18:20). Hence Paul writes: "be diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit [...] one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all" (Ephesians 4:3-6).
The Buddhist monk Kakuin Ekaku famously asked "what is the sound of one hand clapping?", and while many consider this to be about one hand doing something, it's rather about one hand doing very little. Clapping requires two hands that are synchronously united (or yoked) in the shared pursuit of some effect. Complex reality depends on reciprocity, and exists as the arch between mutually forming and shaping parties. One man can know, but he cannot converse. He can be giddy, but he can't have a party. He can own, but he cannot trade.
On man can like but he cannot love, because love requires at least one other person to receive and return the love (perhaps contrary to popular belief, one cannot love oneself). Likewise, there's no such thing as a one-man choir, or a one-man language, or a one-man city. And since the New Jerusalem is a city, and not a park or a solitary mountain top, salvation is a conversation — or more precise, an economy of free trade that is not based on deception, coercion and a scarcity of resources but rather on transparency and the desire to provide the absolute best for everybody.
Our noun κυμβαλον (kumbalon) is literally a spirit-lifter-upper, a merrymaker, which came to be applied to anything metal that people would clang and bang together as an expression of joy (Proverbs 27:17 says "iron sharpens iron", which is about gladness among friends and not about sharpening knives, which, as everybody knows, was done on a whetstone). The first of these merrymakers were probably metal drinking cups or bowls and plates, which over time evolved into specially designed musical instruments. But these items were known only by plural (or dual) terms, never in the singular (in Latin this is called a plurale tantum; English has a lot of those: scissors, trousers, thanks, outskirts, and so on). The Hebrew word usually translated as (a set of) cymbals is צלצלים (silsalim), which is the plural of an imaginary singular word צלצל (silsal), which actually exists in singular but then means a whirring or buzzing, from the verb צלל (salal) to whirr or buzz. The identical noun צלצל (silsal) describes a fish-spear or harpoon and the closely similar noun צלצל (selasal) denotes a whirring locust, which was likewise a symbol of multitudinousness but hardly a symbol of joy. An identical verb (which may actually simply be the same one) has to do with darkness and dread (צל, sel, means shadow), which suggests that our musical instruments may actually have begun their career as noise-makers that repelled evil and darkness, and only later began to be seen as noise-makers who brought about joy and light.
But the bottom line of all this is that Paul uses our noun κυμβαλον (kumbalon) in a provocative singular form. Everybody in his original audience would have realized that the sound of one "clanging" cymbal is the same as that of one "clapping" hand, or one "speaker" of some personal, private language — having the same practical use as one single knower of secrets, one single possessor of treasure, or one scissor cutting, one trouser donned or one outskirt doing whatever outskirts do.
And yes, by Paul's time, the word κυμβαλον (kumbalon) had come to denote any set of hollow or concave brass noisemakers that people whacked together so as to make a joyful noise, and yes, in the same verse he refers to resounding brass. But the verb that he associates with our noun κυμβαλον (kumbalon) is αλαλαζω (alalazo), which almost invariably refers to noise made with human voices.
In Greek theatre, the noun αλαζω (alazo) described a comedic archetype, namely of the vagrant who wanders onto the scene exclaiming testimonies to his own greatness. This boasting merrymaker is soon unmasked of course, and not rarely discovered to be a drunk idiot, whose delusional cheers come from a bottle rather than some actual good news. Paul's point is that the bringers of the gospel of Christ never show up by themselves but are part of a culture of transparency and the free exchange of information. Such bringers of peace also have real data to share — not merely the promise of joyful things that the audience is urged to share in pending proof, but rather the sort of factual, sober and peer-reviewed material that actually and seriously makes the blind see and the lame walk (Matthew 11:4-5, also see John 14:12 and 1 Corinthians 2:4).