The verb τριβω (tribo) means to rub, but that mostly in a rather rough way. It stems from a huge Proto-Indo-European root "treh-", to rub or pierce, that also yields the words τραυμα (trauma), trauma (see below), τραγωδια (tragodia), tragedy, and via Latin words like tribulation and contrition.

Notably, however, this root may also have yielded the names Troas and Troy — spelled Τροια (Troia), from the name Τρως (Tros) from the noun τρωσις (trosis), a wounding, from the verb τρωω (tro'o) or τρωσω (troso), to wound — whose siege as described by Homer also served as a lasting commentary on competing languages and their scripts (murderous signs: Il.6.169), around the time of the Bronze Age Collapse (12th century BC), and became to the Greeks what the works of Moses became to the Hebrews. The Iliad and the Exodus play around the same time, namely the 13th century BC, and were written down around the same time, namely the 7th-6th century BC. They describe the same event, namely the rise of the alphabet relative to the Bronze Age Collapse (and see our article on the name YHWH, which may actually be the name of the alphabet, the creator of the modern world).

The variation of the words that we discuss on this present page seems to reveal some wobbly relationship between their single core origin and its many applications in the Greek language. This leads some experts to suspect that their seminal core may not even be Indo-European, or that their formation was helped along by their proximity to certain enticing terms in some other language. As we discuss in our article on the Many Hebrew Roots of Greek, in the period leading up to the classical period, the Greeks-to-be had considerable exposure to the Phoenicians, their language and their Hebrew alphabet. This miracle of the Hebrew alphabet was adapted into the Greek one (and later the Latin one), and that sparked the celebrated classical age with its theatre, philosophy and democracy and all that. Neither the Greek enlightenment nor the Roman Republic would have happened without robust communication, and that wouldn't have happened without wide-spread literacy, and that didn't happen without the alphabet.

Knowing this, our attentions are drawn to the Hebrew verb תור (tur), meaning to seek out or select (Numbers 10:33, Ecclesiastes 2:3), to spy out, survey or explore (Numbers 13:2, Job 39:8), and to go about (Numbers 15:39, 1 Kings 10:15). Related verb יתר (yatar) means to remain or to be a rest (a remainder). That opens the possibility that the city of Troy had once originated as a base camp for Phoenician scouts looking to establish new markets in the area. The derived noun (tor) means dove, which is an equivalent of the word ינה (yonah), which is not only the name Jonah but also Javan, the Hebrew name for the Greeks. This is significant because Noah famously sent out a dove (ינה, yonah), hence the name Javan, and a raven (ערב, 'oreb), hence the name Arabia. That suggests that the story of Noah may also tell of the formation of the literate world, which happened when the seafaring Phoenician Hebrews sent out scouts to the European west and the Asian east.

Noun תרבות (tarbut) means increase, greatness, multitude, and stems from the formidable verb רבב (rabab), to be or become many (hence also the familiar term Rabbi), or shoot a multitude of arrows. That same sentiment — one great thrust by many little impulses — is expressed by the verb ירה (yara), from which comes the familiar name Torah (via the same grammatical construction that makes tarbut from rabab).

But whatever its pedigree, our verb τριβω (tribo) in the classics could describe the threshing of grain under the hoofs of oxen (or of dead Trojans under Achilles' whole-hoofed horses; Il.20.496), or the rubbing of gold on a touchstone (βασανος, basanos) to prove its genuineness. In the classics our verb often features in scenes of considerable violence, and then tends to be translated into English with to bruise, pound or crush.

Our verb also often tells of a rubbing down to the nub, or a very smooth surface where there was once a profile. It may tell of wholly wearing out of clothes, or wearing a road shiny smooth, of a time tarried, a war prolonged, a country wasted or an estate squandered. Our verb may tell of people worn out by prolonged ills, struggles or oppression. Or it may emphasize some (unhealthy) obsession that will ultimately wear someone out (or possibly make him a weary expert in something).

Note the accidental similarity with the unrelated noun τριβολος (tribolos), meaning three-pronged, and descriptive of some nasty device with spikes that would cripple horses.

This verb τριβω (tribo) is not used independently in the New Testament, but from it derive:

The verb τρυω (truo) means to wear out. It's an ancient verb that shares its origin with the above, namely the huge PIE root "treh-", to rub or pierce. This verb τρυω (truo) is rarely used in the classics; its functions long assumed by equivalent verbs. Our verb is not used in the New Testament but its legacy lingers in a modest set of extant derivations:

The verb τιτρωσκω (titrosko) means to wound, and if the context is clear, to kill (in the same way that our English word "fallen" may euphemize a dead soldier). Our verb may refer to any sort of damage or injury, intentional of accidental. And it may describe what certain feelings (love, lust), lavish wine and child birth may do to a person.

This verb shares its origin with the above, namely the ancient PIE root "treh-", to rub or pierce. in certain grammatical constructions (future, aorist), our verb contracts to τρωσω (troso) or even τρωω (tro'o). None of these verbs are used in the New Testament but would have reminded pretty everybody in the classical period of the name Troy (see our article on Troas, and note Revelation 13:3).

From this verb come:

The noun τρυφη (truphe) means corrosion or weakness and softness through luxuriousness and opulence in the negative sense of being spoiled rotten, and note that the apt word corrosion comes from the Latin verb corrodo, to gnaw away (Luke 7:25 and 2 Peter 2:13 only). We moderns have gyms to prevent our office bodies to flab out, and more and more people begin to realize that phone-life makes our minds way flabbier — hence the search for mind-gyms such as free study groups offered by local schools, churches, synagogues, mosques, even hospitals and farms.

As Tacitus famously wrote: "Our style of dress was admired, and the toga was common. Gradually they slipped into the allurements of vices: the public lounge, the bath, the elegant banquet. And in their ignorance they called it culture, when it really was part of their enslavement" (Agricola.21.3).

Our noun stems from the unused verb θρυπτω (thrupto), meaning to break into little pieces, or even to pulverize so that any wind can blow the result away (see the noun τρωγαλια, trogalia, little snacks like nuts and fruits, discussed above, under τρωγω, trogo, to eat holes into). This verb τρυφη (truphe) became synonymous with becoming weak and small, especially in a moral sense: to enfeeble and become lawless and chaotic.

Note that the word "sybaritic", which likewise expresses a fondness of sensuous luxury and wanton pleasure, derives from the name Sybaris, an excessively wealthy Greek city on the southern coast of Italy, noted for its luxury and frequent extravagant feasts. The name Troy may have reminded of a similar sort of weakness.

Our verb obviously stems from our PIE root "treh-", to rub or pierce. From this verb comes: