The Hebrew Verb System

Semitic languages like Hebrew operate on a root system. A root is a series of three or four consonants which carry specific meanings; for example, the root represented in Hebrew by D-B-R is related to “speech.” 

But the roots themselves are not words. This is why when they are spelled out, they are not given vowels or even any indication of how to pronounce them. They are elements in the ether waiting for form.

It is not difficult to imagine why people would have the tradition that Hebrew (or other such languages) are the building blocks of the universe itself. Hebrew is composed of letters that serve as building blocks to roots, which themselves are a higher order of building blocks — not yet settled words.

Hebrew nouns are similar to English. Different roots can make up specific nouns in forms called Mishkal, and they are dependent on which Mishkal is relevant to the word. 

Take the word “know.” Know is something of root: it can be part of the noun “knowledge” or the adjective “unknown” or the gerund “knowing.” But there is no such word as “knowative,” though there is the word “talkative” and “speculative.” Each one of these English forms signifies a certain meaning — the “edge” suffix means “substantive matter.”

In Hebrew, we have nouns like “SaKHKaN” (actor) based on the root S־KH־K שׂחק (general meaning of play), but this Mishkal, which makes the root into a job, won’t work for a root like SH - V - R (שבר) (general meaning of break) — no such thing as SHaVRaN (which would mean breaker as a profession.)

But the verbs are significantly different. The Hebrew system is called the Binyan system. The Binyan system takes the root and makes it into a fundamental “word” which then must be conjugated or shaped depending on its tense and gender into becoming a full-fledged word. Unlike the Mishkal system, the Binyan does not make you instantly understand this new word — it merely gives direction as to what it is becoming. Each Binyan dictates something that will happen to the root, but will not give definitive meaning to the root by its nature as a noun form would. 

There are a minimum of seven “Binyanim.” (In older Hebrew, the eighth Binyan Nitpa’el lurks in the shadows). Like with Mishkal, not all Binyanim are applicable to all roots. 

Let’s take D-B-R, generally related to “speech.” We’ll place it within the Pi’el Binyan. As a result, we will get an infinitive, meaning a general verb, meaning “to speak” (l’DaBeR.) But we have yet to conjugate it into a specific form. Should we choose to put it in the present tense, masculine singular, it becomes m’DaBeR (I/he speaks). 

Any root that we use that is accepted in the Pi’el binyan will have a similar result in terms of how the final word appears. If we take L-M-D (general meaning learning) and go through the same process, we will reach m’LaMeD (I/he teaches.) 

Now for the interesting part: each Binyan carries with it a layer of meaning that adds to the general meaning of the root, but does not completely define it. Pi’el’s layer of meaning is  “active and intensified if that is an option.” What does that mean in practicality? 

Let’s take our two examples. We can only insert one of our roots into the Binyan called “Pa’al,” whose layer of meaning is “active.” D-B-R does not have a Pa’al form. As a result, there is no special intensification in meaning that D-B-R undergoes as it is put into a Pi’el form and conjugated. L-M-D, on the other hand, does have a Pa’al form. When put into that form, liL’MoD means “to learn.” In Pi’el therefore, where the meaning is “intensified,” L-M-D, which becomes lihLaMeD, is pushed to become “to teach.”

In this way, unlike the noun forms, roots take on processes that are indicative of its eventual meaning but not strictly speaking obvious. Who says that the intensified active version of “learn” is “teach?” However, if you were told that these are the processes that roots take on, you would not be surprised to learn which meaning is derived from which Binyan.

Other binyanim are much more indicative of the processes they put the roots through. As an example, the root Hi’fil takes on the general meaning “active, causative.” This means that a root that goes through Hi’fil is guaranteed to take on an eventual meaning that can be interpreted to cause an action, not just be an action. Let’s take the root Z-KH-R זכר (general meaning of remember). If we take it to its Hi’fil infinitive, l’haZKir, “to remind,” we can deduce that reminding is a verb in which someone or something is causing someone to remember.

The Binyanim are interpreted as a seven-branch menorah (though there are more than seven in older Hebrew.) Each “active” layer Binyan has a “passive” counterpart. Pi’el has a “counterpart” called “Pu’al.” This means that Pu’al is the same layer as Pi’el and confers the same meaning, except that it changes the resulting verb from active to passive. “m’DaBeR,” (I/he speaks) would have a comparable Pu’al form in the word “m’DuBaR,” (he/it is spoken.) 

While the vowel and additional consonant patterns that result are predictive as they are passed through the Binyanim, they are not definitive. As it happens, certain letters, when they are part of the roots, modify the vowel patterns in each conjugation. Each one of these variations in pattern is called a “Gizrah.” They generally affect roots with so-called “guttural” letters, which would have been traditionally pronounced in a way that would have strained the throat. These variations, which are common in some cases and rare in others, are the source of Hebrew grammar tables, which list out the conjugations of each and every one of these exceptions, which are numerable.

Therefore, the study of Hebrew grammar is less one of syntax as it is in English, and more one of the deep study of verbs — observing how a root with a general meaning idea gets shaped through a binyan, then conjugated into a specific meaning, sometimes in a regular pattern, sometimes modified in an irregular one.

Perhaps more importantly, in the study of Hebrew text, the ability to go backwards from word, to gizrah, to binyan, and finally to root, teaches you the nuances of the meanings of this word in ways that that translation or passive acceptance of the word in the Hebrew itself shaves off. 

This process was recognized by the rabbis in their “rereadings” of words, playing with way they sounded to come up with secondary meanings, changing their binyan in order to create new interpretations, and recognizing that the Word of God is flexible and multiplicative in its meanings that human speech does not have the license for.

Nonetheless, Hebrew poets build upon this tradition and have an ear for the meanings and paths of words that hold connotations beyond the obvious translation — and those who interact with Hebrew regularly, whether through the means of English or Yiddish, choose the Hebrew word specifically for its reverberations that Germanic and Slavic words never had in its meaning-making process.