How many words are there in the English language? The answer is approximately 600,000. However, the average person only knows about 25,000 to 30,000 of them. Now, how many words exist in modern Hebrew?
One of my Israeli friends once remarked that Hebrew is a “thin language” with far fewer words than English. In truth, modern Hebrew contains about 90,000 to 100,000 words, yet, just like in English, the average speaker only knows around 25,000 to 30,000 of them.
Now, here’s the astonishing part: How many words are in the Hebrew Bible? The answer varies depending on how one counts, as Hebrew words often share roots, leading to different interpretations. However, the best estimates suggest there are between 6,000 and 9,000 words in the Hebrew Bible—roughly 100 times fewer than in English.
The Thesaurus Game
English, as a vast language, offers numerous synonyms for common words. I recall an exercise from third grade where we attempted to list as many synonyms as possible for the word “big.” There were plenty. Today, let’s try something different—how many synonyms can we think of for “darkness”?
We might come up with words like blackness, gloom, murkiness, and sunless. But despite Hebrew’s limited vocabulary, it offers a surprisingly rich selection of words for darkness. There’s חֹשֶׁךְ (the standard word for darkness), חֲשֵׁכָה (a bitter darkness), עֲרָפֶל (a darkness specifically associated with God’s presence), אוֹפֶל (nightliness), צַלְמָוֶת (a shadow of death), and אֲפֵלָה (a deep, obscure darkness).
One of the most fascinating words is עֲלָטָה, which appears only once in the entire Hebrew Bible, in Genesis. It describes a unique kind of darkness Abraham experienced during the day. This isn’t merely the absence of light but a deeper, more profound form of darkness—one that feels inescapable even when the sun is shining.
The Ninth Plague: A Darkness That Divides
This concept of darkness leads us to a pivotal moment in the Torah—the ninth plague of Egypt. The plague of darkness, חֹשֶׁךְ, wasn’t just a physical absence of light. The Torah describes it as a darkness so thick that “people could not see one another.”
What does it mean that they “could not see one another”? Surely, the Torah isn’t just talking about visibility. It suggests a deeper, more troubling blindness—one where people were so consumed by darkness that they could no longer recognize each other. They were trapped, isolated in their own worlds, unable to move toward one another for three days.
Yet, there was a contrast. While the Egyptians were enveloped in this darkness, the Israelites could see each other. This is a profound lesson: Darkness is not just about an absence of light—it’s about the inability to see our fellow human beings.
A Lesson from King David
Fast forward to another biblical story that illustrates this kind of blindness. Before David became king, he was anointed by the prophet Samuel while Saul still reigned. Naturally, Saul saw David as a threat.
David, fleeing for his life, hid in the caves of Ein Gedi. One day, Saul entered the very cave where David and his men were hiding. David’s men urged him to kill Saul, but David refused. Instead, he stealthily cut off a piece of Saul’s cloak. When Saul left the cave, David called out to him:
“אָבִי, my father, it is I, your servant David!”
Saul, however, couldn’t see him—not physically, but in a deeper sense. He could only see David as a political rival, a usurper, a threat. Even though David stood right before him, pleading to be seen, Saul remained blind.
This is עֲלָטָה—darkness in broad daylight. And this, I believe, is the plague we are living through today.
The Plague We Live In
If we were to ask, “Which biblical plague are we experiencing in our country right now?” I would argue it is the ninth plague—the plague of darkness.
Political polarization has created an environment where two people can be in the same room, even in the same family, yet be unable to truly see each other. Conversations about politics, world events, or social issues devolve into conflict and anger. People refuse to engage with those who hold different views, choosing instead to remain in the comfort of their own ideological darkness.
Some people even prefer the darkness. They thrive on division, finding energy in having an enemy to rage against. This brings to mind the old joke:
A Jewish boy calls his mother and asks how she’s doing.
“Oh, not so well,” she says.
“Why not, Mom?”
“I haven’t eaten all day,” she replies.
“Why haven’t you eaten?”
“Well, I was hoping you would call and take me out to dinner.”
The punchline? “It’s okay, son. I’ll just sit here in the dark.”
Some people are content to sit in the dark—both metaphorically and literally. They do not wish to bridge divides; they would rather nurse their grievances in solitude.
Seeing One Another Again
But what our country needs now is not more people arguing over who is right. What we need is the ability to truly see one another again. To step out of the plague of darkness and into the light of understanding.
How do we do this? By asking each other real, meaningful questions.
Here are three questions you can ask someone whose views are different from your own:
- What is an experience in your life that has shaped how you see the world?
- What do you value most in this world?
- What do you think people most misunderstand about you?
Instead of avoiding difficult conversations, we should be initiating them with these questions. Instead of seeing those who disagree with us as enemies, we should be listening to their stories, understanding their values, and seeking clarity on their perspectives.
Yes, the world is dark. But we have the ability to bring light into the darkness. We can see through the divisions and recognize our fellow Americans, our fellow friends, our fellow family members—not as opponents, but as people.
Let us not be like the Egyptians, trapped in darkness, unable to move toward one another. Let us instead be like the Israelites, who, even in the midst of that darkness, could still see each other.
Because the true plague of darkness is not the absence of light—it is the inability to see one another. And only by striving to see, understand, and listen can we find our way out.