Spears, Lances, and Scimitars
In one of the most dramatic acts of zeal preserved in the Bible, Aaron’s grandson Phineas responded to a very public sin committed by Kozbi and Zimri with righteous indignation. Outraged with the horrid desecration of Hashem’s name that the pair had committed, Phineas rose up and took a romach (commonly translated as “spear”), whereupon he speared the two sinners on the spot and put an end to their aberration (Num. 25:7). In this essay, we take a closer look at the Hebrew word used for Phineas’ weapon of choice — the romach — and compare it with other Hebrew words like chanit and kidon that seem to refer to the same or very similar weapons. According to the Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (HALOT), romach may be translated as “lance;” chanit, as “spear;” and kidon, as “hunting knife/scimitar.” However, this essay focuses on the Hebrew etymology of those words and tries to show what how their inner meanings relate to their core roots.
The word romach appears only once in the Pentateuch (Num. 25:7), in that one instance of Phineas arming himself to attack Kozbi and Zimri in middle of their sin. Nonetheless, the word romach does appears another 14 times throughout the rest of the Bible. The classical lexicographers like Menachem Ibn Saruk (920–970), Yonah Ibn Janach (990–1055), and the Radak (1160–1235) all trace the word romach to the triliteral root REISH-MEM-CHET, which is only used in reference to that weapon.
Later lexicographers give alternate explanations of the word romach, explaining it as deriving from a compound root comprised of multiple roots fused together. For example, Rabbi Moshe Tedeschi Ashkenazi (1821–1898) in his work Otzar Nirdafim on Hebrew synonyms writes that the word romach is related to the biliteral root MEM-CHET (“erase/annihilate”), which recalls the destructive nature of the weapon.
Similarly, Ohalei Yehuda notes that with but a single stab, a romach proves fatal to any human — whether an exalted individual or lowly person. Because of this, he explains the word romach as a portmanteau of the roots REISH-(VAV)-MEM (“high/exalted”) and MEM-CHET (“erasing/annihilating), thus explicating the word as referring to the fact that it is lethal even against the highest-ranking individuals. Indeed, Kozbi was Midianite princess and Zimri was the prince of the Tribe of Shimon, yet both were swiftly felled by Phineas’ mighty romach.
Alternatively, Ohalei Yehuda suggests that the word romach derives from the biliteral roots REISH-MEM (“high/lift/remove”) and CHET-YOD (chai, “life”), because the romach maintains the ability to kill one’s victim, which effectively “removes” their “life.”
Interestingly, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (to Ex. 15:1, Num. 25:7) follows the triliteralist approach that traces the word romach to the root REISH-MEM-CHET, but he sees that root as bearing phonetic affinity to the similar word ramah (“throwing/shooting”), via the interchangeability of CHET and HEY. In his view, it seems, the word romach refers to a weapon used by “throwing,” but not generally by “stabbing.”
The word chanit appears a total of forty-seven times in the Bible, but none of those are in the Pentateuch. While triliteralists Ibn Janach and Radak (in their respective Sefer HaShorashim) trace the word chanit to the triliteral root CHET-NUN-HEY (“camping,” “resting,” “store”), the biliteral Menachem Ibn Saruk does not even list this word in his lexicon on Biblical Hebrew!
That said, Rabbi Shlomo Pappenheim (1740–1814), being a biliteralist, traces the word chanit to the biliteral root CHET-NUN (“camping,” as in the opposite of “travelling”). He explains that words like machaneh (“camp”) derive from this root in the sense of a united party that is travelling from one place to another, but has collectively stopped and made camp at a specific location. Similarly, a military encampment is likewise called a machaneh because it consists of multiple individuals working together to capture enemy territory or defend the motherland. In line with this, Rabbi Pappenheim explains the word chanit as related to the core meaning of this root because the chanit was a weapon that was commonly found in military encampments and was used for military purposes. [For more about the word machaneh and how it sometimes means “family,” see “Family Matters” (Nov. 2021).]
Interestingly, Rabbi Pappenheim also sees the word anachnu (“we/us,” the first person plural) as likewise derived from this root. The way he parses that word, the ana element cognates with the Hebrew words ani/anochi (“I/me,” the first person singular) and the chnu element derives from CHET-NUN, because when a group of people refer to themselves in the first person, it is as though they are saying “we who are camping together.” Rabbi Pappenheim also sees the word chen (“charm/favor”) as derived from this biliteral root, explaining that when one has charmfully found favor in the eyes of another, the other is willing to “accept” him and graciously grant him headspace to figuratively “camp out” in his thoughts. The words techinah/tachanun (“supplication”) refer to petitions to be granted chen on the part of another.
There are three more ways of understanding the etymology of chanit: Rabbi Tedeschi Ashkenazi writes that the word chanit derives from the root CHET-NUN-HEY (“camping”) and refers to the fact that this weapon would often be stabbed into the ground where it would be “camped.” Shoresh Yesha also connects chanit to that root, but he explains that the chanit is a weapon that military camps are sacred of. Finally, Ohalei Yehuda sees the word chanit as related to the word chadah (“sharp/pointed”), probably due to the interchangeability of the letters NUN and DALET.
The word kidon appears nine times in the Bible, all in the books of Joshua (Josh. 8:18, 8:26), Samuel (I Sam. 17:6, 17:45), Jeremiah (Jer. 6:23, 50:42), and Job (Job 39:23, 41:21). It never appears in the Pentateuch. Targum (to Josh. 8:18) actually translates kidon as romcha — an Aramaicization of the word romach, thus implying that the two weapons are very similar and the words for them can even be somewhat interchanged.
The classical lexicographers trace kidon to the three-letter root KAF-YOD-DALET. Another word derived from that same root is kiyd (Job 21:20), which means “misfortune/suffering.” This leads Ibn Janach to suggest that the word kidon as a weapon refers to that tool’s knack for bringing suffering and misfortune upon one’s enemies.
Maimonides (to Keilim 11:8) explains that a kidon is a small romach, noting that it is the type of weapon that kings and aristocrats typically carried with them at all times. Perhaps Maimonides understood the word kidon as related to the word yad (“hand”), with the initial KAF meaning “similar/like,” for if this weapon was with a nobleman wherever he went, it could be described as “akin to a hand” which likewise follows a person wherever he may go.
The esteemed philologist Rabbi Dr. Ernest Klein (no relation) suggests that the word kidon is probably etymologically-related to the Arabic kadda and the Ethiopic kedda (which are verbs for “thrusting”). In a somewhat similar way, Rabbi Yehoshua (Jeremy) Steinberg of the Veromemanu Foundation proposes that kidon is a metathesized derivative of the root DALET-KAF (“smashed”), which recalls another of referring to how a kidon might smite one’s enemies. [For more about the word dach and its synonyms, see “The Poor and Unfortunate” (May 2019).]
Rabbi Tanchum HaYerushalmi (a 13th century exegete who lived in the Holy Land) writes in his work HaMadrich HaMaspik explains that although the word kidon usually refers to a small romach that is thrown at one’s enemies (like some sort of arrow or dart), in one place the Bible refers to King David’s archnemesis Goliath as wearing “a copper kidon between his shoulders” (I Sam. 17:6). This passage implies that kidon can also refer to a helmet worn on a person’s head. Accordingly, it would seem that perhaps kidon can be understood as a general term that refers toall sorts of paraphernalia use by an infantryman, whether weaponry or armor.
Nonetheless, Radak (to I Sam. 17:6) explains that even in the context of Goliath, the kidon is an offensive weapon, not a defensive armor. In doing so, he writes that it refers to some sort of weapon that resembles a romach that soldiers would hide between their shoulders (perhaps something like a “cloak and dagger”?). Interestingly, when the word kidon appears elsewhere in the Bible, Radak (to Jer. 50:42) seems unsure about whether it refers to the weapon type or the armor type.
Rabbi Shlomo Pappenheim traces the word kidon to the billiteral root KAF-DALET, which he defines as “a vessel with ear-like handles that protrude sideways.” The most basic derivative of this root is the word kad (“jug”), which is indeed a receptacle that perfectly fits that exact description. In a borrowed sense, the word kidon also derives from that core root, as it refers to a sort of romach that has spikes protruding from its sides in a way that resembles the handles on a jug. A third word that Rabbi Pappenheim connects back to this root is neched (“nephew”),* which refers to a side offshoot of one’s family tree, as opposed to a line of direct linear descent.
In Modern Hebrew, the word kidon takes on three new meanings: “javelin” (i.e., a long spear that people throw in Olympiad sports), “bayonet” (that is, a sort of spear that is sometimes appended to the end of a rifle), and “grip/handlebar” (on a bicycle). The first two meanings of kidon in the Modern Hebrew sense can be clearly seen as outgrowths of the Biblical word, because the javelin and bayonet are ultimately types of spears. But the last meaning “grip/handlebar” is a bit more difficult to trace back to the word’s original intent. Dr. Raphael Sappan (1927-1995), who was an expert in the development of Modern Hebrew slang, writes in his additions to Even-Shoshan’s Modern Hebrew dictionary that this last usage is derived from the phonetic similarity of the Hebrew kidon with the French word guidone, which refers to a “grip/handlebar.” Alternatively, my son Elimelech Klein argues that perhaps because the positions of a biker’s hands on the bike’s handles resembles the positions of a javelineer’s hands on a javelin, so the Hebrew word for javelin expanded to also refer to bike handles.
Rabbi Shmuel Krauss (1866–1948) writes that romach, chanit, and kidon are all synonyms that refer to the same sort of weapon. He even adds that the rabbis used a fourth synonym for this weapon — alunki. For example, the Amoraic sage Shmuel said “one who was smitten with a Persian alunki, will not live” (Gittin 70a). Rabbi Krauss explains that alunki is derived from the Greek word λόγχη (lónkhē), which happens to be the etymon from which the English word lance evolved. In the Persian version of this weapon, the points of these spears were tipped with poison, so one who was hit by such a weapon is unlikely to survive.
* NOTE: In Modern Hebrew, we are familiar with the word neched as “grandson.” However, this was not always how the word was understood. For example, Rashi’s grandson Rashbam (to Gen. 2:19, Deut. 2:19, Bava Batra 108a, 109a, and 114b) uses the word neched to refer to a “nephew.” Similarly, Rabbi Berechia ben Natronai HaNakdan (a 12th century scholar and translator who lived in France and England) wrote a book on science presented as a conversation between an uncle and his nephew, entitled Dodi V’Nechdi (literally, “My uncle and my nephew”). And, Mincha Belulah (to Ex. 17) writes that Miriam’s son Hur was Moses’ neched. All of these sources demonstrate that the Hebrew word neched was understood in Medieval times to mean “nephew,” not “grandson.”
Rabbi Yitzchok Yishaya Weiss (Rav of Neve Achiezer) points out that the Rashbam and others were likely influenced by French, in which the word neveu, which is a cognate of the English word nephew (through the Old French nevou/niers) means “grandson/descendant,” but is actually derived from the Latin nepot/nepos (the etymological forebear of the English word nepotism). In case you’re wondering, in Modern Hebrew, the word for “nephew” is achyyan. [For more about neched, s ee Rabbi Yaakov Emden’s comments in Kolan Shel Sofrim (to Bava Batra 114b) and Rabbi Chaim Palagi (Uvacharta B’chaim) who write that Rashbam erred in his verbiage. See also Rabbi Matisyahu Strashun’s Mivchar Ketavim (p. 243).]