1/9 🧵 The Hebrew word for piano is psanter (פסנתר). It traces back to the Bible – but there, it wasn't a piano at all. It was a harp. So how did a harp become a piano? This is the wild story of a 2,000-year linguistic journey... 🎹
2/9 Early Hebrew speakers had a problem: how do you say "piano" in Hebrew?
Some just borrowed piano from Italian. Others tried recycling biblical terms like ugav or nevel.
None of those caught on. 🤷♂️
3/9 Then in 1885 in Rishon LeZion, someone made a breakthrough.
Possibly Berta Finberg – who owned the colony's only piano – introduced the word psanter.
But where did she find it? 🕵️♀️
4/9 She pulled it straight from the Book of Daniel.
There, Nebuchadnezzar orders everyone to bow when they hear "the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, psanterin..."
Perfect! An ancient word for a musical instrument. Problem solved, right? 📜
5/9 Plot twist: psanterin isn't even Aramaic (the language of Daniel).
It's borrowed from Greek psalterion – which was an ancient stringed instrument.
Basically... a harp. 🪕
6/9 But here's where it gets even better:
Whoever adapted this into Hebrew made a translation ERROR.
They mistook the Greek ending -in for an Aramaic plural marker... 🤦♂️
7/9 So they dropped the -in to create what they thought was the singular form: psanter.
They were essentially creating a new word based on a misunderstanding of the word's grammar.
And this mistake was about to change Hebrew forever. ⚡
8/9 The word stuck.
By the 1890s, newspapers were using psanter regularly.
It even beat out Hebrew revivalist Eliezer Ben-Yehuda's suggestion: makhoshit.
Sometimes the people's choice wins over the experts. 📰
9/9 So let's trace this journey:
🏛️ Ancient Greece: psalterion (harp) 📜 Book of Daniel: psanterin (still a harp) 🎹 1885 Rishon LeZion: psanter (now means piano)
A harp became a piano through pure linguistic accident.
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🧵 THREAD: The Hebrew word for chrysanthemum is chartzit. And hidden inside is one of the most beautiful linguistic journeys in history. 🌼 1/7
The ancient Greeks called this flower chrysanthemon — from chrysos (gold) and anthemon (flower). The golden flower. 2/7
Now here’s the thing: chrysos wasn’t originally Greek. It was borrowed from a Semitic language — probably Phoenician — where gold was called kharutz. 3/7
2/8 The traditional story: Ephraimites couldn't say "shibboleth" and said "sibboleth" instead. But linguistically, this makes no sense. No Semitic language shows SH merging with S, and S-speakers usually don't struggle with SH.
3/8 Here's what likely happened: The test word was שִׂבֹּלֶת with LEFT-dotted shin - that rare third sound from the original thread. It meant "flood/stream" (Psalm 69:3), not the grain we usually think of.
1/15 🧵 This Hebrew letter ש represents two sounds today: "sh" and "s." But here's a 2,000-year-old mystery that just got solved: it used to represent THREE completely different sounds.
2/15 Today we distinguish them with dots - right side for "sh," left side for "s." But why would ancient scribes create one letter for three sounds? The answer reveals secrets about how Hebrew really sounded 3,000 years ago.
3/15 Sound #1: "SH" like in shalom. This is the original sound that survived unchanged for millennia. It's the most stable of the three, appearing in Hebrew's oldest words.
🧵 THREAD: Atzabani might be Hebrew's most overloaded word. Not because it's misused — but because Hebrew speakers use it for literally every negative emotion imaginable. Here's why that's a problem. 1/8
2/ When someone says a person is atzabani, what do they mean? Nervous? Angry? Jumpy? Irritable? Tense? Bitter? Furious? The answer is: yes, all of those. One word trying to cover seven different emotional states.
3/ Modern Hebrew throws atzabani at anyone who's anxious and worried, tense or edgy, quick to snap, in a bad mood, sulking or bitter, irritable, or even completely furious. It's become the catch-all for negative emotions.