Sunday Meditation 6

How learning the Hebrew alphabet helped bring me peace

That’s not Klingon at the top of this post. Not Ferengi, Vulcan or Romulan. It’s Hebrew, albeit presented in a disarmingly colorful and randomly artistic fashion — looking very different than how it’s normally found in its natural habitat, the Tanakh.

I’m not Jewish. Neither am I a Hebrew scholar. But, a few years back, when I learned my youngest brother had inoperable brain cancer, I latched onto Hebrew as a way to keep the loopy-de-loop portion of my mind from looping over-and-over on the fact he would die within six months.

We were hoping Rick would make it to Independence Day. To see the fireworks. He passed before Memorial Day. In between I learned Hebrew, from Aleph to Tav.

It wasn’t a fanciful endeavor. It was desperation. My tendency to dwell on negative things (in this case, Rick’s cancer) often dragged me to shadowy, treacherous places that threatened to shut me down emotionally. (If you recall those gloomily morbid — but intensely colorful — scenes in “What Dreams May Come,” you know what I mean.)

The Hebrew worked. Alef-Bet-Gimel. Dalet-He-Vav. Zayin-Het-Tet. All the way to Resh-Shin-Tav. There are quirky things I found out along the way about this imagery-rich, ancient language:

It reads from right to left.

It’s all caps.

There are 22 letters — though five of them have final forms (Kaf, Mem, Nun, Pe and Tsadi) — and one, Sin/Shin, is sometimes counted twice.

Each letter has a representative meaning (Aleph-ox, Beit-tent/house, etc.) and a numerical significance (Aleph through Teit is 1–9; Yod through Tsadi is 10–90; Qof through Tav is 100–400).

Spelling of letters can vary. For example: Bet/Beit. Tet/Teit. Pe/Pei. Tsadi/Tzadi. Resh/Reish.

That’s an over-simplification, but it suggests a whiff of what I powered through my mind-grinder. The important thing is it worked. By the time Rick died, I’d learned the alphabet, memorized a few words and could write the first verse of Genesis:

בְּרֵאשִׁית, בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים, אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם, וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ

I didn’t do much with Hebrew after that — a few word-studies here and there — but when my Mom went into hospice last summer, I dug up my notes and started grinding again — and, again, it worked.

Am I suggesting you learn Hebrew to cope? Nope. But I am saying this: There are stressful times, dark times, swirling-twirling times when your mind is at best a distraction, and, at worst, your worst enemy. It helps to have a pre-determined sub-routine ready-to-roll in the background so you can deal with the reality that’s slapping you in the face. It’s worth a try.

SHäˈlōm …

PS: Here’s a link you may find useful. Let me know if it helps.

Sunday Meditation 1: The Prodigal Son

Sunday Meditation 2: Ode to Jim Elliot

Sunday Meditation 3: House of Bread

Sunday Meditation 4: Run, Baby, Run

Sunday Meditation 5: When Jesus Prayed

My Testimony: Stealing Psalm 40

Jim Lamb is a retired journalist living in Florida. He’s author of “Orange Socks & Other Colorful Tales,” the story of how he survived Vietnam and kept his sense of humor. He accepted Christ at a Sunday chapel service in Da Nang. For more about Jim, visit www.jslstories.com.