MAGAZINE

Ancient Echoes and Modern Slang

How Hebrew holds the thread between then and now

Daniella Tourgeman
|
4 min read

Hebrew has always lived in paradox – It’s a language of ancient scripture, but modern street corners. Of fixed roots, with fluid meanings. Hebrew evolves and stretches across time, culture, and context, while remaining deeply itself. It is one of the oldest languages still spoken today, a language of codes, roots, and layers. As a Semitic tongue, part of a linguistic family that spans continents and millennia, its very structure is built on triliteral roots and deep historical patterns. Born from ancient texts and sacred rhythms, it has never stayed frozen in time. Instead, Hebrew lives in the in-between: ancient yet current, sacred yet colloquial, stable yet changing. It holds the tension between past and present, structure and fluidity, and in doing so, reflects the essence of how spoken languages act. Once nearly silent, Hebrew was revived into modern life as a living bridge across time. Let’s explore patterns and idioms that show how Hebrew becomes a lens: a language that has survived not because it resisted change, but because it embraced it.

Go with the flow – לזרום (leez-rohm)

Originally just a physical term – water flows, traffic flows – לזרום (to flow) has become a cultural philosophy. In modern Hebrew, it means to go along, adapt, stay open:
בוא נזרום (boh neez-rohm) means “let’s just go with it.”

It’s not passive, it’s a choice. To “go with the flow” is to be flexible without losing yourself, spontaneous without being aimless. In a society often defined by stress – political, cultural, generational – “Leez-rohm” offers an alternative: movement without resistance, agreement without full control. It’s a mindset, a coping mechanism, and a modern mantra, all packed into one smooth verb.

From rabbinic roots to street smarts – תכלס (tach-lehs)

A Citizen Cafe’s favorite in classes, תכלס is of Aramaic origin, found in the pages of rabbinic discourse, meaning “essence”, “goal”, or “purpose.” Fast forward a few centuries, and it’s now used to cut through small talk: “Tachles, what are you really saying?” 

It’s a word that thrives on impatience, ideal for a society that often prefers bluntness over distance. Whether in classrooms, WhatsApp chats, or tense debates, tachles signals: let’s skip the unnecessary. Interestingly, even as it sharpens the tone, it also connects modern speakers to ancient modes of argument and logic.

Borrow, adapt, reshape – לגגל (leh-gah-gehl), לזפזפ (leh-zahp-zehp)

Rather than resisting foreign influence, Hebrew absorbs and reshapes. When technology brings new concepts, Hebrew “verbs” them: Google becomes leh-gah-gehl, zapping channels turns into leh-zahp-zehp, and even faxing was once leh-fahks-sehs

It’s part of a linguistic dance: Hebrew domesticates the foreign words by applying common verb patterns over them, usually the pattern פיעל. These invented verbs might sound playful, even clumsy, but they follow deep grammatical roots and rhythms that echo ancient Hebrew. It’s how a revived language stays alive, by keeping form sacred, but letting content roam free.

Cool by any other name – סבבה (sah-bah-bah)

Borrowed from Arabic, סבבה once carried poetic, even spiritual undertones, meaning “fine,” “great,” or “all is well.” In Israeli Hebrew, it’s the ultimate laid-back affirmation: “You coming?” “Sababa.” It’s the sound of a shrug and a smile rolled into one.
What’s fascinating is that sababa bridges cultures without translation. Many Arabic speakers still use it, and Hebrew borrowed it not just as a word, but as a state of mind. It’s linguistic coexistence in one chilled syllable.

A small word with big feeling – !יש (yehsh)

At its core, יש is just a marker of existence: “there is.” But in modern Hebrew, it shouts. “Yesh!” exclaimed when you win, succeed, or finally make it. It’s a celebration word born from grammar – that’s the magic! Hebrew didn’t need to invent a new slang term for joy; it simply turned a structural necessity into an emotional punch. And because yesh is short, sharp, and ancient, its impact feels both primal and present.

Language lives through the people who speak it

Hebrew holds its history not like a fossil, but like a root system, anchoring growth, not limiting it. It embraces contradiction: old and new, sacred and casual. In this, it mirrors the human experience – always becoming. In the end, it’s not just history or structure that keeps a language alive; it’s people. Hebrew continues to evolve because those who speak it, sing it, write it, and dream in it breathe new life into it every day. 

Whether in Tel Aviv, Toronto, or Johannesburg, Hebrew speakers carry a legacy. Every twist of slang, every poetic reinvention, every modern usage layered over ancient roots is a quiet act of cultural continuity. Across time zones and borders, every Hebrew speaker holds the torch for preserving the language, whilst reshaping its future.

 

About the Author

 

 

Daniella Tourgeman, a singer, songwriter, artist, and Hebrew teacher at Citizen Café, holds a bachelor’s in Middle Eastern composition and music. She’s passionate about teaching music and language, exploring her craft, the outdoors, sunrises, and everything purple.

 

 

 

Daniella Tourgeman

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Hebrew Nugget:

Ancient Echoes and Modern Slang

The past year has been an emotional rollercoaster – moving from the shock, pain, and sadness of unimaginable events to the moments of hope we felt with each hostage coming home, each family reunited, and every soldier returning safely. Alongside this, we’ve found countless reasons to be grateful – for the incredible outpouring of support from civilians, and for the things we still hold dear, like our families, our partners, and our community. But these feelings are always mixed with the ache and despair that everyone in Israel still carries, even now.
I’d say the best way to describe how everyone around me is feeling is רגשות מעורבים (reh-gah-shoht meh-oh-rah-veem), which means “mixed emotions.” רגש (reh-gehsh) means “an emotion” in singular, but in plural, רגשות, it might sound feminine with the “OHT” ending. But here’s the catch: this doesn’t change the gender of the noun or the adjective that follows, which still matches the singular form. So, it’s מעורבים and not מעורבות. It’s just one of those quirks of Hebrew that’s tricky to explain.