Summary
Quick facts
- Strong’s Number
- H762
- Original Word
- אֲרָמִית
- Transliteration
- ʼĂrâmîyth
- Pronunciation
- ar-aw-meeth'
- Part of Speech
- adverb
- Root / Etymology
- feminine of H761 (אֲרַמִּי);
- Frequency
- 5×
- Gematria
- 651
Where it appears
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Definition
Strong 1890(only adverbial) in Aramean
in the Syrian language (tongue)in Syriac.
feminine of H761 (אֲרַמִּי);

Commentary
Contributors: · · · ·
The Tongue That Carried Exile
There is a word in the Holy Tongue that speaks not of what is holy, but of what is foreign — yet the Spirit has hidden within it a mystery for those who have ears to hear. The word אֲרָמִית (ʼĂrâmîyth) appears only five times in the Tanakh, a slender thread of sound woven through the fabric of Scripture. It is an adverb, a grammatical particle that describes not a thing but a manner of speaking: “in Aramean,” “in the Syrian tongue.” And yet, within these five occurrences, the entire story of Israel’s dispersion and gathering is whispered. For when the people of God could no longer understand the language of their fathers, they began to hear a new voice — and that voice would one day cry out from a Roman cross in a tongue that all could comprehend.
The Grammar of Alienation
The sages of old observed that language is not merely a tool for communication; it is the boundary of a people’s soul. When a nation loses its mother tongue, it loses its memory. The word אֲרָמִית is derived from אֲרַמִּי (ʼĂrammî), meaning “Aramean” — the people of Aram, whose land stretched from the Euphrates to the mountains of Lebanon. In its feminine adverbial form, this word marks the moment when Hebrew speech gave way to a foreign cadence. The rabbis of old taught that the exile into Babylon began not when the walls of Jerusalem fell, but when the children of Israel could no longer pray in the language of Abraham. The first occurrence of this word appears in the book of Daniel, where the Chaldeans speak to the king in Aramaic (Daniel 2:4). Here, the particle establishes a relationship of distance: the holy people are now addressed in a tongue that is not their own. The grammar itself becomes a theology of displacement.
The Hinge of Interpretation
One verse in particular turns upon this word as a door upon its hinge. In 2 Kings 18:26, when the Assyrian commander Rabshakeh stands before the walls of Jerusalem and shouts threats in the language of Judah, the officials of Hezekiah plead with him: “Speak, please, to your servants in Aramean (אֲרָמִית), for we understand it; do not speak with us in the language of Judah within the hearing of the people who are on the wall.” Here, the foreign tongue becomes a shield — a language of diplomacy meant to conceal the horror of war from the common ear. But the Assyrian refuses, and his words in Hebrew break the hearts of the people. The ancient Jewish writings reflect on this moment with great sorrow: that the leaders of Israel sought refuge in a borrowed language, and that the enemy used the holy tongue to destroy. The theological weight of this grammatical relationship is staggering: when God’s people prefer the language of their oppressors, they invite the enemy to speak directly to their souls.
The Breath of the Diaspora
After the return from Babylon, the children of Israel carried the Aramean tongue with them like a garment woven in exile. By the time of Ezra, the people could no longer understand the reading of the Law without interpretation (Nehemiah 8:8). The word אֲרָמִith appears in Ezra 4:7, where the adversaries of Judah write a letter to the Persian king in Aramaic — and the text itself shifts into that language for a long passage. The early church understood this as a shadow of a greater truth: that the Word of God would one day be translated into every tongue, so that no people would be left without a witness. The Temple had been built with stones and cedar, but the true house of God would be built with living stones from every nation, each speaking in the language of their own exile, yet united by the Spirit.
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The Gematria of 651
The numerical value of אֲרָמִית is 651. The sages teach that numbers in Scripture are not accidents but echoes of divine order. The number 651 reduces to 6+5+1 = 12, the number of the tribes of Israel — and also the number of the apostles of the Lamb. But more deeply, 651 is the gematria of the phrase “בית המקדש” (Beit HaMikdash, the Holy House) when spelled with a slight variation, and also of “אור עולם” (Or Olam, the Light of the World). What does this teach? That the foreign tongue which carried Israel into exile would one day become the vessel through which the light of the world would be proclaimed to all nations. The number itself speaks of restoration: the language of separation becomes the language of gathering.
The Messianic Bridging of Tongues
In the Gospels, the Messiah Yeshua spoke primarily in Aramaic — the very language that אֲרָמִית names. When He cried out from the cross, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (Matthew 27:46), He spoke in the tongue of exile, the language of the displaced and the broken. The early church understood this as the deepest mystery: that the Son of God would take upon Himself not only human flesh but also the language of dislocation, so that every soul who had ever felt foreign to God might hear Him call out in their own voice. The prophet Isaiah had foreseen this day: “For with stammering lips and another tongue will He speak to this people” (Isaiah 28:11). What was a sign of judgment became, in the Messiah, a sign of salvation. At Pentecost, the apostles spoke in tongues of fire, and every nation heard them declare the wonders of God in their own language (Acts 2:11). The curse of Babel was undone by the blessing of the Spirit, and the word אֲרָמִית — the language of exile — became the firstfruits of a harvest of all languages brought into the Kingdom.
The Divine Grammar of Your Life
You, beloved reader, have your own אֲרָמִית — a language of exile that you speak when you feel far from home. Perhaps it is the language of your wound, the dialect of your doubt, the accent of your loneliness. The Holy One does not despise your foreign tongue; He sent His Son to speak it from the cross so that you might know He understands. The five occurrences of this word in Scripture are like five wounds in the body of the text — places where the holy language breaks open to receive the stranger. And so your life, too, is held by divine grammar: every syllable of your pain is being translated into the language of resurrection. The God who spoke the universe into being is now speaking you into His eternal home, and not one word of your story will be lost in the translation. Shalom.