a month: one turn of the moon, about thirty days (the rarer and older of Hebrew's two words for a month)
Hebrew has two words for a month. The everyday one (חֹדֶשׁ) appears hundreds of times and is named for the new moon that opens each month. This word is the other one, and it is rare: twelve occurrences in all, mostly in poetry and in a few old records. It is formed like the word for the moon itself (יָרֵחַ), so it names the span of time that one turn of the moon marks out.
Most of the time it simply measures a length of time, counting off months the way we do:
- three months of hiding the newborn Moses
- a full month of mourning for a captive woman's parents
- the single month that Shallum held the throne in Samaria
- three shepherds swept away in one month
- the months a mountain goat carries her young before giving birth
Job reaches for the plural to name whole stretches of a life: months of emptiness handed to him, and the months of long ago when God still watched over him.
The other use is on a calendar. Three dated lines in the record of Solomon's temple keep old month names that later Hebrew dropped: Ziv, Bul, and Ethanim. Two of the three come with an explanation for readers who no longer recognized them, since the text adds that Bul is the eighth month and Ethanim the seventh. That small editorial help is a good sign of how old the names already felt when the record was compiled.
One line stands apart. In the blessing of Joseph the harvest is praised as the best of what the sun produces and the best of what the months yield. Because this word and the word for the moon are built alike, translations split here: some read the passing months, others read the moon itself shining on the crops. Either way the point holds, that the fruitfulness of the land follows the rhythm of the sky.