Let’s begin with a sigh of relief. All of Israel’s hostages are home, and we are now entering a season of Jewish celebrations. It is time to call to mind a popular quip: “Jewish history can be told in three sentences: They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.” Those who like to add a celebratory toast to their meals might recall the wine parties of the story of Purim, which this year “falls” (or fell) on March 3. Both the word “falls” and the holiday itself bring to mind the Hebrew root נ–פ–ל (nun-feh-lamed), to fall.

The root appears many times in the Book of Esther. One derivation—with the letter nun having “fallen off,” as the nun is wont to do—bookends the story recounted in Esther. Haman, we are told twice, הִפִּיל‭ ‬פּוּר‭ ‬(hippil pur), “casts lots,” to determine a propitious date for his proposed הִתְנַפּלוּת (hitnaplut), onslaught, against the Jews. Esther then beseeches King Ahasuerus to rescind Haman’s edict, וַתִּפֹּל‭ ‬לִפְנֵי‭ ‬רַגְלָיו‭ ‬(va-tippol lifnei raglav), “falling at [the king’s] feet.” When, later, Haman mirrors Esther’s gesture, as he נֹפֵל‭ ‬עַל‭ ‬הַמִּטָּה (nofel al ha-mittah), “tumbles on [Esther’s] couch,” the king sees that act not as a supplication but as a seditious seduction. Central to this plot reversal is the prediction of Haman’s wife, Zeresh, who warns her husband that, if you start up with the Jews, נָפוֹל‭ ‬תִּפּוֹל (nafol tippol), “you will certainly fail.”

Other biblical stories include our root, such as in the Book of Ruth, when Naomi suggests that Ruth wait patiently to see אֵיךְ‭ ‬יִפֺּל‭ ‬דָּבָר (eikh yippol davar), “How things will work out,” in Ruth’s relationship with Boaz, who has provided food for the two of them in their poverty. Then there are the 12 spies in Numbers who check out the land of Canaan for the Israelites waiting in the desert and report back that it has dangerous נְּפִילִים (nephilim), giants. King Saul’s death gives rise to a modern lament: אֵיךְ‭ ‬נָפְלוּ‭ ‬גִּבּוֹרִים (eikh nafllu gibborim), “How the mighty have fallen!”

The root is all over modern Hebrew’s lexical map, from the medical in נַפֶּלֶת, (napelet), epilepsy, to the soothing pastoral scene of a מַפַּל מַיִם (mappal mayyim), waterfall. And when a Hebraist seeks a play on words, he may joke that a לָשׁוֹן נוֹפֵל עַל לָשׁוֹן (lashon nofel al lashon), pun—literally “tongue falls upon tongue”—can also be a double entendre.

Unrelated dual usages in Hebrew seemingly fall from the sky: a הַפָּלָה (happalah) can be a miscarriage or the downing of an airplane; מַפֺּלֶת (mappolet), an avalanche or a stock market crash; and נְפִילָה (nefilah), a rocket that fails (a dud) or a computer breakdown.

And for an Ashkenazi Jew, a prayer of supplication involves the act of נְפִילַת אַפַּיִם (nefilat appayim), one’s head falling on an arm, or leaning forward. Perhaps he or she is praying that good times and good news will continue.

Joseph Lowin’s columns for Hadassah Magazine are collected in HebrewSpeak, Hebrew Talk and Hebrew Matters.