כִּ֣י מִ֣י כָל־בָּשָׂ֡ר אֲשֶׁ֣ר שָׁמַ֣ע קֹול֩ אֱלֹהִ֨ים חַיִּ֜ים מְדַבֵּ֧ר מִתֹּוךְ־הָאֵ֛שׁ כָּמֹ֖נוּ וַיֶּֽחִי׃
The Cry of the Awestruck
Deuteronomy 5:26 captures the trembling voice of Israel as they recall standing at Sinai, hearing the living voice of God emerging from fire. The verse is cast as a rhetorical question — not seeking information but expressing astonishment. Yet the Hebrew does not use a simple interrogative. Instead, it layers clauses, shifts from perfect to participle, and suspends the verb וַיֶּֽחִי (“and [he] lived”) until the very end. This is the grammar of awe — a structure designed to stretch tension and emphasize the miraculous survival of the one who heard.
The Hidden Grammar
The verse begins with the interrogative particle מִי (“who”), but it is immediately qualified:
כִּ֣י מִ֣י כָל־בָּשָׂ֡ר — “For who is there of all flesh…”
- מִי — interrogative pronoun “who”
- כָל־בָּשָׂר — construct phrase “all flesh,” an idiom for mortal humanity
This is a poetic apposition: מִי + כָל־בָּשָׂר = “Who [among] all flesh…?”
What follows is a long relative clause modifying “who”:
אֲשֶׁר שָׁמַ֣ע קֹול אֱלֹהִים חַיִּים מְדַבֵּר מִתֹּוךְ־הָאֵשׁ — “who has heard the voice of the living God speaking from the midst of the fire…”
- שָׁמַע — Qal perfect 3ms, “he heard”
- אֱלֹהִים חַיִּים — “a living God,” with the adjective in attributive agreement
- מְדַבֵּר — Qal participle, “speaking” — functioning appositionally with “God,” showing continuous or present action
- מִתֹּוךְ־הָאֵשׁ — “from the midst of the fire”
The tension resolves only at the end:
כָּמֹ֖נוּ וַיֶּֽחִי — “like us, and lived?”
- כָּמוֹנוּ — “like us” — emphasizes the shared miraculous experience of the nation
- וַיֶּחִי — “and lived” — wayyiqtol form of חָיָה, delayed for emphasis
Echoes Across the Tanakh
Exodus 20:16 (Hebrew v.19) — אַל־יְדַבֵּ֤ר עִמָּ֙נוּ֙ אֱלֹהִ֔ים פֶּן־נָמֽוּת — “Let not God speak with us, lest we die.” This earlier moment mirrors the fear behind Deut. 5:26’s rhetorical question.
Isaiah 6:5 — אוֹי־לִ֕י כִּ֥י נִדְמֵ֖יתִי… וְאֶת־הַמֶּ֛לֶךְ ה’ צְבָא֖וֹת רָא֥וּ עֵינָֽי — “Woe is me… for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of Hosts.” The encounter with divine presence again leads to expected death — and yet, life.
Deuteronomy 4:33 — הֲשָׁמַ֣ע עָ֗ם ק֤וֹל אֱלֹהִים֙ מְדַבֵּ֣ר מִתּ֣וֹךְ הָאֵ֔שׁ כַּאֲשֶׁ֛ר שָׁמַ֥עְתָּ אַתָּ֖ה וַיֶּֽחִי — Near-identical language, emphasizing that hearing God and living is an anomaly — a miracle framed grammatically.
Syntax in Motion
[מִי כָל־בָּשָׂר] = “Who of all flesh…”
↓
[אֲשֶׁר שָׁמַע קֹול אֱלֹהִים חַיִּים] = “who heard the voice of the living God…”
↓
[מְדַבֵּר מִתּוֹךְ הָאֵשׁ] = “speaking from the midst of the fire”
↓
[כָּמֹנוּ וַיֶּחִי] = “like us — and lived?”
The structure suspends the key verb וַיֶּחִי until the very end, building theological tension. Hebrew often places the critical verb late when dramatic or emotional weight demands it. Here, that delay builds the sense of awe: who can experience this and still live?
When Words Create Worlds
Deuteronomy 5:26 is a verse of reverent marvel. The grammar stretches its clauses long, then lets them fall into a single verb: וַיֶּחִי — “and lived.” This is not a question of curiosity — it is a liturgical gasp, shaped in syntax. By delaying the verb, Hebrew suspends the answer. The miracle lies not in survival, but in the very grammar that tells of it.
This is Biblical Hebrew’s way of saying the unsayable — that humanity touched the untouchable and did not perish. And grammar was the medium that dared to carry that fire.
| Hebrew Feature | Description | Example from Tanakh |
|---|---|---|
| Rhetorical Interrogative | Question form used not to ask, but to express wonder | מִי כָל־בָּשָׂר… וַיֶּחִי (Deut. 5:26) |
| Participial Apposition | Participle used to expand or define a noun | אֱלֹהִים חַיִּים מְדַבֵּר (Deut. 5:26) |
| Verb Delay for Emphasis | Postponing the main verb to create suspense or highlight | וַיֶּחִי (Deut. 5:26) |
The Fire That Did Not Consume
Deuteronomy 5:26 is syntax as sanctum. The grammar hesitates to declare the miracle — and only at the end dares to say it: “and he lived.” In the mouth of the trembling nation, even Hebrew holds its breath. This is not just narrative. It is wonder — grammatical, theological, eternal.
