The noun σκοτος (skotos) means darkness or gloom. In the Iliad, this word always describes the darkness of death. In other classics, this word could describe the darkness of the netherworld (or even the womb), or describe blindness, dizziness, obscurity or ignorance. The noun σκοτια (skotia) describes an instant of darkness (see below).

This word is also the same as the ethnonym Scotsman (spelled Σκωτος or alternatively σκοτος), possibly because of the notorious Scottish weather or long winters, and possibly because those who migrated there were considered rather dim by people who didn't. That this distinction may not be wholly fair, or even remotely true, is explained in the books How the Scots Invented the Modern World — The True Story of How Western Europe's Poorest Nation Created Our World & Everything in It, Arthur Herman, 2001, and When Scotland was Jewish — DNA evidence, Archeology, Analysis of Migrations, and Public and Family Records Show Twelfth Century Semitic Roots, Elizabeth Caldwell Hirshman and Donald N. Yates, 2007.

Our word σκοτος (skotos) stems from the Proto-Indo-European root "(s)keh-", meaning darkness or shadow (indeed, hence the English words shade and shadow).

Contrary to common perception, darkness is not the opposite of light but the absence of it. And since light and enlightenment go hand in hand, ignorance is also not the opposite of wisdom but the absence of it. And ultimately, hate is not the opposite of love but the absence of it.

Light is substantial, but darkness is not. Light comes from a source, but darkness does not. Light consists of colors, but darkness does not. Light conveys information, but darkness does not. Light (or more specifically: photonic energy) comes before all things and holds all things — all things; all material things, all living things and all societies — together (Colossians 1:17). Light gives life, and darkness does not. Light and darkness relate like fullness and emptiness, and both stem from the same Creator, namely YHWH, "the One forming light and creating darkness, causing peace (שלום, shalom) and creating evil (רע, ra')" (Isaiah 45:7).

Sometimes darkness is not the result of a thing being dark, but rather of an inability of an observer to recognize light (Matthew 10:27). If a source of light is hidden from view by blindness, the result is darkness. This makes our noun σκοτος (skotos) in some way related to the noun μυστηριον (musterion), or mystery: something hidden.

The Hebrew word for to flow (what a river does) is the same as for to shine (what a lamp does), namely נהר (nahar), which means that the ancients were aware of what later would be called Special Relativity.

Our noun σκοτος (skotos), meaning darkness, is used 32 times in the New Testament, see full concordance, and from it derive:

Like the above, the noun ζοφος (zophos) also means darkness or obscurity, specifically of the netherworld or of oblivion. It's slightly rarer than the above, but in the classics this word could likewise describe general darkness and gloom: of night (Od.3.335, 9.26, 10.190), winter, mood or fate.

In 2 Peter 2:17 and Jude 1:13 this noun ζοφος (zophos), obscurity, occurs in close proximity of the noun σκοτος (skotos), darkness (see above), so as to explain that obscurity is an aspect of darkness (darkness obscures but not all obscurity comes from darkness).

Notably, our noun ζοφος (zophos) could refer to the western or northern "obscure quarter" (Od.13.241), reached by flying "left" (Il.12.240) rather than "right" (δεξιος, dexios) toward the dawn (αυριον, aurion, hence names like Austria and Australia, the geographic opposite of Scotland; see above).

A term that is related to our noun is Ζεφυρος (Zephuros), Zephyrus, the deified and positive west wind (counterpart of the vilified Eurus, or east wind). But the origin of both these words is formally obscure.

Here at Abarim Publications we suspect that these words are ultimately Semitic, and were imported into Greek along with the alphabet. A root that immediately jumps to mind is צפה (sapa), to cover or to look out, and thus the verb צפן (sapan), to hide or store up, and the noun צפון (sapon), meaning north.

But this also implies that our noun declares not merely an absence of light, but rather a covering or even protecting, of something that is thus locally hidden from sight by some covering of sorts. That relates our word in essence to the familiar noun μυστηριον (musterion), meaning mystery, from the verb μυω (muo), to cover. Likewise the word "apocalypse", literally meaning discovery, comes from the verb καλυπτω (kalupto), to wrap or cover.

Our noun ζοφος (zophos), darkness, is used 4 times; see full concordance.

The noun αχλυς (achlus) appears to have originally denoted dark, wet weather, and derived from a weakly attested PIE root "heglu-", meaning mist, rain or dark weather, which appears to be a specialization of the much more common PIE root "heg-", meaning to be upset or afraid, hence αχος (achos), pain, from which English gets the word "ache". An identical second PIE root "heg-", which may also be the same one, means to drive, hence the verb αγω (ago), to lead or guide.

But whatever its pedigree, as far back as Homer, our word αχλυς (achlus), came to be associated with a "foul fog", sweeping in after sunset (Od.20.357), or at impending death: "The breath of life left him, and over his eyes a mist was shed" (Il.5.969). Notably, this death-mist only heralds the fear, weakness and darkness of death, but sufferers from this death-mist usually bounce back when the mist lifts. In the words of green-eyed Athena: "The mist that was over your eyes I have taken away to let you clearly distinguish a god from a mortal" (Il.5.127, also see 15.668).

Most remarkably, this death-mist, of fear-of-death mist called αχλυς (achlus) descends on the Greek champion Achilles (Αχιλλευς, Achilleus; Il.20.321), whose dominant opponent, the Trojan prince and future ancestor or Rome's royalty, Aeneas is whisked away by Poseidon, who tells him: "You may be stronger but Achilles is better loved by both gods and the mortals. You can't kill him now, but you can fight him when you are both in Hades." When the mist lifts from Achilles (20.341), Aeneas is nowhere to be seen (and one can almost hear Achilles say: see you in hell, old foe — but for now I will lead the Hellenes and level Troy).

Our word occurs in the New Testament in Acts 13:11 only, where Paul uses it to blind Elymas, the false prophet in service of Sergius Paulus, at Paphos on Cyprus. As we discuss in our article on Sergius, author Luke clearly catered to the literary sophistication of his Greco-Roman audience, and certainly expected his audience to be familiar with Homer's use of our noun.

The noun ορφνη (orphne) means darkness, either of the night or of the netherworld. This word is not used in the New Testament, but we list it here because of its resemblance to the noun ορφανος (orphanos), orphan (see next). Whether these words are etymologically linked is unclear but that is mostly because the etymology of our present word ορφνη (orphne) is unclear. And that is probably mostly due because in the Greco-Roman mind, there is no link between being an orphan and being dead. There is one in Hebrew, since the primary function of the house-father was not to generate offspring but to govern them with legislation — and this is precisely why Paul could state "you were dead in your trespasses and sins" (Ephesians 2:1). The entirety of the father's estate, or that-which-is-governed, adds up to the wife, in whom is summarized all "sons" and all economic goings on (hence Proverbs 31:10-31). That means that in Hebrew, an orphan is not so much someone without physical parents, but rather someone without a legislative government (father) and cohesive culture (mother).

As said, the etymology of our noun ορφνη (orphne) is unclear, especially when we assume that it has nothing to do with ορφανος (orphanos), orphan. When we abandon that assumption, we might note the striking similarity with the Hebrew word רפיון (rippayon), meaning a sinking (of hands: Jeremiah 47:3), from the verb רפה (rapa), to sink down. From that same verb comes the plural noun רפאים (repai'm), which denotes the difficult idea of ghosts of the dead or shades: the sunken ones, or those who dwell in the netherworld. And from that word comes the name Rephaim or Sunken Ones.

From this noun ορφνη (orphne) derive the adjectives ορφνος (orphnos), meaning dark (a synonym of σκοτεινος, skoteinos, see above) and ορφνινος (orphninos), which denotes a grey or brownish hue. None of these words occur in the New Testament.

The adjective ορφανος (orphanos) means orphaned, or when used substantively, orphan (same word), which is someone without parents (John 14:18 and James 1:27 only). In the Greek world, someone whose mother was alive but whose father wasn't (or was gone) was also considered an orphan, since a mother by herself had very little means to make a living and would soon sell herself into slavery. Women also had no access to information, so a man could only get an education from another man. This means that an orphan would remain uneducated, or unenlightened: dark.

It must be remembered that in the old world, there was no such thing as freedom as we know it today. A man was either an estate holder, or he worked on someone else's estate. Only the owner of the estate was considered a "free man" and any other people living on his estate (wife, sons, slaves) were his legal property. Someone who neither owned land nor lived on someone's land was literally an outlaw who could only live in the uncultivated wilderness, where any wild animal or bandit could attack them. And since humanity is a learned skill, such a person's mind would never be made alive with human speech and thoughts and arts and sophistication, and he would remain human-dead and alive only as equal to the beasts (Psalm 73:22, Ecclesiastes 3:18, 2 Peter 2:12, Jude 1:10).

Our word ορφανος (orphanos) corresponds to the Proto-Indo-European root "herb-", to change ownership, which is also the source of the familiar Latin word orbis, orbit, and the German Arbeit, meaning labor. That is significant because the Greek word for evil, namely πονηρος (poneros), derives from the verb πενομαι (penomai), meaning to toil or labor. Above, in the paragraph on the noun ορφνη (orphne), darkness, we propose a link with the Hebrew verb רפה (rapha), to sink or fall, and the noun רפאים (repai'm), ghosts or fallen ones.

Also see our article on the adjective νοθος (nothos), meaning slave-born, illegitimate or spurious. From our noun ορφανος (orphanos), orphan, derives:

The noun ομβρος (ombros) describes a storm, and specifically a rainstorm rather than, say, a sand-storm: a storm that involves a lot of rain and darkness, mostly at sea, often sent by Zeus (Iliad.5.91, 10.6, 11.493). The origin of our word isn't obvious but it either relates to or shares its inspiration with the Latin word umbra, shadow, from which English gets words like umbrella and even sombrero (shadow-maker) and the adjective somber.

Indo-European doesn't really have a proper root that could explain this group of words, and some commentators have pointed toward the Semitic root h-m-r from which stems the verb חמר (hamar), meaning to begin to slowly flow and in the process turning things a deep red: the color of sun-rise, metal that starts to melt, grapes that start to ripen, and so on (see our articles on συκον, sukon, fig, and red-names like Adam and Red Sea). Noun חמר (hemar) describes bitumen or naturally seeping tar and חמר (homer) refers to reddish clay or natural cement. The denominative verb חמר (hamar) means to smear with mud or asphalt. Noun חמור (hamor) is one of a few words for donkey, which had become a symbol for the beginning of human civilization, trade and civilian transport.

An even more attractive root, however, is עמר ('amar), meaning to grip or bind or deal tyrannically with. It tells of being in the grip of something, which may vary from some gripping story or some compelling religion of some terrifying overlord. Or, of course, a gripping storm. Noun עמר ('omer) describes a sheaf, which is a bundle of grain stalks bound closely together in a bundle. Note that the familiar name Gomorrah stems from this verb.

Our noun ομβρος (ombros) occurs in the New Testament in Luke 12:54 only.