The verb υω (huo) means to rain, and stems from a broadly attested Proto-Indo-European root "wed-" meaning water — hence our English words water and wet, but also the Latin unda (hence to undulate, to wave) and, notably, the noun vitrum, meaning glass. In the Greek classics, our verb υω (huo) is used in the same way as in English (it rains), German (es regnet) and French (il pleut), namely as a third person singular verbal expression that tells of the acts of an unspecified he or it. This verb does not occur in the New Testament — instead the verb βρεχω (brecho) is used — but from it come:

The adjective υγιης (hugies) means healthy, whole or sound — our English adjective "sound" means whole or healthy, and comes from the same Germanic root as the cheerful interjection gesundheit!. All these words are not unlike the sentiments expressed by the familiar Hebrew noun שלום (shalom), which means peace or completeness, and stems from the less familiar verb שלם (shalem), to be or make whole or complete. In the classics our adjective υγιης (hugies) may describe soundness of body as well as of mind (and even, in rare occasions, of opinion, view or logic).

Our adjective ultimately stems from the Proto-Indo-European root "hyugwih", which refers to a good or long life, as it in turn is based on the more fundamental root "hey-", which describes the concept of life or some vital life-force, which in sentiment is not unlike rain (or the whole hydrological cycle, rather) and in form rather reminds of חי (hay), meaning life or living.

Somewhere in the mists of time there arose a Proto-Germanic root "hugiz-", but linguists are for complicated and perhaps somewhat reaching reasons not convinced of a natural bridge to the PIE root "hyugwih". This PG root "hugiz-", however, means mind, thought or understanding, and gave the world the names Hugo, Hugh, Huguenots (from "-genoten", from Dutch for members of a fellowship: mates, as in room-mates), and of course the inescapable English verb to hug (i.e. to embrace, to hold dear, to comfort, to have warm thoughts about).

Our adjective υγιης (hugies), meaning physically whole or mentally sound, also has nothing to do with the verb we discuss above, namely υω (huo), to rain, or its adjective υγρος (hugros), moist, at least not via any technically solid etymology. Poets and others of merry ways are of course more than free to associate whatever they fancy (Matthew 18:18), which is what we here at Abarim Publications suspect the authors of the New Testament did routinely. Our adjective is used 14 times, see full concordance, and from it comes:

The noun υαλος (hualos) means gemstone and describes any sort of natural stone that is glassy or transparent, including αλαβαστρον (alabastron), alabaster, and κρυσταλλος (krustallos) crystal (see next). When people began to manufacture glass, this existing word for see-through stone became applied to it, but that means that where our English word glass denotes something fragile (hence having a glass heart or walking on broken glass) or sharp (glass shards) or smooth (as glass) or nerdy studious (wearing glasses), our word υαλος (hualos) describes a rock-hard stone which was rare and precious and of such miraculous purity that light could shine through it and reveal its every remaining impurity. Our noun describes the strength of natural homogeneity, purity and transparency, the opposite of crumbling multifariousness, secrecy and turbidity.

It's not precisely clear how our noun was formed, but it appears to be related to the Germanic word for amber, which comes from a PIE root "gel-" or "gloana-" to shine or glow (hence also words like gold and Gelb, German for yellow), which confirms that it described natural translucent materials before it came to denote synthetic glass. But that means that our word does not stem from the PIE root "wed-" meaning water, from which comes the verb υω (huo), to rain, and hence the familiar hydro- and hygro- words in English (see above). That's curious, because from this latter PIE root "wed-" came the Latin word vitrum, meaning glass (hence to vitrify). And the suffix "-alis" is a familiar Latin adjective former (think brute, brutal, or pedes, pedal, or rex, regal), which means that in some poetic eyes, our noun υαλος (hualos) could have passed for a word that means "vitrified". And it does. But not because of the Latin sentiments that it seems to convey.

The Hebrew word for glass occurs in Job 28:17 only: it's זכוכית (zekunit), from the verb זכך (zakak), to be bright, clean, pure (of stars, Job 25:5, of Nazirites, Lamentations 4:7, of olive oil, Exodus 27:20). Our noun υαλος (hualos) occurs in the New Testament in Revelation 21:18 and 21:21 only, where it appears to describe a sea of people (rather than a sea with people standing on or near it). From our noun derives:

The noun κρυσταλλος (krustallos) means ice (Il.22.152, Od.14.477) but was in the classics also used to refer to rock crystal (same word), and that was because the ancients indeed considered crystal to be a kind of ice. Verb κρυσταλλομαι (krustallomai) means to freeze, whereas κρυσταλλιζω (krustallizo) means to do like crystal (see next).

It's unclear where this word comes from. There is also a noun κρυος (kruos), cold or frost, which in turn relates to the Latin word crusta, hardened surface or shell, from which English gets the word "crust". But these latter words tend to relate to European words that have to do with horror and bloody mess (Slavic for blood is krev). Then, the -αλλος (-allos) part of our word is unlike anything that occurs natively in Greek. Unlike the vast majority of Greek -allos words, our noun has nothing to do with the familiar adjective αλλος (allos), other, or μαλλος (mallos), wool flock or mat, or φαλλος (phallos), phallus. Instead, like for instance the noun αρυβαλλος (aruballos), a closeable purse or flask, our noun κρυσταλλος (krustallos) was imported from some other language.

It's unclear which language that might have been, but since we here at Abarim Publications are shameless biased toward the Semitic languages (since Greece plus the Greek language literally emerged from interactions with the Phoenicians: see our article on the many Hebrew roots of Greek), we would propose that the -allos part has to do with the אלל ('alal)-cluster, which covers ideas that have to do with sticking out, leading or protruding, or perhaps the verb תלל (talal), to accumulate or repeatedly cover over, whereas the arub- part of the latter word corresponds with either ערב ('arab), to criss-cross (or stitch), or ארב ('arab), to suddenly emergence out of a safe place. The krust- part of our noun κρυσταλλος (krustallos), we would explain by the verb קרר (qarar), to cool off, or the verb קרש (qarash), to become firm or solid, and שוט (sut), to deviate or fall aside. That's not to insist that our noun actually derived from a Semitic phrase that meant "cold weird surface accumulation" but rather that an existing European term of unclear origin and meaning somewhat matched the sound of this Semitic phrase, which caused it to be preserved. This is not unthinkable. As evidenced by certain foreign king names (like Tiglath-pileser), Hebrews scribes loved a good word-joke, and ultimately elevated it to an art form and made it an integral element of their unsurpassed literary skills.

Our noun κρυσταλλος (krustallos), crystal, occurs in the New Testament in Revelation 4:6 and 22:1 only. From it derives: