Editor's Notebook
Community Views
Right Vs. Left Model
A Valid Concept
[
Joys (And Confusion)
Of Yinglish
GARY ROSENBLATT EDITOR
NACHA SARA LEAF SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH NEWS
I read with inter-
est Rabbi David
Nelson's article
"Remembering a
Simpler Time in
Jewish Life" (1-1-
93). He raises a
number of impor-
tant points that
are worthy of further discussion
and understanding. In short,
• the issues that he makes refer-
ence to are relevant to the Con-
servative movement as a whole.
\_ Rabbi Nelson reminisces
about a "gentler and simpler
, time in American Jewish life,"
an era when his uncle Simon,
an Orthodox rabbi, could over-
look essential differences be-
tween Orthodox and Con-
servative worship practices in
, order to pray together as a fam-
ily. He laments that the "climate
• has charged" and attributes this
shift in attitude to "a sense of in-
' timidation that generates from
the move to the right."
It is true that the climate of
Jewish religious life in Ameri-
ca has changed since the period
• he describes. Specifically, it has
• become more polarized. On the
one hand, those who have
moved from traditional Jewish
lifestyles have done so to an ex-
' tent that would previously have
been unthinkable, as evidenced
by the high levels of assimila-
tion and intermarriage we see
today.
On the other side of the coin,
many of those Jews who re-
tained their Orthodox orienta-
tion have become increasingly
conscientious in their obser-
vance of halachic precepts. Fur-
) thermore, the rise of the ba'al
teshuva movement, with its suc-
• cess in attracting growing num-
bers of non-observant Jews to a
life based on Torah and mitzvot,
has contributed immensely to
the trend towards increased re-
) ligiosity.
The model of "right" vs. "left"
/ • that is customarily used to de-
fine political orientation is not
a valid conceptual tool with
which to analyze Jewish reli-
• gious practice. All Jews fall onto
• a continuum of observance;
some of us fulfill more mitzvot,
> others less. The Orthodox Jew
who fills his life with the time-
honored practices of our faith,
\ so comfortable and familiar to
/=' all of our grandparents, should
certainly not be labeled as
"right-wing," a term that to
\, many conjures up pejorative im-
' ages such as repressive, closed-
minded, etc.
Rabbi Nelson claims not to
• understand the "domino theory
of religious practice" wherein "if
Nacha Sara Leaf, a clinical so-
• cial worker, lives in Oak
Park with her husband and
seven young children.
you are liberal then everything
you do is suspect." The Conser-
vative movement's modus
operandus of abandoning cer-
tain foundations of the Torah
(for example, permitting con-
gregants to drive on Shabbat
and yom tov, discontinuation of
the practice of mikvah), has ab-
solutely nothing to do with lib-
eralism. In fact, this practice has
led to an effect that is actually
the opposite of progressive: a
marked deterioration in the
spiritual quality of modem Jew-
ish life and a diminution of Jew-
ish identity.
The author laments that
whatever he does as a rabbi is
"challenged" in certain Ortho-
dox circles, rendering him un-
able to work together with
colleagues of this persuasion in
areas where his religious ideol-
ogy supposedly has no "rele-
vance" to the issues involved.
Suffice it to say that this view-
point shows a lack of under-
standing of the essential values
of his Orthodox co-religionists.
For an observant Jew, Torah
is the "length and breadth" of
our days, and observance of its
precepts constitutes an all-en-
compassing relationship with
the Creator that is manifested
in attitudes, values, and be-
havior. Orthodox-style obser-
vance, then, is not circumscribed
or peripheral. Since it applies at
all times and in all situations,
there is no issue to which it is
not relevant.
The Orthodox rabbis who
choose not to work with Rabbi
Nelson on specific communal is-
sues may appear to be rigid or
intolerant. In reality, their de-
cision is based on the under-
standing that their Con-
servative colleague's opinions
will always be influenced by the
underlying assumption of his
movement, that Halacha is open
for negotiation and revision.
The Torah is referred to as
"living" and "eternal." It does not
step aside and take a back seat
to the myriads of ephemeral
movements and philosophies
that have risen and fallen
throughout the ages. However,
the body of Torah does evolve
and grow through halachic re-
sponsa that relate to countless
issues that arise constantly in
contemporary society. In the fi-
nal analysis, however, all deci-
sions rendered are totally
consistent with the original
principles and tenets. Paradox-
ically, the Torah is at once an-
cient and modern, a timeless
document that serves not only
as the blueprint for creation but
as an operating guide for prac-
tical everyday life.
The basic differences between
the Conservative and Orthodox
viewpoints are obvious, yet
.450t"37,4K-ilvx
there is no reason to react with
hostility or animosity. For just
as Rabbi Nelson's uncle was
able to "bridge differences with
love and respect," so too must
we remember that the practice
of ahavas yisrael, love of fellow
Jew, must be paramount at all
times. Although the ideology or
practices of a particular Jew
may not be acceptable to us, let
us be aware that these are
merely the external garments.
In truth, the essence of every
Jew is his neshama, the divine
soul that inextricably binds him
with his Creator and with the
entire Jewish people.
The bottom line is that as
Jews we are links in a chain
that stretched back to Mt. Sinai,
where we stood together to ac-
cept the Torah, as the biblical
commentator Rashi describes
it, "like one people with one
heart." And just as we are con-
nected by our common past, so
too are we partners in our
shared quest for the future: to
bring the world to a state of ul-
timate perfection through the
redemption and the coming of
the Mashiach, may it be speed-
ily in our days. ❑
When I was a
fourth-grader
back at An-
napolis Ele-
mentary School
in the mid-'50s,
I shared a
"show and tell"
time with my
predominantly non-Jewish
classmates by describing how
I was given spending money
by my parents for Passover
but didn't fargin myself to
buy what I wanted most of
all, a baseball mitt.
If the word "fargin" in that
last sentence gave you pause,
you won't be surprised to
learn that it caught my
teacher's attention as well,
and she came over to me af-
ter my little presentation and
asked me what the word
meant.
I told her it meant, rough-
ly, allowing yourself the lux-
ury of something. She asked
me how it was spelled. I told
her what sounded to be right.
She, in top pedagogic form,
asked me to go over to the big
classroom dictionary and look
up the word and show it to
her.
To my surprise, not only
could I not find the word "far-
gin," which I was certain was
an English word because I
had often heard my parents
and grandparents use it, but
right where "fargin" should
have been, I discovered a
word that I had always
thought was Yiddish — "far-
fetched."
Such are the mysteries of
words that sound like Eng-
lish but are, in fact, Yiddish,
and vice versa — (a phrase
which, upon reflection, cer-
tainly sounds like Yiddish to
me).
I started keeping a list of
English words that, for the
life of me, I thought were Yid-
dish, and I will share a few
with you, suggesting that for
the best results, you read
them aloud and slowly: '
A partial list of my fa-
vorites include: ladle, spatu-
la, stylus, svelte, garnish,
foible, conniption, filch, up-
shot and — my all-time fa-
vorite because it is an actress'
name and I thought it was
some kind of rare disease —
Mitzi Gaynor. (Funnier when
you read it fast, with the ac-
cent on the first syllable,
which come to think of it also
sounds like a Yiddish word to
me.)
My confusion was a direct
result of my spending six
years — seventh through
12th grade — living with my
Yiddish-speaking grandpar-
ents during the school week
while I attended the Tal-
mudical Academy in Balti-
more. My grandfather, a
talmudic scholar, spoke lit-
tle English. My grand-
mother did speak English
and loved to listen to the
sonorous radio voice of
Galen Fromme on WBAL
in the mornings to increase
her vocabulary.
This led to some inter-
esting questions from my
Bubbie as, for example, the
morning I came down for
breakfast and she asked
me where the city of Vicin-
ity was. When I seemed
puzzled, she informed me
that every morning Mr.
Fromme gave the weather
forecast for Baltimore,
Washington and Vicinity,
and she wondered just
where Vicinity was.
A partial list
of English words
that sound
like Yiddish
to me include:
ladle, spatula,
svelte, garnish
and upshot.
And for years I thought
the Yiddish word for
"right," as in the direction,
was "berkow." Why? Be-
cause the instructions from
my Bubbie for operating
the air conditioner in her
bedroom window was that
Off was tzum linkst, or to
the left, and On was tzum
berkow. What took me
years to grasp was that the
next-door neighbor to the
right was named Berkow.
Of course knowing some
Yiddish did have its ad-
vantages. In 11th grade, I
had a European-born rebbe
who, in studying a passage
in the Talmud with us, was
struggling to recall the Yid-
dish word for that yucky
layer of skin you get when
you boil milk. He told us
that he hadn't heard it
since he was a child in the
old country.
When I blurted out, "it's
the ployka," he ran over to
hug me and tears came to
his eyes, he was so happy.
Surely it would have tak-
en away from the moment
to tell him that my Bubbie
had used the word that
morning. Making hot
chocolate for me — who
knew then from instant
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