Mendele: Yiddish literature and language ______________________________________________________ Contents of Vol. 5.167 November 14, 1995 1) Dialects and standards (Larry Rosenwald) 2) Dialects and standards (Shleyme Axelrod) 3) Dialects and standards (Marjorie Schonhaut Hirshan) 1)---------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 06 Nov 1995 15:43:50 -0500 (EST) From: lrosenwald@wellesley.edu Subject: Dialects and standards I read Eliyahu Juni's last posting [5.163] with great interest, but not always with unmixed agreement. I express (and feel) my dissent very tentatively - I know much less about these matters than he does. But the issues are crucial, and worth discussing. 1. At the recent conference on women and Yiddish in New York - which I thought was very inspiring, by the way, and would love to hear other Mendelyaners' opinions of - there was a debate related to this matter - Sharon Kleinbaum, who's the rabbi of Beth Simha Torah in New York, was arguing that a secular commitment to Yiddish will inevitably have to confront the fact that Yiddish is rooted in Hebrew. (She wasn't arguing against such a commitment - she was for a while assistant director to the National Yiddish Book Center - only trying to state what she thought its limitations were.) Then Irena Klepfisz got up and spoke. She's very much committed to a Yiddish-based, secular leftist politics, and these issues mean a lot to her, and she had a lot to say about them. But what I particular remember, in this context, was her statement that though di klasiker - Mendele, Sholem Aleikhem, Perets - in fact write a Yiddish literature that's deeply rooted in Hebrew, many women writers in Yiddish do not. She was talking mostly about the autobiographical literature she's been investigating, I think - and her recent article in _Bridges_ quotes (in Yiddish and in translation) fairly big chunks of that literature, and from what I can remember, what she quotes bears out her assertion. Certainly - to take another, disparate example - the poems of Anna Margolin that I've looked at aren't rooted in Hebrew in the way that Perets stories are. So I guess the claim I'd be advancing here would be that some Yiddish writing can be described the terms Eliyahu Juni is using, but that some cannot. 2. My second claim is actually a little like my first, but concerns not women's writing but another domain, namely that of the Yiddish critical essay. I'm sure there are exceptions to this, but when I read such essays - Glatshteyn's, say, or Ayzland's _Fun unzer friling_ - they seem to me not very deeply rooted in Hebrew either. I don't mean that the writers of the essays weren't so rooted; but their essayistic diction isn't, or isn't always. To quote almost at random, this is the beginning of a Glatshteyn essay called, appropriately enough, "Mendele Moykher Sforim": Tsu mendeles hundertstn geboyrntog hot Shmuel Niger farendikt zayns an artikl mitn fayerlekhn oysruf, "lomir itst lkoved zayn hundertstn geboyrntog lernen a blat mendele moykhe sforim." Az men darf mendelen nisht nor leyenen nor oykh lernen, hobn nokh zayne eyniklakh gevust un farshtanen mit yorn tsurik. Zey hobn zikh glaykh batsoygn tsu zayne bikher vi tsu sfoyrim etc." Now this passage does draw on terms like lernen, and on distinctions like that between bikher and sfoyrim, but one doesn't, to understand such matters, have to go very deeply into the world of Yidishkayt; and the passage feels, to me at least, at least as deeply rooted in a tradition of Germanized academic Yiddish ("academic" not being used as an insult, I should make clear). Or, again: the world of Yiddish-rooted-in-Hebrew is, insofar as I can see the territory, not the only world of Yiddish there is. Larry Rosenwald 2)---------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 10 Nov 1995 10:44:02 -0500 (EST) From: ptyaxel@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu Subject: Dialects and standards I'm pleased that Eliyahu Juni (5.164), who identifies himself as one of the "frimaks" [_frumakes_?] doesn't plan to give up on Mendele, despite what he sees as the unfamiliarity of the modal Mendelyaner with the life and largely loshnkoydesh-derived portion of the lexicon of the khsidish world. (I'm one of those who would fail his vocabulary test, with a score of maybe 20%; even with Weinreich and Harkavy and a couple of dictionaries of hebraisms in Yiddish, I probably won't get a passing grade.) But when he says "You can't divorce Yiddish from Yiddishkayt", seeming to define Yiddishkayt as the result of living precisely that style of life with precisely that lexicon, he comes close to sounding like the exclusionists in the absurd and destructive "Who-is-a-Jew?" controversy of a few years ago. In any case, the statement is not compelling; I can and easily do divorce Yiddish from that kind of Yiddishkayt, though of course I wouldn't presume to banish its practitioners from the ranks of users or lovers of the language. As to the suggestion that the author of the mock interview with Colin Powell just "threw in" the reference to Yom Kippur in a failed attempt to provide some authentic _yidisher tam_ to the joke, I would argue that the _tam_ was provided by the perfectly idiomatic Yiddish in which the interview was conducted. (No surprise there, considering who the reporter was.) I'm grateful, khaver Eliyahu, to be able to learn from you about a subculture that I'm almost totally ignorant of, and especially about its variety of living Yiddish (which, incidentally, no one has ever suggested that you give up; _punkt farkert_.) And I admire your writing style. But please, no more qualifying exams. Shleyme Axelrod Buffalo, New York 3)---------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 10 Nov 1995 12:05:01 -0500 From: shirshan@aol.com Subject: Dialects and standards Topic: The Secular Jews, Sarah's Children Too I have just returned from Chicago and, in one fell swoop, read all of Eliyahu Juni's recent postings (157, 163 and 4). A sheynem, reynem dank, Eliyahu, for inviting us over your fence, but won't you spend a few minutes in my secular, unfenced garden (much smaller and newer than your vast plantation), yet here apples and oranges, pomegranates and even dates grow. Here, all are welcome. Here, the plantings were tenderly and carefully dug into fertile, beloved soil by our parents, secular Jews who were deeply religious. Their sanctifications include learning (tzu zayn gebildet), social justice, mentshlekhkayt, a Yiddish hartz, a sense of community, and Yiddish, the same Mame Yidish that has brought us together here, in the land of Mendele. Never would the secular Jew deny that knowing religion and customs and traditions make language (and life!) more meaningful, but one need not live and breath every pintele that one studies. If words have been lost in discarding the religion, much has been gained in their stead. The secular Jews' pilpul was of politics, personalities, poetry or newspapers. (The Forverts, the Frayhayt or the Tog (the Morgn Journal was for my old, religious grandparents), right wing or left wing, Yoshe Kalb, Maurice Schwartz, Jacob Adler, Norman Thomas or Earl Browder, Trotsky or Karl Kautsky, and the Scottsboro Boys, Tom Mooney, Yehoash's Tenakh in Yiddish..... Like the Khasidim today, they indulged in passionate parenting aiming for an unconditional love from us, aiming at contagion in attitudes (as John Dewey said: attitudes must be caught, not taught). They carrried us on their shoulders at May Day parades, wheeled us in strollers at Union meetings (and immigrants did gain a living wage), took us to listen as they created plans for medical benefits, funeral plots, summer camps, all in their beloved Yiddish. They took us to see King Lear in Yiddish, read Veblen to us in Yiddish. We learned to support everything Yiddish and Jewish, for every Jew around the globe was a sister, a brother. And they formed the shulas for us - in basements, in each other's homes. Life was around the shula (Yiddish school) where in the late thirties, they found the $2 monthly tuition for my sister and for me, girl-children being educated, equal to the guys studying elsewhere for Bar Mitzvah. The shula would create the goldene keyt of Yiddishkayt that they loved so dearly. Here we celebrated holidays, held banquets like feasts to hear children recite in Yiddish, to hear speakers tell of brave new worlds where all men would be equal and clothed and fed through their right to work. And the singing, the hundreds of songs we learned and loved. My father had a khush, a way of creating a feeling of yontef in our home before every shula event. Dressing, haircombing, preparing were as exciting as some of the celebrations and concerts. They taught us to stand tall and how to be a minority within a minority; their emphasis was peoplehood. "Nu Mirl," my mother always greeted me, "vos hostu haynt oyfgeton far zikh? un vos hostu optgeton far undzer Yidish folk?" And so, today, I lead a Yidish Vinkl, a Yiddish Club, organize Holocaust memorials, programs to partake of the goldene kayt or work for the international Yiddish conference, etc. So, Eliyahu, Reb Zellig scheduled an "interview" on Sucos and I learned only today what asheryotsar means. To me the word Yiddishkayt always meant more than the cold English word Judaism. Yiddishkayt is that hartzik, love-filled totality, the entire culture around Yiddish - the culture of the raggedy shtetl where my parents lived; the Yiddish standardized or non-standardized speaker, writer, and lover; the scholar, the linguist and the lover of Second Avenue ditties; the Jewish Labor Committee; the concept of Tzedakah with its root in justice.... Together we must see to it, Eliyahu, that there's room for all of us, for those who choose to 'whisper a prayer', and for those that choose to 'sing a song of peace with a great shout'. Would that Yigal Amir (and all the fanatics who hate) had caught that attitude at somebody's knee, that glorious lesson that each of us is free to choose. Marjorie Schonhaut Hirshan Boynton Beach, Florida ______________________________________________________ End of Mendele Vol. 5.167