I tried to not enjoy this book but couldn't help myself. It is a romp of a good time rolled up into a reference book. A summary of Leo Rosten's points and a small sampling of anecdotes and aphorisms follow. I find it personally odd that I had to leave New York for a year in Jerusalem before I discovered this book. One of my colleagues here said the volume was like sacred scripture for him growing up in Brooklyn.
A reference built for lovers of language, culture, and laugh-out-loud witticism, The Joys of Yiddish is two thirds cultural encyclopedia, two thirds joke book, and 100% Yiddish language reference. The serious theses of this book are simple: Yiddish inflects English, and everything else it touches (in this order German [75%], Hebrew, English, Slavic, other, including a fair amount of American cultural references). Thus for Western English speakers, Yiddish is worth the acquaintance if for no other reason than understanding one's own terms better. He writes "Yiddish, 'the Robin Hood of languages.' It has stolen right and left from its richer neighbours, and showed not the slightest hestation in taking in house guests--who never left and were often transformed. A delightful remark, credit to Charles Rappaport, runs: 'I speak ten languages--all of them in Yiddish.'" Of course all languages interact and intermix, but Rosten's case is that Yiddish, ever the language of the home, never that of the nation or scripture, has gainfully survived as an inferior dialect for the last 900 years--a tradition that has also seeded its wild spread and success. He puts it: "Yiddish has long been beset by schism and fevers and ambivalences from within its own community. Jewish purists derided Yiddish for its 'bastard origins,' 'vulgar' idioms, 'hybrid vocabulary'; Hebraicists have long called Yiddish 'uncivilised' cant; German Jews, who despies the Ashkenazi, called Yiddish 'A barbarous argot' and a 'piggish jargon.' (They forgot that English, French, Italian, German, too began as the vernacular of the people.)" Yiddish's strengths, according to Rosten, have historically sprung from many of its supposed weaknesses. Never the language of the nation in which they lived (German, Polish, Russian, Hungarian, Turkish, Greek, etc.), Yiddish was the language of the home--the mama loshen ("mother's tongue"). It has also been distinctly not the "sacred tongue" of the Torah and the Talmud, which has historically been reserved for male learners. Ever in tension with the market place, the street, and several other languages, Yiddish matured in a competitive linguistic environment, coming fully into its own only in the middle of the 19th century. It makes sense, both historically and culturally, that the praises for a scrappy language like this would be well delivered in jokes and anecdotes. Of course, the significance of Yiddish need not be only light-hearted itself: the writer I.L. Peretz once observed mournfully that "Yiddish, the language which will ever bear witness to the violence and murder inflicted on us, bears the marks of our expulsions from land to land, the language which absorbed the wails of the fathers, the laments of the generations, the poison and bitterness of history, the language whose precious jewels are undried, uncongealed Jewish tears." It's a beautiful sentiment, although I fear it sounds a bit overwrought left out of context like this. In any case, if we follow Max Weinreich's snappy phrase, "a language is a dialect--with an army and a navy," then perhaps the purest joy one can take in Yiddish is that it has never really been a language. Or as Isaac Bashevis Singer reminds us that Yiddish may be the only language on earth that has never been spoken by men in power.
With that, here are some anecdotes and jokes that bear repeating, as recorded by Rosten (1968 edition). Some come up in the context of illustrating Yiddish terms (in italics). All rendered here just for the joy of it.
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On folk wisdom:
When a Jewish farmer eats a chicken, one of them is sick. --Folk saying
When a father helps a son, both smile; but when a son must help his father, both cry. --Folk saying
If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I ... And if not now--when? --Hillel
There is a saying: "A potch fargeyt, a vort bashteyt," "A slap passes, but a word (an insult) remains."
"Many complain of their looks, but none complain of their brains." Proverb.
"Which is more important: money or wisdom?
"Wisdom," says the philosopher.
"Ha!" scoffs the cynic. "If wisdom is more important than money, why is it that the wise wait on the rich, and not the rich on the wise?"
"Because," says the scholar, "the wise, being wise, understand the value of money; but the rich, being only rich, do not know the value of wisdom."
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On riddles:
The first riddle I ever heard, one familiar to almost every Jewish child, was propounded to me by my father:
"What is it that hangs on the wall, is green, wet--and whistles?"
I knit my brow and thought and thought, and in final perplexity gave up.
"A herring," said my father.
"A herring?!" I echoed. "A herring doesn't hang on a wall!"
"So hang it there."
"But a herring isn't green!" I protested.
"Paint it."
"But a herring isn't wet."
"If it's just painted, it's still wet."
"But--" I sputtered, summoning all my outrage, "A herring doesn't whistle!"
"Right," smiled my father. " I just put that in to make it hard."
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A joke on the importance of inflection in Yiddish (and English, think Woody Allen):
During a gigantic celebration in Red Square, after Trotsky had been sent into exile, Stalin, on Lenin's great tomb, suddenly and excitedly raised his hand to still the acclamations :"Comrades, comrades! A most historic event! A cablegram --of congratulations--from Trotsky!"
The hordes cheered and chortled and cheered again, and Stalin read the historic cable aloud:
Joseph Stalin
Kremlin
Moscow
You were right and I was wrong. You are the True Heir of Lenin. I should apologize.
Trotsky
You can imagine what a roar, what an explosion of astonishment and triumph erupted in Red Square now! BUt in the front row, below the podium, a little tailor called, "Pst! Pst! Comrade Stalin."
Stalin leaned down.
The tailor said, "Such a message, Comrade Stalin. For the ages! But you read it without the right feeling!"
Whereupon Stalin raised his hand and stilled the throng once more. "Comrades! Here is a simple worker, a loyal Communist, who says I haven't read the message from Trotsky with enough feeling! Come, Comrade Worker! Up here! You read this historic communication!"
So the little tailor went up to the reviewing stand and took the cablegram from Stalin and read:
Joseph Stalin
Kremlin
Moscow
Then he cleared his throat, and sang out:
You were right and I was wrong? You are the true heir of Lenin? I should apologize??!!!..
Trotsky
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On (over-)education:
A nudnik is a pest: a phudnik is a nudnik with a Ph.D.
Jewish dropout: a boy who didn't get his Ph.D. --Anon.
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On the trickiness of relationships:
A wisecrack defines a shadchen as "a marriage broker who knows the perfect girl for you--and married the wrong girl himself."
The two traveling salesmen, competitors in selling notions, spied each other on the platform. "Hello, Liebowitz."
"Hello, Posner."
Silence.
"So--where are you going?" asked LIebowitz.
"To Minsk," said Posner.
Silence.
"Listen, Posner," sighed Liebowitz, who was a very bright shaygets (rascal, mischievous devil), "When you say you're going to Minsk, you want me to think you're going to Pinsk. But I happen to know that you are going to Minsk--so why are you lying?!!"
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On cleverness:
A Jew, crossing the street, bumped into an anti-Semite.
"Swine!" bellowed the paskudnyak (a term of contempt).
"Goldberg," bowed the Jew.
Pincus and Bernstein were walking down a street in Berlin when they saw an SS cop approaching. Only Pincus had an identity card. Bernstein said, "Quick, run! He'll chase you, and I'll get away."
So Pincus broke into a run, and he ran and he ran until he thought his heart would plotz (explode).
"Stop! Stop!" cried the policeman, who finally caught up. "Jew!" He roared. "Show me your papers."
The gasping Pincus produced his papers.
The Nazi examined them and saw they were in order. "But why did you run away?"
"Eh--my doctor told me to run half a mile after each meal!"
"But you saw me chasing after you and yelling! Why didn't you stop?"
"I--thought maybe you go to the same doctor!"