Confessions of a Secular Jew

My eldest son chose to become religious even though we are a non-religious and secular family.
That complicates family life and relationships... - R 

An Orthodox family on a tour of the Old City of Jerusalem

At 80, R is a charming lady with fascinating thoughts about the Land of Israel, Judaism and the people of Israel. It is especially her eloquence that keeps me glued to her. After her non-religious grandson's rather crisp and merry Bar Mitzvah, we got talking about religion. Though R's mother was an observant Jew, her father turned non-religious and became a pioneer of a kind. He was the first in the family with radical views of 'quitting' religion at a time when religion kept the Jewsish diaspora bound together. He brought up his children with little or no religious influence. Religion was saved for the high-holidays like Yom Kippur. 

Despite her father's views, R was not far removed from religion because the Bible was a mandatory text to be studied throughout her 12 years of schooling. "The Bible has a lot to offer in terms of culture, language and even history; not just religion," she tells me. R tried her best to impart any and every knowledge she had about religion to her sons, not forcefully of course. Her youngest, she says, is not just non-religious, he is anti-religion. Her second son is the moderate kind, he is not vehemently 'anti' at the very least. And her third son, in a manner of speaking, is a sheep that found its way back to the shepherd. He lives with his family in Jerusalem, practicing Judaism as a Modern Orthodox Jew (more about the various shades of Orthodoxy in a separate post). She was quite impressed that her youngest behaved in a civil manner at the synagogue. He does not even own a kippah, if that suffices as a testimony for his anti-religion stance. Replying to her as she gave him a pat, he joked, "Who knows, I could be the next sheep." 

She confesses that having an orthodox member in the family strains relationships within the family (it is same with an orthodox family if a member decides to become secular or even tone down the level of orthodoxy). "My mother would like it that at least one member in the family has gone the religious way," she said, making peace with the situation. But it is because her eldest son is religious that the Bar Mitzvah ceremony was conducted by her eldest and religious grandson. The farther we go from our forefathers, the more dilute religion becomes, she observes. That does not pain her though, she recognises that scientific reasoning trumps blind faith. 

A pilgrim praying at the Western Wall

Having studied the Bible at length, R had the responsibility to coach her non-religious grandson on the Holy Text for a school exam. She commenced the tutoring with genesis and the story of creation. E did not allow her to finish the first sentence even; he was aghast that his grandmother was feeding him some ill-founded story. "God created man? You believe all this?" he asked. Not allowing her to explain herself, he said, "I thought you believed in nature and evolution." As she recounted this incident, I could see that she was proud of her grandson. "I must now pull his leg and ask him why he read verses out of the Torah for his Bar Mitzvah," she whispered to me, with a naughty glint in her eyes. 

Israel is a country of extreme contrasts. It is because of people like R and her family that I feel that there is still hope. 

Ivrit Progress

Yesterday I had my last Ivrit (Hebrew) class of the Spring Semester. I hope to go back for the Summer Semester and learn not just the language but more about the people. When I joined the course in March, three months after I moved to Tel Aviv, I knew nothing of Hebrew. Of course, I could say Hello - Shalom, What's up - Manishma, No - Lo, Yes - Ken, Okay - Biseder and 'English?' - 'Anglit?' These words were more than enough to get by in this rather cosmopolitan city which is also home to a gazillion immigrants. There are those staunch Israelis who will demand you speak in Hebrew, but the vast majority of the population will try to help you if you throw up your hands and just say "anglit?" with a puppy face.

Ten classes helped me overcome inertia and begin learning the language with more zeal. I can now read at a slow pace, I do not remember the entire alphabet, but I do not suppose pattern recognition will take too long to master. What remains the problem with Hebrew is my lack of vocabulary and the small glitch that Hebrew is written without vowels. I might encounter a word that reads (Vowel-placeholder)-S-P-R-S-(Long-Vowel-placeholder), and slowly decrypt it to 'espresso'. Aha moments abound here! Of course they have vowel indicators (dots and dashes under/above/beside/inside letters), but they do not use them. You will only find a long line that indicates that the longer vowel is to be used. For example: My name would be written as 'S-S-Mi-T'. The ee sound with M is indicated, but not the u sound in su. If my name were 'Soosmita', then 'oo' would reflect in the way it is written. Maybe this is why my landlady spells her dog's name (in text messages) thus: Hctor (maybe the 'o' is there because it is pronounced as a long vowel).

It is as if Hebrew evolved into SMS lingo much before mobile phones or even computers for that matter were invented. Even if I recognise the consonants, I never know what the word is, because, I do not know which vowels are present in the word.
I have begged many Israelis to answer one simple question I have about the language - Why No Vowels? Pat come the replies, "Who needs vowels?" "The consonant combinations are unique, so you don't need vowels to tell you how to pronounce the word."
The language has an inherent chutzpah that says - Vowels? For who? (Please go watch Trevor Noah say "Comma? For Who?" in his bit about Jacob Zuma)

My ears now seek out Hebrew words I know. While I was waiting at a bus stop a couple of weeks ago, I totally eavesdropped on a conversation about software development for a start-up that is based in North Tel Aviv! I even use Hebrew at the market these days. With the conviction of a local who wants to bargain, I say, "Cama" or how much. When the price exceeds 30 or a number I know in Hebrew, I walk away. I think the strategy works just fine for me, because I exude confidence when I ask how much, and soon I turn out to be a rude customer who means business. The shopkeeper drops the price to 10 or 15 and I could not be happier about my inadvertent bargaining skills. There is no better way to certify mastery over the language than one's bargaining skills in the language. And, I am killing it!

Hebrew Alphabet

The cursive Hebrew script is very different from the formal script that you will find in newspapers or keyboards. I am yet to make the connection between the cursive letters and the formal ones. That's another drawback, but I am willing to forgive that if they used vowels!

Cursive alphabet (dots are not used)