THE CASE FOR HEBREW MASTERY

BY DR. RUTH R. WISSE
Wisse photo by Jon Chase/Harvard News Office
Group photo by Michelle N. Remeny

A strong proponent of the NETA Hebrew language initiative, Dr. Ruth R. Wisse is a member of Hebrew College's National Board and a trustee of The AVI CHAI Foundation. Martin Professor of Yiddish Literature at Harvard University, Wisse is also Professor of Comparative Literature and Harvard College Professor, and a former president of the Association of Jewish Studies. Her most recent publication is The Modern Jewish Canon: A Journey Through Language and Culture (University of Chicago Press, 2003).

The following essay is excerpted from Wisse's remarks to 20 principals from leading Jewish day middle and high schools across the country at the NETA Principals' Forum at Hebrew College on November 11, 2003. NETA is a state-of-the-art Hebrew language curriculum designed for students in grades 7 to 12, created by Hebrew University curriculum specialists, administered by Hebrew College and supported by The AVI CHAI Foundation.

THE HEBREW ADVANTAGE
At the mundane level, I can attest to the practical advantage of Hebrew at the university where I teach. In a country as monolingual as America, knowledge of languages is bound to be highly valued. This is reflected in the admissions process. As opposed to your average American teenager, most students accepted into Harvard are fluent in a second language, which is very often the language of their native culture. Students who enter Harvard with proficiency in Hebrew can place out of the language requirement and get credit for the foreign cultures requirement by taking courses that require a reading knowledge of Hebrew. Bible is one of the most popular subjects at Harvard. Students with Hebrew have access to advanced rather than introductory courses.

Some Jewish parents who recognize the value of knowing several languages make the mistake of thinking that Hebrew would be a parochial choice. If they are going to teach their children a second language, they think they can do better with French or Spanish or Chinese. In the contemporary atmosphere of multiculturalism, it is they who reflect a parochial attitude. Today's emphasis on multiculturalism assumes that people belong to some ethnic group or other. The more of its equipment a person carries, the more confident he or she can be.

THE DEMOCRATIC ADVANTAGE
In the practical experience of being a Jew, Hebrew plays an even more important role in building confidence. Knowing Hebrew is like knowing how to drive. You can take the car out any time and go wherever you like in Jewish Studies, in exploring the Land of Israel and its culture, in plumbing Jewish history. Being without Hebrew means always having to rely on a tour guide. Proficiency in Hebrew is the democratizing force in modern Jewish life. Egalitarian Judaism—no matter in what denomination or sphere—begins with equal access to Hebrew. It is the key to Jewish self-sufficiency.

THE DISTINCTIVENESS OF HEBREW
All too often, the distinctiveness of the Jewish people is debated around the question of the Holocaust, as though the destruction of the Jews were the prism through which we wanted to claim our uniqueness. Actually, the ability of the Germans and their assistants to destroy most of the Jews of Europe says more about their distinctiveness than it does about ours. But the record of the Hebrew language really is unique, and it helps to explain the nature of the Jewish people.

Some time after the Jews returned from their Babylonian captivity and resumed their national life in Eretz Israel, Ezra instituted the custom of publicly reading the Bible with commentary in Aramaic, the local vernacular. As this custom was continued in later generations, the rabbis also required universal education, so that the majority of the Jews could read the Torah and pray in Hebrew, no matter where they lived and no matter what other languages they might adopt. Jews have spoken dozens if not hundreds of different languages in the course of their history. They also created quite a number of languages, such as Ladino and Yiddish. The Yiddish language in particular generated a remarkable culture and was spoken by millions of Jews on several continents. This attests to the ability of Jews to adapt to a variety of different cultural environments, but they only remained adaptable because they were so secure in their commitment to the Torah as they had received it. The custom of studying Bible remained as Ezra had instituted it—moving from the original Hebrew to the local vernacular, which made it clear that Hebrew was the constant in Jewish history while other languages might be subject to change.

The centripetal force of Hebrew produced a remarkable irony at the end of the 19th century. Young Jews who pioneered a modern national movement based on a strictly secular ideology could claim Hebrew as the language of the modern Jewish people even while casting aside the religious basis of their identity. They argued for Hebrew as the only language that united Jews from all countries of the dispersion. Though many European Jews wanted to continue speaking German or Yiddish, the leaders of the yishuv persuaded their fellow Jews that they would have to bring Hebrew up to date: Hebrew was the only language that united Jews diachronically and synchronically, through time and space. Although some religious Jews still refuse to "debase" Hebrew by using it as a daily language, the common language has helped to break down the barrier between the religious and the secular. Realizing its power, the Soviet Union banned the use of Hebrew in its war against the Jewish religion and Jewish nationhood. Thus when Soviet Jews began to fight for their liberation, they studied Hebrew as the mark of their defiance.

Now that Hebrew has become the language of Israel, we take its revitalization for granted. To appreciate how miraculous its renaissance once seemed, I recommend the novel The Second Scroll by the Canadian writer and poet A.M. Klein (1909–1972). The novel is set shortly after the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. The narrator, a man very much like Klein himself, is sent to Israel by his publisher to compile an anthology of its best poets. He conducts the appropriate interviews, but in looking for the finest creative works, he uncovers a much deeper source of creativity:

They were not members of literary societies, the men who were giving new life to the antique speech, but merchants, tradesmen, day laborers. In their daily activity, and without pose or flourish, they showed it to be alive again, the shaping Hebrew imagination. An insurance company, I observed as I lingered in Tel Aviv's commercial center, called itself Sneh—after Moses' burning bush, which had burned and burned but had not been consumed. Inspired metaphor, born not of the honored laureate, but of some actuary, a man of prose! A well-known brand of Israeli sausage was being advertised, it gladdened my heart to see, as Bashan—just tribute to its magnum size, royal compliment descended from Og, Bashan's giant king. A dry-cleaner called his firm Kesheth, the rainbow, symbol of cessation of floods! An ice-cream organization, Kortov, punned its way to custom-fissioning kortov, a drop, to kor-tov, cold and good!

As well as delighting in the genius of the Israeli public, Klein appreciated that the rebirth of Hebrew was unique in the history of language. There is no other known case of a language that was relegated to a high status function, as were Latin or Sanskrit, being brought back into use as a living language. Modern Jews seemed to realize that in order to resume their national existence in their ancestral homeland they would not only have to gather in the Jews, but also to gather up their common heritage. As the language of the Torah, Hebrew was imbued with its spirit. Hebrew combined the religious and national sources of Jewish existence. Hebrew was so important to the Jews that they had always used its alphabet when writing their other languages, Judeo-Arabic, Judeo-Persian, Ladino or Yiddish. They had always believed in its sanctity. Now they demonstrated its vitality.

Israelis who do their laundry lists in Hebrew may become understandably blasé about the dynamism of their language. Those who acquire Hebrew are in a better position to share Klein's excitement over its versatile adaptation to changing needs.

NOTHING LESS THAN EXCELLENCE
I've tried to show the practical advantage of Hebrew, its democratizing function, its linguistic uniqueness. But the value of Hebrew depends on mastery of the subject. You possess a language only when you reach a certain level of fluency.

Some subjects in the school curriculum don't have to prove their value. Students know they have to learn to count. Most of them realize that it helps to know Shakespeare and American history. Biology and physics are part of universal education.

But when it comes to Hebrew, which isn't part of the general curriculum, which parents usually don't speak or read and which isn't reinforced by the surrounding culture, the sense of urgency must be communicated by the school and the teachers. The school can best communicate the value of Hebrew by its commitment to mastery of the subject.

Unless students are expected to become proficient in Hebrew, they have little incentive to make the effort. Either it is necessary to know the language, in which case one has to ensure that the students know it, or it isn't necessary for them to know it, in which case, why teach it? If there is no imperative to know Hebrew well, students will conclude that they are being toyed with. A casual attitude and low expectations demean them as students and discredit the subject. Teachers may want to explain to students why Hebrew is necessary to them, but the best explanation is communicated through the goals that are set for them. If they are expected to master the language, they will conclude that it is critical for their welfare. If they are simply expected to learn a few phrases, they may be justified in not caring to learn it at all.

Exams and standards are important in setting goals, but the real test is whether students feel they have a stake in the subject. They have to want to become Hebrew "drivers," not passengers in someone else's car. No graduates will ever be grateful for a partial education that leaves them feeling their inadequacies. They will honor the Jewish school that makes them competent Jews.

Access to Hebrew makes for a self-sufficient Jew. The presence of such Jews would transform the American Jewish community.

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