This past week, in a class dealing with Jewish weddings, one of my students at Boston College was reading an English text that included the Hebrew word huppah (pronounced as “hoopah” meaning, “[wedding] canopy”). He innocently pronounced it as “tchoopah” because the transliteration in front of him had “chuppah.” I smiled and corrected him. He is not alone. Most Americans, upon seeing the letters “ch”, pronounce it as “tch” like “Churchill” or “charity.” That is why I find the rendition of the Hebrew letter het (ח) as “ch” absolutely silly!
Hebrew is a west-Semitic language, which contains a number of letters that cannot easily be transliterated for lack of equivalencies. To resolve this problem, many systems have been devised to reproduce as close as possible the sound of Hebrew letters into English or other European languages. Among them the one created by the Society of Biblical Literature or the Academy of the Hebrew Language is well known to scholars and popular writers; none of them, however, is adequate or totally correct. They are often cumbersome and not always user-friendly.
Today, most Jews, unless they are of Arabic speaking countries, do not pronounce the letter het, a strong guttural coming from the back of the throat, differently from any another hard “h” like the English “hot” or “Humphrey.” Its sound would be close to the German “ch” as in “buch” [pronounced as “booh, meaning “book”] or “Achtung” [pronounced as “ahtoong, meaning “attention”), and in Spanish, like the “j” in Juan.”
Many American publications follow the German method, and transliterate het as “ch.” But this method often ends up being funny for a western reader. For example, the Hebrew/Yiddish word for “friends/company” is hevre, and is often romanized as “chèvre;” but that means “goat” in French. The Hebrew word for “festival” is hag, but it is usually transliterated as “Chag;” this sounds like the song my granddaughter, almost three, sings, “Toot toot chugga chugga big red car.” The Hebrew hai means “life” but when rendered as “chai” it reminds me of “Çay”[pronounced as "tchai"], a Turkish word meaning “tea.” Recently, in a discussion about Jewish circumcision, one of my students kept saying “tchi-toosch,” until I realized that he meant hittukh (meaning, “cutting”), because the text he had in his hand read “chituch.” I don’t think you can say with a straight face “chidush” for the Hebrew word hiddush (“novelty”). This is absurd.
So, I am, once again, starting a campaign to drop the silly “ch” from the system of transliteration. I tried before but was not able to get the attention of key people in the publishing industry. Using “h” for the letter het may not be the best solution but at least an American reader will be able to read it closer to the way in which it is pronounced by a Hebrew speaking person today. In my work, I render the letter "het" as "h" and the latter "kaf'/khaf" as "kh." Hence, for instance, I prefer Hanukah to “Chanukah” (it is not ‘tcha-nukah); hayyim (“life”) to "chayyim,” "barukh" to "baruch,"or hasid (“pious”) to “chasid.”
Hopefully, I made my point. Please drop the silly “ch!”
Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
RESPECT FOR TEACHERS
At Boston College I am usually called, “Professor” or “Rabbi.” (Once, I was even called “Father”--Well, I teach in a Catholic College!). However, recently, one of my students wrote me an email addressing me as “Hey.” In another case, a student sent me a note that began with “Dear Rifat.” I was surprised and taken aback. Who are these bad-mannered individuals who dare to address a teacher “Hey” of by his first name? What kind of an upbringing did they have from their parents and other adults? Newspapers often report on how some students disrespect their instructors in the public schools. There is even as association called National Association for Prevention of Teacher Abuse (NAPTA); that is, for abuse by students.
I grew up in a community that demanded high respect for elders and teachers. When I was in High School in Istanbul, we used to stand up when the teacher walked into the classroom. Even in Law School, when the professor entered the lecture hall, the entire class stood on its feet. We never addressed our teachers by their first name. Later on, when I was at the rabbinic seminary and then at my graduate school, we always called our professors by their title. Even now, after so many years, I still call my former teachers, some of whom are my age and a few younger than me, by their academic titles; never by their first name. That does not mean that I liked or loved all my instructors. In fact, some I did not care for, others I feared, and a few I could not stand. But there were others, maybe five or six, who had tremendous influence in my life, and I am who I am because of them. But I always treated all my mentors with respect. That is what I was taught.
Rabbinic literature urges every individual to find a mentor: “Get yourself a teacher” (Avot 1:6). “Revere your teacher as you revere Heaven,” says another source (Avot: 4:15 end). Ancient Rabbis place a teacher on a higher plane than a parent. Thus, they argue, if one finds a lost article belonging to a parent and another to a teacher, the teacher’s article must be returned first” (BM 33a). Though the honor due a teacher is a given in rabbinic literature, the sages also state that the teacher needs to earn this trust and respect: “Let the honor of your disciple be as dear to you as your own,” states one Rabbi (Avot: 4: 15a).
As a teacher I try to emulate the best of my mentors, because I realize that by teaching I am also molding my students’ character. What a high responsibility! I hope you too will always remember your favorite teachers, and bless their name every day.
Rifat Sonsino
I grew up in a community that demanded high respect for elders and teachers. When I was in High School in Istanbul, we used to stand up when the teacher walked into the classroom. Even in Law School, when the professor entered the lecture hall, the entire class stood on its feet. We never addressed our teachers by their first name. Later on, when I was at the rabbinic seminary and then at my graduate school, we always called our professors by their title. Even now, after so many years, I still call my former teachers, some of whom are my age and a few younger than me, by their academic titles; never by their first name. That does not mean that I liked or loved all my instructors. In fact, some I did not care for, others I feared, and a few I could not stand. But there were others, maybe five or six, who had tremendous influence in my life, and I am who I am because of them. But I always treated all my mentors with respect. That is what I was taught.
Rabbinic literature urges every individual to find a mentor: “Get yourself a teacher” (Avot 1:6). “Revere your teacher as you revere Heaven,” says another source (Avot: 4:15 end). Ancient Rabbis place a teacher on a higher plane than a parent. Thus, they argue, if one finds a lost article belonging to a parent and another to a teacher, the teacher’s article must be returned first” (BM 33a). Though the honor due a teacher is a given in rabbinic literature, the sages also state that the teacher needs to earn this trust and respect: “Let the honor of your disciple be as dear to you as your own,” states one Rabbi (Avot: 4: 15a).
As a teacher I try to emulate the best of my mentors, because I realize that by teaching I am also molding my students’ character. What a high responsibility! I hope you too will always remember your favorite teachers, and bless their name every day.
Rifat Sonsino
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
FACEBOOK AND OTHERS
Many people have asked me, “How come you are on Facebook?” “Aren’t you afraid of giving important information about your private life to the world at large?” Here is my answer: I had no intention of getting into Facebook until the leadership of the Central Conference of American Rabbis (Reform) began to use it in order to give out a few details about last year’s national convention in Israel. If I wanted to know what was happening at these meetings, I had to go to Facebook. I did, and stayed. Similarly, I signed up for Twitter in order to find out what was going on during the popular uprising in Tehran last year. It was uncensored, immediate and heart-wrenching. (I no longer spend much time in Twitter unless there is a major event around the world). I also use Skype to communicate with my friends and family in Spain, Israel, Turkey and Argentina.
A social network such as Facebook comes handy because it allows me to connect with people I care but live far away from me. (I live in the Boston area). That is how I learned about the birth of my cousin’s twins in New York; that is how I comment on aspects of Jewish life to my friends in Barcelona; that is how I respond to queries raised to me from Buenos Aires; that is how I touch base with my Law School friends in Istanbul and Luxemburg. It is quick, personal and effective.
In the biblical world, and until recently, friends and family members lived in the same neighborhood for a long time. People rarely moved- if ever- unless forced by nature or enemies. When the Bible states, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself’ (Lev. 19:18), or when Ben Sira writes, “Help your neighbor according to your ability” (29:20), the reference, I believe, is to your next-door friend, or at least, to the member of the same community. It does not mean to your fellow human being. That interpretation came much later when the world got larger through travel, relocation or migration. That is where we are today.
Most of us move constantly from one place to another, willingly or by necessity. In my professional career I have already relocated at least six times, not to mention a move from Istanbul to Cincinnati, or Buenos Aires to Philadelphia. Only one of my high school friends lives in Turkey now. Just a few of my classmates from Law School have remained in Istanbul. Every single colleague from my seminary days in Cincinnati, OH or graduate school in Philadelphia, PA has moved away, and can be found in different parts of the world. How do you keep in touch with them? If keeping bonds are important to you-as they are to me-you have no other choice but to sign up for a social network to renew and maintain long standing friendships. Just don’t give out your social security number.
Rifat Sonsino
A social network such as Facebook comes handy because it allows me to connect with people I care but live far away from me. (I live in the Boston area). That is how I learned about the birth of my cousin’s twins in New York; that is how I comment on aspects of Jewish life to my friends in Barcelona; that is how I respond to queries raised to me from Buenos Aires; that is how I touch base with my Law School friends in Istanbul and Luxemburg. It is quick, personal and effective.
In the biblical world, and until recently, friends and family members lived in the same neighborhood for a long time. People rarely moved- if ever- unless forced by nature or enemies. When the Bible states, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself’ (Lev. 19:18), or when Ben Sira writes, “Help your neighbor according to your ability” (29:20), the reference, I believe, is to your next-door friend, or at least, to the member of the same community. It does not mean to your fellow human being. That interpretation came much later when the world got larger through travel, relocation or migration. That is where we are today.
Most of us move constantly from one place to another, willingly or by necessity. In my professional career I have already relocated at least six times, not to mention a move from Istanbul to Cincinnati, or Buenos Aires to Philadelphia. Only one of my high school friends lives in Turkey now. Just a few of my classmates from Law School have remained in Istanbul. Every single colleague from my seminary days in Cincinnati, OH or graduate school in Philadelphia, PA has moved away, and can be found in different parts of the world. How do you keep in touch with them? If keeping bonds are important to you-as they are to me-you have no other choice but to sign up for a social network to renew and maintain long standing friendships. Just don’t give out your social security number.
Rifat Sonsino
Sunday, February 14, 2010
ALMOST JOBLESS
I have been teaching at Boston College for the last ten years on a part-time basis, two electives in the Fall and two electives in the Spring semester, and I love it. Even while working as a congregational rabbi, I was on the faculty of BC, and after my retirement in 2003, I devoted more time and energy to my teaching. It kept my mind alert and, twice a week, it gave me something to look forward. This Fall, however, I faced a challenge unlike any other. Because of budget restrictions, the College began to review its policy with regard to electives taught by non-tenured professors like me, and I feared my position would be cut.
For a few weeks I contemplated the possibility that I may not be able to teach again. At age 71, I don’t want to work full time, nor do I need it financially. In the past, as a synagogue Rabbi, I counseled many people who had lost jobs, and now, for the first time in my life, I faced the same issue. I asked myself, what will I do every day? How will I keep myself busy? Am I still useful to others? One of my grand-daughters facetiously suggested that I could work at Trader Joe’s. Someone else wanted me to volunteer at a local library. Finally, the dénouement occurred two weeks ago when the chair of my department, with the recommendation of the curriculum committee, asked me to teach Judaica subjects again next year, though one elective less and not all the biblical subjects I loved to cover. Well, c’est la vie! It is better than nothing.
This mini crisis made me think about the countless people who lose their positions and become unemployed every year. How do they pay the monthly bills? How do they fill up their days? How do they deal with rejection and bad luck? It is clear to me that, even though our jobs do not define or describe us, they do give us some structure, and often help create purpose and meaning in our lives. “When you eat the labor of your hands, happy shall you be” says the Psalmist (Ps. 128:2). The ancient Rabbis knew this well too. Work, they taught, confers “honor” to the worker (Ned. 49b). Though some sages argued that the burden of worldly occupation is removed from those who are engaged in Torah (cf. Num. R. Hukkat, 19/26), others more realistically added that the study of Torah has to be accompanied by “derekh eretz” (worldly occupations) (M Avot 2/2; cf. 3/21).
The lesson for a retired person like me is this: continue to work as long as your health allows; try to find satisfaction in your daily profession; be useful to yourself and others, and, just in case, develop other hobbies to keep your mind alert.
Maybe it is time to pick up the old violin again!
Rifat Sonsino
For a few weeks I contemplated the possibility that I may not be able to teach again. At age 71, I don’t want to work full time, nor do I need it financially. In the past, as a synagogue Rabbi, I counseled many people who had lost jobs, and now, for the first time in my life, I faced the same issue. I asked myself, what will I do every day? How will I keep myself busy? Am I still useful to others? One of my grand-daughters facetiously suggested that I could work at Trader Joe’s. Someone else wanted me to volunteer at a local library. Finally, the dénouement occurred two weeks ago when the chair of my department, with the recommendation of the curriculum committee, asked me to teach Judaica subjects again next year, though one elective less and not all the biblical subjects I loved to cover. Well, c’est la vie! It is better than nothing.
This mini crisis made me think about the countless people who lose their positions and become unemployed every year. How do they pay the monthly bills? How do they fill up their days? How do they deal with rejection and bad luck? It is clear to me that, even though our jobs do not define or describe us, they do give us some structure, and often help create purpose and meaning in our lives. “When you eat the labor of your hands, happy shall you be” says the Psalmist (Ps. 128:2). The ancient Rabbis knew this well too. Work, they taught, confers “honor” to the worker (Ned. 49b). Though some sages argued that the burden of worldly occupation is removed from those who are engaged in Torah (cf. Num. R. Hukkat, 19/26), others more realistically added that the study of Torah has to be accompanied by “derekh eretz” (worldly occupations) (M Avot 2/2; cf. 3/21).
The lesson for a retired person like me is this: continue to work as long as your health allows; try to find satisfaction in your daily profession; be useful to yourself and others, and, just in case, develop other hobbies to keep your mind alert.
Maybe it is time to pick up the old violin again!
Rifat Sonsino
Friday, February 5, 2010
MY RECENT VISIT TO BUENOS AIRES
During the first half of January my wife, Ines, and I visited Buenos Aires, my wife’s birth place. I had spent three years there, from 1966-1969, as the Rabbi of a nascent Reform Congregation named Emanuel. The last time we were in Argentina was thirteen years ago. Our primary purpose now was to visit family, not to do tourism. The weather was great (it is summer there), much better than the cold and snowy days we left behind.
We found Buenos Aires much changed. It is now a sprawling capital of about 13 million people (out of 36 million in the whole country). Areas we used to consider as fancy are no longer so. For example, Harrods, a large department store downtown on Florida Str. is closed, and the street, no longer open to automobile traffic, is less glamorous. Similarly, the old theatre in the touristic Boca section does not exist, though people still dance the tango in the local cafes located in the small plaza.
Buenos Aires always boasted of delicious food. This is still the case. The “asados” (different cuts of grilled meat) are delicious. The restaurants in the Costanera are doing brisk business serving regulars and tourists. There is a new development called Puerto Madero, which is modern, fancy and attractive. Built on both sides of the Rio de la Plata, it offers the best culinary delights of the city. The new museums, Portabas and Malba, contain some of the most attractive exhibits. (We saw a wonderful display of Andy Warhol paintings). The country still has financial problems. During our stay the US imposed a financial embargo on the Argentinean Federal Bank, but lifted it within a week. The president of the country and the vice-president don’t talk to one another. Food and transportation are less expensive than Boston, but clothing and electronics cost more.
The Jewish community is smaller than my time. It is estimated that there are about 180,000 Jews now in Argentina, with the majority living in the capital. (When I was there, the number was about 250,000). Because of anti-Semitism in the 70’s, some Jews left for Spain, Venezuela or Israel. However, a new structure is emerging that is worthy of note. My colleague Rabbi Sergio Bergman, one of my successors in Emanuel, has created a Jewish Foundation to which three liberal congregations belong, along with a private Jewish school that is highly regarded in the community.
Ines and I attended a Friday night service at NCI-Emanuel synagogue and were very moved by the Sabbath spirit that was created through song and prayer. But the orientation is much more traditional than my time.
Traveling to Buenos Aires on Aerolineas Argentinas was easy and fun, but the return to the States was horrible; repeated schedule changes, alleged mechanical problems etc. We finally managed to leave a day early and spent a delightful sunny day in Miami Beach. It was wonderful to go and visit, but also great to come back.
Rifat Sonsino
We found Buenos Aires much changed. It is now a sprawling capital of about 13 million people (out of 36 million in the whole country). Areas we used to consider as fancy are no longer so. For example, Harrods, a large department store downtown on Florida Str. is closed, and the street, no longer open to automobile traffic, is less glamorous. Similarly, the old theatre in the touristic Boca section does not exist, though people still dance the tango in the local cafes located in the small plaza.
Buenos Aires always boasted of delicious food. This is still the case. The “asados” (different cuts of grilled meat) are delicious. The restaurants in the Costanera are doing brisk business serving regulars and tourists. There is a new development called Puerto Madero, which is modern, fancy and attractive. Built on both sides of the Rio de la Plata, it offers the best culinary delights of the city. The new museums, Portabas and Malba, contain some of the most attractive exhibits. (We saw a wonderful display of Andy Warhol paintings). The country still has financial problems. During our stay the US imposed a financial embargo on the Argentinean Federal Bank, but lifted it within a week. The president of the country and the vice-president don’t talk to one another. Food and transportation are less expensive than Boston, but clothing and electronics cost more.
The Jewish community is smaller than my time. It is estimated that there are about 180,000 Jews now in Argentina, with the majority living in the capital. (When I was there, the number was about 250,000). Because of anti-Semitism in the 70’s, some Jews left for Spain, Venezuela or Israel. However, a new structure is emerging that is worthy of note. My colleague Rabbi Sergio Bergman, one of my successors in Emanuel, has created a Jewish Foundation to which three liberal congregations belong, along with a private Jewish school that is highly regarded in the community.
Ines and I attended a Friday night service at NCI-Emanuel synagogue and were very moved by the Sabbath spirit that was created through song and prayer. But the orientation is much more traditional than my time.
Traveling to Buenos Aires on Aerolineas Argentinas was easy and fun, but the return to the States was horrible; repeated schedule changes, alleged mechanical problems etc. We finally managed to leave a day early and spent a delightful sunny day in Miami Beach. It was wonderful to go and visit, but also great to come back.
Rifat Sonsino
Friday, January 22, 2010
INTERDEPENDENCE
INTERDEPENDENCE
Modern technology has made the world much smaller. IPhones, Facebook, Twitter, instant messengers and other devises enable people to connect with one another around the globe right away. Recently, using Skype, I taught a class from my home in the Boston area, and was able to discuss issues with my students in Barcelona, Spain with great ease. During the last demonstrations in Tehran, the capital of Iran, I followed the developments through Twitter. It was much faster than getting the breaking news from CNN. I guess this is one of the reasons why we no longer write formal letters to each other. It is much easier to send an email. It is instantaneous and pretty efficient
Not only is the world getting smaller but we are now more than ever before linked to one another. In a recent interview with Newsweek, former President Clinton said, “This [is] the most interdependent age in human history” (Dec. 28, 2009). Globalism and international trade relations obligate each nation to rely on other countries. Gone is the day when one State can dominate the world. Even super powers are dependent on others for basic commodities.
Though there is nothing new in this observation, I wonder if this trend makes the study of Kabbalah more appealing to many people in our time. It is known that Kabbalah is going mainstream; many Kabbalah centers are now opening up in many cities, including for youngsters; and not only for Jews but for Gentiles as well. (For example, Madonna, Britney Spears, Demi Moore, Mick Jagger and others).
It is known that Jewish mysticism’s central idea is that all human beings, and, in fact, the entire universe, material and spiritual, is interlinked. “Everything is organically, seamlessly joined to everything else,” writes Rabbi Larry Kushner, a Kabbalah devotee. I am not so sure about our impact on the realm of the spirit, but I am convinced that what I do, whether good or bad, can impact on another human being. This realization places a higher responsibility on each of us. The lesson is: “that which is hateful to you, do not do to others.” But this is not a new lesson. It was already proclaimed by the first century Jewish sage, Hillel the Elder (See Talmud, Shab. 31a; Mt. 7: 12). It is still good in our days.
Rifat Sonsino
Modern technology has made the world much smaller. IPhones, Facebook, Twitter, instant messengers and other devises enable people to connect with one another around the globe right away. Recently, using Skype, I taught a class from my home in the Boston area, and was able to discuss issues with my students in Barcelona, Spain with great ease. During the last demonstrations in Tehran, the capital of Iran, I followed the developments through Twitter. It was much faster than getting the breaking news from CNN. I guess this is one of the reasons why we no longer write formal letters to each other. It is much easier to send an email. It is instantaneous and pretty efficient
Not only is the world getting smaller but we are now more than ever before linked to one another. In a recent interview with Newsweek, former President Clinton said, “This [is] the most interdependent age in human history” (Dec. 28, 2009). Globalism and international trade relations obligate each nation to rely on other countries. Gone is the day when one State can dominate the world. Even super powers are dependent on others for basic commodities.
Though there is nothing new in this observation, I wonder if this trend makes the study of Kabbalah more appealing to many people in our time. It is known that Kabbalah is going mainstream; many Kabbalah centers are now opening up in many cities, including for youngsters; and not only for Jews but for Gentiles as well. (For example, Madonna, Britney Spears, Demi Moore, Mick Jagger and others).
It is known that Jewish mysticism’s central idea is that all human beings, and, in fact, the entire universe, material and spiritual, is interlinked. “Everything is organically, seamlessly joined to everything else,” writes Rabbi Larry Kushner, a Kabbalah devotee. I am not so sure about our impact on the realm of the spirit, but I am convinced that what I do, whether good or bad, can impact on another human being. This realization places a higher responsibility on each of us. The lesson is: “that which is hateful to you, do not do to others.” But this is not a new lesson. It was already proclaimed by the first century Jewish sage, Hillel the Elder (See Talmud, Shab. 31a; Mt. 7: 12). It is still good in our days.
Rifat Sonsino
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
LIVING WITH TWO CALENDARS
“Whoever controls the calendar controls society.” That was the gist of the lesson that one of my history professors once taught us in years past. It was an insight that opened my eyes and has influenced my thinking ever since.
In the Western world, Jews live with two calendars: A secular calendar that starts in January and a religious calendar that begins around the months of September or October. The little pocket diary I use, follows the Hebrew calendar, so I go from September to September. This is not only a calendar issue; it is a mind set. Broadly speaking, in September/October I look forward to the High Holidays; my next goal is Hanukah (around December); then comes Purim (around Feb/March); and that bring me to Passover (March/April) and finally to Shavuot in May/June.
Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan (d. 1983), the founder of the Reconstructionist movement in Judaism, taught that Jews live in two civilizations simultaneously. In the Diaspora, living in a non-Jewish environment, most Jews function by the secular calendar and our religious calendar becomes at best secondary in our mind set. Things apparently are not too different in Israel where the Hebrew calendar dominates. A recent survey shows that 69% of Israelis have no problem living by the western calendar but they prefer that the government does not pay for its implementation.
Conflicts around the calendar abound in Jewish history. In the early biblical period, the solar calendar was replaced by a lunar-solar calendar. In the 10th cent. BCE, when king Jeroboam I seceded from the southern kingdom of Judah and set up the Kingdom of Israel in the north, he appears to have created a new calendar that was in opposition to the Judean calendar(Cf. I K 12: 32-33). After the Israelites returned from the Exile in the 6th cent. BCE, they brought with them a new calendar that began counting the months in the springtime, as did the Babylonians of their time. They even named the months after Babylonian gods (Nissan, Tammuz, Tishri etc). In the 2nd cent. BCE, during the sectarian conflicts that plagued the Jewish community of Judea, a group led by someone called “The Teacher of Righteousness” claimed that he had a major fight with the “Wicked Priest” (most likely Jonathan, the high priest and brother of Judah the Maccabee). As a result of this confrontation, the group withdrew to the Dead Sea area and, following the old solar calendar, created its own Jewish discipline as reflected in many of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Book of Jubilees.
Today most Jews live by the rabbinic calendar that was finalized around the 4th cent. CE. However, many Reform Jews in the US, follow the Biblical calendar, and celebrate, for example, 7 days of Passover instead of 8 days as dictated by the rabbinic calendar for the Diaspora. Thus, on the 8th day of the holiday, I, as most Reform Jews, am already eating bread, while my Conservative and Orthodox coreligionists are still munching on Matzah.
In the western hemisphere, we function by the Gregorian calendar (set up in the 16th cent. CE), and celebrate January as the first month of the year, even though the month is named after the Roman god, Janus who was the god of doors and gateways. So, in the Jewish community, we too wear another hat, and, on December 31, wish each other, “Happy New Year.” May it bring peace and contentment to all of us.
Looking forward Purim, I am,
Rifat Sonsino
In the Western world, Jews live with two calendars: A secular calendar that starts in January and a religious calendar that begins around the months of September or October. The little pocket diary I use, follows the Hebrew calendar, so I go from September to September. This is not only a calendar issue; it is a mind set. Broadly speaking, in September/October I look forward to the High Holidays; my next goal is Hanukah (around December); then comes Purim (around Feb/March); and that bring me to Passover (March/April) and finally to Shavuot in May/June.
Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan (d. 1983), the founder of the Reconstructionist movement in Judaism, taught that Jews live in two civilizations simultaneously. In the Diaspora, living in a non-Jewish environment, most Jews function by the secular calendar and our religious calendar becomes at best secondary in our mind set. Things apparently are not too different in Israel where the Hebrew calendar dominates. A recent survey shows that 69% of Israelis have no problem living by the western calendar but they prefer that the government does not pay for its implementation.
Conflicts around the calendar abound in Jewish history. In the early biblical period, the solar calendar was replaced by a lunar-solar calendar. In the 10th cent. BCE, when king Jeroboam I seceded from the southern kingdom of Judah and set up the Kingdom of Israel in the north, he appears to have created a new calendar that was in opposition to the Judean calendar(Cf. I K 12: 32-33). After the Israelites returned from the Exile in the 6th cent. BCE, they brought with them a new calendar that began counting the months in the springtime, as did the Babylonians of their time. They even named the months after Babylonian gods (Nissan, Tammuz, Tishri etc). In the 2nd cent. BCE, during the sectarian conflicts that plagued the Jewish community of Judea, a group led by someone called “The Teacher of Righteousness” claimed that he had a major fight with the “Wicked Priest” (most likely Jonathan, the high priest and brother of Judah the Maccabee). As a result of this confrontation, the group withdrew to the Dead Sea area and, following the old solar calendar, created its own Jewish discipline as reflected in many of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Book of Jubilees.
Today most Jews live by the rabbinic calendar that was finalized around the 4th cent. CE. However, many Reform Jews in the US, follow the Biblical calendar, and celebrate, for example, 7 days of Passover instead of 8 days as dictated by the rabbinic calendar for the Diaspora. Thus, on the 8th day of the holiday, I, as most Reform Jews, am already eating bread, while my Conservative and Orthodox coreligionists are still munching on Matzah.
In the western hemisphere, we function by the Gregorian calendar (set up in the 16th cent. CE), and celebrate January as the first month of the year, even though the month is named after the Roman god, Janus who was the god of doors and gateways. So, in the Jewish community, we too wear another hat, and, on December 31, wish each other, “Happy New Year.” May it bring peace and contentment to all of us.
Looking forward Purim, I am,
Rifat Sonsino
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