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Language Immersion

I remain intrigued by Eliezer Ben Yehuda, compiler of The Complete Dictionary of Modern and Ancient Hebrew. It seems I’m not alone: Marc’s comment alerted me to a Rhode Island connection (go figure!); Meredith’s comment caused me to wonder about Eliezer’s wife, Devora.

I went to the The Jewish National and University Library at the Givat Ram Campus of Hebrew University and did some more reading. Although I have found conflicting stories about him, a few of the stories stand out and appear to be true, or at least interesting.

While I initially admired the pioneer spirit of Eliezer and Devora who committed themselves to speaking only Hebrew from the moment they began their journey from Europe to Palestine, I since learned of a small glitch in the system. Once they had a child, how would they ensure he spoke only Hebrew when the kids in the neighborhood were speaking Yiddish or Arabic or Russian? It was simple enough. Eliezer did not allow his son to leave the house or speak to anyone who did not speak Hebrew. This meant no playmates for the little guy until the children of Israel started to speak Hebrew too. This would take a while. Little Ben-Zion Ben Yehuda did not learn to speak at all until he was four, but it was in Hebrew. I don’t think Devora foresaw such results when her husband first proposed his language immersion plan.

There are many more little tales about Eliezer and I think about these stories when I learn a new word or phrase in Hebrew. I am, of course, luckier than Ben-Zion. To immerse myself in the language, I get to go outside and meet new friends. I’m going outside now and will dedicate my next Hebrew conversation to Devora Ben Yehuda and to her son who could not leave the house.

Joel Solomon Street in the Nachalat Shiva neighborhood of Jerusalem.

Another view of Nachalat Shiva.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 3:14 PM | Permalink | Comments 1

When the language was new

I recently read about Eliezer Ben Yehuda (1858-1922), father of modern Hebrew. He moved from Russia, via Paris, to Palestine in 1880 with his new wife. From the moment they stepped on the boat they committed themselves to speaking Hebrew in the home and on the street. As the Bible, at that time, remained the primary source for the language, few people spoke it and there weren’t yet words for modern-day living. So he had to start inventing words and speaking those words and weaving the gorgeous language that I unravel on a daily basis. He has been called a visionary and a nut (necessary qualities for such an enterprise, it seems to me) and is the subject of a wonderful song by Israeli singer Chava Alberstein.

Ben Yehuda Street.

Another view of Ben Yehuda Street.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 6:19 AM | Permalink | Comments 2

Tel Aviv: Warm, Sunny, Seaside

When I came to Israel for brief visits, I didn’t have much use for Tel Aviv. It was just a big city. After living in Jerusalem for five months, Tel Aviv has become a warm, sunny, seaside reprieve for me.

Skyscrapers, galleries, the promenade along the beach, Bauhaus architecture , the Carmel Market, are all part of Tel Aviv. I admit I may be idealizing the place, but people here seem a bit more relaxed than those in Jerusalem. The world does not scrutinize Tel Aviv as it does the Holy City. This, along with the absence of religious zealotry, may make all the difference.

Elie and I stop to hear a street singer. She is about sixty, with long blond hair, dressed all in black. She sings Israeli standards, accompanying herself with an acoustic guitar. A large crowd of men, women, and children stand around her and sing along. Two audience members, not much older than eighteen, wear uniforms. The singer looks at them and says: “Here’s to the young soldiers. One day all soldiers will be of chocolate.” She continues singing.

When Elie raises his camera to take her picture, the singer, without missing a beat, raises a sign saying “No Photos.” She sings with Tel Avivians and her message seems clear: sing with us or move along.

Bialik Street.

Art Fair on Nachalat Binyamin.

Cafe along Nachalat Binyamin.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 5:14 AM | Permalink | Comments 2

I am a visitor here

Many of my friends have children and I have enjoyed wonderful times playing with them. Of course, when the children get fussy or over-stimulated or otherwise less adorable, I just hand them over to the parents and go home. In a way, this describes my visitor status in Israel.

I read the English edition of HaAretz almost everyday. This daily, mainstream newspaper looks head-on into the challenges and stresses of the country and territories. While stories of tragedy are never hard to find anywhere in the world, there is a personal pain when I read about roadblocks and house raids in the West Bank and Gaza.

I am a visitor in Israel; I do not vote here; I will not send a husband or child into the army. To criticize U.S. policies is one thing; but do I have the right to judge Israel? Surely there are political subtleties that I don’t completely understand. I am a visitor here, but I have a lifetime relationship with the place and believe it was founded for a beautiful purpose: a haven for Jewish refugees when there was nowhere else for them to go. Maybe I have no right to judge, but I can’t help feeling sadness and frustration and concern with the current situation. Beneath the larger, most visible swell of politics are people working towards peace and environmental sustainability and social equality. I may have no right to judge, but I do hope they will succeed in their efforts.

I explore the city and other parts of Israel, meet new friends, write, read, have fun. And then, I will go home.

The Sergei Courtyard houses the Jerusalem Branch of The Society for Protection Of Nature in Israel.

Another view of Sergei Courtyard.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 8:58 AM | Permalink | Comments 0

Some things are hard to get used to

I am walking downtown when, all of a sudden, the sidewalk ends and I face bulldozers tearing up the pavement immediately in front of me. In another place, I might expect a sign warning pedestrians. Not here; signs are for wimps. Although traffic is heavy and drivers are doing their lunatic best, I watch as the Jerusalem pedestrians walk in the street or right through the construction. I follow suit until I notice a well-dressed older woman struggling with these options. I ask if she needs some help.

“Oh thank you, she says in a lovely British accent. “I’m 85 year’s old, I’ve been living here for 25 years. I should be used to this. Oh dear. Oh dear.”

Together we make it back on to the sidewalk, just past the construction.

“Please go on ahead,” she urges. “I’m just on my way to the dentist. I can manage now. Oh dear, oh dear. I should be used to this after all this time.”

I walk on alone only to see a car drive up on the sidewalk and come right towards me. I dodge to the side.

“Oh my…oh dear…deardeardear…Oh! Oh!”

I look back to see my new friend struggling to evade the oncoming car. I walk back and take her arm.

“I really should be used to this,” she says.

I tell several Israeli friends about the car driving on the sidewalk. The response each time is the same: “I hope it wasn’t me driving that car.”

I was sorry I didn't have a camera for the incident described above. But, it clearly wasn't to be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. This car drove towards me not far from my house.

It parked right by the crosswalk.

On Palmach Street, the sidewalk is narrow and the traffic is heavy. It can be rather tricky.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 2:10 PM | Permalink | Comments 1

My neighborhood is not on any tourist itinerary

When tourists visit Jerusalem, my neighborhood probably does not appear on their itinerary. San Simon is simply a nice neighborhood where people live and shop, and raise their kids and work. But, when I tell Jerusalemites where I live, they smile and say, “Ah, there’s a wonderful park there.”

Schiff Gardens, commonly called San Simon Park, is relatively small, but completely delightful: several small playgrounds, public art, outdoor ping-pong tables, and paved paths that weave around large green spaces. When the weather is fine, people stroll and picnic and relax here. It is a lovely oasis of calm in the city.

The park is above street level. When I walk through at just the right time in the evening, I can watch the sun set over the distant hills and the supermarket just below.

Children playing in the park when the weather was still warm and sunny.

One entrance to the park.

A view of the distant hills and the supermarket below.

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 8:34 AM | Permalink | Comments 4

A tense and delicate variety of peace

Crash-shatter. The groom breaks the glass.

Mazal tov!!

I am at a wedding in the Old City of Jerusalem, not far from the Western Wall.

I do not visit the Old City often; because of this, it never becomes routine. I always feel I have entered another era, an exotic place. If I never read the newspapers or if I lived as a recluse, I might observe that Jerusalem is a city where people of different religions and political beliefs live together peacefully. It is relatively peaceful. It just happens to be a tense and delicate variety of peace.

Teddy Kollek died today at age 95. He was mayor of Jerusalem from 1965 to 1993, when Ehud Omert (current prime minister) won the mayoral election. To this day, Kollek is credited with establishing Jerusalem as a cultural center. He is also praised for maintaining a fragile balance in Jerusalem between Jews, Moslems, and Christians; between citizens who are secular or religious, between those who are politically left or right, and extreme or moderate in either direction.

We wish the bride and groom well. I hear a moaning chant from just blocks away. It is the muezzin calling Muslims to prayer.

Driving towards the Western Wall with a view of
Dome of the Rock

Posted by Ilene Weismehl  at 1:31 PM | Permalink | Comments 1