As a Jew, I define myself in Hebrew only (Part Two)

About two years ago, I published the following article. Needless to add, I still stand behind every word I wrote in it.

https://wingnsonawildflight.blogspot.com/2016/02/as-jew-i-define-myself-in-hebrew-only.html

Recently, as result of my studies towards earning a PhD in Hebrew/Yiddish Literature starting at the end of 19^th century through post WWII, I realized, yet again, the need to stress and share with my fellow Jews why I believe it is important that as Jews, we should define ourselves in Hebrew only.

As many know, the period I mentioned above also includes one of the darkest, if not the darkest chapter in our history, the Shoah (AKA Holocaust). I have resolved that from now on, I will use the Hebrew word Shoah when I refer to that chapter.

Here are some of my reasons.

The etymology of the word “Holocaust” stems from the ancient Greek holocaustun “a thing wholly burnt” and Latin holocaustum origins which later morphed into its Old (12^th century) French holocauste “sacrifice by fire, burnt offering,” and the English “holocaust” forms. (https://www.etymonline.com/word/holocaust). According to Morris and Morris, Dictionary and Phrase Origins (1962), in its original form, a holocaust was a sacrificial burnt offering to pagan gods in pre-Christian times.”

Sacrificial burnt offerings, as a means to overcome guilt for failing to live according to one or another moral code, is a practice that many cultures adopted, especially in ancient times. Yes, Torah also requires the sinner to bring sacrifice. The only difference, though, between it and other sources, is that in Hebrew, the language of Torah, we do not call it “burnt offering.” The Hebrew term for that practice is referred to as “Offering Korban” (from the word karov – to come close). In the Hebrew/Jewish tradition, the offering of Korban, or sacrifice, according to Rabbi Steven Heil, “is governed by strict regulations, “so that “we tangibly relate to G-d in a true proper way.” The detailed rituals of sacrifices as outlined in the Torah played an essential role in our ultimate way to serve G-d.  

Is that how the world and some Jews wish to refer to the untimely death of my young cousins and millions of other innocent Jews, young and old, who were killed by the Nazi war machine? Were they a “burnt offering” of some sort, as the term “holocaust” suggests? Were they even a “korban” for any sins committed?

Shoah, which in Hebrew means “catastrophe,” on the other hand, defines that atrocious episode in Jewish history more accurately. That event was aimed at eradicating our People from off the face of this earth altogether. There was no sacrifice involved here, merely some evil force that played god and decided who should live and who should die. Whichever way one looks at it, it is a “catastrophe.”

Are we, Jews, going to let a term that originated in ancient pagan cultures and has nothing to do with our sad experience, define us?

If other nations, or groups wish to use the term “holocaust” to define efforts to annihilate or slaughter them, let them use it. They are already doing it anyway.

For me, as a Jew, however, there is only one word to describe what happened to my parents and their generation. I call it Shoah.

Prayer

I dedicate this article to Dr. Drori of Bar-Ilan University whose excellent course, “States of Prayer” has provided the inspiration for writing it.

Prayer is one of the most important tenets in Judaism. It is an act, I believe, that many, regardless of faith or creed, have performed, at least once, at some stage in their lives.

Prayer can reveal itself in various ways and different forms. For some, it is a means, a conduit of communication, be it with G-d as the recipient, another addressee or simply with one’s own self. It is an act that can be conducted publicly, privately and almost anywhere and at any time.

For me, prayer mostly belongs to the realm of privacy. It is a time to step back from my busy daily schedule and reflect. I use that very precious and time confined deed to reconnect with G-d, the universe that surrounds me and above all, with my own inner self.

As such, on many occasions, I compose my own plea, depending on the circumstances and its recipients. I may not always utter the words vociferously. Many a times, it is only my lips that are moving. Other times, the words are forming in my head. They take on their own shape, colours and rhythms. It is then that, like the flicker of a candle flame which dances ecstatically as it seems to aspire to free itself from the wick, so does my soul wiggle and shake as if it desires to rise above my corporal body and wander upwards towards some unseen source of strength that can help fulfill my heart’s wishes and desires.

 One of the main ingredients, however, if not the most important one that prayer needs to possess, if it is to be effective, is what we Jews call Kavanah (intent).

Any prayer that lacks Kavanah, the engine that powers it, the steam that fuels and energizes it, is akin to an empty vessel that is used for decoration purposes only. Kavanah brings meaning to the prayer. It is essential for the cleansing of one’s soul. It is extremely vital to what the author of Deuteronomy 10:16 so eloquently describes as the circumcision of the heart.

For me, prayer is the process which provides the catalyst for the ongoing course of the distillation of my essence. It weaves a cloak of purity that wraps and cradles the walls of my being. It is the spring that renews my Jewish fountains of strength as it fills the void created by a world that confines my ancient soul to a state of existence which reduces it to stressing, valuing and almost idolizing the “here” and “now.”

 For I know that there is more to and above our corporal presence on this earth. I have had a glimpse at it. And it is prayer, sincere prayer, that provides me with the compass which leads me along the path to the staircase that will one day get me to that wonderful state where so many aspire to reach yet very few do.