Vil’amsburg Diaries: Ba’al Tefilah
Hershy Tam2010Fiction“Git Shabbos, Reb Hershel,” the gabbai says to me with a smile. “Minche?”
He has it down to a science, Reb Yossel the gabbai. Every other week he asks me the same question. He needs someone to lead the services for the short and unexciting part of the Friday night prayers. Technically Minche is still part of the Friday prayers and as such is undeserving of the special melodies reserved for the Shabbos prayers. For that I’m perfect. He never even asked me to lead the real prayers. Not that I’d be any good at it, but how would he know that?
I decline the honor.
“Please,” he says, “We need you. Reb Meir Dovid is in Tosh.” They always go to Tosh. To the Rebbe. I was there once, years ago, with Nuchem. He begged me to take him, and I thought it might be good for his ruchnius. Only later did I find out that he bragged to his school mates that he had been to Tosh a million times and he only needed to prove it. My Nuchem, always a step ahead of me. The schlep wasn’t exciting and being away from the family for a Shabbos isn’t something I particularly enjoy. Meir Dovid and others seem fine with trekking up there every sheine Shabbos.
“Sore throat,” I lie to Reb Yossel, and point to my Adam’s Apple.
I must refuse twice so as to appear modest, too humble to accept such an honor; but the same code also requires not to refuse a third time. Our great book of laws governs everything, thankfully. Imagine having to deal with declining and accepting on your own, without knowing that accepting eagerly shows too much pride. How do the goyim live without these rules (the ones that they left out when they stole other parts of our religion)? Maybe that’s why they have so many problems, the goyim.
“That’s what you said last week,” Reb Yossel retorts. I get up from my seat, gather the weekly handouts distributed by the shul, and I ask my table mates to keep an eye on my kinderlech. Sometimes they think they can go outside and play when I’m not watching. The Klein kids, even the eleven-year-old, play outside during the entire duration of the services. What kind of bucherim will they grow up to be? A bunch of bums.
“Praise Hashem because he is good, because forever is his kindness,” I shockel and start the prayers. Later, after davening, I tell my sons the story my father told me when I was their age. In Mir there was once a bucher who no one knew where he came from. “Was he an orphan?” Kivi asks. “Maybe he was a ba’al teshuveh,” Yoely says, “like the Barnys from Lorimer St. No one knows where they’re from or why they live in Williamsburg.” He’s perceptive, Yoely. Everyone’s been wondering about the Barnys. First people thought they were making a movie or something, but they’ve been living here for five years now. He, Mr. Barny, even started wearing a shtreimel, and now they send their kids to Satmar. Back to the story, I tell my kids, there were suspicions about this bucher’s origins, so they went to ask the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Shach, for his thoughts. The Rosh Yeshiva determined that he must be a goy; he didn’t shockel while praying or studying.
I try to teach my kids good morals and proper ehrlichkeit. Not like the person next to me in shul, whose name I won’t mention. He tells his kids openly that he is a Democrat; he’ll even call himself a Liberal sometimes, without any shame. I bet he voted for Obama. I tried talking to him, but he is the world’s biggest oiber-chuchom. He once asked me with a straight face why I don’t think that gays should be able to marry. Meshige metoreh. Oy did I answer him. Ich hob em git areingezoogt. I told him the truth. I told him that he himself doesn’t believe in everything he says and is only saying it to get attention. I mean, come on, there is no way that he believes that gays should get married. No one is saying we should arrest people who do things in the privacy of their own homes, but getting married? I bet he wouldn’t be too happy if his kids saw two goyim kissing on the street. Or holding hands. Foy. That’s what happens to people who use the Internet. They get crazy ideas and repeat them even if they don’t believe in them. Even normal goyim aren’t liberals. They have decency. You will never see a besere goy, an Italian, say, who thinks like that.
At home I told Breindy that I led the prayers, and she looked at me with a beaming smile. Those things make her proud. Except that Yidi had to pipe up and say that it was only Minche. Another oiber-chuchum. He’s always like that. Breindy pretended to still be proud, but it wasn’t the same. Sheindy was in the middle of setting the table, laying out the becher and the lechem mishne, and when I playfully asked her if she too is proud of me she rolled her eyes. These little kids, they grow up, and suddenly they judge you and act like you’re the little one. She’s a good kid though. She’ll make some boy really happy.
In the meantime I change into my tish bekeshe and begin singing Shulem Aleichem. I wouldn’t mind the boys singing along with me; what am I, the family entertainer? But they’re busy playing kugelech. Zol zein azoi, I’ll let them play. When it comes to Menichu Vesimchu and Koh Ribon Ulam they won’t get away with it that easily.
28 Responses
“You will never see a besere goy, an Italian, say, who thinks like that.”
Oy, did you have me on the floor laughing with that! Oy vee emess iz duss! My parents are always in the habit of saying a bessere goy dus, a bessere goy yentz, and how would they know?
““Praise Hashem because he is good, because forever is his kindness,” I shockel and start the prayers. ”
What are you, a Litvak? What happened with Hoidy?
“I must refuse twice so as to appear modest, too humble to accept such an honor; but the same code also requires not to refuse a third time.”
That is a common misconception, but its wrong. The inyan of siruv, to be modest, only requires one to be mesarev twice, no more. But if someone really isn’t interested in davening for the amud, of course he can be mesariv as much as he wants, but then it has nothing to do, of course, with the din of seriv. A similar misconception is that when a “gadol” asks you to lead the prayers, one cannot turn down the honor, and he must lead. Wrong. Ein mesarvin legadol just means that the din of seriv, which requires one to be modest and not grab the honor at the first opportunity, does not apply when a gadol asked, because then it isn’t pretentious, but if someone really does not want to, he is not required to daven for the amud when the gadol asked.
So next time der ruv shikt eich tzee, you can quote kafhakela from Unpious with a naya derher in ein mesarvin legudil.
Ugh! Hershel makes me sick.
Sorry Gila.
Kaf,
Hoidy = Praise…
ooops, Heshy.
Heshy,
I enjoyed the piece. It’s got humor and good detail of common interactions…and for me it brought back memories.
One quick question in the spirit of friendly critique: Is there a reason you generally do not even translate the Hebrew and Yiddish words in this story, but in the case of “Praise Hashem because he is good, because forever is his kindness,” you not only give the English, but not the Hebrew?
I ask because it struck me as inconsistent, an off-note, and almost as though trying to allow non-Hebrew-speaking people to understand…but in that case, so much of the rest of the terms in the story would, by those people, not be understood…because surely they wouldn’t understand Yiddish.
Of course, you may have your reasons; I simply thought I’d ask. Keep up the good work!
AW
Good question AW. I don’t have an easy answer as consistency is something I’m not good at.
I believe that the single words that cannot be easily translated are left in Yiddish with a clickable explanation. Something a little longer, easier to translate, or looks better in English I’d rather translate.
I must say that, in retrospect, if I were to have a little more time on my hand I would’ve wanted to write it in Yiddish.
@ kaf:
Yes, Praise = hoidee, but you know that us snags don’t say hoidee before minchu!
“You will never see a besere goy, an Italian, say, who thinks like that”.
Ha! love that.
Hershy, can I answer AW’s question for you?
Gila,
His repugnant and detestable character is precisely what makes him so admirable and completely attractable to me.
Kaf
“So next time der ruv shikt eich tzee, you can quote kafhakela from Unpious with a naya derher in ein mesarvin legudil”
Its a good derher, I like, but I wont use it with my Ruv. Im already on one leg with him, mentioning unpious would probably be the final blow. Instead of being offered the “breytel”, I’ll get a “breytel” in tuchis.
R&C,
After finding me repungent and detestable I’m not that inclined to let you go, but the attraction part will cause me to overlook the other feelings you have. Go ahead.
Snagg, forgive me for my ignorance, but what’s a snagg?????????????
I don’t find Heshy repugnant. I wouldn’t at all want to be him, but he seems pretty comfortable with his life and his routine and at times, I envy him. Brings back the old question, if you would have had a choice to be born smart and depressed, or stupid and happy, not realizing the futility of it all, which would you choose?
Hahah, Hershy, you know that I love you. Don’t make me profess it here- “bifney kol ha’kuhl v’eydeh”
The hebrew form of prayer, and for that matter all sacred text, has regrettably lost some of its intrinsic meaning to someone who is used to utter it repeatedly since his early youth. I find that to truly appreciate the beauty that is inherent in the words of our sacred scriptures, translation is vital. Its only when the words are translated that (at least for me) they spring to life; they have meaning. In their hebrew form its just babbling. How many times have you lost your thoughts during “shmoineh esreh” Hershy? I would bet that if you would recite the amidah in the foreign tongue you would be a lot more focused and you would cease encountering the beautiful blondes at “velamalshinim”
Blonds? Feh. Cha-Layeh is no longer blond underneath her sheitel, I bet you.
Kaf, what’s the question?
Hershy didn’t wanna break it to you, but you leave me no choice. I have intimate sources that tell me that Cha Layeh doesn’t even have the crew cut she once used to have. She is going bold, lyder. I’m sorry for breaking it to you, if you need a shoulder to cry on, you know I’m always here for you.
RandC, is the answer so simple to you? So what is it? (You can’t ask pshita if there is an opinion that argues on what’s obvious to you.)
Kaf,
The way you phrased the question it can’t be more “pshiteh”; its not even a question. You used the assumption that silliness is synonymous with happiness and wisdom is synonymous with pain. No person in his right mind would select wisdom. If you would rephrase the question and subtract the premise that silliness equals happiness, you have a viable question at hand. I would ask the question as follows. Would a person rather chose wisdom and all its benefits with the knowledge that added wisdom usually leads to greater awareness which in term can lead to greater pain, or would he rather choose silliness which is definitely less estimable but which comes with a pseudo guarantee of lesser awareness which in turn guarantees greater overall content and happiness. I would still chose silliness.
Hershy, I loved the part where they asked the “Mirrer Rosh Yeshivah”- “Harav Shach.”
Spoken like a true Villiamsburger Yid. Ignoramus, sheltered, and in complete oblivion to different streaks in yiddishkiet, the one who is born on Ross St, goes to school on Hooper, marries on Rodney, moves to Keap, prospers on Marcy, has his midlife crisis on Bedford, gets bold and grey on Division, and finally dies on Vilson. Loved it!
Kafhakela, I’d rather be smart and happy
R&C- not repugnant and detestable
Pathetic, in a helpless sort of way.
Mincha Erev Shabbos and the wife isn’t proud? Women!
Mincha erev Shabbos between your crowd, is for the white bearded Reb Meir Dovids of this world. Now, I know that the Gabbi was in dire straits in this case, but still she should have been prouder yet since it was indeed mincha.
Unless of course this really has to do with resentment harboured, owing to perceived unrecognised vocal potential, better suited to a Ma’ariv.
pesach is coming. and thats your chance to be mikayim vihiegaditu livinchu. as the sefurim hakdoishim say. pesach beinacht hut yeder tate di koach arantzibaken yiras shumayim in di kinder!
@ Kaf…
you know, snags: A lubab term of “endearment” for miSNAGdim. Kind of like they way they call non-chabadsker chasidim “Chagas”. But lets not turn this into a lubab bashing post/site. Plenty of those around the ‘net…
Snagg.
Chagas is not an endearing name for non-lubabs. Its a derogatory appellation. Lubabs contend that they are involved with the higher “sefires”, in essence, crown (keter), wisdom (chuchmeh), and knowledge (bineh). They view other chasiddim as belonging to the lower sefires of “chaga’s nahi’m”. The acronym for chagas is kindness (chesed), strength (g’vireh), and tifereth (don’t have a good translation for that one)
Love this piece heshy, well done!!
I think snag meant “endearing” lushen sagi nuhor” thus the quotes.