I could see that the recruit was struggling. The work environment was new to him, and he wasn’t keeping up. “It’s all about the vocab,” I explained. “Every organisation, every community, and every family have a set of words, expressions, and references unique to them. Understand what they are, and you won’t have an issue.”
He shifted his focus to the language used, and very quickly felt part of the company.
Which got me thinking what it must be like to stand outside the Jewish community this time of year, and listen in to some of our conversations. “Where you guys second day?” or “Geoff won’t do a big breaking” along with “Who is blowing for you?” can only be understood within the context of the upcoming festivals. And it might sound more than odd for someone eavesdropping.
It’s also a little less interesting than they might think.
“Can’t believe how late Rosh Hashanah is this year,” has to be another classic, accompanied by “Have you seen that they all fall on Monday and Tuesday!” as though this hasn’t occurred for millennia. Our amazement and incredulity is as refreshing as it’s perplexing, and somehow never dampens our shock about the earliness, lateness, or weekday-ness of this year’s festival timetable.
And then there are the prepared, the unprepared, and the forgetful. There are those who have already sent WhatsApp invitations for next year’s Sukkot, while there are those who are still meaning to invite people for last year’s Pesach seder. Families like ours spend an anxious yom tov not knowing where we’re meant to be, and live with the fear of arriving at the wrong house for a meal that was meant to be the next day. Or, worse still, not showing up at all.
Each year, we swear that we’ll write out the schedule and pin it to the fridge, but then yom tov comes so early, we’re once again taken by surprise.
My wife is a very nice person. She really is. She’s kind and caring and I love her greatly. But the stress of yom tov meal accuracy is sometimes overwhelming. “Where are we second day?” a question from my daughter can easily be met with a completely different answer to the same enquiry from me a few minutes before. Suburbs or countries might even differ. “What?” she’ll ask, after looking at my expression. “Wait. Where did I say we were?” And none of us are any closer to knowing which direction we should be walking when the time comes.
This year, we need to write it down and pin it to the fridge.
If there’s another phrase that’s particular to the Jewish community and this time of year – and maybe to me – it’s “Howard! It’s Elul!” as though the Jewish month and its association might have slipped my mind. Elul, for those not familiar, is a time of repentance and introspection, and apparently asks us to curtail our behaviour and behave more appropriately. It’s a refrain that not only has done little to encourage me in the past, it also seems to bring out the 14-year-old in me.
Language, syntax, and phrases illustrate many things about us. They reflect our country, city, education, and our community. More so at this time of year, being Elul, as we head toward Rosh Hashanah, which is late, and which I can’t believe falls on a Monday and a Tuesday!
