Blog — Yiddish Proverbs

Shpeiz kocht men in top un koved krigt der teller.

One of the most important Jewish mitzvahs is the giving of charity, or Tzedakah. Most Jewish households have at least one pushke, a container in which Jews collect this traditional tithe. Although there are many elaborate and ornate vessels on the market, households with children have no shortage of coffee-canister-turned-pushkes made by chubby kindergartners or (even chubbier) sunscreen-slick preteens at Hebrew camp. Or perhaps I’m just projecting. ... Regardless, Tzedakah is serious stuff for Jews, so much so that understanding it simply as “Jewish charity” is not entirely accurate.

The word is derived from the Hebrew root:

Tzadei-Dalet-Qof.

Which means:

“That which is fair, right or just.”

So while the concept of charity implies an extraordinary act of generosity, Jews simply view Tzedakah as their duty; to provide the unfortunate with what they rightfully deserve. (Somewhere out there, a little piece of Rush Limbaugh just died. How’s that for icing on the cake?) Furthermore, as with traditional almsgiving, the highest levels of Tzedakah involve anonymous giving.

Fun Fact! What’s the very highest? Anonymous giving that makes it possible for a person to become self-sufficient. Very cool.

And that’s fine. No one’s asking for a parade or anything; who wants to schvitz like a chazzer in the sun all day? And all that useless waving? Who needs it!? … Where was I? Oh yes! With all this unnamed giving going on, in our personal lives many of us find ourselves, shall we say, compensating ever so slightly. I mean, dutiful donations sans recognition are one thing, but hell if we’ll sit idly by and let someone else take the credit for being the first one to stumble upon a hilarious video on YouTube or, worse, for coming up with an original joke or recipe! Ridiculous! Or maybe it’s just me ...

Regardless, nowhere on any level of the Tzedakah does it say we should aspire to act as passive pots to the trombenik plates of the world (metaphorically speaking, of course). Not going to happen! Perhaps you can tell this proverb pushes some buttons for me? Well, yes, how perceptive of you! You caught me. While I always strive for completely unbiased, objective analysis (I said strive), in this case I feel too strongly not to make an exception. This proverb happens to correspond with a serious (and admittedly compulsive) need of mine to “get credit” for the most trivial of tidbits, and the subsequent irrational rage that bubbles forth when said credit goes unassigned—or, G-d forbid, is given to someone else! It’s quite the paradox, really: fulfilling the mitzvah of Tzedakah with zero fanfare doesn’t faze me a bit, but G-d help me (and Ben) if my husband doesn’t give me credit every time (and I mean every time, for the rest of time) he references a restaurant, musician, or book that I and I alone discovered (in mixed company, alone in the car, or whatever). … I know I sound meshugga, but who’s the one who willingly proposed to this nut, and married her yet? Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! Well, my endearing idiosyncrasies aside, we must address the serious problem at hand: how to ensure the unpresuming pot receives its accurately-allocated accolades and the pirating plate takes a back-seat. The solution? I propose a (convenient 4-step) revolution!

1. At next year’s Seder, I encourage you to grab that charlatan of a Seder plate (how dare it sit there in all its decorative fraudulence acting the centerpiece! Tuh!) and throw it through the nearest window, or to the ground. (If the dining room is carpeted, I encourage the former option; otherwise, just go with your gut.)
2. Head directly to the kitchen and retrieve the self-effacing pot from the sink’s sudsy depths. (Remember to breathe through your mouth to avoid the stench of sulfur. … Bubbe, in all her lovable paranoia, still insists on boiling the eggs for G-d knows how long to kill even the distant memory of any salmonella.)
3. Return triumphantly to the dining room (stay focussed—there'll be plenty of shouting) and climb atop the folding table (you may need to use uncle Sal’s bald head to steady yourself).
4. With feet planted firmly (this might be a good opportunity to “accidentally” step in aunt Ida’s carrot kugel, thus preventing anyone from “enjoying” it this year ... darn it), raise the humble cookware above your head and, in your most confident voice, proclaim that “From this day forward, the pot shall take its rightful place of honor in the center of this Seder table!”

… Look, at the very least, all that running around will keep you from nodding off.

Appropriate usage?

While writing out the bills one evening, Bluma hears the distinct sounds of exaggerated footsteps coming down the stairs. She’d know them anywhere: the signature cue that her eldest daughter, Mayah, originated to alert everyone within 100 yards that she is displeased—or, as she often puts it, that her life is over! (If this were truly ever the case, Mayah’s number of lives would rival a litter’s worth of cats.) Sure enough, Mayah appears in full pout and flops down in the chair opposite her mother. Bluma smiles to herself at how her daughter, at 18, can embody all the poise of a woman 10 years her senior one moment, and regress to middle school-levels of immaturity the next. …

Mayah: “This is so colossally unfair!”

Bluma: [without looking up from her work] “What is, dear?”

Mayah: “Hello! Miriam?!”

Bluma: [looks up] “I’m going to need more information. And would you sit properly? You’re going to ruin my chairs.”

Mayah: [lets the chair fall forward onto all four legs, then whines]: “Maaaa, you’ve gotta be kidding! I know what you and Daddy are planning! I heard you guys talking. I know you’re getting Miriam a car for graduation!! I can’t believe you guys! I graduated last year and I got bubkes!”

A look from her mother forces Mayah to admit …

Mayah: “OK, fine, I got to go to New York with my friends, but still! A car?!?”

Bluma: “First of all, my dear, you sound like a spoiled brat. Second of all, not that I need to justify your father’s and my actions to you, but it’s a used car. And most importantly, this is a major accomplishment for your sister. You know we weren’t even sure if she was going to graduate. Your father and I want to recognize what a big deal this is. Besides, Zeyde gave you his car when you turned 16, and I don’t think you want a second insurance payment just to go tit for tat with your sister.”

Mayah: “Yeah, well, who do you think got Miriam through high school, basically single handed!?! I’m the one who’s been tutoring her since junior year and, no offense, but I totally basically wrote half her papers for her! If it weren’t for me, she’d be a super-senior like that creeper Jeffrey Manning with the receding hairline!”

Bluma: “He’s a student?! My G-d, I thought he was the phys ed teacher! Yikes. Anyway, Mayah, you know we appreciate how much you’ve helped Miriam, but what can I tell ya, kid? Like my Bubbe used to say, sometimes in life, The food is cooked in a pot and the plate gets the honor.”

Mayah: “You guys suck.”

Vayz a khazer a finger vil er di gantse hant.

I guess it’s fair to say that we Jews have a serious beef with the pig. Even the most sheltered gentile is aware that the pig serves as the poster-animal for all things trayf. But why? The Torah states in Leviticus (11:3):

“Whatsoever parts the hoof, and is clovenfooted [and] chews the cud, among the beasts, that shall you eat.”

The case against pork is laid out not once, but twice in the Torah, in both Leviticus and Deuteronomy. (Presumably to eliminate the possibility of this facet of Kashrut being dismissed as a typo. I mean, come on! First circumcision and now this?!) I can hear you now: “But wait! Pigs do have cloven feet! That must count for something! Next stop Hormel Headquarters!” Nice try but no such luck. Evidently the tasty goodness of pork was already common knowledge in Biblical times and so poor Piglet was singled out just a few lines later in Leviticus (11:7):

“And the chazer though he divide the hoof, and be cloven hoofed, yet he chews not the cud; he [is] tamei to you.”

So alas, at Kosher breakfast tables everywhere Jews are choking down matte morsels of turkey bacon while the rest of the world wallows in porcine paradise. (Well, except Muslims. Speaking of which, couldn’t our shared hog-deprivation unite us? I guess that’s another conversation entirely. ...) Kosher Jews living in the USA especially have to muster a level of willpower that warrants kudos from Gandhi himself. Just turn on the Food Network and you’ll find evidence that Americans are currently in the midst of a serious love affair with the pig, from roasting it whole to sprinkling its rendered bits on cupcakes to—oh yes—battering and deep frying it. …

Is that freedom I smell?

Not to launch into a full-on kvetch session, but our suffering doesn’t stop at porcine privation. Several of what are considered to be America’s tastiest treats are also off-limits to Kosher Jews. For instance, Kosher New Englanders must go a lifetime without lobster, and Kosher southerners (there must be some, right?) have to order their grits sans shrimp. That’s not to say that we don’t give in to temptation (imitation crab meat can’t possibly sustain all of us forever!) Sheer curiosity alone, not to mention the resurgence of the mystical McRib (although the Jury’s still out on its actual pork content), has sent many of us tumbling off the wagon to sample our first taste of the taboo. With all this said, it’s no wonder that so few modern American Jews like myself keep a Kosher house these days (15% of us to be exact—I feel so special!).

Temptation aside however, for many Jews the question of how relevant these dated dicta are to our modern lives is enough to put the kibosh on Kosher completely. But for those of us who fall somewhere in the middle of the Kosher spectrum, the question of relevance is eclipsed by a desire, a choice, to honor tradition in an effort to ground ourselves by achieving a greater connection with G-d, our ancestors, our culture, or a mishmash of all three. Our love of symbolism and respect for knowledge allows those of us who choose to do so to carry on traditions while embracing science and modern knowledge. In fact, new and challenging information doesn’t threaten our connection with these rituals, but, rather, it strengthens it by enriching our understanding of the past. Historians have helped us to grasp how these seemingly arbitrary rules about hooves and cud, along with most other Biblical directives, were born more from the sensible than the sacred. For instance, when it comes to the pig, many modern secular sources propose that our distaste of the animal is rooted in the fact that, though not stipulated as such in Kashrut, the animal consumes far more than it provides as a food source. But what else should we expect from a pig? (A reputation that dates back to Biblical times must be hard to shake!)

Accurate or not, this hypothesis hints at the reasons behind the cautionary quip in question. While the Torah only proclaims we must pass on the pork, this proverb warns that the pig’s impropriety prevails well beyond the bounds of the dinner plate. While most modern Jews wouldn’t balk at bingeing on boar, it’s the animal’s own insatiable appetite that makes this proverb still relevant today. Kosher or not, one would be ill-advised to hobnob with a hungry hog. If only poor Kermit would have gotten the message in time. ...

Appropriate usage?

Rona is 20 minutes late to meet her husband David for supper and the traffic is terrible. By the time she arrives, David has eaten his way through two-and-a-half complementary bread baskets. …

Rona: “Oh Darling! I’m so sorry I’m so very late! You must be starving to death!”

David: “I would be if it weren’t for this damn bread! They just keep bringing it. ... I feel like the Hindenburg. What happened to you?”

Rona: “Oh David, you know all that starch is going to bind you up. We’ll have to stop for—”

David: “Rona, dear. Enough with the prunes. All they do is give me gas and I can’t bear the cliché! I’m old. I get it. But I have to draw the line somewhere! It’s enough that we’ll consider this a ‘late’ supper when it’s still well before 6 o’clock. Meanwhile, you never answered my question—nu, zog shoyn, my tuchus is asleep and I’m not long behind it!”

Rona: “Ugh! Vos zol ikh makhen? I spent the afternoon with that chaleria, Roberta Liebovitz!”

David: “Do I have pumpernickel in my ears or are you meshugga?”

Rona: “Ugh, I can be such a shnook sometimes—”

David: [reaches for a piece of rye] “You said it, I didn’t.”

Rona: [slaps his hand away, gives him a look] “I had no choice! She cornered me after our last Hadassah meeting and gave me the usual guilt trip. She’s ‘an old widow with no children and a bum leg.’ Boy, that’s one magic injury! I’ve never seen a limp alternate legs depending on the day! She said it would just take 15 minutes.” [shakes her head] “She just needed a ride to the chiropodist. I should have known! Next thing I know, I’m carrying her dry cleaning through the grocery store (because G-d forbid it gets a fold hanging in the back seat!) while she pushes a cart up and down every… single… one… of those aisles at a snail’s pace! I thought my arm was going to fall off! The only reason I got out of going into her Bermuda Triangle of an apartment to hang some fakata picture was because I told her you were deathly allergic to cats and so I couldn’t risk getting hair on me ... which, by the way, means you’ll have to work on your fake sneezes before Saturday services. You know her seat is right behind ours. Oy, what was I thinking? A master thespian, you are not … she’ll never buy it! Here, hand me some of those pepper packets, I’ll keep them in my purse just in case.”

David: “I can’t believe you’re involving me in this! Next you’ll have me fake a heart attack, G-d forbid! What, are we gonna rent a hospital room for the sake of authenticity? Rona, how many times do I have to say it? Show a pig a finger and he'll want the whole hand.”

Shop for this Yiddish proverb!

Shop for all gifts that celebrate this quote in our store! 

Me ken nit iberloifen di levoneh.

Many modern-day Jews are unaware that the moon is an important and controversial figure in Jewish lore. Historically, our glamorous satellite has stood as a symbol for everything from G-d’s visible throne, to pure love, to the Jewish people themselves, as well as the very embodiment of Shekhinah, G-d’s feminine side. But above all else, Madame Moon has demonstrated some serious chutzpah!

She asserts herself right from the get-go when, in Act 1, Scene 1 of Genesis, she debuts with a bang in a rather tense scene—one that would prompt my pathologically-non-confrontational husband to assume the fetal position. Here, the moon tries to school G-d on his redundancy in making “two great lights,” and she actually winds up teaching the Holy One a lesson. How’s that for “all that (snap, snap, snap) and a bag of chips?” This early display of fortitude is no doubt why Lilith, our first fierce and fabulous feminist, is considered a dark moon goddess. For those of you unfamiliar with this lady, Lilith is a deliciously scandalous figure in Jewish Folklore. Lean in while, G-d forgive me, I lay down some lashon hara. …

You see, it turns out Eve was not Adam’s first wife. Shocking, I know! Legend has it that Lilith was made from the same earth as Adam, and at the same time. Despite this inherent equality, she was still expected to be subservient to Adam, and, when she refused (you go, girl!), she was banished from Eden and the supposedly-submissive Eve was created in her place. Ironic how the boys got their panties in a twist over Lilith’s backbone but a woman born of Adam’s rib got the couple kicked out of the garden! But I digress. The point is, this fabulous forbear of the Famous Five is just another powerful personification of our mighty moon, and, despite the fact that all these stories may seem irrelevant to our modern lives, they are proof that the Moon has been making waves since the beginning. (Literally.) In fact, the Moon’s staying power is what makes this proverb more relevant now than ever. After all, what’s more enduring and un-out-runnable than the Moon? Oh dear, I can tell what you’re thinking by that smirk on your face. The Moon sounds a lot like your monstrous mother-in-law?

• Both are older than dirt.
• Both seem to be omnipresent.
• Both will surely outlive us all.
• Not even a motorized cheetah could outrun them for long because, as with the tortoise and the hare, their slow yet relentless motion will eventually overcome.

Hah hah, very clever. I can see you’re quite proud of yourself. (Although I do hope you realize there’s a good chance she’s reading over your shoulder as we speak.)

Appropriate usage?

While her father, Joe, leaves her room to see her mother off to work, Becky takes the opportunity to warm the digital thermometer against the bulb of her bedside light. Moments later she hears Joe’s footsteps on the stairs, and, before shoving the toasty thermometer back in her mouth, she quickly licks her palms (a trick to simulate clammy hands that she learned watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off). Joe perches on the edge of his daughter’s bed with a dubious look on his face. [beep beep beeeep] He removes the thermometer from Becky’s exaggerated pout and glances at the readout. …

Joe: “Becky, this sudden illness is very strange. You were well enough to go to Shelly's party last night. Maybe that is where you caught this dreadful disease? Perhaps we should skip the doctor and go straight to the Emergency Room. G-d forbid we take any chances!”

Becky: “You’re not buying this are you, Dad?”

Joe: “Not for a minute. Why do you want to miss school, Beck? It can’t be a test, I never see you without a book.”

Becky: [tears up] “Dad, I can’t ever go back to school! I just can’t! I’ll die if I go back! I’ll just die!” [crying]

Joe: “Becky, that’s meshuggeneh! You have to go to school! What could have possibly happened in the last 18 hours to turn you into a hermit?!”

Becky: “Everything, Dad! Everything!” [crying] “Can’t we move? I’ll go to a different school! Come on, Dad! Mom can be a lawyer anywhere and you’re just a Dad—sorry! You know what I mean! Please!??!?”

Joe: “Becky, be rational. Talk to me! Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. There’s a solution to everything.”

Becky: [exhales sharply, resigned] “Fine, I’ll tell you, but there’s no way to fix my life being totally ruined. ... Last night? At Shelly’s? I finally got up the nerve to talk to Thomas; you know, that boy from Math I was telling you about? Well, we’re talking and I don’t remember what I said, but then all of a sudden Barry Gershel, that jerk, dumped a soda down my back and Dinah said she thinks she saw Thomas kind of laugh!!! See?!?! I can never face him or anyone at school ever again!! I just can’t!!!”

Joe: “Oh Becky, honey. I know you won’t believe me but even if Thomas did laugh, which could’ve been just a reflex or out of nerves, I promise you, your life is not ruined! You’re 14, G-d willing you have a long and beautiful life ahead of you, and I promise that in a week’s time nobody will remember what happened at Shelly’s. You have to face this, my love. The longer you hide at home, the scarier it’s going to be to go back to school. (And before you say anything, you have to go back to this school.) I know this seems like the end of the world to you, sweetheart, but I promise, even you will forget all about this in time. Besides, you know what Zeyde always says: You can’t outrun the moon.”

Becky: “I know, Dad. I’m just scared. I’m sorry I lied about being sick. By the way, how did you know?”

Joe: “You’re running a fever of 124.”

Shop for this Yiddish proverb!

Shop for all gifts that celebrate this quote in our store! 

In a tsholnt un in a shidukh kukt men nit tsufil arayn.

“There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal!” We’re all familiar with this evocative sentiment. It no doubt brings to mind images of the archetypal Italian grandmother shooing her salivating kin out of her kitchen so she can toil away on her tiptoes for hours at the stove, tweaking her famous tomato sauce.

Well, I hate to call out the Emperor for being without his clothes, but not everyone’s grandmother can cook. Believe me, I know! To me, that image is as foreign and fanciful as that of Mr. Claus and his minion of mercurial munchkins. I myself was not blessed with a gastronomically gifted grandma (although she could schmear schmear like nobody’s business). You see, with Bubbes especially, it can be a real crapshoot. Some have it and some don’t. (To be fair, the fact that they’re saddled with staples such as liver and onions and a roster of ingredients that includes matzah farfel puts them at a serious disadvantage.)

But regardless, clichés are born of someone’s truth, if not necessarily my own. Somewhere out there exists a variety of matriarch whose culinary wizardry is so abounding that her offspring are compelled to utter the above sentiment without a trace of sarcasm ... fascinating.

Will all this said, there is perhaps no greater litmus test (a fitting analogy considering the potential for acid reflux) for a Bubbe’s skills in the kitchen than the infamous Cholent. For those of you lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the dish, Cholent is a meat stew born of Shabbat restrictions. Because Jewish law prohibits us from lighting a fire on the Sabbath, this stew is assembled ahead of time then simmered for at least 12 hours and usually eaten for kiddush. Sounds appetizing, doesn’t it? The truth is, this dish can be quite literally a recipe for disaster.

1. As a rule, a nosh born of necessity rather than flavor is often a clinker (think matzah).
2. Since Cholent is constructed at the week’s end, many cooks see this as an opportunity to clear out their fridge of its dregs and, as a result, odd combinations of limp veggies, leftovers, and unidentifiable trimmings often form the base of this brew.
3. The misconception that no matter how mismatched the ingredients, if they simmer together in a stove-top schvitz long enough (remember, this concoction traditionally cooks for at least half a day), everything will work itself out. If only!

Regardless, even the most coordinated components are often robbed of their palate-pleasing potential (not to mention discernible texture) after half a day or longer on the fire. In short, it takes one hell of a balaboosta to pull off a tasty Cholent, and with odds like that I’d sooner put my money on the fat man in the red suit. Whether one observes the laws of the Sabbath or not, for many Jews—even secular ones—the tradition of eating Cholent has inexplicably lingered. Much like the very stench generated by my grandmother’s recipe.

Given the risk involved with Cholent, you’ve probably concluded that this proverb, with its comparison between our meat stew and all engaged couples, is among our harshest. It may surprise you but even I think this particular saying is unfairly biased toward the cynical. While it may be true that some betrothed, like some Cholents, should only be approached after a generous glass or three of Manischewitz, there are plenty of engaged couples who could easily stand up to even the closest scrutinizing, and, all joking aside, the same is true of plenty of meat stews. With this said however, we should certainly not dismiss this metaphor. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s because of the existence of such a duality that the comparison is especially appropriate. The proverb’s slanted statement doesn’t make it wrong, just not completely right. With engaged couples, as with meat stews, there’s a lot of risk involved; sometimes it works and sometimes it gives you an ulcer. The truth is, in both cases, ingredients (be they meat and veggies, or lovers and in-laws) are thrown in a pot (literally or metaphorically) and left to simmer in the hopes that the flavors will successfully marry.

Warning: the following disclaimer is uncharacteristically schmaltzy!

It must be said that I am in no way implying there is any correlation between savory cholents and successful engagements. Take me for example, since the Great Scales of my life have balanced out so nicely: my Bubbe’s litmus paper may have burned a fiery red, but my marriage could not be yummier.

Appropriate usage?

Abigail and Jerry are enjoying their evening ritual of dinner and Jeopardy. On tonight’s menu: leftover cholent and The Teen Tournament (both of which Jerry is doing his best to endure). ...

Abigail: “Jerr, guess who I ran into today at Nordstrom’s? Marci’s daughter and that fiance of hers. What a shame. All day I can’t stop thinking about that poor girl ... what could she possibly see in that Trombenik? She’s a doctor, and he? He’s at Nordstrom’s on a Tuesday afternoon, letting her buy him a suit! And the whole time we’re talking, he’s got one eye on his reflection!! Useless! That poor girl! And Marci, my G-d! What a shonda! I tell you, Jerry, I don’t get it!”

Jerry: “It’s like my grandfather used to say, With a meat stew, as with an engaged couple, one does not look too closely.”

Abigail: “I see what you did there, Jerr. You’re a regular Jackie Mason. So eat with your eyes closed if you don’t like the looks of it!”

Shop for this Yiddish proverb!

Shop for all gifts that celebrate this quote in our store! 

Di libeh is zis, mit broit iz zi besser.

Our culture is up to its eyeballs in age-old debates, arguments over which we would not hesitate to go to the mattresses:

• The Beatles vs. The Stones
• Superman vs. The Hulk (shout out to Ben for this reference!)
• Deep dish vs. Thin crust
• Soup as a snack vs. Soup as a meal
• Etc.

But perhaps the most contentious quarrel has been over the question,”Who loves carbs more, Italians or Jews?” Now obviously I’m biased, so I’m not going to enter the fray… but I have prepared a brief list for your consideration.

Top 7 Reasons Why There Is No Contest: Jews Love Their Carbs More Than Anyone

1. We’ll go a lifetime without bacon but can’t be without bread for more than a week in the spring. And even then we have to fill the void by shmearing butter onto glorified cardboard.
2. Speaking of which, one of our most revered feats was surviving 40 years in the desert without the yeasty fix. So revered in fact that we made the commemoration of our endurance into a big-time holiday. (But not so revered that we’d be willing to go without for longer than a week. Come to think of it, for all we know Moses and the Israelites were only in the desert for a fortnight but it felt like 40 years in the absence of bread. That’s love.)
3. Challah bread is the honored guest at Shabbat dinner (one of the most important observances for Jews), and the climactic blessing is said over the infant-sized, luscious loaf. She’s made with a hen house worth of eggs, dressed up in braids for the occasion, and tastefully covered with a linen napkin prior to the big reveal, so as not to entice eager onlookers.
4. Bagels.
5. The majority of Italian entrees may involve pasta, but we make noodles into a dessert.
6. Rye bread is the ultimate unifier and transcends all cultures and religions. Precarious meetings of heads of state should be held at Katz Deli.
7. The Torah (the book that Jews interpret and reinterpret and debate on end, the study of which being one of the most sacred and important undertakings) states clearly: “If there is no flour, there is no Torah. If there is no Torah, there is no flour.” (Pirkei Avot 3:17) Metaphor, shmetaphor; this is one part of the Torah most Jews choose to take literally.

Well, I think that settles it. For Jews, everything is better with bread, even love … so much so that even the most accomplished Balaboosta will tolerate a few crumbs between the sheets.

Appropriate usage?

Rachel is home from college and she and her mother, Diane, are catching up while setting the table for shabbat dinner. …

Diane: “Rachel, darling, you’re glowing! I haven’t seen you this happy since before you broke up with that klafte of a girl, Alison!”

Rachel: “Ma! You really have to let that go!” [breaking into a smile] “Besides, I met someone!!!!”

Diane: “Oh Rachel! Mazel, my love! I knew it! What did I tell you? Do I know my daughter or what? What am I saying?? Nu, zog shoyn! What is she like?? What do her parents do?? Oh G-d, she’s not another shiksa is she?? As long as I live, I’ll never understand why—”

Rachel: “Ma! Relax! You didn’t blink an eye when I told you I’m a lesbian but you make a federal case if I date someone who isn’t Jewish?! Too much, Ma! Well, you’ll be happy to know her name’s Shoshana and, yes, she’s a nice Jewish girl.”

Diane: “Oh Rachel!!!Oh Rachel, I’m kvelling!! Quick, hand me a napkin. I’m getting all verklempt!!”

Rachel: “Your mascara’s fine, Ma. Anyway, I am so happy. She’s beautiful and has such an amazing heart and she’s so good to me and, oh, I really think I’m falling for her! But Ma, there is something I have to tell you about Shoshana.”

Diane: “I should sit down. I’m sitting down. Oy vey, OK, I’m ready.”

Rachel: “Ma, stop, please, stop fanning yourself, you’re being so dramatic. It’s no big deal. It’s just that Shoshana follows a strict Paleo diet.”

Diane: “A diet?! Who doesn’t! Does it work? What—”

Rachel: “It’s not a weight-loss diet; it’s more like a health philosophy. And, well, I’ve been reading some of the books she has around and it really makes sense to me.”

Diane: “Oh. Dear. G-d. Rachel, look at me. Are there meetings? Does she wear sneakers?? She hasn’t asked you to drink anything, has she?!?”

Rachel: “MA! This is not a cult! It’s a new thing. It’s like being vegetarian or vegan. Celebrities follow it.”

Diane: “Celebrities? Really?”

Rachel: “Yes, mother. Big ones too, like Matthew McConaughey and Jessica Biel.”

Diane: “Ooh! She’s married to my Justin Timberlake! Maybe I could do Paleo!”

Rachel: “The thing is, Ma ... it’s based on evolutionary medicine and the fact that people are fundamentally unchanged since before the dawn of agriculture, and the belief is that the healthiest way to eat is to eat only what the cavemen did.”

Diane: “That’s it? You nearly gave me a heart attack because this amazing, beautiful, loving woman you think you might be falling for eats like Fred Flintstone?? Vos makht iz mir oys?”

Rachel: “Think about it, Ma: hunting and gathering. Not sowing and plowing; no grains.”

Diane: “Grains?! Like carbs!?! I’m sitting down again.”

Rachel: “Ma, you said it yourself, who cares about some diet? I could love this woman!”

Diane: “Love is sweet but it’s nicer to have bread with it. Besides, what are you going to say the blessing over, a head of lettuce?”

Shop for this Yiddish proverb!

Shop for all gifts that celebrate this quote in our store! 

Keyner zet nit zayn eygenem hoyker.

I have a special fondness for this particular proverb. (Yes, I know, I’m playing favorites—you can wipe that judgmental look off your face! Just mark this tendency of mine down as yet another reason why I should probably never have children.) But why am I partial to this proverb? You’re probably surprised, considering it’s pretty much old news. Haven’t I heard? People in glass houses shouldn’t yada yada ... something about The Stones gathering moss … Well, Keith Richards does look a little downy if you ask me, but what do you expect? They’ve been touring for half a century! Anyway, that’s beside the point.

It’s not the admittedly-clichéd wisdom behind this particular proverb that charms me, it’s the way said wisdom is articulated and, by extension, what that says about us Jews.

First of all, unlike in the aforementioned “glass house” example, we Jews aren’t gettin’ all up in your business and telling you what to do. Nope. In our proverb, we’re just stating a simple fact about human nature, take it or leave it. That may seem odd coming from a people who have 613 commandments, but let me take this opportunity to explain: all those rules and regulations are not blindly imposed but willingly and thoughtfully embraced. We opt in to our faith, much like a timeshare in Boca Raton. It has been said that not only are we the Chosen People, but we are the choosing people as well. In fact, we have a rather intense policy against recruitment.

Fun Fact! Did you know that it’s customary for a Rabbi to turn an adamant potential convert away three times before the conversion process can begin?

This proverb is wonderfully Jewish in that it just lays it all out on the table for you. The rest is up to you. Throw a stone! What do we care? It’s your house! (With this said, we can therefore safely assume that this proverb was not coined by anyone’s mother-in-law.)

The second aspect of this proverb that I find especially intriguing is its choice of metaphor. There are a gazillion ways one could paint this picture, so why the hump? In anticipation of your guesses: No, Quasimodo wasn’t a Jew; and yes, the word “hump” is wonderfully effective at inciting fits of immature giggling. But I have another theory: I find it fascinating that the Jewish adaptation of this proverb asserts that the massive metaphorical goiter we all possess—and ignore, and criticize others for—is not only unsightly but also a great burden. We are saddled with our shame and must go through life schlepping the weighty load. In the end, proverb vs. proverb, I propose that the hump beats the house (glass, that is) any day. For what it lacks in bossiness it makes up for in arresting and thought-provoking truth.

Appropriate usage?

Rhoda walks in the kitchen, throws her handbag on the table, and plops down in a chair with head in hands. Abe looks up from his bowl of kasha and turns to his wife. …

Abe: “Something the matter, Ahuvi?”

Rhoda: “Oh Abe! 45 minutes I sat there listening to that woman.”

Abe: “Why do you bother with that yuchna??”

Rhoda: “Abe, I like the book club! Ida’s in it! What choice do I have?”

Abe: “Alright, Rho, out with it. What did the ‘Great Luminary’ have to say today?”

Rhoda: “Oh Abe, she was in rare form! There she was, perched on her armless chair, wearing that shmata of a moo moo, and in between bites of Marcy’s chocolate babka, she has the audacity to tell me that I look as though I’ve ‘put on a few pounds!’ You know I haven’t seen her since we got back from our cruise? Well, she went on to lecture me about how maybe I’m ‘not cut out to go on cruises, because one needs a great deal of self-control around all that food’ and that I should ‘look into one of those “health retreats” instead!’ You know what that means! She wants to send me to a fat farm!?!? It was so embarrassing! How can she say such things when she—ugh!”

Abe: “Oh Ahuvi, you know the old saying! No one sees the hump on his own back. Which is especially impressive in this case because Ida wears hers in the front!”

Rhoda: [laughter] “Oh Abe! You’re too much!!”

Shop for this Yiddish proverb!

Shop for all gifts that celebrate this quote in our store!