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Tibeto-Burmese Branch. Yiddish finds its origins in the 9th century, and so through centuries it developed into a distinct language, which propelled a distinct, vibrant culture. By the early 20th century, Yiddish was spoken by about 12 million people in Europe, predominantly in Eastern Europe.
However, its tight relationship to German took a dark turn when the Nazis came to power. Their goal was to completely eliminate the Jewish people and their culture. With post-war emigration to Israel, the use of Yiddish further declined.
Today, there are only about 2 million speakers left — but this is a growing number! The German-produced Netflix miniseries Unorthodox uses Yiddish a lot over its 4 episodes. Especially when the Williamsburg habitants converse, there is nothing but Yiddish. But can we make something of it, even without subtitles? The community displayed in the show is the so-called Satmar community, named after the Hungarian city where it has its roots. These Hasidic Jews also speak their own version of Yiddish, of course.
The first sentence rings no bells. Again, this sounds like: Er ist wie jedem einen. Sounds very familiar, and I could understand the whole thing. This one is a mixed bag. But what comes after… I have no clue. The first part, nothing. Bubbe is the Yiddish word for Grandmother. This one is hard to understand, but there are parts I could understand.
While a German would understand this, it follows a different sentence structure. That different sentence structure can also be seen in usage of past tenses. But others in the Yiddish community have a different perspective.
YIVO hosts a summer Yiddish-immersion program that has seen increasing interest in the language. In fact, Brent said, the students that come to YIVO to study Yiddish break two stereotypes of students associated with learning the language: They "don't seem terribly religious" although the organization does not gather data on religiosity , and very few claim Jewish heritage.
Yiddish also seems "cool" and involves an element of hipsterism—it's a return to a culture that is at once marginalized but also familiar, says Brent. Michael Wex , the author of the surprise bestseller Born to Kvetch: Yiddish Language and Culture in All Its Moods , thinks a younger generation of secular Jews is seeking a connection to a culture and time they feel removed from.
Yiddish rises above denominations. Wex agrees that Yiddish possesses a sense of retro cool that may save it yet. He points to pop culture and social media as keepers—and encouragers—of Yiddish, arguing that Yinglish is a good first step in provoking the curiosity of potential Yiddish speakers, whether they are Jewish or not.
In a Tablet article surveying the scholarly disagreement over the mysterious origins of the language earlier this year, Batya Ungar-Sargon writes that part of the inherent quirky appeal of Yiddish in linguistic pop culture is its ability to provoke modern sensibilities while also being traditional:. Yiddish, it is an understatement to say, is not simply a language.
It's a culture, an identity, a past both comic and tragic—one that continues to inspire feelings as diverse as shame and pride, loathing and longing, philo-Semitism, anti-Semitism, and accusations of both. But what will ultimately save Yiddish from becoming a "dead" language is a renewed interest in the rich arts and culture of Yiddish. Shane Baker is a non-Jewish actor—an Episopalian, in fact, who grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, and is normally the only non-Jew in the theater troupes he belongs to.
Baker also moonlights as the head of the Congress for Jewish Culture , which recently had to close its physical offices due to lack of funding.
He says the setback "doesn't mean that we're not going forward. In fact, Baker has found some of Yiddish theater's most enthusiastic audiences in Ireland, where he traveled the day he closed the Congress for Jewish Culture to perform Waiting for Godot at a Samuel Beckett festival. There is interest. These Irish festivals are proving you don't have to be Jewish. Baker is passionate about Yiddish, despite his non-Jewish status. He feels like it is a language that literally and figuratively speaks across cultures.
It's that "fight" to save Yiddish that continues today and one that faces an uncertain future, particularly among youth. Jordan Kutzik is a year-old writer for The Yiddish Daily Forward , a newspaper founded in written exclusively for Yiddish readers. The newspaper has seen its audience decline significantly in recent years.
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