This week, a game of two halves: one of no consequence whatsoever and the other that may tear this country apart. (What is particularly disturbing is that this is only one of the two or three items in the news threatening to tear the country apart.)
I’m going to get the serious stuff out of the way first.
Last week, I buried my head in the sand. This week, I can’t bring myself to ignore all of the stories that are vying for attention in the media. So here’s just one.
In Jerusalem last week, I was approached in the street by a haredi beggar. I dismissed him with a wave of the hand, feeling a mixture of two emotions.
Many years ago, I heard a far better person than me quoted as saying that, if someone is reduced to approaching strangers in the street to ask for money, you should contemplate for a moment what can have brought them to these straits, and what this humbling of themselves may be costing them emotionally, and then you won’t feel able to deny them at least a token donation. They are, after all, providing you with the opportunity to do a mitzvah.
So, one emotion I felt when I waved this beggar away was a tinge of guilt. As it happens, I had no change on me. These days, I don’t normally take my change purse with me when I go out. Of course, I realise that, at some level, failing to take it is a convenient way of avoiding having to deal with the question of whether I want to give some change.
The other emotion was the fleeting thought, which is habitual with me, that if you are prepared, and able-bodied enough, to be out on the street in all weathers begging for small change, then you could, with less effort, find and hold down a job that would pay at least as well. This is not a thought that I am particularly proud of, but there it is.
Earlier today, I realised that, the next time a haredi man approaches me in the street to ask for money, I may not be able to resist giving him not a couple of coins but a piece of my mind. The dialogue I have prepared in my head goes something like this.
‘Have you completed military or national (public) service?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I devote my life to studying Torah.’
‘How does that contribute to the nation as a whole during this war?’
‘My learning contributes to Israel’s victory and helps protect the soldiers.’
‘Then why are you frittering away your time now begging for money when you could be studying Torah? Surely if, by dint of your study, HaShem will protect our soldiers, then by dint of your study, HaShem will provide for your material needs.’
Actually, in light of today’s headlines, I plan to give him two pieces of my mind. Here is the second.
‘There is a serious shortage of manpower in the army that could be met by haredim if they chose to serve. Because of that shortfall, many reservists have served, over the last year and a half, 200 or more days of reserve duty. As a consequence of that, 41% of them have been fired from their jobs or lost their businesses.’ (I may have to explain to him that 41% means more than 4 in every 10.)’Many of these reservists have wives, or husbands, and children. How dare you turn to the Israeli public and ask for money when these people are sacrificing their economic stability in order to defend the nation, which includes you? How dare you?’
You may want to pause here, to avoid the incredibly abrupt change of gear.
Last Shabbat afternoon found me diving down some diverting rabbit holes in the Collins English Dictionary. (I’m the guy who reads the dictionary so that you don’t have to.) On the journey, I encountered a couple of things that I thought I might share with you today.
Let’s do this in the form of a quiz. Do you know what these trousers are called?
One point if you answered knickerbockers. However, if you recognised them as a particular breed of knickerbocker, and correctly identified them as plus fours, then give yourself two points.
When I stumbled on the etymology of plus fours on Shabbat, I was staggered. How, I asked myself, can I have lived for 75 years, and, for at least 60 of them, known what plus fours are, and never asked myself ‘Why? Why are plus fours called plus fours?’
The utterly charming answer is that your standard knickerbocker is cut so that it ends at the knee. However, the distinctive look of the plus four is achieved by adding another four inches of material to the leg. Plus four inches: obvious, isn’t it?
While we’re giving out points, here’s another opportunity to pit your wits. What do the following words have in common?
Bangle, bungalow, chintz, chutney, cot, gymkhana, juggernaut, shampoo, thug, toddy.
Give yourself one point if you answered that they all came into English from Hindi, during the period when the British ruled India. Before we get to the bonus points, let us pause to note that the ‘gym’ in ‘gymkhana’ is a corruption. The origin of the word is the Hindi gend-khana, which means a ‘ball house’ or ‘racquet court’ and is a place where sports activities take place. As the term was adopted by the British in India, ‘gend’ was altered to ‘gym’, purely under the influence of words like ‘gymnastics’.
Now here is your chance to earn five bonus points. When I look at the above list of words from Hindi, one of them stands out for me. I can understand how most of them were adopted in English: they described activities or objects that were characteristic of India and not of England. However, when I read the list, one word puzzled me. Surely, I thought, this is something that was adopted in England rather than in India. Which word do you think that was?
Shampoo: my limited experience of India suggests that 19th Century Indians washed their hair with river water rather than shampoo. How can shampoo have come into English from Hindi.
A ten-point bonus for anyone who worked out that, in Hindi, champna is a verb meaning to press, knead or massage, and the original adoption in English was for the process of massaging the scalp, then for the process of applying shampoo by massaging the scalp, and only then for the soapy liquid itself.
None of which is of any consequence whatsoever, but at least it won’t get me into trouble with any Haredi beggars I encounter in the coming days.