Today
is Day Two of Week Five of the Omer. That is Thirty Days of the
Omer. The Theme continues to be Happiness.
Sometimes, I get really good input
from people who have read my blog. Today’s
entry is thanks to such input from Rachael, a friend and member of our group
here on the Gold Coast. In talking about
Happiness, Rachael suggested that chutzpah is an important tool for one
seeking happiness.
Yeah, I hear you! Chutzpah??! (I’m not sure why I’m rendering it in
italics; it has become an acceptable word in the English language.) What does chutzpah have to do with
Happiness??! And you know, I briefly
thought the same thing when Rachael said it.
Very briefly. And then I
saw it. Let me explain.
Chutzpah is a difficult term to
translate exactly. It means Gall, Nerve,
or Cheek. How about ‘Brazen Effrontery’? But all those translations don’t really do it
justice. Leo Rosten, in The Joy of
Yiddish, defined it as: that quality enshrined in a man who,
having killed his mother and father, throws himself on the mercy of the court
because he is an orphan. In terms of part of speech, chutzpah is a
noun, referring to this quality that I’m trying to describe. The person who has chutzpah is called,
in Hebrew, a chutzpan. The
equivalent Yiddish term might sound more familiar: chutzpadik.
Chutzpah is a
characteristic often considered to be emblematic of Jews. To translate that into English: people often see Jews as being chutzpadik. And there’s more than a little truth to
that. Jews generally don’t mind being
cheeky. We expect it of one
another. But there’s something more to it.
A long time
ago, I lived in Turkey for a year. It
was my last full day in the country, and I wanted to spend my remaining Turkish
Lira since it would be absolutely worthless anywhere else. So I was shopping on a commercial street in
Istanbul, shopping not out of need as much for fun. But I happened to need a white dress shirt,
so I wandered into a men’s clothing store.
Remember, I’d lived in this country for a year; therefore, I had plenty
of experience in the art of bargaining for goods. (Interestingly, Pazar means
‘marketplace’ in Turkish. Pazarlik means
the act of negotiating a price. So even
linguistically, to the Turks bargaining is an essential part of shopping!) Anyway, I was in this men’s shop trying hard
to get the price of the shirt down to what I wanted to pay for it. I was using the Turkish language. All of a sudden, the shopkeeper addressed me
in English: This price is fair. I’m not a thief, I’m a Jew! I looked at him and broke out
laughing. Ben de Yehudi, I said,
meaning: I am also a Jew. We had a good laugh together and I bought
the shirt. I don’t remember whether it
was for my price or his. It didn’t
matter. It was just play money, after all!
What I’m
trying to say, is that chutzpah is above all, playful. When we use chutzpah, it’s a sign that we
don’t take ourselves too seriously. I
don’t know about you, but one characteristic that annoys me to no end in people
– Jewish or otherwise – is when they take themselves too seriously! Hashem doesn’t take us too seriously! How do I know this? It’s self-evident! How could He have created us the way we are,
if He took us as seriously as we sometimes take ourselves?
There’s
actually a delightful Midrash on this.
After Hashem created man, the angels came to Him to complain what a mess
He’d made in doing so. They brought to
G-d all the complaints they had about this man, and they were many. It would have been better if You hadn’t created
him, they said accusingly. And
Hashem, in response, shrugged his shoulders (as it were) and said: You’re right! I shouldn’t have created him! But I did, so we’re stuck with him! (Okay, this is a paraphrase…but I think
it conveys the essence of the Midrash!)
When somebody
displays chutzpah, I take it as a sign of playfulness. Of self-depreciating humour. As a sign of someone who can laugh at himself
and others. We Jews have a well-deserved
reputation for our ability to laugh at ourselves and others. Jews have virtually invented a number of
popular styles of comedy, wit, and sarcasm.
We are famous, as a group, for not taking ourselves too seriously. And that, Dear Reader, is an important key to
Happiness. You have to learn to laugh
at yourself and at others! An excess
of seriousness leads to fatalism.
Someone who is fatalistic cannot possibly be happy. Excessively serious people are prone to
mental illness, not Happiness.
Let me quote
Bobby McFerrin – not a Jew as far as I know, but expressing sentiment that every
Jew should embrace: Don’t worry, be
happy! If we can’t allow ourselves
to be playful, to be chutzpadik, to come on strong with one another in a
delightful way, then we cannot be Happy.
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