Lost in Translation: What Does it Mean When We Aren't Fully Ourselves?
A current voice on the Tenth of Tevet
I have always find myself “on the seam” between worlds. As a a child I was born and raised in the suburbs of Chicago— and though I did not know anything else, as long as I can remember myself I lived with the feeling that I was in the wrong place. That while I was comfortable there, the world around me was so very different from anything that felt like “mine.”
At an unexpectedly young age I began to articulate this, and at the age of 14, I came home from a summer away at a Jewish camp and announced to my parents that one day I would move to Israel. My parents had visited Israel once, and like most American Jews had a fondness for the country, but my house was not particularly Zionist, and this was not expected.
Yet, I yearned to be here, and as soon as I could, I came for a summer program, and the following year I came for my sophomore year of college. I spent most of my time then either sitting in a room studying self-made flash cards with Hebrew vocabulary , or sitting quietly amongst Israelis, listening, listening, and listening some more, in an almost desperate attempt to learn the language. I am not normally so studious, but it was if I felt I had to understand not only the language, but what was behind it.
As a translator, I translate not just words, but the ideas, feelings, and culture between the words. And this is what I am trying to do with this blog, to bring you into the mind and the soul of Israelis so that you can hear not only what they are saying, but to get who they are, because I believe it will help you understand who you are.
Why am I bringing this intro to this piece today?
Today is the 10th of Tevet, the day on which we marking the beginning of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in 425 BCE, and also the translation of the Torah into Greek. You can read here why this translation has been considered throughout history as such a tragedy, and what I bring you today is a current Israeli voice explaining how this kind of “untrue” translation is something we are still experiencing today in our lives. For me, it helps me explain what was so “off” in my childhood in the US.
This piece is by Esther Lachman, the creator behind Arugot Organic Cosmetics. If it is surprising to think of a cosmetics creator as a spiritual teacher, you haven’t met Esther. She is someone whose voice I always listen to closely, and though she is not a highly public person, through her work teaching about herbs and natural healing she has built a meaningful following, and as a long-time resident of the Gaza Envelope she has used her voice to share the experience of a mother raising children under rocket fire, and during and post-October 7.
In this piece Esther begins what might sound like a LinkedIn post, but quickly reveals itself as a deep lesson to be learned from this day Jews have commemorated for thousands of years.
Ron Gvili is still in Gaza, and until he comes home we cannot fully celebrate the war’s end. But as Israel begins to move beyond two years of war, and as the Diaspora communities attempt to understand who they are and what it means to be Jews in the Diaspora now, I want to shift the blog’s focus a bit, and one thing I hope to bring here is what Israelis are sharing about our place in the world now. Though this piece was actually written before October 7, 2023, Esther’s message is so very current today, and is an excellent beginning to this conversation.
I would truly love to hear what you think of what I’ve shared here, what Esther writes, or what you are thinking about these days. Write me through Substack, or to leahhartmanwriting@gmail.com
by Esther Lachman
Has anyone ever copied you?
While many are busy summarizing the past year, in my eyes, something more important is happening this week
According to Jewish tradition, today, many years ago, King Ptolemy took 72 Jewish elders and put each one in a separate room and told them to translate the Torah into Greek so that he could study it.
Each of the rabbis changed words here and there, yet in the end, it turned out that everyone changed the same words, so that 72 Torah scrolls were translated (identically) into Greek.
And the Talmud tells us: “And darkness came to the world for three days.”
Why should the world go dark if everyone can now understand the (Torah’s) secret?
The rabbis debate and in the end say something heartbreaking that moved me enormously:
“The Torah could not translate all its needs.”
Like a code between lovers, even when trying to translate it, imitate it, duplicate it: There’s no way. Not a chance. It’s just not the same.
For the magic is not in the letters, but in the space between them.
The secret is whispered from within the act itself. In life itself.
In something that is far beyond a simple translation.
Far beyond another kind of wisdom for an Egyptian king to master.
And I always tell this story to those who ask me whether I’m afraid of my work being copied.
So first of all, I was scared. And I was copied.
Wow, how they copied.
Even without slight changes that one might expect as mere courtesy.
But over the years, I realized it was just the letters.
It’s only the way it appears to the world as it sits on the shelf.
The exact mix that every person here in the world brings – it just can’t be duplicated.
The fingerprint, the tone of voice, the look– that which is between the letters– this only you have.
Not because you are more special, smarter or prettier. No.
Only because this is how we were created - each of us a one and only rare mix in the world.
And when we attempt to copy, darkness comes to the world...
As everyone who has studied with me will testify, I am the first to praise, recommend and push people to do and to create. To bring their voice. I have many students who create beautifully and better than me because they are them. Not an imitation. But a wonderful source.
But when we as a culture try to “translate” Rosh Hashanah, which is a day of remembering, for Pope Sylvester the first (which, by the way, is also a holiday taken from pagan culture and the church tried to eradicate, but more on that another time...)
It just doesn’t work. It’s not our source, it’s not our tone and our voice.
It bothers me to see how many celebrate an imitation that is hollow and worthless beyond the economic management of the calendar in synchronization with other countries.
It’s always good to celebrate, but it’s good to celebrate us, the roots from which we came, the real connection to past time and place and essence.
“Hey, why are you so heavy? It’s a reason to celebrate! What’s the big deal?”
There are people who to this day fast on this day of the Torah’s translation, which, by the way, always falls right around January 1. And in my eyes, it is those who fast with a deep, global, broad consciousness who are actually pained by this darkness of the illusion of a global world.
The global world that was swept away by a new Nike shoe. That is, the respect, value and importance of cultures. Of originality. Of difference.
Today when you travel in London, Paris and New York you will find the same international brand stores. Flat uniformity that misses the cultural local color. The reason why we loved to see the world.
The western world has become the same and lacks character. It is missing the magic secret and the space between the words. And it is the darkness that the wise among us are sorry for.
So, sorry if I’ve upset anyone’s new year celebrations. But I promise that the sweetness of Rosh Hashanah, with an apple from the garden and honey from the beehive, will sweeten and add light.
And the main thing is that our different voices will be heard clearly. Because it is a vanishing treasure to be different. To be ourselves.
