The Psychological Dilemma in Shifting Pronunciation

"People don't grow old. When they stop growing, they become old" - Ageless Body, Timeless Mind by Deepak Chopra

'The large Ayin and Dalet spell Ayd, witness, alluding to the verse in Isaiah, "You are my witnesses.…"' - Baal HaTurim


I don't pronounce Hebrew like most affiliated Jews. This is not hubris. I am stating this simply as fact.

While I was studying in Yeshiva I happened to come across the laws of Kriath Shema in the Shulkhan Arukh and noticed that one should be meticulous while pronouncing specific letters. (See also, Talmud Bavli, Berakhot 13b, Rambam, Hilkhoth Kriyath Shema 2:9, Raavad 'He must extend the dalet...some say, he also shouldn't extend the Alef too much, so that it doesn't sound like ei chad.' Also see the following for a concise piece on the permissibility to switch one's pronunciation: download.yutorah.org/2009/1109/735745.pdf). After learning the subject I went to one of the Rabbanim whom I respected, a former student of Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook of 12 years, and was told that I was forbidden to change. I found his reasoning unconvincing and sought out Rabbanim who I considered experts in this area and was ultimately shown and studied a sefer called 'Sfat Emet' with a rather strong and personally convincing haskama by none other than Rabbi Yakov Kamanetsky. In it he writes that one should change his or her pronunciation since this is the truth and one should be guided by such convictions. He acknowledges that most will not change but that this should not deter others from doing so. When reexamining the subject with the aforementioned Rav and presenting my arguments, he answered with a raising of the eyebrow and said, 'don't be strange', and that my prospects for a future wife may be comprimised if I continue to follow down this path. I asked him if he thought that the Radak, Rav Sadiah Gaon and Rav Yakov Kamanetsky were strange, he paused for a moment and said, 'ok, just don't let anyone else hear you.' It is worth mentioning that his predilection was so strong that his first reading of Rav Yakov Kamanetsky's approbation was completely misunderstood until I asked him to examine it for a second time.

Since that time I have been asked by many who sit close to me during davening and overhear me as to whether I am Sefardi, Moraccan, or simply curious as to where my family is from. I have had individuals react with a range of emotions from indifference, to mild curiosity to outright angst. I have been told that even if it is the truth that it is irrelevant. However, the most curious of reactions that I receive is when I mention that Rav Yakov Kamanetsky considered this to be the truth and states so unequivocally. On most occasions there is no pause for pondering, only the adamant proclamation that Rav Yakov never engaged in this pronunciation himself. I can only guess that the reaction is a means to traverse rapidly to a psychological safe-haven which requires a complete abdication of thought. As Christopher Hitchens eloquently stated, 'There is obviously a connection between the sheer feebleness of this claim and the absolutely fanatical certainty with which it is advanced.'

On one occasion however, I found myself saying Kadish for a friend of the family at the Jewish Heritage Center located in Queens New York. The Rabbi / Scholar in Residence, Rabbi Shurin, the Rosh Midrasha of Midreshet Rachel v'Chaya College of Jewish Studies for Women, turned to me and said, 'Where did you pick up that pronunciation?' I answered that I found it in the Shulchan Arukh, and learned from my Rav Muvhak that it is desirable (and admirable) to pronounce this way. He mentioned that there is a sefer, 'Sfat Emet' and my eyes lit up. 'Most people are not aware of that book. One thing that I was always curious about was the introduction by Rav Yakov Kamanetsky.' He smiled as I continued, 'Did he actually pronounce Hebrew in the manner that he himself speaks so highly of and with such great conviction?' He answered with a simple, 'yes he did.' 'How do you know?' I asked. 'He told me' was his reply. We went on to discuss whether this was limited to Kriath Shema or not and I was left with a great sense of feeling vindicated in some way. In my excitement I approached Rabbi Turk and told him the story. He asked me, 'Do you know who he is?...He is Rav Yakov Kamanetsky's grandson.'

This is more than just a story. It is 'The Story'. Will the drama of our own lives lead to authenticity or playing to the crowd? Minimally I hope that it allows us to pause and be mindful of our struggle for individuation. Such recognition would be a testament to embody the true witness and allow the personal 'Ayin' and the 'Dalet' to posses something of meaning as well as magnitude.