The Tongue of Abraham

"The music is the same, no?"

There were a lot of things wrong with mora (teacher) Leah's rhetorical question, not the least of which was her persistent usage of the word 'music' in place of the word 'sound.' Sure, Hebrew vowels have similar muzeek to their English counterparts, but Hebrew vowels aren't even a part of the alphabet proper. Israelis don't even write or read using vowels. It's a language that requires you to know before you know.

Let that thought simmer for too long and you're guaranteed to go insane.

Dustin, Liz, and I were sitting in class A with about twenty other students for our first day of Ivrit. Level A is the most basic class one can take. There are three year old yeladim that are better conversationalists than most of us. And our teacher felt little compunction for our twenty-plus years rooted in romantic and Latin-derived languages.

Class began at 8:30. By 8:45, we were already learning how to introduce ourselves in Ivrit. It felt like being in the first grade all over again, minus the recess privileges. We were quickly introduced to the first portion of the alphabet, from alef (A analog) through chet (Ch). Most of the Americans in the class seemed to be handling the instruction better than even I expected. But there are three Germans, two Swiss, a girl from Hong Kong, and one from France. And unfortunately for them, the class is taught in English, so for the next seven weeks, they will be have to go from their native tongue to English and then to Hebrew--an arduous task reserved only for the most dedicated or masochistic.

Things started to click into place by the end of the first hour. But then Leah threw a monkey wrench into what was fast becoming my comfort zone. She introduced script. Apparently everyone else understood that Hebrew is actually two languages--one that is spoken and one that is written.

You know that look when you realize that you're in way over your head? Well, it must have been radiating from both Dustin and I. Our teacher looked at us with a wry smile that, for me, essentially said Now you Americans are going to get a real education.

Thank you, Leah. I think I'll be picking up the pieces of my shattered preconceptions now.

For the next few hours we learned both the block (written) and script form of the first eight letters of the alphabet, as well as the six main vowels. And the really great thing about Hebrew vowels is that they aren't a part of the alphabet; they act as modifiers of each letter. So, in essence, there are six different ways to say each letter.

Take alef for example. Once we learned what it looked like in block, we then had to be able to write it in script. In block, it looks like a bisected X. In script it is written similar to a "lc." And in its base form, it makes an "ah" sound. But when modified by vowels (which are usually a series of lines or dots below, above, or beside the letter), it can make the "ah," "eh," "oh," "oo," "ee," and "uh" sounds.

By the time we reached vav (V analog), the sixth letter in the alphabet, I was perfectly fine with someone taking a pipe cleaner to my left eye socket. And it made things no better when Leah called me to the board to write vav in script form, which isn't too hard considering it's a straight vertical line. I mean it's a freaking lower case "l." How hard can that be?

So, I sauntered up to the board content that I had been let off the hook and drew a straight vertical line, beaming from ear to ear. Leah just stared at me. Did I have something in my teeth?

"No good."

What the...?

"That is too long, Andre." (Sidebar: Apparently I'm either a seven-foot tall behemoth wrestler or a retired wide receiver for the Falcons).

I walked back to my desk completely perplexed. Liz couldn't help but laugh and informed me that a long vertical line is the nun sofit or the ending form of the letter nun (N analog).

"Congratulations. You couldn't even do a line," Liz quipped.

Dustin was laughing pretty hard. The teacher assured me that all would be okay. Curse you, vav.

By the time we finished up at 1:00, I had to go home and grab some lunch. Both my roommates, Ryan and Dominique, were already at home and going over some of what they had learned. They had been separated from Dustin and I and put into classes AA and B respectively. There are three A classes since there are so many of us who haven't the slightest clue how to speak the tongue of Abraham. Dominique was put into the B level class. We're unsure how it happened seeing as how he knew as much Hebrew as the rest of us, but we've chalked it up to him being a French-Canadian and probably wooing his way into a higher class.

Chris showed up shortly thereafter. You might remember Chris from earlier as being from San Diego and wanting to work with the Save A Child's Heart program. Well Chris was assigned to the Brodetsky dorms and seeing as how he fits in well with all of us and how Ryan doesn't have a roommate, we invited him to live with us for the next seven weeks. And the kid is a machine with the one-liners.

We went over what we learned in class and it was all very different. Chris, who is in class AAA, learned entirely different letters of the alphabet and even a few verbs. Ryan, in class AA, learned hardly any of the alphabet and was taught almost exclusive vocabulary. It became apparent to us that this peculiarity was in fact genius. It allowed us to have crossover and learn things from one another that we didn't have time to learn in class. And it would speed up our progress so that we could join the higher classes.

Dustin dropped by and we decided to head to the Goldstein gym (I told you I'd go from Gold's to Goldstein's, Jeff). It's near campus and is basically a massive country club. There are three olympic size swimming pools, multiple saunas, two jacuzzis, racquetball courts, basketball courts, tennis courts, cardio rooms, a massive weight room, and...krav maga classes. Dustin and I were sold pretty quickly and signed up for a year membership as well as the krav maga classes.

Krav maga is an Israeli martial art taught to the Israeli Defense Force. How in the heck could we pass up that opportunity?

When we returned, Chris asked if I wanted to run. Daylight was drawing to a close and it wasn't especially warm, so we decided to do a test run run to the Mediterranean. During our jog, as we passed high-rise apartments in the Ramat Aviv district and made our way to the Old Porte, thoughts of coming events continually crossed my mind.

The night before, Chris, Ryan, Dominique, and I had sat in my room and talked about Iran. We were all in consensus that Israel will have no choice but to strike the Islamic Republic's nuclear facilities before the year is out.

"I think it's going to happen," Ryan said deadpan.

"Me too," I added.

"And what will you all do when Hezbollah and Hamas retaliate?" Dominique asked as he leaned against the balcony door.

"Grab a gun and follow the IDF," I quipped.

Ryan just nodded.

When we hit the dock of the Old Porte, I was brought out of my reverie as the cool winds of the Mediterranean Sea washed across us. Everyone here had volunteered to come to the Promised Land despite ongoing events.

We know what could happen. I just pray we're ready for it if it does.