Dear friends,

This week we celebrated Israel’s 76th birthday.

What was once a vision and a distant dream has since become our tangible homeland. In the Zionist spirit, we’re going to unpack one of the words in the first stanza of “Hatikvah,” Israel’s national anthem.

As you’ll recall, the fourth line of “Hatikvah” reads:

“The eye looks to Zion”

That final word, tzofiyah (צופיה)

means “to look” or “to scout.” It’s derived from the shoresh (root) tzadi-peh-yud (.צ.פ.י)

Other words derived from this root include the youth movement Tzofim (צופים)

or “Scouts, Tatzpitanit (תצפיתנית)

the battalion of female soldiers in the IDF who monitor Israel’s borders 24-7, commonly nicknamed, “Eyes of the country,” and the Jerusalem hilltop where many of you studied (and partied) during your semesters abroad at Hebrew-U, Har Tzofim (הר צופים)

AKA, Mount Scopus.

But what’s really special about the tzadi-peh-yud root is that it appears in tzipiyah (ציפייה)

Hebrew for “expectation,” which brings us back to Israel’s national anthem.

Hebrew knows something we often overlook: The first step in making dreams come true is to expect them to come true!

When we visualize our goals, we inherently anticipate them into being. Keeping our eyes on the prize is the equivalent of a self-fulfilling prophecy – when it comes to Israel, this holds true as ever. For centuries, the Jewish people maintained an unwavering belief that we would one day return to our homeland; our practice was centered not around if it would happen, but when.

As Theodor Herzl famously said, “If you will it, it is not a dream” – and finally, on that beautiful day in 1948, our expectation became reality.

What’s truly beautiful about the idea of expectation is that it’s a two-way street. While the events of October 7th will be forever seared in our memories, we cannot forget what transpired on October 8th and the days after, when 200,000 Israelis were called for military reserve duty and 350,000 showed up. Meanwhile, Israeli society was overcome with a wave of volunteerism, the likes of which few countries have ever seen.

Why? Because in those harrowing times, Israelis knew what was expected of them, as a nation and as individuals.

As we approach Israel’s 77th year, I invite you to think about your own expectations for Israel and act as though they’ve already been fulfilled.

You might also think about what Israel, in this perilous time, expects of you.

Although this may seem counterintuitive, this mindset is precisely what will turn our expectations into reality.

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Joel Chasnoff is a stand-up comedian, podcast host, and co-author of Israel 201, winner of the 2023 National Jewish Book Award. You can find out more about his comedy, books, and upcoming tour at www.joelchasnoff.com, and sign up for his weekly newsletter, Hebrew Is Magic, to learn more about the hidden life lessons in Hebrew words.  

Last week, we concluded our Passover Seders as we always do, with the familiar phrase “Next year in Jerusalem.”

This expression has always struck me as peculiar, considering that Jerusalem is already under our control (and has been for nearly 76 years).

However, this year the contradiction feels even more poignant. With hostages still in Gaza, Israel at war with Hamas, and the IDF gearing up for a potential confrontation with Hezbollah in Lebanon, is it really Jerusalem that we’re longing for in the year to come?

Yet, when we delve into the Hebrew meaning of this remarkable city’s name – Yerushalayim – we find that this aspiration isn’t so peculiar after all.

 

Yerushalayim

is actually a combination of two words: yeru

an ancient Hebrew term for “city,” and shalayim

derived from the root shen-lamed-mem

which forms the basis for two familiar words: shalom

(“peace”) and shalem

which means “whole.”

This brings us back to “Next year in Jerusalem.” What we’re truly praying for at the end of our Seders (and our most recent ones especially) is a year of wholeness – one in which all living hostages are returned to their families, and those who are deceased are given proper burials here in Israel.

And, we long for a year of peace, whatever current war zone we happen to find ourselves in, be it the Gaza border, Israel’s northernmost city of Kiryat Shmoneh, or a college campus on New York’s Upper West Side.

 

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Joel Chasnoff is a stand-up comedian, podcast host, and co-author of Israel 201, winner of the 2023 National Jewish Book Award. You can find out more about his comedy, books, and upcoming tour at www.joelchasnoff.com, and sign up for his weekly newsletter, Hebrew Is Magic, to learn more about the hidden life lessons in Hebrew words.  

Dear friends,

Pesach is upon us, and as you may know, it’s the holiday of fours: four names, four cups of wine, four children, four questions.

In that same spirit, we’re going to examine four words from the Haggadah and discover how they make our lives more meaningful.

 

Jewish holidays and biblical language are notorious for using words that didn’t make it into modern Hebrew, but the other day I overheard a familiar word that did.

Bedi’avad (בדיעבד) is the everyday Hebrew word for “hindsight”.

Take a close look at the word, particularly the last part. Do you see another word you recognize, straight out of the Haggadah?

Indeed, those final three letters, ayin-bet-dalet, form the word  עבד (eved), which means slave.

It’s also the shoresh (root) of numerous words related to the idea of work, everything from a 9-5 job to worshiping God.

What does this have to do with “hindsight”?

Although it can be painful to admit, Hebrew knows that as Jews, we are slaves to our past simply by existing and surviving one enemy after another. Coping with an irreversible, and often tragic history has a way of enslaving us to it.

But even so, reflecting in retrospect enables us to prevent undesirable parts of history from repeating themselves. In this way, looking in hindsight and confronting our history is also the very thing that helps us free ourselves from it.

 

Of course many of our  traditions are worth repeating. The fourth question at the Seder asks why we recline at the table instead of sitting regularly.

At least, that’s how the question is typically translated.

But as it turns out, mesubin (מסובין) is Hebrew for “sitting around the table”

based on the shoresh samech-bet-bet (סבב).

At first glance, this three-letter root might not look so familiar, but it appears in all things that turn or turn around, including a toy from another favorite holiday, the sevivon (dreidel).

In other words, what the child is actually asking in question number four is, “On all other nights we sit at the table wherever and however we want, but on this night we sit around the table, facing one another.”

This word makes another appearance on Passover when we sing the song “Betzet Yisrael.”

Ha-Yarden tisov l’achor

The song describes how the Jordan River turned backward as it paved a path for us to cross into Israel!

The takeaway?

Sometimes making positive changes in life demands that we turn our back on something else in order to pave the path forward.

 

As we move forward with the Seder, we reach the “sandwich stage” korech (כורך). Similarly, the shoresh kaf-resh-chaf (כרכ)

gets packed into multiple Hebrew words.

This same root appears in kricha (כריכה)

which means “book cover” and can also refer to the act of binding pages or ideas together.

And then there’s karuch (כרוך)

which means “to be contingent upon something else.” So, this year when you reach korech, I invite you to ask yourselves What is real freedom contingent on?

 

And for the cherry on top, we have the tastiest dessert of all: Matzah! Except that at this stage of the Seder, we call it tzafun (צפון)

where we hide a piece and make our children look for it, aka, the Greek afikomen.

It’s worth asking, Why don’t we just call this “dessert” like the Greeks do?

To answer that, we’ll decode the root – in this case tzadi-peh-nun (צפנ)

In the nature of the root, there is so much meaning to unpack – if you look for it. One pairing of the word is kod tzofen (קוד צופן), which literally means encrypted code.

On a more amorphic level, the word matzpun (מצפון)

is a variation of a code that’s hard to ignore – our conscience. It’s no wonder that the Hebrew word for compass is matzpen (מצפן).

How sweet of a metaphor! Hebrew is telling us that some codes are hard to decipher, but we can find the answers within (or under the sofa).

Whether a moral compass or a literal one, they can both point us north or tzafon (צפון)

and provide us guidance like the North Star.

 

Who Knows 133?

With 133 hostages still in Gaza, celebrating a holiday that’s symbolic of freedom is paradoxical at best. So to help you bear this burden and remain mindful of why this year is different from all other years, Benji and I created a Passover supplement that integrates what the Jewish people have been enduring for the past six months with traditions that originated thousands of years ago. It includes new takes on the Four Questions, suggestions for ways to keep the hostages in mind at your Seder table, and some relevant Hebrew is Magic. We invite you to incorporate it at the relevant stages of the Seder.

Download Passover Supplement

 

Sending wishes for a Seder filled with hidden meanings and a chag sameach,

Joel

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Joel Chasnoff is a stand-up comedian, podcast host, and co-author of Israel 201, winner of the 2023 National Jewish Book Award. You can find out more about his comedy, books, and upcoming tour at www.joelchasnoff.com, and sign up for his weekly newsletter, Hebrew Is Magic, to learn more about the hidden life lessons in Hebrew words.  

Dear friends,

As many of you know, I moved to Israel to enlist in the IDF when I was a whopping 24 years old. That means I was older than my comrades, my commanders, and my officers!

Plenty of people, including my parents and then-girlfriend Dorit, tried to talk me out of it.

I had my own doubts, too:

Was my Hebrew strong enough?

Were my glutes strong enough?

And, of course, there was the biggest question of all: Was I willing to die?

Some context: This was the late ‘90s, when just about all combat soldiers would eventually do a tour in Lebanon as part of Israel’s war of attrition with Hezbollah. Did I know for sure that I wanted to be part of that?

No, I did not. But what I did know was that if I didn’t join up, I’d regret it forever (however long “forever” might be).

You see, I realized that serving in the IDF wasn’t just another item on my bucket list. It was a sense of fulfillment I needed to claim in order to feel like life had a bigger purpose.

It was, in other words, something I aspired to.

 

The Hebrew word for “to aspire” is lish’of (לשאוף)

And while I may not have realized this then, I now know that Hebrew sees us during the challenges we face –  and helps us see our way through them. Here’s how:

It turns out that lish’of is a homonym that also means “to inhale.”

Hebrew is handing us a package deal: Aspiring to the best version of who we are necessarily means overcoming difficulty and self-doubt.

In this sense, lish’of is more than just a word, it’s an instruction manual. Hebrew knows that short, shallow breaths are the diagnostic for stressful situations. Lish’of literally spells out how to cope with the anxiety we feel when embarking on a new challenge: deep inhales. This small act equips our brains with enough oxygen to tackle what’s ahead.

Science backs this up. But, once again, Hebrew knew it first.

And I have a feeling that with lish’of, Hebrew is telling us something else, too: In the same way that breathing is involuntary, so too is our need to aspire and reach for more. The day we stop growing is the day we stop living.

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Joel Chasnoff is a stand-up comedian, podcast host, and co-author of Israel 201, winner of the 2023 National Jewish Book Award. You can find out more about his comedy, books, and upcoming tour at www.joelchasnoff.com, and sign up for his weekly newsletter, Hebrew Is Magic, to learn more about the hidden life lessons in Hebrew words.