Hebrew

From right to left, what most people call backwards, and I call familiarity.  The language that when I speak  it, I get looks like I’m an alien.  When I write it, I get stares of shock and awe as I write in those ancient glyphs.  When I practice it, I get stares and questions of “Whoa! Could you teach me that?” or “Wow! Are you Jewish or something?”  I always want to reply with some sarcastic, snappish comment, but I’m too nice. It IS really annoying to get stared at while you’re practicing for one of the biggest events in your life, but they’ve never seen Hebrew being written, either. The sh’ma, the Amidah, Maraavim Aravim, the Torah, with no vowels and fancy, frilly script. Siman Tov and Mazel Tov, the morning blessings, the V’ahavta, Lo Yisa Goi, Henei MaTov, all these things I grew up with, are alien to most everyone reading this. Most of you never met anyone who was Jewish. Most of you have never heard of all those prayers and blessings, and they look and sound like gibberish to you. What looks like blocky, random movement, or a sharp turn and curl to you, are letters and words and phrases and sentences. Are you bilingual? Do you get funny looks? I don’t know, but I do know that the comforting glyphs, older then Latin, are part of me.