One of the essay prompts I recently worked on for an application went along these lines: There are some words in other languages that don’t translate well to English or have meanings that are hard to express outside of the language itself. Choose a word and explain why it can’t or shouldn’t be translated from the original. I chose the Hebrew word Shalom, peace—and yes, I know it seems like that word is easily translatable, but hear me out for a moment. I wrote about how the word comes from the root Shalem, whole, which implies that peace is a form of wholeness—a nuance not seen when the word is simply translated to English.

I was tempted to write a whole essay about a couple of words in Klingon… but then realized that I’d have to find the time to watch Star Trek first.

The essay got me thinking about language and its role—or lack thereof—in the Jewish community. Let’s put English on the side for a moment; it’s almost a given that we all learn English from birth, and likely take English classes at school. I’m thinking about other languages—Hebrew, Spanish, French and so on.

Obviously, Hebrew is integral to our culture. Most of us learn to daven in Hebrew from a young age, and start learning Chumash early on as well. The language of the Jewish people is Hebrew, revitalized over a hundred years ago by Eliezer Ben Yehuda (without him, we might be speaking Yiddish in our community).

However, when it comes to studying Hebrew academically: what about the idea of Ivrit b’Ivrit, the study of Judaic Studies in Hebrew? This was a tenet of my elementary school experience at Yeshivat Noam; nearly all of my Judaic classes—Torah, Navi and of course Language—were taught almost exclusively in Hebrew. On the one hand, this is an amazing idea. Immersing ourselves in Hebrew and learning using the original language of the texts was a wonderful way to not only improve our language skills but also to improve our skills in the subject itself. On the other hand, Ivrit b’Ivrit has its limits. Because it means the students have to converse in what to them is a non-native language; when someone doesn’t know a word or two, or how to describe a concept in Hebrew, the discussions can get confusing to follow. It also sometimes becomes hard to raise the level of discussion, to grapple with more advanced topics, because of the fact that it’s easier for us to learn more advanced topics in the language we are best at. For instance, unless I’m forgetting something, I have never had a Talmud class fully in Hebrew yet. That may change if I go to an Israeli yeshiva next year, which is a possibility, but as I write this, all of my Talmud classes have essentially been taught in English. (I don’t mean we read an English translation of the Gemara—we use the original text, but when we explain concepts and discuss the text, we do so in English.) Talmud, after all, is a tricky subject, and trying to understand the debates and nuances of the rabbis’ opinions is difficult enough in English. Learning it all in Hebrew would mean that we’d need to go at a glacial pace; we’d accomplish very little. So to me it seems that Ivrit b’Ivrit is a worthy endeavor but does have its limits.

I do wish more high schools were willing to try more Ivrit b’Ivrit, though. My own school, Ramaz, doesn’t really utilize it much anymore except for Hebrew language classes (with the exception of some honors Tanach classes). But I understand the reasoning. It has to do with the idea I stated above about advanced topics, and of course everyone comes into Ramaz with different levels of Hebrew language knowledge anyway. To demand that yeshiva high schools all start doing Ivrit b’Ivrit without trying to accommodate those who aren’t strong at speaking and reading the language would be wrong.

What about other languages? In my very limited experience, it seems that it depends on what school you look at. Some yeshiva high schools treat Hebrew as their foreign language, and don’t offer Spanish, French or the like. Others, like mine, require Hebrew at least for the first three years but then also have a supplementary foreign language requirement; you choose between Spanish, French or another language. Personally, I’ve enjoyed learning Spanish; it offers a nice contrast to Hebrew, as it is written with the same characters I’m used to using in English, but it uses a very different accent and style of talking. (It is also nice to finally be able to understand many of the advertisements in Washington Heights!)

But should all schools feel compelled to offer a language beyond Hebrew? Sure, foreign language classes are practical in the academic sense, when it comes to taking more classes, getting AP test credit and the like—but how practical is it? I’ve benefited sometimes from being able to understand Spanish being spoken or that is written around me, but so far I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve needed it. On the other hand, even if it isn’t the most practical thing in the world right now for high schoolers to learn beyond Hebrew, I believe they still benefit from it. It opens up their minds to new cultures beyond America and Israel, and gives them a new body of knowledge that could be useful in the future. But I do also understand that high schools might find it hard to fit it into their curriculum—particularly a dual curriculum—and that for some students, juggling two languages, English and Hebrew, is already enough.

I’m not trying to debate the pros and cons between Ivrit b’Ivrit or not, or studying a language beyond Hebrew or not. I think it is beneficial to study Ivrit b’Ivrit and to learn another foreign language, but I understand why different schools and students may choose not to do either. Overall, language is something we should cherish—whether our native tongue of English, our cultural tongue of Hebrew or one we learn afterwards. Language allows us to express ourselves in many ways, to describe and experience our world—and of course, to share our feelings with others, as I have just done now in this very article…

Oren Oppenheim, 18, is a senior at Ramaz Upper School in Manhattan and lives in Fair Lawn, NJ. He spends his free time writing and reading, and hopes to become a published novelist and a journalist. You can email him at [email protected] and see his photography at facebook.com/orenphotography.

By Oren Oppenheim