When I was six years old, I had a pounding headache. My mom turned to me, asking “Sweetie, does your keppie hurt?” I responded with “Mommy, what does that mean?” About a month later, I went to visit my bubbe. A tough and abrasive woman, full of chutzpah with a hint of sweetness, she lived in an assisted living facility in New Jersey. The thermostat in her room was kept around one hundred degrees, perfect for schvitzing. My mom had a lively conversation with my fluent Yiddish-speaking bubbe filled with unfamiliar words and phrases. I was desperate to understand what they were saying, so I asked my mom to teach me everything she knew. I wanted to know every word and phrase. 

Yiddish is a crucial piece of my family story. My great-grandparents fled pogroms in Russia, Ukraine, Poland, and Austria. Every ethnic group has a language that binds them together in the present while linking them to their ancestors in the past. At that moment, I discovered my language: Yiddish. The word Yiddish is derived from the German word for “Jewish.” According to the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research, “Yiddish began to take shape by the 10th century as Jews from France and Italy migrated to the German Rhine Valley.” 

Unfortunately, during their escape, they left most of their Yiddish behind. According to Jewish Unpacked, “in the 1940s, it is estimated that around 11 million people spoke Yiddish [but] today, it is estimated that there are under 1 million total Yiddish speakers in the world.” This drastic decline in Yiddish speakers came as a result of many speakers dying during the Holocaust and rising antisemitism around the world. To escape from antisemitism, many Ashkenazi Jewish immigrants, like my family, felt forced to assimilate into American culture, leaving their language behind. Oy vey! Luckily, some Yiddish words and phrases have survived, seamlessly incorporated into the English language. In April 2021, Duolingo released a Yiddish course for English speakers as the 40th language offered on the app. You probably don’t know that you speak a little Yiddish every day, but do you know what these words actually mean?

I will begin with the quintessential bagel. I’m sure many of you have eaten a bagel before, but did you know this is a delicious breakfast staple within Jewish culture? My mom is the ultimate balaboosta. She makes the best challah, chocolate babka, noodle kugel, and brisket. I love to nosh with my grandparents, but of course, I always get schmutz on my shirt (I am a messy eater).

I’ve been obsessed with geography and maps for as long as I can remember. I loved to watch the colors on the weather map as a baby and I used to play Stack the States and Stack the Countries on repeat several times a day in elementary school. These were literally the only apps I used on my iPad. My family (or mishpocha since I love them a lot) believed I was meshuggeneh for having this weird interest. They deemed this information useless because, to be honest, they knew bupkis about geography or maps. So, why would it be useful to them? 

Getting my driver’s license last year was a blissful moment. I kvelled to my friends for weeks, ecstatic with my newfound independence. My parents were shepping and all schmaltzy, as they squeezed me in a group hug when I got home, sad that I was growing up really fast but yet amazed that I reached an important life milestone.

At age thirteen, I celebrated my bat mitzvah, a moment I had been preparing for and looking forward to for a long time. Three years of Jewish preschool, eight long years of Hebrew school, and bat mitzvah tutoring at my synagogue were finally put to good use. To be honest, I hated Hebrew school. While becoming a Jewish adult was a transformative experience, I had no idea what this actually meant. My thirteen-year-old self thought it was just the service and extravagant party.

However, after an intense conversation with my Rabbi and parents, I realized that becoming a bat mitzvah was so much more than these superficial moments that I witnessed my older cousins’ experience. Becoming a bat mitzvah meant being held accountable for my actions and taking responsibility for them. As well as owning up to my mistakes and apologizing for them. For the first time, I had to create my own path and explore my values. I had to figure out the type of person I wanted to become. One such person I aspire to be is a mensch. To be a mensch means to be an honorable person with integrity, dignity, and morality as well as having a strong sense of what is right and wrong. A famous quote attributed to Rabbi Hillel in the Pirkei Avot (Jewish book of ethics), which I wrote about in my bat mitzvah speech, perfectly describes what it means to be a mensch. Here is the first part: “Az ich vel zayn vi er, ver vet zayn vi ich?” This translates to “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”. The full quote is: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And, if I am for myself alone, then what am I? And, if not now, when?” I realized that becoming a mensch was actually very simple. The answer lay in performing mitzvot, acts of kindness to help other people. 

During the pandemic, I became a mensch, performing mitzvot by reinventing my passion for community service. The world was hurting and desperate for help and I wanted to do something meaningful to repair it. My family friend co-founded Balance Boxes, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing themed boxes with free tutoring, games, toys, books, meals, and snacks to students in low-income communities. She reached out to me and over that summer I started the Maryland chapter of Balance Boxes. Fast forward to today and I am now the CEO of Balance Boxes. Over two and a half years later, we have donated over 1,000 boxes to Title I schools in Montgomery County. The thank you notes received and the smiles on the students’ faces are priceless.

Find something that inspires you and pursue it, such as learning a new language or working to research the cure for a rare cancer. It is our generation’s responsibility to practice Tikkun Olam, repairing the world, making it a better place, and creating a brighter future. Changing lives is the greatest accomplishment one can achieve. It is a simple, yet meaningful act that requires little effort. Small acts of kindness such as saying hello to someone in the hallway or donating old clothes to a homeless shelter go a long way. Every single one of you has the power to change a life and make a difference. Anyone can be a mensch. Mazel Tov! You just learned some Yiddish.