Rena Baldinger: IN ISRAELI CULTURE SILENCE IS GOLDEN

​The Full Five Finger Gesture is what I call the hand signal that is common to all Israelis. The tip of the thumb is pressed to the gathered tips of all other fingers. No words needed, just a little oomph of the hand. Language here is not just about words; it’s about body language, signals, and oftentimes silence that can be integral to the fibers of a culture.

​Although I considered myself pretty much fluent in Hebrew as a result of an intense studying, I was still nervous about moving here thanks to the language barrier and cultural differences. To say the least, things are very different in Israel than it is in New York, let alone America. However, I embraced the challenge of learning the nuances that define Israeli language and culture. How frustrating it was when I realized that Israelis don’t just have a different language with a different alphabet and opposite writing directions; they also have so many specific distinctions that is similar to learning a whole new language all on its own. I knew I was in for a real learning experience.

The Full Five Finger Gesture is just one of many examples of the often “lost-for-words” language. Raising one’s arms all the way to the heavens as if praying on the High Holy days and yelling incomprehensible gibberish at an unbelievable rate is another. A pretty popular one is honking on the horn, slamming on the brakes, and sticking one’s hands out the window with obscene gestures—simultaneously. Thus I learned a fundamental lesson; every culture has its own idiosyncrasies, its own wordless language that practically defines it; you actually don’t have to say a word.

The culture that Israel has created for itself is generally seen as rude, possibly violent, out of line and impatient. Oblivious foreign victims such as myself simply have to maneuver their way through and try to survive the onslaught of a whole new language within a language.

​Yet another “language” that’s not really language (i.e. words being spoken) is silence. I learned this specific way of communicating on a Friday night out walking with a friend. Although it was a half hour walk and women usually have an intense need to talk two words per footstep, we said nothing to each other—we simply enjoyed the fresh air and each other’s company. As we reached the point where we had to part ways, my friend turned to me and said, “I love knowing that I have a friend who I don’t always need to be talking to. I’ve never felt more comfortable.” After that, I set about thinking hard about what that meant. Sometimes not saying anything can speak volumes; sometimes a long and strained silence can be a code for: “I want to yell as loud as possible!!”

The Jewish people as a united culture know that the gift of speech is not something to be taken lightly, and that many times the wise and correct thing to do is to remain silent. Sometimes silence defines us as a people, and other times, it’s a lack thereof that defines us—when we cry out at the injustice of a certain law or action or country…when we take a stand for ourselves and show that we can speak the diplomatic language, the presidential language, or the lay-people language. But what ultimately characterizes us as a people and as a culture is our ability to make use of the words of Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi: “The best medicine of all is silence,” and the words of Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel (Avos 1:17): “All my days I have been raised among the Sages and I have found nothing better for oneself than silence.”

So whether it’s the language with no words that the inhabitants of Israel are famous for, or whether it’s the art of silence that the Jewish people as a whole embody, both are crucial to the expression of culture that is created through these unique “languages.”