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A Language Abandoned Is a Covenant Forgotten

by Ram ben Ze'ev



A Language Abandoned Is a Covenant Forgotten
A Language Abandoned Is a Covenant Forgotten

It is a strange and unsettling reality that institutions once rooted in Torah now find themselves speaking a language that is no longer their own. Words that carried the weight of revelation, memory, and identity are quietly replaced—not by necessity, but by convenience. And with each substitution, something far deeper than vocabulary is lost.


When an organisation replaces תהלים (Tehillim – Psalms) with a foreign term, or שמות (Shemot – Names/Exodus) with an imposed label, it is not merely translating—it is surrendering. When it substitutes דברים (Devarim – Words/Deuteronomy), or even the solemn weight of השואה (Shoah – Catastrophe), it signals a departure not only from language, but from alignment. These are not interchangeable expressions; they are vessels of meaning shaped by Torah itself.


The excuse offered is as thin as it is revealing: that the audience cannot understand. That people will not relate. That clarity demands compromise. Yet this argument collapses under its own contradiction. The same audience, we are told, cannot grasp Tehillim or Shemot—but readily understands “mazal tov.” Why? Because they have been taught it. Because it has been normalised. Because someone decided that this word would remain, while others would quietly disappear.


This exposes the truth: the issue is not comprehension, but will. Not the inability of the listener, but the failure of the teacher.


A teacher rooted in Torah does not dilute—it elevates. He does not replace the language of קדש (kedosh – holiness), but brings the student into it. He understands that Hebrew is not simply a tool of communication; it is the structure through which the world itself was spoken into existence. The words of Torah are not labels—they are definitions of reality. To exchange them for foreign substitutes is not translation; it is distortion.


This is how assimilation truly manifests—not first in action, but in language. When the words change, the concepts follow. When the concepts shift, the alignment weakens. And when alignment weakens, identity dissolves.


What we are witnessing is not accidental. It is the slow and deliberate erosion of distinction—the very distinction that defines עם ישראל as a עם קדוש, a separate and holy nation. The Torah does not merely command observance; it commands identity. And identity is preserved through language as much as through deed.


To abandon the language of Torah is to step away from the covenant itself.


The corrective is neither complicated nor optional. We must return to speaking as Jews, teaching as Jews, and thinking as Jews. We must use the words given to us—not selectively, not apologetically, but completely. Let those who do not yet understand learn. Let those unfamiliar become familiar. That is the role of leadership. That is the responsibility of every institution that claims a connection to Torah.


Anything less is not outreach—it is surrender.


And a people who surrender their language will, in time, surrender far more than words.



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