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But Really, Why Is It Called a Yarmulke?

In a recent column published by Tablet Magazine, Rabbi Avi Shafran purported to explain the "true story" of "how the yarmulke got its name."


I'll excerpt the entirety of his discussion of the "yarmulke" term here.


If you have ever heard and accepted the contention that the word [yarmulke] is a contraction of the Hebrew word for “fear/respect”–yir’ah, and the Aramaic word for “king”–malka–and that the word signifies the wearer’s fear of Heaven, well then, you have been had.
Yarmulke’s etymological pedigree is undeniably Polish, in which language the word jarmułka (with the stress, though, on the second syllable) still exists, and which originally referred to a skullcap worn by priests. (In Turkish, yağmurluk means a raincoat, which role a sufficiently expansive kippa, one supposes, might fulfill in a pinch.)
That's it. For those counting, that's 77 words. (96 if you count the side-comment referring to the Turkish word for raincoat.)  480 characters of substance.  Another 124 of random digression . The whole explanation could have been presented in two tweets.

Rabbi Shafran, no stranger to deep and logical inquiry, had noted that the term "yarmulke" would be the focus of his writing.  But what followed was anything but. Instead, it was a rambling piece, filled with digressions that managed to offend both non-Jews and readers expecting to learn something from a well-structured piece of writing. 

The lede promised a discussion of kippah marches in Germany and demonstrations of Jewish pride and solidarity.  The headline promised a thorough discussion of the evolution of the yiddish term for the kippah/skullcap. The column delivered little in the way of fulfillment of either.  Instead, it was a Trumpian "word salad," filled with unrelated references to yiddish and other languages, perhaps designed to demonstrate the author's facility with world languages and cultures. 

Setting aside the offense that the disconnected piece posed to any sensible speaker of the English language, Rabbi Shafran also seemed unwilling to conclude his short column without finding a way to cause broader offense to the Jewish and Gentile communities.  Invoking the term "goyishe kup" [Gentile head] (with no real relation to the stated purpose of the column), he posed a joke that was, at best, just barely funny.  


But why even bother suggesting the notion that Jews are smarter than non-Jews? Even if Rabbi Shafran doesn't believe accordingly (and I can't be sure of that), why provide more fodder for those who do?  And why allow people to even suggest that the erstwhile and sometimes spokesperson for a major Jewish movement equates a lack of Jewish faith with foolishness or a lack of intelligence, even as a joke? 

Indeed, Rabbi Shafran seems to acknowledge the unnecessary nature of the anecdote, noting that "we have an excuse to illustrate the usage of the latter phrase [i.e., 'Goyishe kup,' or 'Gentile head'] (and our subject, too) through the story of a 19th-century German apostate."  Was he really looking for an excuse to relay this "joke"? 


What, in fact, was "our subject" after all? Perhaps more importantly, why did Tablet see fit to publish Rabbi Shafran's less-than-helpful post on said subject, when it was neither informative nor particularly funny?

To paraphrase the words of Robert Marley [sic] in A Muppet Christmas Carol, "Leave comedy to the bears...."

*The post is also referenced on Rabbi Shafran's personal blog, on which he encourages readers to "register [their] appreciation and support this site [i.e., its author] with a gratuity."

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