Translating Religion. Linguistic Analysis of Judeo-Arabic Sacred Texts from Egypt (Etudes Sur Le Judaisme Medieval)

Translating Religion

Études sur le Judaïsme Médiéval Fondées par

Georges Vajda Dirigées par

Paul B. Fenton

TOME XXXVIII

Translating Religion Linguistic Analysis of Judeo-Arabic Sacred Texts from Egypt

by

Benjamin H. Hary

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2009

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hary, Benjamin H. Translating religion : linguistic analysis of Judeo-Arabic sacred texts from Egypt / by Benjamin H. Hary. p. cm. — (Etudes sur le judaïsme médiéval ; v. 38) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-17382-8 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Judeo-Arabic language— Dialects—Egypt. 2. Judeo-Arabic literature—Egypt—History and criticism. 3. Jews— Egypt—Languages. I. Title. II. Series. PJ5079.5.E49H37 2009 492.7’70962—dc22

2009003328

ISSN 1568-5004 ISBN 978 90 04 17382 8 © Copyright 2009 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

È·‡ ¯ÎÊÏ ®≤∞∞≥—±π≤¥© ȯ‰ ¯È‡Ó ®±π∏∑—±π∞≥© ȯ‰ ÏÁ¯ È˙·Ò ‰¢·ˆ˙ ÌÈÈÁÏ Ï„·ÈÈ ÈÁ‡ „·ÎÏ ȯ‰ Èχ

In memory of my father Meir Hary (1924–2003) In recognition of my grandmother Rachel Hary (1903–1987) and in honor of my brother Eli Harry (1950– )

CONTENTS List of Figures and Tables....................................................................xi Preface................................................................................................xiii Technical Notes..................................................................................xix Introduction......................................................................................xxiii PART I JUDEO-ARABIC: THE LANGUAGE OF ARABIC-SPEAKING JEWS Chapter One – The Jewish Linguistic Spectrum.....................................5 The Sociolinguistics of Jewish Varieties.....................................5 Issues of Terminology ..............................................................8 The Emergence and Development of Jewish Varieties..............13 Crossing Religious Boundaries................................................16 The Characteristics of Jewish Varieties ...................................19 A List of Jewish Varieties........................................................25 Chapter Two – Judeo-Arabic within the Jewish Linguistic Spectrum.......................................................................................29 An Overview of Judeo-Arabic................................................29 The History of Judeo-Arabic...................................................32 The Structure of Judeo-Arabic.................................................37 The Judeo-Arabic Continuum .................................................39 The Diachronic Development of Judeo-Arabic Continuglossia ..................................................................41 The Current State of Judeo-Arabic.........................................44

CONTENTS

Chapter Three – The Translation of Sacred Texts into Judeo-Arabic (the ¡ar˙) ................................................................51 Translation and Issues of Sacredness.......................................52 The Translator’s Dilemma.......................................................57 The Development of the ¡ar˙ ..................................................60 The Cairo Collection................................................................63 Previous Studies on the ¡ar˙....................................................65 The Framework for the Linguistic Analysis of the ¡ar˙............68 Head-to-Toe Scanning.............................................................74 The Translation Continuum....................................................83 The Work of the ¡ar˙an...........................................................85 Chapter Four – Spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic: The Evidence from the ¡ar˙ Texts.......................................................................91 Spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic — An Introduction................91 Methodology..........................................................................93 1. Phonetics and Phonology...................................................100 2. Morphology .....................................................................112 3. Syntax ...............................................................................125 4. Lexicon ..............................................................................131 5. Summary of Colloquial Features of Spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic...................................................................134 Chapter Five – Additional Linguistic Issues of the ¡ar˙ Tradition......137 Issue One: Pseudocorrections ...............................................137 Issue Two: The Theoretical Background of the Use of Hebrew and Aramaic Components in Judeo-Arabic.........144 Cases of Interference in Direction A...........................148 Cases of Interference in Direction B...........................153 Issue Three: The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon in the ¡ur¥˙...156 Summary...............................................................................159

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CONTENTS

PART II A LINGUISTIC MODEL OF THE JUDEO-ARABIC TRANSLATIONS OF SACRED TEXTS Chapter Six – Applying the Model......................................................163 Introductory Notes ...............................................................163 Methodological Notes...........................................................165 Dynamic Literal/Interpretive Linguistic Tension: Complex Cases................................................................166 Calque Translations...............................................................178 The Organization of the Examples.........................................182 Chapter Seven – The Phrase and the Word Levels...............................183 Word-for-Word Translation..................................................183 Word Order: Syntactic Adaptation........................................188 Word Order: Adverbs............................................................192 Word Order: Numerals..........................................................198 Lexicon: Semantic Considerations.........................................200 Lexicon: Sound/Appearance Considerations.........................205 Chapter Eight – The Morphosyntactic Level.....................................213 Negation: Nominal ................................................................213 Negation: Verbal....................................................................215 Prepositions .........................................................................219 Coordinating Particles and Conjunctions...............................231 Conditional Particles.............................................................234 Independent Personal Pronouns............................................237 Pronominal Suffixes..............................................................238 Relative Pronouns.................................................................240 Demonstrative Pronouns ......................................................244 Interrogative Pronouns and Particles.....................................248 Verb Conjugation: Infinitives.................................................250 Verb Conjugation: Finite Verbs..............................................256

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CONTENTS

Cases: Accusative .................................................................257 Cases: Directional .................................................................264 Definiteness..........................................................................266 Agreement: Number ..............................................................274 Agreement: Gender...............................................................280 Tense and Aspect..................................................................287 Mood ....................................................................................293 Voice: Passive .......................................................................295 Numerals with Counted Nouns .............................................299 Chapter Nine – The Segment Level ....................................................303 Assimilation..........................................................................304 Emphatization and Deemphatization....................................305 Elision ..................................................................................306 Orthographic Marking of the Glides ......................................307 Diacritic Marks.....................................................................310 Hebrew-Influenced Orthography..........................................311 Summary...............................................................................327 Bibliography.....................................................................................329 Index .................................................................................................347

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LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3 Figure 4 Figure 5 Figure 6 Figure 7-1 Figure 7-2 Figure 7-3 Figure 7-4 Figure 8-1 Figure 8-2 Figure 9 Figure 10 Figure 11 Figure 12 Figure 13

Periodization of Judeo-Arabic...........................................34 The Judeo-Arabic Continuum............................................38 The Continuglossic Nature of Judeo-Arabic.......................42 The Deviation/Literal Continuum of Definiteness...............68 The Interpretive/Literal T-M-A Continuum........................70 The Interpretive/Literal Continuum...................................70 The Phrase Continuum......................................................71 The Lexical Continuum I....................................................71 The Lexical Continuum II...................................................72 The Morphosyntactic Continuum.......................................72 The Word Level Continuum...............................................75 The Segmental Continuum.................................................75 The Less Literal/More Literal Continuum..........................85 What Happens in the Process of Translation?....................86 The ¡ar˙an’s Work............................................................87 The Development of the ≠im in Urban Egyptian Arabic.......96 Direction A: Hebrew and Aramaic Are the Recipient Languages .................................................145 Figure 14 Direction B: Arabic Is the Recipient Language..................146 Table 1 Table 2 Table 3 Table 4

The Translation of Hebrew Ϙ in Genesis and Exodus........72 The Translation of Hebrew ÈϘ· ÚÓ˘ in Genesis and Exodus..................................................................73 The Example from the Passover Haggadah......................76 The Linguistic Model of the Analysis of the ¡ur¥˙ ..........81–82

PREFACE This book is about Arabic-speaking Jews, what and how they write and speak, and how they composed and used their liturgical or sacred writings in the past. How did I come to write such a book? Scholars at times explore issues that are deeply meaningful to them, and at other times they investigate topics that are as far removed from them as possible. When I wrote about Arabic-speaking Jews previously, I did not consider it to be a topic I was personally involved with. However, when I sat down to write the preface to this book, I realized that this topic is, after all, very personal to me. Despite my best efforts to be objective in my work, I know that biases probably remain of which I am unaware. Thus, I begin by situating myself in relationship to the material about which I am writing by establishing my background and making explicit my motives for writing this book. Growing up in Haifa, Israel, in the 1960s was not an easy task for a boy who was searching for his own identities, caught between the conflicting worlds of Jews and Arabs, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, secular and religious communities, and the like. My mother, Miriam Rebensaft, and her family had fled Nazi Germany in 1936, saving their lives, but not their Berlin middle-class status. The family settled in Bat-Galim, a small community in Haifa on the Mediterranean coast that absorbed many German Jews. The family remained proud of its German roots. My maternal grandmother Alice never bothered to learn Hebrew. She considered herself German and struggled to get along with the locals—Jews and Arabs—whom she referred to as diese barbarischen asiatischen Leute (these barbaric people from Asia). I was continually amazed by her bluntness.

PREFACE My grandmother also objected to my mother’s marriage to my father, Meir Hary. His father Haim Hary, a staunch Zionist, had been raised in Brody, a city in present-day Ukraine, around the turn of the twentieth century. With a degree in architecture from the University of Vienna, Haim Hary had come to then-Palestine to “build” Haifa. But he was not a “total” Ashkenazi, or Jew of Central and Eastern European descent.1 Although Haim came from Brody, it was well known that his family’s origins could be traced back to sixteenth-century Safad, at that time the center of Jewish intellectual life in Ottoman Palestine. Furthermore, Haim’s third wife, Rachel, my paternal grandmother, who had been born in Haifa, had a grandfather from Morocco, which also gave my father Sephardi origins. It was hard enough for my grandmother Alice to live in “the Orient,” as she called it, but to let her daughter marry a non-Ashkenazi was beyond her understanding.2 The marriage took place, however, and my grandmother learned to accept her son-in-law. Our household, though, was very German. When I first went to Berlin in 1977, following my mother’s early death, I was invited to breakfast by her surviving cousin, who served weich gekochtes Ei (soft-boiled egg) with the typical small silver spoon. I responded, “This is just like Israel,” not realizing that there was nothing Israeli about the soft-boiled eggs or the spoon, and that in fact I had been raised with a strong German cultural influence. I grew up in a family that always aimed to provide the children with a better education in order to improve the family’s socioeconomic situation amid the troubled economy of Israel at that time. I was sent to one of the best semiprivate schools in Israel, The Hebrew Reali School in Haifa. The atmosphere in the school, which thrived on

1

2

The term Ashkenazi is itself problematic and worthy of analysis; compare my discussion of the terms Mizrahi, Sephardi, and “Arab Jews” on pp. 30–32, below. I am fortunate to have found my mother’s diary after her death in 1976, in which she described, with much agony, the difficult situation in which she found herself when considering marriage.

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PREFACE snobbish Ashkenazi elite culture, did not look favorably upon frenkim, the derogatory Hebrew term for non-Ashkenazim in the 1960s, or upon Christian and Muslim Arabs. Considering that the non-Ashkenazi origin of our family was ignored and the Moroccan background practically denied, there was no surprise that I completely identified with my German heritage and saw myself as such. Nevertheless, I was attracted to the Arabic language. Trying to understand the “other” intrigued me from a young age. I heard at home and in school that Arabs were “bad” and that “we could not trust them,” yet I sometimes heard my uncles speaking in Arabic with my grandmother Rachel, and from time to time saw Arab friends from Haifa coming and going in our apartment. I studied Arabic seriously in high school and majored in Arabic and Islamic studies. I used Arabic during my military service and then studied it at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and the University of California, Berkeley, where I earned my doctorate. Choosing Judeo-Arabic as my primary area of research closed a circle for me, because I finally got to explore the religiolect which was used by my grandmother Rachel’s relatives in Morocco, as well as by many of my fellow Israelis. Although many scholars of Judeo-Arabic are native speakers of the religiolect or at least had heard it at home, growing up I only heard a little bit of German in addition to Hebrew. By studying Judeo-Arabic, I am in a sense reclaiming my Moroccan roots, and this is one of the reasons that motivated me to write this book. It is in this context and these circumstances that I situate myself and my research on Judeo-Arabic. In acknowledgment of my heritage, I dedicate this book to the memory of my father Meir Hary Ï¢Ê, in recognition of my paternal grandmother Rachel Hary Ï¢Ê, and in honor of my loving brother Eli. The work on this project began in 1994, when I was first introduced to the Cairo Collection. As explained in chapter 3 (pp. 63–65), the collection consists of more than one hundred photocopied manuscripts and is housed at the Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts in the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem. The manuxv

PREFACE scripts contain mainly Jewish liturgical texts written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Judeo-Arabic. Many of them are ¡ur¥˙, which are verbatim translations of sacred religious and liturgical Hebrew/Aramaic texts into Judeo-Arabic, and in this case the Egyptian (mostly Cairene) variety of Judeo-Arabic. I started to publish articles about the nature of these translations and soon it became apparent that the writing of a volume or two was warranted. This book is the first, dealing with theoretical issues concerning these texts. The next volume, Sacred Texts: The Tradition of the ¡ar˙ in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic, with Critical Editions and Translations of the Book of Genesis, the Book of Esther, and the Passover Haggadah, due to appear in 2009, includes critical editions of three sample ¡ur¥˙ along with their translations into English and a linguistic introduction and commentary. I could not have completed such a project without the enormous help that I received from family and friends. I wish to thank my closest friend, Martin J. Wein, who read parts of the book and helped me shape some of my ideas about Christian, Jewish, and Muslim religiolects. Working with him on a separate project on these religiolects enriched me in ways beyond description. Martin has always been a source of love, energy, and intellectual challenge. I have also enjoyed many conversations about Judeo-Arabic with friends and colleagues: David Blumenthal, Piero Capelli, Rkia Cornell, Vincent Cornell, Shoshana Felman, Ruby Lal, Jeff Lesser, Frank Lewis, Deborah Lipstadt, Roxani Margariti, Gordon Newby, Yaron Peleg, Marina Rustow, Jacob Wright, and Ofra Yeglin. I thank Nick Fabian, Illan Gonen, Gene McGarry, and Michael Gugenheimer, who not only edited and proofread different chapters of the book, but also offered valuable comments and ideas. I would also like to thank the following colleagues, friends, and students, who helped me with different sections of the book at various stages: Angelika Bammer, Elitzur Bar-Asher, Moshe Bar-Asher, Sarah Benor, Michael Berger, Joshua Blau, Shmuel Bolozky, Alan Cienki, Abraham David, David Engel, María A. Gallego, Ophira Gamliel, Elena xvi

PREFACE Glaznov-Corrigan, Noa David, Sander Gilman, Galia Hatav, Nate Hoffer, Geoffrey Horowitz, Shlomo Izre’el, George Jochnowitz, Joshua Keller, Geoffrey Khan, Rina Kreitman, Damon Lynch, Aharon Maman, Meira Polliack, Emily Pollokoff, Gabi Rosenbaum, Ora Schwartzwald, Elana Shohamy, Doron Shultziner, Robert Smith, Debra Spitulnik, Devin Stewart, Sasson Somekh, Norman Stillman, Joseph Tedghi, Yosef Tobi, Don Tuten, Ofra Tirosh-Becker, and Sarah Willen. Friends and family stood by me during the long process of writing this book and always bestowed on me emotional support and love: Ursula Blumenthal, Shuki Cohen, the five Harys in Los Angeles (Chris, David, Eliane, Goni, and Tania), Kimberly Katz, Raphy Marom, Wendy Newby, Arnon Rolnick, Mark Tanner, Tsipi Wagner, and especially my father, Meir Hary Ï¢Ê, who always kept asking when the book would appear; also my brother Eli and my sister-in-law Rachel, my nephews, Yuval and Tomer, and their partners Anat and Rony, my great-nephew Yonatan, my niece Mika, and my cousin Yael. Many thanks go to Paul Fenton, the editor of the series, to Michiel Klein Swormink, Publishing Manager, and his team at the Brill office in Boston, Michael Mozina and Jennifer Pavelko, who were cooperative and engaging throughout the process of bringing the book to print. I am also grateful to the units at Emory University of which I am a member: the Department of Middle Eastern and South Asian Studies, the Tam Institute for Jewish Studies, and the Program in Linguistics. All have been consistently helpful and supportive of my research and teaching. Additionally, the Social Science Research Council funded the beginning of this study in 1995; the Emory University Research Committee also contributed funds to the project in 1995; the Institute of Critical International Studies at Emory College of Arts and Sciences funded several international trips connected to this study; the Jewish Studies Enrichment Fund and the Woodruff Fund both helped with the editing; and the Emory College of Arts and Sciences and Emory Graduate School helped finance the completion of this book. xvii

PREFACE Thanks also go to Sulaiman Jubran (chair) and colleagues in the Department of Arabic at Tel Aviv University, where I taught in 2001. I would like to acknowledge the helpful and dedicated staff at the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies in Yarnton Manor at Oxford University, where I spent the spring and summer of 2005 as a Visiting Skirball Fellow. The staff at the Bodleian Library in Oxford was also very helpful. I am also grateful to the staff at the Center for Advanced Judaic Studies at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, who were helpful with assisting me with ms. HB 15. Finally, the Israeli Academic Center in Cairo and especially its administrative and financial director, Amr Zakarya, as well as its general director, Gabi Rosenbaum, gave me an emotional and intellectual home during my visits to Egypt: ‰Î¯·‰ ÏÚ ÌÏÂΠ‡·È. People who know me are familiar with my love of a good cup of cappuccino. I cannot complete my acknowledgments without expressing my gratitude to the staff in several cafés on three continents, where I spent countless hours writing this book: Midcity Cafe, Midtown Starbucks, and Octane Coffee Bar and Lounge in Atlanta; Caffè Nero on Broad Street in Oxford; and Cafeneto and Saquella Café in central Tel Aviv. Atlanta, December 2008 Benjamin H. Hary

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TECHNICAL NOTES (i) In this volume I use a broad phonemic conventional transcription, which is employed regularly in Middle Eastern and Islamic scholarship, for all the Judeo-Arabic citations. The citations include the JudeoArabic spelling in Hebrew characters, followed by a phonemic transcription when deemed necessary. Then follows the citation from the manuscripts (in bold) and the folio and the line numbers (all in parentheses), succeeded by the translation into English in single quotation marks. For example, ‰Ï‚Ú˙Ò‡ /ista>galna/ (15 29a,8) ‘we hastened’ is cited from ms. 151 (Genesis), folio 29a, line 8; and ¯˘‡„Á /˙idaa¡ar/ (74 23,17) ‘eleven’ is cited from ms. 74 (Haggadah), folio 23, line 17. In some chapters (such as 4 and 9), a more precise transcription is needed, so the allophonic (narrower) transcription is displayed, as is customary, between square brackets [ ], while the (broader) phonemic transcription appears between slashes / /. (ii) The transcription normally does not indicate initial glottal stops for the following reasons: first, it is not customary in works of Middle Eastern and Islamic Studies; second, the phoneme is not always attested in the spoken variety; and finally, Wehr’s dictionary of standard Arabic (1976, 1994) uses the practice adopted here. Thus, in the following examples the initial glottal stop is not marked in the transcription: ‰Á‡ /i˙na/ (15 10a,16) ‘we’ and Â˙‡ /intu/ (74 14,1) ‘you (masc. pl.).’ The same occurs with nouns that follow the definite article: /al-um¥r/ ‘the things,’ rather than /al->ål] ‘a thief’ seems to be derived from Aramaic [¡qal] ‘take.’ • Judeo-Persian used in Isfahan is easily distinguished from the Persian used by Muslims in that city (Rabin et al. 1979:53). However, Muslim Iranians in some Iranian villages, such as Sede and others, use the same Judeo-Persian employed in Isfahan only by Jews (ibid., 56). • According to reports from early modern Saloniki, non-Jews, especially those who worked in the city’s harbor, employed JudeoSpanish as their daily speech. The historical background of this linguistic phenomenon is the demographic prevalence of Jews in the Saloniki port, which was so pronounced that there were periods when it was closed on Shabbat. • In Ruthenia (now western Ukraine) it was common for Orthodox Christian nannies to learn Yiddish and use it to communicate with the Jewish families for whom they worked. They would also teach Jewish children the Hebrew prayers, while Hebrew blessings were widespread among the general Orthodox Christian population.2 7 • The greatest challenge to traditional definitions of Jewish languages is the case of Modern Hebrew as used in Israel today. The majority of Israel’s non-Jews, over a fifth of the country’s citizens, are to varying degrees bilingual, usually Hebrew-Arabic and sometimes Hebrew-Russian. In spite of popular misperceptions, the linguistic community of Hebrew in Israel is no longer defined by religion, but, for the most part, by citizenship or residence. Since, as we have seen, Christians or Muslims may enter into the Jewish linguistic spectrum, 2 8 or they might use some of what started out as distinctively Jewish features, it would certainly be preferable to use the term “Jewish-defined languages,” i.e., languages that were 27

See Erez 1959:231–44, 249–52; Sole 1959:149; and Wein 2007, the section on Christians and Jews in Ruthenia. 28 This is in contrast to M. Zand who claims that “a Jewish language … serves … only the Jewish population of that area” (Rabin et al. 1979:55).

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THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM defined by Jews, often standardized by Jewish Bible translations or the Hebrew Bible itself, but not all of whose elements were used exclusively by them. Of course, there is also a need for a discourse on Christian- as well as Muslim-defined languages.2 9 The Characteristics of Jewish Varieties It is generally acknowledged that Jewish varieties share a number of traits. The prototypical Jewish religiolect possesses certain features, ranging from script and grammatical structure to a specific tradition of translating sacred texts. Of course, not every Jewish religiolect needs to have all the features in order to qualify, as the existence of the Jewish linguistic spectrum makes clear. The first and most conspicuous of these features is the consistent use of Hebrew characters in writing.3 0 Jews almost invariably adopted the spelling conventions of Talmudic orthography, including the use of word-final letter forms and the occasional marking of vowel sounds, using available (consonantal) letters and/or other signs. Thus, the Hebrew script in this case symbolizes the Jewishness of the community. It is, in fact, not uncommon to find the script used as a mark of the religious affiliation of the users of a language, as with the Arabic script which is used for writing Aljamiado,3 1 (Muslim) Chinese, Jawi (Malay), M åppil¢l¢a-Malayalam,3 2 Persian, Olttoman Turkish, and Urdu, for

29

For a treatment of the issue, see Hary-Wein 2008. Of course there are some exceptions. For example, Schwarzwald notes that most of the Judeo-Spanish literature in the Ottoman Empire in the last few hundred years was written in Hebrew characters (2001:82); however, Ottoman Judeo-Spanish was written in Hebrew characters only until the 1920s, when Attaturk legislated the use of Latin characters for Turkish. 31 López-Morillas has writen that the Arabic script in Aljamiado (a Spanish variety used by the Moriscos in the sixteenth century) and in other Muslim languages, as well as the Hebrew script in Jewish languages, became “an explicit emblem for the religious and cultural cohesion of the linguistic group” (1994:17). 32 This is a castelect of Muslims in North Malabar. It is written in Arabic script with some orthographic adjustments to the phonetic system of Malayalam. 30

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CHAPTER ONE example—all languages used by predominantly Muslim language communities. Similarly, the Cyrillic script of Serbian symbolizes the importance of the Eastern Orthodox Church in that language community, whereas Croatian, although practically identical to Serbian, at least until the recent political developments, is written with the Latin script, in line with the Roman Catholic background of most of its users.3 3 The second trait to be found among many Jewish varieties is the use, sometimes simultaneously, of different traditions of orthography. Such competition among various orthographic systems is typical of a situation in which the choice among linguistic systems transmits implicit political, cultural, and religious messages. This can be seen, for example, in the Soviet spelling reform of Standard Yiddish. In contrast to the decision to use the traditional spelling of Hebrew/Aramaic-derived words taken at the Czernovitz conference, in the USSR there was an attempt to dissociate Yiddish from its religious roots (among others) by abolishing this orthographic tradition. Thus, the name of the Yiddish Communist newspaper and publishing house Emes ‘The Truth’ (a literal translation of Russian /pravda/) was spelled phonetically ÒÚÓÚ (/emes/) rather than traditionally ˙Ó‡ (/emet/), like the Hebrew word from which it is derived.3 4 An example from Judeo-Arabic is the historical competition among the Phonetic, the Arabicized, and the Hebraized orthographies (Hary 1996c). The tension between the latter two types of orthography from the fifteenth century onwards reflected the changing dynamics of interreligious relations, including the changing proximity between Jews and Muslims. In other words, the emergence of a Hebraized orthography in Late Judeo-Arabic was driven, among 33

I do not wish to imply here that people actually “choose” a script to fit their need for religious identification. While this may sound democratic, it is probably quite unhistorical. However, whenever rulers imposed a religion on a country, the religious authorities would usually be given responsibility for education, and they would of course impose their standards, including the script, on that country. 34 This does not mean that /emet/ was ever pronounced by Yiddish speakers. See Hary 1992:112–13 for further examples.

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THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM other things, by an increasing fragmentation of society along religious lines, evident also in Christian-dominated countries in the same period (Israel 1989). Similarly, the switch from the Phonetic to the Arabicized orthography in the tenth century and the subsequent disappearance of the former (Blau and Hopkins 1984:13–15; Hary 1996c:737) may hint at increased literacy. It is clear that the Phonetic orthography reflected a culture that was centered on oral rather than written transmission. This kind of competition between various systems is sometimes characteristic of varieties lacking standard forms. A third typical feature of Jewish religiolects is the incorporation of Hebrew and Aramaic elements. These are found not only in the religious and cultural sphere, but in the entire lexicon, as well as in the phonology, morphology, and syntax. For example, in Later Judeo-Arabic some authors use /ilå/ ‘to’ as a marker for the definite direct object, in imitation of the Hebrew accusative marker ˙‡ /et/ in Hebrew (Hary 1991b), something that is not found in non-Jewish Arabic varieties. Furthermore, in the Judeo-Arabic dialect of Peq•>•n the Hebrew root il/, which has replaced it in the modern Egyptian dialect. In addition, the interrogative pronouns /∑¡/ ‘what,’ /l∑¡/ ‘why,’ and /k∑f/ ‘how’ of Cairene Judeo-Arabic have survived in the sentence-initial position (pp. 114–16, 2.1.6), in contrast to the situation in the standard dialect, where other pronouns, /∑h/ ‘what,’ /l∑h/ ‘why,’ and /ezzåy/ ‘how’ appear at the end of the sentence. Furthermore, the demonstrative pronoun /de/ ‘this (masc.),’ an older Cairene form, survived among Jews through the twentieth century.3 9 Jewish Malayalam also possesses many archaic forms, the most striking of which is the dative ending 37

See Hary 1992:278 and the references there. See also chapter 4, p. 118, 2.2.2, for the clarification of the term “western” dialects. 38 On the other hand, as this form exists not only among Cairene Jews, but also in the west Delta (Behnstedt 1978:69), it is perhaps not of Maghrebi origin, but may have developed independently in Egypt. However, the existence of /niktib-niktíbu/ in the west Delta does not preclude the idea of migrated or displaced dialectalism as advanced above. See other examples of migrated dialectalism in Judeo-Arabic in chapter 4, p. 103, 1.1.6; p. 105, 1.6; p. 110, 1.13.4; and p. 114, 2.1.4.3. 39 Blanc 1974:216; Rosenbaum 2002c:126; see also pp. 113–14, 2.1.4.1.

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CHAPTER ONE /-ikku*/, instead of /-u*/, for nouns and pronouns ending in /-an/, e.g., /j•vanikku*/ ‘for life’ (instead of /j•vanu*/) and /avanikku*/ ‘for him (third person singular with dative ending)’ (instead of /avanu*/).4 0 Preserving archaic forms is also typical of migration languages. For example, French Quebec preserves archaic forms that are not used in Parisian French. Similarly, “western” Arabic dialects preserve forms that are common in the Koran but are not found in “eastern” dialects, for example, the word /˙¥t/ ‘fish,’ also found in the Koran, versus its “eastern” equivalent /samak/.4 1 In this respect it is only fitting that Judeo-Spanish and Yiddish, two Jewish religiolects with a rich history of migration, use many archaisms. The former preserves the archaic Old Spanish phonemes /¡/ and /d≈/, as opposed to /x/ for both in modern Spanish. Yiddish has kept the archaic word hait, which has disappeared as an independent word from German, surviving only as a suffix, e.g., Kindheit (Birnbaum 1979:10). Eighth, Jewish speakers have usually considered their varieties as separate from the majority languages and have given them special names, such as /il-lu\a dyalna/ ‘our language’ or /il->arabiyya dyalna/ ‘our Arabic’ in Moroccan Judeo-Arabic, whereas Muslim Moroccan Arabic is termed /il->arabiyya dilmsilm•n/ ‘the Arabic of the Muslims’ (Bar-Asher 1988; Stillman 1988). In Jewish Malayalam, speakers call their variety /malayalam ¡elanu/ ‘our Malayalam’ and distinguish it from other varieties of Malayalam, /ze lo malayalam ¡elanu/ ‘this is not our Malayalam.’ 4 2 Furthermore, Kerala Jews also refer to their language variety as malbarit or cochinit.

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According to Ophira Gamliel, this archaic form is represented even today in the speech of Kerala Jews in Israel. Ayyar states that (1993:27–28) the dative /-ukku*/ after /-an/ was alternating with /u*/ in the earliest Malayalam inscriptions (note that the phonemes /u/ and /i/ alternate in Malayalam). There is only one text that has this archaic ending, the Råmacaritam from the thirteenth century. 41 For more examples see Shin>ar in Rabin et al. 1979:56–57. 42 They say it in Hebrew. In fact, “our Malayalam” is probably something that other speakers of castelects in Kerala might use to refer to their variety.

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THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM Ninth, the “spirit” of Jewish-defined languages, their reservoir of images, formulations, concepts, and icons, is derived from Jewish sources in Hebrew and Aramaic, usually sacred texts. Tenth, many Jewish religiolects share a unique literary genre, the verbatim translation of sacred religious and liturgical Hebrew/Aramaic texts into the various Jewish religiolects (¡ar˙, pl. ¡ur¥˙, in JudeoArabic;4 3 ¡ar> or ¡ar˙ in Judeo-Neo-Aramaic; tavsili in Judeo-Georgian; tefila in Judeo-Italian; tamsir in Jewish Malayalam; ladino in JudeoSpanish; taytsh in Yiddish; etc.). The translations include the Bible, Midrashic literature, Pirkei Avot (“Ethics of the Patriarchs,” a tractate of moral and religious teachings from the Second Temple period and the first centuries of the Common Era), the Passover Haggadah, the Siddur or prayer book, the Talmud, and more. However, the existence of these typical features of a Jewish variety does not mean that in order to qualify as such a variety needs to possess them all. Whenever a language variety used by Jews differs, even if only slightly, from the majority language, it deserves to be considered as part of the Jewish linguistic spectrum. Jewish varieties are thus best placed on a continuum stretching from those with a high concentration of the most prominent characteristics (Yiddish, for example) to those with only few and marginal traits (varieties of secular Jewish English, for example). Other forms of Jewish linguistic practice are located somewhere between these two poles. A List of Jewish Varieties Jewish varieties are numerous and, as the following list shows, reflect Jewish history and geography. 4 4 Beside Hebrew, the primary Jewishdefined language (although see Ornan 1985), Jewish forms of Aramaic 43 44

See chapter 3 for a detailed analysis of the genre of the ¡ar˙. See the Jewish Languages Research Website (http://www.jewish-languages. org/), edited and designed by Sarah Benor and Tsuguya Sasaki/Tsvi Sadan. This website is an important endeavor toward a new understanding of the Jewish linguistic spectrum.

25

CHAPTER ONE began to develop even before the beginning of the Common Era. Before the end of the Second Temple period, Hellenistic Jews began to employ the Greek Koiné in its Jewish form, Yevanic, which many centuries later in the Balkans came to be known as Judeo-Greek. Judeo-Arabic began to develop in the seventh century C.E., with the spread of Islam in the Middle East and North Africa; Jews from Spain to Iraq adopted forms of Arabic and created Judeo-Arabic varieties. In North Africa, Judeo-Berber (Berberic) emerged, and in Iran, Judeo-Persian (Parsic). In Christian Europe, Latin eventually gave rise to at least six different Jewish religiolects: Judeo-Italian (Italkian) in Italy, JudeoProvençal (Shuadit) in southern France and Judeo-French (Zarphatic) in the north, Judeo-Catalan (Catalanic) in the eastern part of the Iberian Peninsula, Judeo-Portuguese (Portugesic) in the western part, and Judeo-Spanish (Ladino, Jidyó, Judezmo) in between. After the expulsion of the Jews from the Iberian Peninsula toward the end of the fifteenth century, Judeo-Spanish spread east through the Balkans to Turkey and Palestine and south to Morocco and over to some parts of North Africa, in the form of Haketiya (Moroccan JudeoSpanish). Yiddish originated in the tenth century among central European Jews, probably in Southwest Germany, and spread throughout Central and Eastern Europe and into Italy, and centuries later also to the Americas, Australia, Palestine, and South Africa. Before the Holocaust, three-quarters of world Jewry spoke Yiddish. Furthermore, Canaanic (Knaanic, also known as Judeo-Czech and JudeoSlavic) emerged in Slavic-speaking areas, and Judeo-Alsatian (YédischDaïtsch) in Alsace. In the east, Kurdish Jews use Judeo-Neo-Aramaic, Judeo-Arabic dialects, and also Judeo-Kurdish with mixed Hebrew, Turkish, and Arabic elements. In Central Asia, Judeo-Tajik (Bukharic; some speakers call it Farsi) is employed; Judeo-Tat (Judeo-Tatic, or Juhuri, of the Iranian family) is used by Jews in Daghestan in the eastern and northern Caucasus, and Judeo-Georgian (Gurjic) is used by Jews in Georgia in the southern Caucasus. Judeo-Crimchak (of the Turkic family) is employed by Crimean Jews, both Rabbinic and 26

THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM Karaite. Further to the east, Jewish Malayalam developed, especially among the Jews of Kerala in southern India. Most speakers of these religiolects have emigrated to Israel, France, North America, and elsewhere. Consequently, Jewish religiolects have declined, some have become endangered, and others are now extinct. On the other hand, these varieties are being replaced in recent decades by new Jewish religiolects. In Australia, Canada, South Africa, the United Kingdom, the United States, and elsewhere, some forms of Jewish English have emerged, especially in the last century and particularly among Orthodox Jewish communities. In France a form of Judeo-French has emerged, and in Argentina, Mexico, and other Spanishspeaking places, new varieties of Latin American Judeo-Spanish are being formed. The same holds true for Judeo-Dutch in the Netherlands, for Judeo-Russian in Israel and Russia, and so forth (see p. 8). Three Jewish religiolects hold a special place in Jewish culture, because they have been used both over a wide geographical area and for a long period of time: Judeo-Arabic, Judeo-Spanish, and Yiddish. Among these Judeo-Arabic holds pride of place: it has had the longest recorded history, from the pre-Islamic period to the present; it spans the widest continuous geographical area, from Spain to Yemen and Iraq; and “it was the medium of expression for one of the foremost periods of Jewish cultural and intellectual creativity” (Stillman 1988:3–4).

27

CHAPTER TWO JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM This chapter explores Judeo-Arabic within the framework of other Jewish religiolects. It reviews the history of this religiolect and analyzes its structure in some detail. It then discusses the language continuum employed by users of Judeo-Arabic and traces its diachronic evolution. The chapter also tackles some terminological issues, especially with respect to the denotation of Arabic-speaking Jews. Finally, the chapter discusses the state of Judeo-Arabic today.1 An Overview of Judeo-Arabic Judeo-Arabic is a religiolect (see pp. 12–13) that has been spoken and written in various forms by Jews throughout the Arabic-speaking world. Judeo-Arabic literature deals for the most part with Jewish topics, and is written by Jews for a Jewish readership. Several important features distinguish it from other varieties of Arabic. These include a mixture of elements of Classical and post-Classical Arabic, dialectal components, pseudocorrections, and pseudocorrections that have become standardized. In other words, it is a typical mixed variety. Judeo-Arabic also possesses a number of specific additional sociolinguistic and sociocultural features that set it apart: the use of Hebrew rather than Arabic characters, various traditions of Judeo-Arabic orthography, elements of Hebrew and Aramaic vocabulary and grammar,

1

Some of the material in this chapter was published in different form in Hary 1992 and 2003.

CHAPTER TWO and the style of the ¡ar˙ in Judeo-Arabic texts.2 Judeo-Arabic speakers have been a topic of discussion academically and politically for many years in Israeli society. Many designations for speakers of Judeo-Arabic exist, including Mizrahim (or Á¯ÊÓ‰ ˙„Ú, lit. “the communities of the East”), Sephardim (lit. “Spaniards”), and “Arab Jews.” Actually, the term Mizrahim, lit. “Easterners” (translated as “oriental Jews”) is of course a misnomer, since Moroccan Jews, for example, hardly count as being from the east, if the point of reference is Israel.3 The term Sephardim has its own problems. Strictly speaking, it refers to Jews whose ancestors had been expelled from the Iberian Peninsula, up to and especially in 1492, and who then settled in the Ottoman Empire and other countries. Although many Jews of the Ottoman Empire, especially in Arabic-speaking communities, adopted the religious ways and liturgical customs of the expellees from the Iberian Peninsula, pre-Sephardi traditions also survived in many areas, including North Africa. Finally, the term “Arab Jews,” attested historically in various documents but now used only sporadically, may be misleading because the word “Arab” could be perceived as an “ethnic” marker. This leads to three unresolved issues: (i) The word “Arab” as an “ethnic” marker in the current Israeli sense did not exist historically or sociologically before the creation of modern Israel, so Arabic-speaking Jews in the past were conceptualizing something entirely different when designating themselves as “Arab Jews.” (ii) The concept of “ethnicity” itself remains unclear in most contexts, 2

3

The ¡ar˙ is a genre composed of literal translations of Jewish religious sacred texts from Hebrew into Judeo-Arabic. The reference here is to the style of this genre, characterized by Hebrew and/or Aramaic interference. Another term for this style is “Hebraism.” An imaginary line drawn diagonally across the Mediterranean, from the Strait of Gibraltar to the Black Sea, has historically distinguished the Jewish “west” (in fact, north) from the Jewish “east” (in fact, south). This raises a number of questions, such as: Who set this imaginary line? Who used it? For what purposes?

30

JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM the Israeli case included; it is therefore best avoided in academic discourse, unlike the concepts of language or religion, which can be measured and marked more easily. (iii) The term “Arab Jews” bears controversial political connotations in Israel. For example, it may suggest a connection between “Arab Jews” and “Arab Israelis,” whose identity constructions seem similar on the surface, but in fact differ profoundly on various levels. For example, Arab Israelis in general feel less connected to the State of Israel than “Arab Jews.” In addition, many “Arab Jews” object to the term, sometimes strongly, because of the current Arab-Israeli conflict, among other reasons. Although some Israeli intellectuals today refer to themselves as “Arab Jews,” 4 they are probably quite aware that their use of the term with its current connotations is rather remote from the way it may have been used by Jews in premodern Egypt, for example, where the political context was significantly different. Although in the past I have used the term “Jews of Arab lands,” this designation in retrospect may not be the most appropriate. The expression associates “lands” with a nationality, since the term “Arab” may be used to refer to a specific (pan-)nationalism.5 Thus, the use of this term would seem to establish a link, in the Romantic sense, 4

5

For example, members of the “Mizrahi Democratic Rainbow.” Professor Sasson Somekh of Tel Aviv University, an expert on the writings of the Egyptian author Nag•b Ma˙f¥z, spoke out at an “Iraqis conference” held at Tel Aviv University in May 2008 against this term, which he claimed was being used for political ends and/or in order to follow current trends. He defined an “Arab Jew” as a person born in an Arabic-speaking Jewish home, who lived in an Arabic-speaking Jewish community in an Arab Muslim environment, and was competent in literary Arabic, the basis of Arab culture. Indeed, I heard Professor Somekh identify himself as an “Arab Jew” at one of the Middle Eastern Studies Association meetings a few years ago. The term “Arab” need not necessarily be identified with nationalism. A Syrian, for example, may ask herself, “Am I a Syrian or an Arab?” However, there have been attempts to demonstrate that the term “Arab” in the context of pan-nationalism encompasses all Arabic-speaking nations.

31

CHAPTER TWO between just one population group and a specific territory. Such a link is factually inaccurate, since many minorities—Jews, Kurds, Berbers, and others—who live in the “Arab lands” have their own national movements. Control of a given territory by a certain population is thus a historical and not a geographical fact; i.e., there is no “natural link” between human population groups and specific territories. Nationalism in the Middle East developed mainly in the twentieth century. Consequently, the terms “Arab Jews” or “Arabic-speaking Jews,” as historical and cultural designations, are best avoided in reference to any time before the end of the nineteenth century. Afterwards the terms become ambiguous, especially “Arab Jews,” unless one specifically stipulates that the word “Arab” is not being employed in the more recent sense of nationality. Today, such “Arab Jews” are in reality almost exclusively multilingual Israeli, French, or North American nationals who for the most part do not hold any “Arab” citizenship (except for some Moroccan Jews). When referring to the time period from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present, the term “Jews of Arabic-speaking backgrounds” is thus more suitable. For premodern times the term “Arabic-speaking Jews” is fitting as well, and is therefore used extensively in this volume. The two latter terms would probably also be acceptable to more people than the term “Arab Jews.”6 The History of Judeo-Arabic At two points in its history, Judeo-Arabic underwent dramatic changes in its structure and use. The first change occurred during the fifteenth century, when the Jewish world reduced its contact with its Arab 6

This topic deserves further investigation. The following questions could be posed to subjects and then analyzed: What does the term “Arab Jews” mean to you? What does it evoke? What does the Arab part evoke and what does the Jews part evoke? Provide ten associations when you hear the term “Arab Jews,” etc. For a recent discussion of some of these issues, see Gottreich 2008 and Levy 2008.

32

JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM counterpart. Although a great number of Jews settled in the Ottoman Empire after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492, and in some ways experienced even more intense contact with the Muslim world, many curtailed their contacts with Arabs, their language, and their culture. Jews felt the need for more separation from their Muslim (and Christian) neighbors and began to congregate in exclusively Jewish neighborhoods (sometimes with active encouragement by the authorities) such as ˙art il-yah¥d (in Egypt) or mEllå˙ (in North Africa). This change was especially marked in some areas like North Africa, but less so in others like Yemen, where close contacts between Jews and non-Jews persisted for some time. As a result, Judeo-Arabic did not develop along the same lines everywhere. Because of the change in contact between the cultures in the fifteenth century, not only did the structure of Literary Written Judeo-Arabic (Hary 1992:79) come to incorporate more dialectal elements, but also more works were written in Hebrew. In fact, Hebrew, Arabic, and Judeo-Arabic were sometimes assigned different usage functions (Drory 1992, 2000). In the twentieth century this religiolect again experienced a dramatic change with the rise of Jewish and Arab national movements, the outbreak of the Arab-Israeli conflict, and the consequent emigration of Jews from Arabic-speaking areas. These changes brought about the loss or near loss of the religiolect. The changes of both the fifteenth and the twentieth centuries brought about an increased use of dialectal elements in Judeo-Arabic texts. However, the changes in the fifteenth century were unique because they featured the development of the Hebraized orthography (Hary 1996c), characterized by, among other things, greater Hebrew/Aramaic influence on Judeo-Arabic spelling. Both changes were intimately connected to the decreased contact between Jews and their Arab neighbors, which led to a somewhat more insular Jewish existence in the Arabic-speaking areas.

33

CHAPTER TWO For purposes of discussion and analysis it is convenient to divide the history of the religiolect into the following periods:7 Pre-Islamic Judeo-Arabic, Early Judeo-Arabic (eighth/ninth to tenth centuries), Classical Judeo-Arabic (tenth to fifteenth centuries), Later Judeo-Arabic (fifteenth to nineteenth centuries), and Contemporary Judeo-Arabic (twentieth century). This periodization, however, should not draw attention away from the major changes that occurred in the fifteenth and then in the twentieth century, as represented in figure 1: Judeo-Arabic

Medieval

Late

Modern

Pre-Islamic > Early > Classical > Later > Contemporary (Change I) (Change II) Figure 1. Periodization of Judeo-Arabic

There is a linear connection between medieval, late, and modern Judeo-Arabic.8 In other words, although the religiolect experienced two dramatic changes in its development, one in the fifteenth and the other in the twentieth century, it can still be divided into successive periods, each of which was influenced by its predecessor. The following paragraphs shed some light on each of the periods. There is some evidence that the Jews in the Arabian Peninsula during the pre-Islamic period used a type of Arabic Jewish dialect 7

8

I have offered a periodization of Judeo-Arabic elsewhere: Hary 1992:78, 1995:74–77, 1996c:730, 1997b:200–203, 2003:52–53; Elqayam and Hary 1997: 111–12; and more. In the periodization here, unlike in the previous instances, I am taking into account the two dramatic changes that occurred in this religiolect. The dialectologist Haim Blanc was the first to point me in this direction. In his works on spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic (1974, 1981, 1985) he demonstrated a linear connection between the different periods of Judeo-Arabic in Egypt.

34

JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM called al-Yah¥diyya (Newby 1971, 1988:21–23; Gil 1984:206). This dialect was similar to the Arabic dialect used by the majority, but included some Hebrew and Aramaic lexemes, especially in the domains of religion and culture. Some of these Hebrew and Aramaic words passed into the speech and writing of the Arabs. This explains why words of Hebrew and Aramaic origin appear in the Quran. There is no evidence, however, that Pre-Islamic Judeo-Arabic ever served as the vehicle of a distinct literature. For example, the poetry of the Jewish poet as-SamawÅdiyå< did not differ from that of his Arab contemporaries and, in fact, it constitutes part of the canon of Arabic literature, and not of Jewish literature. Were it not for Arab sources which report that he was Jewish, this fact would probably have remained unknown. In other words, as-SamawÅdiyå< was an Arab poet who happened to be Jewish.9 Yet there may also have existed alYah¥diyya writings in Hebrew characters (Newby 1971:220).1 0 After the conquests of early Islam, the Jews in the newly-conquered lands adopted the conquerors’ language. They began to incorporate Arabic into their writing and gradually developed their own religiolect. The second period of Judeo-Arabic began during the ninth century, and in Egypt already in the eighth century. This was the main period in which the Judeo-Arabic Phonetic orthography was used, though alongside the Arabicized orthography. Since the Phonetic orthography was phonetically based (Blau and Hopkins 1987:124–25; Hary 1996c) it did not imitate the orthography of Classical Arabic. Therefore, in Early Judeo-Arabic only scribes who were educated in Classical Arabic and wrote for readers versed in it used the Arabicized orthography, 9

See Snir 2005:488–91. He has claimed that as-Samaw/ both disappeared, although both are still reflected in the conservative orthography. In addition, /x/ merged with /˙/ (/˙obz/ ‘bread’; /a˙na/ ‘we’). Third, emphatic phonemes became nonemphatic, although the vowels sometimes indicate where an emphatic phoneme existed earlier. Finally, numerous Italian and Sicilian loanwords have been fully integrated into Maltese, resulting in a major morphological restructuring of the language (Versteegh 1997:209–11). The investigation of marginal, minority religiolects or language varieties such as Judeo-Arabic and Maltese makes it easier to understand the diachronic development of Arabic in general. In fact, such investigations open a small window onto Arabic continuglossia in general and can explain some of its historical developments, as well as the development of Arabic dialects throughout history, since the periphery (in these cases, Judeo-Arabic or Maltese) so often points to the center (in this case, Arabic in general). The Current State of Judeo-Arabic As mentioned in the previous chapter, Judeo-Arabic is one of the more significant Jewish religiolects. However, Yiddish and JudeoSpanish enjoy greater recognition and prestige in both Jewish and “non-Jewish” circles. There are several reasons for this. The dominance 44

JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM of Ashkenazi Jewry throughout the twentieth century in two influential Jewish societies, in the United States and in Palestine/Israel, has advanced the prestige of Yiddish over other Jewish religiolects and varieties. In the United States, a special organization, YIVO (˘È„ÈÈ ËÂËÈËÒȇ ¯ÚÎÈÏ˻ه ‹ ˘ÒÈ ‘The Institute for Jewish Studies’), was reestablished to support the teaching and study of Yiddish. Despite competition from Hebrew, especially in twentieth-century Palestine, Yiddish continues to enjoy greater prestige than any other Jewish religiolect (except Hebrew). The tragedy of the Holocaust, coupled with Stalin’s crackdown on Yiddish and the consequent loss of a large number of Yiddish speakers and a fair number of Judeo-Spanish speakers, also helped to increase nostalgic interest in these two religiolects during the twentieth century. In 1996 the Knesset, the Israeli legislature, adopted two laws, the Law of the National Authority for Yiddish Culture (1996) and the Law of the National Authority for Ladino Culture (1996), that established national agencies for the study of Yiddish and Ladino, respectively. Moreover, the Film Industry Regulations of 2001 state specifically that “a film is considered Israeli if the main language in the original copy of the film is either Hebrew, Arabic, Yiddish, or Ladino or some combination of them.” Although the regulations recognize Arabic, as it is one of the two official languages used in the State of Israel, they do not recognize Judeo-Arabic as such. The omission of Judeo-Arabic from the regulations may have adverse consequences because the designation of a film as Israeli entitles its producers to receive grants from the Ministry of Culture. Of course, a movie filmed in Judeo-Arabic could well be recognized as Israeli, since Judeo-Arabic is a variety of Arabic. But symbolically, the fact that Judeo-Arabic is not mentioned in the official regulations of 2001 is very telling. In yet another example, in December 2001 the Israeli Postal Service (ȇÏ·‰ ˙¯˘‰) issued stamps recognizing the Yiddish and the Ladino legacies. All these measures constitute clear symbolic signs of the relative importance of Yiddish and Judeo-Spanish in Israeli society. However, 45

CHAPTER TWO in none of the above examples is recognition given to the Judeo-Arabic linguistic heritage: the Knesset has not adopted a law establishing a national authority for the study of Judeo-Arabic; Judeo-Arabic is not regarded as an officially recognized language in the definition of an Israeli film; and the Israeli postal service has not issued commemorative stamps recognizing Judeo-Arabic culture.2 1 The Israeli public has at most a limited acquaintance with the term “Judeo-Arabic.” An average high-school or university graduate in Israel would likely recognize the words “Yiddish” or “Ladino,” but would be puzzled if confronted with the term “Judeo-Arabic.” Even within the Judeo-Arabic speech community in Israel there is little awareness of the linear link between Medieval, Late, and Modern Judeo-Arabic, or of the connection between the various varieties of Arabic. For example, the famous Israeli soccer player Haim Revivo, who played several years in the Spanish professional soccer league and was very popular there, was asked in an interview about his extensive knowledge of languages. In addition to Hebrew and Spanish, he was asked if he spoke Arabic as well. “No, no, I don’t speak any Arabic,” answered Revivo. “But I thought that you spoke Arabic with your grandmother who came from North Africa,” continued the interviewer. “Oh, that’s very different,” answered Revivo: “I only spoke Moroccan with her.” There are probably several reasons for the Israeli public’s lack of familiarity with the term “Judeo-Arabic,” as exemplified in Revivo’s failure to see the connection between his grandmother’s native tongue, Moroccan Judeo-Arabic, and other varieties of Arabic. One reason is that Israeli Jews may wish to avoid the term “Arabic” because of its connotations in the context of the Arab-Israeli conflict; another reason may be the fact that the various Judeo-Arabic geographical varieties are markedly different from one another, and thus differ also from the 21

I thank my student, Gidon Tikotski, who complained about this in early 2002 to Mr. Yitshaq Granot, Director of Stamp Production and Issuance at the Israeli Postal Company; however, nothing has been done as of yet to rectify the situation.

46

JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM familiar local Palestinian dialect (Myhill 2004:122). Avoidance of the word “Iraq” in the term by which the Iraqi Jewish community in Israel designates itself may be another possible example. The community is called Ï·· ˙„‰È Babylonian Jewry. However, this term has a long history in the Babylonian Talmud, in Benjamin of Tudela’s writings, in the responsa literature, and in the contemporary Jewish community in Mumbai, India,2 2 which may explain the avoidance of the word “Iraq” in the community’s name.2 3 In the Israeli academic community, however, a number of scholars of Medieval and Later Judeo-Arabic have gained prominence, among them many of Arab descent (Avishur, Bar-Asher, Chetrit, Toby, and more). But even in the academic world the situation is embarrassing, since Israeli universities have not created new positions for the teaching and study of Judeo-Arabic in more than a decade. The current “politically correct” attitude towards “Sephardi/Mizrahi” culture in Israel and the United States may have dictated greater recognition of Judeo-Spanish, but so far has not reached Judeo-Arabic. For example, in recent years a “Sephardi/Mizrahi” caucus has been established through the commendable efforts of Aviva Ben-Ur of the University of Massachusetts at Amherst and Norman Stillman of the University of Oklahoma. This caucus meets annually as part of the annual conference of the Association for Jewish Studies. At a recent meeting, one of the panels discussed the incorporation of “Sephardi/Mizrahi” elements into the Jewish Studies curriculum. One of the participants proudly outlined new proposals that had been initiated at his institution to include what he termed “Sephardi and Mizrahi” components of the curriculum. While some Sephardi materials were presented, nothing about Judeo-Arabic or the culture of Arabic-speaking Jews was even 22 23

I thank Shalom Goldman for his remarks on this matter. In a markedly different mode, in May 2008 Tel Aviv University organized an academic congress entitled “The Iraqi Conference,” on the acculturation of Iraqi Jews into Israeli society. The organizers specifically used the term “Iraq” and avoided the traditional term “Babylonian Jewry.”

47

CHAPTER TWO mentioned. Furthermore, Jewish scholarship on Bible translation, although recognizing Saadia Gaon’s tenth-century Judeo-Arabic translation of the Bible, often ignores the huge range of Judeo-Arabic biblical translations. Frederick Greenspahn has quoted Joseph Hertz, the British Chief Rabbi of the first half of the twentieth century, saying that “the history of Jewish Bible translations would summarize the history of the Jews,”2 4 adding that “it is particularly striking to note those languages in which there are several Jewish translations. These include Greek, Aramaic, Yiddish/German, and English, which constitute the major centers of diaspora Jewish life, further illustrating the intimate connection between the history of Jewish Bible translation and of the Jews” (2006:181). It is disappointing to see Greenspahn ignore the plethora of Judeo-Arabic biblical translations as well as the Arabic-speaking Jewish diaspora that for many centuries consisted of more than half of the Jewish population in the world. One very positive development deserves to be mentioned, however. The publishing house Brill, thanks to the great efforts on the part of an editorial team headed by Norman Stillman of the University of Oklahoma, is in the last phases of publishing an Encyclopedia of Jews in the Islamic World, in which Judeo-Arabic has a prominent place. The Judeo-Arabic religiolect today is endangered and close to becoming extinct. The extensive emigration of Arabic-speaking Jews from the late 1940s through the 1960s is the main reason for this situation. Most of these Arabic-speaking Jews came to Israel (although some also immigrated to France, North America, and other places), where they were under great pressure to drop Judeo-Arabic and adopt Hebrew. Today there are still sizeable Jewish communities in Tunisia and in Morocco.2 5 In Morocco, though, most of the Jewish speech community uses French rather than Moroccan Judeo-Arabic. There 24 25

Hertz 1936, 2:74, quoted in Greenspahn 2006:181. According to www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org, and based on American Jewish Year Book, as of 2006 there were 1,100 Jews in Tunisia and 3,000 in Morocco.

48

JUDEO-ARABIC WITHIN THE JEWISH LINGUISTIC SPECTRUM are still speakers of Judeo-Arabic in Israel (and elsewhere) and a show in Moroccan Judeo-Arabic has been broadcast weekly on Israeli radio. According to the SIL International Ethnologue project, as of the mid1990s there were close to 500,000 speakers of Judeo-Arabic, and I assume that the number has declined today to just under 400,000 speakers (see also Spolsky and Shoahamy 1999:3). This population, however, is aging, so that Judeo-Arabic’s use as a native religiolect will likely disappear in the near future. Consequently, there is an urgent need to encourage research on Judeo-Arabic.

49

CHAPTER THREE THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC (THE ¡ar˙) This chapter begins with a general inquiry into the translation of sacred religious texts, mostly liturgical in nature, into Jewish religiolects. It considers the perceived sanctity of the translated texts and demonstrates how translators dealt with the constant linguistic tension between their desire to provide as literal a translation of the original sacred text as possible, and the need to make this translation from Hebrew or Aramaic fit the linguistic parameters of the target religiolect so that the reader could comprehend the texts. The chapter also analyzes the reasons why such translations were made and traces the evolution of this genre, called ¡ar˙ (pl. ¡ur¥˙) in Judeo-Arabic, especially in North Africa, including Egypt, beginning in the fifteenth century, while also taking into account Saadia’s earlier translation of the Bible in the tenth century. This is followed by a review of previous scholarship on the ¡ar˙ and a discussion of the Cairo Collection, from which several manuscripts relevant to this book are taken. The chapter then offers a linguistic model for the analysis of the translations of sacred texts, based on scanning the text in descending units of grammatical structure, from the phrase level down through the lexical, morphosyntactic, and segment levels, and employing a continuum of least-to-most-literal translations. Examples are provided of various categories and linguistic features. The chapter concludes with a description of two mechanisms which translators/interpreters, called ¡ar˙anim in Judeo-Arabic, used when performing translations of sacred texts.

CHAPTER THREE Translation and Issues of Sacredness1 Jewish sacred texts are written primarily in Hebrew and Aramaic and are used, among other things, for liturgy and for study. As mentioned in chapter 1 (p. 25), these texts include the Hebrew Bible, the Talmud, the Siddur or prayer book, the Passover Haggadah, Midrashic literature, and Pirkei Avot, “Ethics of the Patriarchs,” a tractate of moral and religious teachings dating from Second Temple times and the period following the Second Temple’s destruction. The first translations of sacred texts into Jewish religiolects date back to the Gaonic period in Babylonia in the early Middle Ages. In Late Judeo-Arabic the genre is known as ¡ar˙ (pl. ¡ur¥˙), in JudeoNeo-Aramaic it is termed ¡ar> or ¡ar˙, tavsili in Judeo-Georgian, tefila in Judeo-Italian, tamsir in Jewish Malayalam, ladino in Judeo-Spanish, and taytsh in Yiddish; the genre is also documented in Judeo-Provençal, Judeo-Persian, Judeo-Berber, and other Jewish religiolects. Ladino religious literature had its beginnings in pre-expulsion Spain. However, it ripened and flourished only after the expulsion. Three main texts were continuously translated, especially in Constantinople and Salonika, but also in other Sephardi Jewish centers such as Amsterdam, Livorno, Venice, Vienna, and elsewhere. These texts were the Hebrew Bible, the Passover Haggadah, and the tractate of Pirkei Avot, which Sephardi Jews read on Saturdays between Passover and Pentecost (Schwarzwald 1992:12). Sephardi Jews put these texts to both liturgical and pedagogical use. They were taught to students in religious schools and were read in the synagogue and at home (haf†arot, Bible, Pirkei Avot). Some were read on specific Jewish holidays (biblical megillot, Passover Haggadah). In general, a Jewish religiolect draws from and is influenced by both Hebrew and Aramaic. However, the texts of the ¡ar˙, the Ladino religious literature, tefila, and other translations of sacred texts into Jewish varieties are extreme forms of their respective religiolects, since 1

Some of the issues in this section have also been discussed in Hary 2004.

52

THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC they not only draw from Hebrew and Aramaic, but are in fact based on and dependent on them. This makes the genre unique; its investigation clearly reveals the connection between language, religion, and culture. In other words, the intricacies of the ¡ar˙ and other translations of Jewish religious literature demonstrate how a Jewish religiolect operates in a minority Jewish society living under specific linguistic tensions, as will be shown later in the chapter. The translation of sacred texts into different Jewish languages, religiolects, and varieties has been widespread throughout the Jewish world. As we have seen in chapter 1, the occurrence of this genre is a common feature of many Jewish languages. Most Jews learn some Hebrew and Aramaic, but their competence in these languages can vary greatly. When they consult a sacred text, many Jews thus rely not only on the original Hebrew or Aramaic version, but also on a translation in their local variety. Significantly, although numerous Jewish authorities have come out against Bible translations, 2 “Jewish tradition has not merely tolerated [these] translations, but on occasion accorded them with a degree of authority approaching that of the Hebrew” (Greenspahn 2006:181). Thus, the British Chief Rabbi of the first half of the twentieth century, Joseph Hertz, has claimed that “translations of the Bible share in the sacredness of the Original” (1936, 2:71), and German Jewish theologian and philosopher Franz Rosenzweig (1886– 1929) has argued that the “Bible must surely be the first book to be translated and then held equal to the original translation” (1971:366).3 It has been claimed that the ¡ur¥˙ translations were composed primarily for the use of women and children, whose Hebrew was not up to par (Bar-Asher 1988:29–30). However, the translations were not meant to replace the Hebrew Bible, just to complement it. In fact, 2

3

See Greenspahn 2002:61 n. 104: ‰Î¯ˆ ÏÎ Ì‚¯˙‰Ï ‰ÏÂÎÈ ‰¯Â˙‰ ‰˙ȉ ‡Ï (Soferim 1:7) ‘The Torah could not be adequately translated’ and ˘„˜‰ ȯÙÒ ·Â˙ÎÏ Â¯È˙‰ ‡Ï ˘„˜‰ ÔÂ˘Ï· ‡Ï‡ (Nahmanides) ‘It was only permitted to write the sacred books in the holy language.’ Both of these quotations appear in Greenspahn 2006:181, including n. 15.

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CHAPTER THREE Jews continued to read the Bible in Hebrew all over the world, no matter what their linguistic limitations were, and therefore “the Talmud mandates that the Bible be translated at the time that it is read” (Greenspahn 2006:187). Moreover, the ¡ur¥˙ translations still required some knowledge of Hebrew and Aramaic, and thus the claim that the translations were done because of a lack of Hebrew competence is not as accurate as it may seem at first sight. In fact, the translations were written mostly in Hebrew characters, as was customary in Jewish varieties. At times they also incorporated Hebrew and Aramaic words and elements, frequently translating the Hebrew etymologically “so that Hebrew connotations will be more apparent” (Greenspahn 2002:44). Finally, these translations occasionally closely followed the syntactic structures of the Hebrew or Aramaic original, rather than those of the target language, i.e., the Jewish religiolect. The target language in these cases was thus augmented in an effort to translate the original text as literally as possible (Hary 1995). Greenspahn was therefore correct in asserting that the claim that “these translations are evidence of and adjustment to Jewish assimilation” is inaccurate (Greenspahn 2000:6). According to him, “Jewish versions of the Bible are not simply accommodations to linguistic necessity, but also an expression of communal identity and an assertion of ownership of the Bible” (idem, 2006:195). In fact, these translations “reflect the communities which produce them” (ibid., 194). The sacredness in which these translations are held is not uniform. Indeed, the degree of sanctity of holy texts within the Jewish tradition varies, depending on the text, the place, and the time. For example, all of the Hebrew Bible is considered sacred, but its holiest part is the Torah, or the Five Books of Moses. Further, the Ten Commandments are more sacred than other parts of the Torah. Similarly, Genesis, the first book of the Torah, is more sacred than the Song of Songs, but the Song of Songs is still part of the Hebrew Bible, and so derives its sanctity from its inclusion in the sacred canon. In postbiblical sacred texts, the question of the degree of sanctity arises as well. For example, 54

THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC different Midrashim4 may possess different degrees of sanctity. Thus Halakhic Midrashim are considered more sacred, because they are more closely linked to the Torah than Aggadic Midrashim are.5 The notion of sacredness is therefore best understood as occupying a continuum. On one end there is the Hebrew Bible, usually considered the ultimate sacred text in Jewish tradition. Other texts and phenomena then can be located along the continuum, at varying distances from the Hebrew Bible, each in accordance with its specific degree of sacredness. Texts such as translations of the Hebrew Bible or Halakhic Midrashim that are strongly connected to the Hebrew Bible will be found closer to the sacred end of the continuum than texts that are not connected directly to the Hebrew Bible.6 But not only texts reside along this continuum, which can accommodate other cultural elements as well—orthography, for example. As shown above in chapter 1 (pp. 19–21), writing systems often serve as religious symbols. The Arabic alphabet is a marker for Islam in languages such as Persian, Urdu, and Osmanli. The Cyrillic alphabet used in Serbian is a marker for the Eastern Orthodox Church, just as the Latin alphabet, in which Croatian is written, is a marker for Catholicism. Jewish languages are most often written in Hebrew characters; consequently, the Hebrew alphabet, as the marker of Hebrew/Jewish religious culture, may itself be considered sacred. Texts written in Jewish religiolects using Hebrew characters may thus be sacred, although

4

5

6

The terms Midrash (sg.) and Midrashim (pl.) refer to a specific rabbinic literature of homilies, interpretations, and biblical exegesis. Midrashim offer commentaries on some books of the Hebrew Bible. The issue in rabbinic literature concerns the status of Aggadic Midrashim, which were the subject of some controversy in the Middle Ages. In other words, the rabbis were not sure how literally to take them. See R. Abraham ben Ha-Rambam’s lengthy essay (reprinted in most editions of >Ein Ya>aqov), where he discusses the many categories of the Aggadic Midrashim. I thank Michael Berger, personal communication. I thank Gordon Newby for several of the ideas expressed here, due to a number of extended conversations we had on this topic.

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CHAPTER THREE the degree of sanctity is determined primarily by the sacredness of the text. For example, translations of the Bible into Jewish varieties are particularly sacred because, in addition to using Hebrew characters, they are closely associated with the most sacred end of the continuum. I call this relationship “sanctity by association.”7 Thus, translations of sacred texts such as the Bible into Jewish varieties are more sacred than other writings in Jewish varieties, whose sanctity derives merely from their use of the Hebrew alphabet—a marker of Jewish religion and culture; the translations are not sacred to the same degree as the Hebrew original itself. Saadia’s tenth-century translation of the Bible (tafs•r) raises an interesting question with regard to the concept of “sanctity by association,” particularly in relation to the ¡ur¥˙ translations of the fifteenth century and beyond (see below, pp. 60–63). Saadia translated the Bible into Classical Judeo-Arabic, with few colloquial elements, using an idiomatic, nonliteral style of translation; but the ¡ur¥˙ translations were composed in Later Judeo-Arabic, frequently in a verbatim style. Which of these translations was considered more sacred? According to the concept of “sanctity by association,” the ¡ur¥˙ translations and the tafs•r would both be expected to be located near the sacred end of the continuum because they are translations of the Hebrew Bible. But the ¡ur¥˙ translations are indeed considered more sacred than the tafs•r because of their verbatim style. Saadia’s translation was widely read throughout the Arabic-speaking Jewish world and was certainly considered “sacred.” However, as mentioned below (pp. 61–62), Rabbi Issachar ben Susan criticized Saadia in the introduction to his sixteenth-century ¡ar˙ to the Bible for having written in a language that was difficult to understand, adding that therefore the tafs•r was ignored and neglected. This is a clear indication that Issachar 7

In Hary 2004:234 I called this “guilt by association.” I now prefer to call it “sanctity by association.” For example, since a translation of the book of Genesis is associated with the original sacred Hebrew text, this association makes the translation sacred as well. I thank Nick Fabian for his suggestion.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC ben Susan may have considered Saadia’s tafs•r to be less sacred than scholars had previously thought. For this reason Issachar ben Susan thought that a new translation was needed.8 The Translator’s Dilemma The texts of the ¡ar˙, the Ladino religious literature, tefila, and translations of sacred texts into other Jewish varieties exhibit a constant linguistic tension between the translator’s desire to retain the original sacred text word for word and the need to produce a translation that readers could understand. Greenspahn was correct in arguing that “translations that preserve the sound, syntax, and etymological relationships of the original … are unlikely to read smoothly in their target languages. It is, therefore, not surprising that numerous Jewish renderings have been criticized for being overly literal and wooden” (2002:51). This is one of the reasons why many translators sought to balance their literal translations with interpretations. In the ¡ar˙, for example, we find Judeo-Arabic verbatim translations that result in “un-Arabic” structures which imitate the Hebrew source and deviate from standard Judeo-Arabic. On the other hand, in order to produce an easily comprehensible translation, the text must be interpreted from time to time; this is done through the use of word substitution, paraphrase, and the addition of flavor from the local dialect. At times the translation is uncompromisingly literal: every Hebrew word is equivalent to exactly one word in Judeo-Arabic, in order to preserve the Hebrew syntactic structure. In these cases the Judeo-Arabic translation seems strange to native speakers, because the Arabic words become subject to the grammatical rules that govern their Hebrew equivalents and the translator risks creating structures that are unacceptable in Arabic. For example, in the Egyptian Judeo-Arabic Passover Haggadah the following example appears: ÈÎÁÏ ‰ÈÏÚ ‰ÈȈ ‘we are

8

I thank Geoffrey Khan for helping me pose these questions.

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CHAPTER THREE duty-bound to tell.’9 This is a verbatim translation of the Hebrew ‰ÂˆÓ ¯ÙÒÏ ÂÈÏÚ. The reason given in the literature for this method of translation is pedagogical. In teaching Jewish sacred texts, one or several words were read aloud in Hebrew, and these were immediately followed by the Judeo-Arabic equivalent from the ¡ar˙. Therefore, the latter had to maintain a word order which exactly followed the Hebrew text. Students were taught to recite after the teacher, first in Hebrew and then in Judeo-Arabic, as follows: ‰ÂˆÓ - ‰ÈȈÂ; ÂÈÏÚ - ‰ÈÏÚ; ¯ÙÒÏ - ÈÎÁÏ.1 0 Through such rote repetition they were also indirectly taught Hebrew grammar. For example, in Arabic there is no equivalent to the Hebrew particle ˙‡ /et/ which marks the definite direct object; in Egyptian ¡ur¥˙ it was usually rendered with the Judeo-Arabic word ‰Ï‡ /ila/, so that the latter became the marker for the definite direct object:1 1 Ï·‚ ‰Ï‡ ÂÈ˘ÚÏ ˙ËÚ ÂÈ˘Ú ‰Ï‡Â ·Â˜ÚÈ ‰Ï‡ ˜ÁˆÈÏ ˙ËÚ ˜ÁˆÈ ‰Ï‡ ÂÏ ˙ËÚ ¯ÈÚ˘ ‘and I gave him Isaac, and I gave unto Isaac Jacob and Esau, and I gave unto Esau Mount Seir.’1 2 This is the translation of the Hebrew, ¯ÈÚ˘ ¯‰ ˙‡ ÂÈ˘ÚÏ Ô˙‡Â ÂÈ˘Ú ˙‡Â ·˜ÚÈ ˙‡ ˜ÁˆÈÏ Ô˙‡Â ˜ÁˆÈ ˙‡ ÂÏ Ô˙‡Â. By learning to correlate the Hebrew /et/ with the Judeo-Arabic equivalent /ila/, students would eventually understand the syntactic function of /et/. It was for such didactic purposes that a Judeo-Arabic word order which exactly followed the Hebrew text was considered necessary. The requisites of teaching, however, were not the only reason for word-for-word translation. A tradition of literal biblical translation had prevailed for centuries before the development of the ¡ar˙. This method of translation, already used in the Targums, no doubt played a key role in shaping the ¡ar˙. Indeed, the desire for literal translation 9

This sentence is taken from an Egyptian Judeo-Arabic Haggadah, ms. 3 3,6. See the critical edition in Hary 2009. 10 Read from left to right: /mitzva/ - /wißiyya/ (in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic), etc. 11 See Hary 1991, 1992:300–303 and chapter 8 of this volume, pp. 257–64. 12 Taken from an Egyptian Judeo-Arabic Haggadah, ms. 3 6,7–9. See the critical edition in Hary 2009. I underlined /ila/ in the Judeo-Arabic and /et/ in the Hebrew.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC was so compelling for Judeo-Arabic authors that they were willing to violate rules of Arabic linguistic structure, to the point of assigning new functions to prepositions (/ila/ ‘to,’ for example) in order to produce a text that imitated the sacred Hebrew original as literally as possible. This willingness to violate Arabic grammar may have been connected to the role that Judeo-Arabic played in maintaining Jewish identity in Diaspora minority communities. The demand for verbatim translations of Hebrew sacred texts into Judeo-Arabic may well reflect a strong desire to connect to Jewish heritage in a foreign environment (Muslim in this case). Because of their tight connection to the Hebrew sacred texts, the ¡ur¥˙ gained acceptance as holy texts themselves. As such, they were not updated and eventually became unintelligible as the distance between the language of an old ¡ar˙ and contemporary users became greater. Nevertheless, the ¡ar˙ exhibits numerous examples of nonliteral translations or the use of local dialectal elements in the texts. Thus, the ¡ar˙ demonstrates the constant tension between literal translation and the need to interpret the text and adapt it to the standard Judeo-Arabic style. The same type of linguistic tension is also found in the Ladino religious literature. The translations in this literature are also typically quite literal, but here and there one finds examples of interpretation in them. The Hebrew phrase ¯ÓÂÁ Ϙ ‘an inference from minor to major (a minori ad majus)’ is literally rendered in all the Saloniki versions of the Ladino translations of Pirkei Avot as Ò‡„‡‚ÊÈ٠‡ Ò‡‡ÈÈ»·ÈÏ livianas o pesgadas ‘lightness or heaviness’ (Schwarzwald 1989:7). The root ‰‡¯ ‘see,’ although often translated literally as ‰¯È»· vera ‘see,’ is also interpreted in other places as temera ‘fear’ (ibid., 13). This tension may be exasperated because the paradigms of ‰‡¯ and ‡¯È may overlap (Exod 32:25), causing a possible ambiguity. Furthermore, as a manifestation of the linguistic tension, it is common to find stylistic variations in the literature. For example, the phrase ı¯‡ ͯ„ ‘good (or basic) manners’ may be translated in three different ways: ‰¯ÈÈË È„ Âʇ uso de tierra, ‰¯ÈÈË È„ ȯ·ÓÂËÒ˜ costumbre de 59

CHAPTER THREE tierra, ‰¯ÈÈË È„ ‰Ò‡Ê‡ usança de tierra (Schwarzwald 1989:15). Stylistic variation may also arise in cases where writers wished to elevate the language to what they perceived to be a more respectable literary level. Furthermore, Ladino religious literature is also characterized by archaisms, 1 3 few Hebrew words, and homophony. For example, archaic participial forms are common: ÔÈÈÊÈ„ dizien ‘say’ and Ô‡Ó‡ aman ‘love’; also, the verbal forms ‘I will come, he will come’ are commonly translated with the archaic forms ‰¯È»· ¨È¯È»· verné, verná instead of vendré, vendrá. In addition, the few Hebrew words that do appear in the Ladino literature are drawn from a limited cultural and religious vocabulary. Other Hebrew words such as ÂÏÈÙ‡ ‘although’ and ω˜ ‘public’ are regularly used in Judeo-Spanish, and are therefore not perceived by speakers as Hebrew words. Finally, the choice of words in Ladino reflects homophony, an attempt to adhere as much as possible to the sound of the Hebrew original: the word Ò¯Ù ‘wage’ is rendered by the similar-sounding ÂÈÈÒȯ٠precio rather than by salario; ˘ÙÁÏ and ˘˜·Ï, both meaning ‘seek,’ are rendered by ¯‡˜˘Â· buscar, and ÈÚ and ÔÎÒÓ are both translated as ÂȘÒÈÓ ‘poor’ (ibid., 10–12). The linguistic tension discussed here has been mentioned by other scholars as well. Greenspahn, for example, has mentioned that the “attachment to Hebrew [in Jewish translations of the Bible] would seem to contradict the very enterprise of translation, while incorporating Jewish tradition can jeopardize the literalistic approach to the Bible long associated with Jews. And indeed, such tensions are manifest in the very nature of these renderings” (2002:61). The Development of the ¡ar˙ In the long Judeo-Arabic tradition of translating sacred texts, two historical “breaks” from previous traditions took place. In the tenth century, Saadia Gaon, who was more committed to the Arabic text 13

The use of archaisms is common to many Jewish religiolects. See chapter 1, pp. 23–24.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC than to the Hebrew, departed from the tradition of verbatim translation that had been the norm since the days of the Septuagint and the Targum. His Judeo-Arabic translation of the Bible closely followed the model of post-Classical Arabic; it became a popular text that was widely used and read throughout the Arabic-speaking Jewish world. Furthermore, Saadia’s translation marks the beginning of the period of Classical Judeo-Arabic, and its orthography, imitating Classical Arabic, served as the basis for Classical Judeo-Arabic or Arabicized orthography.1 4 The second break came in the fifteenth century, when the literary genre of the ¡ar˙, or the literal translation of Hebrew and Aramaic religious sacred texts into Judeo-Arabic, began to develop and flourish locally in different communities (Bar-Asher 1988:29–30). The ¡ar˙ was meant to replace Saadia Gaon’s work in the spirit of a previous tradition, by reviving the literal translation pattern of Onqelos. According to Bar-Asher, the ¡ur¥˙ were composed to provide basic education to young students and to the general public, whose knowledge of Hebrew and Aramaic was considered inadequate. This was also the case in other Jewish religiolects. For example, Judeo-Italian tefilot latini or tefilot vulgar were written for the use of women, as reflected in the Judeo-Italian translations of prayer books. In these translations, adjectives and nouns referring to those who pray are in the feminine gender. This may suggest that women were less likely than men to know Hebrew and Aramaic (Jochnowitz 2001). However, as demonstrated above, the motivation behind these translations may have been more complex. In fact, there were several reasons why new translations of religious sacred texts were needed. In the sixteenth century Rabbi Issachar ben Susan wrote a ¡ar˙ to the Bible in whose Hebrew introduction he wrote that “Saadia wrote [his translation] in Classical Arabic … and [his] language is difficult for anyone

14

See Blau and Hopkins 1984; Hary 1992:82–85, 1996c; see also chapter 2, pp. 35–36.

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CHAPTER THREE unaccustomed to it, even if he is a native speaker” (Sasson 1932:64, my translation). In addition, Ben Susan noted that, because Saadia translated the Bible in proper Arabic style, students, and even some teachers, found that their knowledge of Arabic, some six hundred years later, was not adequate for understanding his translation. This is the reason, so Ben Susan claimed, that Saadia’s translation had been neglected, ignored, and sometimes even criticized. Ben Susan in fact reported overhearing an important old rabbi saying that he had “no pleasure from our Rabbi Saadia’s translation because we do not understand what he says” (ibid., my translation). In addition, Ben Susan specifically indicated that Saadia’s translation required more interpretation. Furthermore, women, children, and uneducated people were in need of comprehensible texts for their liturgical and educational use (ibid., 65, 67). All of these considerations led Ben Susan to his conclusion that a new translation of the Bible was needed, which he termed ¡ar˙. He then composed the ¡ar˙ in the Arabic of his time (the sixteenth century) and place (the Maghreb). Avishur (1988:45) has summarized Ben Susan’s arguments and concluded that Saadia’s translation was not suitable for teaching purposes. Because Saadia’s translation was not verbatim, it did not suit the teaching method used by Jews, in which students learned by reciting Hebrew and Aramaic texts together with their Judeo-Arabic equivalent. Piamenta (1988:76) has added that the vocabulary Saadia used in his translation was not understood by the average educated speaker of later periods, and therefore the need for new ¡ur¥˙ arose. Moreover, there may be an additional reason for the development of the ¡ar˙. As I have mentioned elsewhere, 1 5 in the fifteenth century the Jewish world began to sever its contacts with Arab Muslim culture. Jewish authors and translators found a way to reconnect to their Jewish identity via the translation of sacred texts. As more elements from the original Hebrew and Aramaic texts were embedded into the 15

Hary 1995:75 and chapter 2 of this volume, pp. 33–34, 36.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC Judeo-Arabic translations (and not just Hebrew or Aramaic words per se), the reader could feel closer to the original texts. Thus, the ¡ar˙, with its literal adherence to the Hebrew and Aramaic original, opened a small window that allowed Jews to reconnect to sacred Jewish texts even in a language other than Hebrew. Saadia’s translation, which was not literal, did not make this possible (Hary 1994b:25–26). Saadia’s tenth-century translation thus eventually led to a number of distinct results. First, it motivated the genesis and development of the ¡ar˙ as the old translation became less accessible. Second, the fact that Saadia’s translation was not literal forced the ¡ar˙anim to compose verbatim translations that could be used for teaching according to the customary method of repetition. Finally, as Saadia’s tafs•r was no longer understood five hundred years after it was written, the ¡ar˙anim realized that sometimes they had to break away from literal translation and interpret the Hebrew text to some extent. In short, for linguistic and pedagogical reasons as well as for purposes of identity, the ¡ar˙ began to develop in the fifteenth century and eventually replaced Saadia’s translation of the Bible. As of now the various ¡ur¥˙ produced from the fifteenth century to the present are still being collected from three sources: manuscripts, printed versions, and recordings (Avishur 1988:40, 1991:141). In Egypt, unlike most of North Africa, very few ¡ur¥˙ exist in print; there are even fewer recordings, and not many manuscripts. For these reasons, the ¡ur¥˙ from the Cairo Collection, some of which are analyzed in this volume and in Hary 2009, in addition to other manuscripts, stand out as an especially rare and valuable source of information on the development of the Egyptian Judeo-Arabic ¡ar˙. The Cairo Collection The Cairo Collection consists of more than one hundred photocopied manuscripts, mostly from Egypt, dating from the eighteenth century through the twentieth. In the 1980s this collection was brought from a synagogue in Cairo to the Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts 63

CHAPTER THREE in the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem.1 6 The manuscripts contain mainly Jewish liturgical texts written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Judeo-Arabic. The large number of noteworthy documents in the collection has made it possible to reconstruct many features of Egyptian Judeo-Arabic of the eighteenth century and later, and to give us a better understanding of Jewish life in premodern and modern Egypt. The collection is organized in ten boxes. Most of the manuscripts in Hebrew and Aramaic contain piyyu†im; others consist of Shabbat laws, seli˙ot or penitential prayers, ritual slaughter laws, and divorce laws. A number of Hebrew manuscripts contain commentaries on several books of the Bible, and documents addressing liturgical issues such as prayers for the New Year and prayers for Shavuot evening. Most of the manuscripts in Judeo-Arabic are ¡ur¥˙: translations of Passover Haggadot and of the books of Isaiah, Jeremiah (including the haf†ara for the ninth of Av), Ezekiel, the twelve Minor Prophets, Psalms, Job, 1 7 Ecclesiastes, and Ruth. Additional Judeo-Arabic manuscripts include isråa¡ar ˙axam•m ‘The Story of the Ten Rabbis.’ The local flavor of the Egyptian dialect comes through in many of the Judeo-Arabic manuscripts.1 9 One whole manuscript, 16

In consultation with the staff, I named this collection The Cairo Collection. In 2005 my graduate student, Ms. Noa David, completed her master’s thesis, consisting of a critical edition and a linguistic analysis of ten chapters of the ¡ar˙ manuscript of the book of Job in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic from the Cairo Collection. See David 2005. 18 I am currently preparing this text for publication. 19 See chapter 4 for a treatment of the Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect. Even in the titles mentioned above, one feature of this dialect stands out: a preference for the vowel /u/. In standard Egyptian Arabic the word / [†] preceding the [r¢]). This by itself is an indication of an interpretive tendency, since the ¡ar˙an here used a phonological variant to change the original 26

Table 4 below should be consulted in order to follow this example.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC sound of the Hebrew ˙ into Judeo-Arabic /†/ (figure 8-2).

Interpretive (word level/ choice of word)

Literal ‰Úȯ˘

‰¯Â˙ ‰¯ÂË

Figure 8-1. The word level continuum

Interpretive (segment level/ regressive assimilation)

Literal ‰¯ÂË

‰¯Â˙

Figure 8-2. The segmental continuum

In the same way, other linguistic features can be found and analyzed at the appropriate linguistic levels. The reader may think that such an analysis would have to assume that different translations were created by the same ¡ar˙an, in order to demonstrate the complexities of the literal/interpretive linguistic tension. Different ¡ur¥˙ were indeed composed by the same ¡ar˙an; however, it also happened, of course, that various ¡ur¥˙ were written by different ¡ar˙anim. But even if the translations were composed by different ¡ar˙anim, the literal/ interpretive tension is still there to be analyzed, because the ¡ar˙anim appear to have all belonged to one “school of translation,” even if there was no established formal institution. The ¡ar˙anim did not work in isolation, but rather they were part of a group of people, some very learned and others less so, who composed translations of sacred texts and worked within the same modes and principles. 2 7 The following example from the Passover Haggadah illustrates the framework for this linguistic analysis of the ¡ar˙. Table 3 represents a 27

I thank Gunvor Mejdell for alerting me to this point. See also Bar-Asher 1988:8–10 and below in this chapter, pp. 89–90 and chapter 6, p. 165.

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CHAPTER THREE sentence from the Haggadah in four different manuscripts and thus can be used as a good example for comparison. The example also contains several features from all the linguistic levels and many categories. Part 2 of this volume is an expansion of the analysis of the following sentence. It includes examples of all levels, categories, and features based on table 4.

‡¯˜ ‡Ï ÍÓ˘· ¯˘‡ ˙ÂÎÏÓÓ ÏÚ ÍÂÚ„È ‡Ï ¯˘‡

ÌÈ‚‰ χ

28

¬ÓÒ‡ È¥ ‰„ ÌÏ È≤χ ‰Ëψ χ ‰ÏÚ ¬Â¥¯Ú ÌÏ È≤χ ·ÂÚ˘ χ ‰ÏÚ

29

‰„ ÌÏ ¬ÓÒ‡· È≤χ ‰Ëψ χ ‰ÏÚ ¬Â¥¯Ú ÌÏ È≤χ ·ÂÚ˘ χ ‰ÏÚ

30

‰„ ÌÏ ¬ÓÒ‡· È≤χ

ÔÈˇψ ‰ÏÚ ¬ÂÙ¯ÚÈ ÌÏ È≤χ ·ÂÚ˘ χ ‰ÏÚ

31

‰„ ÌÏ ¬ÓÒ‡· È≤χ ÔÈˇψ χ ‰ÏÚ ¬Â¥¯ÚÈ ÌÏ È≤χ ·ÂÚ˘ χ ‡ÏÚ

Í˙ÓÁ ÍÂÙ˘ ‰ „ ‚ ‰ ¬˙˜‡ÓÁ ·ÂÎÒ‡ ± ¬˙‡ÓÁ ·ÂÎÒ‡ ≤ ¬˙ÈÈÓÁ ·ÎÒ‡ ≥ ¬˙˜‡ÓÁ ·ÂÎÒ‡ ¥

Translation: ‘Pour out your wrath upon the nations that did not know you and upon the kingdoms that did not call your name.’ Table 3. The example from the Passover Haggadah

The analysis of the linguistic features is performed as follows, using the model provided in table 4: (1) ÍÂÙ˘ > ·Î҇طÂÎÒ‡: (i) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: TMA; Feature: tense/ aspect (11-1). Judeo-Arabic ·Î҇طÂÎÒ‡ ‘pour’ translates the Hebrew imperative ÍÂÙ˘ literally, using an imperative form in Judeo-Arabic as well. (ii) Level: word; Category: lexicon; Feature: root choice (considerations of sound/appearance) (3-2). The decision to use the JudeoArabic root s-k-b was interpretive, since another choice was available to the ¡ar˙an, one which would have been closer to 28

Ms. Ms. 30 Ms. 31 Ms. 29

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3, folio 23,4. 74, folio 13,1. 91, folio 10b,4. 93, folio 63,10.

THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC the sound or appearance of the Hebrew original (Õ · ”). (2) Í˙ÓÁ > ¬˙˜‡ÓÁ/¬˙‡ÓÁ/¬˙ÈÈÓÁ (i) Level: word; Category: lexicon; Feature: root choice (considerations of sound/appearance) (3-2). The decision to use the JudeoArabic roots ˙-m-q and ˙-m-y was literal, since the ¡ar˙an chose Judeo-Arabic roots with sounds close to those of the Hebrew: W)ULŠ ‘anger’ (‚  Õ) and WOLŠ ‘rage’ (Ë Â Õ). (3) χ > ‰ÏÚ/‡ÏÚ (i) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: prepositions/particles; Feature: prepositions (5-1). The choice of the Judeo-Arabic preposition >ala represents the interpretive tendency, since the resulting translation is not literal. In fact, in a verbatim translation we would expect the Judeo-Arabic preposition ila. (ii) Level: segment; Category: orthography/phonology; Feature: Hebrew-influenced orthography (13-6). The spelling ‰ÏÚ with a word-final he to mark the vowel /a/ is probably in imitation of Hebrew orthography, and the final alef in ‡ÏÚ probably represents the influence of the orthography of the Babylonian Talmud, as part of the Hebraized orthography tradition of Judeo-Arabic,3 2 and should therefore be considered literal. (4) ¯˘‡ > È≤χ (i) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: pronouns; Feature: relative pronouns (6-3). The Judeo-Arabic relative pronoun È≤χ is commonly used throughout the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ to modify all nouns, regardless of their gender and number. This is an indication of literal translation, since it accords with the rules of Hebrew syntax. (5) ÍÂÚ„È > ¬Â¥¯Ú/¬ÂÙ¯ÚÈ/¬Â¥¯ÚÈ (i) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: TMA; Feature: tense/aspect (9-1). Judeo-Arabic ¬ÂÙ¯ÚÈ/¬Â¥¯ÚÈ ‘know you’ translates Hebrew ÍÂÚ„È in a literal way, since the same tense/aspect (imperfect) is 32

See Hary 1996c:732, 1999a:77–79, and 2009.

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CHAPTER THREE used in both. However, the translation ¬Â¥¯Ú is interpretive, since it makes use of the perfect tense/aspect, whereas Hebrew uses the imperfect form. The latter also represents a possible hypocorrection that has been standardized in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic.3 3 (ii) Level: segment; Category: orthography/phonology; Feature: diacritic marks (13-5). On the one hand, the spelling of Ù without the supralinear dot in ¬ÂÙ¯ÚÈ may represent a literal tendency, as it could be an imitation of the Hebrew letter fe (Ù). On the other hand, the spelling of ¥ with a supralinear dot in ¬Â¥¯Ú/¬Â¥¯ÚÈ represents the fricative pronunciation of [f] rather than the stop [p], so it could denote the interpretive tendency, as this is part of the orthographic tradition of standard Arabic, indicating the få< with a supralinear dot (·) (see chapter 9, p. 311, 13-5.3). (6) ˙ÂÎÏÓÓ ÏÚ > ÔÈˇψ χ ‰ÏÚÂ/ÔÈˇψ ‰ÏÚ (i) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: definiteness; Features: adding the definite article when needed (9-1), and deleting the definite article when not needed (9-4). In ÔÈˇψ χ ‰ÏÚ ‘upon the kingdoms,’ the ¡ar˙an added the definite article in the JudeoArabic text in order to conform to Arabic structure, even though the definite article is lacking in the Hebrew text. This represents the interpretive side of the scale (9-1). On the other hand, in ÔÈˇψ ‰ÏÚ the translation is verbatim, as the definite article is absent both in the Hebrew and the Judeo-Arabic text, although it is required by Arabic grammar (9-4). The ¡ar˙an’s translation in this case follows the Hebrew text slavishly. (7) ˙ÂÎÏÓÓ > ‰Ëψ/ÔÈˇψ (i) Level: word; Category: lexicon; Feature: word choice (semantic considerations) (3-1). The choice of ÔÈˇψ ‘sultans’ represents the interpretive tendency, since Hebrew ˙ÂÎÏÓÓ ‘kingdoms’ does 33

See chapter 4, pp. 126–27, 3.3.3; chapter 5, pp. 141–43; and chapter 8, pp. 215–17, 4-2.1; as well as Hary 1992:294–95 and 314.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC not mean the rulers themselves. On the other hand, the choice of ‰Ëψ ‘sultanate, kingdom’ represents a literal translation. (ii) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: number and gender; Feature: number: plural (10-2). The choice of the singular ‰Ëψ ‘sultanate, kingdom’ represents the interpretive tendency, since the Hebrew ˙ÂÎÏÓÓ ‘kingdoms’ is in the plural form. (iii)Level: segment; Category: orthography/phonology; Feature: emphatization and deemphatization (13-2). The regressive partial assimilation (emphatization) /s/ > [ß] in ‰Ëψ/ÔÈˇψ, triggered by /†/, represents an interpretive tendency. (8) ÍÓ˘· > ¬ÓÒ‡·/¬ÓÒ‡ È¥ (i) Level: morphosyntactic; Category: prepositions/particles; Feature: prepositions (5-1). The choice of the Judeo-Arabic preposition bi represents the literal tendency, since it slavishly copies the Hebrew preposition ·, but the choice of the JudeoArabic preposition f• is interpretive wherever it better fits Arabic prepositional use. (9) ‡¯˜ > ‰„ (i) Level: word; Category: lexicon; Feature: root choice (semantic considerations) (3-1). The choice of the Judeo-Arabic root ‰„ is taken from colloquial Egyptian Arabic, pointing to an interpretive mode. (10) ‡¯˜ ‡Ï ÍÓ˘· > ¬ÓÒ‡ È¥ ‰„ ÌÏ/‰„ ÌÏ ¬ÓÒ‡· (i) Level: phrase; Feature: word-for-word translation (1-1). This sentence represents another good example of the literal/ interpretive linguistic tension. The sentence ‰„ ÌÏ ¬ÓÒ‡· ‘they did not call your name’ is a verbatim translation of ‡¯˜ ‡Ï ÍÓ˘·, and the word order is the same in both languages. But in the translation ¬ÓÒ‡ È¥ ‰„ ÌÏ the Judeo-Arabic word order is different and was chosen to accommodate its structure: this translation thus leans toward the interpretive side of the scale.

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CHAPTER THREE To conclude, the sentence analyzed above from head to toe reveals a complex literal/interpretive linguistic tension, in which the components move back and forth along the continuum in a multidimensional manner according to various linguistic levels, categories, and features. Table 4 below illustrates these levels, categories, and features, which form the basis of a linguistic model for analyzing the literal/interpretive linguistic tension, as demonstrated in great detail in part 2 of this study, using examples from various Egyptian Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙.

80

192–98 199–200

2-2 Adverbs 2-3 Numerals

Negation

Prepositions/Particles

Pronouns

Verb Conjugation

4

5

6

7

Morphosyntactic

Lexicon

3

Word

200–205

244–48 248–50

6-4 Demonstrative pronouns 6-5 Interrogative pronouns and particles 7-2 Finite verbs

256

250–56

240–44

6-3 Relative pronouns

7-1 Infinitives

238–40

6-2 Pronominal suffixes

234–37

5-3 Conditional particles

237–38

231–34

5-2 Coordinating particles and conjunctions 6-1 Independent personal pronouns

219–31

215–19

4-2 Verbal 5-1 Prepositions

213–15

4-1 Nominal

3-2 Word (or root) choice: considerations of sound/appearance 205–12

3-1 Word (or root) choice: semantic considerations

188–92

2-1 Syntactic adaptation

Word Order

2

183–88

1-1 Word-for-word translation

1

Analysis on pp.

Phrase

Feature

Category

Level

THE LINGUISTIC MODEL OF THE ANALYSIS OF THE ¡UR¥˙

THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC

81

82

Numerals

12

13

TMA

11

305–6 306 307–10 310–11 311–27

13-3 Elision 13-4 Orthographic marking of the glides 13-5 Diacritic marks 13-6 Hebrew-influenced orthography

304

13-2 Emphatization and deemphatization

Orthography/Phonology 13-1 Assimilation

299–302

295–98

11-3 Voice: passive 12-1 With counted nouns

293–95

11-2 Mood

280–87

10-3 Gender

287–93

274–80

10-2 Number: plural 11-1 Tense/Aspect

274

10-1 Number: dual

272–73

9-4 Deleting the definite article where not needed

Agreement

271–72

9-3 Deleting the definite article where needed

10

270–71

9-2 Adding the definite article where not needed

Definiteness

9

266–70

264–65

8-2 Directional 9-1 Adding the definite article where needed

257–64

8-1 Accusative

Cases

8

Analysis on pp.

Feature

Category

Table 4. The linguistic model of the analysis of the ¡ur¥˙

Segment

Level

CHAPTER THREE

THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC The Translation Continuum A translation as a whole can also be placed on a theoretical literal/ interpretive continuum (see figure 9). In a given aspect, a certain translation may be more literal or more interpretive than another. For example, the translation of names within a literal tradition can be placed on a continuum from more to less literal:3 4 (i) There are biblical names that are copied into the Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙ unchanged in a clear literal translation: χÏÏ‰Ó (15 0-1,1) ‘Mahalalel’; „¯È (15 0-1,2) ‘Jared’; ÍÂÁ (15 0-1,3) ‘Enoch’; ÁÏ˘Â˙Ó (15 0-1,6) ‘Metushelah’; ÍÓÏ (15 0-1,10) ‘Lemech’; ÁÂ (15 0-1,10) ‘Noah’; Ì˘ (15 0-1,17) ‘Shem’; ÌÁ (15 0-1,18) ‘Ham’; ˙ÙÈ (15 0-1,18) ‘Jephet’; ¯ÂÁ (15 2b,8) ‘Nahor’; ‰˜·¯ (15 2b,15) ‘Rebecca’; χÂ˙· (15 2b,16) ‘Bethuel’; ‰ÎÏÓ (15 2b,16) ‘Milcah’; ̉¯·‡ (15 2b,16) ‘Abraham’; ‰¯Â˘ (15 4b,11) ‘Keturah’; ‡·˘ (15 4b,13) ‘Sheba’; ¯¥Ú (15 4b,15) ‘Epher’; Ú„È·‡ (15 4b,15) ‘Abida’; ‰Ú„χ (15 4b,15) ‘Eldaah.’ These names appear in the translation in their original form, although the ¡ar˙an could have changed some of the spellings to reflect the Judeo-Arabic phonetics, as was done elsewhere in a more interpretive translation (see below). (ii) Further along the continuum toward the interpretive side is the translation of the Hebrew name of (possibly) the Hittites ˙ÕÁ (Gen 23:16). It is translated into Judeo-Arabic ˙ÈÁ (15 2a,4), with a spelling that is not identical. Here the ¡ar˙an made sure that the short /e/ vowel in the Hebrew name ˙ÕÁ was expressed in the Judeo-Arabic translation by adding the yod.3 5 A similar example is ÌÈȯ‰ ̇¯‡ (15 2b,7) ‘Aram-Naharaim,’ where the Judeo-Arabic

34

For a more exhaustive treatment of this issue, see chapter 9, pp. 320–27, 13-6.8. 35 Although the representation of short /i/ or /e/ in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic is not as common as the representation of short /u/ (Hary 1992:249, 2.1.2), it is quite prevalent in later Egyptian ¡ur¥˙ (David 2005:73, 2.1.3) as well as in the orthography of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Judeo-Arabic letters from the Geniza (Wagner 2007:68).

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CHAPTER THREE spelling is not identical to the Hebrew, probably due to phonetic issues, such as a possible long /å/ pronounced in ̇¯‡ and a possible /u/ in ÌÈȯ‰. Vowel lengthening /a/ > /å/ may also explain the alef in Ô‡¯ÓÊ (15 4b,12) ‘Zimran,’ Ô‡˘˜È (15 4b,12) ‘Yokshan,’ and more.3 6 The consonant /w/ is expressed in the personal name Á¢ (15 4b,13) /¡uwa˙/ ‘Shua˙’ by writing two vavs. (iii)Moving still further along the continuum, the following examples are found: ı¥¯Î /karfaß/ (74 21,2) ‘Karpas’ (greens for the Passover Seder), ¯∂Ú Èχ /<eli>eΩer/ (93, 15,9) ‘Eliezer,’ and ‰È¯∂Ú />aΩarya/ (93 15,9) ‘Azarya.’ Here a Hebrew common noun and two Hebrew personal names were copied into the Judeo-Arabic translation, but with a phonetic modification. The spellings suggest Judeo-Arabic emphatization of /s/ > [ß] and /z/ > [Ω]3 7 respectively, an indication of a slightly more interpretive translation. (iv)The translation of the name of the cave ‰ÏÙÎÓ‰ ‘the Machpela’ into Judeo-Arabic ‰È˙Ó Ï‡ (15 2a,9), literally ‘the doubled,’ although clearly a case where the ¡ar˙an chose a literal translation, is still less literal than the previous example. Indeed, the ¡ar˙an translated the Hebrew root k-f-l ‘double’ verbatim into Judeo-Arabic t-n-y ‘double,’ and also copied the Hebrew locative initial mem into Judeo-Arabic locative m•m, even though he did not use the same root in the Judeo-Arabic translation. (v) Much closer toward the less literal side of the continuum, one finds the translation of the biblical Hebrew place name ‡¯ÓÓ ‘Mamre’ (Gen 23:17). In the ¡ar˙ its translation is ‚¯Ó (15 2ba,6) ‘meadow.’ This is the ¡ar˙an’s attempt to describe a place with a field and vegetation. The various examples, organized in the above groups, are reflected in figure 9:

36 37

See chapter 4, p. 102, 1.1.5, and chapter 5, pp. 148–49, 1.1. See also chapter 5, p. 149, 1.4.2 and p. 150, 1.4.3.

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC

Least Literal

(v)

(iv)

(iii)

(ii)

(i) Most Literal

Figure 9. The less literal/more literal continuum

The usefulness of the continuum can be observed in the following examples: (i) Whereas ˙¯ƒÁ È¥ (15 2a,4) ‘in the presence of,’ which translates Èʇ· ‘in the hearing of’ (Gen 23:16), is a clear interpretation of the Hebrew, ˙¯ƒÁÏ (15 2a,7) ‘in the presence of’ is less obvious. The latter translates ÈÈÚÏ ‘in the eyes of’ (Gen 23:18), and is still interpretive, but less so than the previous example, as it is closer to the Hebrew meaning (see chapter 7, pp. 203–4, 3-1.12). (ii) Despite the fact that ı‡¯ /r¢åß/ (91 2b,10) ‘head’ and ı¯Á‡ /u˙r¢uß/ (15 2a,19) ‘beware’ are literal translations of Hebrew ˘‡¯ and ¯Ó˘‰ respectively, the Judeo-Arabic spellings, with the emphatic [ß], are examples of Judeo-Arabic assimilation in the environment of emphatic [r¢], and so indicative of a more interpretive translation. The Work of the ¡ar˙an The detailed theoretical framework laid out here provides for the analysis of the linguistic features in the ¡ar˙. In the course of defining this framework, I attempt to understand how the ¡ar˙an undertook the translations of the Hebrew or Aramaic text. I assume that he was in possession of the original Hebrew or Aramaic text, or at least that he was competent in the text. The ¡ar˙anim of that period memorized the Bible and other sacred texts, so that even if they did not have the actual text in front of them, they remembered it as if it were. The ¡ar˙an quite likely intended to make a literal translation. In other words, he would attempt to find a Judeo-Arabic equivalent for every Hebrew or Aramaic word. Although throughout the ¡ar˙ both literal and interpretive tendencies are seen at each level of the translation, the

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CHAPTER THREE literal tendency seems to have dominated, since it is more frequently encountered than the interpretive tendency. Furthermore, a literal translation gave rise to “un-Arabic” sentences, which could not have existed in the ¡ar˙ if the guiding principle had been interpretive. In Saadia’s tafs•r, the guiding principle was interpretive, and indeed such “un-Arabic” sentences are not to be found there. In fact Saadia’s tafs•r obeyed, for the most part, the rules of Classical Arabic. In other words, the ¡ar˙an intended to translate the text verbatim, for the various reasons enumerated above (pp. 53–54, 58–59, 61–63). However, the ¡ar˙ includes nonverbatim traces as well. How did these traces find their way into the ¡ar˙ if they were in conflict with the guiding principle of verbatim translation? Was there a separate mechanism that enabled these interpretive traces to find their way into the final product, the ¡ar˙? What happened on the way from the original Hebrew/Aramaic input to the moment the ¡ar˙an wrote down the Judeo-Arabic output of the ¡ar˙? Figure 10 illustrates these questions:

input (original text)

?!

output (the ¡ar˙)

Figure 10. What happens in the process of translation?

Two kinds of mechanisms are assumed to operate inside the rectangle (figure 11). Mechanism A represents the guiding principle of verbatim translation, according to which a ¡ar˙an put a Judeo-Arabic equivalent in place of each Hebrew or Aramaic component. This is the way the ¡ar˙an intended to render the text. In other words, Mechanism A is a deliberate process. Its output, an “intermediate product” (IP), is not 86

THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC attested regularly; however, it can be assumed that it would be a rather complete literal translation with many “un-Arabic” sentences and structures that would make comprehension difficult, if not impossible. Mechanism B then takes the IP and allows the interpretive tendencies to find their way in. Mechanism B manipulates the text by way of change, addition, and deletion,3 8 in order to facilitate comprehension. The end result is a complex output, the ¡ar˙, which contains a mixture of both literal and interpretive traces. Figure 11 illustrates these mechanisms:

* IP

Mechanism B

Mechanism A

input (original text)

output (the ¡ar˙)

Figure 11. The ¡ar˙an’s work

We may safely assume that a ¡ar˙an was more aware of using Mechanism A than Mechanism B. Furthermore, it could even be supposed that he may have been unaware of the existence of Mechanism B, and that he was in fact convinced that he did indeed translate the text verbatim. We may also assume that a ¡ar˙an would have used a different linguistic competence for each of the mechanisms. For Mechanism A he would find an equivalent for the Hebrew component in his store of Judeo-Arabic linguistic knowledge. For Mechanism B he would use his knowledge of other linguistic traditions, such as standard Arabic, colloquial Arabic, or the language of previous translations, such as those of Saadia (Classical Judeo-Arabic) or Onqelos

38

Tedghi mentions “broadening,” “narrowing,” and “free translation” (1994: 96–100).

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CHAPTER THREE (Aramaic). Moreover, it may well have been the case that translators/interpreters had not just the Hebrew text in front of them, but also Saadia’s translation, either in a physical copy or in their mind, since that text was so authoritative. But translators may also have consciously discarded Saadia’s translation, and yet unconsciously consulted it occasionally in order to resolve translation difficulties. Some, of course, may have lost their knowledge of Saadia’s translation altogether. Furthermore, many translators may have realized that a totally verbatim translation was impossible, and therefore considered the use of calculated compromises in the interests of intelligibility and readability. As mentioned above, the IP is not attested regularly, since the end product usually includes Mechanism B. However, a good illustration of an IP and the process of the ¡ar˙an’s work can be shown in two different translations of a clause from the Haggadah, Ú„ÂÈ Âȇ˘ „Á‡Â χ˘Ï ‘and the one who does not know how to ask.’ In ms. 93 16,7 the ¡ar˙an translated this sentence as χÒÈÏ ¥¯ÚÈ ÂÒÈÏ È≤χ „Á‡ÂÂ. This is a verbatim translation which would have sounded strange to native speakers of Arabic for a number of reasons. First, the translation’s word order strictly follows the Hebrew original. Second, ÂÒÈÏ is a hybrid form of the negative particle /lays/ and the third pronominal suffix /-o/, in imitation of the Hebrew negative Ôȇ and the third pronominal suffix Â≠. Finally, χÒÈÏ translates the Hebrew infinitive construct χ˘Ï with the Arabic particle /li/, which is phonetically equivalent to the Hebrew preposition Ï, although in Arabic the particle /an/ would have been expected. It seems that the source text Âȇ˘ „Á‡Â χ˘Ï Ú„ÂÈ went through Mechanism A (figure 11) to result in a possible IP of χÒÈÏ ¥¯ÚÈ ÂÒÈÏ È≤χ „Á‡ÂÂ. This IP then went through Mechanism B, which did not produce any change. Had Mechanism B caused any changes, interpretive traces would have been detected in the output. Thus, we assume that in this case the IP was the same as the final output (the ¡ar˙).

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THE TRANSLATION OF SACRED TEXTS INTO JUDEO-ARABIC Ms. 3 4,10, however, offers a different translation of the same Hebrew clause: χÒÈ ˘¥¯ÚÈ ‡Ó „Á‡Â ‘and the one who does not know how to ask.’ Clearly, this translation leans more toward the interpretive side of the scale and is formulated in standard Egyptian Judeo-Arabic. As in the first translation, the Hebrew clause χ˘Ï Ú„ÂÈ Âȇ˘ „Á‡Â went through Mechanism A to produce an IP, perhaps ¥¯ÚÈ ÂÒÈÏ È≤χ „Á‡Â χÒÈÏ as in the previous example. In the example in ms. 3, however, Mechanism B did cause the ¡ar˙an to employ his linguistic knowledge of colloquial Egyptian Arabic to arrive at the output ˘¥¯ÚÈ ‡Ó „Á‡Â χÒÈ, which indeed includes several features of colloquial Egyptian Arabic: the negative /ma -¡/, as in [majI?rafS] ‘does not know,’ and the asyndetic clauses [w¶wa:©Idma] ‘the one who does not’ and [jI?rafSjIsal] ‘does not know how to ask.’ To conclude, both translations of χ˘Ï Ú„ÂÈ Âȇ˘ „Á‡Â would appear to result in the same IP after going through Mechanism A. We assume that the difference between the two translations is the result of Mechanism B. In the first example, χÒÈÏ ¥¯ÚÈ ÂÒÈÏ È≤χ „Á‡ÂÂ, Mechanism B does not operate and therefore the IP and the output are the same. In the second example, χÒÈ ˘¥¯ÚÈ ‡Ó „Á‡ÂÂ, however, Mechanism B does operate, and therefore the output is different than the IP. The main manipulations that Mechanism B performs on the IP in the second example are the following: omission of the relative pronoun È≤χ, adaptation of ¥¯ÚÈ ÂÒÈÏ to the Judeo-Arabic negation, and use of the asyndetic clause χÒÈ ˘¥¯ÚÈ. Since a number of different ¡ar˙anim each composed ¡ur¥˙, many different manuscripts of the same text may exist. When two different versions of a translation from two different manuscripts are compared and analyzed, as is the case here with the versions from mss. 3 and 93, we do not necessarily assume that one and the same ¡ar˙an composed them, although we do consider it likely that they are copies of one earlier prototype ¡ar˙. However, it certainly may also be the case that two manuscript versions of a text were written by two different ¡ar˙anim. How, then, can the same analysis be assigned to 89

CHAPTER THREE both? In fact, even if the ¡ur¥˙ in question were composed by two or more different ¡ar˙anim, they can still be analyzed as texts that share a tradition of translation. It is probable that the tradition of the ¡ar˙ was unified, at least in Egypt, if not elsewhere. Consequently, the same analysis, using the two mechanisms A and B, can be assigned to examples from different manuscripts. Throughout this study, I assume the existence of such a tradition of translation and analyze examples from various Egyptian Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙ accordingly.3 9 To summarize, Mechanism A and Mechanism B scan the text differently and use different working methods. Mechanism A scans the text horizontally, i.e., word by word, and for each Hebrew word substitutes a Judeo-Arabic equivalent to produce the IP. Mechanism B then scans the latter from head to toe all the way from the phrase level through the word level and the morphosyntactic level, down to the segment level, while performing interpretive manipulations where needed. Part 2 of this book illustrates these mechanisms in detail.

39

See p. 75 above, including n. 27, and chapter 6, p. 165.

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CHAPTER FOUR SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC: THE EVIDENCE FROM THE ¡arh¢ TEXTS This chapter introduces the methodological considerations for reconstructing the spoken Judeo-Arabic variety used by Egyptian Jews, as extracted from the texts of the ¡ur¥˙. It examines the various linguistic levels in the texts, emphasizes the connection between the orthography and phonetics/ phonology, including its limitations, and points out similar orthographical trends in today’s published modern Egyptian dialect. It then analyzes selected characteristics of dialectal features of spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic in phonetics and phonology, morphology, syntax, and the lexicon. The chapter concludes with a summary which highlights the characteristics of spoken Egyptian JudeoArabic, as reflected in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙, that set it apart from spoken Egyptian Arabic used by Christians and Muslims.1 Spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic — An Introduction Nada Tomiche was the first to document Egyptian Jewish speech. In 1968 she highlighted several features in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic speech, distinguishing them from the Christian and Muslims dialects in phonetics, morphology, and lexicon. Haim Blanc followed suit, laying the foundation for research on Egyptian Judeo-Arabic in three important 1

It is likely that most of the data presented here refer to the religiolect spoken in Cairo by Jews in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. However, it is also probable that Jews in Alexandria and elsewhere had similar linguistic traits (see Tomiche 1968:1179–80; Rosenbaum 2002c:118). I use “Egyptian” and “Cairene” Judeo-Arabic interchangeably to refer to these features.

CHAPTER FOUR articles (1974, 1981, 1985). In 1979, despite the limited data collected on the speech of Egyptian Jews, Blanc argued that the dialect spoken by Cairene Jews was not distinct from the dialect spoken by Christian and Muslims, as opposed to spoken Baghdadi Judeo-Arabic, which was distinct in many ways from Christian and Muslims Baghdadi dialect (Rabin et al. 1979:49–52). 2 With the recordings of contemporary Egyptian Jews conducted by Gabriel Rosenbaum and the collection and publication of Egyptian Judeo-Arabic material, including ¡ur¥˙, done by me (Hary 1992, 2009), there are now ample data to trace the development of spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic from the sixteenth century until today. These data have confirmed several of Tomiche’s discoveries and all of Blanc’s findings about the dialect, which in 1974 he termed “non-standard Cairene.” Moreover, Rosenbaum (2002b, 2002c)3 has identified new dialectal features of Egyptian Judeo-Arabic, a process that is continued in this chapter. Rosenbaum has rightly asserted that had Blanc seen the new materials, he would have been convinced that the term “Egyptian Judeo-Arabic” was justified (2002c:118).

2

3

Likewise, S. Morag (Rabin et al. 1979:53) has claimed that modern Egyptian Judeo-Arabic does not include any independent linguistic features. Rosenbaum (2002c:118) has claimed that in Egypt the Christians (Copts) and the Muslims speak the same variety. Recent research on religiolects (chapter 1 of this volume; Benor 2008; Hary and Wein 2008) has not supported this claim. There are simply not enough data available. Had there been systematic recordings of Christians and Muslims, using corpus linguistics methodology, and had there been a comprehensive analysis of Egyptian Christian and Muslim texts from the premodern eras, both of these varieties would have been identified as distinct to some degree. Moreover, Tomiche (1968:1180) has alluded to this issue by noting that “[d]ans sa phonétique, il se caractérise par une absence de vélarisation qui contraste avec les dialectes des Musulmans, mais qui le rapproche du language des Coptes.”

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC Methodology The texts of the ¡ur¥˙ contain several levels and elements, including those of colloquial speech. Through a careful examination of the texts, these elements can be extracted in order to reconstruct, at least in part, the dialect used by Egyptian Jews during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the period of the composition of the ¡ur¥˙. The texts of Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙ include a mixture of several layers:4 (i) Classical and post-Classical Arabic; (ii) Pseudocorrections; (iii) Standardized pseudocorrections; (iv) Verbatim or direct translations from Hebrew and Aramaic into Judeo-Arabic; (v) Traces from earlier translations of sacred texts, especially that of Saadia Gaon; and (vi) Dialectal components. The tracing of the dialect, then, can be conducted by isolating elements (i) through (v), thereby allowing elements of the spoken dialect (vi) to surface. The findings should then be compared with the modern dialects,5 as well as with documentation from premodern Cairene Arabic, to confirm the evidence. This comparison, of course, has to be done carefully and meticulously to avoid the many complications that may arise. For example, standardized pseudocorrection phenomena (element [iii] above) may pose a special difficulty. It is not easy to discern whether standardized pseudocorrections have become part of the dialect or have just been standardized in the written texts and become productive in them. In order to exemplify this methodology, consider the following sentence: ÔÈÚ Ï‡ ˙ÏÊ ‡‰¥¯Ú ÌÏ Ï‚‡¯Â ‰È¯Î· Ș ¯∂Ó Ï‡ ˙ÒÂÁ ‰È·ˆ χ ˙ÚÏË ‡‰˙¯‚ ˙ÏÓ (15 2b,17–18) ‘and the girl (was) very good looking, a virgin, and no man had known her. She went down to the spring, 4 5

See Blau 1991 for the different layers in Classical Judeo-Arabic. See Blau in Rabin et al. 1979:47–48 for a similar discussion.

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CHAPTER FOUR filled her jar, and came up,’ which is the translation of ‰‡¯Ó ˙·›Ë ‰¯Ú‰Â ÏÚ˙ ‰„Î ‡ÏÓ˙ ‰ÈÚ‰ „¯˙ ‰Ú„È ‡Ï ˘È‡Â ‰ÏÂ˙· „›‡Ó (Gen 24:16). In this translation Classical and post-Classical components (element [i] above) are clear: the i∂åfa \ayr ˙aq•qiyya in /˙usnat al-manΩar/ ‘good looking’ and the use of Judeo-Arabic perfect verbs. The latter does not constitute a verbatim translation, since the Hebrew uses the imperfect followed by the vav consecutive. The verbatim translation elements (element [iv] above), on the other hand, are also evident: lack of /wa-kånat/ ‘and (she) was’ at the beginning of the sentence in the ¡ar˙, in order to mirror the Hebrew; lack of vav conjunctive before ‰È¯Î· ‘virgin,’ again, to meticulously copy the Hebrew; the use of the Judeo-Arabic noun ÔÈÚ ‘spring’ to imitate the Hebrew ÔÈÚ, as other Arabic nouns could have been chosen; and more. It is also possible that the choice of ÔÈÚ ‘spring’ may have been indirectly influenced by Saadia’s translation (element [v] above), which was so prevalent among Arabic-speaking Jews. Furthermore, the choice of ¯∂Ó Ï‡ ˙ÒÂÁ ‘good looking’ by the ¡ar˙an may also be connected to the influence of Saadia’s work. The use of /lam/ before the perfect verb in ‡‰¥¯Ú ÌÏ ‘(he) did not know her’ may reveal a standardized pseudocorrection (element [iii] above), which became part of Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect. As a pseudocorrection becomes prevalent in a variety—spoken or written—it reaches a point where it ceases to be a pseudocorrection and becomes an accepted form of the variety. It thus becomes standardized and productive. In Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic in general, and in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ in particular, there are countless examples where the negative particle /lam/ is followed by the perfect: ÏÒ¯ ÌÏ (15 27a,16) ‘(he) did not send’; ˙˙‡‚ ÌÏ (1302 2a,3) ‘(she) did not come’ (p. 120, 2.2.5.1.2); ‰·¯˜ ÌÏ (3 16,20) ‘(he) did not bring us near’ (chapter 8, pp. 215–17, 4-2.1, pp. 293–95, 11-2). These and other examples may stem from hypocorrected forms6 that have been 6

For a detailed discussion of hypocorrections, hypercorrections, and other phenomena of pseudocorrections, see Blau 1970:12–15; Hary 2007.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC standardized in the variety and become productive. In the dialect, the regularly used particle to negate the past is /ma/. The writer does not choose the latter construction because it is an unmarked form, dominant in the dialect, and thus not prestigious. Instead, he chooses the prestigious marked Classical Arabic negation particle /lam/. The writer, however, “corrects” the construction only halfway: although he changes the negative particle /ma/ to /lam/, he does not change the perfect form following it to the jussive, as required by Classical Arabic. This example follows the criteria for hypocorrections (Hary 2007:277–78). However, because these forms have been regularly used in Later Egyptian JudeoArabic, they have been standardized in writing, as evident in various manuscripts from that period, and have become productive. The question remains, however, whether the use of /lam/ followed by the perfect has become part of the spoken dialect. Rosenbaum has argued (2002a) that it has, producing evidence for its existence in the dialect. He has noted that “the negative particle lam in colloquial Arabic texts derives from the negative particle lam in common use in standard Arabic” and commented that it “is also possible that they are the result of pseudo-corrections which became productive” (ibid., 591), but he has not supplied the above-mentioned analysis in detail. Wagner, who has traced the development of the language used in eleventh- to nineteenth-century Judeo-Arabic letters from the Cairo Geniza, disagreed, claiming that the use of /lam/ in late Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect “is a very unlikely scenario” (2007:177). Arnold, on the other hand, has reported on the use of /lam/ in the spoken Arabic of the Jews of Iskenderoun in the northeastern Mediterranean and speculates that it comes from the combination of /lå/ and /må/ (2006–2007:11), and not necessarily from Classical Arabic /lam/. To conclude, the standardized and productive use of /lam/ as a negative particle in Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙ may reflect living usage and may be part of the dialect of the Jews in Egypt, although this has not been fully proven (see also chapter 5, pp. 141–43).

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CHAPTER FOUR To return to the example presented on pp. 93–94, after the isolation of the above elements, several characteristics that are part of the spoken dialect remain: the Egyptian adverb /•d was published in 1994 and —uÞ Áœ p?¹b!« /id-d•k da †ør/ This Rooster Is an Ox by °mån Bakr• as recently as 2007.8 In such books the glottal stop that clearly shifted from the uvular stop /q/ is spelled with an Arabic qåf, reflecting standard Arabic spelling and not dialectal pronunciation, along the lines of a similar orthographic practice used in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic. 7 8

See Grotzfeld 1967; Hary 1992:263. Bird’s Milk is the literal translation; the idiomatic translation is That’s Impossible. See also Rosenbaum (2008:391): “One of the significant results of this activity is the publication of several prose texts written completely in the colloquial, thus eliminating the traditional stylistic distinction between narration and dialogue.” Furthermore, in n. 3 he has provided a list of additional novels. Since then, in addition to Bakr•’s novel, the following were also published in Cairo: ‰“UÐ /båzil/ Puzzle by Óusayn >Abd al->Al•m in 2005, and “u??&« …e?¹U??Ž />åyza atgawwez/ I’d Like to Get Married by |åda >Abd al->Ål in 2007.

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CHAPTER FOUR (ii) The spelling of ˘‡ (3 2,8) ‘what,’ which, surprisingly enough, appears more than twenty times in ms. 3 of the Passover Haggadah from the Cairo Collection and several times in ms. 91,9 may indicate that this interrogative pronoun was pronounced with a short /e/ (/e¡/), another variant of ˘È‡ /∑¡/. There is, however, no confirmation for this pronunciation in any other source.1 0 The same orthographical analysis applies to ˘Ï (3 23,10) and ˘ÈÏ /l∑¡/ (15 3a,17; 5b,4; and more) ‘why.’ Lacking any other supporting evidence, it is safe to assume that the vowel in these interrogative pronouns is indeed long /∑¡/ and /l∑¡/ and that the spelling is simply defectiva.1 1 (iii)Although there is ample evidence in the orthography of Late JudeoArabic in general and Late Egyptian Judeo-Arabic in particular for the appearance of an alef where a short /a/ is expected, it is not a solid proof for the lengthening of /a/ into [å]. This spelling usually occurs in one-syllable words:1 2 ȇ˘1 3 /¡ay/ (93 1,2) ‘thing’; Ô‡Ú />an/ (93 2,11; 11,18a) ‘about’; χ¡ /xall/ (74 21,2) ‘vinegar’; ˇ˘ /¡a††/ (91 3a,1) ‘shore’; È‡Ê /zayy/ (91 2b,8) ‘like.’1 4 Interestingly, Khan has considered this alef to mark the long vowel /å/: “This spelling reflects, indeed, the fact that in these words the vowel is lengthened in the spoken language” (1991:226, my translation). However, it has not been proven that the vowel had shifted to

9

In mss. 15, 1302, 74, and 93 the spelling is always with a yod, ˘È‡ /∑¡/, indicating a long vowel. See the reference to these manuscripts in the introduction to this volume. 10 Tomiche 1968:1180; Blanc 1974:216; Rosenbaum 2002c:126. See also pp. 114–15, 2.1.6.1. 11 See the scriptio defectiva described in Wagner 2007:76 for ‰Ù /f•h/ ‘in it.’ 12 See also Hary 1992:249, 2.1.3; 1994b:377; Khan 1991:226, although Wagner (2007:70) has cited several examples of multisyllabic words: ‰¯‡Ó ‘time,’ ‡‰˙·‡˙Î ‘I wrote to her.’ 13 For a similar spelling in Tunisian Judeo-Arabic, see Doron 1995:134. 14 ̇Π/kåm/ (91 7a,17; 8a,5; 93 31,14; 37,14) ‘how much’ is probably long, as is the case in standard Egyptian Arabic, although there is also a variant with a short vowel /kam/.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC become long, because there is no supporting evidence for this phenomenon elsewhere. This issue then demonstrates that the orthography cannot be used as the only tool to trace the dialect. It is more probable that the alef was added to “create” a longer word, as a word with only two letters may have seemed too short to the ¡ar˙ånim. In sum, these three cases demonstrate the need to consider the orthography cautiously and not as a solid proof for phonetic or phonological structure. Therefore, in this chapter, if the orthography is not supported by additional evidence, then it is not taken as proof of a phonetic or phonological feature. Below are several notes on the descriptive linguistic analysis of spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic, as extracted from the texts of the ¡ur¥˙, that use the methods outlined above. The examples cited in this chapter are only a small selection from the texts of the ¡ur¥˙; many are not unique to Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect, but are also found in standard Egyptian Arabic. Each example appears in the JudeoArabic orthography, followed by a conjectured transcription when deemed necessary and plausible. Then appears a reference to the manuscript(s) from which it is cited, followed by a translation into English.

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CHAPTER FOUR 1. Phonetics and Phonology 1.1 Vowel shifts 1.1.1 /å/ > [a]: È˙¥ÈÈË /†ayfeti/ (15 3b,9) ‘my family’; ¬˙Èȯ‚ /garyetak/ (74 14,13; 93 67,13) ‘your (masc.) maid.’ 1.1.2 /a/ > [i] or [e]/[E], sometimes as part of imåla process: Ô‡ÚÈ‚ /gi>ån/ (3 2,4; 74 1,1; 93 12,5) ‘hungry’; ÏÈÁÓ /ma˙Ell/ (93 1,8) ‘place’; Â˙ȯ¥Âˆ /ßufrito/ (93 2,14) ‘his table’; ˙ÂˆÓ ˙È˙‡Ï˙ /talåtit maßøt/ (93 11,12) ‘three matzot (unleavened bread).’ 1.1.3 /a/ > [u]: ˙˜Â Ï„ /dulwaåla/ (91 2b,15; 93 16,4) ‘exalt’; ·Ú¢ /¡u>b/ (93 22,9; 22,10) ‘people’; ¯Â¡‡ /åxur/ (15 6b,16 and more; 3 11,12 and more) ‘another’; Ôȯ¡Â‡ /uxr•n/ (91 9b,14; 93 45,5) ‘other (pl.).’1 6 1.1.4 /i/ > [u]: ̇Ê¡ /xuzåm/ (15 3a,5) ‘nose ring’; 1 7 ‰‡È¯ÂÚ />uryåna/ (3 8,15) ‘naked’;1 8 ‰ƒÂ¯ /ru∂a/ (3 21,10) ‘contentment, acceptance.’1 9 Furthermore, note the /u/ in /iryåna/ (ibid., 574). 19 Hinds and Badawi have not recorded the shift in standard colloquial Egyptian Arabic; they wrote /ri∂a/ (1986:340). However, my Egyptian consultants have told me that /ru∂a/ exists in standard Egyptian as well. 20 In standard Cairene / [u] in standard colloquial Egyptian Arabic that also occurs in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect: ϘÂ˙ /tuil/ and Jews prefer /fu>ul/. Furthermore, Jews opt for /xuzåm/ ‘nose ring’ and /¡ubbåk/ ‘window,’ whereas /xizåm/ and /¡ebbåk/ respectively are more common in the standard spoken variety in Cairo. In addition, Jews use the vowel /u/ even in cases where the standard variety calls for /e/ or /i/ or even /a/: />uryåna/ (3 8,15) ‘naked,’

21

See also Khan 1991:226. See 1.1.4.1 below and the examples from Hebrew, /kupp¥r/ ‘Yom Kippur’ and /kutubbå/ ‘marriage contract.’ 23 Already in 1991 Khan (p. 226 n. 10) had noticed this phenomenon, but he did not have the same extensive data that exist today. 22

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CHAPTER FOUR /†u¡t/ ‘washtub,’ and /muxadda/ ‘pillow’2 4 appear in Egyptian JudeoArabic as opposed to />iryåna/, /†i¡t/, and /mexadda/ in the standard variety. Along the same lines, /dulwaåla/ in standard Egyptian. In the Egyptian Judeo-Arabic Haggadah the negation particle ˘ÂÓ /mu¡/ (3 1,4) appears, whereas standard Cairene employs both /mi¡/ and /mu¡/. Rosenbaum (2002b:37) has reported that words taken from Hebrew undergo a similar shift: /kupp¥r/ vs. Hebrew /kipp¥r/ ‘Yom Kippur’ and /kutubbå/ vs. Hebrew /ketubbå/ ‘marriage contract.’ 1.1.5 /a/ > [å] This shift occurs in Hebrew words borrowed into the ¡ar˙ (chapter 5, 1.1): ‰‡ÏË· /ba†alå/ (93 1,6) ‘in vain’; Ô‡ÁÏ¢ /¡ul˙ån/ (74 21,17; 91 10a,11) ‘table,’ and is consistent with Rosenbaum’s finding: /koh∑n/ ‘priest’ and /kohenå/ ‘daughter or wife of a priest’ (2002b:36). This shift also occurs in personal names adopted from the Hebrew: Ô‡¯ÓÊ /zimrån/ (15 4b,12) ‘Zimran’; Ô‡˘˜È /yok¡ån/ (15 4b,12) ‘Yokshan’; Ô‡„Ó /mEdån/ (15 4b,12) ‘Medan’; Ô‡È„Ó /mEdyån/ (15 4b,12) ‘Midian’; ˜‡·˘È /yi¡båq/ (15 4b,13) ‘Yishbak’; Ô‡„„ /dEdån/ (15 4b,14) ‘Dedan.’ The same process occurs in place names: Ô‡˙„ /dotån/ (15 22a,8) ‘Dotan’; ‰˙‡Ó˙ /timnåta/ (15 23a, 15 and 16) ‘to Timnah’ (chapter 7, 3-2.5 and chapter 8, 8-2.1). 1.1.6 /å/ > /a/ preceding />/, /˙/, or /h/: ˙‡Ú¯„ /dira>åt/ (15 37a,9) ‘arms’; Ú˙· /bEta>/ (91 7a,11) and ˙ÈÚ˙· /bEta>et/ (91 8b,2; 10a,12) ‘genitive marker, of (masc., fem.)’; ˙‡‰Ï‡ /ilahåt/ (93 19,2) ‘gods’; ‰Ïȇ /ilah/ (91 9b,7) ‘God’ and ‡‰Ï‡ /ilahna/ (91 9b,10) ‘our God.’ 24

The last two examples are taken from Rosenbaum 2002b:37. Behnstedt and Woidich (1985, 2:178–80) have recognized about forty variants for /dilwaA∂åyma. 26 See above, p. 100, 1.1.3, for a complete reference to these examples. 25

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC This shift occurs regularly in Maghrebi dialects2 7 but is unusual in standard Egyptian dialect.2 8 This feature, then, is an example of migrated or displaced dialectalism, discussed in chapter 1 (pp. 22–23). Sometimes this vowel shortening occurs elsewhere:2 9 ‰ÈÈˈ /wa߆a-niyya/ (74 21,3; 91 11,12) ‘middle’; ˙‡ÒÎ /kasåt/ (74 21,6; 91 11,18) ‘cups’; ÔÈÎÒÓ /masak•n/ (93 12,4) ‘poor (pl.).’ 1.1.7 /i/ or /e/ > [•] or [∑] in words borrowed from the Hebrew: ıÈÓÁ /˙am∑ß/ (93 1,3; 1,6 and more) ‘unleavened’ (chapter 5, p. 149, 1.2). 1.2 The diphthongs The diphthongs contracted to become monophthongs in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect, certainly by the nineteenth century (Blanc 1981:195). 1.2.1 /aw/ > /ø/: ÂÓ˜ / /∑/: Ëȵ /∞∑†/ (15 2a,5) ‘field’; ‡‰ÈÏÚ />al∑ha/ (15 3b,19 and more) ‘on her’; ÔÈ˙‡ /itn∑n/ (15 5b,6) ‘two’; ˙ÈÏÈÏ /l∑lit/ (93 1,1) ‘the night of’; ÒÈÁ /˙∑s/ (93 1,3) ‘since’; ËÈËÚ‡ /a>†∑†/ (91 3a,2) ‘I gave.’ 1.3 The disappearance of the hamza 1.3.1 As is common in Arabic dialects in general, the hamza frequently 27

See Khan 1991:228 (for example, ‰ÚÓ‚ /gama>a/ ‘group’) and the reference there (n. 19). The same occurs in Classical Maghrebi Judeo-Arabic: ÚÓ˙˘‡Ï‡ /al-i¡tima>/ ‘the meeting’ (Blau 1995:23–24). 28 The shortening of this vowel in standard Egyptian can occur when /bEtå>/ appears before an element that begins with a consonant, such as in /bta>kullo/ ‘know-all,’ although the variant /btå>kullo/, with the long vowel /å/, also exists. 29 There is, of course, the possibility that this is only a spelling variation, not indicating a change in the phonetics.

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CHAPTER FOUR disappears: ÔÏȇ˜ /qåylan/ (15 0-1,13 and more) ‘saying’; ‰¯Ó /mara/ (15 2a,17) ‘wife’; ¯È· /b•r/ (15 22a,14) ‘well’; Ô‡„Ó /madån/ (1302 2a,1) ‘nations’ (madå /madån/).3 0 This shift is clearer in ˙ËÈÁ ¬Á·„Ó /˙∑†at madba˙ak/ (3 21,10) ‘the wall of your altar,’ where the shift /å /∑/, including the disappearance of the hamza, is evident. 1.3.2 The disappearance of the hamza is seen in the orthography of the alif mamd¥da and vowel shortening, /å /a/, either by spelling with a he: ‰Ò¯ /ruasa/ (1302 1b,16) ‘officials, leaders’; ‰Ó‰Â¥ /fuhama/ (3 3,5) ‘wise people’; ‰„˙·‡ /ibtida/ (3 5,17) ‘beginning’; ‰ÓÒ /sama/ (3 24,6) ‘heavens’; ‰Ë·ÂÚ />uba†a/ (3 24,16) ‘imbecile (pl.)’; or with an alef: ‡¯Ê /wuzara/ (1302 1b,5) ‘ministers, nobles’; ‡Ò‡Â¯ /ruasa/ (1302 1b,5 and many other occurrences) ‘officials, leaders’; ‡µ /\ena/ (1302 1b,6) ‘wealth’; ‡ÏΠ/wukala/ (1302 2a,13) ‘deputies.’ This spelling is also part of the Hebraized orthography (Hary 1999:79). 1.4 The shift of the interdentals This shift is common in urban Arabic dialects; therefore, it is not surprising to see it in colloquial Egyptian Judeo-Arabic as well. The interdentals frequently become stops. In some cases, however, where the affiliation with Classical Arabic is more desired on the part of the ¡ar˙anim, as a language elevation technique, the interdentals become fricatives (Hary 1992:258–60, 3.6; 1994b:378), because fricatives are considered “closer” to interdentals in speakers’ phonemic inventory. 1.4.1 /®/ > /t/:3 1 ϘÂ˙ /tu /s/: ÒÈÁ /˙∑s/ (93 1,3) ‘since’; ˙ү‡ /wi- /d/: ·‰„ /dahab/ (15 3a,6) ‘gold’; „È· /nEb•d/ (3 1,1) ‘wine’; ‰¯Â΄ /dEk¥ra/ (3 7,9) ‘males’; Â„ /widno/ (3 24,12) ‘his ear’; Áȇ·„ /dabåyi˙/ (3 25,6) ‘sacrifices.’ 1.4.4 /ƒ/ > /z/: ˙·ÊÚ˙‡ /it>azzebit/ (15 19a,20) ‘(she) was punished’; ÈÊχ /il-lazi/ (1302 2a,11) ‘that’; Ê¡‡È /yåxuz/ (93 11,8) ‘(he) takes’; Â˙‡Ê /zåto/ (3 4,19) ‘himself’; ÊÈÊÏ /laz•z/ (3 27,10) ‘delightful.’3 2 1.5 The realization of Classical Arabic /≠•m/ For the most part, the realization of Classical Arabic /≠•m/ is the velar stop /g/: ¯‚˘ /¡agar/ (15 2a,6) ‘trees’; ÒÂÏ‚ /gul¥s/ (1302 1b,3) ‘sitting’; Ô‡ÚÈ‚ /gi>ån/ (3 2,4) ‘hungry.’ This is in line with Blanc 1981:189–93; Davies 2005:xxxv;3 3 and Hary 1996b (see above, p. 96). 1.6 The realization of Classical Arabic />ayn/ There is a weakening of the voiced pharyngeal fricative />/ in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect,3 4 as reflected in ¯˘‡˙‡ /itnaa¡ar/ (15 19b,9; 1302 2b,9) ‘twelve’; ¯˘‡„Á /˙idaa¡ar/ (74 23,17) ‘eleven’ (see below 2.2.7.2);3 5 „‰‡ /ahd/ (91 3a,8) ‘pact.’ This phenomenon is not uncommon in Semitic languages, occurring in other Judeo-Arabic dialects as well, and may be a feature of migrated dialectalism.3 6

32

Despite the fact that in an equivalent manuscript „È„Ï (74 20,1) ‘delightful’ appears, there is no supporting evidence for the pronunciation of /lad•d/. Thus, the orthography of „È„Ï may not reflect the shift /ƒ/ >/d/. 33 Davies has claimed that the phoneme was pronounced as /g/ by Y¥suf al-⁄irb•n• in seventeenth-century Egypt. 34 The orthography is a good indication of this weakening; however, it does not supply us with solid proof in this case. Support for this weakening comes from both modern Egyptian dialects and other Judeo-Arabic dialects. For example, in the modern Judeo-Arabic dialect of Peq•>•n, the “articulation of > is very weak in all positions” (Geva-Kleinberger 2005:47)—for example, /bsa(>)d¥na/ ‘they help us.’ 35 The weakening of the voiced pharyngeal fricative />/ appears in words for numbers in many Arabic dialects, and can also be considered consonant deletion. 36 For example, in the Judeo-Arabic dialects of Haifa (Geva-Kleinberger 2004:43), of Peq•>•n (idem 2005:47), and of Tiberias (idem 2008:9).

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CHAPTER FOUR 1.7 The realization of Classical Arabic /qåf/ 1.7.1 As is the case in the modern dialect of Cairo, the shift /q/ > /†abar¢/ (93 11,5) ‘is considered’; ·¯ÂË /†ur¢ab/ (91 9a,14) ‘graves’; and ÔÈ˯˥ /fi†Er¢†∑n/ (91 10a,4) ‘two matzas.’ In the environment of emphatic /†/: ËÈËÚ‡ /a>†∑†/ (91 3a,2) ‘I gave’; È¡ÂÂÁˇ /i†˙wa†¥ni/ (3 24,13) ‘(they) encompassed me’; and Èˇ˷¯ /ruba†å†i/ (74 14,14; 91 11b,6) ‘my bondage’ (Hary 1992:255, 3.3). 1.11.2 /d/ > [∂]: In the environment of emphatic [r¢]: ȃ¯ /r¢a∂i/ (15 0-2,6) ‘bad’; ¯ÿƒ· /ba∂∂ar¢/ (15 Additional Folio-b,1) ‘(he) came early’; 38

See chapter 9, p. 304, 13-1.1. See also ÍÁ˙È˙· /bEtit˙ak/ ‘you are laughing’ (TS AS 209.274/7, quoted in Khan 1992:231 and Wagner 2007:36). 39 In Egyptian Arabic /\amas/-/yi\mis/ means ‘dip,’ whereas /\ammis//yi\ammis/ means ‘eat while dipping the food’ (Hinds and Badawi 1986:630).

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CHAPTER FOUR ¯ƒÁ„ /da˙∂ar¢u/ (15 10a,13) ‘they caused to roll down’; ¯ƒ˜ /ni /s/: ÚÒÈÏ /li-yisna>/ (91 3a,17) ‘to do’; ˛Â¸Ò˜¯È /yir /baßß/ ‘see.’ 1.15 The definite article The definite article in the ¡ur¥˙ is written for the most part morphophonemically with the separate morpheme χ: √¯‡ χ (15 0-1,14) ‘the land’; ̇Èȇ χ (1302 1b,3) ‘the days’; and ˙È· χ (93 1,1) ‘the house.’ The exception ·ÂÚ˘‡ /i¡-¡u>¥b/ (74 11,12) ‘the nations’ points to the spoken pronunciation of the definite article with the regular full assimilation that usually occurs with coronal phonemes. This phonetic spelling is part of the Hebraized orthography (Hary 1996c:732), although it is not wide-spread. It is possible to assume that, in the 46

See Hary 1992:260, 3.7, and chapter 5, p. 151, 1.7. This feature is common in Moroccan Judeo-Arabic (Stillman 1988:31, 3) and may be part of migrated dialectalism (chapter 1, p. 22–23).

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect, the assimilation rules apply also to definite articles that precede nouns taken from Hebrew (Rosenbaum 2002c:124–25); however, it is not seen in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ because of the common morphophonemic spelling: ÍÂÙ˘ χ (3 colophon) ‘the (prayer) Pour (Your Wrath)’ (see chapter 5, p. 151, 2.1). 1.16 Complex phonological processes 1.16.1 The /†/ in the noun ¯ÂË4 7 /†or¢/ (93 85,16) ‘ox’ has undergone two phonological processes: first, the interdental became a stop (/®/ > /t/) as is common in urban dialects (see 1.4), and then it underwent emphatization (/t/ > [†]) in the environment of emphatic [r¢] (see above, p. 107, 1.11.1).

47

Note that in contemporary written Egyptian dialect, the spelling is similar, as in, for example, the title of the novel —u?Þ Áœ p¹b?!« This Rooster Is an Ox, published in 2007 in Cairo. See also above, p. 97.

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CHAPTER FOUR 2. Morphology 2.1 The Pronouns 2.1.1 Independent pronouns ‰Á‡ /i˙na/ (15 10a,16; 3 2,12; 3,3; 74 1,6; 10,9; 91 8b,1) ‘we’; Â˙‡ /intu/ (74 14,1; 91 10b,19; 93 65,11) ‘you (masc. pl.).’ The third plural form is a distinct feature of Cairene Judeo-Arabic dialect: ÔÓ‰ /humman/ (15 18a,10; 18a,15 and many more examples; 3 13,16; 17,20; 93 78,12) ‘they,’ 4 8 as opposed to standard Cairene /humma/, although the former may appear in regional Egyptian dialects as well as among lower socioeconomic speakers. 2.1.2 Possessive pronouns 2.1.2.1 First person singular: The usual /-i/ occurs regularly: È„ÈÒ /s•di/ (15 2a,1) ‘my master’; ÈÈ· /b˙ni/ (15 2a,2) ‘between me’; È·‡ /ibni/ (15 17b,10) ‘my son.’ After a long vowel the pronoun /-ya/ appears: ‰È‡¯Â /waråya/ (15 2a,18) ‘after me’; ‡È·‡ (15 2b,1 and more) and ‰È·‡ /ab¥ya/ (15 7b,15) ‘my father’; ‰È‡ÚÓ /ma>åya/ (15 10a,5 and more) ‘with me’; ‰ÈÏ /liyya/ (15 2b,1) ‘to me.’ 2.1.2.2 Second person masculine singular: The colloquial pronoun /-ak/ occurs regularly: ¬˙ÈÈÓ /mayyetak/ (15 2a,2) ‘your dead’; ¬˙ËÏÒ /sal†antak/ (1302 3a,15) ‘your kingdom’; ¬„È·Ú />ab•dak/ (3 7,19) ‘your slaves.’ 2.1.2.3 Second person feminine singular: The colloquial pronoun /-ik/ or /-ek/ appears: ¬Ë· /ba†nek/ (15 5b,6) ‘your belly’; ¬˙Á‡È¯Ï /liriyå˙tek/ (3 25,17) ‘to your rest’; however, after a long vowel the pronoun is /-ki/: È·˘Á‡ /a˙¡åki/ (15 5b,7) ‘your womb’; Èη‡ /ab¥ki/ (15 3a,7; 1302 4a,8) ‘your father.’ 2.1.2.4 Third person masculine /-o/ (or /-u/) appears after a consonant. Following prepositions and particles: ÂÈ· /b˙no/ (15 12b,13) ‘between him’; ÂÚÓ /ma>o/ (15 4a,12; 1302 4b,18) ‘with him’; „Ú />ando/ (15 48

There is only one example of ̉ in Genesis (15 5a,11), but I suspect it reflects classical use. See also Rosenbaum 2002b:38 and 2002c:126.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC 7a,13) ‘with/by him’; ÂÓ /minno/ (15 36a,15; 1302 4a,1) ‘from him’; ÂÓ‡„˜ /aßåya/ (3 13,2) ‘this is the rod’; È„ ˙‡Î /kånit di/ (3 26,19) ‘this was.’ 2.1.4.3 The Egyptian Haggadah exhibits Cairene Judeo-Arabic /døli/: „‡Ï‡ χ ÈÏ„ (3 10,17) ‘these are the sons’; ˙‡·¯ƒ ¯˘Ú ÈÏ„ (3 13,14) ‘these are the ten plagues’; ÈÏ„ ˙‡ÓÏÎ ˙‡Ï˙ (3 17,18–19) ‘these three words’; ÔÓ‰ ÈÏ„ (3 17,20) ‘and these are.’ Alongside this form, another variant is found in Genesis and Esther, /hadøli/: ÈÏ„‰ ̇ÏΠχΠ(15 3a,13) ‘like these words’; ÈÏ„‰ ̇ÏΠχ (15 24a,5) ‘these words’; ÏÂÎ ‰¯Â˘ „‡Ï‡ ÈÏ„‰ (15 4b,15–16) ‘all of these are the children of Ketura’; ÈÏ„‰ ȃ‡¯‡ χ (15 6a,11) ‘these lands’; ÈÏ„‰ ‰È‡ˆÚ χ (15 23b,18–19) ‘these rods’; ÈÏ„‰ ̇Èȇ χ (1302 1b,7) ‘these days.’ This variant /hadøli/ is a feature of migrated dialectalism (chapter 1, pp. 22–23) as it exists in Christian (/hadøli/) and Judeo-Arabic (/haƒøli/) Baghdadi dialects.5 0 2.1.5 Relative pronouns /illi/ is employed, reflecting dialectal use: ‰È‡ËˆÂ χ ‰¯ÈË¥ χ „¡‡È Ì‰ȥ Èχ (3 1,9–10) ‘and (they) take the middle matza which is inside’; ‰¯˙˘‡ Èχ È„‚ χ Ï· (74 24,14–15 and more) ‘and (he) ate the kid that (he) bought’; ˘¥¯ÚÈ ‡Ó Èχ (91 2b,8) ‘and he who does not know’; ‡˙‡‰·‡Ï ˙È¥˜Â Èχ ‡Èȉ (91 3a,13) ‘it is that (promise), which has stood by our fathers.’ 2.1.6 Interrogative pronouns 2.1.6.1 ˘È‡ /∑¡/ (15 2a,2; 6a,20; and more; 1302 2b,8; 4b,17; and more; 74 2,13; 10,6; and more; 93 17,3; 39,4; and more) and ˘‡ (3 1,13; 2,8; and many other occurrences; 91 8b,8; 10b,2; and more) ‘what’ (see

50

See Blanc 1964:138. Muslim Baghdadi Arabic exhibits /h(a)ƒøla/; however, Erwin (2004:290) reports occasional /haƒøli/.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC above, p. 98, ii) are common in Cairene Judeo-Arabic dialect, reflecting the preservation of an older form in standard Cairene.5 1 Furthermore, this pronoun appears at the beginning of the sentence, as opposed to standard Cairene /∑h/, which is usually postposed (/ismak ∑h/ ‘what is your name?’): ˙Ï‚Ú˙Ò‡ ‰„ ˘È‡ (15 8a,6) ‘what is this that you hurried?’; ¬˙·ÏË ˘È‡Â (1302 4a,17; 4b,1; and more) ‘and what is your request?’; ‰„‚‰ χ ‡È‰ ˘‡ (3 1,13) ‘what is the Haggadah?’ From the data in the ¡ur¥˙, it seems that in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries Jews in Cairo used the interrogative pronoun /∑¡/ exclusively. Rosenbaum (2002c:126) has shown that in twentiethcentury Cairene, Jews used /∑¡/ alongside standard Cairene /∑h/. In the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ there are two instances of ‰È‡ /∑h/ (93 67,2; 70, 2) ‘what,’ indicating the possible beginning of the linguistic change. However, the pronoun is still preposed: ‰ÏÏ‡Ï ·È‡‚‡ ‰È‡ (93 67,2) ‘how shall I repay to God?’; Ô‡Ò‡ χ ÈÏ ÚˆÈ ‰È‡ (93 70,2) ‘what will the man do to me?’ In contrast, the equivalent interrogative pronoun ‡Ó /ma/ in 93 13,1, for example, could be a borrowing from the literary variety or an imitation of the Hebrew ‰Ó and is not a reflection of the dialect. 2.1.6.2 ˘È‡ „˜ /arrafk/ ‘How did you find out?’; /∑¡˙ål law/ ‘What would happen if … ?’; and more (Hinds and Badawi 1986:46). In standard Egyptian /i¡mi>na/ ‘what does it mean?’ the vowel of the interrogative is a short /i/.

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CHAPTER FOUR †ayyibåt/ (91 7a,17) ‘how many good deeds?’; ·¯ƒ‡ ̇Π/kåm in∂arabu/ (93 31,14) ‘how many times were they smitten?’ 2.1.6.3 ˘ÈÏ /l∑¡/ (15 5b,20; 9a,6; and many more occurrences; 91 10b,8) and ˘Ï /le¡/ (3 23,10; 74, 13,4) ‘why’ (see above, p. 98, [ii]) are typical in Cairene Judeo-Arabic dialect, preserving an older form of standard Cairene and appearing preposed in the sentence: ÔÓ ¥˜Â˙ ˘ÈÏ ‰¯· (15 3a,17) ‘why do you stand outside?’; ÂÏÂ˜È ˘Ï (3 23,10) ‘why do they say?’ This is in contrast to postposed standard Cairene /l∑h/: /ru˙t l∑h/ ‘why did you go?’ 2.1.6.4 ¥ÈÎ /k∑f/ (15 30b,2; 1302 6a,2) ‘how’ in Cairene Judeo-Arabic also preserves an older form and is preposed as well: ÚÏˇ ¥ÈÎ (15 31,b) ‘how (can) I go forth?’ This is in contrast to standard modern Cairene where /izzåy/ is employed as the postposed interrogative pronoun for ‘how.’ 2.1.6.5 The following are other common interrogative pronouns that are typical to the dialect: ÔÈÓ /m•n/ (15 3a,6) ‘who?’; ÔÈ¥ /f∑n/ (15 22a,6) ‘where?’; ÔÈÓ /min∑n/ (15 10a,16; 3 14,18) ‘from where?’ 2.1.7 Genitive marker The texts of the ¡ur¥˙ reflect at times the Cairene genitive marker /bitå>/ or /bEta>/ (masc. sg.), with some attestation of /bitå>a/ or /bEta>a/ (fem. sg.) but no attestation of /bit¥>/ (pl.). 5 2 The following examples from the Haggadah keep the gender and number agreement: ¥ˆ „¡‡È ÔÈÓ˜ȥ‡ Ú‡˙· È·¡Ó ԇΠÈ≤χ ‰¯ËÈÈ¥ χ (93 47,10) ‘(the participants) hold half of the hidden matza of the afikoman’;5 3 ‰¯ÈË¥ χ ¥ˆÂ „¡‡È ÔÈÓ˜ȥ‡ ˙Ú‡˙· ‰ÈÈ·‡¡Ó χ (74 22,1) ‘(the participants) take half of the hidden matza of the afikoman’; ÔÈÓ˜¥ χ ˙ÈÚ˙· ‰¯ÈË¥ χ ÒÂ „¡È 52

Note that in Classical Egyptian Judeo-Arabic there is evidence for both the feminine and the plural forms. See Blau 1980:159. 53 In the days of the temple, the meal began and ended with the lamb meat of the Passover sacrifice; in the period since the destruction of the temple, the meal begins and ends with the eating of matza; the last bit, whether of the Passover meat or of the matza, is called the afikoman, meaning the “last bit” (David Blumenthal, personal communication).

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC (91 10a,12) ‘(the participants) take half of the matza of the afikoman.’ However, in the following examples the marker /bitå>/ (masc. sg.) modifies feminine nouns, which may indicate the frozen use of the marker in Cairene Judeo-Arabic dialect: Ú‡˙· ˙‡Î … ‰·¯ƒÂ ‰·¯ƒ ÏÎ ˙‡·¯ƒ Ú·¯ (3 14, 18–19 through 15,1–2) ‘each plague … was of four plagues’; ˙‡·¯ƒ ÒÓ¡ Ú‡˙· ˙‡Î … ‰·¯ƒÂ ‰·¯ƒ ÏÎ (3 15, 9–10 through 15,11) ‘each plague … was of five plagues’; Ú‡˙· ‡ˆÓ χ „¡‡È ÔÈÓ˜ȥ‡ (3 22,13) ‘(the participants) hold the matza of the afikoman’ (see also chapter 5, pp. 151–52, 2.3). In Á·Âˆ χ Ú‡˙· ÚÓ˘ ˙Èȯ˜ (3 3,15-16) ‘the reading of the morning Shema’ it is possible that /bitå>/ modifies ÚÓ˘ (masc.) and not ˙Èȯ˜ (fem.), but in the following example, the masculine singular marker /bitå>/ modifies two (inanimate) nouns: ÔÈÁ ¯Âη χ¯˘È Ú‡˙· ÍÂ¥˘ χ ȷ¯Ú χ· ‰„‚‰ χ ·‡˙Î ‡≤‡‰ (3 colophon) ‘This is the book of the Haggadah in Arabic and the section pour, both of them of Israel Be˙or Óanin.’ On the other hand, this nonagreement may be connected to the nature of the verbatim translation (see chapter 8, 10-3.16) and does not necessarily reflect spoken use. 2.2 The verb 2.2.1 The perfect 2.2.1.1 The pattern /fu>ul/, typical in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic (Hary 1992:280–85), is common in the spoken dialect as well: ˙¯˙ÂÎ /kutret/ (15 0-2,5) ‘(it) grew’; ıÂÏ¡ /xuluß/ (3 5,2) ‘was redeemed’; ϘÂ˙ /tu

uΩmu/ (3 8,9) ‘(they) grew mighty’; È˙¯Â·ÂÎ /kuburti/ (91 4b,15) ‘you (fem.) grew’; ˙¯Â˜Â¥ /fuil/ also occurs in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic and is reflected in the spoken variety: ȯ‚ /giri/ (15 2b,18) ‘(he) ran’;

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CHAPTER FOUR ˙Èȯ‚ /giryit/ (15 3a,12) ‘(she) ran’; ÂÈË¡ /xi†yu/ (15 24a,5) ‘(they) sinned’; ÂÈÈÓ /nimyu/ (93 22,10) ‘(they) grew, increased’; ÈÂÂȘ /<Ewi/ (91 11b,11) ‘(it) found strength, became strong.’ 2.2.1.3 Some colloquial perfect verbal suffixes are attested: 2.2.1.3.1 /t/ for first person singular and second person masculine singular: ˙ÓÏÎ˙‡ /itkallimt/ (15 3b,1) ‘I spoke’; ˙¥¯Ú />araft/ (15 12a,15) ‘you (masc.) knew.’ 2.2.1.3.2 /ti/ for second person feminine singular: È˙¯Â˙ÂÎ /kuturti/ (91 4b,15) ‘you (fem.) increased.’ 2.2.1.3.3 /tu/ for second person plural: Â˙È‚ /g∑tu/ (15 27b,2; 27b,5; 27b,7; and more) ‘you (pl.) came’; Â˙ÚÓÒ ÌÏ /wi-lam simi>tu/ (15 28a,3) ‘and you (pl.) did not hear’; Â˙Ó„Ú (15 28b,7) ‘you (pl.) lost’ or ‘you (pl.) were deprived.’ 2.2.2 The imperfect Haim Blanc (1974) has divided Arabic dialects into A-dialects and N-dialects. The former are typically “eastern” with /akteb–nekteb/ for the first person singular—first person plural imperfect forms, whereas the latter are “western” with /nekteb–nektebu/ for the same forms. The division into A- and N-dialects is preferable to the geographical distinction, because the boundaries between east and west are unclear. In fact, thanks to Blanc, we know that in Egypt both the A-dialects and the N-dialects coexist. One of the most salient features of Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect is the use of the N-dialect /nekteb–nektebu/ forms, alongside the A-forms /akteb–nekteb/. 2.2.2.1 The first person singular imperfect in Later Egyptian JudeoArabic dialect may be of the /nekteb/ type as is the case in the N-dialects: ¥¯Ú ‰‡ /ana ni>raf/ (93 88,6 and more) ‘I know.’ 2.2.2.2 The first person plural imperfect in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic can be of the /niktébu/ type as is the case in N-dialects. It is especially surprising in Cairo:5 4 ÂËÚ /ni>†u/ (15 18a,3) ‘we give’; „¡‡ /naxdu/ (15 54

Behnstedt and Woidich (1985 2:210–12) have identified /niktib–niktíbu/ in

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC 18a,3; 18a,12) ‘we take’; „ÂÚ˜ /niudu/ (15 18a,4) ‘we sit’; ÂϘ /niu/ (15 25a,6) ‘(they) graze’; ÂÎÁÈ· Â‡Î /wi-kånu biyi˙ku/ (3 3,13) ‘and (they) were telling’; ‰ÓÏÚÈ· /bi>allimna/ (91 4b,2) ‘(they) teach us’; ¯∂‡· /banΩur/ (1302 4b,10) ‘I see.’ 2.2.3 The participle The participle ÔÈÏ· /wakl•n/ (3 2,12) ‘have eaten (pl.)’ uses the colloquial root w-k-l. 2.2.4 The passive 2.2.4.1 The passive in the dialect employs the in- form, among other forms: Ô¥„‡ /indafan/ (15 5a,4) ‘(he) was buried’; ¬Ï‰‡ /anhalik/ (15 18b,10) ‘I will be annihilated’; ÌÎÁ‡ /in˙akam/ (1302 2a,12) ‘(it) was decreed’; ‡ËÚÈ /yin>a†a/ (1302 2a,15) ‘(it) is given’; ÚÓÒ‡ /insama>/ (1302 2b,3) ‘(it) was heard’; ˙≤¡‡‡ /inaraf/ (1302 3a,1) ‘(it) was known’; «˙Á·‡ /inba˙as/ (1302 3a,2) ‘(it) was investigated’; Ì˙¡‡ /inxatam/ (1302 3b,3) ‘(it) was sealed’; ÏÚ‚‡ /inga>al/ (1302 3b,20) ‘(it) was issued’; Úˆ˙ /tinßini>/ (1302 4b,1) ‘(it) will be done’; ‡ÈÚ·‡ /inba>∑na/ (1302 5b,1) ‘we were sold’; χ˜˙ /tinal form is used for passive constructions: ¯·¡˙‡ /itxabar/ (15 23a,15) ‘(it) was told’; Âω·˙‡ /itbahalu/ (15 31b,9) ‘(they) were scared’; ˙˙˘˙‡ /it¡attit/ (1302 2a,18) ‘(it) was scattered’; ‡ÏÓ˙‡ /itmala/ (1302 3a,10; 4b,5) ‘(he) was filled’; ‰„˙‡ /itnadahu/ (1302 3b,1) ‘(they) were called.’ 2.2.5 Verbal forms 2.2.5.1 Form I 2.2.5.1.1 It is common in the dialects as well as in spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic to observe the shift from form IV to form I. Thus, several verbs appear in the texts in the verbal form I rather than IV: ‰ËÚ />a†a/ (15 24b,20; 74 2,7) ‘(he) gave’; ÂÏÒ¯ /rasalu/ (15 4a,18) ‘(they) sent.’ 2.2.5.1.2 The verb ‘come’ The texts reveal some colloquial characteristics of this verb which also appear in standard Cairene: ˙È‚ /g∑t/ (15 3b,11) ‘I came’; ‰È‚ /g∑na/ (15 15b,4) ‘we came’; Â˙È‚/ÌÂ˙È‚ /g∑tu(m)/ (15 7a,6; 27b,2; and more) ‘you (pl.) came.’ The third person form in the ¡ur¥˙ is both ‰È‚ /geh/ (15 8b,1 24a,14; and more) and ‰‚ /gah/ (15 18b,13; 19a,2; and more) ‘he came’ as in standard Cairene. Furthermore, the texts feature specific Egyptian Judeo-Arabic traits: ˙˙‡‚ /gåtit/ (15 28a,2 and more) ‘she came’ (/gat/ in the standard variety) and ‚ /gu/ (3 3,14) ‘(they) came’ (/gum/ in the standard variety). Egyptian Judeo-Arabic has also /ega/ ‘he came’ and /egu/ ‘they came,’ attested in earlier periods.5 6 2.2.5.1.3 The verbs ‘eat’ and ‘take’ Whereas the short forms /kal/ ‘he ate’ and /xad/ ‘he took’ are common in standard Egyptian dialect, spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic does not employ them in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙. Of course it is possible that the long forms appearing in the ¡ur¥˙ represent standard literary 56

See also Blanc 1974:215; Hary 1992:285 and the references there; Rosenbaum 2002c:126.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC Arabic and not the colloquial; however, it is telling that the standard Cairene short forms /kal/ and /xad/ are missing:5 7 ˙Ï· /akalt/ (15 8b,5) ‘I ate’; Ï· /akal/ (15 6a,3; 13,8; and more; 93 83,9) ‘he ate’; ˙ÈÏ· /akalit/ (15 22a,12; 93 84,8; 84,16; and more) ‘she ate’; ‰Ï· /akalna/ (93 59,19; 62,12) ‘we ate’; Â˙Ï· /akaltu/ (15 22b,3) ‘you (pl.) ate’; ÂÏ· /akalu/ (15 14b,20; 15a,13; and more; 3 2,2; 93 62,15) ‘they ate’; ˙„¡‡ /axadt/ (15 24b,1; 36a,20) ‘I took’; „¡‡ /axad/ (15 15b,17; 16a,12; 1302 2b,3) ‘he took’; ˙„¡‡ /axadet/ (15 11b,12; 14a,18; and more) ‘she took’; „¡‡ /axadu/ (15 18a,19; 18b,2; and more; 1302 1b,8) ‘they took.’ 2.2.5.1.4 The verb ‘go’ The verb /r¢å˙/ is usual in standard Egyptian dialect, occurring also in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect: ˙Á¯ /ru˙t/ (15 18b,3) ‘I went’; ˙Á¯ /ru˙t/ (15 14a,11) ‘you (masc. sg.) went’; Á‡¯ /rå˙/ (15 2b,7; 4b,2; and more) ‘he went’; ˙Á‡¯ /rå˙et/ (15 4b,1; 4b,2; and more) ‘she went’; ÂÁ‡¯ /rå˙u/ (15 28a,10; 38a,16; and more) ‘they went.’ However, Cairene Judeo-Arabic dialect has also the unusual variant of /ar¢å˙/: Á‡¯‡ (15 6b,5; 9b,1; 9b,6) ‘he went’ (Blanc 1974:215; Rosenbaum 2002c:126). 2.2.5.1.5 Shift of final-hamza verbs It is common in the dialect for final-hamza verbs to shift to “defective” verbs (R3 =/ R3 =/y/). There is evidence for this shift in the various Egyptian ¡ur¥˙: ÂÏÓÈ /yimlu/ (15 2b,12; 3 1,1) ‘(they) fill’; ˙ÏÓ˙‡ /itmalet/ (15 0-2,12) ‘was filled.’ 2.2.5.2 Form V Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish in the dialect between verbal form V preceded by a prothetic alif and itfa>al: ‰ÓÏÚ˙‡ /it>allEmna/ (3 5,11) or /it>alEmna/ ‘we learned.’

57

See confirmation for the lack of the short forms in Blanc 1974:215 and Hary 1992:285–86.

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CHAPTER FOUR 2.2.5.3 itfa>>al and itfa>al This is a common pattern in spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic as well as in standard Egyptian dialect, which can be used also for the passive (see above, p. 120, 2.2.4.2) in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic (Hary 1992:287): ‰˘Ó˙‡ /itma¡¡a/ (15 0-1,6) ‘(he) walked’; ·Â‡˙‡ /itu/ (15 10a,13) ‘(they) were gathered’; ÂË·¡˙‡ /itxabba†u/ (15 5b,4) ‘(they) fumbled about’; ˜ÓÁ˙‡Â /w-it˙amaa¡áret/ (93 92,6–7 and more) ‘the ten commandments (words) of the Torah’; È≤χ ˙ÈÚ‡Ò /så>et/ (93 18,7) ‘the time in which’; ‡˘ÂÓ ˙ÈÚȯ˘ /¡ari>et/ (93 62,20) ‘the law of Moses’; ‚‡ÂÂÓ‡ ˙È˘Âµ‡Î /a\u¡et/ (93 77,14) ‘like the multitude of its waves’; χ¯÷È ˙ÈÚÓ‚ /gamá>et/ (93 79,8) ‘the house of Israel’; and possibly ‰¯˜Â¥ χ ˙ÈÈ¡¯Ò /sarxiyet/ (93 79,3) and ÔÈÎÒÓ Ï‡ ˙ÈÈ¡¯Ò (93 79,3–4) ‘the cry of the poor’; ‰ÈÈχ„ χ ˙Èȉ·¥

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC /fakhiyet/ (93 82,16) ‘the fruit of the vine.’5 8 2.3.2 The dual and the sound plural 2.3.2.1 The n¥n of the dual and of the masculine sound plural is preserved with pronominal suffixes and in the first term of an i∂åfa in Late Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect as well as in standard Egyptian: Â˙¡Â‡ ÔÈ„‡ /id∑n uxto/ (15 3a,15) ‘his sister’s hands’; ̉È˙‡ /itn∑nhum/ (15 24a,11) ‘both of them’; ‰Ï‡‚¯ χ ÔÈÏ‚¯Â /wi-rigl∑n ir-riggåla/ (15 3a,20) ‘the men’s feet’; ÂÈÂÂ„Ú />aduww•no/ (15 4b,1) ‘his enemies’; ‡‰ȯ∂‡ ÏÎ ÔÈÈÚ />en∑n kullE naΩr•nha/ (1302 2b,16) ‘the eyes of all who saw her’; ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ÔÈÈÚ È¥ /fi >en∑n il-malik/ (1302 2a,15–16) ‘in the king’s eyes’; ‡ȉ¯‡Î5 9 (93 23,9) /karh•nna/ ‘the people who hate us’; ‰ÈÈ·‚‡ ‰„‡·Ú ÔÈ„·‡Ú />abid•n >ibåda agnabiyya/ (3 5,17–18) ‘worshippers of foreign idols.’ 2.4 The adjective 2.4.1 The Egyptian colloquial adjective pattern /fu>ayyal/ appears in the ¡ar˙: ÔÈڇȥ¯ /rufayya>•n/ (15 25a,7; 25a,9; 25a,12; 25a,13; 25b,12; 25b,13; 25b,14; 25b,19; 25b,20; 26a,4) ‘lean, thin’; ÔÈÏ˛È¸Èχ /ulayyil•n/ (15 25a,7) ‘few.’ 2.5 The numerals The texts of the ¡ur¥˙ exhibit many references to the forms of the numerals in Late Egyptian Judeo-Arabic dialect. 2.5.1 1–10: ÔÈ˙‡ /itn∑n/ (15 0-1,2) ‘two’ with the shift of the interdental /®/ to the stop /t/. 2.5.2 11–19: ¯˘‡„Á /˙idaa¡ar/ (74 23,17) ‘eleven’ with the /ar/ ending typical of the Egyptian dialect and with a possible weakening of the 58

The orthography in the last three examples probably indicates /i/, as is mentioned in the section. Had the pronunciation been /a/ (/sarxiyat/ and /fakhiyat/), it is possible that the ¡ar˙an would have written one yod only. 59 This phenomenon is less obvious in the spelling in another manuscript, ‰ȉ¯Î (3 9,5), where the two n¥ns collapse into one.

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CHAPTER FOUR pharyngeal fricative />/, or simply consonant deletion (see also above, p. 104, 1.6); ¯˘Ú ÔÈ˙‡ /itn∑n>a¡ar/ (15 5a,13) ‘twelve’ with the shift of the interdental to a stop.6 0 More typical Egyptian forms are ¯˘‡˙‡ /itnaa¡ar/ (15 19b,9; 1302 2b,9) ‘twelve’; and ¯˘Ú ˙Ú·¯‡ /arba>ata>¡ar/ (93 1,1) ‘fourteen.’ 2.5.3 20–90: ÔÈ˙Ï˙6 1 /talat•n/ (15 0-1,1) ‘thirty’ with the shifts of the long /å/ to short /a/ and the interdental /®/ to the stop /t/; ÔÈÓ˙6 2 /taman•n/ (15 0-1,9) ‘eighty’ with the same shifts as the previous example, ÔÈ˙Ï˙. 2.5.4 100–900: ÔÈ˙ÈÓ /mit∑n/ (3 15,17) ‘two hundred’; ‰È‡Ó ÒÓ¡ /xumsumiyya/ (15 0-1,17) ‘five hundred’; ‰È‡ÓÓ˙ /tamanmiyya/ (15 0-1,1) ‘eight hundred’ with short vowels and the shift of the interdental /®/ to the stop /t/. According to the ¡ur¥˙, Cairene Jews still used older forms in the numerals in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries: ‰Ò ˙ÈȇÓØ˙È‡Ó Ú·¯Â‡ /urbu>miyya/ (3 6,17; 91 3a,10) ‘four hundred’ 6 3 as opposed to the standard Cairene /rub>umiyya/.6 4 2.5.5 1,000 and upwards: ¥‡Ï‡ ˙¯˘Ú />a¡rattalåf/ (1302 3a,17) ‘ten thousand.’

60

In another example the supralinear dot above the tav indicates a literary form: ¯˘Ú È«˙‡ (15 27b,8) ‘twelve.’ 61 In ÔÈ«˙‡Ï«˙ (15 5a,14) ‘thirty,’ the orthography represents the literary variety. 62 The form ÔÈÈÓ˙ /tmany•n/ (15 0-1,11) ‘eighty’ with the glide /y/ is unusual. 63 The spelling of ˙ȇÓÂÚ·¯‡ (15 2a,4) does not demonstrate standard Cairene pronunciation of /rub>umiyya/. 64 See also Blanc 1974:217. In fact, today Cairene Jews still use this nonstandard form, as Rosenbaum (2002c:126) has reported.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC 3. Syntax 3.1 Demonstrative pronouns In the ¡ar˙, the demonstrative pronoun usually follows the noun it refers to, as is usual in colloquial Egyptian Judeo-Arabic: ‰„ ‰Ïµ χ (15 26a,11) ‘this famine’; ‰„ ¯ÈË¥ (3 18,10) ‘this matza’; ‰„ ¯¯Ó (3 18,19) ‘this bitter herb’; ÈÏ„‰ ̇ÏΠχ (15 3a,13; 10b,10–11) ‘these words’; ÈÏ„‰ ȃ‡¯‡ χ ÏÂÎ (15 6a,8–9; 6a,11) ‘all these lands’; χ ÈÏ„‰ ‰Ï‡‚¯ (15 18a,10) ‘and these men’; ÈÏ„‰ ̇Èȇ χ (1302 1b,5) ‘these days’; ÈÏ„ ˙‡ÓÏÎ ˙‡Ï˙ (3 17,18–19) ‘these three words’; χ ÏÎ ÈÏ„‰ ·È‡‚Ú (3 19,17–18) ‘all these miracles.’ Even when using standard literary demonstrative pronouns, the colloquial word order is preserved: ‰„‡‰ ÌÂÈ Ï‡ (15 7a,16) ‘this day’; ‰„‡‰ ˙È· χ (15 24b,8) ‘this house’; È„‡‰ ‰˜Èƒ χ (15 28a,2) ‘this anguish’; È„‡‰ ‰È„‰ χ (15 29a,17) ‘this gift’; È„‡‰ √¯‡ χ (15 6a,7; 35b,7) ‘this land’; È„‡‰ ‰ÏÈÏ Ï‡ (3 2,9) ‘this night’; È„‡‰ ‰È„ χ (3 4,3) ‘this world’; È„‡‰ È„‡·Ú χ (3 4,17) ‘this worship.’ This word order follows regular colloquial Egyptian use, for example, /ill∑la di/ ‘this night.’ At the same time, and perhaps as part of the verbatim translation, this word order also translates literally the Hebrew demonstrative pronoun word order (‰Ê‰ ‰ÏÈω ‘this night,’ for example; see chapter 8, pp. 244–48, 6-4). 3.2 The definite article Sometimes the definite article may be dropped from the noun in a noun-adjective phrase, as in ‰„„ÓÓ Ï‡ Ú‡¯„ ȥ ‰„È„˘ χ „È È¥ (3 2,20–3,1)‘with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm’ (See also chapter 8, pp. 268–69, 9-1.7). This may reflect dialectal behavior (Hary 1992: 30–33). 3.3 Negation 3.3.1 The use of /ma … ¡/ to negate the imperfect is regular in spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic: ˘¥¯ÚÈ ‡Ó /mayi>raf¡/ (3 4,10) ‘(he) does not know’; ˘Â˜¯¥È ‡Ó /mayifrEraf¡ yisal/ or /mayi>raf¡ yisa¡¡u/ (3 1,4) ‘(they) are not going to eat.’

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC 4. Lexicon 4.1 Prepositions: Several prepositions employed in the ¡ar˙ are reflections of Egyptian Judeo-Arabic colloquial use: // ‘genitive marker, of (masc.)’; ‡‰Ï‡ /ilahna/ ‘our God.’ The weakening of the voiced pharyngeal fricative />/ (p. 105, 1.6): ¯˘‡„Á /˙idaa¡ar/ ‘eleven’; „‰‡ /ahd/ ‘pact.’ The existence of the voiceless bilabial stop /p/ (p. 107, 1.9): χ ÌÈ˘µÏÙ ‘the concubines’; ˘„ÏÙ ‘Pildash.’ Emphatization in words originating in Hebrew (p. 108, 1.11.4):

See, for example, Tomiche 1968:1179–81; Blanc 1974, 1981, 1985; and Hary 1992, 1994b, 1996c, 1997a. 74 See, for example, Rosenbaum 2002b, 2002c, 2002d. 75 I am planning on writing in the near future a study about tracking these linguistic changes. 76 The selected examples do not include manuscript citations for ease of reading; however, the reader is referred back to the paragraphs in the chapter where they are properly cited.

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SPOKEN EGYPTIAN JUDEO-ARABIC ı¥¯Î /kar¢faß/ ‘greens for the Passover seder’; ‰È¯∂Ú />aΩar¢ya/ ‘Azarya.’ (vii) Deemphatization (pp. 108–9, 1.12): ÒÂ /nuss/ ‘half’; ¯„¡‡ /axdar/ ‘green.’ (viii) The occasional shift /¡/ > /s/ (p. 110, 1.13.4): Ò„˜ /ul/ (p. 117, 2.2.1.1): ıÂÏ¡ /xuluß/ ‘was redeemed’; È˙¯Â˙ÂÎ /kuturti/ ‘you (fem.) increased.’ (xv) The use of /nekteb–nektébu/ imperfect verbs (pp. 118–19, 2.2.2): ¥¯Ú ‰‡ /ana ni>raf/ ‘I know’; „¡‡ /naxdu/ ‘we take’; „ÂÚ˜ /niudu/ ‘we sit.’ (xvi) Unique forms of the verb ‘come’ (p. 120, 2.2.5.1.2): ˙˙‡‚ /gåtit/ ‘she came’; ‚ /gu/ ‘they came.’ (xvii) The appearance of the “long” forms of ‘eat’ and ‘take’ (pp. 120–21, 2.2.5.1.3): Â˙Ï· /akaltu/ ‘you (pl.) ate’; „¡‡ /axadu/ ‘they took.’ (xviii) A special form of the verb ‘go’ (p. 121, 2.2.5.1.4): Á‡¯‡ /ar¢å˙/. 135

CHAPTER FOUR (xix) Roots originating in Hebrew may receive Arabic morphological patterns, creating mixed forms (chapter 5, p. 153, 2.7): ˙ÈÎÊ /zak∑t/ ‘I gained’ and ‰ÎÊ˙‡ /itzaka/ ‘(he) gained’; ¯„‡„Ò /sadådir/ ‘sections of the Mishna’ (chapter 5, p. 153, n. 24). (xx) The use of archaic numeral forms (p. 124, 2.5.4): ˙È‡Ó Ú·¯Â‡ /urbu>miyya/ ‘four hundred.’ (xxi) The use of an alternative feminine ending morpheme in the first term of an i∂åfa, /-et/ or /-it/ (2.3.1): ̇Èȇ ˙ÈÚ·Ò /sab>etayyåm/ ‘seven days’; ‡˘ÂÓ ˙ÈÚȯ˘ /¡ari>et m¥sa/ ‘the law of Moses.’ (xxii) The possible extensive use of the negation particle /lam/ (3.3.3): with perfect verbs: ˙Ϙ ÌÏ ‘I did not say’; ԇΠÌÏ ‘(he) was not’; with imperfect verbs: ¯·¡˙ ÌÏ ‘(she) will not inform’; ÌÏ È˘˙¡ ‘we will not be abashed’; with nouns: ÌÂ˙‡ ÔÈÒÒ‚ ÌÏ Ô‡ ¥¯Ú‡Â ‘and I will know that you are not spies’; with pronouns: ÂÏ ÌÏ ÈÏ ‘to me and not to him’; with prepositions: „ÁÂÏ ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ‡ÏÚ ÌÏ ‘not only against the king’; in isolation: È„ÈÒ ÌÏ ‰Èχ Âχ˜Â ‘And they told him, “No, sir.” ’ (xxiii) The use of the adverb /kamåna/ ‘also.’ (xxiv) The use of words originating in Hebrew: ÌÈ˘µÏÙ /pila\¡•m/ ‘concubines’; ¯¥Ò /sefer/ ‘scroll’; ϯ‡Ú />aril/, plural ÔÈÈϯ‡Ú />ariliy•n/ ‘Christian man/men’; ˙‡·˘ /¡abbåt/ ‘Saturday, Shabbat’; ‰ÙÂÁ /˙uppa/ ‘marriage’; ‰¯Â˙ /tøra/ and ‰¯ÂË /†øra/ ‘Torah’; ·È¯ÈÚ />∑r∑b/ ‘evening’; ÔÈ¥‚ /gefen/ ‘vine’; Ò„˜ // ‘the prayer of the Shema’; ıÈÓÁ /˙am∑ß/ ‘unleavened food’; ˙Ȉ¯Á /˙arøß∑t/ ‘Óaroset’; ‰ˆÓ /maßå/ ‘matza’; ı¥¯Î /kar¢faß/ ‘Karpas, greens for the Passover seder’; ¯¯ÂÓ /morer/ ‘bitter herbs’; ÔÈÓ˜ȥ‡ /afikum•n/ ‘afikoman.’7 7 77

For more examples, see chapter 5, especially pp. 156–59.

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CHAPTER FIVE ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡arh¢ TRADITION This chapter examines the use of pseudocorrections in Judeo-Arabic in general and in the Egyptian ¡ur¥˙ in particular. It demonstrates how both hypercorrections and hypocorrections, which are two different types of pseudocorrections, are used in the texts, and it discusses the implications of the standardization of pseudocorrections in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic for both the literary and the spoken varieties. Furthermore, the chapter develops a theoretical model for the use of Hebrew and Aramaic components in Jewish religiolects in general and in Judeo-Arabic in particular. Using Uriel Weinreich’s work on languages in contact, this model demonstrates how components are transferred to Judeo-Arabic from two different directions, supplying the reasons for each direction and giving examples for each direction from the various Egyptian ¡ur¥˙. The chapter ends with a discussion of Hebrew and Aramaic lexical items employed in the Egyptian ¡ur¥˙.1 Issue One: Pseudocorrections Pseudocorrections are forms that “result from speakers’ and writers’ desire to speak and write a more prestigious variety and to avoid stigmatized forms” (Hary 2007:277). The prevalence of these forms in Judeo-Arabic texts results from a traceable social process. At times Judeo-Arabic authors want to embellish their writings with prestigious Classical Arabic forms, but their competence in Classical Arabic is 1

Some of the material in this chapter was published in a different form in Hary 1999 and 2007.

CHAPTER FIVE insufficient. So, they “correct” certain forms although these corrections are not necessary according to Classical Arabic norms (Blau 1970). Ultimately, these “corrected” forms create mechanisms for language change.2 I described in detail (Hary 2007:275) the process of the creation of pseudocorrections, also termed “overcorrectness”: Whenever a variety of a language with social, religious, economic, or other prestige comes into contact with a variety without such prestige, speakers and writers of the latter will, at times, try to use forms of the former even if the forms are unnecessary in that linguistic environment. They will change or “correct” forms of the prestigeless variety and utilize the forms of the language with the prestige. However, sometimes these speakers do not have sufficient knowledge of the prestigious variety. Thus, they change or “correct” forms that do not need to be changed even according to the prestigious variety, and may arrive at forms that are “too corrected” (hence, hypercorrections) or “halfway corrected” (or “not corrected enough”; hence, hypocorrections). Furthermore, speakers and writers may sometimes mix forms. Such pseudocorrections stem from the desire of the speakers to “decorate” themselves with forms of the prestigious variety and to avoid the dominant usage of the prestigeless variety, often out of overself-denial in order to gain prestige in their speech or writings. At times, such corrections can become standardized in the prestigeless variety, thus contributing to language change.

The differences between hypercorrection and hypocorrection are explained in detail in Hary 2007:277–78. John Ohala (1993) has discussed both forms in regard to sound change. A famous example for this kind of sound change is the emergence of the umlaut in the history of Old English (Yu 2006:527). 2

See Labov 1972:178–80. Examples of a linguistic change caused by a pseudocorrection are the use of hamza in Arabic (Hary 2007:279), or the use of /lam/ in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic (chapter 4, pp. 94–95, and chapter 8, pp. 215–17, 4-2.1), although there are scholars who interpret this phenomenon differently.

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ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡ar˙ TRADITION As mentioned in chapter 4, pp. 94–95, pseudocorrections are one of several components in the texts of Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙. Pseudocorrections, however, are particularly important because it is only possible to identify dialectal features in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ if the other components, including pseudocorrections, are isolated. Identifying pseudocorrections also helps to reconstruct the history of Arabic dialects. For example, there are many texts of Literary Written Middle Arabic (Hary 1992:55ff) that exhibit a mixture of Classical Arabic elements, vernacular features, pseudocorrected forms, and standardized examples of such forms. The characteristics of Middle Arabic dialects can be extracted only by isolating Classical Arabic elements, on the one hand, and pseudocorrections, on the other hand, leaving the dialectal features of the texts as the remainder. Only a careful examination of Middle Arabic texts can reveal dialectal or pseudocorrected features and distinguish between them.3 There are a number of examples of hypercorrections in the ¡ur¥˙ that might be analyzed. For example, the shift of the uvular stop /q/ to the glottal stop /ån/ (15 21b,1) ‘Canaan’; „‡ÚÏ‚ /gil>åd/ (15 22b,1) ‘Gil>ad.’1 6 1.2 The vowel /i/ or /e/ becomes lengthened [•]/[∑]: ıÈÓÁ /˙am∑ß/ (93 1,3; 1,6 and more) ‘unleavened food’; ·È¯ÈÚ />∑r∑b/1 7 (93 2,9) ‘evening’; ÔÈ¥‚ /gef∑n/ or /gefen/ (74 20,10) ‘vine’; ˙Ȉ¯Á /˙arøß∑t/ (91 10a,7) ‘Óaroset’ (chapter 4, p. 103, 1.1.7). 1.3 In Hebrew words with /ßadi/ (ˆ) that are borrowed into Egyptian Judeo-Arabic, there is evidence that speakers used the emphatic /ß/ to adapt to the Arabic phonetics: ‰ˆÓ /maßå/1 8 (3 1,11; 74 21,4) ‘matza’ and ˙ÂˆÓ /maßøt/ (3 1,8; 74 21,3) ‘matzas’; ‰ˆÓ ȈÂÓ /møßi maßå/ (74 21,4; 91 10a,2) ‘bring forth matza’; ıÈÓÁ /˙am∑ß/ (93 1,3) ‘unleavened food’; Â‡ÂˆÂ /wi-ßiwwånu/ (93 1,14) ‘and He commanded us’ (chapter 4, p. 108, 1.11.5). 1.4 Emphatization occurs in Hebrew words borrowed into JudeoArabic, thus employing a regular Arabic phonological process in line with Direction A (chapter 4, p. 108, 1.11.4). 1.4.1 /t/ > /†/: ËÚÓ ÈËÓ· /bi-mE†ei mE>a†/ (3 8,1) ‘few in number,’ although it alternates with È˙Ó· (93 22,1). 1.4.2 /z/ > /Ω/: ¯∂Ú Èχ1 9 /eli>eΩer¢/ (93 15,9) ‘Eliezer’; ‰È¯∂Ú />aΩar¢ya/ (93 15,9 and more) ‘Azarya’; ¯∂Ú Ï‡ /el>aΩar¢/ (93 15-b,10) ‘Elazar,’ although these names alternate with nonemphatic /z/: ¯ÊÚÈχ /eli>ezer¢/ 15

See also Wagner 2007:83, 144. For more examples, see chapter 4, p. 102, 1.1.5, and chapter 7, pp. 207–8, 3-2.5. Cf. Rosenbaum 2002b:36. 17 For different words such as />urubbå/, />erubbå/, and />arubbå/ in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic, see Rosenbaum 2002c:134, 4.5.3.2. 18 Rosenbaum has provided evidence that in words borrowed from Hebrew, Egyptian Jews kept the original Hebrew stress on the last syllable, unlike standard Egyptian dialect (2002c:124, 135). 19 Notice that the /eli/ in ¯∂Ú Èχ /eli>eΩer¢/ and /el/ in ¯∂Ú Ï‡ /el>aΩar¢/ are separate, as if /eli/ functions as a separate word and /el/ as the definite article. 16

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CHAPTER FIVE (3 3,10) ‘Eliezer’; ‰È¯ÊÚ />azar¢ya/ (3 3,11) ‘Azarya’; ¯ÊÚχ /el>azar¢/ (3 3,11) ‘Elazar.’ 1.4.3 /s/ > /ß/: ı¥¯Î /kar¢faß/ (74 21,2) ‘Karpas, greens for the Passover seder,’ although it alternates with nonemphatic /s/, where the emphatization does not occur: Ò¥¯Î /karfas/ (74 21,2); ˙ˆÂ¯Á /˙arøßet/ (74 21,11) and ˙Ȉ¯Á /˙arøß∑t/ (91 10a,7) ‘Óaroset,’ also alternating with ˙Ò¯Á /˙arøset/ (3 22,11); ÔÈ·ÂˆÓ /mEßub•n/ (93 48,13) ‘seated.’2 0 1.5 The shift /q/ > /∑r∑b/ (93 2,9) ‘evening.’

20 21

See chapter 4, p. 108, 1.11.4, and Hary 1999:73 for both 1.4.2 and 1.4.3. See chapter 4, pp. 96–97 and p. 106, 1.7.1.

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ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡ar˙ TRADITION 1.7 The shift /¡/ > /s/ occurs in the ¡ur¥˙ in some words borrowed from the Hebrew, but the shift is not common: Ò„˜ // (15 6b,20; 7a,16) ‘Beer-Sheba.’ In ‰·È÷ (15 4b,20) ‘old age’ the shift /¡/ > /s/ could have happened, but it can also mark the use of a Hebrew word, as is the case in ‡÷Ó (15 5a,10) ‘Masa.’2 2 2. Direction A occurs also through morphosyntactic processes. 2.1 The definite article attached to Hebrew words is the Arabic morpheme /al-/ in a morphophonemic spelling (chapter 4, 1.15), thus incorporating the Hebrew words into the Judeo-Arabic structure: χ ÌÈ˘µÏÙ (15 4b,17) ‘the concubines’; ‰„‚‰ χ (3 colophon) ‘the Haggadah’; ıÈÓÁ χ (93 1,3) ‘the unleavened’; ‰ ί· χ (93 1,12) ‘the blessing’; ˙Ò¯Á χ (3 22,8) ‘the Óaroset’; ÍÂÙ˘ χ (3 colophon) ‘the (prayer) Pour (Your Wrath)’; ˙·˘ χ (93 2,10) ‘the Shabbat’; χ ÁÈ˘Ó (3 4,4) ‘the messiah.’ 2.2 As mentioned frequently in this volume, the ¡ur¥˙ are verbatim translations of sacred texts. At times, when the Hebrew original does not have the definite article, the ¡ar˙an making the translation inserts the Arabic definite article in Direction A to adapt the translation to regular Arabic style. Thus, although in Gen 49:12 there are no definite articles preceding the nouns in the Hebrew text, ÌÈ˘ Ô·Ï ÔÈÈÓ ÌÈÈÚ ÈÏÈÏÎÁ ·ÏÁÓ ‘(his) eyes are darker than wine and (his) teeth are whiter than milk,’ the ¡ar˙an adds them in order to be in line with Arabic structure: Ô·Ï Ï‡ ÔÓ Ô‡Ò Ï‡ √ÈÈ·‡Â „È· χ ÔÓ ÔÂÈÚ Ï‡ ¯ÓÁ‡ (15 36b,16–17) ‘(his) eyes are more red than wine and (his) teeth are whiter than milk’ (chapter 8, pp. 267–68, 9-1.4–9-1.6). 2.3 The Arabic genitive marker /bEtå>/ is added to Hebrew words and phrases that are incorporated into the text in Direction A: ˙‡È¯˜ ˙˜Â Á·Âˆ χ Ú‡˙· ÚÓ˘ (93 15,3) or, with the addition of the definite article, Á·Âˆ χ Ú‡˙· Ú‡Ó˘ ˙‡È¯˜ χ ˙˜Â (74 15,3) ‘the time of reciting the 22

See Hary 1992:260, 3.7, and chapter 4, p. 110, 1.13.4.

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CHAPTER FIVE morning Shema’; ÔÈÓ˜ȥ‡ Ú‡˙· ‡ˆÓ χ (3 22,13) ‘the matza of the afikoman’ (see chapter 4, pp. 116–17, 2.1.7). 2.4 Arabic prepositions may be added to Hebrew words, incorporating them into the Judeo-Arabic text in Direction A. In the title of the ¡ar˙ of Esther, the preposition /bi/ is added after the Hebrew: ¯˙Ò‡ ˙Ï"‚Ó È·¯Ú Á¯˘· (1302 1b,1) ‘the Scroll of Esther in Arabic ¡ar˙.’ In the following example from the Haggadah, „Ú· Ô‡ÒÈ· ¯˘Ú ˙Ú·¯‡ ˙ÈÏÈÏ ˙È·¯Ú (93 1,1) ‘the night of the fourteenth of the month of Nisan after the evening prayer,’ the Arabic prepositions /bi/ ‘in’ and /ba>d/ ‘after’ flank the Hebrew word Ô‡ÒÈ ‘(the month of Nisan),’ although the latter could be considered Judeo-Arabic; /ba>d/ comes before Hebrew ˙È·¯Ú. Both the prepositions /bi/ ‘in’ and />ala/ ‘on’ are used in the following example flanking Hebrew words to incorporate them into the text: ‰Áˆ ‡ÏÚ ‰ ί· χ ˛˙¸ÂˆÓ· ‰ÎÊ˙‡ (93 1,11–12) ‘he gains (the merit of performing) the commandment of (reciting) the blessing in the right way.’ It seems that in the following example the preposition /bi/ is in Arabic: ˙·˘· ÁÒÙ ·È¯ÈÚ ÌÂÎÁÂÈ ‡≤‡ (93 2,9) ‘if the evening before Passover falls on Friday night …’ However, there is the possibility that the preposition /bi/ is indeed in Hebrew (/be-/) and that in this case the Hebrew underwent resistance and was transferred into the Arabic “as is.” In the following sentence, though, the Arabic preposition /fi/ is used to incorporate the Hebrew words into the Judeo-Arabic text: ˘„˜ÓÏ ¯ ÎÊ ÂϘȠ˙Ò¯Á χ È¥ ̉ÂÊӵȠ(3 22,10–11) ‘and dip them in the Óaroset, and recite the blessing, in memory of the Temple.’ 2.5 Arabic demonstrative pronouns are used with Hebrew words to integrate them into the Arabic text: ‰‡¡¯· χ ‰„‰ (93 1,12) ‘this blessing’; ‰„ ¯¯ÂÓ (74 10,14) ‘this bitter herb.’ 2.6 Hebrew nouns in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic seldom receive Arabic plural morphemes in Direction A: ÔÈÈϯ‡Ú2 3 ‘uncircumcised (Christian) men.’ Rosenbaum (2002c:125) has reported /mamzer•n/ ‘bastards,’

23

See Hary 1992:155 n. 119.

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ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡ar˙ TRADITION but the form alternates with /mamzer•m/ (see below, Direction B, 4). 2.7 As is common in Jewish religiolects, Hebrew roots can receive the majority language patterns, creating mixed forms (chapter 1, pp. 21–22). Thus, the Hebrew root s-d-r of ‰˘Ó ȯ„Ò ‘the sections of the Mishna’ receives interference from the Arabic plural form /fa>å>il/, resulting in Judeo-Arabic ¯„‡„Ò (74 22,16) ‘sections (of the Mishna).’2 4 Along similar lines, the Hebrew root z-k-y ‘gain’ receives interference from the Arabic and may take either a first verbal pattern, resulting in ˙ÈÎÊ /zak∑t/ (3 3,19) ‘I gained,’ or an /itfa>al/ form, resulting in ‰ÎÊ˙‡ /itzaka/ (93 1,11) ‘(he) gained’ (chapter 4, p. 132, 4.3.3). 2.8 Hebrew terms and lexical items are incorporated syntactically into the text in Direction A to be part of the Judeo-Arabic text: χ „‡Ï‡Ϡ˙‡È„‰ ̉¯·‡ ‰ËÚ Ì‰¯·‡Ï È≤χ ÌÈ˘µÏÙ (15 4b,17) ‘and to Abraham’s sons by concubines, Abraham gave gifts’; ÍÂÙ˘ χ ȷ¯Ú χ· ‰„‚‰ χ (3 colophon) ‘The Haggadah in Arabic and (the prayer) Pour (Your Wrath)’; ‰¯ÈÓÁ ÏÎ ÏÂ˜È ‡Ó Ô„· (93 2,11) ‘without reciting (the prayer in Aramaic) all kinds of leavened food’; ˙·˘ χ È¥ ÔÂÎÈ Ô‡Î‡ (93 8,15) ‘if (the Seder) falls on Shabbat’; ‰‰ ÔÓ ˘Â„˜ χ „·È ÏÂÁ ÔÂÎÈ Ô‡Î‡ (93 9,4) ‘If (the seder) falls on a regular day, (the participants) start the Sanctification from here.’ In the following example, however, the Arabic interference of the Hebrew is resisted and the Hebrew term ͯ· ˘Â„˜‰ ‡Â‰ ‘the holy One, blessed be He’ is inserted “as is,” including the Hebrew definite article /ha-/: Á·„ ‡Â‰ ͯ· ˘Â„˜‰ ‰È‚ (93 87,14) ‘and the holy One, blessed be He, came and slew.’ Cases of Interference in Direction B Unlike other Judeo-Arabic texts, the ¡ur¥˙ contains many examples of interference in Direction B where, rather than Hebrew and Aramaic components being fully incorporated into the Arabic structure, the Arabic structure instead experiences heavy interference from Hebrew 24

It is possible that in another context ¯„‡„Ò can also indicate the plural of siddur ‘prayer book.’ I thank Yona Sabar, personal communication.

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CHAPTER FIVE and Aramaic elements. Direction B occurs in the ¡ur¥˙ when important Hebrew and Aramaic texts are translated into Judeo-Arabic. In other words, the role of the community of Arabic native speakers is less significant in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ that are dependent on these Hebrew and Aramaic texts. In these cases, the language “spirit” of the ¡ur¥˙ is that of a Hebrew or Aramaic sacred Jewish text. Although the ¡ar˙anim were not native Hebrew or Aramaic speakers, they nevertheless based certain elements of the Judeo-Arabic translations quite closely on Hebrew and Aramaic, the original languages of these sacred texts. In these cases, the Arabic is prone to heavy interference in Direction B. 3. When Hebrew and Aramaic components are found in Judeo-Arabic, in most cases they undergo phonetic and phonological change in Direction A to adapt to the Arabic phonemic inventory. However, the occurrence of the phoneme /p/ in Egyptian Judeo-Arabic (chapter 4, p. 107, 1.9) is an example of Direction B. In this case, the Arabic undergoes interference from the Hebrew, does not resist the phoneme, which is not found in its phonemic inventory, and accepts it “as is.” This phoneme appears in words borrowed from the Hebrew: χ ÌÈ˘µÏÙ (15 4b,17) ‘the concubines’; Ô„Ù (15 5b,1 and more) ‘Padan’; ÌÈ˙˘ÏÙ (15 6a,5 and more) ‘Philistines’; χÈÙ (15 16b,3) ‘Peniel’; χ Èʯ٠(15 18b,9) ‘the Perizzites’; ÈËÂÙ (15 26b,12) ‘Poti’; ÁÒÙ (3 4,14 and many other places) ‘Passover’; ‰ÙÂÁ (93 90,12 and many other places) ‘marriage’; ˜ÂÒÙ (3 3,21 and many other places) ‘verse’; ‰Ú¯Ù (3 7,8 and many other places) ‘Pharaoh.’ However, the name ¯ÙÈËÂÙ ‘Potiphar’ is transferred into Judeo-Arabic in Direction A, and thus /p/ is adapted to the Arabic phonetic structure, becoming the labiodental fricative /f/: ¯¥ÈËÂ¥ /fo†ifar/ (15 23-1a,6) ‘Potiphar.’ 4. A Hebrew noun used in Judeo-Arabic does not usually receive an Arabic plural morpheme in Direction A (see above, p. 145), but is transferred into the Judeo-Arabic “as is” in Direction B with its Hebrew plural morpheme /-im/ (masculine) or /-ot/ (feminine): ÌÈ˘µÏÙ (15 4b,17) 154

ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡ar˙ TRADITION ‘concubines’; ÌÈ˙˘ÏÙ (15 6a,5 and more) ‘Philistines’; ÌÈȯˆÓ χ (91 4b,17) ‘The Egyptians,’ although it may alternate with ‰Â¯ˆÓ χ /il-mEßarwa/ (3 8,17); ÁÒÙ ÌÈÈ„ (3 4,14) ‘the laws of Passover’; ˙ÂÂˆÓ (93 1,11) ‘commandments’; ˙¯ÂÓ˘ ˙ÂˆÓ (3 1,8) ‘guarded matzas.’ 2 5 5. The Judeo-Arabic accusative marker ‰Ï‡ /ilå/ undergoes interference from Hebrew in Direction B. Consequently, in Later Egyptian JudeoArabic ¡ur¥˙, the translation of the Hebrew definite direct object marker ˙‡ as ‰Ï‡ /ilå/ is almost obligatory. See chapter 8, pp. 257–64, 8.1 for further details. 6. Many additional morphological and syntactical processes where the interference is in Direction B are reported in Hary 1999:82–88. Furthermore, part 2 of this volume presents countless examples of literal or verbatim translations from the Hebrew and Aramaic texts into Judeo-Arabic. In these verbatim translations Direction B is evident in innumerable instances.

25

For more examples, see Hary 1999:74 and Rosenbaum 2002c:125, 3.2 (/mamzer•m/ ‘bastards, illegitimate children’).

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CHAPTER FIVE Issue Three: The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon in the ¡ur¥˙ There are many Hebrew and Aramaic words that found their way into Egyptian Judeo-Arabic not only in the religious and liturgical spheres, but also in other areas (Rosenbaum 2002c:129–43). In the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ there are not many Hebrew and Aramaic words, as the ¡ar˙anim made it their point to attempt to translate every Hebrew and Aramaic word into Judeo-Arabic. This is common not only in Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙, but also in many other translations of sacred texts into various Jewish religiolects. Nonetheless, there are some instances where the Hebrew and Aramaic words are copied and inserted into the JudeoArabic ¡ur¥˙, especially proper and place names. The following paragraphs present a selection of these words. 6. There are many Hebrew and Aramaic proper names in the ¡ur¥˙. Some are adapted to varying extents to the Arabic structure through Direction A, while others are copied “as is” into the Judeo-Arabic texts in Direction B. Figure 9 in chapter 3 (p. 85) illustrates the continuum of translation from least literal to most literal, where “least literal” includes names that have been adapted to the Arabic structure in Direction A, and “most literal” includes names that have been copied “as is” into the Judeo-Arabic ¡ur¥˙ in Direction B. 2 6 6.1 Proper names transferred in Direction A have been adapted to the Arabic phonetic structure. This adaptation ranges from the spelling of the labiodental fricative /f/ with ¥ (including the supralinear dot), to the spelling of the emphatic /ß/ with ˆ, to the marking of the long vowel /å/ with an alef, and more: Ô¯¥Ú (15 5a,2 and many other places) ‘Ephron’; ¯Áˆ (15 5a,3) ‘Ío˙ar’; ¯‚‡‰ (15 5a,7) ‘Hagar’; ¯‡„˜ (15 5a,10) ‘Qedar’; ÔÂÚ¯¥ (15 31b,7 and many other places) ‘Pharaoh,’ alternating with ‰Ú¯Ù (see below, 6.2); ¥ÒÂÈ (15 31b,4 and many other places) ‘Joseph’; Ôȷ‡¯ (15 33a,2 and more) ‘Reuben’; ‡ÒÚ (15 5b,10 and more) ‘Esau,’ alternating

26

For more examples and further discussion, see chapter 3, pp. 83–85.

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ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡ar˙ TRADITION with ÂÈ˘Ú (see below, 6.2); ‡·¯Á (1302 1b,14) ‘Óarbona’; Ô¡ÂÓÓ (1302 1b,22 and more) ‘Memukhan’; È¡„¯Ó (1302 2a,17 and more) ‘Mordecai’; ¯∂Ú Èχ /eli>eΩer¢/ (93 15,9) ‘Eliezer,’ alternating with ¯ÊÚÈχ /eli>ezer¢/ (see below, 6.2); ‰È¯∂Ú />aΩar¢ya/ (93 15,9 and more) ‘Azarya,’ alternating with ‰È¯ÊÚ />azarya/ (see below, 6.2); ¯∂Ú Ï‡ /el>aΩar¢/ (93 15-b,10) ‘Elazar,’ alternating with ¯ÊÚχ /el>azar¢/ (see below, 6.2). 6.2 Proper names transferred in Direction B are copied “as is” into the Judeo-Arabic texts: ˜ÁˆÈ (15 5a,1 and many other places) ‘Isaac’; χÚÓ˘È (15 5a,2 and many other places) ‘Ishmael’; ‰¯˘ (15 5a,4 and many other places) ‘Sarah’; ˙Á (15 5a,4) ‘Óet’ (Hittite); ˙ÂÈ· (15 5a,9) ‘Nebayot’; χ·„‡ (15 5a,10) ‘Adbeel’; ÚÓ˘Ó (15 5a,10) ‘Mishma’; ‰Ó„ (15 5a,10) ‘Duma’; „„Á (15 5a,11) ‘Óadad’; ÌÈ˙˘ÏÙ (15 6a,5 and more) ‘Philistines’; ÔÈÓÈ· (15 32a,19 and more; 1302 2a,18) ‘Benjamin’; ̉¯·‡ (15 2a,1 and more; 3 6,2) ‘Abraham’; ¯ÂÁ (15 2a,8 and more; 3 6,2) ‘Na˙or’; ÔÓÂ‰Ó (1302 1b,14) ‘Mehuman’; ‡˙Ê· (1302 1b,14) ‘Bizzta’; ‡˙‚· (1302 1b,14) ‘Bigta’; ¯˙Ê (1302 1b,15) ‘Zetar’; ¯È‡È (1302 2a,17) ‘Yair’; ÈÚÓ˘ (1302 2a,17) ‘Shimi’; ˘È˜ (1302 2a,17) ‘Qish’; ¯˙Ò‡ (1302 2b,2 and more) ‘Esther’; ÔÓ‰ (1302 3a,4 and more) ‘Haman’; ‰Ú¯Ù (3 7,8 and more) ‘Pharaoh,’ alternating with ÔÂÚ¯¥ (see above, 6.1); ¯ÊÚÈχ /eli>ezer/ (3 3,10) ‘Eliezer,’ alternating with ¯∂Ú Èχ /eli>eΩer¢¢/ (see above, 6.1); ‰È¯ÊÚ />azarya/ (3 3,11) ‘Azarya,’ alternating with ‰È¯∂Ú />aΩar¢ya/ (see above, 6.1); ¯ÊÚχ /el>azar/ (3 3,11) ‘Elazar,’ alternating with ¯∂Ú Ï‡ /el>aΩar¢¢/ (see above, 6.1); Ú˘Â‰È (3 5,20 and more) ‘Joshua’; Á¯˙ (3 6,2) ‘Tera˙’; ÂÈ˘Ú (3 6,8 and more) and Â÷Ú (93 19,9 and more) ‘Esau,’ alternating with ‡ÒÚ (see above, 6.1). 6.3 Place names transferred in Direction A have been adapted to Arabic phonetics, either by lengthening the vowel /a/ to /å/ and marking it with an alef, or by marking the labiodental fricative /f/ with ¥, using the supralinear dot, as well as by other means:

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CHAPTER FIVE ¯‡¯‚ (15 6b,10 and other places) ‘Gerar’; ‰Ú·˘ (15 7a,15) ‘Shib>a’; Ú·˘ ¯È· (15 7a,16) ‘Bir Sheba>’; ‡¯ÓÓ (15 5a,3) ‘Mamre’; Ô‡ÚÎ (15 34a,1 and more) ‘Canaan,’ alternating with ÔÚÎ (see below, 6.4); ˙¯¥‡ (15 35b,14 and more) ‘Ephrat’; ˜¯· ¯„‡· (3 3,12–13) ‘Bnei Braq.’ 6.4 Place names transferred in Direction B are copied “as is” into the Judeo-Arabic texts: ‡¯ÓÓ (15 5a,3) ‘Mamre’; ¯Â˘ (15 5a,15) ‘Shur’; ̯‡ Ô„Ù (15 5b,1) ‘Padan-Aram’; ˜÷Ú (15 6b,15) ‘Eseq’; ‰Ë÷ (15 6b,17) ‘Si†na’; χ¯˘È (15 16a,20 and more; 3 2,5 and more) ‘Israel’; Ԣ¢ (1302 1b,4 and more) ‘Shushan’; ÌÈÏ˘Â¯È (1302 2a,18) ‘Jerusalem’; ‰„Â‰È (1302 2b,1) ‘Judah’; Ï·· (1302 2b,1) ‘Babylon’; Ԣ‚ (3 7,19 and more) ‘Goshen,’ although it is also translated ‰ÊÈ‚ (15 31b,20 and more) ‘Giza’; ÔÚÎ (3 7,18 and more) ‘Canaan,’ alternating with Ô‡ÚÎ (see above 6.3); ¯ÈÚ˘ (3 6,9) and ¯ÈÚ÷ (93 19,10) ‘Se>ir’; ÈÈÒ (3 16,20 and more) ‘Sinai.’ 7. Liturgical and religious terms: ¯¥Ò (15 title) ‘book’ (religious);2 7 ÔÒÈ (1302 3a,12) and Ô‡ÒÈ (93 1,1) ‘(month of) Nisan’; ¯„‡ (1302 3a,14; 3b,6 and more) ‘(month of) Adar’; ÔÂÈÒ (1302 6a,7) ‘(month of) Sivan’; ¯¯ÂÓ (3 2,15) ‘bitter herbs’; Ú‡Ó˘ (74 2,1) alternating with ÚÓ˘ (3 3,15) ‘the prayer of the Shema’; ÁÈ˘Ó (3 4,4) ‘messiah’; ÁÒÙ ÌÈÈ„ (3 4,14) ‘the Laws of Passover’; ÁÒÙ Ô·¯Â˜ (3 4,15) ‘the sacrifice of Passover’; ÔÈÓ˜ȥ‡ (3 22,13 and more) ‘afikoman’; ˙¯ÂÓ˘ ˙ÂˆÓ (3 1,8) ‘guarded matzas’; ˜ÂÒÙ (3 3,21 and many other places) ‘verse’; ı¥¯Î (74 21,2) /karfaß/ ‘Karpas’ (greens for the Passover Seder), alternating with Ò¥¯Î /karfas/ (74 21,2); ˙ˆÂ¯Á /˙arøßet/ (74 21,11) ‘Óaroset,’ alternating with ˙Ȉ¯Á /˙arøß∑t/ (91 10a,7); ‰ÏÈÓ (93 91,5) ‘circumcision’; ‰ÙÂÁ (93 90,12) ‘marriage’; χ¯÷È Ë·˘ (93 93,11) ‘Israelite tribe’ or ‘tribe of Israel’; ‡Â‰ ͯ· ˘Â„˜‰ (93 87,14) ‘the holy One, blessed be He’; χ

27

See also Rosenbaum 2002c:134.

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ADDITIONAL LINGUISTIC ISSUES OF THE ¡ar˙ TRADITION ˙·˘ (93 8,15) and ˙‡·˘ /¡abbåt/ (93 2,12) ‘(the) Shabbat, (the) Saturday’; ÏÂÁ (93 9,4) ‘a regular day’; Ò„˜ /al verbal prefix as a JudeoArabic imperfect first person plural verbal prefix /n-/, thus changing the meaning slightly. This is done in order to achieve a verbatim translation (chapter 8, p. 217, 4-2.2). ‰ÏÙÎÓ‰ ˙¯ÚÓ (Gen 25:9) ‘the cave of Machpela’ is translated by a Judeo-Arabic calque: ‰È˙Ó Ï‡ ˙¯‡µÓ (15 5a,2) ‘the cave of the double.’ In this case the Hebrew ‰ÏÙÎÓ is translated verbatim into Judeo-Arabic ‰È˙Ó to indicate the meaning of the name in a calque translation (chapter 9, pp. 322–23). ȇ] ÈÁÏ ¯‡· (Gen 25:11) ‘Be>er La˙ai Ro>i’ is translated word for word by the ¡ar˙an into È‡¯∂ ÈÈÁ χ ¯È· (15 5a,6) ‘a well of the living, seeing.’ It is clear that this phrase does not make sense on its own; it is nonetheless a calque translation of the Hebrew place name (chapter 9, p. 323). ¯˘‡Î (Gen 24:22 and other places) ‘when, where, as’ is analyzed by the ¡ar˙an as consisting of two morphemes: ≠Î and ¯˘‡; thus the conjunction is translated verbatim into Judeo-Arabic, also with the two attached morphemes, /ka-/ and /allaƒ•/, resulting in È≤χΠ(15 3a,4 and other places) ‘when.’ In Esther the conjunction is also rendered as a calque translation, but in a more analytic structure: È≤χ ‡ÓÎ (1302 2b,22 and more) ‘when’ (chapter 8, p. 232, 5-2.3).

Esther: • ‰Ò„‰ (Esth 2:7) ‘Hadassah’ is rendered ‡ÈÒ¯Ó (1302 2b,1) ‘Mars•na’ 180

APPLYING THE MODEL

•

(myrtle). The ¡ar˙an actually transferred the meaning of the Hebrew name ‘Hadassah’ (myrtle) into the Judeo-Arabic calque translation (see chapter 9, p. 323, 13-6.8). The Hebrew name ‡˙„Ó‰ ‘Hammedatha’ (Esth 9:10) is rendered χ ‡˙„Ó (1302 7a,1) ‘the Medatha.’ The ¡ar˙an has mistakenly interpreted the Hebrew name as having two morphemes: the definite article /ha-/ and the name ‡˙„Ó, and thus translated it accordingly (see chapter 7, p. 191, n. 3).

Haggadah: • „‚Î ‘as against’ is reflected verbatim in „‡ˆÂ˜Î (3 4,8), clearly a calque translation (see chapter 8, p. 224, 5-1.15). • Hebrew „ÂÚ·Ó ‘whilst’ has the Judeo-Arabic equivalent ÔÈÁ· ÔÓ (3 5,13), composed of three parts (see chapter 8, pp. 224–25, 5-1.16). • ‰ÓΠ‰ÓÎ ˙Á‡ ÏÚ ‘how much more so?’ is reflected literally in the ¡ar˙: ˘È‡ „˜Â ˘È‡ „˜ ‰„Á‡Â ‰ÏÚ (3 17,5), where each of the Hebrew words has a Judeo-Arabic equivalent. • ˙È·‰ ˙¯˜Ú ‘the mistress of the house’ is reflected verbatim in ˙ÓÈ˜Ú ˙È· χ (3 20,10), where the ¡ar˙an has translated Hebrew ˙¯˜Ú into ‰ÓÈ˜Ú ‘sterile,’ using its root ‘sterile, barren.’ This is indeed the intended meaning in Ps 113; however, in modern Hebrew the meaning has changed into ‘the mistress of the house.’ • „‡Ó È˙ÈÚ È‡ ‘I am greatly afflicted’ is translated literally as ‡‡ Ș ˙·Â‡‚ (3 24,20) ‘I greatly answered.’ The Hebrew verb È˙ÈÚ stems from the root >-n-h, which can mean both ‘poor’ and ‘answer.’ The ¡ar˙an has chosen the second meaning and arrived at the bizarre calque translation (chapter 7, pp. 201–2, 3-1.5).

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CHAPTER SIX The Organization of the Examples The organization of the examples according to the categories presented in table 4 facilitates the examination of the literal/interpretive linguistic tension as well as the translation mechanisms (A and B). In the following chapters of part 2, I cite examples of literal translations (Lit.) as well as interpretive translation (Int.) for each feature. Following the literal and the interpretive examples, I present cases, when possible, that illustrate both literal and interpretive elements at the same time (L/I). Seldom do I use the same example to illustrate different features. Obviously, for reasons of space and redundancy, not all the examples that can be extracted from the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ can be presented, but usually at least three examples from each text for every feature are offered. The examples are taken from Genesis, Esther, and the Passover Haggadah and presented in that order. The organization of the examples employs a numbering system that follows table 4 (pp. 81–82). Each feature is divided into three parts: literal translation (Lit.), interpretive translation (Int.) and literal/ interpretive translation (L/I). The examples are marked in consecutive numbers; thus the examples of Level: Morphosyntactic; Category: Verb Conjugation; Feature 7-1: Infinitives, for instance, are numbered from 7-1.1 through 7-1.15, where 7-1.1 through 7-1.8 are examples of literal translation, 7-1.9 through 7-1.12 are examples of interpretive translations, and 7-1.13 through 7-1.15 demonstrate the literal/interpretive translation with its linguistic tension (chapter 8, pp. 250–56). In order to facilitate reading the text and finding the various examples, the headers of the odd-numbered pages in chapters 7 through 9 change in order to indicate the various features that are discussed within each chapter. Thus, the reader can use the headers as a guide to the contents of each chapter, reducing the constant need to refer to table 4. For purposes of comparison, when deemed necessary, both Saadia Gaon’s translation (Derenbourg 1893) and the Protestant Arabic translation of the Bible (Al-Kitåb al-Muqaddas 2004) are provided.

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CHAPTER SEVEN THE PHRASE AND THE WORD LEVELS This chapter analyzes the ¡ur¥˙ of Genesis, Esther, and the Passover Haggadah, scanning selected examples through the phrase and word levels. Based on the theoretical model of the analysis of the ¡ar˙, including table 4, presented in chapter 3 (pp. 81–82), many examples of the different categories and features appear below. Note the explanation of the organization of the examples at the end of chapter 6 (p. 182). Note also that the headers on the odd-numbered pages of this chapter include, in addition to the name of the chapter as in the rest of the volume, the various features discussed on the relevant pages for easier referencing. Word-for-Word Translation Level: Phrase; Category 1 Feature 1-1 — Word-for-word translation Lit.: The following examples are word-for-word translations, which are typical of the ¡ar˙: (1-1.1) In Genesis: The translation of Ϙ˘ ˙›‡Ó Ú·¯‡ ı¯‡ ÈÚÓ˘ ÈI‡ ¯›·˜ Í˙Ó ˙‡Â ‡È‰ ‰Ó ÍÈ·Â ÈÈ· ÛÒÎ (Gen 23:15) into Judeo-Arabic ‰Ï‡Â ‡È‰ ˘È‡ ÍÈ·Â ÈÈ· ‰ƒ¥ χ˜˙Ó ˙È‡Ó Ú·¯‡ √¯‡ ‰ÚÓÒ‡ È„ÈÒ Ô¥„‡ ¬˙ÈÈÓ (15 2a,1-2) ‘My master, hear us! Land worth four hundred silver (coins), what is it between me and you? (Go and) bury your dead’ is a clear word-for-word translation with the exception of the first plural pronominal suffix /-na/ in ‰ÚÓÒ‡, rather than the singular pronoun /-ni/ in the Hebrew ÈÚÓ˘. Both Saadia and the Protestant translation of the Bible

CHAPTER SEVEN offer more interpretive translations for this verse. Saadia in his translation, »‰ƒÙ χ˜«˙Ó »‰È‡Ó Ú·¯‡ ȇÒ˙ »‰ƒÂ¯ ÈÓ ÚÓÒ‡ È„ÈÒ ‡È Í˙ÈÓ ‡‰ÈÙ ÔÙ„‡ ÍÈ·Â ÈÈ· ȉ ‡Ó, added a few words after /isman• ar∂un bi-arba>i mida mawt ummihi/ ‘after his mother’s death’ interpretively. Int.: On the other hand, at times the ¡ar˙an has added to the translation interpretive words lacking in the Hebrew original. (1-1.5) In Genesis: The sentence Â˙˘‡ ‰˜·¯ ¯‰˙ ߉ ÂÏ ¯˙ÚÈ (Gen 25:21) in the ¡ar˙ is an interpretive translation. In his translation Â˙‡¯Ó ˙„Ï ˙Ï·Á ‰Ïχ Â˙‡Ïˆ Ï·˜Â (15 5b,3) ‘God accepted his prayer, and his (Isaac’s) wife became pregnant and gave birth,’ the ¡ar˙an “explained” Hebrew ¯˙ÀÚÈ ‘allowed Himself to be entreated’ as Â˙‡Ïˆ Ï·˜Â ‘accepted his prayer’; he did not mention 186

THE PHRASE AND THE WORD LEVELS: WORD-FOR-WORD TRANSLATION Rebecca by her name although it was mentioned in the Hebrew text, and he added ˙„Ï ‘and she gave birth’ for clarification. In ‰Ïχ „Ú ÔÓ ¯Ó‡ ·ÂÏË˙Ï ˙Á‡¯Â (15 5b,5) ‘she went to ask God (about) the issue,’ the ¡ar˙an added the noun ¯Ó‡ ‘issue’ in order to clarify the Hebrew equivalent, ߉ ˙‡ ˘¯„Ï ÍÏ˙ (Gen 25:22). Similarly, the Judeo-Arabic sentence ÔÓÊ ¯‰˘ ‰È‡ÚÓ „ÂÚ˜Â˙ (15 10b,11–12) ‘and stay with me a month’s time’ is a clear interpretation of the Hebrew equivalent ÌÈÓÈ ˘„›Á ÂÓÚ ·˘È (Gen 29:14) ‘and he stayed with him for a month.’ First, in the Judeo-Arabic translation the person is changed, from the third (·˘ÈÂ) to the second („ÂÚ˜Â˙) and in another place from the third (ÂÓÚ) to the first (‰È‡ÚÓ), using direct speech; and second, the translation of ÌÈÓÈ ‘days’ is expressed as ÔÓÊ ‘time’ in the JudeoArabic ¡ar˙. (1-1.6) In Esther: The translation χ ÔÈÓ„‡¡ ԇȷˆ χ Âχ˜Â Ô‡ Â‰Ï Ô‡ËÏÒ (1302 2a,12) ‘The courtiers who served the ruler said …’ does not follow the Hebrew ÂÈ˙¯˘Ó ÍÏÓ‰ ȯÚ ¯ӇÈ (Esth 2:2) word for word, in a probable attempt to clarify it. Similarly, in ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ˙È· ‡Ï‡ Ô‡ÓÎ È‚˙ ÌÏ (1302 2b,13) ‘she would not come again to the king’s house,’ translating the Hebrew ÍÏÓ‰ χ „ÂÚ ‡Â·˙ ‡Ï (Esth 2:14), the ¡ar˙an added the word /b∑t/ ‘house’ in an interpretive manner. Likewise, the phrase ÈÈÓÈ Ï‚¯ (1302 2a,17–18) may seem at first glance to be a literal translation of ÈÈÓÈ ˘È‡ ‘a Benjaminite’ (Esth 2:5), but the addition of ÔÈÓÈ· Ë·Ò ÔÓ (1302 2a,18) ‘from the tribe of Benjamin’ is clearly interpretive, so that readers would fully understand the phrase. (1-1.7) In the Haggadah: „‡Ï‡ ÂÂÎ χ¯˘È √¯‡ È¥ ‰È‡‚ χ ‰Ò Ï‡ ÔȘÂ˙ÚÓ (3 2,6–7) ‘next year we will be free children in the Land of Israel.’ Clearly this sentence does not follow the Hebrew verbatim, ÔȯÂÁ È· ‰‡·‰ ‰˘Ï. The ¡ar˙an “explained” the context by adding the phrase ÂÂÎ χ¯˘È √¯‡ È¥ ‘in the Land of Israel we 187

CHAPTER SEVEN will be …’ for clarification. The deviation from the literal translation may reflect the need to adjust the translation to a different readership: the biblical text is composed for the people in the Land of Israel, whereas the Judeo-Arabic Haggadah translation is for the people in the Diaspora, hence the need to add the phrase ÂÂÎ χ¯˘È √¯‡ È¥ ‘in the Land of Israel we will be …’ It is common to find that the Hebrew ¯Ó‡˘ and ¯Ó‡˘ ‰ÓÎ are translated into the Judeo-Arabic ¡ar˙ as ˜ÂÒ٠χ χ˜ ‡ÓÎ (3 3,21 and many other places) ‘as the (biblical) verse reads’ in an interpretive translation by adding the word ˜ÂÒ٠χ ‘the verse’ (see also below, p. 211, 3-2.21). Furthermore, ··Ò χ ˘‡ (3 2,8) ‘what is the reason?’ This phrase translates the Hebrew ‰Ó ‘what’ in a nonverbatim manner for emphasis and clarification. Moreover, in an interpretation of the Hebrew ¯Â·„‰ ÈÙ≠ÏÚ ÒÂ‡ ‘compelled by the word,’ the ¡ar˙an wrote in Judeo-Arabic ˜Ï‡¡ χ Ϙ ‰ÏÚ ·ÂˆµÓ (3 7,14) ‘compelled by the creator’s words.’ L/I: (1-1.8) The Hebrew phrase ÁÈ˘Ó‰ ˙ÂÓÈ ‘the days of the Messiah’ is translated literally in ms. 93 15,16 ÁÈ˘Ó Ï‡ ̇Èȇ; however, it is interpreted in ms. 3 4,4 ÁÈ˘Ó Ï‡ ˙˜Â ‘the time of the Messiah.’ In ms. 74 2,6 both options are used in an interpretive mode: ÁÈ˘Ó Ï‡ ̇Èȇ ˙˜Â ‘the time of the days of the Messiah.’ Word Order: Syntactic Adaptation Level: Phrase; Category 2: Word Order Feature 2-1 — Syntactic adaptation Lit.: It is usual in the ¡ar˙ to find the verb preceding its subject in typical VSO Arabic word order when this is also the case in the Hebrew original. For example, both /wa-˙alifu/ ‘and they swore’ and /wa-rasalhum/ ‘and (he) sent them’ precede their respective subjects /rågil/ ‘man’ and ‘Isaac’ in ̉Ïү ‰Â¡‡Ï Ï‚‡¯ Â¥ÈÏÁÂ

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THE PHRASE AND THE WORD LEVELS: SYNTACTIC ADAPTATION ˜ÁˆÈ (15 7a,12) ‘and they swore to one another and then Isaac sent them away,’ following similar word order in the Hebrew verse ˜ÁˆÈ ÌÁÏ˘È ÂÈÁ‡Ï ˘È‡ ÂÚ·˘È (Gen 26:31). However, the morphosyntactic adaptation of the Hebrew text does not extend to the number of the verb, as the verb Â¥ÈÏÁ /wa-˙alifu/ ‘and they swore’ is in the plural, following literally its Hebrew equivalent ÂÚ·˘ÈÂ. Moreover, if the Hebrew original exhibits an SVO word order, where the verb follows the subject, the ¡ar˙an has not adapted it syntactically to the Arabic but has translated this word order verbatim in an SVO word order, as the following examples show. (2-1.1) In Genesis: In the translation of Gen 24:35 ˙‡ ͯ· ߉ „‡Ó È„‡, a similar SVO word order is revealed in the ¡ar˙: ‰Ïχ È˜ È„ÈÒ ‰Ï‡ ¬¯‡· (15 3b,2) ‘and God greatly blessed my master.’ In the same way the SVO word order occurs in ‰Ï‡ ¥Ï¡ Ô‡˘˜È ‡·˘ (15 4b,13) ‘and Yokshan begot Sheba’ in order to slavishly follow the Hebrew ‡·˘ ˙‡ „ÏÈ Ô˘˜È (Gen 25:3). The same applies to ·Â˜ÚÈ ‰Ï‡ ˙·Á ‰˜·¯Â (15 5b,15) ‘and Rebecca loved Jacob,’ which follows the same SVO word order of the Hebrew ‰˜·¯Â ·SÚÈ ˙‡ ˙·‰›‡ (Gen 25:28). (2-1.2) In Esther: ¯ˆ˜ χ Ԣ¢ È¥ Ô‡Î È„Â‰È Ï‚¯ (1302 2a,17) ‘There was a Jewish man in Shushan, the capital’ contains the same SVO word order of the Hebrew in Esth 2:5, ‰È‰ È„Â‰È ˘È‡ ‰¯È·‰ Ԣ¢·. Likewise, the Judeo-Arabic text keeps the Hebrew SVO word order in ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ¯Ó‡· ÔÈÚÂÙ„Ó Â‚¯¡ ÔÈȇ¯‚ χ (1302 3b,8) ‘The runners went out, rushed by the king’s command’ in a literal translation. Similar is the SVO word order in both χ ‡ËÚ‡ ¯Ó‡ (1302 3b,8) ‘the command was given’ and in ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ÂÙÈÈÎ˙È ÂÒÏ‚ ÔӉ (1302 3b,8–9) ‘the king and Haman were sitting and enjoying themselves,’ following the original Hebrew texts ‰˙ ˙„‰Â and ˙Â˙˘Ï ·˘È ÔӉ ÍÏӉ (Esth 3:15) respectively. (2-1.3) In the Haggadah: ¯ˆÓ È¥ ÔÂÚ¯¥Ï ‰ÂÎ „È·Ú (3 2,19) ‘we were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt’ exhibits SVO word order just 189

CHAPTER SEVEN like the Hebrew original, ÌȯˆÓ· ‰Ú¯ÙÏ ÂÈȉ ÌÈ„·Ú. Similarly, in χ ÂÏÂ˜È ‰ÓÏÂÚ (3 4,2–3) ‘and the sages say,’ the verb follows its subject to imitate Hebrew word order: ÌȯÓ‡ ÌÈÓÎÁÂ. In the same way, the verb in ¯ˆÓ ÂÏÊ „‡Ï‡ (91 3a,5) ‘and his children went down into Egypt’ follows the subject in an SVO word order, just like the Hebrew original, ÌȯˆÓ „¯È ÂÈ·Â. This type of verbatim translation and avoidance of syntactic adaptation in the Judeo-Arabic structure may even occur when the Hebrew original uses an unusual word order for emphasis or stylistic reasons, as in the following examples with OV word order. (2-1.4) In Genesis: The Hebrew word order OV in Ô˙ ˙$„‚Ó ‰Ó‡Ï ‰ÈÁ‡Ï ‘and he gave gifts to her brother and her mother’ (Gen 24:53) is retained in the ¡ar˙ in a verbatim translation, ‡‰Ó‡Ï ‡‰Â·‡Ï ÏÚ‚ ˙‡È„‰Â (15 4a,10–11) ‘and he gave gifts to her father 1 and her mother.’ The same applies to ԇȄ‚ „ÂÏ‚ ‰Ï‡Â ‰È„ȇ ‰ÏÚ ˙Ò·Ï ÊÚ‡Ó Ï‡ (15 7b,20–8a,1) ‘with the skins of the goat-kids she dressed his arms,’ where the OV word order follows the same word order as in ÂÈ„È ÏÚ ‰˘È·Ï‰ ÌÈÊÚ‰ ÈÈ„‚ ˙]›Ú ˙‡Â (Gen 27:16). Similarly, the OV word order in ¬Ï Â˙ÏÚ‚ „ÈÒ (15 8b,12) ‘a master have I installed over you’ follows the Hebrew OV word order in ÍÏ ÂÈ˙Ó˘ ¯È·‚ (Gen 27:37). (2-1.5) In Esther: The ¡ar˙an has employed OV word order in ‡‰˙˜È¥¯Ï ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ÈËÚÈ ‡‰˙ËÏÒ (1302 2a,6) ‘and the queenship will the king give to her friend,’ in order to translate the Hebrew OV word order in ‰˙ÂÚ¯Ï ÍÏÓ‰ Ô˙È ‰˙ÂÎÏÓ (Esth 1:19). In ˙¯˘Ú ‰Úˆ χ È≤‡‰ ÔÈÚ‡ˆ „È ‡ÏÚ Ôʇ ‰ƒ¥ χ˜˙Ó ¥‡Ï‡ (1302 3a,17–18) 1

The word /li-ab¥ha/ ‘to her father’ in ‡‰Ó‡Ï ‡‰Â·‡Ï ÏÚ‚ ˙‡È„‰Â (15 4a,10–11) ‘and he gave gifts to her father and her mother’ mistranslates the Hebrew ‰ÈÁ‡Ï ‘to her brother’ (Gen 24:53). Later in the chapter, this mistake does not occur in χ˜Â ‡‰Ó‡ ‡‰Â¡‡ (15 4a,13–14) ‘her brother and mother said,’ translating the Hebrew ‰Óœ‡Â ‰ÈÁ‡ ¯Ó‡È (Gen 24:55). See Hary 2009, chapter 3, “Mistakes and Omissions in the Texts.”

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THE PHRASE AND THE WORD LEVELS: SYNTACTIC ADAPTATION ‘I will weigh out ten thousand miskals2 of silver into the hands of those who are engaged in this business,’ the ¡ar˙an has used OV word order to imitate the Hebrew original in ¯ÎÎ ÌÈÙχ ˙¯˘Ú ‰Î‡ÏÓ‰ È◊›Ú È„È ÏÚ Ï˜˘‡ ÛÒÎ (Esth 3:9). A similar OV word order is employed in ÂÏ˙˜ „Â‰È Ï‡ Â„Ú ‡˙„Ó Ï‡ Ô·‡ ÔÓ‰ „‡Ï‡ ˙¯˘Ú (1302 7a,1) ‘The ten sons of Haman, son of Madatha, enemy of the Jews, they killed,’ following the Hebrew in Ô· ÔÓ‰ È· ˙¯◊Ú Â‚¯‰ ÌȄ‰ȉ ¯¯›ˆ ‡˙„Ó‰ (Esth 9:10).3 (2-1.6) In the Haggadah: The Hebrew word order OVS in ¯‚ ÍÚ¯Ê ‰È‰È ‘your seed will be a stranger’ (although ¯‚ is technically a predicate) is translated verbatim in the ¡ar˙: ¬ÏÒ ÔÂÎÈ ·È¯µ (3 6,16) ‘your seed will be a stranger,’ in a similar unusual OVS word order. Similarly, the Hebrew OV word order in ÁӈΠ‰··¯ ÍÈ˙˙ ‰„˘‰ is transferred intact into the Judeo-Arabic with the same OV word order ¬˙ÏÚ‚ Ëȵ χ ˙‡·Î ‰Â·¯ (3 8,12–13) ‘I have made you multiply ten thousand like the vegetation of the field.’ In the same way, the word order in the Hebrew Â˜Ï Ìȉ ÏÚ ˙ÂÎÓ ÌÈ˘œÓÁ, where the locative precedes the verb for emphasis, is strictly imitated in the Judeo-Arabic ¡ar˙ ·¯ƒ‡ ¯Á· χ ‰ÏÚ ‰·¯ƒ ÔÈÒÓ¡ (3 14,7–8) ‘and over the sea they (the Egyptians) were smitten with fifty plagues.’ The avoidance of syntactic adaptation of the Judeo-Arabic structure may sometimes cause slight misunderstandings of the text, as in the following example: (2-1.7) The phrase ÂÏ ˙„Ï ‘bore to him’ in ¯ÂÁ Ô·‡ χÂ˙· ˙· ‰ÎÏÓ ÂÏ ˙„Ï È≤χ (15 4a,1) ‘the daughter of Bethuel, the son of 2

3

A miskal is a measure of weight; in Egypt one miskal is equivalent to 4.68 grams. ‡˙„Ó Ï‡ can be considered a calque translation, as it translates the Hebrew name ‡˙„Ó‰ ‘Hammedatha.’ The ¡ar˙an has mistakenly interpreted the Hebrew name as having two morphemes: the definite article /ha-/ and the name. See chapter 6, p. 181, and Hary 2009, chapter 3, “Mistakes and Omissions in the Texts.”

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CHAPTER SEVEN Nahor, whom Milcah (his wife) bore to him’ is an exact rendition of the Hebrew ÂÏ ‰„ÏÈ (Gen 24:47) without any syntactic adaptation. Saadia (‰Ï ‰˙„ÏÂ) and the Protestant translation (t?? ?! t?? ðb?? ?!Ë) employed syntactic adaptation by adding the ‘returning’ pronoun (/al->å/ in ‰Á¯ËÓ È¥ ÚˆÈ ÌÏ (15 11a,6–7) ‘(it) will not be done in our place’ renders ‰˘ÀÚÈ" (Gen 29:26). (11-3.2) In Esther: The passive ·˙ÎÈ /yinkitib/ renders verbatim in È„Ó ү٠Úȇ¯˘ È¥ ·˙ÎÈ (1302 2a,5) ‘let it be written in the laws of Persia and Media’ its Hebrew equivalent in È˙„· ·˙ÀkÈ ȄÓ ү٠(Esth 1:19). Similar are the following passive forms: ÌÎÁ‡ /in˙akam/ in ‡‰ÈÏÚ ÌÎÁ‡ È≤χ (1302 2a,12) ‘and what had been decreed against her,’ translating ¯Ê‚ (Esth 2:1) and ÚÓÒ‡ /insama>/ in ¬ÏÓ Ï‡ ¯Ó‡ ÚÓÒ‡ ‡ÓÏ (1302 2b,3) ‘When the king’s order was heard,’ rendering ÚÓ,˘‰œ · (Esth 2:8). (11-3.3) In the Haggadah: χ˜˙ /tinal form, passive participle, and more: (11-3.4) In Genesis, using the form itfa>al: ‡‰ ÂÚÓ‚˙‡Â (15 10a,13) ‘and (they) were gathered here’ translates ‰Ó˘ ÂÙÒ‡ (Gen 29:3); ¯‡Ó˙Ï ¯·¡˙‡Â (15 23a,15–16) ‘and Tamar was told’ translates ¯Ó˙Ï „‚'È (Gen 38:13); and ‰‚ ÔÓ Âω·˙‡ (15 31b,9) ‘(they) were scared of his face’ renders ÂÈÙÓ Âω· (Gen 45:3). In ·ˆËÓ ÌÏÒ ‰„‰ (15 9b,9) ‘and here a ladder is set,’ the ¡ar˙an has used a passive participle to translate ÌÏÒ ‰‰Â ·ˆ‹Ó (Gen 28:12). (11-3.5) In Esther, using the form itfa>al: ÌÈÏ˘Â¯È ÔÓ ˙˙˘˙‡ (1302 2a,18) ‘(he) was exiled from Jerusalem’ translates ‰Ï‚À‰ ÌÈÏ˘Â¯ÈÓ (Esth 2:5); ‡ÏÓ˙‡ (1302 3a,10; 4b,5) ‘(he) was filled’ renders ‡ÏÀÓÈ (Esth 3:5; 5:9); and ‰„˙‡ (1302 3b,1) ‘(they) were called’ translates ‡¯∆JÈ$ (Esth 3:12). The ¡ar˙an has also used the passive participle: „ÿ¯¥Ó ˙ÿ˙˘Ó (1302 3a,15) ‘scattered and dispersed’ renders „¯ÙÓ ¯Ê‹ÙÓ (Esth 3:8). Furthermore, in the following verse it is possible that the Judeo-Arabic internal passive, an unusual feature in the religiolect, is employed: ̇Èȇ χ ¯‡·¡‡ ·‡˙Πȥ ·˙· ‰·˘¡ χ ‡ÏÚ Ì‰È˙‡ ·ψ‡Â (1302 3a,2–3) ‘and the two of them were hanged on a stake and it was recorded in the book of the history of days,’ translating verbatim the two Hebrew passive verbs ÂÏ,zÈ and ·˙ÀkÈ (Esth 2:23). (11-3.6) In the Haggadah, using the form itfa>al: ˙Ï˙Ó‡ /imtalit/ in ̉Ó √¯‡ χ ˙Ï˙Ӈ (3 8,9–10) ‘and the land was filled with them’ translates Hebrew ‡ÏÀnz! . The passive participle ·ÂˆµÓ /ma\ߥb/ in ˜Ï‡¡ χ Ϙ ‰ÏÚ ·ÂˆµÓ (3 7,14) ‘compelled by the word of the creator’ renders literally the Hebrew ÒÂ‡. Int.: On the other hand, at times the ¡ar˙an has chosen not to translate a Hebrew passive by a Judeo-Arabic passive for interpretive or stylistic reasons. The following are some examples.

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THE MORPHOSYNTACTIC LEVEL: PASSIVE (11-3.7) In Genesis: In ¬Ï ˙·È‚ È≤χ È˙ί· ‰Ï‡ ԇχ „¡ (15 17a,3) ‘take now my blessing which (I) brought to you,’ the ¡ar˙an has used the active verb ˙·È‚ /gibt/ ‘(I) brought’ to translate the Hebrew passive in ÍÏ ˙‡À·‹‰ ¯˘‡ È˙ί· ˙‡ ‡ Á˜ ‘please accept my gift which has been brought to you’ (Gen 33:11). (11-3.8) In Esther: The Hebrew passive verb ‰‡¯˜ ‘(she) was summoned’ (Esth 2:14) is not rendered as passive in the JudeoArabic ¡ar˙, ÌÒ‡· ‡‰‰„È (1302 2b,14) ‘and (he) calls her by name.’ (11-3.9) In the Haggadah: In many places the ¡ar˙an has translated the Hebrew passive ¯Ó‡˘ ‰ÓÎ ‘as it was said’ into Judeo-Arabic active voice, for example in ˜ÂÒ٠χ χ˜ ‡ÓÎ (3 8,2) ‘as the verse said.’ The ¡ar˙an infrequently has chosen to employ the JudeoArabic passive, although the Hebrew original does not have it: (11-3.10) In Genesis: The ¡ar˙an has employed the form VII verbal pattern infa>al in ȯ·˙ (15 2b,4) ‘(you) are exonerated’ to translate the Hebrew active ˙Ș ‘(you) will be clear’ (Gen 24:8). (11-3.11) In Esther: The use of the Judeo-Arabic passive /yuf>al/ ‘will be done’ in È˙˘Â ‰ÎÏÓ Ï‡ È¥ ÏÚ¥ÂÈ ‡≤‡Ó (1302 1b,21–22) ‘what will be done with Queen Vashti’ is interpretive, as it translates a Hebrew infinitive construct in È˙˘Â ‰ÎÏÓ· ˙¢ÚÏ ‰Ó (Esth 1:15). (11-3.12) In the Haggadah, the passive verb ·¯ƒ‡ /in∂arabu/ in ¯ˆÓ È¥ ÔÈȯˆÓ χ ·¯ƒ‡ (3 14,6) ‘The Egyptians were smitten in Egypt’ translates the Hebrew active verb Â˜Ï ‘(they) suffered.’ Similar is ¯Â„‡ /indawwar/ (3 20,15) ‘(it) was turned,’ translating the Hebrew active verb ·›Ò$È. L/I: (11-3.13) The ¡ar˙an has employed the active verb Â¥ÈÏ¡

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CHAPTER EIGHT /xallifu/6 1in ÌÂ‰Ï Â¥ÈÏ¡ ˙‡·Â (15 0-1,19) ‘and they begot daughters for themselves’ in an interpretive mode, although the Hebrew contains a passive verb Ì‰Ï Â„Ï'È ˙Â·Â ‘and daughters were born to them’ (Gen 6:1). On the other hand, in later occurrences the ¡ar˙an, in a verbatim translation, has translated the Hebrew passive ‰„Ï'È ‘was born’ (Gen 24:15) with the Judeo-Arabic passive ˙„ÏÂÂ˙‡ (15 2b,15), and he has rendered the Hebrew passive „Ï'È in ÌÈ· È˘ „Ï'È ÛÒÂÈÏ (Gen 41:50) with the Judeo-Arabic passive ¥Ï¡˙‡ in „‡Ï‡ ÔÈ˙‡ ¥Ï¡˙‡ ¥ÒÂÈÏ (15 26b,20) ‘and two children were born to Joseph.’ (11-3.14) The ¡ar˙an has translated the Hebrew passive ¯ÓÀ‡zin ÌȯˆÓ ˙‡ÈˆÈ ¯ÓÀ‡-z˘ È˙ÈÎÊ ‡Ï into χ˜˙ in χ˜˙ Ô‡ ˙ȃÁ ÌÏ ¯ˆÓ ‚¯¡ (93 15,11) ‘I did not understand why the exodus from Egypt is recited’ in a verbatim manner (see 11-3.3); however, in another manuscript he has employed the active verb ˙ÈÎÊ in an interpretive mode: ¯ˆÓ ‚¯¡ È¥ Ϙ‡Ï ˙ÈÎÊ ÌÏ (3 3,19) ‘I did not make it to tell about the exodus from Egypt.’ (11-3.15) The Hebrew ‡Â‰ Ì‚ ÛÒÂ is translated into passive verbal form VII infa>al to render verbatim the Hebrew nif>al, ‡Â‰ Ô‡ÓÎ „‡ÊÈ (3 9,4) ‘will also be joined.’ In other manuscripts, though, the ¡ar˙an has preferred to use an active verb in a more interpretive manner, ‡Â‰ Ô‡ÓÎ „ÈÊÈÈÂØ„ÈÊÈ (91 5a,3; 93 23,9) ‘he will also join.’ (11-3.16) The Hebrew passive participle ·Â˙Î ‘is written’ is translated verbatim by the Judeo-Arabic passive participle ·Â˙ÎÓ (93 79,4) ‘is written,’ but Hebrew ¯Ó‡˘ is rendered by the Judeo-Arabic active voice, ˜ÂÒ٠χ χ˜ ‡ÓÎ (93 79,1) ‘as the verse said.’

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Of course there is a slight possibility that Â¥ÈÏ¡Â should be read as the passive /wa-xullifu/; however, the vowel /u/ is usually marked in Later Egyptian Judeo-Arabic, and previous examples in the ¡ar˙ indicate the reading /xallifu/.

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THE MORPHOSYNTACTIC LEVEL: NUMERALS Numerals with Counted Nouns Level: Morphosyntactic; Category 12: Numerals Feature 12-1 — With counted nouns Lit.: The number ÔÈ˙‡ /itn∑n/ ‘two’ can accompany the counted noun, replacing a dual form and imitating Hebrew structure (see above p. 274, 10-1.1). This, of course, can also reflect spoken Egyptian Judeo-Arabic usage (chapter 4, p. 129, 3.8.1). (12-1.1) In Genesis: ·ÂÚ˘ ÔÈ˙‡ (15 5b,6) ‘two nations’ renders ÌÈÈ&‚ È˘ (Gen 25:23); ÌÓÂ‡Ï ÔÈ˙‡ (15 5b,6) ‘two peoples’ translates ÌÈÓ‹‡Ï È˘ (Gen 25:23); ÊÚ‡Ó Ô‡È„‚ ÔÈ˙‡ (15 7b,10) ‘two kids’ translates ÌÈÊÚ ÈÈ„‚ È˘ (Gen 27:9); and ˙‡ËÁÓ ÔÈ˙‡Ï (15 15b,7) ‘for two camps’ renders ˙ÂÁÓ È˘Ï (Gen 32:8). (12-1.2) In Esther: È˘‡ÂË ÔÈ˙‡ (1302 2b,23; 4b,15) ‘two eunuchs’ translates ÍÏÓ‰ ÈÒÈ¯Ò È˘ (Esth 2:21). (12-1.3) In the Haggadah: ·Â·ÁÓ ÔÈ˙‡· (93 83,4) ‘for two gold pounds’ renders Aramaicized Hebrew ÈÊÂÊ È¯˙·. The phrase ˙¡¯· ÔÈ˙‡ (3 22,4) ‘two blessings’ appears in the instructions to the Passover leader. This could indicate a verbatim translation, but it could also reflect colloquial Egyptian Judeo-Arabic use. There are other instances where the counted nouns follow verbatim the Hebrew original and not regular Arabic structure: (12-1.4) ̉˙‡¯·ÂÎ ¯˘Ú ÔÈ˙‡ (15 5a, 13) ‘twelve of their chiefs,’ where the counted noun is in the plural following the Hebrew plural Ìœ‡È˘ ‘chieftains’ (Gen 25:16). In regular Arabic structure, a singular counted noun following the number ‘twelve’ is expected. The same applies to „‡Ï ¯˘Ú „Á‡Â (15 16a,13) ‘and his eleven children,’ translating ÂÈ„ÏÈ ¯˘Ú „Á‡ ˙‡Â (Gen 32:23) and to ¬„È·Ú ¯˘Ú È«˙‡ (15 27b,8) ‘twelve of your servants,’ rendering ÍÈ„·Ú ¯˘Ú ÌÈ˘ (Gen 42:13) (chapter 4, p. 130, 3.8.3). At times the counted noun is in agreement with the Hebrew original in a literal translation, but at the same time it also adheres to standard Arabic structure: 299

CHAPTER EIGHT (12-1.5) In Genesis the following nouns appear in the singular, following verbatim the Hebrew original, but also adhering to standard Arabic use: ‰ƒ¥ ‘a piece of silver’ in ‰ƒ¥ Ôȯ˘Ú· (15 22b,6–7) ‘for twenty pieces of silver’ translates ÛÒÎ Ìȯ˘Ú· (Gen 37:28); ‰Ò ‘year’ in ‰Ò ˙ȇÓÓ˙ (15 0-1,3–4) ‘eight hundred years’ and in ‰Ò ÔÈ˙Ò (15 5b,12) ‘sixty years’ renders ‰˘ ˙Â‡Ó ‰›Ó˘ (Gen 5:19) and ‰˘ ÌÈ˘˘ (Gen 25:26) respectively. (12-1.6) In Esther: In ‰ƒ¥ χ˜˙Ó ¥‡Ï‡ ˙¯˘Ú (1302 3a,17) ‘and ten thousand miskals [a type of weight] of silver,’ which translates Hebrew ÛÒÎ ¯ÎÎ ÌÈÙχ ˙¯˘Ú ‘and ten thousand talents of silver’ (Esth 3:9), both in Hebrew and in Judeo-Arabic the first counted noun is in the plural and the second in the singular; the counted noun „‡Ï‡ ‘children’ in ÔÓ‰ „‡Ï‡ ˙¯˘Ú (1302 7a,1) ‘the ten sons of Haman’ is plural in both the ¡ar˙ and the Hebrew original ÔÓ‰ È· ˙¯˘Ú (Esth 9:10). Similar are the counted nouns in the following two examples: ˙Ú·Ò ˙È‡Ó ‰È„Ó Ôȯ˘Ú (1302 1b,3) ‘one hundred and twenty-seven provinces,’ translating ‰È„Ó ‰‡Ó Ìȯ˘Ú ڷ˘ (Esth 1:1), and ˙ÈÈÓ ÌÂÈ ÔÈ‡Ó˙ (1302 1b,6) ‘one hundred and eighty days,’ rendering ÌÂÈ ˙‡Ó ÌÈÂÓ˘ (Esth 1:4). (12-1.7) In the Haggadah: the counted nouns ˙‡·¯ƒ ‘plagues’ and ˙‡ÓÏÎ ‘words’ are plural in both the ¡ar˙ and the Hebrew: ˙‡·¯ƒ ¯˘Ú (3 13,14; 3 14,7) ‘ten plagues’; ˙‡·¯ƒ ÒÓ¡ (3 15,11) ‘five plagues’; ˙‡ÓÏÎ ˙‡Ï˙ (3 17,18–19) ‘three words’; the counted noun ‰Ò ‘year’ is singular in both the ¡ar˙ and the Hebrew original: ‰Ò ÔÈÚ·Ò (3 3,19) ‘seventy years.’ Rarely does the word order of the counted noun follow the nonstandard Hebrew original in a literal translation, where the counted noun precedes the numeral: (12-1.8) In Genesis: ÔÈ˙È‡Ó ˙‡‚Ú Ôȯ˘Ú ‰ÒÈÈ˙ ÔÈ˙È‡Ó ÊÚ‡Ó Ôȯ˘Ú Ô‡¥¯¡Â (15 15b,18–19) ‘two hundred she-goats and twenty he-goats, two hundred ewes and twenty rams’ translates ÌÈÊÚ

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THE MORPHOSYNTACTIC LEVEL: NUMERALS Ìȯ˘Ú ÌÈÏȇ ÌÈ˙‡Ó ÌÈÏÁ¯ Ìȯ˘Ú ÌÈ˘È˙ ÌÈ˙‡Ó (Gen 32:15); Ô‡¯˙ ‰¯˘Ú ˘ÂÁ Ôȯ˘Ú ¯È‡ÓÁ ‰¯˘Ú ¯˜·Â ÔÈÚ·¯‡ (15 15b,19–20) ‘forty cows and ten bulls, twenty she-asses and ten he-asses’ renders ‰¯˘Ú ÌXÈÚ Ìȯ˘Ú ˙&&˙‡ ‰¯˘Ú ÌȯÙ ÌÈÚ·¯‡ ˙¯٠(Gen 32:16); and ‰¯˘Ú ¥ÒÂÈ Ô‡Â¡‡ (15 27a,15) ‘ten of Joseph’s brothers,’ translates ‰¯˘Ú ÛÒÂÈ ÈÁ‡ (Gen 42:3) (see also below, p. 302, 12-.1.11). At times the structure of the numeral does not follow Arabic structure, but rather imitates the Hebrew original in a verbatim translation: (12-1.9) In Genesis: The numeral in χӂ ‰¯˘Ú (15 2b,6) ‘ten camels’ follows the Hebrew ÌÈÏÓ‚ ‰¯˘Ú (Gen 24:10), whereas in regular Arabic usage an i∂åfa construction of the numeral with the counted noun is expected, />a¡árat gimål/. The same is true of the phrase ·‰„ ‰¯˘Ú (15 3a,5–6) ‘ten (pieces of) gold,’ which follows verbatim the Hebrew ·‰Ê ‰¯˘Ú (Gen 24:22) in terms of both the absolute form of the number ‘ten,’ as in the previous example, and the number of the counted noun, which is singular in the Judeo-Arabic translation, just like the Hebrew. (12-1.10) In the Haggadah: ı‡¡˘‡ Ú·¯‡ (3 4,8) ‘four sons’ appears, but in two other manuscripts the i∂åfa rule is preserved: ı‡¡˘‡ ˙Ú·¯‡ (74 2,8) and ı¡˘‡ ˙Ú·¯‡ (93 16,5–7). Int.: At times the ¡ar˙an chose to follow regular Arabic structure when using the singular counted noun, instead of imitating the Hebrew original: (12-1.11) In Genesis: Ôȯ˘Ú Ô‡¥¯¡Â … Ôȯ˘Ú ‰ÒÈÈ˙ ÔÈ˙È‡Ó ÊÚ‡Ó (15 15b,18–19) ‘two hundred she-goat and twenty he-goats … and twenty rams’ translates the Hebrew Ìȯ˘Ú ÌÈ˘È˙ ÌÈ˙‡Ó ÌÈÊÚ Ìȯ˘Ú ÌÈÏȇ … (Gen 32:15). In this example the Judeo-Arabic counted nouns are in the singular, following regular Arabic structure, whereas the equivalent Hebrew counted nouns are in the plural (for the literal replication of word order, see 12-1.8). (12-1.12) In the Haggadah: ‰·¯ƒ ÔÈÒÓ¡ (3 14,7-8) ‘fifty plagues’; 301

CHAPTER EIGHT ‰·¯ƒ ÔÈÚ·¯‡ (3 15,6) ‘forty plagues’; and ‰·¯ƒ ÔÈ˙È‡Ó (3 15,7) ‘two hundred plagues,’ where the noun ‰·¯ƒ ‘plague’ is singular, while the equivalent Hebrew ˙ÂÎÓ ‘plagues’ is plural. Some counted nouns reflect dialectal use in an interpretive translation: (12-1.13) In Genesis: The counted noun in ÔÈÒ ÔÈ˙Ï˙ ‰È‡ÓÓ˙ (15 0-1,1) ‘eight hundred and thirty years’ is in the plural, whereas the Hebrew counted noun is in the singular: ‰˘ ÌÈ˘¿˘ ‰˘ ‰›Ó˘Â (Gen 5:16) (see chapter 4, p. 130, 3.8.3). L/I: (12-1.14) As seen above (12-1.11–12-1.12), sometimes the counted noun follows regular Arabic structure and not the Hebrew original, as is the case with the Judeo-Arabic singular ·ÎÂÎ ‘star’ in the verse ‰ÈÏ ÔÈ„‚‡Ò ·ÎÂÎ ¯˘Ú „Á‡Â (15 21b,16–17) ‘and eleven stars were bowing down to me’ (unlike 12-1.4 on pp. 299–300). The singular Judeo-Arabic ·ÎÂÎ ‘star’ translates the original Hebrew plural ÌÈ·ÎÂÎ ‘stars’ in ÌÈ·ÎÂÎ ¯˘Ú „Á‡Â ÈÏ ÌÈÂÁ˙˘Ó (Gen 37:9), interpretively following Classical Arabic structure. However, the participle ÔÈ„‚‡Ò ‘bowing down’ that follows the counted noun is in the plural, imitating the Hebrew plural participle ÌÈÂÁ˙˘Ó ‘bowing down’ in a verbatim manner.

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CHAPTER NINE THE SEGMENT LEVEL Following the path of inquiry in the last two chapters, this chapter analyzes the ¡ur¥˙ of Genesis, Esther, and the Passover Haggadah, scanning selected examples through the segmental level and following the model presented in table 4 of chapter 3 (pp. 81–82). This chapter emphasizes Judeo-Arabic orthography and phonetics/phonology and the connection between them.1 As mentioned in chapter 4 (pp. 96–99), Judeo-Arabic orthography ought to be considered cautiously when reconstructing phonetic and phonological structure. When the orthography, however, is supported by additional evidence, phonetic and phonological features can be established with greater certainty. Many of the examples presented in this chapter are connected to the Hebraized orthography (Hary 1991a:124, 1996c:732), where Hebrew influenced Judeo-Arabic orthography in the late periods of the religiolect. The Hebrew influence on the orthography reflects a tendency toward literal translation, because the Judeo-Arabic Hebraized orthography is closely associated with the Hebrew sacred texts. Conversely, the features discussed in this chapter are also connected to spoken Egyptian JudeoArabic elements. By adhering more to the colloquial, the ¡ar˙an has turned to the interpretive mode, and he has done so in order to make the translated sacred texts more comprehensible to his readers.

1

I have discussed the connection between Judeo-Arabic orthography and phonetics/phonology in chapter 4, pp. 96–99, as well as in Hary 1990, 1991a, 1996b, and elsewhere.

CHAPTER NINE Note that throughout the chapter, phonemic transcription appears, as is customary, between slashes / / and allophonic transcription between square brackets [ ] (see above, p. xix). Assimilation Level: Segment; Category 13: Orthography/Phonology Feature 13-1 — Assimilation Int.: The following is evidence in the texts of the ¡ur¥˙ that assimilation processes have occurred. This can be seen as a sign of an interpretive translation process, whereby the ¡ar˙an represented colloquial use in the texts. (13-1.1) In Genesis partial assimilation occurs in Ï¡˙˙ /titxul/ (15 36b,7) ‘enter’ as devoicing /d/ > /t/ (see p. 107, 1.10.1). (13-1.2) In Esther the verb /xammim/ ‘imagine’ may reflect a full assimilation process [n] > [m] in the Arabic verb /xammin/ in ¬Ò¥ È¥ ÈÓÓ¡˙ ‡Ï (1302 4a,6) ‘do not imagine in your soul.’2 L/I: (13-1.3) In Genesis the regressive voicing shift /x/ > [\] may occur at times: ̇ʵ χ /il-\u zåm/ (15 3a,14; 4a,2) ‘the nose ring.’ This can be seen as a voicing assimilation in the environment of the voiced [z], compared to the literary form /xuzåm/, although ̇Ê¡ /xuzåm/ (15 3a,5) and ‰ÓÊ¡‡ χ /il-axzima/ (15 18b,19), without the assimilation, occur in the text as well. (13-1.4) The opposite regressive devoicing shift also appears: /\/ > [x]. This can be seen as a voicing assimilation in the environment of the voiceless [s]: ‰ÈÏ‚¯ ÏÒ¡ÈÏ /li-yixsal rigl∑h/ (15 3a,19) ‘to wash his feet’ and ÂÏÒ¡‡Â (15 18b,15) ‘and they washed,’ although µ /\/ occurs in other examples of the verb: ̉ÈÏ‚¯ ÂÏҵ /wi-\aßalu rigl∑hom/ (15 29b,14) ‘and they washed their feet’; ‰‚ Ïҵ (15 30a,3) ‘and he washed his face’; È¥ ÏÒµ „È· χ (15 36b,15) ‘wash in wine.’

2

However, there is also the possibility of a scribal error in the manuscript.

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THE SEGMENT LEVEL: EMPHATIZATION AND DEEMPHATIZATION Emphatization and Deemphatization Feature 13-2 — Emphatization and Deemphatization Int.: In the following examples, despite the fact that the Hebrew names were copied into the Judeo-Arabic, their spelling illustrates the possible emphatization that might have occurred in the emphatic environment in a more interpretive translation. (13-2.1) In Genesis: /d/ becomes [∂] in ¯ƒÁ„ /da˙∂ar¢u/ (15 10a,13) ‘they caused to roll down,’ probably because of the environment of the emphatic /r¢/. (13-2.2) In the Haggadah: in ‰ˈ /ßø†na/ (3 9,17) ‘our voice,’ /t/ becomes emphatic [†] in the environment of emphatic /ß/. In another example, ı¥¯Î /kar¢faß/ (74 21,2) ‘Karpas’ (greens for the Passover Seder) translates the Hebrew ÒÙ¯Î, and the emphatization /s/ > [ß] may have occurred in the environment of [r¢] . A similar emphatization occurs in ¯∂Ú Ï‡ /el>aΩar¢/ (93 15-b,10) ‘Elazer’; ¯∂Ú Èχ /eli>eΩer¢/ (93 15,9) ‘Eliezer’; and in ‰È¯∂Ú (93 15,9 and more) />aΩar¢ya/ ‘Azariah,’ with the emphatization of /z/ > [Ω] in the environment of [r¢]. More infrequently, deemphatization may occur in the environment of plain obstruents. (13-2.3) In Genesis: ·ÂÏ˙˙ /til¥bu/ (15 29a,7) ‘you seek,’ where /†/ becomes [t] after plain /t/, compared with the literary form /ta†l¥bu/. (13-2.4) In Esther: ¯„¡‡ /axdar/ (1302 1b,8) ‘green,’ where /∂/ > [d] following plain /x/, compared with the literary form /ax∂ar/. (13-2.5) In the Haggadah: emphatic /ß/ becomes plain /s/ in ÚÒÈÏ /li-yisna>/ (91 3a,17) ‘for him to do,’ compared with the literary form /yaßna>/. L/I: (13-2.6) In Genesis deemphatized [t] occurred in È˙¥ÈÈ˙ /tayfati/ (15 3b,7) ‘my family’ and in ¬‡È¯˙ /tar•