HOW DO YOU TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A KING AND A BEGGAR?
Ever since the first ape slipped on the first banana skin, a sense of humour has assumed a sense of the slippery: a sense with which one can not only find the funny in the joke, but one can transform what’s funny about the joke.
The Jewish joke is a case in point. The debate over whether Jewish jokes are battling anti-Semitism or are in fact forms of it isn’t anything so new. Back in the bad old days, for example, there was clearly an anti-Semitic way of interpreting the joke about the Jew who, upon finding his fellow passenger is also Jewish, instantly puts his feet up on the seat in front of him (‘You see! Jews among themselves reveal who they really are ... dirty and uncivilised!’). And yet precisely here is where that most famous promoter of the slip – Sigmund Freud – identified something else: the democratic spirit of a people who will brook no hierarchy, because all, ultimately, are members of the same human family.*
We see this no better than in the typical Jewish beggar/shnorrer joke. In the oral storytelling of the Hasidim, the shnorrer in the parable invariably turns out to be a king (or an angel) in disguise. But in the Jewish joke it’s the other way around, as now it’s the nobleman who winds up exasperatedly begging:
A shnorrer tries without success to get an appointment with Rothschild. Finally he stands outside the family mansion and shouts, ‘My family is starving to death and the baron refuses to see me!’
Rothschild acquiesces and gives the shnorrer thirty rubles. ‘Here you are,’ he says. ‘And let me tell you that if you hadn’t caused such a scene, I would have given you sixty rubles.’
‘My dear Baron,’ replies the shnorrer, ‘I don’t tell you how to conduct your business, so you don’t tell me how to conduct mine.’
* * *
In Rome, two beggars are sitting on the ground, a few feet apart. One wears a large cross. The other, a Star of David. Needless to say, the plate of the former fills up quickly, with almost nothing in the plate of the latter.
After some time, a kindly priest passes and sizes up the situation. He turns to the Jewish beggar: ‘My son, you should put away that Star of David. You will never make enough money wearing that.’
After he leaves, the Jewish beggar turns to the other with an annoyed look: ‘Could you believe that guy, telling the Goldberg brothers how to run their business?’
* * *
The shnorrer begged the baron for some money for a journey to Ostend; his doctor had recommended sea-bathing for his troubles. The baron thought Ostend was a particularly expensive resort; wouldn’t a cheaper one do equally well? The shnorrer disagreed. ‘Herr Baron,’ he said, ‘I consider nothing too expensive for my health.’
* * *
A poor and desperate man borrowed £100 from a rich acquaintance. The very same day his benefactor met him again in a restaurant with a plate of caviar in front of him.
‘What? You borrow money from me and then order yourself caviar? Is that what you’ve used my money for?’
‘I don’t understand you,’ replied the poor man. ‘If I haven’t any money I can’t eat caviar, and if I have some money then I mustn’t eat caviar. Then, when can I eat caviar?’
* * *
A shnorrer, allowed as a needy guest into a wealthy man’s house every Sabbath, one day brings an unknown young man with him and sits down to eat.
‘Who is this?’ asked the householder.
‘He’s my new son-in-law,’ the shnorrer replied. ‘I’ve promised him his board for the first year.’
* * *
Chernov, the shnorrer of Petrograd, had a very wealthy patron who, for some obscure reason, had taken a liking to the nervy little beggar. Each year he would give Chernov a handsome stipend – never less than five hundred rubles. One year, however, the rich man gave him only two hundred and fifty rubles.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded the insolent shnorrer. ‘This is only half of what you have been giving me!’
‘I’m sorry, Chernov, but I must cut my expenses this year,’ apologised the wealthy man. ‘My son married an actress and I am paying all the bills.’
‘Well, of all the chutzpah!’ roared Chernov, hopping mad. ‘If your son wants to support an actress, that’s his business. But how dare he do it with my money!’
Thinking of the Jewish concept of tzedakah – a form of charity that equates to social justice – Freud says: ‘The truth that lies behind is that the shnorrer, who in his thoughts treats the rich man’s money as his own, has actually, according to the sacred ordinances of the Jews, almost a right to make this confusion.’ So the very same jokes that denigrate Jews in the eyes of some appear as powerful lessons in Jewish ethics in the eyes of others. Though there are of course limits:
A baron, deeply moved by a shnorrer’s tale of woe, rang for his servants. ‘Throw him out!’ he said. ‘He’s breaking my heart!’
* ‘Especially if you’re from a Sephardi family and have been told that pretty much everyone you meet is related to you – you’re just never quite sure how.