Maximum Tsuris

My grandpa had a favorite saying: “A sad Jew is a Happy Jew.” When I asked what he meant he explained, “Jews love to kvetch. It makes them feel alive.” In Yiddish, kvetch translates as “stress” or “squeeze.” Leo Rosten described kvetching in his book The Joys of Yiddish as “to fret, complain, gripe, grunt, sigh.” Kvetch is a verb (to complain) and a noun (the person who complains is a kvetch). Most people pronounce the word as ka-vetch. This is wrong. It should be uttered as a single syllable with no vowel between the “k” and “v.”

Kvetching is a Jewish tradition that goes back centuries. When the ancient Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years, they kvetched to Moses about their lack of food, water and shelter. Moses himself was a kvetcher. He kvetched to God for committing evil against the Jewish people and forcing them into exile (Exodus 32:11–13). Abraham, the first Jew, kvetched to God when the cities of Sodom and Gomorra were about to be destroyed accusing God of immoral behavior (Genesis 18:25).

The kvetchiest expression in the Yiddish vernacular is oy vey. These two words translate to “Woe is me.” It’s an expression of dismay or sadness in response to a troubling situation. Oy vey is an all-purpose kvetch. It can be spoken in response to getting into a car accident or discovering your milk went bad in the refrigerator.

While kvetching might seem like the opposite of expressing gratitude for life, devout Jews view this differently. Kvetching arose from the suffering experienced by Jews throughout history. Ancient Jews were defined by their exile. Psalms 137:1 expresses the angst of this exile with the words, “By the Rivers of Babylon, we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion.” Jews weren’t merely whining. They were reminding themselves that life wasn’t supposed to be this way. Kvetching was a coping mechanism, a way for Jews to remember their homeland and mitigate their suffering. Until the Messiah returns and the Temple is rebuilt, kvetching expresses the disharmony of life on earth. Only when God returns to establish order can kvetching finally be put aside. (Whether this will happen is another story.)

In Seinfeld, Frank Costanza (Jerry Stiller) invented the perfect holiday for kvetchers. Festivus is a Christmas-time celebration where people gather around a meatloaf-shaped dinner to air their grievances. As Frank Costanza explains, “I got a lotta problems with you people, and now you’re gonna hear about it.”

Jewish comedians have always used kvetching as a source of humor. Groucho Marx’s famous line “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member” was an inspired kvetch. Rodney Dangerfield kvetched about his appearance saying, “I was so ugly, my mother used to diaper my face.” Jackie Mason kvetched about being poor when saying, “I had to sell furniture to make a living—my own.” Larry David turned kvetching into an art form (“A date is an experience you have with another person that makes you appreciate being alone.”)

Klezmer is the perfect musical soundtrack for kvetchers. Comprised of instruments known for expressing sadness and bad tidings (clarinet, violin, accordion), klezmer was played by Eastern European Jews at weddings and holiday celebrations. Modern music is filled with kvetch-laden songs. When Paul Robeson sang “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen,” he was kvetching. Same with Linda Ronstadt singing “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me” and Mick Jagger with “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.”

Kvetching isn’t uniquely Jewish. Donald Trump used kvetching as a path to the White House. He kvetched about stolen elections, fake news, criminal dog-eating migrants and “Crooked Joe Biden.” What differentiates Trump’s kvetching from Jewish kvetching is that he gripes about his enemies. As my grandpa explained, “A mensch kvetches about his own plight, a schmuck kvetches about others.”

During my childhood, I was given mixed messages about kvetching. My dad implored me to “stop your kvetching” before going on a 10-minute kvetch about the idiots in his own life. My grandparents pulled off a double-kvetch at restaurants. My grandma would say, “This food is terrible” while my grandpa would add, “And such small portions too.” (When I heard this joke uttered by Woody Allen in Annie Hall, I thought he stole it from my grandparents.)

I like to think I’ve evolved beyond kvetching in my own life. This isn’t the case. My wife says driving with me is a non-stop kvetch fest. I curse at other drivers and complain about red lights taking too long to turn green. I kvetch about restaurant food being overcooked or too spicy. While watching sporting events, I yell at the television “you suck” or “make a damn free throw.”