How do You Say Henna in Yiddish? A Russian Jew Discovers Henna and Other Encounters

I am super excited to be offering henna at the Toronto-based Ashkenaz Festival, a celebration of contemporary global Jewish arts and culture, and spreading awareness of the long and rich history of henna in Jewish communities around the world.

Ashkenaz began as a festival of Yiddish music; Ashkenaz literally means ‘Germany’ in Hebrew and refers to the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe, known as Ashkenazim. While my own family is of Ashkenazi background, my work with henna has led me to the Jews of North Africa, Yemen, Central Asia, and elsewhere — that is, the non-Ashkenazi world.

When people think of "Ashkenaz", the first images that usually come to mind are Yiddish (the Judeo-German language historically spoken by Ashkenazi Jews), klezmer music, the shtetl, the Lower East Side, Fiddler on the Roof... But usually not henna.

Thus, some of my friends thought it was surprising that I would be offering henna at a festival called “Ashkenaz,” and one even asked somewhat sarcastically, “Well, how do you even say henna in Yiddish?” 

The truth is that I myself never imagined that I would come across Yiddish in my henna research… Wrong, as usual! In honour of the upcoming festival I thought I’d bring up a few fun points of encounter between henna and Yiddish. If you've always wondered how to say 'henna' in Yiddish, wait no longer! And feel free to stop by this weekend if you're in Toronto.

What Would Jesus Do (About Henna)? The Place of Henna in Ancient and Modern Christianity

We got a question on our Facebook page from one of our fans which was so interesting that it deserved its own blogpost! (Note for all of you readers, please feel free to do the same! I love researching henna questions so fire away!).

The question:

Can you tell me how relevant henna was in Christ’s time? Some of my Christian friends will not get henna because they believe it is ‘marking’ the body which is spoken of in the Bible. I believe the reference is more toward cutting rather than decorating, which I also think henna was used for, to prepare the body for burial. Can you give me some info that would be positive use of henna during Christ’s time?

A fabulous question, and one that I imagine many henna artists have encountered before! Feel free to forward this post to your relatives, send out to your church listserv, or print out and bring to your festivals!

I really wanted to answer this question just so I could make this
picture! "Sacred Heart" by Charles Bosseron Chambers (1883-1964),
with some added henna (by me).

There are two interrelated questions here: 
1) Was henna used in Jesus’ time? And 
2) Is henna use consistent with Christian principles, or ‘What Would Jesus Do (About Henna)’? 

I’ll try my best to answer both these questions, even though I should note that I am very far from an expert on Christian history or theology (and in fact I’m not even Christian myself).

By Any Other Name: Words for Henna Across the World

There was a recent post on one of the henna forums online about the etymology of the word ‘henna’ and it occurred to me that exploring the different names for henna and their etymologies might make an interesting subject for a blogpost! I’ve tried to group them by age and area, and of course I’ve stuck mostly to languages that I’m (at least somewhat) familiar with. If you know more names for henna, or more about what I’ve written here, please add them in the comments!!

Ancient Languages: Egypt

Let’s start with the oldest word for henna that we know… It’s actually difficult to say what that might be. In general, identifying plant and animal names in ancient languages is one of the most hotly contested fields of linguistics — it’s hard enough to know exactly what plant or animal a word refers to in any language, and it’s especially difficult when there are no speakers to ask, “Can you point to the plant you mean when you say X?”

The oldest records of henna use come from Egypt, but the textual evidence is very unclear. The most promising candidate for a plant name that might refer to henna is ‘nḥ-imi, or ankh-imy, which might be translated as the ‘Life-is-in-it’-plant (Germer 2008, pg. 42). In hieroglyphs it’s written like this:

You might be able to recognize the word/symbol ankh, for ‘life’. This plant was used during the embalming process, and it was described as protecting the bed of the Pharaoh (Charpentier 1981, pp. 158-159, Germer 2008, pp. 42-43); its scent was thought to bring the dead back to life (Germer 1992, pg. 124). 

Now it is very tempting to connect this to archaeological records of hennaed mummified bodies and starting imagining some postmortem henna ritual in ancient Egypt… BUT we must be very cautious. There is no indication in any Egyptian text that the ‘nḥ-imi plant had any dyeing properties, and other scholars argue that the ‘nḥ-imi plant is not henna, but a type of lotus (Aufrère 1987, pp. 34-35). So the bottom line is we can’t be sure.

Henna and Hametz: Jewish Henna Traditions for Passover

The holiday of Passover (or Pesah in Hebrew) is almost upon us! In between the matza ball soup, 12 types of haroset, and chocolate-caramel matza crunch (so good!) I thought I’d offer a few observations on henna’s connection to Passover.

Jewish singers with hennaed palms, Tissint,
ca. 1934, photo by Jean Besancenot.

Since henna was a symbol of celebration, it’s not surprising that it would make an appearance on Passover. One fascinating account comes from a British soldier known only as “Colonel Scott,” who had joined the forces of the great Algerian leader ‘Abd al-Qadir (or Abd-el-Kader, as Scott spells it).

On April 5, 1841, Scott was staying in the town of Taza, in the Highlands of Morocco, which happened to be the day before Passover. He writes: “The Jews have been extremely busy the last few days, white-washing their houses, and making preparations for the celebration of the feast of the passover, which commences to-morrow” (1842, pg. 53). Sounds about right!

As Beautiful As Queen Esther: Henna Traditions for Purim

This upcoming weekend is the holiday of Purim, so I’m already elbow-deep in hamantaschen and trying desperately to come up with a clever costume. Any suggestions? 

In the meantime, I thought I’d share some information about henna traditions for Purim.

Jewish girl carrying water
for the bath, Sundur, Iraqi
Kurdistan, mid-20th century.

First of all, there is a connection to the story of Purim as found in the Bible. The book of Esther describes how Esther enters the Beit haNashim (the House of the Women) for twelve months: for the first six months they were anointed with myrrh, and for the last six months with ointments, described as תמרוקים, tamruqim (Esther 2:3). 

What is the meaning of tamruq? The word is traditionally interpreted as being some sort of cleansing or purifying ointment; it comes from the root m.r.q., the basic meaning of which is ‘to rub.’

Could the tamruq have been henna? It’s possible, but there’s no evidence for certain. Henna may have been known in ancient Persia, although the closest proof we have for that is that Pliny mentions henna as one of the ingredients in a ‘Parthian Royal Ointment’ (Historia Naturalis, XIII.2), so we can’t say for sure. 

If the tamruq was henna, it would explain Esther 2:9, where the head eunuch takes a liking to Esther and ensures that she is the first of all the women to get her tamruqim, thus granting Esther the darkest and longest-lasting stains. Whatever it was, it worked, since Esther finds favour in the king’s eyes and is chosen as the queen.

But what about historical henna traditions to celebrate Purim in Jewish communities? Since henna was a commonly-used cosmetic, especially at times of celebration, it’s not surprising that there are records of Jewish communities using henna to beautify themselves before Purim.

Would You Trade Henna for a Bible?: Missionaries and Merchants in Qajar Iran

In research for my last post on henna use among gender-defiant Jewish dancers in Central Asia, I came across Persia: western mission, the memoirs of an American missionary named Samuel Joseph Wilson. In it he includes an amusing story about henna that I thought I would share here. I found his life-story fascinating, so I begin with it before describing the incident.

Dr. Samuel Joseph Wilson was born in Indiana, Pennsylvania, on Feb. 11, 1858. He was apparently a intellectual prodigy, graduating at 18 with a B.A. from Princeton. He then went to Western Theological Seminary (then in Allegheny, PA, today merged with Pittsburgh Theological Seminary), received an M.A. in 1879 and was ordained as a Presbyterian minister in 1880. He left right away for Persia, where he spent the rest of his life as a missionary. He worked hard to convert Jews and Muslims to Christianity; while his books are filled with his success stories, though, he had little long-term impact on the religious life of these communities. 

He competed for converts with the new faith of the Bahá'u'lláh, what is now the Bahá'í faith, and he eventually wrote a book exploring its history and theology (Bahaism and Its Claims, 1915). He was also the author of a popular book on Persian culture (Persian Life and Customs, 1895), a fictional romance set among Persian Armenians (Mariam: a romance of Persia, 1906), and a series of lectures on Islam in the modern world (Modern Movements Among Moslems, 1916). 

In 1916 he was sent to deliver relief funds from the Red Cross to Armenian refugees from the Ottoman-sponsored genocide in eastern Turkey; working in difficult conditions and a cold winter, he fell ill with typhoid fever and died. The Princeton Alumni Weekly records that the cable with news of his death “came as a great shock,” especially for his family who had stayed in the United States “since it was too dangerous and difficult for them to return to Persia under present conditions” (1916, pg. 52).

The Mission School in Tabriz, of which Wilson was the principal, and where he died, aged 58.
Photo from Wilson, Persian Life and Customs, 1895, pg. 306.

American missionary Robert Elliot Speer called him “one of the ablest and most courageous” missionaries and noted that “his long life of fidelity was crowned with its rich reward” (Speer, 1917, pp. 191 and 194). He was a popular speaker and skilled linguist, translating church literature himself into Armenian and Azeri (Anderson, 1999, pg. 743). 

Introduction to Eshkol haKofer

Welcome to Eshkol haKofer! This is a space for me to blog about some of the interesting tidbits that I come across in my research of Jewish henna traditions.

The title of the blog comes from the Hebrew Bible, Song of Songs 1:14, which reads:

אֶשְׁכֹּל הַכֹּפֶר דּוֹדִי לִי בְּכַרְמֵי עֵין גֶּדִי

eshkol hakopher dodhi li bekharmei ‘ein gedhi

A cluster of henna blossoms is my beloved to me, in the vineyards of ‘Ein Gedi.

This simple metaphor is the beginning of the multimillenial story of the henna plant and the Jewish people. The study of Jewish henna touches on many different issues: the relationship between organized religion and folk culture, the social integration of Jews in the Islamic world, and the ways that Jewish communities adopt and adapt cultural forms from their surroundings and invest them with Jewish meaning. 

My research will draw on insights from history, rabbinic literature, anthropology, art history, and other fields. At its core, it seeks to understand the impact of henna use in its various manifestations on the spiritual and social lives of its Jewish practitioners. Thus the study of Jewish henna extends from contemporary Jewish couples marrying today in Toronto to colonial travelers writing about the exotic “Oriental Jews,” from medieval rabbis discussing whether henna stains constitute a ritual barrier for immersion to that nameless beloved and their henna bouquet in the desert, so many years ago.

Ein Gedi is an oasis in the south of the Land of Israel, west of the Dead Sea. Today it is a natural park which provides a sanctuary for a number of animal and plant species. In biblical times, it was renowned as a production centre for perfumes, one of which may have been made from henna flowers. 

Botanical drawing of Lawsonia inermis.
From Sonnini, Voyage dans la Haute et Basse Egypte, 1799.

Josephus, a Jewish historian of the 1st century CE, writes (The Wars of the Jews, 4.469):

καὶ μελιττοτρόφος δὲ ἡ χώρα: φέρει δὲ καὶ ὀποβάλσαμον, ὃ δὴ τιμιώτατον τῶν τῇδε καρπῶν, κύπρον τε καὶ μυροβάλανον, ὡς οὐκ ἂν ἁμαρτεῖν τινα εἰπόντα θεῖον εἶναι τὸ χωρίον, ἐν ᾧ δαψιλῆ τὰ σπανιώτατα καὶ κάλλιστα γεννᾶται.

This land [around Jericho] feeds honeybees; it also bears the balsam which is the most valuable of all the fruits of that place, and henna [kupros] as well as myrobalanus [?]; so that it would not be a mistake to call this place divine, since the rarest and most excellent plants grow here in abundance.

And 1,800 years later, when the English clergyman and naturalist Henry Baker Tristam (1822-1906) went on a natural history expedition to the Holy Land in 1863-4, he found henna bushes still growing wild in the area (The Land of Israel: A Journal of Travels in Palestine, Undertaken With Special Reference to Its Physical Character, 1865, pg. 299): 

The camphire of Engedi, mentioned in the Book of Canticles, we identified in a pretty shrub, with bunches of graceful pink-white blossoms, which was already in flower in some sheltered nooks, and called El-Henna by the Arabs, from which they procure the Henna dye — the Lawsonia alba of botanists.

Like Josephus, I believe in the sanctity of the place where henna is to be found, and I suspect that we have much to gain from our quest of that “rarest and most excellent” of plants. I invite you to join me on this journey! Suggestions, comments, questions, and criticisms are all warmly welcome. And feel free to follow us on Facebook for the latest updates!

Henna blessings,

Noam Sienna