The 300th anniversary of the premier performance of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele” – is being marked this week, among other modest musical landmarks. This old Lutheran hymn’s title may sound quite inappropriate in English, but it is completely innocent in its original German language.
Indeed, the verses mirror the unity between Jesus Christ and a worshipper receiving communion, likened to the bond between a bride and her groom. The song’s title, without any hint of impudence, translates to “Adorn yourself, my soul, with joy.”
This prompted a curiosity – what led to the popular Yiddish insult, schmuck, derived from this harmless hymn? Schmuck, as most are aware, can translate to “fool”, “loathsome man”, or “male genitalia”. The origins of this term continue to confound language experts, with theories divided between it emerging from the Polish word schmok, translating to “snake” or “tail”, or the German term schmucke that translates to “jewel” or “adornment”, in a sarcastic sense.
Regardless of how it evolved, schmuck was deemed so improper that a more diplomatic alternative, Schmo(e), was created, serving a similar purpose to the euphemistic Feck in Hiberno-English for a particular harsh English profanity.
The richness of Yiddish as a language is clearly demonstrated in its arsenal of insults. Someone once suggested that there could be up to 50 ways to say “loser” in Yiddish, similar to the Eskimos having numerous terms for snow. A number of such expressions include schlep, schlub, schlemiel and schlimazel.
In the Irish context, a schlep may sound like a mild threat from a hard-hitting Kerry corner-back, but it’s mainly used as a verb meaning to “pull” or “drag”, actions that are also deployed effectively in Gaelic football. Interestingly, the English language first made use of this benign term in James Joyce’s Ulysses, where he depicts Stephen Dedalus sharing a poetic moment about a gypsy lady gathering shellfish on Sandymount Strand.
Throughout the world’s deserts, she admirably hauls her burden, chased by the burning blade of sun, journeying towards the west and evening territories. There is a related Yiddish term that signifies underperformance – schlep, a shorthand version of schlepper, which refers to a clumsy, inept individual.
The term schlimazel, interestingly, serves as the root for schemozzle, a phrase that strangely found its home in Ireland due to the influence of the GAA. The way this happened is quite enigmatic. It appears that the term gained popularity around the early 1950s and is notably linked with Micheál O’Hehir. I used to theorise that O’Hehir introduced the term to Ireland after the 1947 All-Ireland Football Final in New York.
However, Myles na gCopaleen, an earliest user of the word (though he often spelt it without a ‘c’), was not a GAA enthusiast, which contradicts my theory. Additionally, an article in a 1929 edition of the Evening Herald referencing a court hearing at London’s Old Bailey used the word, causing some confusion.
A Hebrew professor, when asked to elaborate, labelled it as “Jewish slang from the East End, the birthplace of many popular terms”. He further clarified that it was derived from the German word “schlim,” meaning slim, and the Hebrew term “mazzal,” signifying planet. As used in astrology context, these combined to suggest misfortune or situations where unlucky individuals are involved.
Earlier instances of the term in Ireland include a court incident from Waterford in 1954 that dealt with a three-vehicle accident near the city’s hospital involving a motorbike, car, and ambulance. Some idea of the dramatic narrative of the Munster Express’s coverage can be found in its headlines, which made reference to the ‘appalling’ application of brakes and raised questions about the sobriety of the drivers. The individuals involved seemed to be schlimazels in the original unlucky sense, and the mishap can definitely be described as a schemozzle in the later context.
The term started being used in GAA reports not long afterwards. A classic example is seen in the aftermath of a shocking upset in the 1955 Munster Championship, where Clare emerged victorious over Cork. The narrative implied that the defeat of Cork may have been due to the omission of a key defender from their side – this player, deemed ‘man of the match’ in his absence, was Jerry O’Riordan. It was speculated that if he had participated, the result could have been different. With his excellent defensive skills, O’Riordan would have proven to be an indispensable asset during the chaotic moments that transpired near the Cork goal post.
It’s plausible that O’Riordan possessed the knack for delivering ‘schleps’, be it in the contexts of Kerry or Yiddish or perhaps both. Around 1955, another ‘sch’ phrase was certainly laying its roots here. To reference a separate tale by James Joyce, Ireland was ubiquitously engulfed in ‘schemozzles’ by the end of the 1950s.