The real meaning behind names

The second book of the Torah that we commence reading this Shabbat is called “Sefer Shemot” – the Book of Names. The simple reason is that this book opens with the word “names” in its opening line: “V’eleh shemot B’nei Yisrael – Now these are the names of the children of Israel…” (Shemot 1:1).

Nevertheless, one might ask, why name an entire book after the seemingly coincidental use of a word in its opening line? Wouldn’t it be more logical to name it after its key storyline and theme, as it is referred to in most English bibles: the Book of Exodus? So much of Shemot deals with the slavery in Egypt and its immediate aftermath, including the events at the Yum Suf and Sinai and building the mishkan to house the Tablets.

But, suggested Rabbi Avraham Plotkin (the director of Chabad-Lubavitch of Markham, Ontario) in an article on Chabad.org, herein lies an important lesson about the Jewish approach to the individual member of the community. Sefer Shemot introduces us to the very first Jewish community – the new nation of Israel.

Its initial narrative tells how in a very short period of time the relatively small family of Jacob described in Bereshit successfully transformed and proliferated into a quantitatively fruitful nation. Yet, despite this amazing numeric growth, the Torah reminds us not to forget that each person has a name and must be recognised and respected. Each person has a personality, name and talents that are uniquely theirs. Maturing into a large nation should not translate into neglecting the needs of the individual, or treating him or her like a number or statistic.

To which I might add that perhaps intrinsic to this thought is the basis for Judaism’s negativity towards a straightforward national census. Our respective individualities cannot be lumped together in a single totality.

And in another vein one might also reflect on the way that just eight decades ago the enemies of Jewry and Judaism told the wretched ones of our nation still allowed to “live” before their lives were cruelly ended, that each of them was now simply the number tattooed on their arm – our enemies sought that even before they were cruelly murdered their names and individuality ceased to exist.

But what about the names themselves? A tradition that traces back to the great Kabbalist, the Arizal, presents a startling theory about people’s names. We are accustomed to think that a name is merely an arbitrary tag that we attach to a person. While it may be given to reflect past family connections or even in anticipation of a future family situation, every person could theoretically bear any name as there is no inherent connection between an individual and his or her label.

But, we are told, although prophecy no longer exists since the close of the Tenach (roughly the time of the Return to build the Second Temple), there is one small area in which we are still granted a glimpse of Divine wisdom. It comes to us when we struggle to find the right name for our offspring. And so, the Arizal taught, parents are imbued with “Ruach Hakodesh – a spark of the ‘Holy Spirit’” – when they name their children.

For, he said, the name they select is invariably the true description of the “neshamah”, or spiritual essence of their child. In fact, central to the Hebrew word for soul – “neshamah” are the middle two letters “shin” and “mem” that equate to the word “shem”, Hebrew for “name”. Hence, according to the Kabbalists, one’s name is the key to one’s soul.

Coming from a different perspective, the Talmud (Berachot 7b; Yoma 83b) already expressed a similar concept in terms of character – one’s Jewish name reflects his or her essential character.

But regarding names we can go further. The Hebrew word “shem” also has the same “gematria” (numerical value) as the word “sefer” a book. (In both cases the gematria, the sum total of the Hebrew letters that also represent numbers, is 340.)

For between “shem” and “sefer” there is a connection. Names are a book. They tell a story. The story of our spiritual potential as well as our life’s mission. That explains another fascinating rabbinic teaching to the effect that when we complete our years on this earth and face heavenly judgement, the most powerful questions we will be asked at the outset is: “What is your name” and “did you live up to it?”

In which context I would recall the famous Chassidic story told of the great Chassidic master, Reb Zusha of Anipoli: On his last day on earth Reb Zushia lay on his deathbed surrounded by his disciples. He was crying; no one could comfort him. One student asked his Rebbe, “Why do you cry? You were almost as wise as Moses and as kind as Abraham. Your merits are great.”

Reb Zusha answered: “When I pass from this world and appear before the Heavenly Tribunal, they won’t ask me, ‘Zusha, why weren’t you as wise as Moses or as kind as Abraham?’ Rather, they will ask me, ‘Zusha, why weren’t you Zusha?’ Why didn’t I fulfil my potential, why didn’t I follow the path that could have been mine? And then what will I say?”

Ultimately, it’s what you make of your name that counts. For at the beginning we are given a name and at the end of life a “good name” is all we take with us. The pages in between are the book that is the story of our life.

Shabbat shalom
Yossi

Yossi Aron OAM is The AJN’s religious affairs editor.