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SPRING 2008–ADAR 2 5768 • VOLUME VII, ISSUE 1

Naming Eve

By Alieza Salzberg
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At the beginning of the book of Bereishit, the power to name is reserved for those atop the hierarchy; God labels his creations, Adam names the animals and, finally, Adam defines Eve. Does naming always have to be an act of control, emanating from the more powerful to the weaker, dependant one? Or can we envision a naming that emerges from a mutual sense of partnership and out of intimate knowledge of the Other? Adam names Eve twice in the days following creation: first Isha, a feminine version of his own name, and later after their act of disobedience, Chava or Eve, “mother of all living.” Why was there a need for a new name? What do these names tell us about the couple, and how did their sinning change their relationship? 

Language is the most important resource in the Garden of Eden. God constructs the world with the building blocks of words. And after God creates, he names: “God called the light day, and the darkness God called night” (Bereishit 1:5). God names the sky, the land, and the seas. Through definitions, God finishes creation.

At the end of creation, we are told that humanity is made in God’s image and, as such, is given the power of creativity – “be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth, and master it,” (Bereishit 1:28) – just like God. It follows that mastering the world must include the power of speech, the ability to define our reality through language. This responsibility to name is made explicit when God parades the animals in front of Adam, curious as to what he will label them. Moreover, Adam’s appellations become official: “whatever man called each living creature, that would be its name,” (Bereishit 2:19). In naming each animal individually, Adam takes up the mantle of creativity.

In the process of classification, God hopes man will find an “ezer kenegdo,” a partner to cure Adam’s loneliness, “but for Adam no fitting helper was found” (2:20). The naming process does not produce a mate— instead, it emphasizes Adam’s uniqueness. Adam labels the animals from a distance, lacking communion with the objects of his creativity, alienated by the realization that he is alone as the only speaking and naming being in Eden. God is still his only companion.

Midrash Bereishit Rabba, inspired by the compatibility of Man and God, imagines the two communing with one another through the process of naming. God asks man what he would like to call himself and he replies, “I would enjoy being called Adam because I was created from the earth (adama)” (Bereishit Rabba 17:4). Remarkably, God then asks Adam to name God. Adam responds: Ado-nai, “Adon kol Briyotekha, Master of all of Your creations.” As opposed to Adam’s naming of the animals, this moment in the midrash is intimate and mutual, as God, the creator of the world, empowers Adam by inviting him to participate. 

“Language is the most important resource in the Garden of Eden.”

This midrash presents a model of mutual respect, where God reaches across the power differential and opens up a space for Adam, an invitation which he accepts with reverence. While the act of naming God seems quite brazen, Adam uses the opportunity to humble himself and highlight his dependence on God. In the etymologies of both names, Adam describes the relationship of created and Creator: Adam, created from the ground (adama), and Ado-nai, Master of His creations. Despite Adam’s reciprocal experience with God, this model of mutual respect will not be emulated in the coming relationship with his wife. 

Woman’s creation follows on the heels of Adam’s disappointment in encountering the animal kingdom; Adam notices that she is similar to himself, unlike the mute beasts. But as he has been trained, Adam’s first reaction is to name her as well, fulfilling his divine impulse to master, lowering her status to that of an object. One can imagine that he feels that he has birthed her, created her and so has a right to name her. Unlike the midrashic scene in which Adam respectfully names God, when meeting his partner there is no reciprocity or permission granted to define the Other. Speaking about his wife in third person, perhaps in conversation with God, Adam says, “This one at last is bone of my bones flesh of my flesh. This one shall be called woman (isha), for from man (ish) she was taken.” (Bereishit 2:23). Adam fails to converse with his wife, to listen to her, or to discover her independent personality. Rather, he makes a quick estimation that she is just like him and produces a name that is the mirror of his own. 

While the text records no conversation between the couple in all of Bereishit, Isha does know how to speak. Before the sin, she talks not to God, nor to Adam, but to the snake. She internalizes Adam’s treatment of her as a lesser being, sensing that he has not accepted her as an equal, leaving her in the company of the animals. After she and the snake animatedly debate the consequences of eating from the tree of knowledge, Isha silently hands Adam the fruit, and he silently accepts and eats. 

Later, in conversation with God, Adam will claim that the sin was not his fault: “the woman you provided me, she gave me from the tree and I ate” (Bereishit 3:12). Adam talks again in third person about his wife and his partner is silent, not defending herself or taking part in what might have been a three-way discussion. When analyzing Adam’s alibi we must ask: why did he not engage her in conversation? Why didn’t Ish try to reason with Isha and stop her? Did he even ask her which tree this fruit was from? They seem to live in silence! Adam does not fully grasp her independent agency and her very real power to speak, reason, and sin. 

When the dust settles after the act of disobedience and God lays out punishments for the couple, Adam names his wife yet again. This time he names her “Chava, Em Kol Chai”- “Eve, mother of all living,” (Bereishit 3:20). There is no obvious reason that woman requires a new name or that Adam should feel the need to continue to play the role of namer. This oddity begs us to contrast her new name to the first one. 

If, in Adam’s first attempt to name his partner, he ignored almost all difference, putting Isha in his back pocket, like a diminutive version of himself, this new name does highlight the difference between the two. The title ‘Adam’ and the newly minted ‘Eve’ both reflect the punishments as well as the newly articulated gender roles. Adam will spend his days toiling in the field, fighting back weeds in order to feed himself and his family; “the adama (earth) is cursed” because of him (Bereishit 3:17). In contrast, woman is punished with the harsh labor pains of child bearing that only Eve, “mother of all living” will experience.

In changing his partner’s name in the wake of the sin, Adam acknowledges in awe, or maybe confusion, that there is a fascinating being standing in front of him, one who can do something he cannot – bear children. The naming, however, is recorded in the text before Eve actually gives birth and thus relates to her potential to create in general. Just as Adam and God define and shape the world, the name Eve represents woman’s creative nature. If we recall the earlier Midrash, “Master of Your Creation,” the source of the name Adam gave to God is parallel to the concept of “Mother of all Living,” the source behind the name Eve. In both, Adam recognizes the power of the Other. Further, Adam admits that he is dependent on Eve if he is to have a reproductive role in the world, just as, in the midrashic naming of God, Adam recognized his dependence on his creator. Perhaps Adam finally recognizes his wife’s fullness of being, and repents for his initial naming of her, which missed the mark of her agency and potency.

At the birth of Cain, Eve echoes the sentiments embedded in her new name. The text records her naming of Cain: “I have gained a male child with the help of the Lord” (4:1). In giving birth, she recognizes that she is continuing the work of creation in partnership with God. Further the work of physical creation is tied to her linguistic power, as she takes the role of naming her son. This passage raises other questions. Where is Adam in the naming of the two children? Why does the text not explain the reasoning behind Abel’s name? These silences require analysis beyond the scope of this article, but for the purpose of our reading, we might imagine that silence persists between the couple—the initial break has not been healed by Adam’s realization and subsequent renaming of his wife.

While I have suggested that the name Eve may reflect a positive change—though not a complete revolution—in the first couple’s relationship, the midrashic literature is not as optimistic about mutual respect after the sin. One midrash, also curious about the extraneous renaming, describes a less flattering meaning for “Chava:” Adam accusatorily says Eve was meant “to give life (lechayoto),” but instead she “gave advice like a snake (chiva)” (Bereishit Rabba 20:11). In this midrash, there is no hint of intimacy. Rather, the new name reflects the recriminations Adam directs at his wife, holding himself as an innocent victim, tricked by his wife, who is akin to the snake who misled her. Despite the negative tone of this interpretation of the name, here too, Adam admits to Eve’s creative powers, albeit to their dangerous side. She is not a meek “ezer kenegdo (helpmate)” upon whom Adam can blindly rely to do his bidding.

“…the name Eve represents woman’s creative nature.”

Another distressing midrash questions why Adam would identify Eve as a mother, seeing as the couple do not produce any children between the birth of their first two sons, Cain and Abel, and Seth who is born 130 years later. According to the midrash, Adam repents and fasts for 130 years after the sin, during which time he is celibate. Still, says the midrash, Eve is called “mother of all living” because during these years she and Adam arouse the demons or spirits with whom they reproduce and populate the spirit world during their abstinence. Their separation, which is a result of the sin, and perhaps an outgrowth of their lack of communication from the start, continues to “birth” harmful spirits in the world.

These latter midrashim suggest a sad ending to the story of Adam and Eve— not managing to be each other’s mate as God had hoped. During their years of separation they do not create human children, failing to fulfill their potential as mother and father, as creators in God’s image. One could only imagine Eve continuing to chafe under a name that identities her as a mother, as Adam demands abstinence and prevents her from fulfilling that creativity. Perhaps they struggle with conversation for 130 years until they finally reach reconciliation, signaled by the birth of Seth late in their lives.

According to the simple reading of the biblical text, the name Eve does not reflect recrimination or distance on Adam’s part, as some of the darker midrashim suggest. Rather, in our reading we have privileged the positive relationship described in the first midrash we raised, and rely on the model of God and Adam’s mutually respectful naming as a way to redeem this couple. The name Eve, given immediately after the sin, may hint at a moment of realization, the start of reconciliation. Adam trades the bland title Isha for Chava, a name that embodies his wife—a living, breathing, independent woman, who may surprise him, may tempt him, may support him, and may create children with him—if only they can learn to talk to one another. 

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About the Author

Alieza Salzberg

Alieza Salzberg is currently studying in Matan’s Advanced Talmudic Institute and pursuing an MA in Talmud at BarIlan University. She recently completed an MA in Creative Writing at City College, and teaches Talmud, Aggada, and “Creative Torah-Creative Writing Workshops” in Jerusalem. Alieza blogs about Talmud, feminism and literature at www.gufakashya.com.

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