Naming and Names in Life
״שלושה שמות נקראו לו לאדם:
אחר מה שקוראים לו אביו ואמו,
ואחד מה שקוראין לו בני אדם,
ואחד מה שקונה הוא לעצמו.
טוב מכולן מה שקונה הוא
לעצמו״ (תנחומא, ויקהל)
“People are called by three names: One is the name the person is called by his father and mother; one is the name people call him/her; and one is the name the person acquires for him/herself. The last is the best one”. (Tanhuma, Vayakheil 1)
This beautiful midrash invites us to reflect on the human phenomena of naming and being named. Indeed, names are not a small matter. We carry them through our lives, and they become inherent to our identity in the world. Naming a person is a relational act involving at least two human beings, thus its ethical character. Let us further reflect on what this action of naming entails.
What does one do when one calls someone by name or when attributing a name? On the surface of things and in our daily use, the act of naming is purely instrumental as, for example, in calling for a person’s attention. Providing people with first names or, more generally, relating to people by their names, helps us also to single them out and thus to acknowledge their singularity, as when Adam names the animals (Gen. 2:20). However, the verse in Genesis concludes by saying: “but for Adam no fitting partner was found”. These words point to an additional dimension of naming, its relational dimension. In naming the animals, Adam wasn’t only looking to sort and classify the beings, but also to see in what way they related to him, as beings with whom he could intimately act in partnership in the world. In other words, the act of naming is an act of identification and connection, which establishes a relationship between human beings.
In this perspective, it is interesting to point to the three different agents with the ability of conferring a name on a person that are mentioned by the midrash: one’s parents, people in the society one lives in, and oneself. Given the end of the midrash, “the name one acquires for oneself”, which points beyond a formal act of naming, we are invited to move towards a more philosophical meaning, that is, to those agents who contribute to one’s own name, to one’s identity. Indeed, “to make a name for ourselves” (Gen. 11:4) refers to a reputation, an identity, the way someone is and would like to be perceived. A more subtle reading of the midrash invites us to think about the role of these three agents and the potential impact they may have on a person’s life and evolving identity. Here, I agree with Paul Ricoeur, and not with the popular myth about the existence of a fixed “true authentic self”. Following Ricoeur, it is only through a complex web of relationships and the internalization of experiences and meaning that one develops an identity over time. In this philosophical perspective, the third part of the midrash, “the name one acquired for oneself” may also refer to our different internal voices and the identity that one shapes for oneself out of these.
“The act of naming is an act of identification and connection.”
The midrash may also be hinting at a chronological perspective of one’s life: initially a person’s identity is significantly shaped by his interaction with his parents, then with the surrounding society. Finally, adulthood is about the ability to become more self reflective and, consequently, to also make decisions for oneself.
While carrying a name appears to be something quite static (after all, the vast majority of people do not change their “given” or first names), the midrash seems to suggest a more dynamic view of things. One’s name, in terms of one’s identity, is something that evolves, as it is infused by interactions with various agents in life. The famous poem of Zelda (1914-1984) beautifully reflects this intrinsic relationship between one’s name and one’s identity, and how one’s name is a product of ongoing life experiences and interactions:
EACH OF US HAS A NAME
Each of us has a name
given by God
and given by our parents
Each of us has a name
given by our stature and our smile
and given by what we wear
Each of us has a name
given by the mountains
and given by our walls
Each of us has a name
given by the stars
and given by our neighbors
Each of us has a name
given by our sins
and given by our longing
Each of us has a name
given by our enemies
and given by our love
Each of us has a name
given by our celebrations
\and given by our work
Each of us has a name
given by the seasons
and given by our blindness
Each of us has a name
given by the sea
and given by
our death.
At the end of his book “The Visible and the Invisible”, the French phenomenologist Maurice Merleau-Ponty notes that naming is the visible side of the threat of a person’s non-recognition, which is the invisible side of naming. To name is “to accredit objectivity, self-identity”. Furthermore, acquiring a name is a symbolic invitation into the community of language. First, the child engages in what Merleau-Ponty calls “egocentric language”, that is a use of language that is more a matter of self expression than a means of communication with other people. Over time, the child begins to use language and attempts to integrate the world of language and thought. In this context, the child first uses the names of others and then its own name, as a way to mark his or her place besides others. The name, therefore, plays a role in the emergence of the self and the achievement of meaning through one’s interactions within the world. In this perspective, when parents attach a first name to their child, it is a moment in which they are calling a subject forth into the world. These different perspectives show us in what sense the act of naming is an act of making visible, thus its ethical dimension.
Naming and Names in a Community of Prayer
Beyond its various and very different claims, feminism has taught us the extent to which women have been made invisible in various societies and cultures. Language in general, and language used in worship in particular, is one example which reflects this invisibility. It was therefore most natural that, at the establishment of Shira Hadasha as a halakhic egalitarian minyan in Jerusalem, the most elementary aspect of communal prayer where we could do something about the language of worship was to make women’s Hebrew names visible and present in the public worship. This is especially the case since no halakhic issue whatsoever seemed to be in the way of such a move. In other words, women’s presence and acknowledgment in shul were not only to be dealt with, in and through, their active participation in Torah reading, aliyot and prayer leading, but at the most basic ethical level, through the public mentioning of their personal names in ritual, for example, inserting mothers’ names when a person is called to the Torah. In fact, this feminist awareness had an impact on men as well. Indeed, despite what an alien may think while visiting some shuls during Torah reading, men were all born from a mother. As a matter of fact, to be identified by both of your parents’ names when called up to the Torah is not a small thing as you are about to act as a responsible person and call the entire congregation to bless God’s name in public (Barkhu et Hashem Hamevorakh). By inserting mothers’ names when calling individuals to the Torah, it is not only those women in shul who are made visible, but those women who are and were mothers of our congregants, who are made visible and present as well.
“Meaning does not just occur by itself in ritual”
However, limiting ourselves to adding the names was not enough. Indeed, Shira Hadasha was established to promote among its members an ongoing striving for meaningful prayer, feminism and community life, as well as to develop and cultivate the fine and subtle connections between these three so that they may contribute in tandem to our ongoing striving to grow and serve as Ovdei/ot Hashem.
There are at least two specific instances related to the act of naming where individual and communal lives merge: at the naming of a new-born baby and during one’s first Torah aliya, at a bar or bat mitzvah. The former is the formal act of naming a baby. While boys are named at their Brit Milah and girls are often named at their Zeved Habat or Simhat Bat ceremony, at Shira Hadasha, we find it important to also celebrate this meaningful moment on Shabbat, as a community of prayer, joining our individual thanksgiving and prayers of petition together and being able to rejoice with the parents and family of the new baby. Regarding a bar or bat mitzvah, this is the first time that one is called in public to the Torah as an adult by her or his full Hebrew name and thus serves as an important act of naming for the young boy or girl and their family. Once we relate to the act of naming not as instrumental, but as an act of profound religious-existential significance especially in unique moments of life like baby namings and a bat/bar mitzvah, the community of prayer is challenged to help make these important moments of naming meaningful in real shul settings. So as I understand it, the issue of naming cannot be reduced to “should women’s names be mentioned in shul ritual?” The challenge for all of us, men and women, seems to be as follows: Since religious ritual should seriously be tied to our lives as individuals, families and members of a community, what are the ways which may be conducive to make life-cycle events like namings meaningful within the synagogue context?
More is required in order for both those celebrating and the rest of the congregants to engage and share in meaningful ways in the act of naming. Meaning does not just occur by itself in ritual. It requires preparation, presence, attention and the labor of the soul. It is important for co-daveners to cultivate a sense of empathy with their fellow congregants both in moments of joy and moments of sadness, and spiritually share with the celebrating family at the moment of naming. While the specifics of how a congregation can do this is beyond the scope of this article, reflecting on naming may help us to appreciate the significance of what otherwise tends to be seen sometimes as a simple act.