What's in a Name

Sermon for Parashat Vayishlach at a "Mispacha Shabbat," a service designed to be engaging to all members of the family, young and old.

Let me tell you a story. It’s a story about my great-great-great grandmother and my great-great-great grandfather, and their son, my great-great grandfather. My great-great-great grandfather, Shlomo, was a farmer. And his wife, my great-great-great grandmother Rayzel, ran the family store and managed all of the finances.

One day, Rayzel to Shlomo: “We’re going to have a baby!” They were so excited! They moved the goats outside so there could be space for a crib, they made sure to put their various sharp, pointy farming equipment in carefully locked cabinets. They pulled out boxes of their favorite toys from when they were children.

Rayzel went to the shtetl’s Lamaze class. And Shlomo, he just did a lot of pacing.

Eventually, the big day came and they had a beautiful baby boy. Shlomo handed out chewing gum to everyone in the town. He was a wise man and knew the dangers of smoking.

Then, Rayzel and Shlomo realized they hadn’t picked a name yet! They had a big argument about it. Rayzel wanted to name the baby after her father, and Shlomo wanted to name the baby after his father.

So, they went to their rabbi to solve the problem. Lucky for them, they lived in Kotzk and the Kotzker Rebbe was known for being very wise.

Rayzel and Shlomo told him the whole story. About the goats and the pointy things and the pacing and the gum. The rabbi asked, Rayzel, “Rayzel, what was your father’s name?” “Nachum,” she replied. And then the rabbi asked Shlomo, “Shlomo, what was your father’s name.” “Nachum!” He replied.

The rabbi jumped up out of chair and cried, “Why have you two been arguing!?”

Rayzel said, “My father was a scholar and a religious man. His father was a horse-thief! How can I name my baby after such a creature?”

“Ahhhh,” the rabbi said. He paused, and thought for a moment. Rayzel had a point, but he didn’t wish to hurt Shlomo’s feelings. And after all…Nachum is Nachum, isn’t it?

So he said, “Rayzel, you want your baby named after your father?” “Yes.” “And Shlomo, you want this baby named after your father?” “Yes.”

“Then here is my advice. The baby shall be named Nachum. If, after time, he grows to be a scholar, he is named after Rayzel’s father. If, however, he grows to be a horse-thief, then he is named after Shlomo’s father!”

Whether it’s in Jewish tradition or in American culture, our names matter. It’s how we invoke the past and dream about our futures. Our names are a chance to say something about who we are and who we hope to become.

I learned this great teaching about names from one of my classmates in Jerusalem. It goes like this:

Every time a person does more mitzvot, they earn themselves a new name. There are three names by which a person is called: one which their parents call them, one which people call them, and one which they earn for themselves. The last is the best one of all (Midrash Tanhuma, Vayakhel, Siman 1)

The last one, the name that we earn for ourselves, that is the name that matters most.

Take Jacob for example. In Hebrew, his name is Ya'akov, which comes from the word that means “heel” because he was holding onto his twin brother’s heel when they were born. Jacob faces some challenges in his youth. He gets a reputation for deception and trickery as he tries to find his way in the world. But, now, our patriarch has grown up. And now we arrive at this week’s story.

Jacob is anxiously waiting for his reunion with his twin brother. And then, the night before, he wrestles with this mysterious being, an eesh. And by the end of that struggle, Jacob demands a blessing. The eesh, many commentators call it an angel, tells him that he shall no longer be called Jacob. Instead his name will be Yisrael, a wordplay on wrestling with God.

This is the name that Jacob earns. Israel. The one who struggles and engages and strives with God. This new name is like a trophy; it’s way to describe the man so we know who he is and who he can be. It’s the name he earned and the name that the world will know him by.

Not only that, but it is the name of the Jewish people. His descendants are the Israelites and we are all b’nai yisrael, the children of Israel.

At this point, for us, Israel is our given name. It’s the one we inherit from our parents and grandparents. It’s about the kind of people and community we have come from and the hope of whom we might be. A community that wrestles with God and with the mysteries of the universe. Not a bad given name.

But, what is the name we want to earn? How, by our deeds, will the world know what it means to be b’nai yisrael? Who do we aspire to be?

I wonder, what are we going to wrestle with and how we will wrestle? Is this an opportunity for us to act and to behave in a way that allows us to earn a new name?

Here’s the name I hope we earn.

Well, before that, let me give you a little background. I’m working on my thesis. For the kids who don’t know what a thesis is…it’s like a book report for grownups. But instead of one book, it’s like a whole bookshelf. And, at the moment, thesis is pretty much the only thing on my mind. You’re lucky it took me this long to talk about it! Anyway, there’s this rabbi from Chicago. And in a sermon he gave in 1899 (!) he talked about a name that I hope we can earn. He said that the Jewish people are called to be priests of justice and righteousness.

Most importantly, it’s not a name that we just get. It’s a name that we have to earn. A name that we only achieve when we act and behave that way. Just like Nachum, we won’t really know who we are until we start to act. And, this Shabbat, I pray, that we can start to be worthy not just of the name Israel, those who struggle with God, and maybe even earn the name Yisra-tzedek, those who struggle who strive who demand a world of justice, righteousness, and compassion.

Kein yehi razton. Shabbat shalom.