Why Name
One of the most striking images in the entire Hebrew bible appears in this week’s Torah portion. Jacob is finally returning home, but he will have to face his estranged brother Esau. On the eve before the encounter, Jacob crosses a river, and in the middle of the night wrestles with an anonymous person. We never learn who exactly this person is, but as a result of this wrestling, the figure blesses Jacob with a new name, Yisrael, “one who wrestles with God”. Most of the classical commentators assume this figure was an angel. But Jacob, like us, was curious to know who he had been wrestling with. “Jacob asked [the angel], ‘Please tell me your name.’ But [the angel] said, ‘Why do you ask about my name?’ And [the angel] took leave of him there (Genesis 32:20).
What is the significance of Jacob wanting to know this person or angel’s name? Here are a number of the medieval scholars, offering us clues to why names and naming matter:
1. Rashi, Identity, Essence: We (angels) have no fixed names; our names change, all depending upon the service we are commanded to carry out as the errand with which we are charged (based on Genesis Rabbah 78:4).
Rashi’s opinion suggests that angels are not nameable, or rather that their name is their function, which swiftly changes. Angels are not entities the way we think about a human, or a dog, or a tree. They are energies summoned for a purpose. One Talmudic teaching (Chagigah 14a) suggests that angels are created anew every morning from a fiery river, sing a song to God, and then dissolve back into the flow. Their separateness, the specificity necessary to name them as one distinct from another, is mostly an illusion.
2. Ramban, Calling on (like a parent): There is no advantage to you in knowing my name for no one possesses the power and the capability other than God alone. If you will call upon me I will not answer you, nor will I save you from your trouble…
Ramban sees the angel refusing to share their name because they don’t want Jacob to mistakenly think he can call on the angel for help later. Knowing a name is necessary for us to summon or seek help from something.
3. Sforno, Problem solving: [Jacob said: I want to know a name] which would describe your essence, your function, and how you would go about performing the same. This would enable me to understand why you attacked me in the first place. I would then be able to do penitence for my sin, something I cannot do as long as I do not know what precisely my sin consists of.
Sforno helps us remember that naming the problem correctly is often the first step in solving it.
4. Bechor Shor, Reputation: Because the winner wants to publicize his name in order that his power be remembered, but the loser does not want to publicize his shame.
Although the wrestling match ended in a tie, perhaps the angel was embarrassed to admit they couldn’t defeat a human! In any case, we want our name attached to achievements rather than failures.
5. Or HaChaim, Usefulness: Whereas it made sense that the angel asked Jacob's name seeing he intended to change it to Israel, or at least, to inform him of that impending change. Jacob's asking the angel for his name did not have such a purpose, however. The angel therefore wanted to know the reason for Jacob's enquiry.
The Or HaChaim points out that often we don’t need to figure out something’s name unless we have a need for it. I haven’t the foggiest clue what most surgeon’s tools are called, because I am not in a position to need to ask for them.
Naming is deep in our human nature. In the Torah’s tale of how everything began, God gives humans uniquely the task of naming all of the creatures (Genesis 2:9-10). Presumably, this meant naming each species, lion and tiger and bear and so on.
But Kathryn Hymes, writing for the Atlantic, discusses how humans are hard-wired to name things personally, not just referring to them by category. For instance, some of us at least give personal names to our cars, boats, phones, stuffed animals, mugs, potted plants, etc. Naming is a form of connection building. Hymes notes that with this act of naming even inanimate objects, we remember them better, bond with them more, and are less likely to replace them the moment they have the slightest flaw. Naming shifts our stance towards others.
Perhaps there was a good reason the angel refused to be pinned down by a name. But when we look around at the world, we may not be able to afford letting plants and animals remain anonymous to us. We need to be building deeper relationships with not just birds, but House Finches and Stellar’s Jays (and maybe even with Finn the Finch or, Sally the bluebird, if we are lucky enough to see one regularly). If we collectively name the trees and plants around us, either personally, scientifically, or by indigenous names, we will help ourselves invest even more in preserving and conserving our habitat.
Local author Lyanda Lynn Haupt, in her book Rooted, writes: “Try these things: Keep field guides everywhere. And topographical maps. Read them like novels, like holy texts, like poems. Learn the names of new-to-you wild beings or landmarks in your home region, then create your own living names for these same things. Respect Indigenous names. Listen for the earth to whisper a new name for yourself, and tell it to everyone or to no one. When you are at a loss, put your ear to the forest floor, or the bark of a tree, or tilt it toward the clouds. See what wordless language points you along your path.”
Let’s name ourselves into belonging, and name ourselves into love, and name ourselves into hard-won commitment to hope.
Rabbi Jay LeVine
