D'var Torah for Parshat Vayishlach

D’var Torah for Parshat Vayishlach
12-13 December 2008 ~ 16 Kislev 5769

“What’s in a name?” asked Shakespeare.

Just about everything – as we discover in this week’s parsha, which is unsurpassed in conveying the transformational power of names and naming.

At the very beginning of the Torah, God brings to Adam all of the animals to find out what he would call them; later, Adam names his wife “Chava”, and then “Chava” participates in the naming of their son, “Kayin”. On it goes, with lists of genealogies and name etymologies charting the first generations of humankind. We see, through these opening chapters of Breishit, an ongoing dynamic of human beings being named, calling out to God by name, and all the while trying to create a “name” for themselves.

In a pithy midrash, from Tanhuma, we learn about how names evolve in our lives, and the complexity of identity that is wrapped up in our names:

You find that a person is called by three names: one that his father and his mother call him, one that people call him; and one that he acquires for himself. The greatest of all of these is the one that he acquires for himself. ~(Midrash Tanchuma, Vayak’heil 1)

I often use this midrash as an icebreaker, and I’ve found that these deceptively simple three lines open up a world of identity exploration. The name that you are called by your father and mother – why did they choose that name for you? Who are you named after, and what are their stories? The name that you are called by others – are these nicknames? Titles? Are you known by different names in different settings? And the name that you acquire for yourself – is this a different name from the others? Is this an actual name, or is it really your reputation? How do you acquire a name?

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayeshev, Ya’akov experiences a transformation in relation to his name that can be illuminated through this midrash.

First, there is the name that he is called by his father and mother. “Ya’akov” is connected with eikev, heel; we are told that he came out with “his hand grasping Esav’s heel”. It seems that he is called this by both his father and his mother – the text does not make clear who specifically named him.

As Ya’akov grows up, he has a complex relationship (to put it mildly) with his name. He is called “beni” (my son) by his mother, Rivka, as she helps him prepare to deceive Yitzhak, his father. Moments later, when Yitzhak asks him, “Mi atah, beni” – Who are you, my son – Ya’akov answers, “Anochi Esav” – I am Esav. A few pesukim later, Yitzhak presses him: “Atah zeh beni Esav” – Are you, this one, my son Esav? Ya’akov answers, simply, “Ani” – I am. He leaves that “Ani” hanging, as if to say that he has no name, or perhaps he has actually lost or squandered his name, surrendering his own identity in order to deceive his father and acquire the blessing.

Second, there is the name that he is called by others. After Esav realizes that Ya’akov has grabbed the blessing, he says bitterly, “Was his name called Ya’akov, that he should trip me now twice by the heels? My birthright he took, and look, now, he’s taken my blessing.” The heart of this statement, “ya’akveni zeh pa’amayim” – he has tripped me up twice by my heels – is a bitter pun by Esav. The name “Ya’akov” here is pejorative, spit out by Esav in response to his brother’s devious dealings.

When Jacob flees to Haran, he begins a new life there, acquiring new roles, though not new names. He becomes husband, father, head of household, and indentured servant to Lavan. What’s fascinating is that Ya’akov is not called by name – not by God in their pivotal interaction at the sulam (ramp) at Beit El; not by Rachel when he meets her at the well; not by Lavan when they meet; not by Leah, who continually refers to him as “ishi” – my husband – but not as Ya’akov. The Torah records no direct conversation during Ya’akov’s two decades in Haran when he is called by his actual name. And, during this time, his first eleven sons and daughter are all named by their mothers; the nearly nameless Ya’akov remains silent and does not participate in the potent act of naming another.

Which brings us to this week’s parsha. We find Ya’akov journeying back to his homeland, Canaan – he has managed to extricate himself from his business and family ties with Lavan through a mix of deception, cunning, negotiation, and tenacity, and now he is returning laden with wealth and a huge family and entourage. When he learns that Esav is on his way to meet him, along with 400 men, Ya’akov experiences tremendous fear and responds with physical and spiritual measures – he divides everyone with him into two camps; he sends gifts to try to charm his estranged brother; and he prays to God for protection and help. And then he does something curious – in the middle of the night, he sends everyone and everything he has across the Yabbok ford, and remains completely, starkly alone. There, he encounters an “ish” who grapples with him in an existential wrestling match. The commentators, classical and modern, have a field day with this “ish”, trying to determine whether he is a stranger, or Esav, or an angel, or some kind of river demon, or God, or – perhaps – an external manifestation of Ya’akov’s internal struggles. Regardless of who this “ish” is, I want to focus on what he says, in Breishit 32: 28 – 31:

And he said, “Let me go, for dawn is breaking.”
And he said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
(Here, Jacob is true to his character – he is the bargainer, trying to work a deal. The text continues…)
And he said to him, “What is your name?”
And he said, “Ya’akov”
Finally, after 20 years, after flight and toil and success, after evolving from son and brother to husband and father, Ya’akov has come full circle. He is again asked a fundamental question of identity. When his father had asked, Ya’akov in effect swallowed his own name and his own identity, saying only “Ani…”. This time, he drops Ani – he drops all pretenses – and answers with simple force, “Ya’akov”. The “ish” then responds…
And he said, “Not Ya’akov shall your name hence be said, but Yisrael, for you have striven with God and men, and you were able (to win).”
Ya’akov is transformed. Sensing the power and importance of names, he responds to the “ish”,
“Tell your name, pray”
And he said, “Why should you ask my name?” and there he blessed him.

The blessing, for Ya’akov, is this new name, “Yisrael,” which encapsulates his identity, his experience, and – crucially – his potential for transcendence.

Ya’akov names this place “Peniel” – Face of God – meaning, the text tells us, “I have seen God face-to-face and I came out alive,” for he understands his experience with the “ish” as one of deep significance. The subsequent scenes bear this out – Ya’akov has his confrontation with Esav, which ends with a tense peace between the brothers. He journeys to Succot, where he builds himself a house. And he arrives shalem – whole, complete – to the land of Shechem.

Of course, things do not remain shalem for Ya’akov – his daughter is raped, and his sons respond by slaying the men of Shechem and plundering the town. Soon afterward, his beloved wife, Rachel, dies in childbirth, and later in the narrative Ya’akov will hear (and believe for many years) that his favored son, Yosef, has been torn to death by wild beasts.

The struggles do not end for Ya’akov. In stark contrast to his forebears Sarai and Avram – who became Sarah and Avraham, and were never again called by their previous names – the names Ya’akov and Yisrael will be used interchangeably the rest of his life. Even his renaming from Ya’akov to Yisrael will occur again, in Chapter 35, when God tells him, “Your name Jacob, no longer shall your name be called Jacob, but Yisrael shall be your name.”

Once he acquires the name Yisrael, Ya’akov finally understands the power of naming and recognizes that blessing can be inherent in a name. In the fraught and terrible moment as Rachel is dying, she calls her newborn son “Ben-Oni” (son of my sorrow or son of my vigor), but his father calls him "Binyamin" – son of the right hand or son of the south. Finally, Ya’akov/Yisrael is participating in the awesome act of naming a child.

Ya’akov’s struggle with the name he was called at birth and the name by which he was known to others led to a transformation of his identity, his self-understanding, and, ultimately, of his name. This name, Yisrael, becomes our name: as Jews, we are members of what is known as “B’nei Yisrael” (the children of Yisrael). It is a name that embodies for each of us all three stages from the midrash on names: We are given this name – this aspect of our identity – by our father and mother; we are known to others, and to the world, by this name, "Yisrael". And we choose the ways in which we acquire the name “Yisrael” as part of our identity. Over generations, how we choose to express this identity will impact the eternal making and re-making of the name “Yisrael” itself.

So this brings us back to ultimate questions:

What’s in a name?

What’s in your name?

Shabbat shalom.