Do You Use Your Hebrew Name?

I was born in a generation where the majority of non-Orthodox American Jews gave their children a “Jewish name” based on the first letter of the name of the person they wished to memorialize. (Sefardic Jews have a custom of naming their children after living relatives. Ashkenazi Jews almost universally name for the deceased.) Thus, Jewish parents might name a daughter Barbara after a great grandmother whose name was Bluma. They might name a son Mark after a grandfather who was Menachem.

 

There were two realities in the non-Orthodox American Jewish world into which I was born. First, Hebrew (or sometimes Yiddish) names were very Old World and even slightly embarrassing. (Think Shprintza or Zelig). And second, no one was expected to actually use the name, except for ritual purposes, like during a bris or a wedding.

 

For the past few generations of American Jews, a Hebrew name was a vestige, held onto for sentimental reasons. Many American Jews my age have little to no relationship with their Hebrew name, if they even remember what it is.

 

My husband is a rabbi. He tells a story about something that happened often when meeting with a family before conducting a funeral. He would ask the mourners what the Hebrew name of the deceased was. They often didn’t know. Sometimes they would guess. “I think it was Freska,” one surviving child might say. It sounds vaguely Yiddish, if you don’t happen to be thinking of soft drinks.

 

My father, may he rest in peace, insisted that his Hebrew name was Gedasha. I was relatively newly religious when he passed away and I had never heard of the name Gedasha. I asked around and couldn’t find anyone familiar with it. Several years later, I was learning about the Twelve Tribes and read their names in order. When I came to the names of the sons of ZIlpa, I realized that my father’s Hebrew name must have been Gad Asher, which, perhaps as a child, he heard as Gedasha.

 

Like others in my generation, I was given a Hebrew name that no one expected me to ever use. I was named Rivkah after my mother’s grandfather Reuben, whose Hebrew name was Reuven. Growing up, my Catholic friends adopted saint names. And that’s pretty much how I thought of my Hebrew name.

 

Until I became religious.

 

Over a period of a few years, I transitioned from using my English name to using my Hebrew name exclusively. Today, it’s my legal name and even my mother calls me Rivkah now. The only place my original name appears is on my birth certificate and diplomas. I’ve been Rivkah for so long, I don’t even relate to my old name anymore. I also have a Yiddish middle name that, thanks to Fiddler on the Roof, I find embarrassing and don’t use (or even confess to).

 

My children, born in America to religious parents, weren’t given English names. However, we were mindful to pick names that were easy for non-Hebrew speakers to pronounce.

 

I was curious how other people related to their Hebrew names, so I asked some friends to weigh in. Some people only began using their Hebrew names when Judaism became more important to them and/or when they moved to Israel. Rarer is the experience of this friend who said, “I started using my Hebrew name as a way to make a large emotional change, along with a huge life change, not related to becoming religious.”

 

Some feel that using their Hebrew name is a spiritual act of self-awareness. One friend said that she, “didn't really discover who I was, or understand myself, until I not only began using my Hebrew name(s), but understood what they meant.” Another friend said, “I believe that the Hebrew name we receive is divinely inspired and I feel my name describes my essence.” A third said, “I believe our name is deeply connected with our soul.”

 

Another friend who has a Biblical Hebrew name said, “My father had a way of helping my sister, brother and me identifying with the person from the Torah who had our names. My father said we were also named for that person in the Torah. I love my name.”

 

Others have a more complicated relationship with their English and Hebrew names. One friend said, “Honestly, I prefer my English name. Since I used it for so long it's more ‘me’ than my Hebrew name. Also, my parents really gave me my Hebrew name to fulfill an obligation (i.e. naming me after my grandfather). My English name is the one they truly wanted.”

 

Another friend said, “I've tried many times to switch from the secular name I grew up with to my Hebrew and legal name in Israel. But my English name is so catchy and just suits me - once anyone hears it once they switch from calling me (my Hebrew name) to (my English name).”

 

Another friend felt that her Hebrew name didn’t suit her. “I feel like I am not ‘worthy’ of the name… Once I tried to adopt a different Hebrew name and it was a huge failure, so I am quite sure I belong to it. But I use my English name.”

 

Adults who have strong Jewish identities are more likely to give their children exclusively Hebrew names. Of course, it’s much easier to do that today when authentic ethnic expression is socially valued.

 

As one friend said, “One of the reasons we merited to leave Egypt is because we kept our Jewish names. I am a strong believer that we shouldn't have any other names. My parents felt that way and I gave my children only Jewish names as well. I feel like we should be called by the same name that identifies our neshama (soul), the same name we would use if being called to the Torah or in need of Tehillim (Psalms).”