What's in a Name

Names. We Jews place a lot of importance on them. The Bible, for example, spends what seems like an inordinate amount of time discussing names, reasons for names and name changes. Why? Because a name is so much more than a collection of letters. It is us, our identity, who we present to the world.

Our full Hebrew names are used during milestone events throughout our lives—when we are named as babies, when we are called to the Torah as adults, on the ketubah read at our wedding. When someone is sick, we recite their name in a special prayer, using the formula of full name + son/daughter of mother’s name. An individual who is critically ill may even undergo a name change, adding a name evocative of healing and life, like Raphael or Chaya. After death, the name of the deceased is mentioned every holiday during the Yizkor services, and a strong tradition among many Jews is to name children after deceased relatives.

A name is one of the most personal things about us. When we want to get to know someone, the first thing we do is tell them our name. Using a person’s name instantly creates a connection. You immediately feel closer to someone when they greet you with “Good morning, Dan/Alice/Hank/[insert your name here]” instead of just “Good morning.”

And a name takes what could be an anonymous, faceless tragedy and makes it heartbreakingly personal. The Children’s Memorial at Yad Vashem, for example, is simply a dark, quiet room with a recording naming every single child murdered during the Shoah. Listen to the name, and suddenly the tragedy becomes real. Names have a way of seeping into your being, forming a bond, making you feel the loss acutely, even if you never met the person.

Last week, a small town in Connecticut endured unspeakable horror. 27 children and adults, murdered in cold blood. But they weren’t just “27 children and adults.” They were Ana, Dylan and Daniel. Charlotte and Madeleine. Grace and Noah. Reading through each name yanks at something emotional and raw deep inside of us, the part that connects us to other human beings.

One of the formulations we say after someone dies is “May the neshama (soul) have an aliyah (ascend higher in heaven).” After what happened last Friday, there is nothing I can say. I have no words of wisdom or of comfort. I just have silent tears and a prayer for the 27 neshamot to have an aliyah:

Charlotte Bacon, age 6

Daniel Barden, age 7

Olivia Engel, age 6

Josephine Gay, age 7

Ana Marquez-Greene, age 6

Dylan Hockley, age 6

Madeleine Hsu, age 6

Catherine Hubbard, age 6

Chase Kowalski, age 7

Jesse Lewis, age 6

James Mattioli, age 6

Grace McDonnell, age 7

Emilie Parker, age 6

Jack Pinto, age 6

Noah Pozner, age 6

Caroline Previdi, age 6

Jessica Rekos, age 6

Avielle Richman, age 6

Benjamin Wheeler, age 6

Allison N. Wyatt, age 6

Rachel Davino, age 29

Dawn Hochsprung, age 47

Nancy Lanza, age 52

Anne Marie Murphy, age 52

Lauren Rousseau, age 30

Mary Sherlach, age 56

Victoria Soto, age 27