Name-calling: a call for respect

The very first word of the first mishnah of the first chapter of Pirkei Avot is a name: Moshe (“Moses”). This seemingly innocent mention of a name elicits a question from R’ Ovadyah Hedaya (Seh leBet Avot). How could R’ Yehudah HaNasi, when compiling this tractate, refer to Moshe as Moshe? Is there not a well-established principle of Jewish law that a talmid, a pupil, does not call his teacher by his personal name—even after his death?  (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De'ah 240:2 and 242:15). Moshe is the teacher of us all, which is why he alone of all our leaders in the Jewish bible, is given the epithet “Rabbenu” (“our teacher”). Is it not then disrespectful for the anonymous author of this mishnah to call this great man “Moshe”, and for R’ Yehudah HaNasi, when redacting it, to leave it unamended?

R’ Hedaya offers an answer. Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi is entitled to refer to the humblest of all men as “Moshe” because it is not his real name. Following his birth he would have received a name from his parents, and it is only once Pharaoh’s daughter has found and claimed him that he is given the name Moshe with the explanation Ki min hamayim mishisihu (“For I drew him from the water”: Shemot 2:10).

Although the Torah refers to him as Moshe throughout the rest of the Torah, this is out of respect for the noble life-saving action of his rescuer. In essence, however, it is only a substitute for the name that it would be disrespectful for us, his talmidim to call him. And what was his birthname? The Torah does not record it, but midrash puts forward no fewer than 10 of them. R’ Hedaya suggests Tov (per R’ Meir at Sotah 12a) or Tuvyah (per R’ Yehudah, ibidem).

Notions as to what constitutes respect clearly vary in time and space and as between the generations. When I attended school in London back in the 1950s and later in the more permissive age of the “Swinging 60s”, no child would dare to call a teacher by their first name to their face, though we all did behind their backs. Now in Israel I note that practices are very different, depending on the school, and its religious orientation.

Slightly changing the subject, I’d like to invite further exploration of the way we refer to one another.

Later in Avot we learn that one should not embarrass another person in public (Avot 3:15). Though it may not be immediately apparent, this has a good deal to do with names. Within the Jewish community there are many people who prefer to use their Hebrew name because their “English name”, which appears on their birth certificates and in their passports, causes them embarrassment. To call them by the name their parents chose for them may not only embarrass them but can cause considerable offence.

This same applies not only to Jews but to everyone, regardless of religion, race and nationality. Over the years I have had numerous friends who have sought to bury their awkward or unloved forenames or middle names, and I expect that I am far from alone in witnessing people being teased for having names that caused them grief.  

The use of an embarrassing if genuine name is not always intended to be hurtful. Often the offenders are parents who chose a child’s name with a very good reason and who, having always used that name, find it difficult or upsetting to switch to another.

Ultimately, it seems to me, our objective should be to avoid upsetting or annoying others. We should give them their due respect, however apparently trivial their feelings may seem to us.  This is part and parcel of R’ Chanina ben Dosa’s advice (Avot 3:13) that, if we want our actions to be pleasing to God, we should act in such a way as to make them pleasing to our fellow humans too.

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Good names, bad names

The concept of a shem tov (literally “good name”) features twice in Pirkei Avot. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai praises the value of a good reputation at Avot 4:17 where he teaches:

“There are three crowns—the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood and the crown of sovereignty—but the crown of a good name surpasses them all”.

Hillel agrees that a good reputation is a valuable asset, but points at Avot 2:8 to its limitations:

“One who acquires a good name acquires it for himself; but one who acquires words of Torah acquires life in the World to Come”.

So is a good name, a good reputation, a sort of formal recognition of one’s personal qualities and achievements, or is it merely a non-transferable label that ultimately adds up to nothing of substance?  Avot does not resolve this issue. There are however two further teachings on which we should reflect before drawing any conclusions.

The first is another teaching in the name of Hillel, at Avot 1:13: negid shema, avad shemei. There is some disagreement as to the precise meaning of this neat Aramaic soundbite, but it is generally rendered along the lines of “a name made great is a name destroyed”, suggesting that the cultivation of fame and a good reputation will be in vain if it is not done for the sake of Heaven. The second is a baraita at Avot 6:9, taught in the name of Rabbi Yose ben Kisma:

Once I was walking along the road and a man came across me. He greeted me and I returned his greeting. He said to me: "Rabbi, what place do you come from?” I said to him: "I’m from a great city of sages and scholars”. He said to me: "Rabbi, would you like to live with us in our place? I will give you a million dinars of gold, precious stones and pearls". I said to him: "If you were to give me all the silver, gold, precious stones and pearls in the world, I wouldn’t live anywhere but in a place of Torah”….

The baraita continues by affirming the point made by Hillel above, that it is through the acquisition of Torah that one acquires one’s World to Come. The curious thing about this baraita is that the stranger who encounters Rabbi Yose ben Kisma asks where he comes from but does not ask his name. This would suggest that the Rabbi’s worth has been assessed by reference to (possibly) his appearance, (more likely) his behaviour and demeanour but not by reference to his name and reputation.

There is another sense in which a name is taken to be “good” or “bad”, where it is not so much the reputation as the name itself that is at stake. This theme is developed by Rabbi Yaakov Hillel in volume 1 of his Eternal Ethics from Sinai, where at Avot 1:3 he introduces a teaching by Antigonos Ish Socho with a discussion of the name Antigonos and of the propriety or otherwise of giving a child a non-Jewish name. He writes:

“If Antigonos of Socho, the saintly Tanna who received the Oral Tradition from Shimon HaTzaddik, were alive today, he would no doubt be encouraged to have his name changed, a practice that has gained considerable popularity in our times. Antigonos is no more a Biblical name that Hurkenos, Sumchus or Tarfon. These names, all from non-Jewish sources, were given long ago to children who developed into some of our people’s greatest Torah sages. When parents select a name for a child, the best choice is clearly a Jewish name, because the name of a righteous, pious, and scholarly Jew will have a positive influence on the child. But let us say that, for whatever reasons, a parent chooses to name a daughter Zlata or Altun rather than Rivka or Rahel. That has become this particular child’s name and it should not be tampered with”.

Following further discussion of the correct spelling of names, divine inspiration in choosing them and the mechanism for changing a name, Rabbi Hillel continues:

“…[C]urrent trends in name-changing have it that Rahel is a ‘very bad name’, and absolutely no one should be named Rahel. … Our forefather Yaakov, a very great Mekubal, was surely privy to whatever inside information today’s practitioners would like to claim. If Rahel is a ‘bad name’, why did he not feel impelled to change the name of his beloved wife? The same could be said of Rabbi Akiva and countless other great Torah scholars throughout our history whose wives bore the name of the Matriarch Rahel”.

I had no idea that Rahel/Rachel was a ‘very bad name’ and wonder if any of my more kabbalistically inclined readers might enlighten me. Be that as it may, my personal feeling, for what it is worth, is that if the reputation that attaches to a person’s name is indeed personal—as Hillel suggests at Avot 2:8—we should not assume that the attributes associated with that person’s name are in any sense transferable. Each person should be known by their name but valued in accordance with their individual attributes. It also seems to me that giving a child an auspicious name from Tanach or traditional Jewish sources may also be a laudable practice. But it offers no guarantee that children will absorb or display the qualities of the person after whom they are named, as the roll-call of Jewish prisoners in Israel and the diaspora sadly indicates.