The Many Names of God
D'var Torah for Parashat Shemot
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
January 5, 2024
In Memory of Ruth Heilman and Elaine D. Finestone
In her famous poem, “Each of Us Has a Name,” the Hebrew poet known simply by her first name, Zelda, lists the many names which we acquire through our lifetime, starting with those given us by God, by our parents, by the work we do and the manner in which we live, and finally the name given to us by our death.
Our name identifies us. It labels and characterizes us. It reminds us of our past and our heritage. It describes our hopes and ambitions, our values and ideals.
It isn’t a coincidence that the second book of the Torah, which in English we know as Exodus, in Hebrew is called Shemot—names. It begins by listing the names of the children of Israel, who by this point in our history are more than individuals, but rather large tribes. “Israel”—the name given by God to our ancestor Jacob—now stands for the entire people that we, Jacob’s descendants, have become. But our evolution isn’t only in size and numbers. Four hundred years after first arriving in Egypt, each tribe has now assumed a role among the people, fulfilling the blessings given by Jacob on his deathbed, at the end of the first book of the Torah, Genesis. Judah has assumed leadership; Levi has become the storyteller, the teacher of Tradition and Religion; and Joseph is the bearer of hope and redemption. Every tribe, each household, has its role and place in society.
Not everyone in this book, however, is named. Pharaoh is never identified other than by his title. There is a Hebrew curse that is used after mentioning particular enemies of the Jewish People: Yimach Sh’mo—may his name be forgotten. In the book of Exodus, this curse comes true. The name of the evil tyrant of Egypt remains unknown. But this doesn’t explain why Pharaoh’s daughter’s name is not revealed either, despite the vital role she plays in the story of the Exodus. Batya, “Daughter of God”—is the name given her by the early rabbis—or possibly earlier, around the 4th century BCE.
Pharaoh’s Daughter does get to give Moses his Hebrew name, however—Moshe, drawn from the water—which is surprising considering that she probably didn’t know any Hebrew. More likely, Moses’s name is derived from ancient Egyptian, where Mose (or Moseh) served as either a complete name in itself, or at least a part of it, as in Rameses or Thutmose.
Names will continue to appear throughout the book of Exodus, and more and more they will begin to represent the values held high by the Jewish People: Tsuriel: God is my rock; Nachshon—devoted and faithful; Aminadav, a charitable people.
Yet one name above all remains inscrutable: God’s. In the wonderful scene in which God commands Moses to return to Egypt and undertake the mission of freeing the Hebrew slaves, Moses asks to know God’s name. God answers: “Ehyeh asher ehyeh,” variously translated as “I am that which I am,” “I will be what I will be,” or even “I am the One who always will be there for you.” Based on this mysterious phrase, some Biblical scholars speculate that Ehyeh is God’s personal name, not Adonai—which is the title by which we address God.
Yet God’s unclear response actually leads to an infinite number of possibilities. The Midrash offers the following teaching: “God said to Moses: ‘You want to know My name? I am called by My deeds. I might be called El Shaddai, or Tzevaot, or Elohim, or Adonai [the Tetragrammaton, YHVH]. When I judge My creatures, I am called Elohim; when I wage war on the wicked, I am called Tzevaot; when I tolerate the sins of human beings, I am called Shaddai; when I show compassion on My world I am called Adonai” (Shemot Rabbah 3).
The speculation does not end there, however. In the Kabbalah, starting around 1100 CE the term Ein Sof (Endless) appears in describing God. A 45-letter name is derived by some Kabbalists, while yet others deduce that God actually has 72 names. There is even one source, Sefer Yetzira, the Book of Formation, that says that all God’s names are comprised of 216 sacred letters, each taking its place in endless variations and permutations.
And still one of the most common names by which we call God even today is Shechinah—God’s Presence, often representing the more compassionate, even feminine and motherly, aspect of God.
There is obviously no end to it—and perhaps that’s the whole point. God’s name is unknowable. Names define and describe us, they give us characteristics, features and qualities. Drawing lines of demarcation, they separate one individual from another. When God created Adam, the first task God set out before the first human was to name the animals. But God is different. God cannot be named. God is endless, infinite. We humans can’t know God’s totality or even one part of it; we can only describe God’s attributes and characteristics: strength, judgment, compassion, presence, and no more than that.
The wonderful response given by God to Moses empowers each one of us to see God in our own unique way, according to our own needs and experience. Ehyeh asher ehyeh. It’s as though God says, call me what you will, I will be there for you. At times of joy or sorrow; in need or abundance; when we need strength and courage, or respite, peace and consolation—God is always there for us and with us. Call God as you wish, the breath of life spells God’s Presence in our lives.
And we, finite, limited, imperfect, human beings? Our insignificant presence is limited by the time we are allotted on this earth. But our names tell the world, both now and after we are gone, who and what we were.
In the end, the poet Zelda’s list of names can be summed up with just two that matter most: the name you are given (or choose), and the name you make for yourself. May the former reach the hopes and expectations that come with it; and may the latter express deeds and accomplishments that we can all be proud for and be remembered by.
© 2024 by Boaz D. Heilman
