Bad names

Today in class I was telling the story (already described on this blog months ago) of how I was once asked by the manager of my kibbutz ulpan to speak at a Jewish Agency fundraising committee meeting….and then as I sat there waiting for my turn to speak, I found out that it was not in fact the Jewish Agency and instead a MASA program fundraising committee meeting. So I had to talk about how great my MASA program was and how grateful I was for the funding, etc etc…..except these were all wild lies because I was not, in fact, on a MASA program.

It was actually really cool, cos I was telling the story in Hebrew. I feel like so often the Hebrew I use is simple, functional Hebrew, like trying to buy things or convey practical information. But here I was telling a story in Hebrew—granted, not a complicated story, but still. I can actually tell stories in Hebrew! It was awesome, everyone in class was cracking up.


So I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s back: someone is trying to name me. See, unlike most American Jews—including even my Catholic brother—I have no Hebrew name. Which doesn’t particularly bother me. Well, I take that back, it kind of bothers me that I wasn’t given a Hebrew name as a baby, but I’m not so upset about it that I want to name myself now, because that seems so silly. I feel like my name in English. I identify with it, whether it’s my full name or my nicknames or my middle name or whatever. That’s me. I’m “Samantha” when my father’s angry, and I’m “Sam” to recent friends (usually Sam + Last Name together), “Sammy” to childhood friends and family. I’m Samster to my father and to friends’ parents that I know from elementary school, or Samboo, or Sammy-Wammy to my grandma—from which my brother derived another nickname for me—“Whammer Time.” And I think about my names, and I think about my brother’s names….and it just seems to all fit. My family consists of those names, of those people.

Anyway, my point is that given all that, it seems ridiculous that I should now just “decide” that I’m Rivka or whatever. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate the concern and effort on the part of the friend who is trying to have me get a Hebrew name and have some sort of naming thing at a synagogue.

And apart from concerns for my connection to my English name, I just flat out think the idea of naming yourself is arrogant. Unless your parents named you “Fucker McFuckerson,” you should stick with it. Also, itt’s totally fine if your mother wants to name you after some biblical hero or heroine, or wants to call you something like, “Light of G-d” or “Flower of Heaven” or “More Pious Than You Could Ever Hope To Be” whatever in Hebrew…..but it’s arrogant for you to decide at age 20 or whatever that you’re “Beauty of the Ocean” or “Mother of G-d” or the next Moses. It’s your mom’s job to think you’re that fucking incredible—not yours.


All this has made me think about Israelis and their names. Being a foreign person, I frequently come across people with names that I had until then never heard—or I had at least never met someone with that name. So I begin to think of these people as “originals,” and that what these people do decides everything for anyone else with that name. Based on the people I’ve met, I expect all Yaels to work in laundry rooms. Men named Ofer should (according to me) all work in office jobs in the army. Yanivs all work in the air force, and Be’eris are all 4 year old boys.

Speaking of names…I’m still looking for Avi. Haven’t heard much about him since I was last in Israel. Maybe his friends are still looking for him and I just haven’t heard?