“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet,” so coo our star-crossed lovers in Romeo and Juliet.  Really, think about it…what’s in a name? Turns out, quite a lot. 

 

When people find out you are pregnant, a first question inevitably is, “Have you thought of a name?” In Judaism, it gets more complicated….in Ashkenazi tradition, you can only name your children after deceased relatives. No “Juniors” or “Trips” in our culture. An agonizing process then ensues with your spouse: Which relative will you honor by naming your child after them? Sometimes people take a first initial (For example, my grandfather was Harold, my husband’s grandfather was Herman….we named our first child Hannah) and sometimes people will take the defined meaning of the loved one’s name and name their child accordingly.

 

These are times when it’s usual to contemplate a name change, and it’s expected that you’ll obsess over what to name your children. Yet, one of the strangest things about converting to Judaism is taking a Jewish name. All of a sudden, here is your chance to make a statement. When I was studying with Rabbi Harold White, the rabbi at Georgetown University, he encouraged me to keep it simple. My given name is Dana Elizabeth. “Elizabeth is Elisheva in Hebrew. Keep Elisheva. It’s a beautiful name,” he said. I agreed. Yet, it wasn’t, I don’t know….dramatic enough.  So, in talking with Rabbi White, I discovered that Ruth was the first convert in the Torah. Perfect. I became Elisheva Ruth.

 

So, fast forward to current times. I am now in the midst of studying Hebrew at Portland State University. Sometimes, in a fit of boredom, I’ve taken to writing friend’s names in Hebrew. “Does this look right?” I ask my friend Josh. “Oh no,” he says. ‘My Hebrew name is Jakob.” So, I ask him, “If you go to Israel, will you introduce yourself as Jacob?”

Of course he won’t, but what he is saying is that here in America, if you are going to be identifying him Jewishly, he wants to be known by his Hebrew name—the one given to him by his parents.

 

Of course, he’s lived with this name through Hebrew school and his ensuing Bar Mitzvah. He’s most likely written it on numerous Hebrew documents, so he doesn’t really even think about it. He’s used to thinking of himself as Josh, the American, and Jakob, the Jew.

 

That’s where it’s hard for converts. My name is Dana. And I still stumble over my Hebrew name. I don’t always know how to pronounce Ruth (with the “Th” or just a “t” sound?). But, recently I signed a friend’s kettubah (a marriage contract). I had to get the correct Hebrew spelling of Elisheva Ruth from my rabbi. It was my first time signing my name, despite my years-ago conversion. I take it one step at a time.

So, what’s in my name? A bit of me and a bit of the Torah’s rich history. You know what? It fits me perfectly.

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