Each of our names is legitimate, and should be pursued

“Pinchas, the son of Elazar, the son of Aharon HaKohein, returned my anger from on Bnei Yisrael…” (Bamidbar 25:11)

Pinchas is introduced here with his illustrious lineage, because only a man of regal heritage could have acted as he did. In the middle of a full-fledged rebellion against Moshe and Torah, as the Jews were rejecting Divinely legislated morality, Pinchas stepped up and executed the leader of Shevet Shimon.  

Despite his aristocratic heritage, though, Pinchas gained a new name in recognition of his vigilante justice — Kana’i, the Zealot. Furthermore, Bnei Yisrael mocked him, calling him Ben Puti, referring to his grandfather, Yisro, who once fattened (pitem) calves for idolatry.

Yet Pinchas persevered despite national opprobrium. Upon entering Eretz Yisrael, he embarked on a new role as a prophet, becoming known as Malach Hashem. (Rabbi Mordechai Torczyner, YU Torah)

More or less? When playing the name game, parents are often faced with this question. My parents decided the more, the merrier, and gave each of us three names. Since I don’t get called up to the Torah (unlike my brothers) with all three names, I’ve enjoyed this triple identity. It’s given me multiple personas to play with.

My parents, despite having bestowed this triple moniker upon my newborn head, were sure that my tastes would follow theirs and therefore chose to put only my first name, Sora, on my birth certificate. Perhaps they had mercy on the poor government worker who’d have to type and fit that long name onto the certificate. (Yes, I was born when government offices were still using typewriters; you can stop counting the years.)

The Midrash teaches: “A person is known by three names: One is the name that his parents  call him, one is the name that others call him, and one is the name by which he’ll be known in the chronicles of his existence.” Our talents, skills, and proclivities stem from these three sources. 

Our parents, the roots of our nature and providers of our nurture, establish our initial name. Our peers exert social pressure, as role models, sounding boards and reality checks. Our actions provide a third dimension — we’re blessed with an innate desire to rebel and forge our own way, and this catalyzes a certain independence.

In fourth grade, I realized I didn’t want the name my parents picked, maybe because they picked it, and decided to go by the last of my three names, Faigy.

But my legal name remained Sora. It doesn’t affect me much, except that when people address me that way, I don’t respond. Picture the dentist in the middle of a root canal telling me, “Sora, you’re doing great!” Maybe Sora was doing great, but Faigy wasn’t.

Still, I’m not planning to change my name legally, so that just leaves puzzled clerks in many Israeli bureaucratic offices trying to figure out what a nice Israeli name like Sora has to do with a Yiddish name, Faigy. This type of confusion explains why it takes so long to get anything done in these offices.

These multiple names can be confusing, leaving us wondering about our “real” selves. Am I my parents’ child? Am I the person others perceive? Am I the identity I shape?

Faced with these questions, we can learn from Pinchas’s experience. Each of our names is legitimate, and should be pursued. The names bestowed by our parents are justifiably powerful and durable. The names given by our peers reflect the assessment of those who see us most clearly. The names we craft for ourselves reflect our deepest ideals and desires. We’re a composite of all three, as Pinchas was; may we succeed in harnessing all our names to the service of Hashem.

I like using the name Faigy. Probably because there aren’t as many of us, certainly not with my last name, so my name defines me, as opposed to unlucky people like Sora Cohen. If I had a last name like Cohen, I’d probably call myself Tzlelponis.

But I still have a third name at my disposal, which comes in handy when I don’t want people to know who I am. Think pseudonym — of which I have many. All of them use my middle name, Chaya. So, start going through the last ten years of Mishpacha magazines and find any author named Chaya. Do you think it’s me?

While you’re busy with that, I’ve gotta go run to fill my last and perhaps most important identity. I hear my name being called: “Mommy!”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 802)