Rabbi Victor H. Reinstein

In the week that we began to read from the second book of
Torah, the Book of Exodus in English,
Sefer
Sh’mot/the Book of Names in Hebrew, I found myself at the Israel Book Shop
for the afternoon prayers called
Mincha.
Davening/praying among the basement
stacks of holy books, as I completed my own prayer, I paused to look around and
take in the aura cast by the titles that surrounded me.
There was a box of
books at my feet, its volumes arranged horizontally, their front covers facing
up. I saw that it was a set of the Mishne
Torah, the legal code of Moses’ Maimonides, the Rambam, Rabbi Moshe Ben
Maimon, Moses son of Maimon (1135-1204). I bent down where I stood and quietly
picked up the top volume and randomly opened it.

I am not sure if the great sigh I let out was one more of
amazement or of comfort, whether it was heard by those still praying as
distraction or as
amen to their prayers.
I had opened the volume called
Sefer
Hamadah/the Book of Knowledge. I had opened to chapter six in the section
called
Hilchos Yisodei Hatorah/the Laws
of the Foundations of Torah. I began to read at the beginning of chapter
six, laws one and two, Rambam’s warning of culpability for anyone who destroys
the name of God:
kol ha’m’abed shem min
ha’shemot/anyone who destroys a name from the holy and pure names through which
the Blessed Holy One is called…. Rambam then goes on to enumerate seven
such names from among the seventy names by which God is called in Hebrew, seven
that are most holy and pure: the most holy name formed of the letters
yud hey vav hey, known as the
shem ha’m’forash/the ineffable name, the
name that is not to be pronounced, known also as the
shem ha’vaya/the Name of Being; and so too the names
el, and eloha, and elokim, and ehiyeh, and
shaddai, and tz’va’ot.

I found myself trembling there among the books and among the
prayers wafting around me. Entering the Book of Names in the cycle of reading
Torah, thoughts swirled within me, feeling so deeply for those suffering at our
southern border, their names unknown to us except for the dead children;
feeling so deeply for the homeless who live and die on our streets, their names
unknown to us as too often we quickly pass them by; feeling so deeply for
children of war and poverty wherever they are, their names unknown to us, yet
neighbors all, each of these with a name lovingly given by their parents. To
open to that page in that moment in that week, God’s amen to my prayers, as
though offering answer and insight to an unasked question, a gentle touch upon
my brow. I realized in that moment, that Rambam’s warning,
each one who destroys a name/kol ha’m’abed shem…, is as much about
the destroying of human names and the taking of identities as it is about
destroying God’s name.

In the first portion of the second book, the first portion
in the Book of Names, after Moses has encountered God at the burning bush and
is given his life’s mission, told to go back to Egypt and bring God’s word to
Pharaoh,
let my people go, Moses asks
God a simple question. Worried that the people will not believe him, that he
has not been given such a task, Moses asks God what he should say when the
people ask of God,
mah sh’mo/what is his
name? At that time, God conveyed a three-word name,
ehiyeh asher ehiyeh/I will be that which I will be. Then, as though
to make it simpler, God tells Moses to tell the people that he was sent by
ehiyeh/I will be. In these profound
names is the ever-present possibility of becoming, and so for us who are
created in God’s image.

In the very first line of the weekly Torah portion called
Va’era (Ex. 6:2-9:35), second in the Book of Names, God shares with Moses
another name, God’s most holy name, the name formed of the Hebrew letters
yud hey vav hey. They are simply the
letters of the verb to be, and yet they are not the word “to be,” simply the
letters, not a formal word at all, therefore a word without gender, without
time, simply the
shem havaya/the Name of
Being.
I trembled when I read the words of the Rambam, not for fear
of destroying God’s name, something in regard to which I am quite careful. I
keep a box in my study in which to place worn out holy books and loose pages
that contain God’s holy names, all later to be lovingly buried in the way of
those who once held the books and encountered God upon the page. It is easy to
take care that we not harm God’s name, and, indeed, if we do, God is forgiving.
It is precisely the type of sin between a person and God for which on Yom
Kippur we find forgiveness. It was not about God for whom I trembled. I
trembled with the thought of what we are to learn about human beings, about
people, each one created in the image of God. We are not only created in the
image of God, but in the image of God’s most holy name.

When arranged
vertically, the letters
yud hey vav hey represent
the human form. The little
yud at the
top is the head. The first
hey, a
horizontal line with a vertical line coming down from each of its ends, forms
the shoulders and arms. The straight
vav
forms the spine. The second
hey forms
the pelvis and legs. To destroy God’s name is to destroy the human form. To
destroy a human being is to destroy God’s most holy name as it is carried in the
world.
I thought of the very first book by Rabbi Abraham Joshua
Heschel, a book of poetry written in Yiddish when he was a young man. The
book’s title tells of the fiercely tender love for God and people that would
fill all of Rabbi Heschel’s books and all of his ways in the world in the years
to come. That slim volume is called, Der
Shem Ha’m’forash – Mentsh/The Ineffable Name – Human.

Every human being has a name, a bond with God and with
people. Every human being carries in their human form God’s name of being and
becoming. Every human being is holy. There in the bookshop, amidst holy books
and holy prayers, I trembled as I read Rambam’s warning not to destroy God’s
name. So may we tremble for all of the bearers of God’s name who are
denigrated, denied, and, God forbid, destroyed.
Each person’s own name gives
unique expression to the way of their being called in God’s name. With love and
with
compassion, may we ask of all whom we encounter, just as Moses asked of
God, how are you called, what is your name?
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