Cantor's Corner by Eric Miller

So begins the “surname options” section in the informational packet, “Getting Married in New York State” that notifies soon-to-be brides and grooms of the procedures for filling out and obtaining a valid marriage license. The document goes on to say, “The new name must consist of one of the following options: the surname of the other spouse, any former surname of either spouse, a name combining into a single surname all or a segment of the premarriage surname or any former surname of each spouse (emphasis mine), a combination name separated by a hyphen, provided that each part of such combination surname is the premarriage surname, or any former surname of each of the spouses.”

From the emphasis above, some of you may know that Sarah and I plan to do option #3 – we’re combining our last names (Schulman and Miller) into a brand-new last name – “Schulmiller.” Yes, it’s a bit bulky, but still less so than, say, Schwarzenegger, or Boutros Ghali. So, after October 13, everyone at the synagogue can call me…well, Cantor Eric. But to Mastercard, the maitre d’ at Le Cirque (or Outback Steakhouse), and anyone else who feels like addressing me by my last name, it’ll be Mr. (or Cantor) Schulmiller from then on out.

So, what does Jewish tradition have to say about name changes? Well, they have a long and illustrious history, going all the way back to the Book of Genesis. The first recorded name change is also by a man – Abram’s name is changed to Abraham when he forms a covenant with God. His wife Sarai later becomes Sarah as well. And Joseph’s name is actually changed to an Egyptian one, Zaphenath-paneah (Schulmiller doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?) as he successfully integrated into their society under the service of Pharaoh.

There’s also the following ancient tradition, as described by Rabbi Simkha Y. Weintraub, the Rabbinic Director of the National Center for Jewish Healing in New York City: “Ever since Talmudic times, roughly 2,000 years ago, Jews have had the practice of changing, or adding to, one’s name when facing the challenges of serious illness. The reasons for this practice of taking a new name are multi-layered and complex. Some have seen this as a form of atonement, as an indicator that one is 'wiping one’s slate clean.' In a more supernatural mode, some, especially in centuries past, saw it as a way of fooling the Angel of Death. More recently, I have heard people describe how this ritual marks their personal transformation, actual or anticipated; how it acknowledges to God and community the way their illness has contributed to a profound shift in their spiritual journey.” [Note: this excerpt comes from the wonderful website www.beliefnet.com. I highly recommend it for interesting, balanced and up-to-date reading on topics as diverse as Mel Gibson’s Passion and Al Franken’s religious lampoons.]

Finally, at this time of year, so close to Yom Kippur, it’s interesting to note that the Talmud says that we can change our decree in the Book of Life through not only the famous trio of teshuva (repentance), tefillah (prayer), and tzedakah, but also by changing our name! (See tractate Rosh Hashanah, page 16b). Likewise, the seminal text of Jewish mystical tradition states, “A change of name acts as an atonement for sin.” (Zohar, Genesis 133b). Of course, the Hebrew word for name (shem) also means, “reputation.” This may be the key to these texts, since what they’re really advocating is that the repentant effect a deep and true change – one that affects their very core, as represented by their name, which symbolizes their true identity. Therefore the midrash states, “The earned name is worth much more than the given name.” (Ecclesiastes Rabbah, 7:4), and “Every person has three names: One her father and mother gave, one others call, and one she acquires herself” (Ibid, 7:1:3).

If it is true that, as we read in the Talmud, “One’s name has an influence on one’s life,” (Berakhot 7b), then may we all make even better names for ourselves in the year ahead.