As the Aleph Society changes its name to the Steinsaltz Center USA, we present here a selection of thoughts on names from the works of and interviews with Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz z’tl.

On Likutei Torah, Rosh Hashana

At certain moments, the turning circle pauses, and everything begins anew…and this renewal opens the possibility for transformation.

Maimonides, who seeks to explain teshuvah (repentance) in rational terms, writes that it may sometimes be expressed through a change of name or a change of place. When a person changes their place, they shift, in a sense, their pattern of being; but when a person changes their name, something deeper occurs — the name itself gives rise to a new essence. Through a new name, the individual becomes, in truth, someone new.

Together with these external changes, a person can begin to reshape other dimensions of the self. Each point of transition — every boundary between one state and another — offers an opportunity to turn in a new direction.

Rabbi Steinsaltz Speaking About Names

The definition of a name is essentially the question of the relationship between a thing and its name. That is to say: can a thing exist without a name?

But this name, if it depends on the thing itself, applies to many aspects — some might even say, jokingly, it’s like a children’s riddle: that a thing which belongs to a person, which is fully theirs and used less by anyone else than by them, is its name.

The question, then, is: what is a name?

On one hand, a name is a definition of a thing.

There highly defined names: the name itself determines what the object is. If I call a table a “table,” I am not merely labeling it to distinguish it; I am defining it.

Now, when it comes to people’s names, the question arises: how much does the name belong to them, to their essence, and how much is it external? For example, consider the names of medicines. Usually, a medicine has two names: a scientific name and a commercial or professional name under which it is sold. One of these names is common and widely known; the other is more hidden. Yet one name defines the substance itself, while the other is a label used externally.

This distinction applies not only to objects, but also to people and even higher matters. Where, then, is the essential part? How much exists outwardly, and how much inwardly? How much is a thing dependent on its name?

There is a famous story that illustrates this point. In it, the Baal HaTanya was sitting with his grandson, Tzemach Tzedek, a small child whom he had raised and cared for. One day, sitting beside him, he asked the boy, “Where is Grandpa?” The child placed his hand on the grandfather, and the grandfather said, “That is not Grandpa; that is Grandpa’s hand.”

The child then began to think. At first, it was simple: he touched the grandfather and thought he knew him. Then he stood and placed his hand on the grandfather’s head, feeling that it was more. The grandfather then said, “That is Grandpa’s head; it is not Grandpa himself.”

Now the child faced a more complex reality. Finally, he exclaimed, “Grandpa!” — and the grandfather turned to him: here is Grandpa!

“When a person changes their place, they shift, in a sense, their pattern of being; but when a person changes their name, something deeper occurs — the name itself gives rise to a new essence. Through a new name, the individual becomes, in truth, someone new.”

This story, while seemingly simple, points to a profound truth: where is the essence? On one side, the name is a definition of the thing’s essence. Saying “this is the person” is an act of defining.

Thus, naming, finding names, and creating names is inherently linked to the essence of the thing — not merely to commercial or artificial labels, but to the inner truth of the thing. Real names, like the scientific name of a medicine, define the substance: what it is made of, how it is composed. A true name reveals the essence of the thing.

This is why, when the Holy One, blessed be He, calls the angels, or asks for the names of creatures in the world, they do not know. Instead, He calls upon humanity to assign names to each thing: “And whatever man shall call every living soul, that shall be its name.” The understanding is that God did not give pre-determined names; things are called according to what expresses their essence…

From one perspective, a name can define; yet when the name defines, it stands on its own. There is an essence — the name itself. And there is the essence of the thing itself. For a name, there must be a thing. But does every thing need a name? We generally assume a name is for distinction, or to define something. But if a thing exists alone, does it require a name?

Even so, one surprising point is that, as it is said, before the world was created, there was “He and His Name alone” — the Holy One, blessed be He, and His Name. Before the creation of the world, what is the significance of a name? On the surface, a name is what it is called; yet if there is no one to call it, what purpose does it serve? Here emerges the deeper meaning of a name: it is a kind of definition, a definition arising from the very essence of the thing itself. In this sense, things possess a self-existent name — and this self-existent name manifests outwardly.

There is a name that existed and was chosen — a self-existent name — “He and His Name alone” before the creation of the world. In this sense, if it were external, how would it be defined? Essentially, the matter of the name is a definition: the internal, essential definition of things. It is the inner content of the name, what it carries, and the greatness of a name lies in this essential content.

This brings us to another aspect: does a person possess this? Some say that a person of Israel, endowed with divine inspiration, receives their name according to their spiritual essence. Even if the parents do not fully understand why they give the name, it corresponds to this definition. In a certain sense, the name is not like a form, a body, a title, or an object; it is an inner essence — profoundly personal, profoundly “I.” At the same time, one may not fully require it, yet it defines.

“Before the creation of the world, what is the significance of a name? On the surface, a name is what it is called; yet if there is no one to call it, what purpose does it serve?”

Thus, the matter of names for all things, the act of naming, and what we call them, is connected from the “sanctification of the Name” to the “desecration of the Name.” What is “His Name alone”? It is the acknowledgment of the world and the heavens, the exaltation of the Name itself. At the highest level, the Name of God transcends human comprehension. Then there are the revealed names, the names we may use, which are names of names, so to speak.

Hence, the matter of a name belongs to this high level. It is also connected to the sacred names and holy things: if one knows the true name of a thing, one may, to some extent, master it. The challenge is that we do not always know the true name. We may know the nickname, the commercial name, the familiar label — but not the essential name. Knowing the essential name is a form of understanding, a way of grasping the inner reality, which manifests outwardly.