The Torah can be very subtle, crafty even. It employs many different techniques to get a message across, to convey an experience, or to express an emotion. One of my favorites (and about which I've spoken here several times before) is
the use of naming. On the surface, it seems as if we're only talking about personal names; who names whom in the Bible. But when we dig a little deeper, we realize that the naming of people can sometimes really be about the naming of situations and feelings; an outlet for uttering an otherwise unspeakable state of mind. And I believe that this is precisely what is going on in this week's Torah reading, in the story of Leah.
There are many examples of naming in the Torah: God renames both Abraham (from Abram) and Sarah (Sarai), and later renames Jacob as well, though his new name - Israel - doesn't entirely 'stick.' Whereas Abraham and Sarah are never again referred to by their old names, the Torah goes back and forth between saying Jacob and Israel, seemingly defying God's decision to change his name. But I digress. This week,
we read about mothers naming their children, and specifically the battle between Jacob's (Israel's?) two wives, Leah and Rachel. We aren't explicitly told much about the relationship between the two women, but subtly the Torah hints at the tragedy of their lives through the naming of their sons. Rachel remains barren initially, while the same can certainly NOT be said about Leah. She has her first son (of six), and calls him Reuven, meaning either 'Adonai has seen my affliction,' or 'Now my husband will love me.' What a terribly sad sentiment! We experience such pain for Leah, and for how unloved she feels in this moment. Rabbi Shai Held, who writes about Leah as well, states: "The text's silences speak volumes: Leah expresses a heartfelt hope for love, but Jacob is simply nowhere to be found."
Rabbi Held picks up on the silence in between the naming. No emotion is expressed, no response given to how others understood Leah's odd choice to name her firstborn son. She is so invisible, so forgotten by her husband, Jacob, and even her own sister. We ache for her. Her next two sons are given names meaning "...Adonai heard that I was unloved and gave me this one also" (Simeon) and "This time my husband will become attached to me..." (Levi).
Yet, nothing changes for Leah. Jacob still barely notices her, except when they share a tent. And then something shifts. She gives birth to yet another son, but this one she names, "Now I will praise Adonai" (Judah). No longer is she lamenting her sad situation (though it hasn't really improved). She instead chooses to change her mindset; in a sense, to name her experience and then take ownership of it: To heck with my jerk-husband, and his pathetic favoritism! Besides which, she's got four rambunctious sons to care for, she no longer has time to feel lonely...
But Leah's story is a crucial reminder to us all. We tell ourselves narratives, stories, that seem true to us. We get depressed and stuck in a rut. We imagine that our challenges and obstacles are insurmountable obstacles, and we feel lost. But we must NAME our situation, give it
words and labels and describe it clearly to ourselves. Then it isn't so scary anymore. It ceases to be a face-less, name-less shadow that haunts the periphery of our minds. We may not often find ourselves naming other human beings, but we can still name our own situation, as well as the challenges we face, and the ways we hold ourselves back from success and happiness. When we peek under the surface of the stories in our Torah, we indeed find inspirational tales and advice for how to live our lives. It seems as though the Torah is being so subtle, but there's much that we can learn... we just have to name it!
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