It’s traditional for Jews to
have Jewish names that we use at sacred occasions—such as when being called to
the Torah or when signing a ketubah (marriage certificate)—while for virtually
all other aspects of life we are called by our civil names. When we receive our
Hebrew name, which is essentially a spiritual name, it is usually conferred as
part of a ritual—circumcision for boys, and in modern times through a variety
of naming rituals for girls. By contrast, our secular names are typically
generated through the mundane filing of bureaucratic paperwork.
Today I engaged in a legal
process with relatively little precedent, at least among my peers. With the
help of the courts I inserted my spiritual name into my civil name. The
Superior Court of California, County of Santa Clara decreed that henceforth
Charles Douglas Ballon shall legally be known as Yeshaya Douglas Ballon. This
raises a number of questions that I will try to answer not only for others but
for myself as well.
Why did I do it?
To answer this requires a
little background starting with the oddity that, contrary to Jewish tradition,
my mother named me after her living father, Charlie. To avoid confusion—or
perhaps to create confusion—she then proceeded to call me only by my middle
name, Doug. I don’t think I even knew Charles was my first name until I was
well into grade school. Not surprisingly, I have always bristled whenever I
have been called Charles.
When I was eight days old I
was given the Hebrew name Yeshaya Dan ben harav Shimon. Yeshaya, meaning
Isaiah; Dan, as in the tribe of Dan; ben harav, son of the rabbi; Shimon, my
father’s Hebrew name, the equivalent of Simon.
Friends and family know that
I started asking to be called Yeshaya, at least in spiritual circles, only
about four years ago. They probably don’t know—as I had all but forgotten
myself until I opened some old journals recently—that as far back as the 1980’s
I was contemplating using my Hebrew name, and doodled imagined business cards
with Yeshaya ben harav Shimon and other variations of my name.
Thoughts about changing my
name persisted. Ten years ago, shortly before my mother’s death, I was so taken
by the spirituality that was emerging from her in her final days that I then
added her name to my already lengthy Hebrew name, becoming Yeshaya Dan ben
harav Shimon v’Yonit. For me that
was more than a tribute to my dying mother. It also gave me a sense of
wholeness, an integration of the attributes of both of my parents—two extremely
different personalities that I had long struggled to harness within myself.
Taking the plunge to being
called Yeshaya in circumstances other than during Jewish rituals is part of a
long tale of my spiritual odyssey that I won’t recite now. On the other hand,
my recent use of Yeshaya arose in a discrete, spontaneous act. In May 2007 I
was checking in for a workshop at the Isabella Freedman Jewish Retreat Center
in Connecticut. When they handed me a nametag to fill out I thought, “What the
heck? We’re all Jews here!” and I wrote the large block letters Y-E-S-H-A-Y-A.
For several days I was called Yeshaya. I loved the sound of it, and never
turned back.
Having adopted the use of
the name Yeshaya in one part of my life did not necessitate a legal change—so
why do that, and why now? At the most mundane level we can thank the TSA—the
Transportation Security Administration. In their often-nonsensical folly to
tighten the noose around terrorism they recently enacted a rule that a person’s
name on an airline ticket must exactly match one’s government issued ID. Since
my driver’s license and passport read Charles Douglas Ballon I could no longer
book tickets merely as Doug Ballon. Remember how I said I bristle at being
called Charles? That also applies to airline ticketing kiosks asking me if I am
Charles Ballon. Increasingly banks and computer forms and various agencies have
been forcing the issue of my name. With Yeshaya now in play, using it
officially seemed like the path of least resistance. I am not discounting the
possible intangible elements to the change, but clearly the TSA pushed me over
the edge.
What is the significance
of it?
This is a much harder
question to answer. It would be presumptuous to offer that the use of my Hebrew
name in some way reflects any higher spiritual evolution on my part. However,
adopting its use in the last four years, at the very least, parallels my
increased desire to move along this path. During this period I have engaged in
far more Jewish study than previously, and I have extended myself through
greater service to the Jewish community. The effect specifically of inserting
Yeshaya into my civil name remains to be seen. I won’t be changing my IDs until
September after I return from some travel previously booked as Charles Douglas.
When I start to see the new name on my driver’s license, credit cards, and tax
forms, etc. who knows how it will effect me.
Legally marrying my primary
Hebrew name, Yeshaya, with my preferred English name, Douglas, has power of its
own. As when I added my mother’s name to my father’s, it is another form of
integration. In this case infusing my entire life with Jewish consciousness. In
a way it’s like taking a vow. It’s putting my Yeshaya consciousness up front
causing me to take greater note of who I am.
Every name change in the
Torah occurred at a moment of transformation in the life of one of our
ancestors. Having the TSA push me into this is a far cry from God renaming
Avram to Abraham or the angel blessing Jacob and naming him Israel.
Nonetheless, the precedent has been established that our names are a reflection
of the responsibility that we carry going forward in the world. It will be my
self-imposed challenge to live up to my new name.
Some things won’t be changing.
My Facebook page has already read Yeshaya Douglas Ballon for months. For the
foreseeable future I expect to continue to be called by my middle name at work
as I have always been. I hope not to chastise friends and family (too much) who
do the same, although they should know I increasingly find the sound “Doug” to
be a bit jarring, while “Yesh” (pronounced yay-sh) is music to my ears.
Is there a reason to
create a ritual around changing one’s civil name?
Several persons suggested
having a ritual around this. My first response was that I had already had a
naming ritual on the eighth day, and that this “naming” is a civil action not
requiring more than a judge’s decree. But I listened to my rabbi and other
spiritual advisors. Inserting the spiritual into the secular is a significant
act worth sanctifying in some way. This morning I attended the mikvah. Tonight
a few of us read some poems, recited the sh'hechiyanu, scarfed some cookies and ice cream, and told
stories about our names. On Shabbat I will be called to the Torah, and be asked
to share a few thoughts about my name with my fellow congregants. Writing this
blog is another way of marking and sharing this day as special.
Yesh Indeed!
“Yesh Indeed” is the name of
my blog. Most men named Yeshaya, when choosing a nickname, go by “Shai” or “Shaya.”
I would be remiss if I failed to mention the sweet way my now daughter-in-law
(then my son’s girlfriend) offered a nickname for Yeshaya that seems to be
uniquely mine. When I met Alana she politely stated, “I understand you want
to be called Yeshaya. That’s a lot to say. Would you mind if I call you “Yesh”?
Yesh means “there is” in Hebrew. In Kabbalah it’s paired with the word “ayin”
which means “there is not” much as Yin is paired with Yang in Eastern thought. These
words are sometimes more freely translated as “something” and “nothing.” Yesh
is also an exclamation of delight in Modern Hebrew parlance. How could I
refuse? Having Yeshaya morph informally into Yesh provides yet another facet to
my evolving identity. Now I’m really “something!”
If I were to summarize this
entire story while standing on one leg it would be this: Yeshaya Douglas
Ballon—Yesh—is who I am, who I have always been, and who I hope to become.
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