It sounds strange, but Jewish tradition explores the idea that certain special figures in our history were known by multiple names, each reflecting a different facet of their character or destiny. It's a concept that pops up in Shemot Rabbah, a classic collection of Midrashic interpretations on the Book of Exodus.
Shemot Rabbah 40 tells us, "See, I have called by name," and then goes on to list seven people who were known by several names. It's a fascinating idea – that one individual could embody so many different aspects that they warranted multiple appellations.
The text gives a breakdown. Some, like Mordechai, had two names. Others, like Elijah, had four! Betzalel, the artisan behind the Tabernacle, even had six. Moses tops the list with seven. What does this signify? Was it just ancient nickname culture gone wild, or something deeper?
Let's dive into Elijah. Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat tells us Elijah was from Jerusalem, with property spanning both Benjamin and Judah. But the Midrash sees more than just a geographical identity at play. We find in I Chronicles 8:27, he's called "Yaareshya, Elijah, and Zikhri, the sons of Yeroḥam." The Midrash interprets Yaareshya, Elijah, Zikhri, and Yeroḥam as referring to the same person! Why so many names? Rabbi Ḥanina bar Pappa explains that when God seeks to "shake" (leharish) the world, Elijah steps in to remind God of the merit of our ancestors, prompting divine mercy (meraḥem). So, each name hints at his role as intercessor and advocate for Israel.
Then there's Betzalel. We trace his lineage back to Judah through a somewhat complex genealogical puzzle in I Chronicles. His story is rich with layers. He's called Betzalel by his nation, but the Holy One, blessed be He, calls him by five names of endearment after the Tabernacle. These names – Re’aya, Shoval, Yaḥat, Aḥumai, and Laḥad – each symbolize a specific aspect of his contribution. Re’aya, because God showed (herahu) him to Moses and Israel. Shoval, because he built a dovecote (shovakh) for God, referring to the Tabernacle. Yaḥat, because he instilled fear of God (ḥitito) in Israel. Aḥumai, because he united (iḥa) Israel with God. And Laḥad, because he brought glory to Israel.
Rabbi Yehuda bar Rabbi Simon even uses the image of a dovecote to describe the Tabernacle, suggesting it was a place of refuge and protection for the Israelites, just as a dovecote shelters doves. It all paints a picture of Betzalel not just as a craftsman, but as a unifying, inspiring figure.
And here’s a fascinating twist. Rabbi Ḥanina ben Pazi points out that Betzalel was from the tribe of Judah, considered a prominent tribe, while his partner Oholiab was from the tribe of Dan, often regarded as less distinguished. This pairing, according to Rabbi Ḥanina, highlights that "the great and the lowly are equal." It’s a powerful message about not forsaking one’s strength, regardless of background. Just as both tribes contributed to the Tabernacle, we all have unique gifts to offer.
The Midrash draws a parallel to the construction of the Temple by Solomon from Judah and Hiram from Naphtali, reinforcing the idea that strength and talent can be found in unexpected places. It concludes by quoting Job 22:25, "The Almighty shall be your strength [betzarekha]," urging us to make God our strength in times of distress (betzara).
So, what does all this tell us? Perhaps it's a reminder that we are all multifaceted beings, capable of embodying different roles and identities depending on the situation. Maybe it’s an encouragement to recognize the divine spark within ourselves and others, regardless of background or perceived status. And perhaps, just perhaps, it's an invitation to consider what our many names might be, if only we took the time to listen.