What’s In a Hebrew Name?

Last week, I signed up for a Beginning Modern Hebrew course offered locally by HaDavar Messianic Ministries. The first meeting was devoted to becoming familiar with the Hebrew letters, different scripts, and some basic conversational phrases. We students had to introduce ourselves to each other in Hebrew, and the instructor Racheli Morris made a point of asking who had a “Hebrew name” (e.g., Mary, Judith), using that as a learning tool for pronunciation it seems. Later, she talked to us about her Jewish background and her experience as a teacher in Israel and the United States. She mentioned how inspired she had been throughout her life by the life of Jacob’s wife Rachel in the Bible. It was as if she saw herself having a special connection with her namesake much in the way Roman Catholics have with their nameday saints.

Sitting there in class, something occurred to me. Technically, I have a “Hebrew name.” My middle name is “Annette,” a variant of “Hannah” (i.e., “grace”). I admire many women in the Bible and Apocrypha (e.g., Tamar the first, Rahab, Abigail, Susannah), but it hadn’t occurred to me that, since a child, I’ve especially admired Samuel’s mother Hannah (I Samuel 1). Childless in a culture that valued women primarily by their childbearing capabilities, she was living in a polygynous marriage with a rival who knew how to hit where it hurt most. She knew that the solution to her problem was not “being content in the Lord,” but having a child. She ignored her husband Elkanah, who had tried to tell her to get her priorities straight. She put up a stunning defense against Eli, a priest at Shiloh, who had attacked her character. She knew what she wanted and that it wasn’t wrong it want it. And when she petitioned the Lord for it, He granted it to her.

I don’t believe there’s some sort of spiritual connection between Hannah in the Bible and me, not any more than I believe that there’s one between Saint Anne, the reputed mother of the Virgin Mary, and me. However, now I do think of my name and remember Hannah’s story and its important lesson: God can give you your heart’s desire, even when those in authority wish to think you selfish, unreasonable, and even morally wrong.

A Universal Embrace

“This is what I like about Americans,” is what I think my student said between sniffles. I had just offered her a hug after she broke down crying. She accepted and then proceeded to tell me what I’d heard a number of times before: that Vietnamese culture doesn’t allow for that sort of comforting. She appreciated my willingness to do what she said people close to her refuse to do.

For a “huggy” person like myself, it’s often hard to imagine what life is like in a society where physical contact is kept down to a minimum, even between parents and children, even when someone is experiencing emotional trauma. We’re so concerned about those living in developing nations with inadequate food supplies, poor water quality, and substandard health care. Yet there are people, not just orphans, that seem to be suffering from a prolonged oxytocin deficiency that is easily curable, relatively speaking.

I’m not saying that Asian cultures that respect the individual’s personal space have no value. (If I did, I wouldn’t have spent so many undergraduate years studying the historic Chinese American community.) However, I do question whether or not they provide a healthy environment, especially when so many women – even older ones – I’ve met have voiced dissatisfaction with it.

This is final exam week, so my student will be off to Vietnam soon to be with her family over break. Will she tell them how she feels? I don’t know. If she did, would they hug her and let her cry on their shoulder, as she seemed eager to do with me? I don’t think so. And when I remember the look of loneliness in the girl’s eyes, I worry…a lot. She’s literally starving, and like with anorexia, too many people believe it’s a good thing.

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I decided to commemorate 4:59 AM on Friday, December 2, 2011 by sleeping in. It’s been a tough week dealing with cheating students. I’m not looking forward to seeing any of them on Monday.