This year, 5777, a year with three sevens, on Taschlich (the time during the High Holy Days when Jews traditional "Cast off their sins) is different for me and I will be different because of it. As we who perform the ancient tradition, inspired by a passage from Micah, cast off our sins to the depths, I took a dramatic action. A life milestone. I started using my middle name.
My full name is Robert Jonah Ritter. Folks who know me the longest call me Bobby. But, I've always liked my Hebrew middle name, Jonah, better. And for many years I have wanted to switch. Since "I ain't getting any younger," it is time. So this coming High Holy Days, during Tashlich, when we cast off, I will symbolically cast off the use of "Robert." Then on Erev Yom Kippur I and the start of the Jewish New Year 5777, I will elevate my Hebrew name to daily use. So the next time I give my name, or I'm asked, "Do you like to be called Bob or Robert?" My answer will be, please call me Jonah.
Going public with a name change at age 57, is a very odd thing to do. Easily open to misinterpretation. I can imagine people's thoughts: "What's he trying to hide? He is having an identity crisis." "He's nuts." All understandable assumptions, but the truth is not that simple. So I decided I would offer an explanation with my announcement.
Jonah has special meaning for me. Jonah was a prophet during Jeroboam II, the King of Israel in the 8th century BCE. Jonah had other prophecies, but one most everyone is aware of is the story of "Jonah and the Big Fish." I have thought about it more than most.
My middle name Jonah in Hebrew, Yonah (יונה), means “dove.” It is the name of a biblical prophet whose biblical story is read every year on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The book of Jonah tells about the prophet’s refusal to fulfill G‑d’s mission to call on the people of Ninveh to repent. After a long and frightening ordeal, Jonah regretted having defied G‑d’s wish, and went to tell the city to repent. There are twists all the way through the story, each with lessons for us.
One of my interpretations of the Story of Jonah can be found in a midrash I wrote about it. It also ties to my reasons for choosing Tashlich for my actions. Here is a link to that.
For as long as I can remember, on every Yom Kippur, I would stay at temple all day, and in between the morning and afternoon services, I would spend part of that time thinking about the message of the biblical story of Jonah and praying for the wisdom to know the right choices, as well as the courage and conviction to make the best decisions. Jonah inspires me to say "Heneni" (hear I am), a scriptural reference to accepting a call to serve G-d. Maybe one day I can play a song for you that I wrote which is named, "I Need Conviction."
There are many interpretations of the story of Jonah, and much meaning to be found in it. One example comes from The Zohar. (Zohar in Hebrew: זֹהַר, lit. "Splendor" or "Radiance.") The Zohar is the foundational work in the literature of Jewish mystical thought known as Kabbalah. On the meaning of Jonah, Rabbi Sharia Taub wrote:
"I know what you’re thinking. This has got to be a metaphor, because I have never boarded a seafaring vessel bound for Tarshish to escape prophecy, gotten caught in a storm, had the crew throw me overboard, and been swallowed by a fish.
You’re right. Those things haven’t happened to you. And they probably won’t happen to (any) of us. But, still, the Zohar says that this is the real story of your life.
You are Jonah. The real you, for “Jonah”—in Kabbalistic parlance—is another name for the soul. Hence, the story of Jonah is the story of a soul’s journey here on earth. Thus, on Yom Kippur, as we examine our lives and consider our purpose in this world, we remember the historical Jonah whose real-life narrative symbolizes our spiritual odyssey."
For me personally, choosing to use my middle name Jonah is my way of creating a daily reminder that my soul is on a journey, that life is a journey, and to make it purposeful rather than materialistic. Jonah teaches me to listen to the "wiser voice" in me. Jonah teaches me not to postpone or avoid what I should do. And Jonah's story showed me the depth of meaning that can be found in our journey.
My middle name Jonah is a blessing, and it is time to elevate it over my first name, Robert. Thank you all for enduldging me by honoring my somewhat awkward request: Please call me by my middle name, Jonah.
Kindly,
R. Jonah Ritter
P.S. Because my legal name includes Jonah, I will not be doing a legal name change. Jonah IS already my name. It is more of change in preference - R. Jonah instead of Robert J. Ritter. So I will introduce myself to new people as Jonah, but I will still answer to Bob, Bobby, and Robert. And of course, Son and Dad, and occasionally, a slew of insults.
P.P.S. More from Rabbi Taub:
Your story begins at birth. A soul from on high is plunged into an earthly body. Before its descent, the soul lived an angel-like existence, basking in a glow of spirituality, intimately bound to its Creator. But the soul must leave its home. It is confined to a material vessel, its senses overwhelmed by the brash stimuli of this world. “Jonah,” the soul, “boards the ship,” the body. And where does this ship take its passenger? “Away from the presence of G‑d.” Indeed, the very name of Jonah—closely related to a Hebrew word meaning “aggrieved”—alludes to the unique frustration of the soul confined to the body.
The soul, Jonah, the hapless passenger, has traveled far away from G‑d. Yet, where can one go and be far from the One? Where is it that the Omnipresent cannot be found? Has the soul—upon entering this coarse, physical realm—really left G‑d behind? Just as G‑d was with Jonah at the moment of his first prophecy in the Holy Land, so too was G‑d with Jonah as he languished on the high seas.
And yet, we, like Jonah, delude ourselves into thinking that our journey to this earth has somehow taken us “out of range” of our relationship with G‑d. Like Jonah, we take this perceived distance as an indication that we have somehow been dismissed from our mission. But no; the soul does not escape G‑d by coming down to this earth. To the contrary, it is an agent of G‑d, a representative of His will charged with imbuing sanctity into the mundane and perfecting an imperfect world.
Sooner or later, the false lure of material satisfaction comes to its inevitable conclusion, and the physical life to which the soul had resigned itself grows unruly and fierce. “The Almighty rouses a furious tempest.” Not to punish, heaven forbid, but to shake the soul from its complacency, for “Jonah had gone down to the inner part of the ship . . . and slept.” The soul is numb.
“So the captain came and said to him, ‘What do you mean, you sleeper? Arise, call upon your G‑d!’” A voice of conscience stirs from within. “What is your occupation?” What have you done with your life? Why are you here? Why were you sent?
The moment of truth. The soul must acquiesce. G‑d is here too, and I am none other than His very messenger. My life has a purpose. “I am a Hebrew, and I revere the G‑d of Israel!”"
