Understanding YHWH: The Name of God in Biblical, Rabbinic, and Medieval Jewish Thought

By Hillel Ben-Sasson

This book unlocks the Jewish theology of YHWH in three central stages of Jewish thought: the Hebrew bible, rabbinic literature, and medieval philosophy and mysticism. Providing a single conceptual key adapted from the philosophical debate on proper names, the book paints a dynamic picture of YHWH’s meanings over a spectrum of periods and genres, portraying an evolving interaction between two theological motivations: the wish to speak about God and the wish to speak to Him. Through this investigation, the book shows how Jews interpreted God's name in attempt to map the human-God relation, and to determine the measure of possibility for believers to realize a divine presence in their midst, through language.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Release date: Dec 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9783030323127

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© The Author(s) 2019

H. Ben-SassonUnderstanding YHWHJewish Thought and Philosophyhttps://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-32312-7_1

1. Introduction

Hillel Ben-Sasson¹  

(1)

Jewish Theological Seminary, New York, NY, USA

Hillel Ben-Sasson

Preface

The name YHWH is unique among divine names in Jewish tradition. The most commonly used divine name in the Bible, YHWH was acknowledged already in rabbinic literature as the single proper name for God, a status granted neither to biblical terms such as Elohim, El, Shaddai, or Sabaoth¹ nor to later ones such as the Holy One, Blessed be He, Makom, and Master of the Universe. Prohibitions and taboos that pertain to writing and articulating this name bear witness to its special status, as does its liturgical supremacy. Moreover, the connection between God and God’s name has been intensified by persistent efforts of thinkers in various periods to interpret the Name, to uncover its meanings, and to utilize these meanings to construct a theoretical discourse on the divine. In this book I examine several chapters in the history of these efforts from biblical to medieval times. In so doing, I attempt to provide a single conceptual key for unlocking all interpretations of YHWH in Jewish tradition through many historical periods and across diverse genres. This conceptual key draws on the treatment of proper names in the modern philosophy of language, which center on the distinction between description, which means speaking about God through His proper name, and designation, which involves speaking to God through His name.

The Question of Divine Names

Investigating the meaning of the divine name YHWH, which is the focus of this study, must be preceded by a fundamental question: why does a single God even need a name? In a polytheistic world populated by many gods, the names of various deities function (among other things) as definite expressions, like any proper name. Thus, any pantheon must include not only numerous gods but also their numerous proper names (and even family names). Such a polytheistic setting may account for the fact that the single God of Abrahamic religions has a proper name. Monotheism, in its various forms, developed in idolatrous environments. Judaism grew against the backdrop of polytheistic Egypt, Canaan, Midian, and Mesopotamia. Christianity, although rooted in Judaism, evolved—both politically and theologically—through continuous, close contact with pagan societies, both Roman and Hellenistic Mediterranean. Islam, which emerged centuries later, also had to carve out its own space against Jahili surroundings, as attested to by both historical documents and the Quran. In such a context, divine names could serve to tell the one true god apart from other contemporary deities, false as they may be. Yet these functional considerations do not exhaust the full meaning of divine names in monotheistic religions, even in their initial stages, when fighting idolatry was paramount.

For monotheists, the name of the single God not only identifies Him uniquely among a plurality of deities but also represents Him in a variety of ways. In fact, the significance of the divine name actually grew after the polytheistic setting ceased to be relevant. As a word representing God, His name became a locus of revelation in language. The name became a site in which the sublime is revealed in the earthly, the transcendent in the immanent. Nonetheless, the significance of divine names varies among the three monotheistic religions. In Christianity, earthly representations of the divine largely focus on Jesus the Son, and especially on the religious role and significance of the icon. The name of the Father has remained, as a rule, an issue for scholastic theology. In Islam, while divine names are central to religious life and thought, religious practice revolves mainly around Allah’s 99 names, all of which are attributes rather than proper names. The name Allah itself is the subject of lively debate among traditional Muslim thinkers and modern scholars, who are divided over whether it is a proper name or a descriptive expression (much like Elohim in Hebrew). Although Islam and Christianity attach great importance to divine names, this work centers on the distinctive significance attributed to the issue in Judaism.

In Judaism, God’s proper name lies at the very heart of religious language. The divine name serves as the closest representation of God in language; as a written object, it is also the most important graphic and physical representation of Him. Thus, attitudes toward the Name become attitudes to God Himself; sanctification, sacrilege, fear, and love are transposed from God to His name. The divine name YHWH is so central to Jewish tradition that He is routinely referred to as ha-shem, literally The Name. Indeed, after Judaism was relieved of direct confrontation with concrete paganism, the obvious reasons for God having a proper name disappeared. Yet, despite this disappearance, or perhaps precisely because of it, the divine name became the central object of religious contemplation, speculation, fear, and desire.

The Many Interpretations of the Name YHWH

An investigation into the meaning of words, and especially proper names, usually begins with their etymology and morphology. Unlike other appellations assigned to God in Jewish tradition, YHWH has neither a simple etymology nor a clear-cut morphology. Moreover, although the correct articulation of YHWH became a form of esoteric knowledge by the end of the Second Temple period, the Name retained its dominance in text. In writing, YHWH appears tied to the verb hyh or to be in Hebrew, a connection already noted in intra-biblical exegesis. At the burning bush, Moses receives this name when God introduces Himself with what is likely a permutation of YHWH: "Ehyeh asher ehyeh, often translated as I AM THAT I AM". Later, this link was officially acknowledged when shem havayah, the Name of Being, became the term denoting YHWH.

The combination of morphological oddity, no exoteric tradition of correct pronunciation, and possible etymological proximity to the Hebrew verb to be may have contributed to the prolific hermeneutics of YHWH throughout Jewish history. Yet, while some commentaries address morphology and etymology, almost all treat YHWH with much richer conceptual, semiotic, historical, and hermeneutic tools.

It is possible, therefore, to understand from polytheistic backgrounds why a singular God has a proper name, although He seemingly does not need to be distinguished, and that the peculiar etymology of YHWH may have situated the name as an object of unusual speculation. However, this does not account for the abundance and variety of interpretations offered for the Name, nor for the exceptional volume of this interpretive project. After all, names do not need to have meaning beyond their referent in order to function properly; arguably, getting from reference to referent merely requires agreement among interlocutors.

The argument that informs this work is an attempt to solve this conundrum. Precisely because investigating the meaning of a proper name seems superfluous, I suggest the following: that charting the various interpretations of YHWH is charting the project of exploration into the very possibility that a lingual object can refer to God, and the theological horizons that emanate from this possibility. These investigations divide into two types of questions: what can one learn about God from His name, and what possibilities can this name offer for speaking to God. From this perspective, there is not only an inner logic to the project of investigating the possibilities in naming God and the special connections between God and His name but also philosophical and theological value. Philosophers have been grappling with the referential relationship between names and named entities since Plato. They have tried to decipher the enigmatic process by which words in general, and specifically names or nouns, become attached to things in the world. How a word can distinguish what we commonly refer to as God is especially mysterious. The relationship between language and things is one issue; the relationship between language and God is another altogether and, in fact, may not even exist.

This book traces the meaning of the name YHWH throughout three major stages of Jewish thought: the Hebrew Bible, rabbinic literature, and medieval philosophy and mysticism. It provides the first part of a panoramic picture of the divine name YHWH in Jewish tradition. This picture is more than an amalgam of loosely related discussions; it is a means of unfolding Jewish theology and its history in full, in light of YHWH’s central role in all strands of Jewish tradition, in both text and practice. Analyzed through the lens of the philosophical debate over naming, the repeated attempts to interpret the name YHWH express an ongoing effort to trace the relationship between God and language. Pondering the name of God becomes a way of demarcating the boundaries of the relationship between man and God, marking the latter’s presence among the former, and investigating the possibility of promoting such presence through language.

Proper Names: A Philosophical Outline of the Problem

To explore the meaning of God’s name, let us first define proper names. Proper names denote individual and discrete things in reality. On a functional level, we use proper names to pick out a specific object from the multiplicity of things, just as we can refer to a unique object by using a common noun coupled with a demonstrative. For example, we can refer to a particular building in a particular city if we point at it and say this building. We could, however, achieve the same specificity and identify that building by using a proper name, such as the Empire State building. Proper names are a means of referring to individual things even when those things are not available for direct (or deictic) designation. They are linguistic entities that are used for distinction and can function regardless of the speaker’s specific context. Unlike "this x", they denote the individual thing in any time and place. This quality is what makes a proper name the clearest representatives of the named object in language. The relation of a proper name to the object it names is so strong, indeed almost indivisible, that, at least in language, the two become identical. It is this identity that evokes the essential question regarding the nature of proper names: how, exactly, does the name refer to its bearer? What enables this act of reference?

The philosophical investigation of proper names aims to uncover the relationship between the named entity and its name by examining the nature of reference in language. A brief discussion of several landmarks in this investigation is crucial in order to understand the plethora of YHWH interpretations.

Plato: Between Naturalism and Conventionalism

One of the first thinkers to deal with the issue of proper names was Plato, in Cratylus. In this dialogue, Socrates is summoned to serve as an arbitrator in an argument concerning the relation of proper names to their named objects. Hermogenes, the first interlocutor, argues that it is convention alone that determines what name is attributed to a given entity. A name, he claims, is an arbitrary lingual construct agreed upon among speakers of the same language to denote a certain thing. Under no circumstances is it meant to convey any kind of content regarding the named object.²

Against the conventionalist position of Hermogenes stands Cratylus. He argues that a proper name is more than an arbitrary combination of sounds and symbols determined by societal agreement. He holds that a proper name expresses the nature of the thing itself by means of the elementary building blocks that are the syllables, letters, and sounds of a name. Things are characterized by essential qualities, which are represented in some way in their proper names.³ For Hermogenes, names have a designating function; for Cratylus, their principal feature is representational. According to the latter, a word can refer to an object because a name is an adequate representation of the thing within language.

The crux of the debate between Hermogenes and Cratylus, sometimes called the debate between naturalism and conventionalism, can be understood as a disagreement over the source of nominal reference. Hermogenes sees reference as rooted in language, with its success or failure measured by the speakers’ ability to use names in daily communication. In contrast, Cratylus holds that reference is rooted in things themselves, and that the relationship between words and objects depends on, and derives from, the true nature of things. According to Cratylus, language imitates reality and follows in its footsteps.

Aristotle: Conventionalism and Cognitive Content

Whereas Plato can be seen as adopting a middle ground between naturalism and conventionalism, Aristotle is a devout conventionalist. As he states: I say [that a name is a spoken sound made significant] by convention, because no name is a name naturally but only when it has become a symbol.⁴ It is important to understand, though, that for Aristotle, what people agree upon is not to attach a certain set of sounds or written signs to an object in reality, but to ascribe such a set to the impressions that a thing imprints on one’s soul. In his view, reference is not a direct relation between words and objects but a tripartite relationship between words, things in reality, and the mental impressions they create in the soul. For Aristotle, the reference mechanism does not seek to connect language and concrete reality, but rather to bridge between two psychic activities: thought and speech (or writing). This assertion marks an important insight into the way people use proper names in speech, that is, as a means of expressing thoughts and propositions related to certain concrete objects. This view also resonates deeply in the modern philosophy of language, and specifically in descriptive theories of reference such as that of Gottlob Frege’s.

Frege: Proper Names as Descriptions

In his revolutionary essay Sense and Reference,⁵ Gottlob Frege develops Aristotle’s assertion regarding the role of cognition in determining the meaning of proper names. Frege points to the vital role that mental content plays in the functioning of proper names by examining a simple identity sentence: The morning star is the evening star. This sentence asserts that two different proper names denote the same astronomical body—the planet Venus. If we deny that cognitive content plays a role in determining the meaning of a name, then this sentence is no different from the tautological (and a priori) identity statement, Venus is Venus. If both morning star and evening star refer to the same object, and reference is no more than a means of pointing to an object, then both sentences are ultimately identical. However, whereas Venus is Venus is a negligible utterance that teaches us nothing about the object named Venus, identifying the morning star with the evening star is anything but trivial. It signifies the dramatic astronomical discovery that the heavenly objects that were previously believed to be two distinct stars (as they appear in the sky at different times during Earth’s orbit), and were therefore referred to by different proper names, are in fact the same planet. According to Frege, conflating Venus is Venus with the assertion that the morning star and the evening star are the same thing is a misunderstanding of how people use proper names, as it overlooks so much of the meaning encapsulated in names.

According to Frege, in order to understand how names relate to the objects they denote, we must distinguish between the reference of a name and its sense. The reference of a proper name is the object to which it refers, whereas the sense of a name is the mode of representation of that object expressed by this specific name. In other words, the sense of a name is a certain description of an object; it reflects certain mental content that is attributed to the object. Hence, the same object (or reference, to use Frege’s term) may have multiple senses, that is, multiple proper names. Each of these names will represent a certain aspect, or description, of that reference. In Frege’s words: A proper name (word, sign, sign combination, expression) expresses its sense, refers to or designates its referent. By means of a sign we express its sense and designate its referent.⁶

The value of Frege’s distinction for understanding how names relate to objects becomes clear when considering its ramifications. By differentiating sense and reference, Frege expands our understanding of the act of naming to include the content that indeed exists in proper names. He integrates descriptive content about the object into the name without resorting to the kind of naturalism demonstrated by Cratylus. In other words, Frege’s analysis makes room for the descriptive richness that is encapsulated in proper names without mystifying language.

Another contribution of the descriptive theory is its explanation for why various names refer to the same entity yet carry different meanings. What Frege calls mode of representation explains how every proper name is unique, even if it refers to the same object as other names. Frege’s theory is extremely sensitive to the ways in which people use proper names. It acknowledges that proper names do more than point to named objects: they allow us to express the subtleties of various perceptions that we form regarding named things. Frege’s analysis clarifies the difference between the titles that we ascribe to people (such as the first president of the United States), their proper names (George Washington), and the nicknames they are called by their loved ones. Each of these names expresses a different mode of representation of the person, and therefore a different relationship between the person and their environment.

Despite its merits, the descriptive theory formulated by Frege and others⁷ invokes a fundamental problem regarding how to determine the meaning of proper names. A dependency is created between the particular content that the speaker believes pertains to the named object, and the ability of the proper name to successfully refer to that content. If, for example, it is discovered that the first president of the U.S. was not the man called George Washington, does that mean that we were not referring to George Washington earlier? As long as the meaning of a proper name is contingent on a particular description of the named entity, and the referential power of this name to denote that entity depends on this description, the relationship between a name and its bearer becomes content-dependent; that is, it hinges on historical facts and on our knowledge of these facts. Such a connection between name and named entity is too weak. It does not adequately capture the way in which names are ascribed to objects. The attachment between a thing and its proper name is stronger and cannot depend on the veracity of one description or another.

Kripke: Proper Names as Rigid Designators, Direct Reference as a Historical Chain

Twentieth-century philosopher Saul Kripke rejected the descriptive theory.⁸ In his view, the attachment between name and object is far more powerful than mere description. The qualities of an entity that are depicted by description cannot suffice to capture the full referential power of names. For instance, Kripke argues emphatically, George Washington would remain George Washington even if all the descriptive content we ascribe to him turned out to be false.

In contrast to Frege and his followers (Russell, Searle, and arguably Wittgenstein), Kripke sees proper names as rigid designators of individual objects. Their ability to properly refer to the named thing is wholly independent of description. A name designates its bearer regardless of any qualities or attributes of that thing, or, as some philosophers frame it, a name designates the named object in all possible worlds. For Frege and other descriptionists, a description (or cluster of them) anchors the name to the object by serving as a mediator between language and reality. Names are merely a sophisticated pointing mechanism; when we use them, we mean that we are talking about the thing or person that satisfies this or that description. Just as we could say this person and point our finger to her, so we can use a name and extend a description that serves as a pointing finger. But how, then, is reference possible for Kripke? What can take the place of description in connecting word, proper name, and thing in reality that lies completely outside the realm of language?

Interestingly, Kripke’s answer combines causal and historical elements. In his model, a proper name refers to its object due to an original act of baptism in which a thing was directly pointed at (or adequately defined) and given a name.⁹ From that moment on, a historical chain is formed, carrying the meaning of the name to other speakers. Whoever wishes to successfully use a certain name must learn how a certain community of interlocutors uses it—namely, to whom or to what they intend to point when using this name. According to this causal-historical theory, there is a clear and distinct difference between proper names and definite descriptions of the type the x that is qualified by p. This is because definite descriptions may convey information about the named entity that is true or false. In contrast, a proper name, according to Kripke’s theory, simply points at the entity directly, without any mediating content. Correct use of a proper name always relies on, and returns to, the initial pointing event in which reference was fixed and a name given.

To sum up this short excursion, several philosophical theories provide us with views on the proper name and into how it relates to the thing it names. The views discussed earlier trace two paths leading from the name to its bearer. The first approach includes those who believe that the meaning of a name and its ability to denote an individual thing are found in content regarding that entity which is incorporated in the name. Both a conventionalist view, such as that of Frege’s, and a staunch naturalistic view, such as that of Cratylus, share this descriptive path, as they presume that a name expresses true knowledge about the named thing. The second path, represented here by Kripke’s designating theory, is characterized by the belief that a proper name can rigidly signify the entity that it names without any need for a mediating layer of cognitive knowledge.

Adapted to theological language, these two positions reveal that Jewish theology consists of an interplay between descriptive and designating motivations: wishing to speak about God and seeking ways to speak to Him. The following chapters discuss a variety of interpretations regarding the name YHWH, all of which offer different combinations of these two tendencies and motivations.

A Brief Review of Scholarship on YHWH

There are hardly any exegetical or contemplative Jewish texts that do not address the name YHWH in some way. Accordingly, almost every scholarly field relating to Judaism discusses the Name in some capacity. Each chapter in this study discusses the relevant literature, with detailed references. Several important studies are noteworthy in the introduction, as they provide the textual and conceptual framework for much of this study.

Among the vast literature concerning the name YHWH in the Hebrew Bible and specifically its appearance in Exodus 3, de-Vaux’s survey of YHWH’s possible meanings and Abba’s close reading of the Name as referring to God’s covenantal commitment are especially helpful.¹⁰ In addition, several commentaries on Exodus include illuminating discussions on the name YHWH in Exodus 3, such as Greenberg, Propp, Childs, and Driver.¹¹ In rabbinic literature, Urbach and Naeh both provide important context for the identification of YHWH with the measure of mercy.¹² Wolfson and Dahl and Segal complement the discussion with their works on Philo’s presumably inverse position on the identification of YHWH with mercy.¹³ On the rabbinic blessing formula, the foundational scholarship of Elbogen, Heinemann, Fleischer, and Lieberman was later developed by Halbertal, Bar-On, and Schneider.¹⁴ Taken together, these latter works provide an elaborate instrument for assessing the meaning of YHWH as emerging from legal frameworks. Grözinger, Janowitz, and Weiss contribute important insights into the Name in early Jewish esoteric texts, a corpus which unfortunately remains largely beyond the scope of this study.¹⁵

Moving on to the Middle Ages, Afterman’s comprehensive analysis of mystical union, a topic that is intrinsically tied to the divine Name, has informed many of my readings.¹⁶ Specifically, Kohen and Simon provide a clear exposition of Ibn Ezra’s intricate numerical interpretations of the Name, which are complemented by Schwartz and Sela on Ibn Ezra’s magical and astrological views on YHWH.¹⁷ Silman and Lobel provide a very helpful context on Judah Halevi’s theological views, which is necessary for understanding his peculiar positions regarding the Name.¹⁸ These are complemented by Harvey’s concise work on the Tetragrammaton in Halevi’s thought.¹⁹

Lobel’s book on R. Bahya Ibn Paqudah and his Sufi tendencies contain an important discussion on divine unity that sheds light on his approach to the Name.²⁰ Among the rich scholarship on Maimonides, Pines’ invaluable contribution preceded several important discussions of YHWH’s role in Maimonidean theology, such as Schwartz on negative theology, Stern on logical syntax, and Lorberbaum on poetics and theology.²¹ Finally, with respect to early Kabbalah, my analysis directly corresponds with Scholem’s seminal work on the topic of divine names and kabbalistic language.²² In addition to Scholem, the works of Idel, Wolfson, Mopsik, and Fishbane on mystical-liturgical intentions provide necessary background for the present study.²³ Pedaya and Sendor are key to understanding R. Isaac the Blind on YHWH, and Idel’s work on the Torah as a divine name and divine body sheds light on a key characteristic of early kabbalistic understandings of the Name.²⁴ Finally, my discussion of Nahmanides on YHWH draws strongly from Halbertal and Pedaya, and especially from their presentation of the connection between the mystical and exegetical Nahmanides.²⁵

Despite the immensity of literature on the subject, YHWH and its status as a proper name have never been dedicated a comprehensive scholarly work. No one has thus far attempted to paint a picture of YHWH’s meaning across periods and genres while offering conceptual and textual discussion. This study seeks to at least partially fill that gap.

The Structure of This book

The chapters of this book are arranged diachronically. Chapter 2 discusses the divine name YHWH in the Hebrew Bible, focusing on the intra-biblical interpretation of the Name given in Exod. 3:13–15. I examine possible Semitic and Egyptian etymologies for YHWH, but reject the possibility that they may have played a substantial role in the Hebrew Bible’s own understanding of the Name. The chapter moves on to a literary analysis of Exodus 3, comparing it to messenger-appointment and theophany tropes. This comparison exposes a unique structure of the burning bush narrative, best paralleled by another unique theophany in Exodus 33–34. In addition to a structural and terminological affinity, these two narratives share a crucial element: both understand the theophanic climax for Moses as involving invocation of God’s name, YHWH. Through this comparison, a single concern shared by both narratives emerges: the promise of divine presence, along with the tension and potential catastrophe it entails. With this insight, the chapter returns to analyzing the names Ehyeh and YHWH as derived from the Hebrew verb to be, hyh, demonstrating how the conjugated verb ehyeh in its biblical use denotes active being, or becoming, rather than a static, immutable state of transcendent being. The chapter argues, in conclusion, that the name Ehyeh asher ehyeh encapsulates the conditioning of the promise of divine closeness on His ultimate freedom to be whatever He will be. Such freedom can pose a serious threat to the covenantal relationship that is so central to the Exodus narrative. In contrast, the name YHWH given in Exodus 3:15 mitigates this tension, primarily emphasizing the promise of divine presence and de-emphasizing any divine freedom that might overshadow it, thus making YHWH a more appropriate mode of addressing God for generations to come.

The next two chapters address the Name in rabbinic literature. Chapter 3 discusses the hermeneutical decision, which first appears in the Sifre on Deuteronomy, to identify the divine name YHWH with the measure of mercy (midat ha-raḥamim). The chapter shows that this decision should be understood in light of a systematic rabbinic effort to mark YHWH as a privileged name for the divine, in a separate class from other biblical and rabbinic appellations. The choice to identify the name YHWH with the measure of mercy should be understood as an assertion about God’s very nature. Analyzing the notion of mercy in rabbinic literature, the chapter argues that, for the rabbis, God’s nature is understood not in metaphysical terms but rather in dialogical terms linked to divine concern and personhood. The audacity of this hermeneutical move is clarified through a comparison to Philo’s position on divine attributes. Contrary to what is commonly argued in scholarship, that Philo believes YHWH to be associated with the measure of judgment, for Philo the name YHWH denotes the transcendent part of the divine, the part beyond definition that is eternal and immutable. In Philo’s thought, two powers emanate from this Supreme Being: judgment, denoted by kurios (κύριος, Greek for Adonai), and mercy, which Philo terms theos (Θεός, a Greek rendition of Elohim). Whereas for Philo, Being is the meaning of God’s proper name, for the rabbis, it is His personality.

If the second chapter examines the rabbis’ hermeneutical audacity, Chap. 4 considers their dramatic legal moves. This chapter delves into the decision to integrate the invocation of YHWH into blessings, as epitomized in Rab’s assertion (Bavli Ber. 12a) that any blessing in which the Name is not mentioned is no blessing at all. A close analysis of the term lehazkir et ha-shem (to invoke the Name) in rabbinic literature indicates that this term denotes sensitive sacral activity: invoking the name YHWH in ritualistic contexts at the temple, an action that was understood—in and of itself—as an important theophanic event. Thus, by relocating the act of invocation from the temple to religious activities performed by laymen outside the temple, the rabbis chose to disseminate theophanic potential into everyday religious life. This conclusion is reinforced by two comparisons. The first relates to the debate over invoking the Name outside the temple by non-priestly agents. The rabbinic position that such invocation is permissible and even obligatory is juxtaposed against the attitudes of three separate groups: the morning bathers mentioned in the Mishnah and elsewhere, the systematic tendency of Qumran scribes to substitute the name YHWH with various conjugations of El and Elohim, and the position that can be discerned from Hekhalot texts, according to which the act of invoking the Name is performed by either angels or select mystics only. All three groups share a resistance to the rabbinic permission to anyone to invoke the Name anywhere.

The second comparison contrasts rabbinic invocation of the Name with Philo’s writings. Philo disconnects the act of invocation from the ability to summon divine presence and its attendant abundance, highlighting the boldness of the rabbis’ decree. The decision to integrate the Name into the institutionalized blessing adds an important layer to the rabbinic identification of the name YHWH with mercy, by prescribing a formula to address this merciful side of the divine and by anchoring its potential in the act of blessing.

The discussion then moves to medieval Jewish thought. Chapter 5 examines two early and highly influential treatments of the name YHWH. The first part of the chapter centers on R. Abraham Ibn Ezra, who devoted several extensive discussions to the meaning of YHWH, which he viewed as a unique lingual entity. This section analyzes Ibn Ezra’s view that the letters comprising the names YHWH and Ehyeh are in fact the creative and sustaining forces within the linguistic realm. The discussion also surveys the potent magical and astrological qualities of YHWH according to Ibn Ezra, along with numerous mathematical, astronomical, and geometrical qualities that he found in these names and in their constituent letters. Ibn Ezra’s position, as it emerges from this discussion, is that YHWH goes beyond merely denoting God: the Name actually serves as a full replacement for God in specific layers of reality, namely the linguistic and the numerical. Ibn Ezra believes that in both these ontological layers, the role of God’s name is similar to that of God Himself toward the created world—it generates all life and perpetually enables all motion.

The second part of Chap. 5 examines the special status of YHWH in R. Judah Halevi’s thought. Given Halevi’s esoteric (sod) understanding of the Name as capable of being known and properly used by an exclusive group only, I suggest that Halevi sees the Name not merely as a proper name, but primarily as a private one. That is to say, for Halevi, suitable use of the Name is conditioned on previous direct acquaintance with His bearer. The chapter argues that, for Halevi, YHWH is most comparable to appellations such as Dad or Mom—titles that can only be appropriately used by particular individuals with a unique affiliation to the bearer of the name. In this sense, Halevi follows the Hebrew Bible and the rabbis in arguing that the descriptive content of YHWH highlights the possibility of addressing God directly. His important innovation is that the Name not only marks the possibility of addressing God but is the result of prior dialogue between humans and the divine, an interpretation that grounds the Name’s meaning in its own existence.

Chapter 6 examines the treatment of the Name by three Jewish medieval negative theologians. Divine names pose a problem for medieval negative theology. According to Aristotle, when language describes reality, it is describing something that is constructed of substances with changing properties. It follows that God’s oneness and simplicity become wholly incompatible not only with the compound structure (substance and predicate) of things in the world, but also with the very structure of language, which is only meant to describe these compounds through subject-predicate sentences. It thus remains questionable for negative theologians whether one can ever speak of God truthfully. Human language is simply unable to produce utterances that contain meaning with regard to God’s nature or essence. No name, certainly, can pertain to both man and God; a common word might mistakenly be understood as implying some ontological semblance between these two beings. Negative theologians’ suspicion of language and of its ability to form adequate speech acts concerning God leads them to ascribe truth only to utterances concerning God’s actions in the world. Such a broad overruling of language, the chapter argues, brings some of these theologians to deny the possibility that God could have a proper name at all. In accordance with Frege and Russell’s descriptive theories, in medieval philosophy names were commonly conceived of as descriptive expressions. Hence the efforts of R. Bahya Ibn Paqudah and R. Abraham Ibn Daud to deprive YHWH of the status of proper name and to understand it either as a common name or as a homonym (Ibn Daud) or as a mere convention (Ibn Paqudah). The chapter contrasts these views with Maimonides’ audacious move in Chapters 61 to 63 in Part I of The Guide of the Perplexed. Although Maimonides adopts a descriptive approach in the rest of The Guide, here he argues that the name YHWH is indeed the proper and unique name of God, due to its ability to directly and unambiguously refer to Him. I suggest that by denying YHWH any grammatical connection to natural language, Maimonides affords this name the status of a Kripkean rigid designator. As such, the name YHWH succeeds in pointing directly at God without describing Him.

The final chapter (Chap. 7) offers a detailed discussion of the intricate project of interpreting the Name in the early Kabbalah of Provence and Gerona. This chapter follows the writings of Isaac the Blind, Ezra and Azriel of Gerona, Abraham Ben David, Jacob Ben Sheshet, and Nahmanides on the name YHWH. Out of this elaborate survey, three principal interpretive trends emerge. In the first, the Name is seen as a powerful theurgical instrument utilized when mystical intention (kavanah) ascends to heaven, in order to heal the fractures of divine worlds. Unlike earlier Jewish magic, which performs actions with the divine name YHWH, these early Kabbalah masters designed the theurgical action to be performed on the Name itself. The second trend identifies the name YHWH with a central sefirah, usually tif’eret, rendering it a theosophical cornerstone of the Godhead. This view, I argue, is a mystical development of the rabbinic identification of the Name with the measure of mercy, which at the same time marks a shift away from the original rabbinic view. While the rabbis understand mercy in the Name as a means of constructing intersubjective, dialogical relationships with God, the mystics use this measure—again, usually matched with tif’eret—to create a more accurate reference to one specific sefirah. This, in turn, allows them to turn the measure of mercy itself into an object of contemplation, that is, enables the mystical subject to relate more closely to a central mystical object. The third trend is the mystical view that each of the various letters comprising the Name contains its own references, and that together they create a concise yet full map of the divine world of sefirot. This theosophical mapping project also creates interesting connections between the name Ehyeh, viewed in the Kabbalah as the internal, more esoteric, and higher name, and the name YHWH, which is far more common in daily religious life, both in written form in the Torah and in liturgy. I contend that, together, these three trends form a coherent view of the connections between the Name and its divine bearer as a special pictorial relationship. For the mystics, the name YHWH is not a conventional means for denoting God in speech; instead, it is a detailed picture of the divine world. As a picture, the Name not only depicts the intricate dynamics of the divine world but can also point at mystical paths to approach it.

Finally, this book suggests that from the biblical interpretation of the Name, which integrates both a descriptive and designative or indicative sense, two hermeneutical traditions arise. Out of the integration of these hermeneutical traditions, a tendency particular to the Jewish tradition emerges, indicating that Jews ask less what God is, and more how can God be spoken to.

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