Peace, one and all…
As recent posts testify, I’ve been thinking a lot about identity and names of late. As I say in my introductory page, my own Muslim name (Abdur Rahman) is a statement of both identity and aspiration. That is, it is a description of who I am and where I want to go/what I wish to become.
When my wife and I named our children, we had very similar ideals in mind. That is, we chose names which seemed to describe something about our children, our about our perception of them. We also chose names that reflect our hopes and aspirations for them. Upon reflection, I think that most (if not all) parents do this kind of thing when they name their children. Most names, it seems, refer to a parent’s hopes, inspirations and dreams, to their sense of beauty, or otherwise to their lineage (that is, to a portion of that child’s identity).
At any rate, we named our first daughter Sakinah Yasmin. This was because we both liked the name Sakinah (which means ‘tranquility’). It is used in the Quran to describe the descent of tranquility from heaven; it is also cognate with the Hebrew term Shekinah (which means something like the ‘Divine presence on earth’). We knew our daughter came to us from heaven, and that she brought tranquility into our lives. We also perceived (rightly, as things turned out) that she would need to understand this tranquility, in all its fullness, herself (my daughter tries to take the cares of the world upon her young shoulders). Yasmin (or Jasmine) is a fragrant and beautiful flower, which is what our daughter means to us; it is also her maternal grandmother’s name (that is, it is also a statement of lineage).
We named our son Yusaf Abdur Rahman Norman. Perhaps a trifle long-winded, but what the heck! The Prophet Yusuf was the most handsome man who ever lived, according to the Islamic tradition. He was also a Prophet, with a particular skill in dream interpretation. He was, moreover, the embodiment of patience in the face of life’s ups and downs. We both wished to pass these resources and potentials on to our son. Moreover, knowing our son, we both see his need to develop patience (he’s an energetic one). Abdur Rahman is, of course, my own Muslim name. That is, he stands in my line (for good or ill). I gave him my Muslim name for the same reason I chose it: I hope that he will aspire to mercy himself. Norman is my father’s name. Again, this is a statement of lineage; we also hoped to remind him of where he comes from – so that, in all his struggles, he knows his roots.
Our third (and most recent) child we named Layla Aliyah Lydia. Ever since I first heard it, I loved the name Layla. It means ‘night’ and is a truly ancient name (being common amongst the ancient Mesopotamians and our Jewish brethren). Layla certainly has a mysterious quality about her! Moreover, in Sufi thought, Layla refers to the hidden, attractive, mysterious quality of God; the night-time is also specifically thought of as a time of closeness to and love for, God. We see these qualities in her; we also hope that she will develop there potentials.
We named her Aliyah too. Firstly, because we have long loved this name. It comes from the same root as Ali (meaning ‘exalted’, ‘noble’). Interestingly, it is also the translation into Arabic of my mother’s made, Patricia (which comes from the term ‘patrician’, or noble). It is therefore another statement of connection, of lineage. Lydia is my mother’s middle name, and one which she has always felt to be her ‘true’ name. Lydia is an area of southern Turkey. In ancient times, it was the kingdom ruled by King Creosus (a possible candidate for the legendary King Midas). Here is another connection to my mother and also, to an inner quality, an inner name. We gave it to her because it suggested to us an inner richness, a wealth of spirit, that we see in her.
May God shower his mercies on my wife and children. May God complete them and fulfill them, now and evermore.
Related posts: Talking with Treebeard; Finding my Identity; Ya Abdu!
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
