Surnames -Some Jewish History

May, 2015

Once, by a simcha in Buffalo, a man showed up to shul, took a yarmulke from the bin and placed it on his head. He came over and introduced himself to me as a lawyer in town, friendly with the father of the groom.

“Babad is my last name”.

That name seemed so familiar, but I just could not place it. “Do you possibly have relatives in Toronto (my home town)?” I asked him.

He did not.

I shrugged my shoulders, as if to say ‘my error’, and turned to move on to greet the next guest when he tapped me on my shoulder.

 “Perhaps my name is familiar to you because you know of my great ancestor, I think he wrote a book on the commandments?”

Why, of course! Rav Yosef Babad was the author of the classic commentary to the Sefer Hachinuch, titled Minchas Chinuch. While I had never determined exactly how they were related, it was a reminder of just how last names can sometimes reveal so many secrets about a Jew.

Last week we explored the idea of everyone having a unique story. In my time in the rabbinate I have been surprised over and over again with the amazing backgrounds of so many in my memberships, often from those one would least expect it.

We talked about a neighbor of mine in Buffalo whom I had never met until several years there and his amazing background –to be continued in a future week.

With the right knowledge a rav can sometimes begin a conversation with someone just from hearing their last name –where their family likely stemmed from (e.g. Reiss/Rice, Halpern), if they are a Kohen, and, sometimes, what possible minhagim they may have.

While the genesis of Jewish last names is somewhat murky, historians agree that it was the sefardim who were first to take on this custom long ago. Indeed, there are some sefardim who may carry names that are predicated upon pesukim, teffilos or zemiros. Those examples may be described as more than simply chosen last names, rather they represent, better put, a type of quasi family coat of arms.

Some of the oldest sefardi surnames –and the oldest Jewish surnames-go back to the end of the geonic era, and include Berdugo and Alfasi (refer to Dr. Chanan Rappaport’s article Sheimos U’Mishpachos B’Yisroel).

When it comes to ashkanazim, however, the practice of last names begins far more recently. Up until not too long ago an individual was very often known through their paternal line, e.g. Avrahan ben Yitzchak.

Of course, there were some exceptions, such as, for example, Teumim, Weil, Eiger, Bacharach, Mintz and Lowe, variations of which we find already in the 1400’s.

It was not until 1787 and 1804, when the Austria-Hungarian empire and the Russians, respectively, issues decrees on many Jews to choose family names when surnames really took-off.

Nevertheless, kinnuiyim or nicknames (for lack of a better term) to describe families dates back further, especially in larger cities. Examples of these range from Metzger, Kaufman and Kaplan/Rokeach for certain occupations, and Frank or Frankel for those stemming from Germany (Frankfurt). The latter surname would often begin as a nickname when someone moved to, say Italy from Frankfurt.

For example, Rav Yehudah Mintz, known today as the Mahari Mintz, moved from Mainz in Germany to Italy in the 1400’s. Once settled in his new home, he became known by the city he emigrated from, Mainz, or, Mintz.

Beyond the examples above, and because a paternal name for a kohen or a levi would often anyway end with that term, last names like Cohen, Levi, Levin and Katz (abbreviated from ‘Kohen Tzedek’) are also older than most last names.

Most famously is the last name Rappaport, and one of the rare last names with its own Wikipedia page! While some argue that this last name goes back to the 1400’s, the best evidence to its modern provenance is from the 1500’s when Rav Shlomo ben Menachem haKohen Rapa of Venice likely made a shidduch with Rav Avraham Porto haKohen. The former was the rav of this Italian community while the latter was its parnas. Together, the two last names form Rapa-Porto, Rappaport. Further, it seems that both of these families were able to substantiate their yichus all the way back to Ahron hakohen. For this reason, until today, kohanim with the last name of Rappaport are prized. Indeed, it is widely written that the Vilna Gaon would consistently throughout his lifetime redeem himself with coins for his pidyon haben out of fear that each kohen was not really a kohen. He did this until he met a kohen who was carried the last name of Rappaport, at which point he was satisfied.

Speaking of the Vilna Gaon and last names, we discover another secret to surnames. In a recent biography on the life of the Vilna Gaon, the volume had the subtitle, ‘The story of Rav Eliyahu Kramer’, and in other books his surname is spelled Kremmer.

However, historians now seem to agree that neither were his true last name, and this particular surname had only begun to become attached to the Gaon over the past sixty-seventy years.

One resourceful researcher went back to look at the old Vinius (Vilna) census records, and lo-and-behold the true last name of the Vilna Gaon may have been discovered!

“Eliasz Zelmanowicz, wife Chana, son Zelman, daughter Basia, and servant Nechama”. Later records show his second wife Gittel. However, even this researcher admits that the last name Zalmanovitz likely refers to the fact that his father’s name was Zalman. This is an illustrations of another way surnames sprung up.

Some last names are of more recent vintage. Many changed their names upon moving to the new state of Israel. In Buffalo there was a young rav names Rabbi Freidfertick. A deep lover of Eretz Yisroel, about ten years ago he decided to pick up his family and learn in kollel and write sefarim the rest of his life. Upon doing so, he changed his last name to Tzion! (And he has written at least ten sefarim since the move!)

My own last name, Taub, has a number of meanings. Some suggest it refers to a dove, others that it stems from tov/good. But there is another possibility.

Once, an older gentleman, a guest in his shul, went over to my father to give shalom.

“Vuz iz de rav’s nummen?” (What is the rabbi’s name?)

 “Taub”.

“Voz?” (What?)

“Taub”

“Nechemul; vuz?” (Once again, what?)

 “Taub”

 “Ahn shuldiks mir, ubber ich bin toyb” (Excuse me, but I am the “deaf” one.

You see, Taub in Yiddish can also mean deaf.

I was reminded of this potential etymology when doing research on the topic of deafness in halacha for this column several years ago. I kept finding variants of my last name scattered throughout the literature. Often poskim of a couple of hundred years ago would discuss spending time with the deaf/mute they would describe these institutions as: Taub/Stummer-Schul (Deaf/Mute School).

I like to imagine, that if this is indeed the source for my last name, it is not due to a deaf ancestor, but rather to a gadol who was ‘deaf’ to lashon hara!