A Name Given, A Life Chosen
By Berke Chein
I was born on 26 Iyar, the 41st day of the Omer. Yesod sheb’Yesod.
The foundation within foundation.
In Chassidus, Yesod is the channel, the point where truth becomes connection,
where what’s hidden becomes real.
That day gave me a soul built for transmission, but also sensitive to when the flow is blocked.
That day stamped my soul with a Sefira, a Hayom Yom, a spiritual trajectory.
But it didn’t yet give me a name.
My name came eight days later, at my Bris.
And with it came a lineage, and a question.
—
I was named Chaim Dovber, after my great-grandfather Dovber Chein (Reb Berke).
He was a man who lived through darkness with light.
At one point, during a period of serious illness,
a name was added to strengthen him: Chaim. Life.
That name stayed with him.
Years later, in a Soviet prison,
he famously lit a menorah in his cell,
using an onion, butter, and a wool wick rubbed against stone.
He didn’t have candles or matches.
He had Yesod, inner foundation, unwavering truth.
But I received both names from the beginning.
Not just to remember him, we never could have met..
My Bris was on his first Yartzeit..
but maybe to continue the healing he began.
To carry both Chaim and Dovber from birth,
is to hold life and strength in one breath.
Not just the fire he lit,
but the life behind it,
and the foundation that made it possible.
It’s a name that doesn’t just look back.
It calls me forward.
—
What does it mean to be named like that?
To be born on Yesod sheb’Yesod, the channel of truth and connection.
To carry a name rooted in strength, Dovber. Not just a bear. Bear².
And in life, Chaim, the spark that lit a flame in a Russian prison.
The Hayom Yom for 26 Iyar says:
“You shall not hate your brother… you shall surely rebuke him.
And if the words had no effect, you are responsible.
Because they were not words that came from the heart.”
That teaching hit me hard this year.
Because I started to realize that not everything I was given, even in Torah, came with warmth.
Some things were passed down more out of survival than relationship.
And my soul, wired for Yesod, couldn’t carry something that didn’t feel whole.
When truth comes without presence, it can wound.
When rebuke comes without heart, it closes the soul.
And so it makes sense.
My soul was sent to carry something forward, but not blindly.
Because not everything passed down was whole, even if it was holy.
This is why I had to pause and look back.
The Sefira, the Hayom Yom, the stories, the silence, they were part of me.
But I had to decide which parts needed to be restored before being passed on.
So I had to question what I inherited,
not to reject it, but to restore it.
To make it my own.
And to refine it with love.
Because a name is a Bris. A covenant.
And not all covenants are passed down clean.
Some come tangled, with memory, with silence, with unfinished stories.
—
I carry the name Dovber, and I carry Chaim with it.
I carry legacy, and I carry the hope that freed it.
My great-grandfather lit candles in exile.
I’m lighting paths through inner exile.
He spoke from the place he survived.
I speak from the place I’m learning to heal.
Both of us are saying:
Even in darkness, light is possible.
But it must come from the heart.
—
So what does the future bring?
The Tanya of 26 Iyar talks about Malchus,
the place where the light becomes real, where truth takes form.
And Malchus always follows Yesod.
It starts the day after my birthday.
It’s the next step.
If Yesod is what I hold inside,
Malchus is how must I bring it into the world.
It’s how I speak, how I show up,
how I carry what I’ve refined and make it visible.
Not just in thought or reflection,
but in relationship. In presence. In choice.
It’s how I live my name.
How I turn what I’ve healed into something I can give.
—
On the day my soul came into the world, I bless us all:
May we live our true names.
Not just carry them, but become them.
And may everything we give to others come from the heart.
Like we say in Davening every day: הֲרֵנִי מְקַבֵּל עָלַי מִצְוַת עֲשֵׂה שֶׁל וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ
With love,
Chaim Dovber Chein
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