When I came out to check on them, an African American security guard was standing outside the nursery. She inquired whether she could ask me a personal question. “Sure,” I said, “I am a community Rabbi, I am used to people asking all kinds of personal questions about my life that they would never ask anyone else.”

However, she really caught me off guard when she asked me whether his new name has religious significance. Having not given him a name yet nor even hinting to his sisters what names we are considering, I was very taken aback by the question. I asked her, “What do you think his name is?” She responded, “Your daughter told me his name is Matzah Ball and I am just curious, I thought Matzah Ball was a kind of food and I didn’t realize it was a religious Jewish name.” I looked over at one of my daughters flashing a big smile. She proudly said, “What, Abba? I want his name to be Matzah Ball.”

In Judaism, names matter and carry with them great significance. More than simply an arbitrary word in order to best identify someone, we believe that a name is a description and has an impact on the very essence, identity and destiny of a person. In last week’s Parsha, Bereishis, we read about how God thought it would not be good for Adom to be alone. The next pasuk (2:19) tells us: “And the Lord God formed out of the earth all the wild beasts and all the birds of the sky, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that would be its name.”

Rabbeinu Bachya explains that when Adom gives a name to each animal, he is describing their essence and their traits and he therefore understands that none qualify to be his mate. For example, in describing the donkey he writes, “He recognized in his wisdom that it is the most simple, foolish, and stubborn of all creatures, drawn after its desires, and this is why he called it chamor,” from the root chomer, meaning “material.”

Names are not only descriptive, but they can be proscriptive as well. The Talmud says that parents receive a portion of prophecy when they chose a name for their child. Some name after a loved one hoping the child will develop the same positive attributes. Others name after a Biblical or Historic personality with the prayer that the child will emerge to be similar to the giant for whom he or she is named. And yet others chose a name whose translation means something special and describes their joy in welcoming their newborn into the world.

What does our name say about us? Have we lived up to the person for whom we were named? Does our name accurately describe who we have become or who we strive to be? There is one more question we must ask about our names, and it is the most important question of all – Do we have a good name, a sheim tov? Shlomo HaMelech, King Solomon, the wisest of all men taught us that a sheim tov, a good name is finer than shemen tov, fragrant oil. Moreover, a sheim tov, a good name says the Mishna in Avos, is oleh al gabeihen, stands above everything else.

We can’t control the name we were given, but we can decide to earn a good name through our behavior, actions and character. Our reputations will take us much farther in life than any other aspect of our names.

My son will be given his name on Monday, please God. Until then I can only hope and pray that my Matzah Ball, together with all of our children, will lead a life of distinction, and that they will each earn a sheim tov, a good name and reputation, that will carry them far in life.

Ask any Rabbi today and they will tell you that they spend a large amount of time counseling, supporting and guiding people in failing marriages and deteriorating relationships. Sometimes, when a couple confronts their challenges with the support of therapy and the chizuk of their Rabbi, their marriage emerges stronger than ever having gained skills and perspectives that they didn’t have beforehand. However, it seems as if more and more faltering relationships are resulting in divorce instead of strengthening. When I grew up, one could count on one hand the kids from divorced families in the class and still have plenty of fingers left over. Today, that is not nearly the case as divorce has grown prominently in every segment of the Orthodox community.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are marriages that are not meant to continue and should result in divorce. Indeed, geirushin, divorce, is also a mitzvah in the Torah and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it when the situation demands it. That said, the dramatic increase in divorce in the Jewish community is startling, troubling and begs the question, why is it happening?

The Talmud draws a parallel between finding a suitable mate, and the effort it took God to split the sea, kasheh l’zavgan k’krias yam suf. What is the connection? The Maharal, R. Yehudah Loewe of Prague, explains very poignantly, that the splitting of the sea was a reversal of nature. Naturally, water sinks to the lowest point and water molecules stick together. When Hashem split yam suf, He transcended nature by dividing something that naturally is one unit.

Similarly, says the Maharal, human beings are naturally different, distinct and unique. Each of us has our own tastes, likes, thoughts, opinions, needs, desires, goals, dreams and aspirations. People are naturally apart. To get married, form a union with another, blend and integrate one’s desires, needs and wants with that of someone else, also requires transcending one’s nature and is no less miraculous than the splitting of the sea.

According to marriage expert and researcher, Dr. John Gottman, 69% of conflict in relationships is perpetual and is based on lasting differences in personalities and needs. Couples tend to fight about the same things over and over again. In a happy, successful and fulfilling marriage the couple dialogues about these perpetual issues and comes to compromises or solutions together to navigate through the conflict in the future or to avoid it altogether. In unhappy and failing marriages, couples live in a state of “gridlock” and painful impasse in which they continuously revisit the pain and frustration of the same fight without anything ever changing.

The bottom line is that all relationships and marriage in particular, take great effort and constant attention. We all struggle not to slip back into the natural separate and apart mode in which we think of ourselves first and don’t make room for others. Marriage requires us to be considerate of someone else’s opinion and to sometimes place their needs before our own. Marriage transforms us from takers into givers and provides amazing opportunities to improve ourselves.

The satisfaction, joy, fulfillment and meaning that result in a strong marriage are well worth the work, effort and sacrifice it takes to get there. As we mark the miracle of the splitting of the sea this weekend, let’s create our own miracle by transcending our selfish natures and by building selfless marriages.

Just this week, I had the unenviable task of burying a stillbirth. Few things are as disconcerting and traumatic as placing a tiny coffin in the ground and saying goodbye to a Neshama (soul) whose parents never even got to say Hello. Many women who endure such an episode begin to wonder what was the point of all the nausea, pain and discomfort when it didn’t even result in the birth of a healthy baby? Though it provides little comfort, please know that there is a great value to having been the conduit to bring a perfect Neshama down to this world and having it return to its source completely unblemished, pure and indeed angelic.

In fact, we actually bestow a name upon a stillborn child and in the case of a boy give him a bris. The commentators explain that the reason is that this child will be restored to life at the time of techiyas ha’meisim (the resurrection of the dead) in the Messianic era and we want them to be identifiable to their parents and family. Though this baby never lived to breathe even one breath, their Neshama is very real and one day they will meet their parents who will be overjoyed to welcome them to the family.

I share this with you not to bring you down, depress you or to create a crisis of faith. Quite the contrary, I share it as a stark reminder of how incredibly blessed, fortunate and privileged we are when a pregnancy goes smoothly resulting in the birth of a healthy child. When we contemplate the miracle of conception, gestation and birth, we cannot help but feel that the default is that something should go wrong and in truth, the anomaly is when things go right.

My friend’s father is the head of the neonatal intensive care unit in a prominent hospital in the New York Area. He was once hosting a group of Physicians and gave them a tour of the NICU. They were amazingly impressed when they saw the significantly premature babies who were being sustained through remarkable technology and medicine. They remarked to my friend’s father that these babies were in fact miracles. Without pausing, my friend’s father told them, “No, these are not the miracles. These are the result of our advancement in science, follow me and I will show you the miracles.” He proceeded to take them to the regular nursery, pointed to the cribs filled with robust, healthy babies and said, “my dear Colleagues, these, the ones that come out perfectly when statistically so many things could go wrong, these are the miracles.”

In this week’s parsha, Ya’akov gives each of his sons a beracha (blessing). We emulate him every single Friday night in one of the most moving and precious customs that we have, that unfortunately goes so widely unappreciated. We place our hands on the heads of our children and while we bless them we are to realize that they are in fact a blessing to us.

I came home from that private, informal burial and I couldn’t help but hug each of my children a little tighter. I implore you to never take for granted, not for one moment, how fortunate you are if for you everything went right and you are the parent of a healthy child.

Learn from Yaakov, pay attention when you bless your kids on Friday night and never forget how blessed you truly are.