Part II
In Part I of this essay, we explored the two more common names for Abraham’s wife, Sarai and Sarah, and the interplay between them. In this installment, we examine a third name associated with her—Iscah—and will explore how that particular name of hers fits into the story.
When the Torah introduces us to Abraham and his family, it discusses Abraham and his brother Nahor getting married. The full verse reads: “And Abram and Nahor married wives. The name of Abram’s wife is Sarai, and the name of Nahor’s wife is Milcah, daughter of Haran, who was the father of Milcah and Iscah [Yiscah in Hebrew]” (Gen. 11:29). This difficult-to-read passage introduces us to a character named Iscah, who is never again mentioned in the Bible. An ancient tradition preserved in rabbinic sources (Seder Olam Rabbah ch. 2, Megillah 14a, Sanhedrin 69b, and Targum pseudo-Jonathan to Gen. 11:29) and by Josephus (Antiquities of the Jews, Book I, Ch. 6) maintains that Iscah is none other than Sarai/Sarah!
Rabbeinu Nissim offers proof to the assertion that Iscah is the same person as Sarai/Sarah from the fact that the Torah provides the paternity of Nahor’s wife Milcah, yet does not mention the paternity of Abraham’s wife Sarai. Given that the Torah delineates the father of one brother’s wife (Nahor’s), we would have expected it to mention the father of the other brother’s wife as well (Abram’s). This difficulty can be resolved if we assume that Sarai is indeed Iscah, since the Torah states that Haran was the father of Iscah, which gives us Iscah/Sarai’s parentage.
On a more esoteric level, Baal HaTurim, Peirush HaRokeach, and Rabbeinu Efrayim bar Shimshon (to Gen. 11:29) explain that the identification of Sarah as Iscah is alluded to in the very name Sarah: using the At-Bash cipher, the name Sarah becomes Bagatz, and the gematria of Bagatz equals that of Iscah (=95).
Nonetheless, it should be noted that Ibn Ezra and Shadal (to Gen. 11:29) express skepticism regarding the identification of Iscah with Sarai.
The Talmud (Megillah 14a, Sanhedrin 69b) offers two ways of explaining why Sarai/Sarah was called Iscah: The first is that she had the ability to “gaze” (sachta) with the prophetic Holy Spirit, and the second is that all people “gazed” (sachin) upon her beauty. Both of these explanations are seemingly based on connecting Iscah to the root samech-kaf-(hey), which refers to “seeing/looking/staring/gazing” in rabbinic Hebrew. Examples of words derived from that root appear in HaBachur’s Meturgaman, as he lists declensions of this root being used by the Targumim as translations for various Hebrew terms related to “seeing” like habatah, hashkafah, tzofeh, shur, and hover. [I discussed a plethora of words for “seeing” in my essay “Seeing is Believing” (Nov. 2017), and I specifically discussed socheh as a word for “gazing” in “Welcome to Rooster City” (July 2021).]
Indeed, Dr. Alexander Kohut (in HeAruch HaShaleim) connects this root samech-kaf-(hey) to the Talmud’s exegesis on the name Iscah. He also theorizes that perhaps this root is of an Indo-European etymology, related to the German schauen (“look”) and the Sanskrit sku (and the English see).
Rabbi Avraham Abba Herczl (in Sifsei Chachamim to Megillah 14a) also seems to follow this explanation of the Talmud, although he understands that the Talmud connects the name Iscah to the root samech-kaf-lammed (from whence the histakel, “looking/staring” derives). But then, Rabbi Herczl suggests that perhaps the Talmud meant to connect Iscah with sukkah (“hut/covering/canopy”) to stress Sarai/Sarah’s extreme modesty in hiding (“covering”) her prophetic levels without showing off. He also explains that perhaps the Talmud’s second explanation of Iscah means that everybody “talked about” (sichah, with a chet) Sarai/Sarah’s superlative beauty, rather than they “gazed” upon it.
Rashi (to Gen. 11:29) adds that the name Iscah also relates to the word nesichah (“princess”), just like Sarah relates to serarah (as noted in Part I). Based on this, Rabbi Eliyahu Benamozegh (in Eim L’Mikra Eim L’Mesoret to Gen. 11:29) and Rabbi Yaakov Emden (Eim L’Binah there) argue that the thematic affinity between the meanings of the names Sarai and Iscah (as both relate to princeliness) points to the notion that both names were borne by the very same person. (See Rabbi Shabsai Bass’ Sifsei Chachamim who discusses why Rashi felt the need to add another explanation to the name Iscah that does not appear in the Talmud.)
Rabbi Yosef Chaim of Baghdad (Ben Yehoyada to Sanhedrin 69b and Benayahu to Megillah 14a) merges the Talmud’s two explanations by explaining when she was younger, she was called Iscah on account of her beauty, but when she matured, it became apparent that the name Iscah also alluded to her elevated spiritual status that allowed her to attain prophecy. With this in mind, he explains that the Torah refrains from calling her Iscah (save for one passage, as mentioned above) because despite the positive connotation of that name, it also somewhat implies an undue focus on beauty and external aesthetics, which contradicts the ideals of modesty and might give the reader the wrong impression of her.
I found two more explanations for how the name Iscah interacts with the name Sarai/Sarah: Rabbi Aharon Marcus (in Keset HaSofer to Gen. 11:29) writes that it is a well-attested-to phenomenon in the Ancient Near East that people would have more than one name, often going by one name in childhood and then changing their name after marriage. Accordingly, her childhood name was Iscah, but after she married Abraham, she went by Sarai; and then, Hashem eventually changed her name to Sarah when she was in her late eighties. Additionally, Rabbi Moshe Sofer (Toras Moshe to Gen. 23:5) writes that Iscah was her Aramaic name, while Sarai/Sarah was her Hebrew name.
Interestingly, the English name Jessica—which first appears in William Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice in the character of Shylock’s daughter—is generally understood by onomasts as an Anglicization of the Biblical name Iscah.
That said, Professor Grant W. Smith (from Eastern Washington University) argues that the name Jessica is actually rooted in falconry, rather than in the Biblical character in question. He presents linguistic and literary evidence that Shakespeare intended the name as a reference to “jess strings”—the straps used to tether a falcon’s legs to its master. This term “jess” comes from the Old French gesse, which itself originates from the Latin jactus, meaning “throw” or “cast,” reflecting the act of controlling a bird of prey. In the context of Shakespeare’s play, the metaphor aligns with Jessica’s situation because Jessica feels trapped under her father Shylock’s control, just like a hawk restrained by jesses might yearn for its freedom.
Furthermore, Professor Smith argues that the –ica suffix in Jessica is interpreted as a Latin nominative feminine singular ending (e.g., Judaica, Hebraica), referring to a subject or field of knowledge. In this case, it suggests “jess strings.” His proposal posits that Shakespeare, who apparently frequently referenced falconry, coined the name to symbolize Jessica’s emotional and physical desire to break free from her father’s control, a theme that would have resonated with Elizabethan audiences familiar with falconry and Latin grammar.
While Professor Smith’s falconry connection can be appreciated as an intriguing layer of Shakespearean wordplay, I maintain that the simpler explanation that Jessica stems from the Hebrew name Iscah remains valid. The transition from Yiscah to Jessica does not require deep Hebrew knowledge, as English translations of the Bible that preceded Shakespeare already rendered Yiscah as “Jescha” (Wycliffe) and “Jiſca/Jisca” (Coverdale). Since Shakespeare was familiar with such biblical translations (especially the Geneva Bible, but possibly also Coverdale’s), this evolution of the name likely influenced his choice in naming Shylock’s daughter.
Furthermore, scholars have noted that other obscure names in The Merchant of Venice also come from Genesis, suggesting that Shakespeare’s use of Biblical names in the play aligns with his broader pattern of drawing from Scripture, without the need for the falconry connection to explain Jessica’s etymology. It has been argued that the name Shylock derives from Shelach (Gen. 10:24), while the names Tuball and Chus likewise derive from other Biblical names in Genesis. If so, it is less of a stretch to argue that Jessica likewise derives from Iscah, which likewise appears in Genesis.
Once we’re talking onomastics, the name Sarah also has quite a few derivatives, including the given names: Sari, Suri, Szori, Sarolta, Zara, Serita, and Serl. Believe it or not, the English name Sadie actually began as a nickname of Sarah, undergoing the shortening and softening of the “sar” sound to “sad-,” with the addition of the “-ie” ending as a term of endearment. Likewise, the English name Sally also seems to derive from Sarah. The sound-change from “Sarah” to “Sally” likely occurred due to an English linguistic pattern whereby the letters “r” and “l” were interchanged when creating diminutives/nicknames. Famous examples of this include Harry becoming Hal, Mary becoming Molly, and Dorothy becoming Dolly. In all those cases, the r-sound was replaced with an l-sound, and the diminutive suffix “y” was appended to the name.
Several Jewish surnames also seem to be related to the name Sarah, including Shore, Sirkes, Sharlin, and Sarles. I remember back in Emek Hebrew Academy, there was a girl in my grade named Sara Sarles. Interestingly, some have argued that the Hungarian surname Soros might be related to the name Sarah, although others see it as related to the name Schorsch, which is a Germanized form of George. n
Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein is an author and freelance researcher based in Beitar Illit. He studied in Yeshiva Gedolah of Los Angeles, the Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem, and Beth Medrash Govoha of America in Lakewood, and received semichah from leading rabbis. He also holds an MA in Jewish Education from Middlesex University/London School of Jewish Studies. Rabbi Klein authored two popular books that were published by Mosaica Press, as well as countless scholarly articles published in various venues. His articles on Hebrew synonyms are commissioned by Yeshivas Ohr Somayach in Jerusalem and have appeared on their website since 2016.
