He made of me a sharp-edged sword and concealed me in the shadow of his arm.
So many prophets in the Bible speak of their being given a name and a mission from birth that we might suppose that is the way God calls everyone. I think of Jeremiah, John the Baptist, and Jesus. There is also Samson and Samuel.
The naming of a child, like the naming of John the Baptist, is still one of the most important ceremonies for religious and secular parents. Today's reveal parties usually include the naming of the approaching infant. As soon as they know the baby's gender they can choose an appropriate name.
In our Catholic tradition, our baptismal names indicate our belonging to God. The tradition recalls the renaming of Abram and Sarai when the LORD elected them as Abraham and Sarah to be the progenitors of his Holy People. (An Adventist website recalls several biblical persons who were renamed for differing reasons.)
I understand that porpoises whistle continually to each other as they swim in a herd. Scientists believe each is identifying themself with that signature sound, though they do not respond by calling each other by their apparent names. A mother porpoise calls repeatedly so that her calves recognize her name and cling to her.
Our names place us in society. "In the desert, you can't remember your name" because an isolated person needs no name and may lose their sense of purpose and worth. Because the name is identity, we take it very seriously. If, unlike the porpoises, we speak to, and of, each other with names, it's because humans must continually recognize the existential standing of every person. Your mother knows your name, and that there's no one in the universe like you.
Citizens of a nation deeply committed to individualism struggle with the concept of identity. Some young people are told they can find their identity in isolation and apartness. They leave home, occupations, and opportunities in search of themselves. Some attempt to leave their past behind with the names they were given at birth, but they will suffer the loss until they go back and reclaim it.
We find our identity within the Lord and his Church; it's tucked in among the names our loved one call us, and the responsibilities we have as parents, catechists, lectors, ushers, Eucharistic ministers, acolytes, deacons, monks, friars, priests, bishops, and so forth. We are disciples called to sanctity. And when the day comes, the Lord will call each of us by name as he called, "Lazarus, Come out of that tomb!"
The naming of John the Baptist signalled a new age in human history. His family knew it; his parents were pleased but his kinfolk were upset. A long awaited messianic age had begun; it was accompanied by restored hope and spectacular opportunities to know the Lord of Heaven and Earth in the person, and by the name, of Jesus.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.