What's in a Name?

“Lord, you are in the midst of us, and we are called by your Name: Do not forsake us, O Lord our God.”

What’s in a name? The old English major in me couldn’t resist going back to the second scene of act 2 of Romeo and Juliet. Juliet has seen the conflict between her family, the Capulets, and the Montagues, the family of Romeo, with whom she has fallen in love. She asks herself this question in a poignant speech, unaware that Romeo is standing under her balcony listening to her. If you studied Romeo and Juliet in high school, or saw Franco Zeffirelli’s lovely rendering of it on film, you can probably say Juliet’s plaintive speech with me:

“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name.
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.
‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy:
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot
Nor arm nor face nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O be some other name.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.”

We might question whether we would actually dare to experience the sweetness of a rose if it were called a skunk cabbage instead. But Romeo can no sooner give up his name than Juliet can hers. For Romeo, his name, his identity as a Montague, is more than a title. Rather, his name reflects his place within a particular family, with their particular history, and especially with their history of conflict with other noble families. Sadly the play ends in tragedy, as the young lovers discover how difficult it is to shed the identities their names reflect.

What’s in a name? What’s in the name of today’s feast? If we were still using the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, today we would be celebrating the Feast of the Circumcision. Using the same gospel portion that we heard today, the day commemorated Jesus’ circumcision after his birth, and his inclusion, according to the Law of Moses, in God’s covenant with Israel. This day became the Feast of the Holy Name with the adoption of our current prayer book. However, this is not a new observance. Actually, it was popularized by a 15th century Franciscan who was looking for a way to overcome the class struggles and family rivalries in the Italian city states. In 1721 Pope Innocent XIII extended it to the whole church, though it was celebrated on other dates. The change in our current prayer book from Circumcision to Holy Name reflects our recognition that in this gospel Luke’s emphasis is on Jesus’ name, i.e., the name affirmed at his circumcision, not on the circumcision itself.

What’s in a name? If we listen closely to our Scriptures for today, the answer is “a lot.” Just as “Romeo” and “Montague” embody the history and relationships of a family and suggest how the individual man Romeo fits into that history, so too does the name that we venerate today. What kind of a name is it actually? The name given the holy child derives from the Hebrew Yehoshu’ah, Joshua in modern English. It means “God saves or delivers God’s people.” The name became Yeshu’ah in Aramaic, the language of Jesus’ earthly family, iesus, in Greek, the language of the New Testament, and finally Jesus in English. In whichever language, the name recalls the many saving acts of God, and especially God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt. We heard echoes of that history two weeks ago, in the angel’s instructions to Joseph in the gospel of Matthew: “She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Luke’s mention of the angels in today’s gospel reminds us again of that saving history – and more. We hear again what the angel Gabriel said to Mary when he announced that she was to bear a son: “And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Just as Romeo’s name proclaims his family history and identity, so for Luke and for us, Jesus’ name also makes a proclamation. Jesus’ name proclaims his place within a particular human family, i.e., as a descendant of royalty, his place within the Godhead, i.e., as God’s Son, and the hope of the Christian community to which Luke writes, for Jesus’ eventual consummation of God’s reign.

What’s in a name? We hear another answer to that question in Paul’s advice to the Christians at Philippi. Alluding to what may have been a hymn of some kind, Paul counsels the Philippians to venerate Jesus’ name. However, through the hymn Paul admonishes them that Jesus’ name also embodies the God who joined Godself inseparably to the human condition. Jesus’ name reminds us that this is a God who experienced all the limitations of human life, and especially all the worst that humans could do, even unjust execution and agonizing death. God as all-vulnerable and all-suffering, as Richard Rohr puts it. The glory and exaltation due to Jesus, the veneration of his name, comes from all that he suffered as a human person. And why has Paul taken such pains to remind the Philippians of the reason for venerating Jesus’ name? “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus:” they – and by extension we – are called to venerate Jesus by modeling our own lives on his model.

There’s yet one more promise embedded in our Scripture. In much of the Bible, God’s name is unknown or not spoken. You remember that, before the Exodus, Moses asks God for God’s name. God gives an answer that has puzzled us ever since: “I am Who I am.” The four Hebrew letters of that name were not pronounced as they were written. Pious Jews substituted another word, “Adonai,” and translated any passages with the original name as “the Lord,” not with the name revealed to Moses.

In the name of Jesus, we now have a name for God. We can be as it were on a first-name basis with God. As one preacher suggests, “The point here is not that we’re celebrating the fact that Jesus was named “Jesus” instead of, say, “Floyd” or “George.” Instead, today we celebrate the fact that God has again spoken his name to his people – and not just as a word, but as the Word made flesh. God has spoken his name to us a person.” Now we have a name for the great mystery that has made itself known to us in human form. Through that name we – all of us – are invited into deeper and greater intimacy with God.

What’s in a name? Is all this talk of Jesus’ name just interesting head-stuff, the kind of intriguing word-game that preachers like to play? Just as with Romeo, just as with us, Jesus’ name embodies an identity and a history. Jesus’ name is a kind of shorthand for who he was, who he is, and who he will be. As his followers, we dare to call ourselves by his name – Jesus and Joshua are still common names. We dare to proclaim ourselves as members of his family. We dare to pray in his name. We may even dare to use his name as part of our practice of breath prayer or centering prayer.

Today is the first day of a new civic year. As we go back into the world, into the places to which we have been called, into the places where we meet Christ in other people and other creatures, we are called remember in whose name we go, whose name we carry. We are called to acknowledge that our identity as his followers supersedes all our other identities, and that it is the most important identity that we have. We are called to imitate him in all that we do. We are called to remember that Jesus lived, died, and rose again for all us, and that we are all – each and every one of us – members of his family and therefore connected to each other. We are called to see him in everyone we meet. And we are called to open our hearts to him in deeper and deeper relationship.

What’s in a name? In the name of Jesus, all that we are, and all that we are called to be.