I do not know its cause, but, on occasion, I hear my mother’s voice call my name. Perhaps it’s a random set of neurons going off, or something more mystical and spooky. I do not know. I know, however, that it is powerful and goes deep into my soul.
Names are like that.
There is something profound in the Biblical scene of Adam naming the animals. It is charming beyond words that we are told that God brought the animals to Adam to “see what he would name them.” What a curious image. It seems to me that the “naming” was also part of the “creating.” God spoke creation into existence. As speakers (logiki probati – rational sheep – sheep who talk) of words, we embody the image of God. There is a connection between an object and its name, a connection that has become increasingly obscure as our language becomes ever more sophisticated. We do not know what we are saying.
Naming a child is a frighteningly serious matter – to give someone a name that will become theirs for the whole of a life. There are cultures in which a person has two names: one for the public and one that is secret. That speaks of the power inherent in a name.
The Scriptures have lots of naming stories – and the names often reveal the character of a person or a place. It is deeply revelatory of Moses that, having come to the very Presence of God in the Burning Bush, his first question is, “What is your name?” Ever since, the tribes of Israel, though knowing the Name, substitute the word, “Adonai” (Lord), or “Ha Shem” (the Name) when they read or speak YHWH. The Name itself is considered too holy to be spoken.
The modern world thinks very little of names. Modern philosphies, on the whole, tell us that names are just words and have no connection to that which is named. This assumption goes far to explain how lightly we throw words around. The children’s rhyme says:
“Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”
The reality is that bones heal fairly quickly, while the pain from words can sting for a lifetime.
Something we fail to understand is the communion aspect of our names (I don’t have a better word with which to express this). Our names dwell in us and we in them. Again, I have no definitive dogmatic expression of this reality. It is, however, derived from Orthodox teaching.
In the early 20th century, there was a controversy in one of the monasteries on Mt. Athos around the teaching that “the name of God is God.” Called the Imyaslava (Имяславие) Controversy, it was a teaching condemned by the Holy Synod in Moscow. Subsequent discussion has suggested that there were misunderstandings (and poor expressions) surrounding all of this. Perhaps it will someday be re-visited.
However, the instinct expressed as “the name of God is God,” is rooted in many of the practices of the Church, including the prohibition against “using the Lord’s name in vain.” I have long thought that the originators of this teaching made a mistake in rooting it in the language of essence, instead of the language of person or hypostasis. We say that an icon is a “hypostatic representation” of the one who is pictured (cf. St. Theodore the Studite’s work On the Holy Icons).
Names matter.
We name a child with a special service in the Church (on the 8th day). We give a saint’s name to those entering the Church at whatever age. A monastic is tonsured with a new name. An icon is not considered complete until the name is written on it. Surely the name is as holy as the image itself.
We are told that in the eschaton (the end of all things) we will be given a new name (Rev. 2:17)
“He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it.”
It is of note that the service books for the Divine Liturgy direct that communion is to be given by name: “The servant of God (N.) partakes of the most Holy Body and Blood of our Lord, God, and Savior, Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins and unto life everlasting. ”
Our experience with our personal name can be problematic at times. I’ve known people who deeply welcomed a new name at their Chrismation or Baptism, as it replaced something that had been a point of brokenness. Over the years, we sometimes acquire “nick-names” that might be unhelpful. My own “naming” journey began as “Little Steve,” then to “Steve,” then to “Stephen” (when I was ordained). The “Little Steve” was driven by “Big Steve” who lived next door, who was bigger, and was an occasional bully. It is interesting to me, having been “Fr. Stephen” for most of my adult years, to encounter childhood friends who jarringly address me as “Steve.” It’s okay, but it sounds like the name of a stranger.
There is, as noted in Scripture, a name that we do not yet know, a name that awaits us, a name that “no one knows except the one who receives it.” That reality reminds me of St. John’s statement:
“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” (1Jn 3:2)
I believe that this new name already resides within us. It names the “truth of our personal existence” that is in the image of Christ. When we see Christ “as He is,” then we will see ourselves “as we truly are.” That reality is so great that it will require a new name.
Nevertheless, even the names we bear at present are sacramental in nature. We give them to one another as gifts. We give them that we may be called by them. We give them as a token and icon of the self. On the tongues and in the minds of friends, they bring joy and happy remembrance. On the tongues and in the minds of enemies, they bring fear and rage. If there is such a thing as the “evil eye,” then there is surely such a thing as the abuse of a name, and it is equally devastating.
That God accepted a human name when He took flesh of the Virgin (as the angel of the Lord spoke to Joseph in a dream, “You shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins” Matt. 1:21) is a profound condescension, as God accepts the vulnerability which all of our names share in common.
In American Southern culture, the use of the name “Jesus” as a swear word used to be unknown. Sadly, that culture is eroding, as is so much that has been of great value. Isaiah said, “I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” We should take care to break ourselves of the habit of abusing the Lord’s name.
When I graduated high school, I moved into an apartment with a friend. We were “Jesus Freaks” (part of the Jesus Movement of the late 60s and early 70s). It was a small two-bedroom apartment. One of our sweetest habits was to call out to one another various names of Jesus from our beds as we fell asleep. He is now with the Lord. But I recall those sweet minutes whenever I read the beloved Orthodox prayer of the Akathist to the Sweetest Lord Jesus, a devotion to the Holy Name.
I commend it to you. May the name of Jesus always be on our lips and in our hearts!
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