St. David's United Church

St. David’s United Church
Rev. Dan Chambers
January 10, 2010

Isaiah 43:1-7
Luke 3:15-22

What’s In A Name?

I have called you by your name, you are mine…
God, to the people of Israel (Isaiah 43:1)

You are my beloved child; in you I am well pleased.
God to Jesus (Luke 3:22)

Names matter.  Hospital regulations won’t allow parents to take their new born baby home until his or her full name is registered: first, middle and last.

If you’re in the dating mode, try asking someone out if you don’t even know their name. “Oh, hi.  I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner and a movie with me, uh…what did you say your name was again?”

Likely you’ve heard of a minister or priest who has done a wedding and said the wrong name for the bride and groom.

Names matter.

If you’re a teacher, try controlling a rowdy class if you don’t know names.  It always helps to be able to say, “Roger, sit in your seat and be quiet!”  Or, “Judith, do you want to go to the principal’s office again?”  You lose your power if you don’t have their name.  You all remember the adolescent trick: a substitute would come and two audacious students switch: Bob pretends to be Harold, and Harold pretends to be Bob while their classmates snicker at the rude, inside joke.

It’s hard to be in a genuine relationship if you don’t know a person’s name.  Names matter.

Jacob knew this when he had a rough night in the desert wrestling the angel from God.  You may remember the story from Genesis.  As daybreak finally approached, the angel pleaded to be released.  Jacob demanded, “Bless me.”

“What’s your name?”  the angel asked.

“Jacob.”

“No it isn’t.  It’s Israel, for you have wrestled with God, and have won.”

Jacob, never one to lose an opportunity, boldly asked the angel, “What’s your name?” But to no avail.  The angel blessed him and vanished.

Those who encounter the living God want to know the name, because to have the name of God is to enter more fully into relationship with God.  We not only want to be named, we want to know the name of the Hidden One.

According to the scripture, no one again was so bold to ask for God’s name until the next book, Exodus, and a couple hundred years later when Moses, wanted for murder, was minding his own business one afternoon in the wild where he was tending his herd and a bush burst into flame as if it were a cigarette lighter.  You know the story.  Moses heard a voice, and the voice asked him to go to Pharaoh and demand that he release the Hebrew people from the bonds of slavery.  To show such chutzpah before the Pharaoh was essentially a death wish, so of course Moses tried to get out of it.  Like any sensible sibling he suggested his younger brother, Aaron, go instead.  Aaron could speak to Pharaoh; Aaron was much better with words and actually far more qualified.

But the voice from the FIRE would hear nothing of it.  “Go Moses.”

To which Moses essentially replied, “If I’m going to put my life on the line, I’ve got to know who sends me.  I need your calling card.  Who are you?”

I don’t know what Moses anticipated, really.  “Moses, it’s Joe.  Tell them Joe sent you.”  Or perhaps, “It’s the Holy Trinity speaking.”  Or perhaps, given the Egyptian location, he anticipated the name “Ra,” the Egyptian God of the sun.  The Hebrews themselves had no name for God directly, because God was the one whose name was not to be written or spoken.  They knew their place.

Because God stepped out of his place and asked Moses to step out of his life to become spiritual leader, Moses also needed to go where no Hebrew had successfully gone before and asked this strange FIRE, “What is your name?  Who should I tell them sent me?”

To which God replied, “I Am Who Am.”

I Am Who Am.  It’s not a very common name, but somehow the story would lack  pizzazz if the FIRE replied, “My name’s Shirley.  Tell them Shirley sent you.”

I Am Who Am.  It’s a great name to work with because it evokes a hundred questions and answers none.  It’s a name most fitting for the Great Mystery, the Ultimate Reality, the One who is far beyond the limitations of even the most brilliant minds.

So like a note being passed from row to row in class, we pass this name from generation to generation as a hint, a clue, an invitation to know the One who liberates what is enslaved in us.

The stories today suggest that this strange FIRE, this tender voice also knows our name and takes us under a blazing wing.  With six billion people on earth, it’s hard to imagine that each one of us is known by name.  Yet Jesus put it vividly: God even knows every hair on our head.  That’s intimate.

The prophet Isaiah passes on this message from God: “I have called you by your name, you are mine.”  These words must have come as an oasis in the desert to the people of Israel, a people battered by lost battles and broken by grief and defeat.  The prophet Isaiah addressed a people who were exiled, mourning by the waters of Babylon.  They had lost their home, their work, loved ones in battle.  They figured they had lost all contact with God, too.  The One whom Jacob wrestled had let them go, it seemed, and vanished up the stairway to heaven.

But to the broken heart and broken dreams of these people, Isaiah spoke of God’s tender mercy: Do not fear…I have called you by your name, you are mine. And then, like a coach giving a pep talk to a defeated team, God said, “We’ve come through hard times before, remember?  Remember how Moses brought you out of the slavery of Egypt? Remember when you escaped from the grip of Pharaoh and you passed through the sea and the waters did not consume you?  I was with you then; I’m with you now; I’ll be with you always.”

When we’re going through a hard time and all seems lost, it helps to have someone speak your name and say, “I’m on your side, no matter what.”  Especially if the Someone is the great “I Am Who Am.”

When Jesus was baptized, that voice from the burning bush spoke again.  “You are my beloved child, in whom I am well pleased.”

The baptism of Jesus is of course unique to him, illustrating his intimate relationship with God and his mission to the world.  But the words given to him on that day are for us all.  In this story, we are reminded of our true name: “Beloved.”  You are “Beloved.”

One of the things so beautiful about a baby or a very young child is their willingness to accept this truth.  They know they are beloved.  You tell them that, and they have no problem hearing it.  You tell them they’re beautiful, and their eyes light up.  They’re not wondering, “What does this person want from me?”  They’re not worried about appearing too conceited.  There’s no shame on their part.  There’s just this simple, joyful exchange of love to love; you saying “You’re beautiful,” and the baby’s uncontrived smile.

In some African American churches, congregation members are known as “brother” or “sister.”  Everyone’s a brother or sister: “Brother Emmanuel; Sister Julie; Brother Dave; Sister Sheila.”  It’s a reminder that we’re all related in the body of Christ.

Maybe instead of “brother” or “sister,” we could remember that we’re all “beloved.”  The prefix before each name is not Dr. or Rev. or Prof. or even Mr. or Ms.  The prefix before each name is “beloved”: Beloved Anne; Beloved Sandy; Beloved Cal…

It may sound awkward at first, and perhaps, in a strange way, not easy to hear.  It’s no surprise, really, that we find it difficult to hear that we are “beloved.”  We want to hear it, but we can’t quite believe it.  When life has disappointed, or when you’re keenly aware of your own failings, “beloved” seems a little extravagant.  It seems easy to call “beloved” an innocent young child who is yet untrammeled by the world.  But for those of us who have made mistakes and hurt people, for those who have been hurt by the world, “beloved” seems a little farfetched.

The waterfront city of Cape Coral, Florida, has almost 65,000 homes.

In the last three years, almost 19,000 of them have slid into foreclosure.  In just one city, almost 2,000 foreclosures occur every month.  If you’re one of the people who lost your home, how easy would it be to hear and believe that you are “beloved”?

If you are one of the parents who lost their child in the Afghan war, or if you’re a mum who’s six year old was diagnosed with cancer, “beloved” doesn’t ring true.  Cursed, maybe.  Forgotten.  Abandoned.  Maybe.  But not “beloved.”

Perhaps you’ve read the book Push, by Sapphire, or have seen the highly acclaimed movie, Precious.  The main character, Claireece, is 16 years old and obese.  She can’t read or write.  She’s teased mercilessly by classmates.  She’s regularly abused by her mother, and she’s also pregnant.  From her father.  For the second time.

When an opportunity comes for her to go to an alternative school, she jumps at the chance.  There, she meets Ms. Rain, a wonderful teacher who helps turn her life around.  At a critical moment in the film, Claireece, wails, “Nobody loves me!”

And you begin to think that perhaps she’s right.  Clearly, if anyone has reason to

feel desolate and alone, it would be Claireece.

But Ms. Rain is there to say, “Your baby loves you, Claireece.”

Then, after a pause, she adds gently, “I love you.”

In time, Claireece comes to see herself as “precious.”  The one raped and beaten by her own parents is able to go deeper still and sense her real name: Precious.  Beloved. What greater miracle than that?

Perhaps, no matter how difficult our life, no matter what we have done or left undone, we can allow that voice to speak to us in the depth of our heart: I have called you by your name…you are my Beloved.  In you I am well pleased.

And then, when we hear it, by some miracle we may begin to believe it.  And when we believe it, by the grace of God may we begin to actually see others that way: Beloved Peter.  Beloved Jan.  Street person: Beloved.  Unethical car salesman: Beloved.  Pimp, prostitute, greedy executive, bored parking lot attendant, rude teenager: Beloved child of God.  How we treat them is directly related to how we see them.

There’s our practice for the week.  Remind yourself that each person you meet is a beloved child of God.  even the tedious neighbour; even the conceited athlete; even the jerk…I mean, the person who cuts you off on the road;  Beloved.

After all.  Names matter.