What's In A Name?
On Sunday, December 30th, 2012, I was invited to preach and lead worship at First Presbyterian Church of Lee's Summit, MO. The scripture readings for the day were Luke 2:14-21 and Philippians 2:1-13. Below is a photo taken during the sermon and an audio recording. The following text are my notes, not a word for word transcript.
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I have an admission to make: I am bad with names. If you are like me, you have that friend who never forgets a name, even the name of that one guy you all met at that one party back in 1997 and haven’t seen since. Well, whatever the opposite of people like that is, you’re looking at one. I am so aware of my tendency to forget names that I have taken to preemptively apologizing to people for the occasion in the future where, more likely than not, I will have to ask their name.
Why does this bother me so much that I force myself to repeat the name of a new acquaintance five times before I think about anything else? Because names are important. See, names are complicated things. They are often the first thing we share when we meet someone new, but they are also fiercely personal. For most children their name is one of the very first things they learn how to spell. Our names label those things that are important to us, from school papers to drivers licenses. We even use our name to signify that we agree with a legally binding document by using our signature.
For some of us, our names are based on generations of family tradition, for others names were chosen after many long conversations. But, no matter how your name was chosen, with great discernment or spontaneity, it is now inseparably linked with who you are.
This, of course, is nothing new. The act of naming has been important to humanity for thousands of years. The creation narratives of Genesis 1 and 2 first tell of God calling the world into being, naming the elements as they were made, then of Adam naming and giving identity to each living thing. Read three chapters further, in Genesis 5, and you find the first of many genealogies in scripture. Throughout the Old Testament, names are everywhere. We read about King Solomon and marvel at his riches, we read of Job and feel his pain, we read the words of the prophet Isaiah and wonder at the mixture of despair and hope. For our scriptures are not filled with cookie cutter heroes acting in an anonymous past, but with vibrant individuals whom God called by name in a specific time and place. The Bible does not just tell us that God is faithful, although it certainly does that as well, but it shows us the many times throughout our history where God has been faithful to specific people at specific times.
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.
You know the story, probably so well that you have already started filling in the rest in your head: the registration, the journey, the birth in the manger. We have seen and heard it told and retold in paegents and candle-light services; if you grew up in the church you probably have memories of being a shepherd or maji, angel or parent. But, I want to beg your indulgence and allow me to revisit with you this familiar text.
As I read from Luke 2:1-7, I want you to pay particular attention to who, and what, is named, and more importantly who goes unnamed. Listen for the word of God:
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
At the start of the narrative everyone, and everywhere, is named. We know who is in charge at the time, we meet the key players, and we know where everyone is. But then, a child, without a name and without a place.
It isn’t until verse 21, after the angel’s proclimation to the shepherds and their visit to the manger, that Luke finally names the child. The name Jesus only appears once in the narrative prior, and that is when the angel Gabriel visits Mary and tells her what she is to name her son. This might not seem strange at first, but consider that in the gospel of Luke alone the name Jesus appears well over 150 times, not surprising given that Luke is telling the story of his life and ministry, but why avoid using the name during the birth narrative? It is possible that Luke is simply highly conscious of the Jewish tradition that a child was not named until the eighth day after birth, the day when young men were circumcised. However, I think there is more here than simple religious sensitivity.
If you take a wander through Luke, which I highly encourage you to do, you will start to notice something - names matter. Now, I don’t just mean that Luke is better than I am at remembering who was there when Jesus called the tax collector out of the tree; for the record, I do know it was Zacceaus. What I mean is that when Luke tells a story, what people are called matters to the story.
For example, in many healing narratives, the individual who encounters Christ is called one thing at the beginning and another at the end. Take our friend Zacceaus; when we first meet him he is described as the chief tax-collector and someone who is quite rich. The reader of Luke would be quite justified in assuming that he is what we might call the “bad guy” in the story, certainly other rich individuals who interact with Jesus don’t tend to get portrayed in the best light. However, by the end of the encounter, Jesus is not only staying at his house, but calls Zacceaus a child of Abraham.
This pattern repeats itself over and over again, the bent-over woman is worshiping in the temple when she meets Jesus, not only is she healed, but she is now a daughter of Abraham. The paralyzed man is lowered through the roof of the house where Jesus is teaching, and he is healed and called friend.
By encountering Christ, people’s very identities are redefined. There are few name change stories as dramatic, however, as that of Paul. His experience with Christ on the road to Damascus, as told by Luke in Acts 9, not only leads to him changing his name from Saul to Paul, but helps him go from one of the leading persecutors of the early Church to one of its most widely recognized apostles. What people are called matters.
Friends, I would propose that the reason Luke waits to name Jesus isn’t merely about religious sensabilities, it is about identity. What the Messiah is called matters.
When I was in high school we had a poster in our youth group room that I always liked; it had a huge list of the many names for Jesus given in scripture: Prince of Peace, Mighty God, Wonderful Counselor, Son of God, King of Kings, and many more. It serves as a wonderful reminder of the many ways we encounter Christ. However, it serves us well to also remember the first name given to Christ in the Gospels: Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us. It is about identity. Before he is Christ the King he is Jesus, God with us.
By encountering Jesus, God with us, people’s very identities are redefined. No longer is God only aproachable in the temple by a select few people, God is with us! Now we are all able to reach out and be transformed by the one who sees past the labels of this world and calls us sons and daughters of Abraham, who calls us friend.
It is tempting to end the sermon here, on the reassurance of God’s presence with us. It is warm and fuzzy and has a great rhetorical finish. However, there is another element that I feel compelled to explore, no matter how much the debate coach in me wants to wrap it up.
As tempting as it is to look at the naming of Jesus, or any part of the Advent-Christmas-Epiphany holiday season for that matter, as an isolated insident with neat, self-contained implications for our lives, we simply cannot look past the fact that it is part of a broader narrative. We cannot look to Bethlehem without also looking to Jerusalem some three decades later. The manger and the cross are part of the same story, and the impact of each is diminished if we ignore that fact.
Emmanuel. God with us. That is certainly part of the story - God has come into our world as a little child, has taken on human form, to be God with us. But there is another part. The ancient Hebrew name Joshua, like so many when cultures collide, changed as the influence of Greek culture spread throughout Palestine and became Ἰησοῦ - Jesus. Like so many names Ἰησοῦ has a deeper meaning - He saves.
That is an amazing combination - not only is God with us, but He saves. God comes to us in the manger, and saves us through the cross. It is no wonder that Paul writes that this is the name above all names; the name at which every knee shall bend and every tongue confess.
So, as we enter the new year, ask yourself, have you allowed yourself to be changed by an encounter with Jesus? After all, no matter what names you find yourself carrying this day, he is with us, waiting to call you friend.