Epiphany 4, Year B 2024: Mark 1:21-28

 In the television show Doctor Who, there are villains called Carrionites. For anyone who’s seen Doctor Who, it’s the Shakespeare episode. They seem like witches, but in Doctor Who the answer is never magic - it’s always science, and a science that is different or more advanced than what we have on earth, so the Carrionites are simply aliens who harness the power of words, using the right words in the right places to gain control over their foes. Carrionites placed great importance on knowing the name of an individual to give them personal, one-on-one power. Once The Doctor figures out with whom he’s dealing, he says, “I name you Carrionites!” At which they are repelled for a bit.

In reality, the belief in the power of a name is certainly not a more advanced idea. It is an ancient method of making declarations about your relation to and power relative to others. In antiquity, knowledge of someone’s name or identity was thought to provide power over that person. So, when the unclean spirit says to Jesus, “I know who you are,” it believes it has power over Jesus. But Jesus turns that thought on its head. The unclean spirit attempts to claim that naming power over Jesus, but Jesus not only silences the spirit, taking power away from it, but he exorcizes it from the man. The spirit’s plan massively backfires, and merely gives Jesus the opportunity to show that Jesus is indeed the Holy One of God, and that calling him out as such does not give the unclean spirit any power over Jesus - just the opposite.

In Scripture, and particularly in the Hebrew Bible, names are important. Translation - into any language - usually does a poor job of communicating the power of those names given to children, or the renaming of adults, especially those renamed by God. You might have read the English translation of Hebrew scripture texts such as this from the book of Ruth, “Call me no longer Naomi, call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.” This renaming has no significance in English. Why does it matter that she says to call her Mara? But in Hebrew, Naomi means pleasant and Mara means bitter. Naomi is grieving the deaths of her husband and sons. And this is poetry, as well. Naomi remains Naomi, but in the declaration of herself as Mara, as bitter, she is letting the town know what has happened to her family and how she feels about it. Names matter.

In other places in Scripture, God actively renames people, largely after divine encounters. God says to Abram, “No longer shall your name be Abram,” meaning “exalted ancestor”, “but your name shall be Abraham,” meaning “ancestor of a multitude”, “for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations.” (Genesis 17:5) Jacob, meaning “he takes by the heel” or “he supplants,” is so named because he was born with his hand gripping his twin brother’s heel. But after an encounter with God, Jacob is renamed Israel, which means “the one who strives with God.” And then jumping a few thousand years into the future, Jesus says to Simon following Simon’s declaration that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.” (Matthew 16:17-18) Peter is from the Greek petros, literally meaning “rock.” You might notice Paul, another renamed man, calling Peter Cephas, which is simply Aramaic for, you guessed it, “rock.” Names matter. And in these instances, they declare God’s power and set the scenes for what God has planned next.

Notice the sheer quantity of new names given to people in Scripture: Abram becomes Abraham, Simon becomes Peter, Saul becomes Paul. In the Episcopal Church, one way in which we acknowledge the power of and importance of having a name that is in line with who we are and who we are called to be, is through the “Service of Renaming” in the Book of Occasional Services. It begins with the words, “Blessed be the God of Sarai revealed as Sarah, Jacob who became Israel, and Simon called Peter.”  We pray to embrace those changes and support God’s plan. As we strive to move into a more inclusive and respectful age of all God’s children, when we encounter a name change, whether it be through the generations old tradition of name change through marriage, reclaiming one's identity after ending an abusive marriage, or a more recent acknowledgement of one’s personal declaration of their trans identity, we pray to be supportive and respectful for each person’s humanity and dignity. Names matter. 

In the midst of our striving, there will be innocent mistakes made. I have a friend from childhood that I still sometimes catch myself misgendering. I’m aware that a lot of it is from knowing them well before their transition and not as well since. I laugh at myself for my misstep, accept responsibility, apologize - sometimes not even to them, just to the keyboard when I’m typing a message and have to go back and retype - and correct myself. My motives are honest and kind in the midst of the mistake because I know: Names matter.

Names are one way we show how much we care about people. That’s part of why people agonize over baby names. As someone who has named two children in the last five years, I speak from experience when I say that my husband and I spent a lot of time considering different names. Thinking about who we knew that had those names and what those names traditionally meant. And that process culminated with our daughters Ruth, named after my great great aunt who embodied the biblical Ruth’s love and resilience, and Sophia, named after the Greek word for wisdom, which is radiant and unfading. God shows who God is in His naming Abraham, Israel, and Peter based on who God is and who God calls each of these people to be.

In the book Freakonomics, research is shared about what effect baby names have on the success of children as they become adults. And the results show, as with many studies about children, that it isn’t so much what the names are themselves but what the names say about the parents who chose those names. In the same way as it’s not really how many books a child has in their house that is a predictor of success, but what it says about parents who provide those books and read books to their children. It’s about intention because: Names matter. 

When I sign my full, titled name, The Rev. Claire L Elser, every part of it speaks to me. The Rev, the opportunity for me to live into the calling God has placed on my life and the recognition of the women and men who fought for and advocated for people of my gender to be able to take holy orders at all. Claire, the name lovingly chosen for me by my parents. “L”, Louise, the name held by my mother and grandmother before me and my daughter after me, binding the women in my family together through generations. And Elser, the name I gained at my marriage that symbolizes how my husband and I are no longer two but one. Everything together says so much about me, and I am privileged that I can live into every part of who I am and who I am called to be. Names matter.

What does it mean that Jesus knows your name?

What does it mean that you know Jesus’ name?

How does it give you strength?

How does it challenge you?

How does it affect how you interact with the world?

With your loved ones?

With people you don’t like?

With those who can never repay whatever you have to offer?

With those whom you can never repay?

When Jesus, the Good Shepherd who knows his sheep and calls them by name, when He calls your name, what will you say?