First Name Basis

On a typical Sunday I can look out upon the community gathered here for worship and bring to mind the name of every face I see, noting a new one or two from time to time. I know you all by name. On a typical Sunday. I do not say this to brag. I am actually not good with names. I have to work at it, over and over again. The point being that if I can manage to learn all of the names in a moderate sized congregation, just imagine what God can do. God looks upon on each and every one of us who walked through these doors this Easter morning and God knows every name. Everyone. You are recognized, welcomed, known by name here in God’s house. For whatever reason you came to church this Easter day, know that God welcomes you, individually, by name.

Names are rich and powerful things. Poets, philosophers and theologians have written much about names. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Maybe, but it wouldn’t be a rose. And if you know that that quotation is from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet you also know that, in the end, Romeo and Juliet could not escape the tragic power of their names. I often quote the author and amateur theologian Frederick Buechner. His book Wishful Thinking is a set of pithy reflections on theological words. Listen to his entry on his own name, spelled B-U-E-C-H-N-E-R.

"It is my name. It is pronounced Beekner. If somebody mispronounces it in some foolish way, I have the feeling that what’s foolish is me. If somebody forgets it, I feel that it’s I who am forgotten. There’s something about it that embarrasses me in just the same way that there’s something about me that embarrasses me. I can’t imagine myself with any other name—Held, say, or Merrill, or Hlavacek. If my name were different, I would be different. When I tell somebody my name, I have given him a hold over me that he didn’t have before. If he calls out my name, I stop, look, and listen whether I want to or not."

Our names embody who we are. Everyone has a name by which he or she is known. A name which identifies and introduces you as a person. And each of us is known by name to God. We symbolize this when we name a child or an individual during baptism. Baptism is not primarily or fundamentally a "naming ceremony." We have naming ceremonies for ships and streets. Baptism is initiation into the Body of Christ. Baptism is initiation into the community that lives as Christ in the world. But we are initiated into the Body of Christ by name. In that initiation we give God the hold over us that Buechner talks about. We give God a hold over us… we give God the power, the opportunity, to call us by name. To know us as a singular individual, as a unique person.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were nameless? It is easy to feel that way in today’s world when lost in a sea of insurance bureaucracy. It is easy to feel nameless when writing your social security number on page after page after page of your income tax return. Or when you are just one more military serial number among tens of thousands called up for active duty. When we want to dehumanize people, we strip them of their names. They say if you are raising a chicken or a sheep or a cow for food you should never name it… because once you know someone’s name you are at least on the road to knowing them.

We are never nameless in God’s house, in God’s kingdom. God knows who you are, why you’re here. God knows your particular joys and your fears. God knows your family and friends, the people who are important to you. If you want to be known, you are in the right place. Whether you come here often or not, God called you here by name and is glad you came.

God knows us by name. And we know God by name. That’s the other part of it, and it’s very important.

Remember Buechner: "When I tell somebody my name, I have given him a hold over me that he didn’t have before. If he calls it out, I stop, look, and listen whether I want to or not. In the Book of Exodus, God tells Moses that his name is Yahweh, and God hasn’t had a peaceful moment since." We know God by name, and when we call out God’s name, God stops, looks and listens to see what we want. Which is why taking God’s name in vain is, indeed, a serious offense. But it also means that we have the power, the opportunity to get to know God. Names are the coinage of relationships. Our God has a name, and we have been introduced.

And, of course, in Jesus the opportunity for relationship is even richer. Jesus has an everyday, human name, one that was common in first century Palestine. The Son of God is named Jesus. Theologians remind us that Christ is not Jesus’ last name, although we often use it that way. And, of course, calling upon Jesus H. Christ is generally frowned upon. But these don’t seem all bad to me because they are based upon the presumption that Jesus’ name is just like ours. We presume that Jesus’ name has the same form as ours… that it is like ours. And it is. And we know him by name. Names are a way of knowing one another and being known. God knows our names, and we know God’s.

Which leads me to name-dropping.

Name-dropping is only tempting because to know another person’s name implies a relationship. We name-drop because it implies a relationship. I love to tell the story about the time I met George and Laura. Yes, that George and Laura. And I really met them, introduced by mutual friends at a backyard barbeque in Washington. It was 16 or 17 years ago. Back then he was only the son of the President. And I was a seminarian from Texas studying at the Episcopal seminary in northern Virginia. An attorney friend of mine and his family had moved from Houston to D.C. when he took a job with the Security and Exchange Commission. It was their backyard. I didn’t stay long. But I did meet George and Laura over hamburgers. We’re almost best friends.

I expect all of you will leave here remembering that I dropped the names of George and Laura into today’s sermon, that I personally met the son of a President many years ago. And you’ll be strongly tempted to tell one another and me stories about times that you met famous people… to do a little name-dropping yourselves.

But before you do, please pause to remember that today you met the Son of God, Jesus, risen from the dead. Before you tell your own story about that sports star or politician, remember that just this morning Jesus spoke to you, and with deep joy Jesus welcomed you by name to this Easter celebration. Jesus. That’s a name each and every one of us is entitled to drop into any conversation we wish. You met Jesus today. And that trumps any other story. We know the risen Son of God by name. Those are the only stories we should be telling today. Jesus lives and speaks among us, making himself known. Each of us is on a first name basis with Jesus, the risen Lord! And unlike most cases where we do name-dropping, in this case, we have every right to claim familiarity, confident that Jesus indeed knows us, too, and is an on-going presence in our lives. We are on a first name basis with our God.

These are the sorts of stories we might tell: When the burdens of life became beyond my bearing, I heard the voice of Jesus say, "Come unto me and rest." When the path or purpose of my life was lost, I heard Jesus call me by name and say, "Follow me." And on that day when I was too busy even to breathe, all of a sudden I heard a bird… maybe it was a spring robin in the backyard or the great cranes returning north far overhead… and the unexpected gift of joy and wonder filled my heart and Jesus said to me, "This life, this day, that I have given you is holy." When I was alone, Jesus whispered to me by name and said, "I am with you." He is with you. These are the experiences, the stories, the conversations of our lives. We are known, known by name. And we know Jesus. And today the one whom we know, Jesus, the Son of God, is risen from the dead. Jesus Christ is risen today. Alleluia.