Dear Friends,
Tomorrow, we will gather for the funeral of a much-loved member of our parish who, I discovered after her death, had many names. Seven, to be exact. (That number does not include the many professional titles she had earned, or the familiar names used in her family.) I researched her “real” name because the name used in her obituary differed slightly from her name in our church records, which differed slightly from the name by which we knew her. Seven names? Had she been in the witness protection program, running from a felonious past? Hardly.
Each of her seven names had been lovingly conferred either by her parents or by marriage. Each name was a recognition of a particular relationship. And with the addition of each name, she marked a new chapter in her life.
On the Second Sunday in Lent, many new names are conferred, as well. Some of them complimentary. Others of them intended as a slur. What else would you call Jesus’ disgusted, “Get behind me, Satan,” tossed at Peter? (Mark 8.31-38)
The most interesting of the name changes happened to our ancestors in the faith Abram/Abraham and Sarai/Sarah. (Genesis 17.1-7,15-16) The Abraham/Sarah story consumes 13 chapters of the patriarchal narrative. It is a saga of defeat and humiliation and lying and unfaithfulness and doubt. The small portion we will read Sunday involves a mysterious name change—three of them, actually.
First, God self-identifies as “God Almighty,” in Hebrew, “El-Shaddai.” This is the first time God chooses that name, and it is the name that will be preferred in the story of the patriarchs. What does El-Shaddai mean? The etymology is unclear, but the best guess is that this new name means “God of the Mountains,” used most often in discussions of human fertility. Go figure.
Second, God adds a single letter to Abram’s name, turning it from Abram (Noble Father) to Abraham (Father of Many Nations). The third name change occurs when God adds a single letter to Sarai (Princess), naming her Sarah (Mother of Nations). The name changes signified a dramatic shift in their lives. No longer would Abram and Sarai be a wealthy but pitied childless old couple; they would be Abraham and Sarah—evidence of God’s favor, parties to a divine covenant, and progenitors of countless generations.
With the new names—for God and for humans—something new happened. Under these new names, Abraham and Sarah gathered courage to leave their familiar lives behind to trek to a land promised to them, and an enormous family previously denied them. And under God’s new name, “God of the Mountains,” God initiated an intimate relationship with Abraham and Sarah and all their descendants.
Please join us Sunday for conversation about names and name-calling and name-conferring.
Children’s Music, 9:30 a.m.
Godly Play and Godly Play+, 10 a.m.
Worship, 10 a.m.
Annual Meeting, 11 a.m.
Coffee Hour following
Ernest Hemingway is credited with writing, “Everyone has two deaths, first when they are buried in the ground, and the last time someone says their name.”
When we remember one another’s names—the legal, the familiar, the relational—we continue to live. That is why we remember our ancestors as Abraham and Sarah—names that marked a new chapter in their lives and the beginning of ours. That is why God, who is known by many names, calls us by name. To be seen and known, by each other, by history and by God, is a gift.
Tomorrow we will lay to rest a faithful saint of many names. We will name them all. And, as our service closes, in our liturgy we will add new names, “A sheep of Jesus’ fold. Lamb of Jesus’ flock. Sinner of Jesus’ redeeming.” I wonder with what name she was welcomed into the courts of heaven?
Grateful to be named your pastor,
Pastor JoAnn Post
A Word from Pastor 