Called By A New Name
Sermon
Sermons on the First Readings
Series II, Cycle C
Object:
Two or three generations ago, the only women who did not take their husbands' names after marrying were movie stars and a handful of professional women. Today, many women choose to retain their maiden names, so as not to lose identity with their families of origin. Husbands and wives also combine their names. I know one person who refers to these couples as "the hyphenated families."
Some couples even become creative, combining syllables of both surnames in order to form an entirely new name. Children who are adopted take their new family's last name. Regardless of the reason for acquiring a new name, it usually implies a change in our circumstances or status.
We are also known by the names of what we do to earn a living, and where we belong. Teacher, salesperson, truck driver, coach, nurse, and guitarist are names we respond to, names that identify a particular skill, interest, calling, or talent that is ours.
Some of you may also be called Rotarian or Kiwanian. Others are in Boy and Girl Scouts, on athletic teams or golf leagues, bands or choruses, fraternities or sororities. When you are a leader within an organization, you may be called by yet another name such as chairperson, treasurer, scoutmaster, quarterback, pitcher, or concertmaster.
All the clubs and organizations we belong to were established by people to carry out worthy goals. But unlike those organizations, the church, this community of faith that we are a part of, was not instituted by human beings. It was created by the Holy Spirit to guide us in serving God's purpose here on earth.
The disciples were first called by the name "Christian" at Antioch by those who did not believe in the resurrected Christ (Acts 11:26). It began as a somewhat derogatory name for this newfangled religion that was to sweep much of the known world.
Followers of Christ in the early church referred to one another by more endearing descriptive names such as brethren, faithful, elect, saints, or believers. Today, Christians identify themselves by many names, including United Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, Lutheran, Pentecostal, or Roman Catholic.
As Moses answered his call to ministry, he had a particular interest in discussing God's own name with God. In the ancient world of Israel, to know someone's name was to know something about the center or deepest part of that person. Moses wanted to know who God was at the most intimate level.
We are synonymous with our names, in the sense that they identify who we are. People have been known to change their names precisely because they want the new beginning they hope a new name will bring. To change your own name is one thing; but having your name changed by God is quite remarkable.
God initiated name changes for several of the important forebears of our faith. Abram and Sarai become Abraham and Sarah. Then Jacob becomes Israel. Saul takes the name Paul, and Simon becomes Peter.
God promises that Abraham and Sarah will become the parents of many nations, and from them even kings will descend (Genesis 17:4-6). Their descendants are to be as numerous as the stars in the sky or the grains of sand along the seashore (Genesis 22:17). The name Abraham means "ancestor of a multitude," and Sarah means "princess," every girl's dream, since Sarah is to be the foremother of royalty. Sarah is the only woman in the Bible to have her name changed by God, a significant fact in itself that a new day is dawning.
Abraham and Sarah's grandson, Jacob, becomes "Israel," the embodiment of a nation and benevolent father of twelve tribes.
Jesus' disciple known as Simon becomes Peter, the "rock," destined to represent the solid foundation of Christian teachings. By changing their names, God is calling our attention to these individuals whom God has chosen to accomplish specific tasks and has blessed in the process.
In the Greek language, the name Paul means "small." Paul exchanged the name of Saul, the first Hebrew king, a name associated with power, to a less important Gentile name. Paul then became an evangelist to the Gentiles with a more appropriate name for his calling, a name the Greeks could easily identify with.
Mary George is named after her mother and her grandfather. She would have greatly preferred to be named Claudia, after her father, Claude. For a short while in elementary school, she convinced her close friends to call her Claudia. She was elated at the idea of being called by a new name, one of her own choosing. She even thought she looked like a "Claudia," not a "Mary George."
Claudia felt like a different person with her "new" name. It was the easiest extreme makeover imaginable. Almost overnight, she seemed to gain self-confidence and poise. Her own self-image was transformed into what she hoped to become.
Then Claudia's mother caught wind of the name change, and phoned the parents of Claudia's friends, as well as her teacher at school, instructing them to call her Mary George. Her Cinderella stint was over, and she felt like a charmaid in rags once again.
A clergy couple, pastors Mark and Johanna, were raising three teenage sons they had named Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Then, oops, they found themselves parents again of a baby daughter. The name they chose for her was Heaven, to be a daily reminder of a glorious eternal paradise. Once Heaven was well into her terrible twos, Mark remarked to his wife, "You know Johanna, I think we missed the mark with Heaven's name. It should have been Helen."
Faithful people are called upon by God to change. It has been so throughout the biblical story. From the calling of Abraham and Sarah to the conversion of Saint Paul, faithful people have had to change. And not just changed on the surface, either. In the Bible, a change of name is deeply significant. It alerts us to a radical transformation, a new identity, a change of course that is unalterable.
Almost 600 years before the birth of Christ, Babylonians defeated God's chosen people in an unholy war. The Babylonian army toppled the walls of Jerusalem and desecrated the temple. They then deported many of the Hebrew people to Babylon. The homeland, the promised land, was left desolate and forsaken.
The prophet Isaiah speaks words of hope and encouragement to the Hebrews living in Babylon. As these exiles return from Babylon, Isaiah tells the people that God will be calling Jerusalem by a new name. A new day is dawning. The names Forsaken and Desolate will no longer be valid. Jerusalem will be rebuilt in all her former glory. A celebration is in the air. The people will instead be called by new names.
Faithful people will not only have to change -- we shall have to change and be changed at the very heart of who we are. And for faithful people, that change does not happen all at once. Faithful people will be called on to change over and over.
In Annie Proulx's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Shipping News, the central character is named Quoyle. Although it is spelled with a Q-U, it is pronounced the same as a coil of rope. The author defines "quoyle" as a coil of rope, a spiral coil of only one layer that is made on a ship's deck and can be walked on. Quoyle is decidedly walked all over, as well as called by a variety of unflattering names.
Born in Brooklyn and raised in a shuffle of dreary upstate towns, Quoyle is called "failure" by his abusive father: Failure in swimming, failure in ambition, failure in sitting up straight, failure in speaking clearly, failure at everything. In adulthood, he is called distributor of vending machines, fired, car wash attendant, fired, all-night clerk in convenience store, fired, newspaper reporter, fired.
Partridge, a Christ-figure in the novel, meets the bungling Quoyle in a laundromat and makes small talk. As Quoyle frets about ink stains in his clothing, Partridge tells him how to remove the stains, and then extends to Quoyle an invitation for dinner in his home. He then suggests that Quoyle apply for a position on the newspaper staff where he himself is employed.
Quoyle suffers through the suicide of his parents, his philandering wife who sells their little girls and then dies in a fiery car crash, and losing his job once again. He, Aunt Agnis, and his daughters, move to Newfoundland, their ancestral home, and Partridge again intervenes to help him land a job at a newspaper.
Over time, Quoyle's potential emerges as he comes to terms with his abusive father, his bodily self-image, grief, and loneliness. He is transformed through relationships that extol his value as a person. Children, family relationships, and a successful career bring a new dignity and new names to Quoyle's life. His new names include beloved husband, dad, nephew, faithful friend, and managing editor.
What is your name? Now, I'm not talking about Anna, or Elizabeth, or James. I don't mean the name your friends address you by. What would you name yourself? What is your self-image? (pause) God has already chosen a name for you. God calls you Beloved. God calls you My Own. God calls you Special.
Some couples even become creative, combining syllables of both surnames in order to form an entirely new name. Children who are adopted take their new family's last name. Regardless of the reason for acquiring a new name, it usually implies a change in our circumstances or status.
We are also known by the names of what we do to earn a living, and where we belong. Teacher, salesperson, truck driver, coach, nurse, and guitarist are names we respond to, names that identify a particular skill, interest, calling, or talent that is ours.
Some of you may also be called Rotarian or Kiwanian. Others are in Boy and Girl Scouts, on athletic teams or golf leagues, bands or choruses, fraternities or sororities. When you are a leader within an organization, you may be called by yet another name such as chairperson, treasurer, scoutmaster, quarterback, pitcher, or concertmaster.
All the clubs and organizations we belong to were established by people to carry out worthy goals. But unlike those organizations, the church, this community of faith that we are a part of, was not instituted by human beings. It was created by the Holy Spirit to guide us in serving God's purpose here on earth.
The disciples were first called by the name "Christian" at Antioch by those who did not believe in the resurrected Christ (Acts 11:26). It began as a somewhat derogatory name for this newfangled religion that was to sweep much of the known world.
Followers of Christ in the early church referred to one another by more endearing descriptive names such as brethren, faithful, elect, saints, or believers. Today, Christians identify themselves by many names, including United Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, Lutheran, Pentecostal, or Roman Catholic.
As Moses answered his call to ministry, he had a particular interest in discussing God's own name with God. In the ancient world of Israel, to know someone's name was to know something about the center or deepest part of that person. Moses wanted to know who God was at the most intimate level.
We are synonymous with our names, in the sense that they identify who we are. People have been known to change their names precisely because they want the new beginning they hope a new name will bring. To change your own name is one thing; but having your name changed by God is quite remarkable.
God initiated name changes for several of the important forebears of our faith. Abram and Sarai become Abraham and Sarah. Then Jacob becomes Israel. Saul takes the name Paul, and Simon becomes Peter.
God promises that Abraham and Sarah will become the parents of many nations, and from them even kings will descend (Genesis 17:4-6). Their descendants are to be as numerous as the stars in the sky or the grains of sand along the seashore (Genesis 22:17). The name Abraham means "ancestor of a multitude," and Sarah means "princess," every girl's dream, since Sarah is to be the foremother of royalty. Sarah is the only woman in the Bible to have her name changed by God, a significant fact in itself that a new day is dawning.
Abraham and Sarah's grandson, Jacob, becomes "Israel," the embodiment of a nation and benevolent father of twelve tribes.
Jesus' disciple known as Simon becomes Peter, the "rock," destined to represent the solid foundation of Christian teachings. By changing their names, God is calling our attention to these individuals whom God has chosen to accomplish specific tasks and has blessed in the process.
In the Greek language, the name Paul means "small." Paul exchanged the name of Saul, the first Hebrew king, a name associated with power, to a less important Gentile name. Paul then became an evangelist to the Gentiles with a more appropriate name for his calling, a name the Greeks could easily identify with.
Mary George is named after her mother and her grandfather. She would have greatly preferred to be named Claudia, after her father, Claude. For a short while in elementary school, she convinced her close friends to call her Claudia. She was elated at the idea of being called by a new name, one of her own choosing. She even thought she looked like a "Claudia," not a "Mary George."
Claudia felt like a different person with her "new" name. It was the easiest extreme makeover imaginable. Almost overnight, she seemed to gain self-confidence and poise. Her own self-image was transformed into what she hoped to become.
Then Claudia's mother caught wind of the name change, and phoned the parents of Claudia's friends, as well as her teacher at school, instructing them to call her Mary George. Her Cinderella stint was over, and she felt like a charmaid in rags once again.
A clergy couple, pastors Mark and Johanna, were raising three teenage sons they had named Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Then, oops, they found themselves parents again of a baby daughter. The name they chose for her was Heaven, to be a daily reminder of a glorious eternal paradise. Once Heaven was well into her terrible twos, Mark remarked to his wife, "You know Johanna, I think we missed the mark with Heaven's name. It should have been Helen."
Faithful people are called upon by God to change. It has been so throughout the biblical story. From the calling of Abraham and Sarah to the conversion of Saint Paul, faithful people have had to change. And not just changed on the surface, either. In the Bible, a change of name is deeply significant. It alerts us to a radical transformation, a new identity, a change of course that is unalterable.
Almost 600 years before the birth of Christ, Babylonians defeated God's chosen people in an unholy war. The Babylonian army toppled the walls of Jerusalem and desecrated the temple. They then deported many of the Hebrew people to Babylon. The homeland, the promised land, was left desolate and forsaken.
The prophet Isaiah speaks words of hope and encouragement to the Hebrews living in Babylon. As these exiles return from Babylon, Isaiah tells the people that God will be calling Jerusalem by a new name. A new day is dawning. The names Forsaken and Desolate will no longer be valid. Jerusalem will be rebuilt in all her former glory. A celebration is in the air. The people will instead be called by new names.
Faithful people will not only have to change -- we shall have to change and be changed at the very heart of who we are. And for faithful people, that change does not happen all at once. Faithful people will be called on to change over and over.
In Annie Proulx's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Shipping News, the central character is named Quoyle. Although it is spelled with a Q-U, it is pronounced the same as a coil of rope. The author defines "quoyle" as a coil of rope, a spiral coil of only one layer that is made on a ship's deck and can be walked on. Quoyle is decidedly walked all over, as well as called by a variety of unflattering names.
Born in Brooklyn and raised in a shuffle of dreary upstate towns, Quoyle is called "failure" by his abusive father: Failure in swimming, failure in ambition, failure in sitting up straight, failure in speaking clearly, failure at everything. In adulthood, he is called distributor of vending machines, fired, car wash attendant, fired, all-night clerk in convenience store, fired, newspaper reporter, fired.
Partridge, a Christ-figure in the novel, meets the bungling Quoyle in a laundromat and makes small talk. As Quoyle frets about ink stains in his clothing, Partridge tells him how to remove the stains, and then extends to Quoyle an invitation for dinner in his home. He then suggests that Quoyle apply for a position on the newspaper staff where he himself is employed.
Quoyle suffers through the suicide of his parents, his philandering wife who sells their little girls and then dies in a fiery car crash, and losing his job once again. He, Aunt Agnis, and his daughters, move to Newfoundland, their ancestral home, and Partridge again intervenes to help him land a job at a newspaper.
Over time, Quoyle's potential emerges as he comes to terms with his abusive father, his bodily self-image, grief, and loneliness. He is transformed through relationships that extol his value as a person. Children, family relationships, and a successful career bring a new dignity and new names to Quoyle's life. His new names include beloved husband, dad, nephew, faithful friend, and managing editor.
What is your name? Now, I'm not talking about Anna, or Elizabeth, or James. I don't mean the name your friends address you by. What would you name yourself? What is your self-image? (pause) God has already chosen a name for you. God calls you Beloved. God calls you My Own. God calls you Special.
