"What's in a name?" asks Shakespeare. Lots, as it turns
out. Ask Essie Mae Washington-Williams. Or should we say Essie
Mae Thurmond? We heard about her a couple of weeks ago as the
story broke that the late Senator Strom Thurmond, who rose to
national prominence on a platform of absolute racial segregation,
had, as a young man, fathered an illegitimate child with a black
maid employed by his parents.
"I am Essie Mae Washington-Williams and, at last, I feel
completely free." So said this retired schoolteacher from
California, who had just revealed the family secret. According
to subsequent reports, the Senator's "secret" was generally well
known, and through the years he maintained an open relationship
with his daughter, albeit more than somewhat distanced. How
special it would have been to her to have him publicly
acknowledge the family tie.
Can you imagine that? Cut off from family, for whatever
reason? Denied recognition of your rightful identity? Ms.
Washington-Williams told the press, "There's a great sense of
peace that has come over me in the past year. Once I decided
that I would no longer harbor such a great secret that many
others knew, I feel as though a tremendous weight has been
lifted."(1) Even in the absence of a parental acknowledgment, she
found the experience of publicly claiming her identity to be
liberating.
What brings all that to mind this morning is this story of
Jesus' baptism. As he stands in the Jordan, having just been
baptized by John, there is no doubt about God's acknowledgment of
him: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."
The family tie. For you and me, baptism is the same. Either we
as adults or as infants in our parents' arms come to the water
and are named as God's own.
Name, of course, is more than a means of identification.
When we name our children, we often select names which are the
same as those people we love and respect. We choose those names,
not simply to honor someone (although there is an element of that
in our choice). We choose names of people we admire in the hope
that our youngsters will grow up with the same virtues, the same
good qualities, as are known in that individual whose name we
have chosen. On the other side of the coin, we AVOID names for
our kids which would conjure up traits which we would NOT want
them to develop. We do not name our sons BENEDICT ARNOLD nor our
daughters JEZEBEL. We would not even name a dog JUDAS.
This week you may have seen the story out of Saudi Arabia of
the man seeking to get his son's name changed from Saddam
Hussein.(2) It seems the man named his boy 14 years ago back in
the days when the Iraqi leader was a hero in the Arab world for
adopting policies against the United States and Israel. But now
the man says the name "symbolizes pessimism, evil, mockery and
disappointment all at once." And you thought Johnny Cash's "A
Boy Named Sue" had it bad! Ha! Names are chosen to reflect
something...they are chosen to reflect CHARACTER.
My name is David Eugene Leininger. My folks told me they
chose the name David after Israel's greatest king. Their hope
for me was that, like the David of old, I would be "a man after
God's own heart." I always liked the name David. I was less
thrilled with Eugene. I foolishly mentioned that one day in high
school not thinking that I was expressing my displeasure to a
large classmate who played Tackle on our football team. His
name was Eugene - when I saw the steam begin to come from his
ears, I quickly noted that I thought it was a FINE first name,
but for a middle name, it left something to be desired. WHEW! I
found out that Eugene was chosen for me in part to honor one of
my father's seminary roommates, Eugene Osterhaven, who became a
renowned author and professor of theology in the Reformed Church
in America - I have liked it better ever since finding that out.
Names are not chosen willy-nilly but often reflect our hopes and
dreams for the potential character and abilities of our children.
Has anyone ever damaged your name? How could they? Erase a
few letters from it? Scratch through it on paper? Not much
damage. But you know it can be done. This week we have been
hearing, probably more than we want, the name Pete Rose. As you
know, Pete was one of the greatest players professional baseball
has ever known, and that would have been his enduring legacy...
except for the fact that he broke one of baseball's most
cherished rules - he bet on the games, even some of his own.
That transgression earned him a lifetime ban from the sport.
Pete Rose had a great name, one of the greatest names of all
time, but he ruined that name, and he has been living with the
consequences ever since.
The reverse is also true. Have you ever MADE A NAME FOR
YOURSELF in something? Did that mean you fashioned some new set
of letters by which to be identified? Of course not. When you
"make a name for yourself," you acquire a certain prestige. Your
NAME, good or bad, means something; it is your REPUTATION.
As you can see, a name, even in our society, MEANS a great
deal more than a way of distinguishing one person from another.
In a very real sense, we look to the name to tell us WHO a person
is: character, ability, reputation. What's in a name? A lot!
In baptism, you are named - in some traditions, for the very
first time. Baptism also sets each of us apart as a particular
kind of person - one owned by God, one called to live out the
meaning of this remarkable reality. Certainly, the unbaptized
also belong to God, but since they have had no public opportunity
to announce or celebrate that fact, they might feel no particular
motivation to act on it.
It is all too true that multiple forces constantly try to
redefine us as belonging to some other "family." Commercial
messages will attempt to convince us that we are owned by a great
economic machine whose purpose is to make us a voracious
consumer. Government will attempt in who-knows-how-many ways to
establish its ultimate claim on us. Other voices will tell us
that we belong to no one but ourselves, that individualism is the
supreme god.(3) That is why a day like today is good for us -
reinforcing the message of our baptism, reminding us that we have
been named as God's own, with everything that means. That is
vital to our walk of discipleship.
Yes, that means there is work to do, and some would rather
not hear that in the midst of a life that is too busy already. I
understand. Barbara Brown Taylor writes,
I will never forget the woman who listened to my speech
on the ministry of the laity as God's best hope for the
world and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to be that
important." Like many of those who sit beside her at
church, she hears the invitation to ministry as an
invitation to do more - to lead the every member
canvass, or cook supper for the homeless, or teach
vacation church school. Or she hears the invitation to
ministry as an invitation to be more - to be more
generous, more loving, more religious. No one has ever
introduced her to the idea that her ministry might
involve being just who she already is and doing just
what she already does, with one difference: namely,
that she understand herself to be God's [child] in and
for the world.(4)
Indeed, indeed. If you came to worship today hoping that
the preacher would whip up on you and verbally beat you into
being better and doing better, I am sorry to disappoint you - I
will be no help. My words this morning are for you who need a
reminder of your heritage and your family ties, the ties that
were announced for all the world in your baptism, just as they
were at Jesus' baptism. God says, "You are mine, you have been
named mine as the water washed over your forehead, and I love
you."
Martin Luther had a lifelong habit. Each morning, as he
arose, he would make the sign of the cross on his forehead and
say to himself, "Remember, Martin, you are baptized."
I have told you before of Fred Craddock's meeting with a
former Governor of Tennessee, Ben Hooper. Fred and his wife were
vacationing in the Smokey Mountains.(5) They had found a lovely
restaurant at a place called the Black Bear Inn. Craddock
writes:
We were seated there looking out at the mountains
when this old man, with shocking white hair, a Carl
Sandburg-looking person came over and spoke to us. He
said, "You're on vacation?"
We said, "Yes," and he just kept right on talking.
"What do you do," he asked. Well, I was thinking,
Craddock notes, that it was none of his business, but I
let out that I was a minister. Then he said, "Oh, a
minister, well I've got a story for you." He pulled
out a chair and sat down.
"Won't you have a seat," Craddock said (as if it
mattered).
He said, "I was born back here in these mountains
and when I was growing up I attend Laurel Springs
Church. My mother was not married and as you might
expect in those days, I was embarrassed about that --
at school I would hide in the weeds by a nearby river
and eat my lunch alone because the other children were
very cruel. And when I went to town with my courageous
mother I would see the way people looked at me trying
to guess who my daddy was.
"The preacher fascinated me, but at the same time
he scared me. He had a long beard, a rough-hewn face,
a deep voice, but I sure liked to hear him preach. But
I didn't think I was welcome at church so I would go
just for the sermon. And as soon as the sermon was
over, I would rush out so nobody would say, 'What's a
boy like you doing here in church.'
"One day though," the old man continued, "I was
trying to get out but some people had already got in
the aisle so I had to remain. I was waiting, getting
in a cold sweat, when all of a sudden I felt a hand on
my shoulder, and I looked out of the corner of my eye
and realized it was the face of the preacher. And I
was scared to death.
"The preacher looked at me. He didn't say a word,
he just looked at me, and then he said, 'Well boy,
you're a child of...' and he paused, and I knew he was
going to try to guess not who my mother was but who my
father was."
"The preacher said, 'You're a child of...um. Why,
you're a child of God! I see a striking resemblance,
boy!' He swatted me on the bottom and said, 'Go, claim
your inheritance.'"
And then the old man who was telling the story said to Fred
Craddock, "I was born on that day!"
What's in a name? For Ben Hooper, for Essie Mae Washington-Williams, for everyone of us, there is so much!!! Then we come
into church on a chilly Sunday and hear, "You are my Son, whom I
love; with you I am well pleased," and remember that in baptism
we are also named a child of God. That is where we find strength
for the struggle, courage for the crises, and hope for the
future. You are part of God's family, God's own child, never
alone, and nothing can separate you from that love of God in
Christ Jesus...ever.
Amen!
1. http://www.cnn.com/2003/US/12/17/thurmond.paternity
2. "Harassed 'Saddam' Seeks New Name," Reuters, 1/5/04, via internet
3. Jack Good, "Naming Names," The Christian Century, 12/27/03, p. 19
4. Barbara Brown Taylor, The Preaching Life, (Boston, MA: Cowley Publications, 1993),
pp. 25-34, Quoted in Pulpit Resource, Volume 32, No. 1, Year C, pp. 10-11
5. Fred Craddock, Craddock Stories, Mike Graves and Richard Ward, eds., (St. Louis:
Chalice Press, 2001), pp. 156-157
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