What’s in a name?
By Jacob Glassner | .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
I’m new here. And in the last few weeks I’ve met scores of people—friendly, kind people—and I really wish I could tell you some of their names. Unfortunately, I’m bad with names.
I ran into “Laura” last week for the second time after an initial introduction, and we both had to ask, “What was your name again?” I put her name in quotation marks not to protect her
identity but because I still can’t remember it.
I really should be ashamed of myself, but everyone seems to be bad with names. We even warn people we meet that we are bad with names, and yet we still forget them.
Or there’s the classic line: “I’m good with faces but horrible with names.” Everyone is good with faces. My dog is good with faces, too.
This got me wondering. If being bad with names is a human condition, and since Jesus was fully God yet fully human, was He bad with names?
I think He might have been.
Read through the Scriptures. He calls people “children” all the time, and He even refers to his own mother as “woman.” Now, even I can remember her name.
“Dude,” “buddy,” “bro”—they are all just codewords for “I can’t remember your name, but I recognize your face.” I tend to favor calling people “man.”
And then there’s the curious case of Simon Peter. Jesus didn’t forget his name, but He decided to give him a new one as soon as He met him.
“Jesus looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas’ (which, when translated, is Peter)” (John 1:42).
Peter means “rock” in Greek. Maybe Jesus was using that old trick for remembering names: word association. And Peter just happened to look rock-like, so He gave him a new name.
Before I start getting emails from theologians, I do realize the name change was symbolic.
Matthew 16:18 says, “And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.”
But really, if I had the option of changing people’s names to a descriptive term, I’d never forget them.
I’d have friends named Tall Guy, Mr. Sweater Vest, Eats All the Nachos, Dances with Wolves … wait, maybe the Native Americans were on to something.
But unless Jesus gives you a new name, or you decide to go through all the paperwork and red tape of legally changing your name, you’re stuck with the one your parents gave you.
I’m Jacob Edward Glassner.
And, no, I’m not named after either of the characters in the “Twilight” series. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence, a very unfortunate coincidence.
Actually, when I was younger, Jacob was an uncommon name. I could never find neat pencils or stickers monogrammed with my name. Now I hear my name shouted down grocery
store aisles as wayward Jacobs run from their mothers. It’s been the top baby name in the U.S. for several years running according to the Social Security Administration.
So maybe I’m due for a name change. It wouldn’t be unprecedented. God changed Jacob’s name in the Bible to Israel. But then my wife would have to go out and buy all-new
monogrammed pillowcases, and that’s just not economically viable at this juncture.
Of course, I often get called Jason for some reason, so that would solve the monogramming issue. I’m to the point where I just respond to Jason, Joseph, Jackson or whatever I’m
called. As long as the first syllable is right, that’s close enough for me.
But in all seriousness, it doesn’t really matter what your name is or who on this earth remembers it.
While being bad with names may be a human condition, there is One who knew your name long before your parents named you.
“Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name” (Isaiah 49:1b).