Peasant

Names are important. Names, what we call something, what we call each other, it carries meaning. If you refer to your children as an expletive as opposed to a term of endearment, if you’re not using their names, it matters. Much of the modern discussion around this has to do with deadnaming someone who has chosen a new name to represent themselves. And as someone with a unique name, I have a lot of thoughts, but also some theological musings to share on what is in a name.

First, let’s turn to pop culture. Specifically, Doctor Who.

In this episode (which includes at least one actor I find problematic), a baby decides that his family are called mum, not mum (dad), also not mum (the doctor), and peasants. I don’t know about you, but being called a peasant is not pleasant. That almost rhymes. How we refer to others says a lot about how we think about them. It is our inner thoughts coming out. This shows up in how we treat the other, the ostracized, the oppressed as a very telling indicator if someone has either an ignorance of why not to use a name or a bigotry. In a podcast about true crime, I learned that the name the Navajo use to refer to themselves is now considered a historic name for a group of people who no longer exist, at least to some of the Navajo. No group is a monolith and opinions do vary. What this means is that it is our responsibility to respect each other in the same way we would want to be treated. That sounds familiar. Perhaps like that one verse in Luke chapter six: 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you. How we choose to call others says more about us than about them. These are examples in which those who have power have set a standard, right or wrong, on how to refer to a person, group, or entity.

So what happens when it is the person, group, or entity that requests to be called something else? Pop culture and culture in general is full of examples of people claiming a name for themselves that represents them to the world. For Marvel fans, there is Star Lord (as opposed to other masked characters who have alter egos, not names they prefer). In Star Wars, Rey claims Skywalker over Palpatine. Bud, Not Buddy, a Newbery Medal for Excellence winner, is not a name change, but still lays claim to the idea of calling people what they want to be called. Others still, like Nicolas Cage, choose a stage name (and in his case the accusation is that he was attempting to not use his last name of Coppola to advance his career on nepotism.) And, of course, with the title of this article, there also needs to be a bit of Shakespeare in here. Surprisingly, not Romeo and Juliet, but rather, Twelfth Night. This comedy features a woman who pretends, briefly, to be someone else for her safety. There are so many reasons why someone might have a preferred name.

Next, anecdotal experience. For my entire childhood, I was Bea. Easy, peasy. I gave people an easy out on having difficulty saying my name. And when I first headed to college, I briefly tried out going by my middle name, but that experiment was dead on arrival. I defaulted to introducing myself as Beate, so there went that idea. My middle name suits me as a middle name, but does not fit with who I am in the world. I also don’t typically respond to my last name. I’m not quite Cher, I do use my last name, but most folks would not think of me first if given my last name. But Beate? People know who I am right away. For better and for worse. Now, I introduce myself as Beate and expect people to call me Beate. Nobody ever asks me if that’s my real name. They just call me that. And no, it’s not just that people respect me as a member of clergy. I was Beate from college on, long before I heard or responded to my call to ministry. For others with names that people find hard to pronounce and spell, I’ll remind us all that people’s names are often not unusual in their family, culture, or locale. Most of you can pronounce Sean, but struggle with Saoirse even though both are Irish and both have famous people with those names. Someone’s name isn’t weird or hard or deserving of a nickname just because you’ve never heard it before.

Which brings us to Scripture and by extension, the theological question that comes back to the morality of naming. Whew, that was a mouthful. And it may leave you with much to ponder. I know I’m asking myself some questions after this one. And for Scripture, we’re going to… Exodus? Moses. In some Jewish traditions Exodus is not called Exodus. It is the book of names. Have you ever noticed that Pharoah is addressed by his title, but never a name. Moses gets a name. As do Aaron and Miram. And also, the midwives who spared the lives of the Hebrew babies. But not Pharoah. He’s just some nameless, faceless, heartless tyrant that history cannot identify by anything other than his title. He wasn’t important because anyone who supported his regime or allowed for the enslavement and mistreatment of people would not get a mention by name in a book called the book of names. To hear from a Jewish scholar on this topic, you can read more here. Because names matter. How we treat those who have no power matters. Whether you welcome the stranger, set free the captive, or otherwise live out the calling of the gospels that Christ gives to us, matters. So, what’s in a name? A lot, apparently. There is a moral question in how you refer to others, whether it is a dehumanizing and demeaning name or showing them the same respect you expect (and sometimes feel entitled to) by calling someone by their chosen name. Oh, and one more thing. If you use a dehumanizing, demeaning, and demoralizing name for a group of people, especially one who has been historically oppressed, what does that say about you? Would you want to be called a slur to your face? How does it feel to be called… peasant? Not great. God calls you by name. Therefore, we can call others by the names they have chosen.