What’s in a name?
NCSU16, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Description: A metaphorical example of identity/persona.
The precocious Lisa Simpsons, quoting the famous line from Shakespeare, rhetorically asks, “would a rose by any another name smell as sweet?” Her obtuse Father, Homer, responds “Maybe if you called them Stench-Blossoms.” In classic satirical form, The Simpsons highlight the age-old tension between the nature of things and their names. Do things even have natures? How is it that both a Chihuahua and a Great Danes are dogs? Does “dogness” even exist? Or is it that we humans simply slap labels on things in an attempt to understand our world? In the end, we have the Catholic “both, and.” Indeed, we both have a human nature and our names are significant.
As adult children of divorced parents, we can be acutely aware of this tension between who we are and our name. As Catholics, we understand our ultimate identity and dignity come from being made in the image and likeness of God. Yet, what if our name is not an expression of our truest identity but a painful reminder of our fractured and divided identity? For example, what if the only thing your dad gave you was his name before he left? Wouldn’t that name then become a painful reminder of abandonment? What if your mother went back to her maiden name after the divorce? Doesn’t that create a separation between the two of you? I know of a “blended” family where the new parents kept their last name and they alternate which last name to bestow on the children they have together.
From day one it seemed like my parents were divided over my name. Well at least my first name because both of them shared the same last name before marriage. Each parent wanted me to be named after their dad. As a result, one side of the family calls me David and the other Andrew. By the time I was four, this division was complete and definitive by way of their divorce. As most children of divorce, I certainly felt divided and split in two; exemplified by my two different beds, two different sets of clothes, two different sets of toys and two different first names.
To make a long, dramatic, and grace filled story short, when I turned 18 I went to the courthouse and legally changed my last name. Like most children of divorced parents, I yearned for a family and sense of belonging. Like many adolescents with no major male role models growing up, I sought them out by joining a gang. By the time I was 18, I had been a gang member for several years. I was also essentially a homeless runaway and was expelled from high school. This was the identity that I had assumed; complete with the nickname “Crazy Drew.” This is how my friends knew me; that was how I belonged to my family of choice. However, those fast times caught up with me and I began to notice my growing anger and unhappiness. I wanted out. It just so happened that in this context I saw the relatively new movie, The Shawshank Redemption. The story of Andy Dufresne spoke to me profoundly. I saw parts of my life in the main character who was imprisoned and yearned for freedom. I too felt imprisoned by bars of my own making. I wanted liberation. I wanted a new beginning. Before I encountered Christ, I knew I wanted to change my life. I had a moral conversion before I had a religious conversion. Obviously, both were only possible with God’s grace. However, I would not recognize the Hound of Heaven for another year. In the meantime, I wanted to exemplify this new life by a new name. In the movie, Andy’s friend, nicknamed “Red,” voice echoed over the most iconic scene: “Andy Dufresne, who crawled through a river of sh*t and came out clean on the other side.” That is how I felt and that is what I wanted. What I ultimately desired was redemption, which was metaphorically depicted in that movie with the fitting title. I ultimately received the reality of redemption when I turned around and saw the Hound of Heaven right behind me. I was baptized, confirmed and received Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, for the first time during Easter Vigil of 2002.
No longer was I just symbolically new with the name of Dufresne. I no longer hung out with the people who knew me as “Crazy Drew.” In fact, I started to introduce myself as David to further distance myself that former fractured identity. What I desired would ultimately be fulfilled through Christ: A sense of belonging. A family. Strong male role models. An identity and a new name.
When we think through some of the more pivotal points in salvation history we notice the importance of names. God bestows a new name when He wants to transform someone’s identity; from Abram to Abraham, Jacob to Israel, Simon to Peter. We can also say this is true when it comes to Scriptural nicknames. I am sure the woman caught in adultery was called some pretty nasty names. Matthew almost affixes tax collector as his last name, etc., What do we notice when the Lord encounters them? He calls them “daughter,” “son,” and “friend.” He restores their identity and dignity by restoring their relationship to God. This is one of the themes in all of Sacred Scripture; The Lord will call us by a new name (see Isaiah 62, Proverbs 31, Revelation 2).
It is good to be reminded of the Catholic “both, and”: the tension between our identity and our name. This tension can be acutely felt for those of us who have a fractured or painful relationship with our name. Our name can impact our identity. It is good to be reminded of where our truest and deepest identity lies. It is good to go to the Lord in prayer and mediate upon His Scripture to hear His voice call us “friend”, “my child” and “my beloved.”
Lisa Simpson’s reference to Shakespeare highlights the primacy of our nature over our identity. A rose is still beautiful and fragrant no matter what you call it. Homer was also on to something by pointing out that nobody would want to get a dozen Stench-Blossoms for St. Valentine’s Day. While it is good to notice this tension, we do well to embrace the Catholic reality that both our name and our identity are transformed by our Redemption in Christ.
Intercessory Prayer:
St. Ignatius of Loyola, who changed your name from Íñigo to Ignatius as a way to demonstrate your new identity in Christ and your conversion, pray for us.
About the Author:
Father David Dufresne is a Catholic priest of the Diocese of Arlington. He currently serves as the parochial vicar at St. Charles Borromeo parish.
Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals:
Have you given thought to the meaning of your name and identity? If so, what does it mean to you? If not, consider doing so now.
Have you ever thought about the relationship between the name of things and their deeper nature? How can you better understand how they are both important?
Do you know why you were given the name you have? If it is a sore spot for you, how can that be redeemed and transformed?