The Family Letter

So, what’s the big deal about names, anyway? It seems like the way we name things changes every so often in the church. If you are familiar with Rite I and Rite II, you notice that we say “Holy Ghost” at the former and “Holy Spirit” at the latter. Rite II has replaced or removed a lot of the references to “man” or “mankind” when referring to all human beings. In more recent times generic references to God as “him” are beginning to fade in favor of just “God” (you should see what happens if you use “him” or “he” for God in a seminary paper these days!).

But why does it really matter how we name things? After all, we know what it is we are talking about when we use these names, so what does it matter what we call them, right? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, would it not?

Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. The names we assign to things do more than help us identify those things. Names carry meanings and histories. Names bring images to mind, and cause associations in our memories. Like people, every name has a closet full of both treasures and skeletons. When we choose a name for something, we are doing more than labeling that something, we are defining it, giving it deeper meaning and purpose.

All this is important because names are used to describe people and things to one another. Names, improperly handled, can cause almost as much confusion as they do communication. When I hear the word “ghost” I think of something scary that comes out at Halloween, or something amusing like “Casper the Friendly Ghost.” Those are the associations attached to the name “ghost” for me. So when we pray to the “Father, Son, and Holy Ghost” I am forming different images than the person who originally used that phrase. “Spirit” conveys much more meaning to me, and some of the newer names for the Trinity (see below) carry even more meaning.

A glance back at last month’s “Curate Corner” reveals another example. I mentioned that the priest at the altar during the Eucharist is named the “celebrant” in our Book of Common Prayer. Since he or she is the only person so named, it logically follows that he or she is the only person celebrating, right? And yet we all come to church to celebrate together each week—not just the priest! But by naming that person the “celebrant” we imply that this is not the case. Over time, I would argue, the church has begun to regard that person as the one responsible for celebrating on behalf of the congregation, taking a lot of the joy out of our worship. That is why I, and many others in the church, are using the term “presider” to name the priest at the altar each week. The priest certainly presides, or leads, in worship every week, but is not the only one celebrating.

Last month I came across another real-world example of how names can be dangerous. A friend was reading a book about alternative images for God. Her son, listening in, declared that he knew of one name or image that would never work for God. “You could never call God mother,” he exclaimed. “God’s a boy!” While this may seem cute and make us smile, let’s look a little more deeply. This young man sincerely believes that God is male. If you believe that we are all created in the image of God, does that mean that really the male is the more perfect image of God? That the women among us are not made quite as much in the image of God as the men? For that young man to believe that he is made in the image of God and his sister is not is a serious thing.

It can be easy to write this off as innocent: After all, we need to pick some pronoun for God, and the default in English has always been “he”, so there’s nothing really meant by using “he” for God. But “he” is, like all other names (and images) loaded with meaning and histories that we may not at first realize. For that young man, naming something “he” means that the something in question is male. For others, the image of “father” conjures up memories not of a loving, caring, providing male, but an abusive, hateful, or just plain absent person. We do not all remember “father” the same way. God, too, is often assigned characteristics that our culture tends to think of as more motherly than fatherly. So perhaps a sharing of names, where both “he” and “she” are equally used is more appropriate. After all, does not God transcend gender, being neither male nor female, but something both and yet greater?

The total use of “she” or “mother” to describe God would be just as bad, and I am not advocating that we switch. I also do not agree with many of the new names and images being put forth both in liturgy and theology, as some can be just as confusing or harmful. I do, however, urge us to keep an open mind and to think more deeply. Do not just use a name, question it! Think on it! What does it mean for you? What might it mean to someone else? Is the person you are using the name for like that name? Does the name truly describe the thing or person you are naming? How might someone else hear or understand the names you use? How might the names you use cause confusion, or turn someone off to something you are hoping to get them excited about? And so on.

Do not hesitate to try out some new names. There are certainly instances where “mother” is just as appropriate as “father” when speaking of God. The Bible even uses the feminine pronoun when speaking of God as Wisdom. Thinking of the Trinity as “Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer” certainly gives new life to “The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit”—it not only names the three persons but also describes them and their particular roles in the ongoing history of the church. When we expand the way we name things we gain in wisdom and understanding. If we do it carefully and prayerfully, we also have little to lose in the process.