Thursday of the Fourth Week of Advent
As our daughter, Anna, was moving through adolescence and into adulthood she got messages, from certain corners of her biological father’s family, that she was an introvert. In their minds, she was not one to put herself forward in any way. She was shy. Quiet. Reserved. She was the sort of “girl” who loved to have her nose in a book (Anna does love to read) but had no interest in taking a chance, stepping out, seeing what she could do.
Bill and I could not square this view with the Anna we knew. Even in her early teens, she had a fantastic sense of humor. She was (and is) so witty and knows how to mobilize her dry humor and gift for sarcasm to make family and friends laugh. Especially notable were her performances at the dinner table of various foreign accents, including Russian, British, Polish, Italian, and our personal favorite (and her unique creation) the Amish Valley Girl accent. Anna has relatives who are Amish, so this accent was a particular labor of love. And she nailed it.
But Anna went off to UD with the idea in her head that she was an introvert. Within just months, she landed a job at the front desk in the Dean’s office. There she greeted faculty, staff, and administrators; helped students connect with the appropriate assistant dean; answered the phone and directed calls to the proper recipient (one of her favorite lines when she successfully made such a phone connection: “Another seamless transfer!”) Not exactly the choice job of an introvert.
In the years since, Anna has come into her own at UD. She has embraced the smart, humorous, joy-bringing, extrovert who she is.
Like Anna, we all get hailed as this or that. Sometimes it’s our family members who name us. Other times it’s friends or teachers or bosses or the nation or our consumer culture.
In the days of Elizabeth, friends and family knew what name her son should have. Zechariah, they all said. He must be given the name of his father. In the patriarchal culture of her day, that was obvious. What mattered most about this child was that he was the son of Zechariah.
No, Elizabeth insisted. An incredible intervention by a woman of her time. He will not be named for his father. He will be named by God. He will be John.
What names have you been given? How have you been hailed in the course of your life?
Some of the names you have been given probably fit quite well. The ones that fit me are mom, soulmate, teacher, scholar, reflection-writer. But others perhaps do not fit so well. Some of the names I was given were nearly soul crushing. I’ll spare you the list.
I think today’s Gospel message invites us to interrogate the names that we have been given. Which ones are of God? Which ones are not? Which ones are even potentially soul crushing?
May we hear best the names by which God hails us. And may we live into them.
-Sue Trollinger