Friar Pierre Ducharme, OFM
With the Epiphany of the Lord, an unaccomplished child is identified as Saviour of the World. This compels reflection on the very human, and normal, longing to be defined. Identity, or definition, is not, however, something to be grasped at. The search, I would argue, is happily grounded with trust in God and in whoever else rightfully defines us – rightfully giving even our names.
In the Judeo-Christian Tradition, names are never taken but always given. From Adam and Eve, to Abraham, to Peter, to Jesus, whose name was given Mary by an angel and then to the child himself. Jesus did not choose his name; such was given him. Arguably, Jesus did not choose his identity either. “Here is the lamb of God” (John 1.29), says the Baptist. “This is the Son of God” (34), John later says of Jesus. Pontius Pilate, meanwhile, called Jesus “King of the Jews” (19.19), a label of partial fact. The point is that Jesus receives his titles. He grows into what others say about him. Jesus does not define himself.
Many seek to define themselves, and this is understandable. Recalling my own childhood, adolescent and young adult years, I understand well why one would want to control the narrative, to create an identity and give it a name.
Like the youth of generations past, young people today experience name calling, which leads to bullying, which leads to identities neither chosen nor desired. As they grow older, the pressure to acquire professional title (i.e. Doctor, Lawyer, Technician, etc.) can become yet another burden. Never do secular influencers say “You are made in God’s image and likeness. Do not change a thing!” Rarely is a young person affirmed in his or her unique God-given humanness, without demand to improve.
In last year’s hit film “Barbie”, the prevailing ideological drive to become something, something superficial, is exposed. The main character, Stereotypical Barbie is contrasted with Construction Worker Barbie, Athlete Barbie, and President Barbie, amoung others. All the Barbies, except she, have secondary identities. But Stereotypical Barbie longs to break from this self-referencing rut in search for who she already is. In the end she chooses to flee plastic, and meaningless, security in favour of vulnerability. She becomes real!
The fruit of a world that puts so much on defining identity is young people desiring to change even their names. I know, personally, teenagers who are discerning such. And, within my own Religious Order, we are encountering young-adult men asking to restore a tradition that ended with Vatican II – that of the “religious name”.
Symbolizing a break from the past, including family, a religious name marked the adoption of a new and particularly religious identity to accompany the friars’ initial vows. What the young men of today may not realize is that the elder generation of friars, whose names were changed, did not take but were given such names. In many cases, faithful to tradition, their names were exclusively discerned and decided by Religious superiors in whom they trusted.
To anyone plotting a name change, I beg only that you consider the rights and honour due those who have contributed to your present identity. St. Francis of Assisi was baptized John, by his mom, but had to live with the fact that his dad changed his name to Francis. Francis’ father renamed him after the French Empire, so to downplay the boy’s Christian identity. Francis grew into that name, in his own way, and made it holy.
As for me, I was given the name Jean-Pierre, a French descriptive for a boy to be raised within an exclusively English-speaking home. Throughout my younger days I endured the many persecutions and expectations that would come with such a name. As an adult, however, I have grown to love this identity. I embrace representing both John (Jean), the apostle of love, and Peter (Pierre), the apostle of authority. I have also learned to speak French. I thank my parents, my community, and my God, for shaping who I am.
May the Epiphany of an unaccomplished child lead you also to discover, and love, the name you have been called.
