In the NAME of Love

I'm off from work at the parish this week, a welcome respite after a Holy Week full of commitments - enjoyable, spiritually nourishing commitments but time on the clock nonetheless. So, a few days at home and a few days on the road means not making powerpoints in the office, not organizing binders of music for masses, not exchanging pleasantries with parishioners and office staff, and not being mistaken for my housemate.

You see, my housemate and co-worker and dear friend Kurt looks somewhat similar to me. We're both 6'1"-ish, pretty slim, and are often wearing similar outfits (jeans with a t-shirt or hoodie/pullover). So, for some reason, that causes Irish people - despite having known us for 7+ months now - to constantly mix us up. Many of those don't even realize that they've done it.

Sometimes it grates on me - I've been here trying to serve and build a presence for over half a year, and you still don't have my name matched to my face? Are Kurt and I just a homogeneous blob of person? Those moments are undeniable, but there are also plenty of times where I just chuckle to myself. Kurt and I even decided at one point that maybe we should just change our names - he'll start going by Theobold, and I'll be known as Haywood. It's harder to mistake a Haywood for a Theobold, right?

The times when I do get called the right name are heartening, especially when it comes from someone who I recognize or know vaguely or or only met once or twice - like the time I went to shake for peace with a man who followed his wish for peace with my name or the volunteer mothers from our parish's other school who knew my name even though my housemate was their school's confirmation program coordinator or the little kids from the school I help at who shout my name from their soccer games in the grassy areas by the sidewalks. The profound effect of calling someone by name is something we have all felt at some point, whether in a foreign country where people often mixup your name or in the most common and mundane situations.

Our first names are often known also as our Christian names. These are the names with which we were baptized into the Church, the names under which our parents brought us to God and His people to join in the communion with Christ. In Isaiah 43, God tells us, "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine." Our names are how everyone knows us, including God. It is how God identifies us and calls us to Him individually, each as His son or daughter.

Yesterday, I decided to keep to my usual morning and head to Wexford town for daily mass at a town church. Amid the change-of-pace factor of joining with a different community and different dynamic, the Gospel reading struck me. Within the Easter octave, we remain in the pinnacle of Easter joy, this day - Tuesday within the Easter octave - bringing us John's account of the empty tomb and Mary Magdalene's encounter with the Risen Lord.

Mary is overwhelmed with emotion to the point of weeping and thinks Jesus is just the nearby gardener coming to tend to the land. How does she go from confusion and uncertainty to the realization that the Risen Lord is right in front of her?

"Jesus said to her, 'Mary!'
She turned and said to him in Hebrew, 'Rabbouni,' which means teacher."