Name Renewed

Text: Jeremiah 33:14-16 December 3, 2006

What is your name?

In the Commonwealth of Massachusetts your name is what you are known by. If you decide to change your name from Fred to Ferdinand you just tell everyone you meet that your name is Ferdinand. And it is. No need to go to court or post listing in the paper or anything like that. According to the law, your name is not unchangeable and inherent, but depends on your actions (telling and using your name) and on your choices. It says something about you, or can.

Historically, names tell about relationships. With your family, for example. So Ericson is son of Eric, Petrova is the daughter of Peter. Or your relationship with your job. So Cooper is a barrel maker, and Stein (meaning stone) is a stone cutter, and Smith is a blacksmith. Or your relationship with your town or place. So the Jesus we follow is Jesus of Nazareth; or more modernly: Kierkegaard, the family that lived by the church, the kierke; or Jack London, from London.

In the time in which Jeremiah prophesied, the people of Israel had become confused about their name, the name of their nation and people. Not the name itself, really, but the significance of it. Not what they were called, but what they were called in the eyes of God and the nations. Their name had been given to them centuries ago by God after Jacob wrestled with an angel. But now, it seems that their relationship was heading for divorce. Having been exiled from Judah, having the Temple—the house for God—destroyed, what did they mean to God, and what did God mean to them? Were they a people of the land? Or of a system of beliefs? Or adherents to some special code? Or nothing special?

In the passage we just heard, Jeremiah tells the people that in the hopes of God the day is soon coming when they will know again who they are. A leader will spring up, says the Lord, who will be just and righteous. And Jerusalem will have a new name: The Lord is our righteousness.

This is kind of a strange name. A little long, but nice. Where do you come from? I come from the place named “The Lord is our righteousness.” That is the name of my community. That is the name of my home. That is the name of my people. It tells us something, like the names of old, Richardson whose dad was Richard, or the Fishers who worked on the sea. It tells us something important about them and about their relationships. It tells us something about how the holder of this name relates to God.

The name “the Lord is our righteousness” means two things. First, it means that when we are looking for righteousness—that is, when we are trying to find out how to live in the best way possible—we look to God, we turn to God. So the name tells us something about ourselves. It tells us on whom we depend. And second, it also means that when we are trying to figure out what God is like and what God intends for and with us, that we know that God is righteous. So the name tells us something about God.

Righteousness does not mean morally blameless (as it is mostly used now). It means truthful, ethical, fair, things in line with what God hoped for when God created the gift of the world and life, the way things were designed to be in the imagination of God. A righteous world is not one in which everyone walks around telling everyone how good they are, being righteous and all, or how good everyone else, probably not righteous, should be. It is a world in which widows and orphans—code words for people who are poor, oppressed, have a hard time functioning or coping—in which the disposed are cared for by those in possession, in which those without power are protected by those in power, in which the strong are peacemakers.

Perhaps “the Lord is our righteousness” would be a good name for us, the world in our time, our culture, ourselves, you and me. We too are confused about our name. All sorts of forces surround us, just as in the time of Jeremiah. And in the time of Jesus that Luke writes about. What shall we be known by? Shall we be known as powerful and rich? Generous and courageous? Self-indulgent? self-sacrificing? What shall we be known by? What name will we choose that tells people to whom we turn? And what name will we choose that tells people what is important about the God we follow?

The rite of baptism that we just celebrated is full of names. We are the devil-renouncers. We are the ignorers of empty promises. We are the redeemed ex-slaves. We are the people freed from the power of sin and death. We are the people who praise God in thanksgiving for the gifts of life. That is who we are.

In baptism we get a new identity. We become known as a Christian. Once people’s first names were known as “Christian” names. Meaning that in baptism one receives a new name to go with the new life. We say that we become members of the body of Christ. We are bearers of a light that shines unmistakably before others.

Advent is a time of repentance, a word that means turning. Turning over a new leaf, in one sense. But in another, more powerful sense, means turning back to view what we have been and to consider whether we might be something else in the future. Something new. It is a good time to think about our real name. Who are we? Who are we really? What is our real name, the name that describes us perfectly in the center of ourselves?

Your name is what you are known by. What name shall that be?