What's in a Name?

Benedicamus Domino!

Well, I can't sleep and don't want to do so yet, so I thought I'd write again, and this time, the subject is names. What truly is in a name? Would a rose by any other name truly smell as sweet? Assuming that changing the name of the rose did not change its genetic structure as well, then yes, I suppose it would smell as sweet if it were called something like Stinkweed or Skunk Cabbage. However, we humans take great pride in names. Some cultures give naming a great significance, viewing the word by which one is identified as sacred. Some cultures give their children one name when they are young and a completely different name when they reach maturity. Some people change their name when they take a new religion, and people's last names often get changed when they are married.

So, why am I writing about this? Well, to speak the truth, I've had a fascination with names all my life, and there have been times when I wished to shake off the name I am legally known by, not for any really rebellious reason but merely because it seemed not to reflect the me I wanted to be. Once, I decided that I would name myself Anne, because I took Anne of Green Gables for a heroine. This was when I was nine and it never really caught on.

Then, when I was eleven, a friend and I took Les Mis names. She was Cosette, the romantic lead in the story, while I, being me, just had to be Eponine, the tragic but heroic girl in the shadows, the girl who died to save her beloved who never knew she loved him. No hearts and flowers for me then! Only blood, a broken heart and some indefinable strength, some inner heroism that went largely unnoticed by those around her. That may have seemed like a lot to think about for an eleven-year-old, but I thought about it.

Then there was my Jane phase. Jane Eyre was one of my favourite books when I was a teenager, and Jane herself stood for strength and courage, sacrificial morality, and I think she also stood for what I wanted then: a love, a partner who could love me for my wits and my nature rather than, or as well as, my looks. I never liked Catherine Earnshaw, and while something in Tess Durbeyfield appealed, she was all too tragic for me. So, friends of mine called me Jane, and one time, I think because I owned a set of Chinese harmony balls, they called me Harmony Jane! I think I still have a letter written by a friend of mine where she addressed it to: Dear Jane. It was nice!

Still, I've been left wondering why I have this fascination with renaming myself every once in a while? Once I grew up, I certainly didn't do it much, though a friend of mine and I had nicknames or other names we would call each other once, and there was a notion in Paganism of taking a sacred name, of finding a name that really stood for you and the self you wanted to become. Then, when I was a catechumen, I decided that I would take the name of a saint who meant a lot to me, but when it came time for baptism, I sort of chickened out. I mean, I had found a really neat St. Sarah to take as my namesake saint, but still, well, a part of me wished I hadn't chickened out.

Then, about two years ago, I recalled a name which I'd always loved the sound of ever since I first read it as the title of a lovely poem by Longfellow, and no, I don't mean Hyawatha! :) I mean the name Evangeline. Even the simple sound of that name evoked such a true sense of joy that I've hardly ever felt its like, but I left it alone. Who was I, a grown up woman and a Christian, to go about changing my name at the drop of a hat? Well, there was one way I could do it, and I went to spend a few months at a monastery seeing whether I truly had the will and the wherewithal to become a nun, and what I learned there was true joy unbounded!

Even amid the challenges I had there, even though I ultimately made the decision to leave, at least for a while as I thought at the time, I was sad to leave it. I was sad to leave the life I had found there, and yes, even amid all the new and wonderful joys this year of discovery has offered me, I am still a little misty-eyed at the recollections of the treasury of knowledge, compassion, dedication and wisdom I found with even a glimpse of that life.

So, I have made a decision. I intend to pursue the path of an oblate of that monastery. This basically means that I will continue to be a lay-person in the world, but that I will commit to certain monastic observances, prayers and the like, and all that sort of thing. This would not be a lifelong vow if I didn't want it to be. I could remain an oblate if I got married and such. However, I would be considered to be attached to the community of that monastery and I would be able to take some spiritual direction from there as well. I truly see no other course that makes sense, and I've discovered that this path is not so uncommon among Benedictines as I thought it was.

So, what does this have to do with names? Well, I decided that if I were given the choice, I would take the name Evangeline if I became a nun. I still intend to take it as an oblate. One can do this if one wishes. However, I don't want to wait till then. This blog is about discovering new things and living for joy, and I have discovered that my true name, my real name is Evangeline. Of course, there's nothing formal or official about this name-change, and people are free not to use it if they wish not to, but it's there.

Evangeline is a name which has to do with the Annunciation of Mary, and her response to the miraculous tidings that Gabriel brought were to allow them to come to pass by giving her "Amen" to his words. The moment she said "Alright" was the moment when the actual conception happened in a miraculous fashion, and this is how I want to be. This is how I have to learn to be if I am a Christian, even if it means confronting hard truths and acknowledging difficult-to-acknowledge things about myself. All the good deeds and prayers and fasting and memorized Bible verses will do us no good at all if we do not allow God to work as unhindered by us as possible in our lives. Of course the process of becoming less of a hindrance is a slow and lifelong one, but I wish to be the change I want to see, as Gandhi would say, and so I'm taking a name which means what I want to be and to do. I am, at least in some sense, coming to a new birth. I am learning who I am and who I should be, just as this blog and this journey toward joy was supposed to help me to do, and who I am and who I want to be is summed up in the name Evangeline. So, I claim it now for myself, and hope to have it conferred upon me as an oblate.

What's in a name? Maybe nothing really, but for me, they seem to mean a lot! Of course, my legal and baptismal name is still Sara and will be so, but well, Sara has a lot of associations that I'm trying to distance myself from, a lot of pains and sorrows that I just don't want in my life anymore. Saul became Paul on the road to Damascus. He called himself Paul because he thought of himself as the least of the Apostles. I wish to call myself Evangeline as a reminder of the path I'm on and how far I still have to travel, but also as a reminder of the wonder and awesomeness of the tidings of how Christ has conquered death and has made it so that we all can be renewed and filled with true and undimming joy, if we will but say: "I'll let You change me. I'll let You love and heal me. I'll even let You tell me that I've gone wrong, because that's what loved ones do."

I've always been afraid of that changing. I've always been afraid to really let Him work on me. I've always held something back, some small part of me. I didn't want to get "drawn in" by Him, but all these fears and hesitations are needless! He's not going to destroy the stuff that is really me! His fire will consume all the useless bits, yes, but not the me He has made, and if I ever do appear shining white in glory, it will be His glory in which I'm covered. It will be Him who makes me whole, and no one or nothing else. My soul is the bride, poor and unlovely next to Him who is its rightful Bridegroom, but He will give me a wedding garment to wear which is much better than the garment I currently have on, that fume and fret of emotions and desires which I call myself but which is merely my ego, merely a puppet which I have created in my pride and vanity. I'm finally really learning, really beginning to take my first timid steps out of the nursery. I don't believe in Christ as such. I must learn to be His follower now. I must learn to know Him.

A friend once told me that she thought that I'd take one of two paths as a Christian. She thought I'd either mellow out of my first zeal or would become a nun. Well, in typical Sara fashion (or should I say Evangeline fashion?) I have chosen neither path. Mellowing out just means to me watering things down, compromising. It's true I've found balances and such, but mellow out? God forbid! I've been entirely too mellow as it is! It's time to stop being mellow! However, this needn't mean running off to become a missionary or even becoming a nuhn. What it does mean is finally just being me, being unreservedly and unapologetically me, which has always been difficult for me. I am an inate people-pleaser. I want people to think well of me. I find rejection of any sort rather difficult to deal with, and so I often hide parts of myself away or pretend to be something I'm not, and I just can't do it anymore! It feels wrong and it's time all the pretense stopped. So, as this Lent continues and as the joyous season of Pascha enters in, I hope to bring this new birth of sorts to true fruition. I hope to continue to feel revitalized and freed, and as always, I hope to continue living for joy!

Deo Gratias!