August 31, 2008 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

A God Named . . .

John W. Vest
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 8
Exodus 3:1–15

“This is my name forever,
and this is my title for all generations.”

Exodus 3:15 (NRSV)

Clearly the name of God is not meant to be a mere identifying. Such was not the main function of names in the ancient Near East. Rather the name is intended to connote character and nature, the totality of the intricate, interwoven, manifold forces that make up the whole personality of the bearer of the name. In the present case, therefore, God’s reply to Moses means that the Tetragrammaton expresses the quality of Being. However, it is not Being as opposed to nonbeing, but Being as an abstract, philosophical notion, but Being in the sense of the reality of God’s active, dynamic Presence.

Nahum M. Sarna
Exploring Exodus

I don’t know if the story is true, but one time my parents told me that my father wanted to name me Willie, after Willie Nelson. My mother was less than thrilled with the idea, and a compromise was reached by naming me John William after my great-grandfather.

I’ve often wondered how my life would have been different had I gone by Willie instead of John. Or even if I had gone by Bill. like my great-grandfather did. Would I be the same person I am today? Would I think about myself in the same way? Would others think of me differently? Would my life have followed the same path if I were Willie or Bill?

As one of the most basic elements of our self and public identities, names are very important. In addition to our physical appearance, our names are typically the first thing others know about us. Consciously or subconsciously, names evoke associations and reactions. Our names become our primary identifiers. Names matter.

My wife, Anna, and I are beginning to understand the burden and responsibility of choosing a name for a new child. This summer we’ve been slowly rolling out the news that we are expecting our first child this winter. At five and a half months, Anna’s showing pretty well now, so it’s not exactly a slow rollout anymore.

Of all the new experiences we’ve been having, the aspect of impending parenthood that has probably consumed the greatest amount of our time is thinking about names. Earlier this month we found out that we will be having a boy, which narrowed down the field considerably. But we had much more agreement about girl names than boy names, so things aren’t really all that much easier. (People are, of course, always willing to offer suggestions, and I’m sure that putting it out there to hundreds of people today will only solicit more!)

We fret about this, of course, because we want to make sure that we give our son a good starting point from which to build his life. We worry about his health and other things as well, but so much of that is determined by genetics and things beyond our control. But his name is the first thing we have complete control of—probably the only thing we’ll ever have much control over.

His name will be especially important once he begins to interact with other children. We all remember kids from school that had unfortunate names. I’ll refrain from giving examples to protect the innocent who may happen upon this sermon on the Internet, but you know what I mean. No one wants to inflict that kind of torment upon a child, which makes it all the more incredible when it actually happens.

Names matter. Perhaps you’re familiar with the classic Johnny Cash ballad, “A Boy Named Sue.” It tells the humorous story of a man whose father names his son Sue before running out on his family. The boy named Sue grows up with predictable challenges, being made fun of and getting in fights. As he says in the song, “Life ain’t easy for a boy named ‘Sue.’”

Having endured such difficulties, the boy named Sue becomes a hardened and mean man, consumed with hatred for his absent father and determined to find him and exact his revenge. When he finally finds his father, the balladeer punctuates the moment with a line that always makes me smile: “My name is Sue! How do you do? Now you’re gonna die!”

After a hard fight that ends with guns drawn, the man’s father tells his son that he gave him the name Sue because he knew he wouldn’t be around to raise him and help him become tough. Ironically, giving him a girl’s name would ensure that he became the kind of manly man valorized in such songs. Faced with this revelation, the boy named Sue forgives his father, and they are reconciled, though he vows to name any future sons of his own “Bill or George or anything but Sue.”

Names matter.

This is especially true in the Bible and the ancient Near Eastern context from which it comes. In the Bible, names are more than mere labels or identifiers. Biblical names reveal something of the nature or character of the person bearing the name. For example, the name of the original ancestral patriarch, Abraham, means “exalted father.” The name of his son, Isaac, refers to the laughter of his aged mother Sarah upon the news of his conception. The name of Isaac’s son Jacob means “heel,” which reflects both the story of his birth and his nature as a trickster. His name is eventually changed to Israel, which means “struggles with God,” a name fitting for both him and the biblical people that followed in his footsteps. Years later, one of these children of Israel, Jesus of Nazareth, also has a name rich with meaning. His Jewish name, Joshua, means “God saves.”

In the Bible, names matter. They reveal something of the nature or character of the bearer of the name. As much as this was true for the human figures of the biblical story, so it was also true for God. When we talk about God, we use the common English word for deity—god—and simply capitalize the G to indicate that we are talking about the God. But in the Bible, God has a personal name, like John or Willie or Sue. And this name reveals to us something of God’s nature and God’s character.

Today’s scripture lesson from the book of Exodus is at the same time the story of the call of Moses and the story of God’s self-revelation to Moses and, through Moses, to Israel and, through Israel, to us.

This story begins with Moses tending the flocks of his father-in-law, out in the desert wilderness of Midian. Involved in the death of an Egyptian after discovering his true identity as an Israelite, Moses has fled his suffering people and their slavery in Egypt, living as a self-imposed exile in Midian.

It is there that he meets the God of Israel, the God of his ancestors. This God calls Moses to return to Egypt and participate in the liberation of God’s people, who have been enslaved to Egypt for hundreds of years.

But Moses is timid, unsure of himself and unsure of this call. He wonders why he should be the one chosen, why he should be the one to lead his people to freedom.

And though he is completely captivated by the divine presence, he is also hesitant about this God that calls to him from the midst of a burning bush that is not consumed. “Who are you?” Moses asks.

To this, Moses receives two important answers. First, he hears that this is the God of his ancestors, the God of Abraham and Sarah, the God of Isaac and Rebekah, the God of Jacob and Leah and Rachel. This is the God of his people. This God has a history; this is a God of history. This is a God who meets people in history, a God who connects people to history. Through God, Moses fully becomes a part of his own history, the history of Israel, the history of the people of God.

More specifically, Moses hears another answer about who this God is. This is a God who enters history. This is a God who hears the cries of suffering people, who comes down into the world and acts on their behalf. This God cares about the abused and the afflicted. This God cares about those in need. This God cares about those who are oppressed. Most importantly, this God promises to save them. And this God will call people, like Moses, to participate in that salvation.

I think we can recognize that we, too, have received such a revelation of who God is. Here in this place, and in Sunday School rooms and youth gatherings and adult education classes, we are introduced to the God of history and are invited to take our place as part of that history. We learn the stories of women and men that have gone before us, exploring this covenantal relationship with God and with each other that defines who we are and who we are called to be. We come to realize that our own stories have a place here too and that God is present in them as well.

And here in this place we hear prophetic words reminding us that God cares about the world and is especially concerned about the poor and the oppressed, the suffering and the abused, the lonely and the abandoned. And we hear God calling us to participate in their liberation.

Here in this place we are given tools to study our history and listen for God’s call in the midst of it. On this day when our nation stands at a crossroads and is faced with historic choices, we listen for God’s voice. On this day when a terrible storm threatens to undo three years of painful rebuilding, we listen for God’s voice. On this day when wars rage and people are dying across the globe, we listen for God’s voice. On this day when friends and loved ones and total strangers suffer unjustly throughout the world, we listen for God’s voice.

But this is not enough. Through all of this, God can so easily become an abstraction. God can so easily become for us nothing more than a philosophical concept—a force of history or an inspiration for justice or an attitude of love. God can become the subject of impassioned speeches and moving sermons and lofty rhetoric. God can become a screen onto which we project our best hopes and desires, as noble as they may be.

But when this happens, we lose sight of who God really is. We forget that God is not just a concept or a force or a feeling. We forget that God has a name.

Back at the burning bush, Moses tells God that all this history and all these words are good, but they won’t be enough when Moses stands before his people. “They’ll want to know your name. They’ll want to know that I really know you. Tell me your name.”

With this, Moses reminds us of something very important. The God of the Bible is not an abstraction. The God of the Bible has a personality. The God of the Bible is a personal God. The God of the Bible has a name.

In the days before God’s people claimed that there was only one God, this name distinguished the God of Israel from the gods of the other nations. In the days after that inspired insight of monotheism, this name reminds us that God is not just an idea or a concept. This God has a name, and that name matters. In the Bible, God’s name is Yahweh.

Now, simply saying that God has a name doesn’t solve the problems I’ve raised. The dangers are still there. Our story today associates the name Yahweh with the Hebrew word for the verb “to be.” Based on this, it is still possible to make God’s name itself a philosophical abstraction for a concept like “being” or “presence” or some such thing. And at the same time, attaching a particular name to God can result in exclusivism or tribalism or idolatry.

But here at the burning bush, the God named Yahweh utters a response to Moses’ question that is so beautiful and so mysterious that it avoids such pitfalls and exposes a deep truth about the nature and character of God.

“Tell me your name,” says Moses.

And the God named Yahweh responds in Hebrew, “ehyeh-asher-ehyeh.” We struggle to render this into English and fumble with attempts like “I am who I am” or “I will be what I will be.”

ehyeh-asher-ehye, a name that ancient rabbis compared to the sound of breathing itself.

ehyeh-asher-ehyeh, an answer that is no answer, a name that is no name, a name that is every name.

ehyeh-asher-ehyeh; God is not an abstraction, yet God cannot be contained; God is known, yet God cannot be defined.

ehyeh-asher-ehyeh. It’s not a boy’s name or a girl’s name. It’s a name like no other.

ehyeh-asher-ehyeh.

Mainline churches like ours are good at lots of things. We know God’s history and the history of God’s people. We know that God enters history and acts to save those who suffer. We know that God calls us to participate in this work of salvation.

But this morning Moses tells us that this is not enough. This morning Moses challenges us to go even deeper than that. Moses reminds us that God has a name—a name that matters; a name we need to learn. The God named Yahweh is not just an idea. The God named Yahweh is a God that invites us to be in relationship.

If, like Moses, we are bold enough to ask, God will speak. May we also be faithful enough to listen.

Amen.