January 1, 2020
15When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. 21After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.
Luke 2:15-21
Did you know that a holiday called The Holy Name of Jesus is a thing? I did not know it was a thing. It is, according to Wikipedia, mostly a Catholic thing, though John Calvin and Martin Luther both believed calling upon and glorifying Jesus’ name was an important devotional practice. I assume they don’t mean shouting, “Jesus Christ!” when you see that your child has turned her oatmeal into some sort of shampoo-facial mask combo.
But seriously, names are important. I’m sure we all remember the process of choosing our children’s names. For us, it was a combination of obsessive list-making and pure instinct. I gathered names in a note on my phone and once a week, Greg and I would comb through it and give each name a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. I deleted the rejected names from the note. As you might imagine, this was an imperfect process; Poppy made it onto the list probably a dozen or so times because I forgot we’d already rejected it.
By our baby shower at 36 weeks, we had zeroed in on Phoebe, Daisy, and Harriet as our three options. We received a daisy plant as a gift and thought Daisy was meant to be. When the plant withered and died in three days, we had no choice but to nix the name. Harriet didn’t quite feel right, but we didn’t feel like we could decide before we met her. After 30 hours of labor, two hours of pushing, a squirmy little alien on my chest, and a nurse asking us if we had a name picked out. We looked at each other, looked at this creature we somehow created, and said in unison, “Phoebe.” Phoebe was the first female deacon in the New Testament and it fit my personal criteria of being unique enough to not hit the top 100, but easily recognizable as a name. Now, almost 17 months later, I can’t picture her as anyone else. She is Phoebe; Phoebe is her. And naming her made us feel like we knew her, though we were just discovering who she was. She wasn’t “little nugget” or “baby girl” or any of the other generic things we’d been calling her, she was Phoebe: strong and spirited, loud and silly, known and loved.
I wonder how Mary felt, holding this baby in her arms that she’d carried in her body for months, calling him by his name. I wonder how Joseph felt, faced with this extraordinary surprise. I wonder how God felt.
This eighth day of Christmas is also New Year’s Day, and the first day of a brand-new decade. As fresh as a newborn baby. What do you want to name, create, and give voice to in the decade to come?