Living Up to the Name Isaiah 49:1-6, John 1:29-42, 1 Corinthians 1:1-9

You may remember the television show “Mash” that ran for 11 seasons from ’72 to ’83.
One of the features of the show was that many of the characters had nicknames.
There was Captain Benjamin Pierce, a surgeon, nicknamed “Hawkeye” by his father
after a character in the book, “Last of the Mohicans.”
There was Major Margaret Houlihan, head nurse, dubbed “Hotlips”
who seemed to take the brunt of most of the practical jokes in camp.
And there was camp clerk, Corporal Walter O’Reilly, known to his campmates as “Radar”
for his uncanny ability to hear incoming helicopters before anyone else.

In one episode, the witty but flawed Hawkeye is so affected by the stress
of caring for an unrelenting string of wounded soldiers that he starts sleepwalking.
One night, Radar finds Hawkeye shooting baskets in the compound while fast asleep.
In his sleep, Hawkeye mistakes Radar for a childhood pal
and calls him by the pal’s nickname – “Stinky.”
Radar bridles at the name and says, “Hey, be careful,
that’s the kind of nickname that could stick to a guy.”
Nicknames do sometimes stick.
Sometimes they don’t.
Sometimes you can control the nickname you get.
Sometimes you can’t.
Thinking of some of our past presidents – they’ve had some good nicknames.
Honest Abe Lincoln, Ike Eisenhower, Dutch Reagan.
Some haven’t been quite so flattering – Tricky Dick Nixon, Slick Willy Clinton.
Some of us have had to live down nicknames – My father called me “Chunky” -
and some of us have always longed to have a cool nickname.
Colin Powell once told Jay Leno he’s always wanted to be called, “Skip.”

One of the best nicknames I’ve had was given to me my senior year at Chapel Hill
when I worked as a Resident Assistant in a dorm.
The Resident Director, my supervisor, was a guy named Charlie,
and he liked to give nicknames to all the RA’s.
Charlie was the kind of guy who worked hard to say positive things about people.
He loved to engage in the art of flattery – the more outrageous, the better.
He would be talking to someone and if you walked up to join them
he’d say something like, “Jan, do you know David?
He is the coolest guy on campus.
He’s probably the smartest, funniest, most caring guy I’ve ever met.
In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t cure cancer one day
and then star in a movie about his life.”
Charlie would lay it on so thick that even the person he was talking about
would start to believe it.
And, of course, that was the point.
Charlie was a great believer in the idea that, if given the chance,
people had the capacity to live up to their billing.
If given the chance, even a runny-nosed, bleary-eyed, wild-haired college student
dressed in wrinkled jeans and a stained T-shirt
could live up to a positive image if it was projected onto him enough.
Charlie’s nickname for me was “The Gentle Giant,”
and, I’ll swear, I believe I WAS a more gentle, more thoughtful person
when I was around him, just because of that nickname.


“What’s in a name?” Romeo asks.
“That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.”
Maybe. Maybe not.

A study was just released about our capacity as human beings to fool ourselves.
Scientists at Cal Tech asked volunteers to taste five bottles of wine
individually priced from low to high but otherwise disguised.1
What the volunteers didn’t know was that there were really only three different wines
and the bottle marked $10 and the bottle marked $90 were actually the same wine.
It wasn’t even close.
The tasters all said the $90 bottle of wine was much better than the $10 wine.
In fact, brain scans done during the testing showed that the part of the brain
that identifies “value” was more highly stimulated when tasting the $90 bottle
even though the part of the brain associated with the sense of taste
showed no difference when the two bottles were sampled.
We might say that the bottle of wine nicknamed “$90” was perceived as more valuable
because it had a more positive, more highly valued label
than the bottle of wine nicknamed “$10.”

Naming is a critical endeavor.
It’s the one experience of parenthood that comes closest to playing God.
Isaiah had the benefit of a good, sturdy name;
a name that gave him the confidence that God had called him to service
even before he was born.
The name “Isaiah” means, “Salvation of the Lord”
and whether, in our passage today,
he is speaking of himself as God’s light to the nations,
or of one who is to follow him,
Isaiah clearly feels the positive power of his given name.
This makes me think about the common practice these days
of giving “naming opportunities to individuals or corporations
in exchange for large injections of cash.
Think of college football bowl games, for example.
It’s very prestigious to get to play in the Rose Bowl or the Orange Bowl –
lot’s of history and cachet.
But do you think Southern Miss and Cincinnati were really fired up
about playing in the PapaJohn’s.com Bowl?
Or Wake Forest and UConn in the Meineke Car Care Bowl?
Back in 2005 I remember hearing of an enterprising Australian couple
who offered naming rights to their unborn child for $750,000.2
The shock of this offer was mitigated somewhat by the fact
that it was limited for the first five years of the child’s life only,
AND the parents reserved the right to reject outright
any derogatory or abusive suggestions,
(though you have to wonder what a parent might put up with for $750,000.)
The good news is that no one bought the right to name the child,
not even “Katrina” or “Brownie.”

Our gospel text from John is a lesson in the power of naming.
Twice John the Baptist sees Jesus walking past
and he says to those around him, “See that fellow, that’s the Lamb of God,
who takes away the sin of the world.”
Clearly John is assuming the role of “prophet” here,
in much the same manner as Isaiah,
and he does his job well – so well, in fact,
that two of those who had been hanging on John’s every word,
leave John and follow Jesus.

These two are curious about this new fellow with the funny nickname, “Lamb of God,”
and it’s a funny picture John paints with these two following Jesus
and then nearly falling over each other when Jesus abruptly stops and turns.
“What are you LOOKING for?” Jesus says.
The two stalkers can’t come up with anything better than
“Uh…where are you staying?”
Is it amusement or exasperation we hear in Jesus’ voice.
“Come and see.”
It’s all so awkward, isn’t it?
Are they star-struck? Are they socially inept? Are they simply slow on the uptake?
The entire interchange is not much more than an exchange of names and nicknames,
“Lamb of God,” “Rabbi,” “Andrew,” “Messiah,” “Simon.”
And then, finally, when Simon comes,
smelling of fish, a streak of mud over one eye.
Jesus takes one look at him and decides, “Here’s a guy who needs a nickname.”
He takes one look at Simon and says, “From now on, I’m going to call you Stinky.”
“Hey, be careful, that’s the kind of nickname that could stick to a guy,” Simon says.
“OK, how about this…how about ROCK.”
“Rock…yeah…I like that. Rock. ROCK.”

Nicknames are powerful.
Nicknames can stick and they can define not only who you are,
but who you might become.
When you give someone a name or even a nickname
you are exercising control over that person’s future.
You are using a powerful tool to shape that person’s destiny.
That’s what Paul was doing in his letter to the church in Corinth.
He was trying his best to get them back on track,
trying his best to pick them up, dust them off, and get them refocused.
I’m going to be talking more about the Corinthian church over the next two weeks,
so I don’t want to get ahead of myself TOO much,
but let me just say one thing about the church in Corinth.
They were in turmoil.
They had so many issues to deal with from greed, to sexual misconduct,
to factional infighting - they make Presbyterians look GOOD.
They are a DIVIDED church and they’re going downhill fast.
But look at how Paul opens his letter.
Right away he gives them a name.
Right away he asserts their identity.
You are sanctified, he says.
By virtue of your relationship with Jesus Christ you are set apart.
Together with all those in every place who call on the name of Jesus Christ
YOU ARE SAINTS!
You are saints.
He sounds like my friend Charlie.
Is Paul engaging in the art of flattery here? Yes!
Is he just trying to appease the Corinthian? Butter them up? No.
He is naming them – nicknaming them, really.
You are saints. You are sanctified. You are members of the same family.
It’s not that he’s trying to gloss over their problems.
He is reminding them of who they are,
and in so doing, he is telling them who they can become

Salvation of the Lord. Lamb of God. Rabbi. Messiah. Rock. Saints.
Gentle Giant. Child of God.
Glory to God who names us as God’s own
and who gives us the power to name each other with names worth living up to.



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1 Plassman, Hilke, et. al. Marketing Actions Can Modulate Neural Representations of
Experienced Utility. Division of the Humanities and Social Sciences, California
Institute of Technology, MC 228-77, Pasadena, CA 91125.
Http://w4.stern.nyu.edu/emplibrary/jobmarket_paper_plassmann_final.pdf

2 http://www.smh.com.au/news/Breaking/Bid-to-sell-naming-rights-for-unborn-kid/
2005/02/09/1107890246108.html