The New Normal

¹When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to Abram, and said to him, "I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. ²And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous." ³Then Abram fell on his face; and God said to him, ⁴"As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. ⁵No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. ⁶ I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. ⁷I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.

¹⁵God said to Abraham, "As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. ¹⁶I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her."

(Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16, NRSV)

When my mother was about 8 years old, her brother decided to change his name. Up until then, his name had been Ronald Caudell. Then he legally changed his name to Charles Francis Caudell Jr., sharing his father's name. I always knew him as Uncle Charlie, but for my mother, after 8 years of knowing him as Ronald, having to suddenly call him Charles came as something of a shock and no small annoyance. Now, at age 80, he has lived fully into his name of Charlie and Ronald is long forgotten.

I'm not sure what inspired my uncle to want to take on his father's name. Maybe he just hated the name of Ronald. Or maybe he saw something in his father that he wanted to emulate. Or maybe, being ten, it just seemed like a good idea.

Other people change their names for different reasons. In American culture, women often take on the names of their husbands at marriage, while in matriarchal cultures, the opposite occurs. The new name declares the new relationship.

Some people, like my father-in-law, try to make their name less ethnic sounding. Ever hear of Henry John Deutschendorf? Maybe you knew him as John Denver. What about Allen Stewart Konigsberg? Woody Allen. I told Ric I would take his name if he would take back his original name. But he didn't, so I'm still Laura Collins and he's still Ric Zeller, instead of us being Mr. and Mrs. Zelokawicz.

And then there are those people who only need one name: Cher, Sting, Madonna, Seal. I was wondering when U2's lead singer recently led the National Prayer Breakfast, was he tempted to use his baptismal name or was he happy to be known only as Bono?

And, of course, there are people who gain unofficial names: Tom "the Hammer" DeLay.

"What's in a name?" Juliet asked in Shakespeare's most famous tragedy. Guess she found out, huh?

Today's text tells the story of Abram and Sarai receiving new names from God. There is a strong Biblical tradition of name changing: from Jacob to Israel, from Simon to Peter, even from Jesus of Nazareth, to Jesus the Christ. Usually these new names have a special meaning. Jacob got his new name after wrestling with an angel and Israel means "he strives with God." Simon became Peter meaning "the Rock" on which the church would be founded. Jesus changed from someone from the hinterlands of Nazareth to God's anointed one.

Interestingly, the name changes from Abram to Abraham and Sarai to Sarah are simply dialectical changes with no change in meaning. Both names have royal connotations: Abram means "exalted father" and Abraham "Father of many" while both Sarai and Sarah mean "princess."

But surely the change is significant. It means something. What did it mean for them and why does it matter to us?

In the Bible story, God very solemnly and formally proclaims this change in names for both Abram and Sarai after having declared the promise of the covenant. This is not God's first proclamation of promise to Abram. Ever since calling him out of the land of Ur, God has been telling and re-telling Abram of this promise that he will have many descendants and be the father of a great nation. With the formal proclamation of the change in names, however, the promise takes on new weight. Like a king ascending the throne, Abram receives his new name as a symbol that he is now ready to undertake the full burden of the covenant.

Last year when Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger became Pope, he was required to take on a new name that carried the weight of the new position he assumed. As Pope, he held not only new responsibilities but a new spiritual stature. What he had formerly been no longer was adequate to the new task. Pope Benedict XVI emerged and Cardinal Ratzinger ceased to exist.

Being given a new name meant that God was ready for Abram and Sarai to rise to a new spiritual stature. As Abraham and Sarah, they were now full participants in the promises of God. Up until then, they knew themselves to be chosen by God and they were learning what that meant. They made some terrible mistakes along the way, but they had also taken some courageous risks in response to God's call. Now God calls them to the next step of the journey.

"Walk with me," God says. The names come with an invitation. Not only are Abraham and Sarah assured once more of God's covenant with them, but they are also assured of God's presence.

"Walk with me," God says, "and experience the blessings of my promises."

In a way, this phrase is a summary of the Christian life. God invites us on a journey where we are promised God's blessing and God's presence. The journey will require us to take risks, to follow where we are led, to make hard choices, and to live sacrificially for others, but we are promised that on this journey we will find blessing and we will experience God's presence.

We are now in the second week of Lent. Lent is a chance to recommit ourselves to this journey. Traditionally, during the 40 days of Lent we give ourselves the chance to focus more intently on our discipline as Christians. We can't be disciples if we don't have discipline. But human nature being what it is, we all fall short of the glory of God, again and again.

We depend on God's grace and mercy and forgiveness each day. We are, as we like to say, saved by grace. If we all depended on our own good intentions and personal will, none of us would ever live up to our calling to be like Christ. But, thanks be to God, it isn't up to us. Christ has already taken on our failings and weaknesses, so that we can live in a state of grace.

Paul declares in Romans, "What shall we say then? Should we continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!" Rather, Paul goes on, we are baptized into Christ that we "might walk in newness of life." (Rom. 6:1-4)

Walking in newness of life means each day making choices that keep us on the path of following Christ. Walking the walk. Loving God whole-heartedly and loving our neighbors as ourselves. Being disciplined disciples.

Lent is the time when we commit to the daily walk with new vigor, like an athlete who has gotten lazy about her training and recommits to a daily regimen of strength training and cardio workouts. We Christians begin Lent on Ash Wednesday reminded of our mortality: ashes to ashes and dust to dust. We won't live forever, Ash Wednesday tells us, so it's time to make the most of the days we've been given.

Some people give up something during Lent: a favorite food or a time-consuming activity — maybe surfing the net or watching TV. Some people add something for Lent: daily Bible readings or a focused time of prayer or a volunteer commitment to help others. Personally, one of my commitments this Lent is to fast from criticism. I can tell you that after a week and a half, I've already fallen off the wagon more than once. But I keep getting back on. Lapsing and relapsing do not mean you need to quit your program; it means you need to work harder at it.

Here's the thing about Lent: the point is not to try to prove by will-power that we can go 40 days without something and then we get to Easter and rejoice that we can start binging again. The point is to use this time to remind ourselves what it means to walk the walk. How it feels when we are focused and disciplined and more open to God's presence with us on our daily walk.

Let's say you've given up sweets for Lent. You could just be using this time as an excuse for a diet you've been meaning to start anyway. Or you could pause each time you are tempted to head for something sweet and use that time differently. You could stop and say a prayer: for yourself, that you might be closer to God or for those who don't have the luxury of daily desserts or even the ability to feed their families. And you could choose to donate the money you would be spending on sweets to an organization that helps alleviate hunger.

Now, Easter arrives and maybe you don't feel that resisting chocolate for the rest of your life is really your calling. That's fine. But the discipline of using sweets as a reminder to pause for prayer could continue. Maybe you could continue the habit of donating the amount of money you spend on desserts and snacks to help feed others.

Or take my example. Fasting from criticism during Lent certainly doesn't mean I arrive at Easter morning and say, "Whoopee! Now I can be critical again!" Obviously, my focus on my critical nature during these weeks is to help me be more kind and less critical always. The discipline of these weeks is meant to turn into a new pattern of behavior for me for the long haul. In this way, the patterns we choose during Lent become the new normal.

When Abram and Sarai received their new names, God was inviting them to step up to a new normal. "You've already been with me," God reminds them. "You've already received my promises and blessings. But now I'm asking you to really live into your part in this covenant relationship we have. I'm asking you to grow into spiritual adults. Your new name is a symbol of your new status."

When we are baptized into Christ, we are already heirs of God's promises of grace. But there comes a time in each of our lives — or more likely, several times — when we are invited to step up into spiritual maturity. To claim our responsibility in the covenant we have with God and to live up to it. Of course we'll falter and of course we'll fail. We don't need to worry about that, because God is full of mercy.

But like the athlete who recommits to training, each time Lent rolls around we have another chance to set our sights on what the new normal might be. The promise we have is that God will walk with us and give us the joy of divine presence in our lives now, serving as both coach and cheerleader. When we take the risks, we find the blessing.

God is ready to give each of us a new name. Are we ready to step up to receive it?

The foregoing sermon was preached at the United Parish of Bowie on March 12, 2006, by Rev. Laura Collins.

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