Often when we meet someone new, we begin with our name. We introduce ourselves or are introduced by another. We may add a title before or after, or we may not. Either way, I think that our names are an essential element in every encounter we make in our lives. Names single us out, they mark us as an individual who is known. Not only that, but our names are powerful. I’m sure we have all had the experience of being called our full names when we have done something wrong, we know immediately what is to follow shortly! But on the other hand, a couple standing before each other in their wedding ceremony will use their full names to give themselves to one another in a public act of love and fidelity.
How then can we speak of an intimate encounter? For surely you will be thinking that an intimate encounter that I may have as a friar will be very different to many of you who are reading this reflection. I think we should broaden our understanding of what we mean by intimate encounter. For me, it is when I, Matthew, am comfortable to share with others a part of me that I hold dear. It could be something that I am pleased with, or proud of, or the complete opposite. An intimate encounter for me could be a moment when I show vulnerability, when I show my human brokenness.
But the encounter begins with a name…
well, it all begins with the one who is speaking it…
We have heard recently in the resurrection narratives of the discovery of the empty tomb by Mary of Magdalene. The one I want to draw from here is in John’s gospel where Mary meets the gardener outside the empty tomb. After Mary shares her despair at the disappearance of Jesus’ body, Jesus simply says “Mary”. I think that it is the gateway to her intimate encounter. She recognises him immediately and is filled with the joy of the resurrection. All of her grief is turned to joy, and her anguish turns to an intense desire to share the news with the disciples. It is an intimate encounter which transforms her. It calls out to her deepest need, the need to see Jesus again, and does so with a single word – her name.
However, a true intimate encounter with God could never simply be for ourselves, like Mary in the Gospel story, it must be shared. Or maybe more like Mary, we would simply not be able to contain it! But still, it all begins with a name, and the one who is saying it. Our vocation comes from this place of encounter. The Latin root of vocation (vocare) literally translates as ‘to call’ – the call of our name by Christ to turn to Him. How do we respond to that call? Do we pretend that we haven’t heard it? Or even act as if we do not recognise that name?
Matthew Janvier O.Carm
