Missing Names

FROM THE RECTOR

A month or two ago, I called someone coming out of church by the wrong name. I recognized her and boldly said the name that came to my mind, but, as soon as it came out of my mouth, I knew I was wrong. Generous and forgiving, she paused and gave me the chance to figure it out. Quickly, I realized that I had called her by her husband’s name, so I corrected myself and tried again. When I did, though, something still was not right. She smiled, letting me know to my horror that I had gotten it wrong a second time. Mercifully, she put me out of my misery and reminded me of her name. When she did, I recognized that the second name I had called her was the name of another person who is married to someone with the same name I had called her the first time. In other words, my brain was using all of the right connections but coming back with the wrong result.

I have now been at St. Paul’s for three years, and half of that time has been spent dealing with the pandemic. I spent eighteen months learning everyone’s names, and I have spent the last eighteen months forgetting them. Our need to hide behind masks did not help, but neither did our need to spend a year without seeing each other. As that embarrassing case of mistaken identity shows, I have not forgotten you—your smile, your story, your prayer requests, your celebrations—but I may have trouble recalling your name.

It hurts when our priest does not remember our name. Our clergy are supposed to know us and care about us and love us. How can the person who holds our hand before surgery and hugs us tightly when our parent dies and hears us divulge the deepest failures of our lives not even remember the most basic piece of information about us? Even I find it hard to believe. I bet a neuroscientist could help me understand why I can recall that your mother grew up in rural Indiana but cannot remember your name, but I need more than an explanation. I need practice.

I feel like I need practice in lots of ways—like I know more or less what I need to do but also need some time to get good at those things again. As life starts back up, are there things that once came naturally for you that you need to remaster? Maybe small talk in awkward social situations is especially frightening. Maybe your ironing skills need some work. Maybe your prayer life is different. Maybe long periods of solitary silence come more easily than before and the thought of a full church feels off-putting. Maybe you have forgotten how good it is to come and be nourished by the body of Christ every week.

This Sunday is Adelyn’s first Sunday at St. Paul’s. For her sake and for mine, I hope you will wear a nametag, and I hope you will keep wearing a nametag for at least several weeks. In addition to familiar faces who have returned to church after a pandemic hiatus, there are many new people who have joined our church in the last few months. We all need practice with names. Three years ago, I wrote to you asking that you would forgive me when I get your name wrong and that you would help me by reintroducing yourself until you hear me greet you by name on a regular basis. Even though we already know each other, I hope you will try that again. When I first arrived, learning your names was a way to begin a pastoral relationship. Now, as we come back together again, relearning them is way to reconnect with the relationship that already exists.

Yours Faithfully,

Evan