By Eric A. Clayton
In the parish my family attended growing up, there was a priest who used to begin mass by inviting those sitting next to us to introduce ourselves (this was long before a relationship emerged between the pandemic and prayer that we made him extend his hands to the others with suspicion and a raised eyebrow).
I think the purpose of this was, in part, to build the community and, in part, to lay the foundation for the transition that would follow. This is what he always said: » Names are important. They are how we hold on to the conversation. Now, let’s start talking with God in the name of the Father…” He said it with the same inflection year after year, to the point that, more than a decade later, I still hear it echoing in my head. But it’s not just the consistency of expression that made this segment stick in my mind; I really love this idea of having a conversation with others through wearing – dare we say, the reverence – of the names of others.
The names are important. In them is our identity, our history, what we have been and what we can be. Perhaps not so much because of the variety of sounds and letters that make up our names, but because of all the lips that have mentioned our names, the places in which they have been written. The people who write down our names.
More than two years have passed, and this series of weekly reflections has no name. But it does have, I think, an identity, a direction, a purpose – all those things that a good name signals.
So let me try a new name for this series, a name I hope you hold on to as you go through your days, a mantra, perhaps, for your own ongoing reflection: Now discern this.
I think each of us is tempted to assume that God is somewhere else, busy, directing big, important projects that barely affect our lives. We believe that our stories are monotonous, ordinary and too small for our great God.
Of course, this is not so. God and God’s dream for creation are woven into the very fabric of our existence. God never stops whispering our names – yours, mine – deeper into the wonder of all that is.
So, right nowGod is working, right now. Stop. Recognize the Spirit that beats in the air around you. That same Spirit is inviting you to discern how this particular chapter of your seemingly ordinary story will unfold for the greater glory of God and the good of all creation. That’s right: at this very moment, God is inviting you to enter more deeply into the mystery of the universe.
What are you going to do? How are you going to respond to this invitation, to this specific moment, to this Good Spirit that pulls your heart, your mind and your hands? That «this» What you decide – the fruit of this continuous discernment of daily life – is your contribution to the story of God, your recognition that your story matters infinitely to our God of surprises. May the Good Spirit hold you closely through seemingly ordinary events. Right now.
Names are important. They are the way we hold on to each other in conversation. Names are also the way we hold onto each other long after the conversation is over, the way we revere what the bearer of those names has meant to us and our stories.
I hope the name of this weekly series helps you hold on to the truth that God is working in your story, intimately interested in its development, and desiring your collaboration in its realization.
Now. Discern. This.
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Eric A. Clayton is the author of Cannonball Moments: Telling Your Story, Deepening Your Faith (Loyola Press) and deputy director of communications for the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States. His essays on spirituality, parenting, and pop culture have appeared in America Magazine, National Catholic Reporter, busted halo and others, and is a regular contributor to Give Us This Day and IgnatianSpirituality.com. His fiction has been published by Dark Hare Press, World of Myth magazine, and others. He lives in Baltimore, MD, with his wife, two young daughters, and his cat, Sebastian. Follow Eric’s writings at ericclaytonwrites.com.
