What's in a name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." 
                                                                            ~William Shakespeare Romeo and Juliet

There are words, names, and phrases, all of which have the ability to conjure certain feelings, images, or emotions within each of us. Some evoke luxury, think Cartier or Rolls Royce, Tiffany, or Fabergé. Some make us think of our childhood, our families, friends, and "home." Others instill fear, loathing, and anger, perhaps by no fault of their own, but by the subconscious bridge our thought patterns pursue upon hearing them.

The same can often be said of aromas, or other sensory perceptions. I have a series of childhood memories that flood my senses every time I smell a particular brand of dishwashing liquid. The scent of certain food stuffs automatically sends me into the warmth of my Grandmother's kitchen and her loving arms, but I digress.

A name, the simple moniker by which most are known their entire lives, bestowed upon them at birth by, presumably, loving parents. What we make of that name as we grow into our own person is an entirely different matter. Part of this is, of course, influenced by our parents and family, some by our encounters with the outside world, and yet other aspects by our closest friendships, especially as we reach our teen years and seek to be a part of our peer group and be accepted by the crowd.

I encountered a name this evening that I have not heard in YEARS. A name which occasionally crosses the scope of my memory and, along with a few others with which it will always be associated in my mind, makes my heart skip a beat. Not the kind of skip a beat that comes with a secret crush, or longing, nor that of joy or rapture, no, this is the kind of skip from abject terror, fear, and, perceived, inferiority.

Deep down I knew this name still held that sway, despite having not encountered this individual in over twenty-five years, but I was ill prepared for just what it did to me seeing his name.

I was made part of a Facebook group, a group with which I am logically to be associated, and yet my knee-jerk reaction at seeing his post at the top of the group page was to remove myself from said group.

This man, a mere teen at last encounter, his brother, and one other young man, were all amongst those I most feared in my junior high and high school years, they were my bullies. They were the big men on campus, the jocks, the hyper-masculine, make the girls swoon, crush the competition, heroes of the halls. I was their target!

Now in hind-sight, I was just discussing with a friend that in grade school I was probably a bully. There are many things I recall having done to others in those years that, while I'm not proud of, would qualify as bully behaviours. Yet, by the fifth grade, I had reformed. I became a model student and the target of the bullies. I had hobbies and even ways of dress that set me apart, and apparently I was also a bit nelly. Prime fodder for getting your butt kicked figuratively, and physically.

Moving on to a private, Christian school only exacerbated the problem. Throw in these guys who, seemingly, ran the place and I was toast.

Mentally I know these names should no longer hold such sway, for all I know these men have grown into open-minded individuals willing to embrace the diversity that our world offers, but subconsciously, they will always be the closed-minded, bigoted, neanderthals that scared the hell out of me every time I had to be anywhere near them.

Even today I think of things I may say to others and wonder could that have hurt more deeply than I perceived? Have I been a bully? Did they see, in what I intended as a joke, some mean spirit hell bent on crushing them? I must, daily and in every encounter, more carefully choose my words and measure my actions that my name not instill in others the dread and fear that these names hold for me.

"The mouth is a powerful weapon and words can never be taken back. So remember that while you think you're being helpful, or are indeed just joking, the most powerful weapon in the world has the ability to destroy someone inside and out."   ~Unknown

Cleanliness is next to godliness...

I have heard people, erroneously, espouse countless things from the pulpit, implying that countless issues could prevent you from reaching the pearly gates.

I've heard one state that if you have been divorced you cannot be a Christian. Another occasion afforded me the opportunity to learn that you could not be overweight and a Christian. Of course we've all heard that "God hates fags," so apparently being gay also prevents you from calling yourself a Christian. I'm sure there are countless other preventions from calling yourself Christian, some of which I've heard and some I haven't.

All these reasons you cannot enter a relationship with God or indeed call yourself Christian. So I've decided to add to these misnomers and begin my own campaign for why you may not call yourself a Christian or in fact a member of any monotheism.

If "cleanliness is next to godliness" it stands to reason that you shouldn't call yourself a Christian if you are not organised and an exceptional housekeeper.

From a scriptural standpoint we are encouraged to be good stewards. How can you call yourself a good steward if you are failing to keep things clean? Why should you be imparted with anything more, or better, if you fail to take care of those things, however meager, you already have?

Alright, I'll admit, I'm an obsessive housekeeper. My standards may be a bit higher than most but I firmly believe that every item I own or with which I am entrusted deserves the utmost care. It is my responsibility to keep things in the best condition possible.

So what about the organisationally challenged, those with chronic disorganisation? What about those with psychological reasons for their lack of cleanliness, hoarders or people of that ilk? Is it the responsibility of those of us gifted with organisation and the "clean gene" to pick up the slack? Perhaps. There are those who pick up the slack in so many areas of the Church or life in general, each has his, or her, "gifts," perhaps it it yours to keep the world clean and organised.

I just wish, sometimes, that those who are cleanliness challenged would realise the work involved in cleaning and keeping clean their environments and perhaps try a little harder to keep from making more work for you just moments after you finished an area.

"Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely." P.J. O'Rourke