This post - and I warn you now, it’s a longish essay - is going to be all about names.
Well, One Name in particular.
But to get started, a little quiz: - What do the following all have in common?
Mount Fuji, The River Avon, The Sahara Desert, Lake Niassa.
If – like me – you are a fan of the BBC’s panel quiz show QI, you might know the answer. It featured in a recent show.
For everyone else, the answer is this: They are tautologies, they’re tautological names. They mean:
Mount Mount, The River River, The Desert Desert, and Lake Lake.
“Fuji” being the ancient native Japanese word for mountain, “Avon” being the original Celtic word for river – and so on. In fact, on the show Stephen Fry mentioned a great many more examples of the same thing. It’s very common with geographical names.
And, I guess, it’s not hard to figure out why this happens. Way back in history, to the indigenous people living in the shadow of the mountain, or in the desert, their lives were absolutely dominated by that thing. Their worldview wasn’t sufficiently large for them to have any notion that there could, elsewhere in the world, be another mountain or another desert. THEIR mountain was just “The Mountain” in whatever tongue they had; their desert was just The Desert.
Later on, explorers would come their way and ask the natives what the name of the mountain was – and they would answer, in their tongue, The Mountain. So we got these compound-names: Mount Fuji, and Lake Niassa, and so on.
( As an aside here, it would have been perfect if this held true for the River Nile, too. We could tie it into a biblical name. Alas, no. The ancient Egyptians called it Iteru - which means, of course, “The River” - but the name Nile was given to it by the Greeks, apparently, and has come down to us in the modern day. Never mind.)
The point I am trying to make in all this is fairly simple:
When there is only ONE of something, it doesn’t need a name. Names are only used to distinguish between many things of the same type. When there is only one of something, it doesn’t get a name – only a title:
The Moon. The Sun. The Sky. The World.
Of course, we now know – with our new-fangled fancy science - that there are many, many moons in the Solar System - and all of those moons have names. But our moon is just The Moon. We now know that all those stars in the night sky are suns just like our sun, and we have given them all names. But our sun doesn’t have a name - it’s just The Sun.
It’s not as if, when I say to you - “Oh look, the sun is shining!” - that you’re likely to be confused, wondering which of all the stars in the Galaxy I am talking about.
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I must admit, this next thing I’m going to say is not a terribly original insight - it’s pretty much a commonplace observation. But, here goes: the conception of God, his personality as depicted in the Bible, over the whole period of history covered by the bible, shows major changes and developments over that time. Never mind that many literal-minded modern-day Christians, including the witnesses, try to maintain that the Bible reveals an unchanging and consistent concept of “The One True God” throughout its pages, most sensible people can see that this is not true.
Whereas the latter-day, New Testament God - the modern God, if you like - is all mercy, beneficence, goodness and tender loving-kindness (The Apostle tells us simply that “God is Love”), the God of the Old Testament, sad to say, was not such a noble character. He was Mighty alright, but had chronic anger-management issues: he was easily offended, short-tempered, and always a little too ready to resort to violent solutions. He even sometimes did things in the fury of the moment that he later regretted.
And in fact, going back even earlier, to the very earliest biblical depiction of God - the one in the Garden of Eden - God appears there to be not very much more than a powerful man. He seems to be man-sized, he walks with Adam in the Garden “ in the cool of the day”. He can be hidden from (they’re behind the bushes!) He has to ask “Where are you?” And, instead of simply banishing Adam from the Garden with supernatural force, he has to post a guard with a sword at the gate.
So, I would say It’s pretty much undeniable that, as for God’s personality, there’s a definite arc of character-development that goes on through the course of the Bible. But I want to develop this idea a little further, and talk about the difference between the very-early and the later Israelite conceptions of God’s place in the universe, and this is an idea that brings us back to our theme of names.
Given what I said a little while ago about the nature and purpose of names, I can’t help but think that it is an absolutely extraordinary notion, indeed a truly bizarre idea, that the Great God of the Heavens, the Supreme One, Infinite in his Matchless Majesty, Alone and Peerless in his Magnificence, utterly unlike any other, would have any need for ... a name.
A name? A NAME?
What, so that you don’t get Him mixed up with any of those other Unique, Infinite, Peerless (etc.) Supreme Beings?
A moment ‘s reflection makes us realise that the idea of God needing a name absolutely flies in the face of the whole notion of Monotheism. But the modern concept of there being Only one God - “One is One, and all alone, and evermore shall be so!” - would have been, I think, very alien to the ancient Israelites.
For them, the other Gods were not mere figments, make-believe non-entities conjured from the foolish imaginations of the surrounding nations. The other deities weren’t “gods” in quote marks. They were every bit as real their God. Only difference was THEIR God - Jehovah, Yahweh, whatever - was the pick of the bunch. He was better, stronger, possessing greater mightiness. He had the most powerful forces; He was Lord of Hosts, Jehovah of Armies. It wasn’t that the others were non-existent, it was just that the Israelite God was Best (the most scary).
And, of course, in THAT context, having a name, a personal name, makes perfect sense. You had to “call upon the Name of Jehovah” because you wanted to make sure you got through to the right God.
And all that stuff about Jehovah being a “Jealous” God, “exacting exclusive devotion” now makes sense as well. What kind of Omnipotent Sovereign of The Universe gets jealous? Who’s He got to be jealous of?
But, if he’s competing for recognition in a veritable marketplace of deities, well, of course, he’s going to demand strict devotion, and he’s going to react furiously to any defections to the opposition. I think it’s pretty clear that the early Israelites were – like all the tribes about them – promiscuously polytheistic. By which I mean that they believed in, rather than worshipped, many gods. And that’s why THEIR God had to have, and why they made such a fuss about, his Name.
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Modern scholars seem to be agreed that it was the Persians who brought the concept of monotheism to the Israelites. The idea that there is only One True God, as opposed to a heavenly Pantheon populated by multitudes of competing deities, was a strong and powerful one and it relentlessly rolled over and replaced the older, more primitive ideas. I guess you might say that the Israelites got “New Light” on this one.
So, whereas you read in the books of Exodus and Judges furious denunciations of the surrounding nations and their Gods, and many episodes where Jehovah instructs His People to make war on them, by the time you get to Isaiah, a few hundred years later, and - crucially - after exposure to the Persians/Babylonians, you come across this almost comedy-routine concerning the Nations’ Gods:
Half of the wood he burns in the fire; over it he prepares his meal,
he roasts his meat and eats his fill. He also warms himself and says,
“Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”
From the rest he makes a god, his idol; he bows down to it and worships.
He prays to it and says, “Save me! You are my god!” (Isaiah Chapter 44).
The Nations Gods have now become “gods”. They’re not even worth taking seriously, they’re simply ridiculous. There is – of course! - only One True Sovereign Lord, He is the Most High, and all the rest are imaginary.
And is it any wonder that, from about this time forward, the use of God’s personal Name starts to be abandoned? By the time we fast-forward to Jesus’ time, six hundred years later, it has completely fallen out of use.
Of course, the collective tribal memory cannot admit to itself that the idea of the Personal Name has become an embarrassment, a reminder of their previous primitive notions, now seemingly pagan. The vague disquiet that is felt with regard to the Name has somehow translated itself into a pious feeling that this Name is too sacred, too holy to be spoken by mere men. It becomes traditionally taboo. It is only spoken rarely, and then in strictly controlled circumstances: the readings of the ancient scrolls in the synagogue.
Funnily enough, it appears that the Jews , by this time, have come to regard the speaking aloud of the Holy Name in rather the same way that modern-day witnesses feel about one of their members who absent-mindedly forgets himself and says “Good Luck!” or even “Saint Peter”. It clashes on the ears and sensibilities. (You’ll no doubt remember the Monty Python sketch in “Life of Brian” where the townspeople all want to stone the blasphemer who has spoken the name “Jehovah” out loud. “Right, no one is to stone ANYONE until I blow this whistle! Even if – and I want to make this QUITE clear – even if they DO say Jehovah!” ** tons of rocks**)
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There is a very famous science fiction short story, written by Arthur C Clarke in 1953 that has always been a favourite of mine, and is very relevant to this discussion. It is called “The Nine Billion Names of God” and has, I believe, something profound to say about labelling things with names, and – in particular - giving a name to God.
There follows spoilers, so if you have never read it, you can do so now by clicking:
http://www.ministryoftruth.me.uk/the-nine-billion-names-of-god-arthur-c-clarke/
The story describes the adventure that a pair of computer engineers have when they take on an assignment with a monastery of Tibetan monks. In accordance with their philosophy, the monks believe they have been tasked with writing out all the possible Names of God. They reckon there are nine billion of them, and they have been at the task for 300 years. They had expected to be busy doing this for many centuries to come, until they hear about western computer technology, which can help them speed up the task, bringing it down to a matter of days. This is where our two chaps come in.
The kick in the story is all to do with what the monks imagine will happen when they succeed in their bizarre task. They are convinced that, when they have finally completed writing down all nine billion names, something truly earth-shattering will happen. Simply put, when all the names are known, written down, filed away and organised – captured and tamed you might say - then there will be no literally further point to anything. The Universe would simply stop, there being no knowledge, events, information or happenings left to occur. It’s the End of Everything. The story comes to a climax just as the computer completes its program...
The deep truth that the story suggests to me is that in naming something, in some way we diminish that thing. A name draws boundaries around a thing – it defines it. It becomes labelled and is made accessible - “oh, yes, it’s one of those” . The naming of something is the beginning of control over that thing.
You remember that old joke that features the poor spotty patient lying in a hospital bed surrounded by a team of doctors?
“ Great news Mr. Blenkinsop! We have FINALLY discovered what you disease have!
We’re calling it Blenkinsop’s Disease!”
Something that’s Nameless has some strange and dreadful power over us, but once we’ve given it a name we are reassured, we have begun to understand it and get our head around it. Patients are always relieved to know that their illness has a name. If it has a name, then it’s known, someone somewhere will be an expert – there will be a treatment. Armed with a Name, we can look that disease in the eye, and set about defeating it. To Name is to Tame.
All that being the case, surely mortal man ought to think long and hard before he presumes to Name his God? Isn’t putting a name on God an attempt to limit him, to label him, to set boundaries, to understand Him in terms convenient to us, to drag him down to our level?
And who on earth ever thought that using the personal Name of God to address Him was an appropriate thing to do? Names aren’t just functional labels – they are much more nuanced than that – they are all tied up with ideas connected to status and honour.
Very few people in this world would consider it appropriate to address the Queen of England to her face as “Elizabeth”. Or indeed the President. Come to that, most people would think it a bit disrespectful even to address their own parents by their personal names. “Mum” and “Dad” aren’t names – they are honorifics. And quite right, too. And here we’re talking about mere people, never mind the Supreme Divinity.
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So, let’s wrap this whole thing up by turning our attention to the modern-day people who bear – or imagine they do – God’s Personal Name.
Even as a child, growing up as a witness, I can remember thinking that some of the stuff you heard and read about the name Jehovah was a bit off-the-wall. It seemed to me that, just as it was possible to be guilty of “idolatry” with respect to a flag or national anthem, the attitudes displayed to the Divine Name came pretty close to exactly that - we made a fetish out of the Name, if not an Idol.
Also there was that business where you were supposed to call out the name “ Jehovah! Jehovah! ” when you were (or imagined you were) under demon attack? It was always clear to me that the more nut-case elements down the Hall - the people who always had demon stories to tell - believed that the name itself had actual magical properties. This always seemed just a step away from believing in Witchcraft to me, magic spells and magic words .
And further than that, if you took any sort of scholarly attitude to studying the bible at all, pretty soon you would come to the conclusion that the name itself - the talisman “Jehovah” - was an awful, botched mistranslation. Even from the Society’s own literature you could pretty quickly discover that the Divine Name was actually something more like “Yahweh”, and not Jehovah at all.
How could that be showing any respect to God, getting His Name wrong like that ? The Society would say “It doesn’t matter - the intention is what counts . Jehovah is how the name has become known throughout the world , and we should give due honour to that Name - as it has become. This shows the right attitude” But how could that be right?
To bring it back to parents again – my Dad’s name was John. Let’s say I had been tasked with introducing him to some audience or readership, and due to an unfortunate typographical error, that audience had got the impression that his name was Jane. The right response on my part would be to try to correct that error in the most elegant and dignified way I could, and let those people know his real name. What would certainly not be respectful or appropriate would be for me to turn round to him and say: “Well, gosh, that’s bad luck. But they know you as Jane now. So, you better get used to it!”
It was Rutherford who first made a big deal about the Divine Name, and the suspicion lingers that he was – as always – just looking for a way to differentiate his religious group from all the others. And so much of what he did and taught as doctrine turns out to have been simply marketing. Making a big fuss about the name “Jehovah” , the adoption of the name Jehovah’s Witnesses, now looks like nothing more than an expedient way of creating a distinctive identity for his followers.
Remember: Rutherford was all “Advertise! Advertise! Advertise!” And you can’t help but think that the name “Jehovah” was really just a tool, a part of that publicity campaign. And it certainly was successful - ask anyone in the modern world what they first think of when they hear the name Jehovah and it’s the Watchtower-sellers they’re going to mention first.
So, let’s just reflect on that a moment:
The Divine Name, the Sacred Name, has been pressed into service as a marketing instrument of the Watchtower Society. A publicity device, designed to maximise public exposure, employed for a very tawdry, very twentieth-century commercial purpose: a trade-mark for the Watchtower publishing business.
The Watchtower took what was to the Israelites (the original custodians of the Name, the original people of the bible) The Wondrous, The Glorious , The So-Sacred-It-Couldn’t-Be-Spoken, The Ineffable, The Most Utterly, Utterly Holy Divine Name...
...and they turned it into a Brand.