Easter Liturgy 2017
One morning when I was eight years old, my little sister banged on the bathroom door. She was about 1 at the time. She yelled, “Ashaa, Ashaa!” I quickly open the door and knelt down to look at her – with her footsy pjs and shock of uncombed curly hair. This was her first word. My name. Something shifted inside me and I felt love and pride. When she called my name (or the version she could manage), I felt a connection, I knew that we were sisters.
Names are important. We are called by different names all the time. We’ve been called bad names, nick names, labels given to us, and first and last names (perhaps mispronounced). Yet, we all hold onto a name that is entirely our own. The name that comes to mind when we contemplate our true selves. Maybe it’s the name your closest friends call you; a name not on your birth certificate; or the name your mom or grandma calls you (when she’s not mad at you). When you hear that name, perfectly pronounced, there is something inside that delights in being called by name. Continue reading