What's
Love Got To Do With Names?
By Beth Glick Rieman
This talk is about names, naming and love. The Bible talks about that in the book of Luke. You'll recognize this as part of the Magnificat, Kusteb ti a few verses: Luke 1:26-31 and verses 41 and 42
Mary was named "Favored of God," "Blessed among women"
So what does that have to do with our theme in this conference, "Love as I have loved you?" Indeed, what does love have to do with the name, Church of the Brethren? Names, naming and love.
A long time ago, my mother and father spoke of love to each other and a preacher named them "married." My mother changed her name because she had a new awareness of who she was, and she didn't wait eight years to do it. She and Daddy made love, and whoosh! They had a baby to name. Then two, three, four--all boys--and then, I was born--a first girl. That was 77 years ago. Actually, I have been called many names these long years, some of which I do not care to talk about in this setting.
That first name had a lot to do with love. I was later to learn that it gave me a powerful sense of belonging--to seven generations of Elizabeth Glicks on my father's side, and on my mother's side, to her mother, Elizabeth Cline Evers and her grandmother, Elizabeth Cline.
It was not common in those days to value girls as I was valued. Many times I was told the story of the time when Brother Brougher, a visiting evangelist, was staying in our home. I must have been a beautiful baby, and I had just learned to stand. That day I was given another name by my father. Daddy stood me up on the dining room table where they sat talking and spoke some different words of love: "Isn't she a dandy?"
He and mama never called me anything but "Elizabeth." Daddy made it sound like music. I was a first daughter, and I knew I was special because I was a girl. Their love was always real; I never doubted it for a moment. I never doubted their commitment to my well-being. They were devoted to all their children.
I had another name at that time: I was Brethren. The church was at the center of our lives as a family. I got its teachings and beliefs with my mother's milk, and it became as dear to me as it was to them. The church and the Bible went together. We learned Bible verses and recited them at the table. We named God, "Loving , Heavenly Father" and before eating, we always thanked him that we did not need to go hungry. Love, in the sense of belonging, respect, honoring, valuing, commitment and connection were in the very air we breathed as that pile of youngsters grew to be 12.
We were all given names that had some special meaning to my parents. Naming, it seems to me, is a powerful privilege. Being named bestows on us a sense of identity, of who we are and to whom we belong. It indicates a commitment to certain values, beliefs, actions. It gives us a sense of purpose and mission in life. Naming has the power to transform persons and relationships, as when in marriage I gave up my name and became somebody else, Mrs. Glenn W. Rieman. I had a new identity, wife. I began to subsume my new value under his, as a good wife was supposed to do in those days. At his death, I was given a new name, widow, which, in Sanscrit means "empty."
Naming also has the power to shrivel the soul, to block creativity, to undermine wholeness, to puncture self-worth, to create suffering. As in such names as "stupid," "sinner," "enemy," "nigger," "fag," or even just "homosexual." Yes, and if we tell ourselves the truth, "Brethren."
Just as the name, "Brethren" once transformed a small band of believers into a church, it now serves to make of some members, "less than" others.
My parents were good parents, and our family could well be named a loving family," However, they were caught, as we all are, in the cultural mores of our time. So it was that when I was 8 or so, I began to receive conflicting messages about what was expected of me as a girl. In the one hand, I was told that I could be anything I wanted to be. On the other hand, there came a day about sixty years ago when, as a farm girl, I sat on the wagon shed wall with daddy and my life was changed by naming
"Elizabeth," he asked: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A preacher like you, Daddy." I said without hesitation. Then the silence.
"Well, you could be a missionary, or you could go into Christian education."
I carried the weight of that moment with me for 52 years. It was in 1975 when I had cast off that cultural conditioning as false, and so had he, that I asked him what he thought about my getting ordained.
"I would be very proud," he said, "to have a daughter in the ministry." And so I gave myself a new name, "Reverend."
It was during this process of claiming myself as called of God, now 25 years ago that I knew the name, "Brethren," was no longer true for me. Oh, I did not "throw the baby out with the bath." Still today I am thankful for what the name meant in those formative years of my life and what it means today in the twilight years: solidarity with a suffering world, peace with justice, responsible use of resources, awareness of all people as part of my family. Great tenants of faith that continue to undergird my actions and structure my living.
But I no longer call myself, "Brethren." The last time I did was 1977. I was then on the national staff of the church in a position named, "Person Awareness Coordinator," so-called, I was told by the man who hired me, "because the church is not ready to put money into a position called, 'Women's Issues.'" (In retrospect, I am sorry that I bought the lie--but that's a whole different story.)
As part of my responsibility in that position, I represented the Church of the Brethren on the "Justice for Women Working Group" of the National Council of Churches. Part of every meeting was a "role call" when each woman identified herself by naming her denomination. One such role call is indelible in my mind. When I responded, "Church of the Brethren," a United Methodist woman interrupted the process with "Church of the Brethren? Beth, it sounds to me that your work for justice would better begin at home!" She thought she was joking, but it was no joke to me. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and lick my wounds. Wounded, not that she had put a finger on my sorest spot as a "Brethren." Wounded, rather, and ashamed that my beloved denomination, and most of my brothers in it in particular, seemed to have no awareness of the pain that name caused me over and over and how it was reflected in the injustices toward women that I saw all around me, and in women's de-valuing of themselves.
At that meeting, my mind was flooded with thoughts and images. The Women's Movement in our society was far ahead of the church in changing language that excludes women and in understanding the injustices dealt out to women on every level of our living. Yet, it was the church, I had always believed, that was meant to be the instrument of God's love on earth. I went back to my room and wept and wept. It was then that I vowed never to have to say I was "Brethren." Rather, when the occasion has called for naming, I say, and have always said, "I call my church the Church of Reconciliation. Officially it's known as the Church of the Brethren. We will change that name someday, perhaps about the time the pope decrees that women shall be ordained as Roman Catholic priests."
That was not an isolated instance for me. I still often feel shame for my brothers and sisters who don't seem to know what "Brethren" really means in this day and age. I oftentimes feel like the prophet Isaiah, who said, "Woe is me, for I am a person of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips." I have had to step back from active participation in my beloved denomination because it hurts me. For awhile I thought about withdrawing completely. I did not. I am still a member, and an ordained minister, and I live in the hope that I will see the day when the name is changed. Right now, it shrivels my soul, denies my worth and blocks my creativity. It does not feel loving. It makes me and "outsider," accepted, but not fully.
As a denomination, we are known for our magnificent work for peace and justice in the world. I honor that, and, at the same time, I wail with the Psalmist, Oh Love, how long? How long will we continue to refuse to do that most important work of peace with justice at home?
My sisters and I in this church will know we are loved when:
1. We are no longer embarrassed to claim the name by which we identify ourselves as churchwomen.
2. When we no longer use a name that implies elevation of male over female.
3. When the leaders of our denomination put money on the line to fund a staff member whose sole duty it is to attend to the role and status of women in the church.,
4. When we are called by a name that shows we are valued as women, honored as Mary when she was told she was favored by God, blessed among women,
5. And when we are called by a name that awakens our creativity, calls out our gifts, supports our growth toward wholeness and spiritual maturity, gives us a sense of worth, and makes us feel a true sense of belonging.
What does LOVE have to do with the name, "Church of the BRETHREN?"
You must decide for yourself. For me, it has EVERYTHING to do with it! EVERYTHING!
By Beth Glick Rieman
This talk is about names, naming and love. The Bible talks about that in the book of Luke. You'll recognize this as part of the Magnificat, Kusteb ti a few verses: Luke 1:26-31 and verses 41 and 42
Mary was named "Favored of God," "Blessed among women"
So what does that have to do with our theme in this conference, "Love as I have loved you?" Indeed, what does love have to do with the name, Church of the Brethren? Names, naming and love.
A long time ago, my mother and father spoke of love to each other and a preacher named them "married." My mother changed her name because she had a new awareness of who she was, and she didn't wait eight years to do it. She and Daddy made love, and whoosh! They had a baby to name. Then two, three, four--all boys--and then, I was born--a first girl. That was 77 years ago. Actually, I have been called many names these long years, some of which I do not care to talk about in this setting.
That first name had a lot to do with love. I was later to learn that it gave me a powerful sense of belonging--to seven generations of Elizabeth Glicks on my father's side, and on my mother's side, to her mother, Elizabeth Cline Evers and her grandmother, Elizabeth Cline.
It was not common in those days to value girls as I was valued. Many times I was told the story of the time when Brother Brougher, a visiting evangelist, was staying in our home. I must have been a beautiful baby, and I had just learned to stand. That day I was given another name by my father. Daddy stood me up on the dining room table where they sat talking and spoke some different words of love: "Isn't she a dandy?"
He and mama never called me anything but "Elizabeth." Daddy made it sound like music. I was a first daughter, and I knew I was special because I was a girl. Their love was always real; I never doubted it for a moment. I never doubted their commitment to my well-being. They were devoted to all their children.
I had another name at that time: I was Brethren. The church was at the center of our lives as a family. I got its teachings and beliefs with my mother's milk, and it became as dear to me as it was to them. The church and the Bible went together. We learned Bible verses and recited them at the table. We named God, "Loving , Heavenly Father" and before eating, we always thanked him that we did not need to go hungry. Love, in the sense of belonging, respect, honoring, valuing, commitment and connection were in the very air we breathed as that pile of youngsters grew to be 12.
We were all given names that had some special meaning to my parents. Naming, it seems to me, is a powerful privilege. Being named bestows on us a sense of identity, of who we are and to whom we belong. It indicates a commitment to certain values, beliefs, actions. It gives us a sense of purpose and mission in life. Naming has the power to transform persons and relationships, as when in marriage I gave up my name and became somebody else, Mrs. Glenn W. Rieman. I had a new identity, wife. I began to subsume my new value under his, as a good wife was supposed to do in those days. At his death, I was given a new name, widow, which, in Sanscrit means "empty."
Naming also has the power to shrivel the soul, to block creativity, to undermine wholeness, to puncture self-worth, to create suffering. As in such names as "stupid," "sinner," "enemy," "nigger," "fag," or even just "homosexual." Yes, and if we tell ourselves the truth, "Brethren."
Just as the name, "Brethren" once transformed a small band of believers into a church, it now serves to make of some members, "less than" others.
My parents were good parents, and our family could well be named a loving family," However, they were caught, as we all are, in the cultural mores of our time. So it was that when I was 8 or so, I began to receive conflicting messages about what was expected of me as a girl. In the one hand, I was told that I could be anything I wanted to be. On the other hand, there came a day about sixty years ago when, as a farm girl, I sat on the wagon shed wall with daddy and my life was changed by naming
"Elizabeth," he asked: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A preacher like you, Daddy." I said without hesitation. Then the silence.
"Well, you could be a missionary, or you could go into Christian education."
I carried the weight of that moment with me for 52 years. It was in 1975 when I had cast off that cultural conditioning as false, and so had he, that I asked him what he thought about my getting ordained.
"I would be very proud," he said, "to have a daughter in the ministry." And so I gave myself a new name, "Reverend."
It was during this process of claiming myself as called of God, now 25 years ago that I knew the name, "Brethren," was no longer true for me. Oh, I did not "throw the baby out with the bath." Still today I am thankful for what the name meant in those formative years of my life and what it means today in the twilight years: solidarity with a suffering world, peace with justice, responsible use of resources, awareness of all people as part of my family. Great tenants of faith that continue to undergird my actions and structure my living.
But I no longer call myself, "Brethren." The last time I did was 1977. I was then on the national staff of the church in a position named, "Person Awareness Coordinator," so-called, I was told by the man who hired me, "because the church is not ready to put money into a position called, 'Women's Issues.'" (In retrospect, I am sorry that I bought the lie--but that's a whole different story.)
As part of my responsibility in that position, I represented the Church of the Brethren on the "Justice for Women Working Group" of the National Council of Churches. Part of every meeting was a "role call" when each woman identified herself by naming her denomination. One such role call is indelible in my mind. When I responded, "Church of the Brethren," a United Methodist woman interrupted the process with "Church of the Brethren? Beth, it sounds to me that your work for justice would better begin at home!" She thought she was joking, but it was no joke to me. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and lick my wounds. Wounded, not that she had put a finger on my sorest spot as a "Brethren." Wounded, rather, and ashamed that my beloved denomination, and most of my brothers in it in particular, seemed to have no awareness of the pain that name caused me over and over and how it was reflected in the injustices toward women that I saw all around me, and in women's de-valuing of themselves.
At that meeting, my mind was flooded with thoughts and images. The Women's Movement in our society was far ahead of the church in changing language that excludes women and in understanding the injustices dealt out to women on every level of our living. Yet, it was the church, I had always believed, that was meant to be the instrument of God's love on earth. I went back to my room and wept and wept. It was then that I vowed never to have to say I was "Brethren." Rather, when the occasion has called for naming, I say, and have always said, "I call my church the Church of Reconciliation. Officially it's known as the Church of the Brethren. We will change that name someday, perhaps about the time the pope decrees that women shall be ordained as Roman Catholic priests."
That was not an isolated instance for me. I still often feel shame for my brothers and sisters who don't seem to know what "Brethren" really means in this day and age. I oftentimes feel like the prophet Isaiah, who said, "Woe is me, for I am a person of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips." I have had to step back from active participation in my beloved denomination because it hurts me. For awhile I thought about withdrawing completely. I did not. I am still a member, and an ordained minister, and I live in the hope that I will see the day when the name is changed. Right now, it shrivels my soul, denies my worth and blocks my creativity. It does not feel loving. It makes me and "outsider," accepted, but not fully.
As a denomination, we are known for our magnificent work for peace and justice in the world. I honor that, and, at the same time, I wail with the Psalmist, Oh Love, how long? How long will we continue to refuse to do that most important work of peace with justice at home?
My sisters and I in this church will know we are loved when:
1. We are no longer embarrassed to claim the name by which we identify ourselves as churchwomen.
2. When we no longer use a name that implies elevation of male over female.
3. When the leaders of our denomination put money on the line to fund a staff member whose sole duty it is to attend to the role and status of women in the church.,
4. When we are called by a name that shows we are valued as women, honored as Mary when she was told she was favored by God, blessed among women,
5. And when we are called by a name that awakens our creativity, calls out our gifts, supports our growth toward wholeness and spiritual maturity, gives us a sense of worth, and makes us feel a true sense of belonging.
What does LOVE have to do with the name, "Church of the BRETHREN?"
You must decide for yourself. For me, it has EVERYTHING to do with it! EVERYTHING!
Name Resources
History & Polity
Speeches & Reflections
Joining the Conversation
History & Polity
- History of our Name
- Historical Timeline (pdf)
- Historical Quotes
- Names in the Bible
- Name Change Polity (pdf)
Speeches & Reflections
Joining the Conversation