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Just Another Jim
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Eastern Orthodoxy


Essays on Eastern Orthodoxy

In Celebration of Names and Numbers

Essay on Chrismation (the process of joining the Orthodox Church)
December 2, 2005

As of last weekend (Nov. 26) I have two new identities, and as a result I am now known by a new name (sort of) and a number, although my old friends will still call me by my old name.

First, the number: On Wednesday before Thanksgiving it was decided that I had spent enough time with my trainer. The company told me to report to Ft. Dodge, Iowa to pick up my own truck on Monday morning. It’s truck #283. Since all business at Keim is done by truck and trailer number, I will now be identified as #283 by my dispatcher, the safety officer, and the load broker. It’s not until all that information gets to the payroll department that I will be transformed back into me–Jim Nelson. And if I went and looked over Ruth’s shoulder, I would probably discover that in the payroll department I’m known by my social security number rather than my name (although that may not be the case).Jim and his Truck

Second, the new name: On Saturday night, following Vespers, Brenda and I were chrismated into the Orthodox Church. We are now formally Eastern Orthodox. In order for that to happen we each had to have a sponsor. (That role is better known by the title, God-parent, the term more typically used when babies are baptized.) Sponsors are supposed to be like our immediate family in the congregation. They show us the ropes, make sure we understand what’s going on, and help us fulfill our roles as members of the congregation.

Along with a sponsor from the Church Militant (to use an old Calvinist term), that is, the earthly, physical church, we were each given a sponsor from the Church Triumphant, the heavenly church made up of those who have already died. Just as our earthly sponsor is better known as a God-parent in our culture, so our heavenly sponsor is better known as a Patron Saint. My Patron Saint is James the Solitary, from Cyrrhus, Syria. He’s a rather unremarkable Christian who lived long ago. He was a monk and died a natural death. I chose him for three reasons: His name is the same as mine; the day he is honored in the church is Nov. 26, the same day I was chrismated; and, he is honored particularly for his solitary lifestyle. As a trucker I will be a solitary sort of person out on the road, and the connection seemed appropriate.

The tradition is that we take on the name of our Patron Saint in the context of worship. Thus, when I receive communion, I will be called James and when Brenda receives communion, she will be called Nicole, because her patron saint is Nicholas of Myra, one of the Bishops at the Council of Nicea who declared Arius a heretic and subsequently formulated the Nicene Creed. He is particularly honored because he loved to give gifts in secret. Just as our earthly sponsors guide us in how to be good church members, so it is understood that our heavenly sponsors will pray for us, and by that means, will help guide us in how to be good Christians.

At this point my old Protestantism kicks in, and I ask, “How do I know James the Solitary will pray for me?” (It’s a rather silly concept, after all, from my contemporary American perspective.) Well, I don’t know, if you mean the question in terms of empirical and rational enquiry. But since the earliest generations, Christians have claimed this sort of relationship with other Christians who had already suffered physical death and were in heaven. Given the historical practice, the onus would be on me, the modern skeptic, to prove that James the Solitary was not praying for me, and since there is no way I can do that, I have chosen to believe that this sort of relationship does indeed exist.

I must admit, at this juncture, that in the back of mind there was a little voice that said, “Since you’re going to believe that your heavenly sponsor is actually going to pray for you, choose a relatively unknown saint because he or she will have more time to pray. The popular saints, like Gregory, Paul, and James the Apostle have an awful lot of people that probably keep them real busy. Go with a minor saint and you’ll get more attention.” Of course that’s a very silly notion, and yet it’s a natural human response to something as mysterious as the living doctrine of the communion of the saints. It’s hard to get our limited little heads around this idea and so we tend to reduce it to something manageable.

And that is, I believe, part of the reason that the Orthodox Church, in it’s ancient wisdom, asks its adherents to be known by their saints’ names, at least in the sacramental context of the Lord’s Supper. Having this other name is a weekly reminder that while I’m in this world, I’m not of it. As a Christian I am called to follow a rather different set of rules and to live my life in a completely different context. Paul, in 2 Cor. 5:17 said, “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation: the old has gone, the new has come!” New creation: new name.

It is essentially the same dynamic at work with the trucking company. As a truck driver for Keim TS, I have a new set of responsibilities and a new way of doing things that is unique to that company. In order to live in proper relationship to the company, it’s just a whole lot easier for everyone, including me, if I’m known as “#283” instead of “Jim Nelson.” Whenever I get fuel, I have to identify my truck number. If I get a repair, or deliver a load of sheet rock, the truck number has to be on the paper work. That’s not necessarily a depersonalization; it’s rather becoming personalized into the context and culture of this particular company. It’s my way of fitting in without giving away too much information to people who have no business knowing that information.

But back to the idea of our relationship between us and saints for a moment. Of course, these thoughts on the relationship between those who have already died and gone to heaven (ie, saints) and Christians who remain on earth is overly simplistic. But sometimes simple insights that can be grasped are better than complex theological arguments that remain illusive. The Calvinist distinction between the Church Militant and the Church Triumphant is also simplistic. It emphasizes the reality that the Christian life on earth is a struggle while the heavenly life will be filled with worship, praise, and rejoicing. One of the things that description ignores is the connection between those who remain alive and those who have died and are now in heaven. Heaven isn’t out there and far away. There is commerce between here and there. Furthermore, if the Orthodox are correct (and I believe they are), heavenly existence isn’t just triumph, there is struggle there as well as here. As long as one believer remains on earth, the whole church will struggle with that believer, interceding on their behalf, so that they to can live triumphantly, not just in some by and by, but here and now on earth.

So, even though it’s a bit simplistic, I’m glad I have both James the Solitary as my heavenly sponsor and Michael Antonovich as my earthly sponsor. Sometimes I revel in my own solitariness (especially now that I’m #283) and suffer from being a lone wolf in a disconnected world. I need these connections that have been thrust upon me to be faithful to my Christian calling.