smells just like I'm hungry

Just a bunch of jumbled thoughts that I think do fit somehow, but I can't find any glue at the moment.

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"How is it that in a world where all that is real is a particular and individual thing, the human mind is able to distribute the manifold of reality into classes, in which particular things are contained?"

"Who gets to define gots the power."

kategoreo - English: to charge with; accuse. Latin: predicament

"What's in a name? Plenty!"

"By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word."

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What do we know when we know someone's name? Identity is one thing, but identification is another.

"Who do you say I am?"

"Say my name, say my name..."

"Smile when you say that, pardner!"

"And out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field..."

My take on this naming business is that Adam gave each creature a name *individually* rather than according to kind or class. Adam gave them each their very own name, and their name was a gift as much as their relationship/connection with Adam was gift. The naming came out of Adam's priestly role of offering up each creature with love and delight. It was a different order of power. Each was named, *but not defined*. Not reduced to a word.

Not like we like to do with, say, clams. Poor clams. Not exactly an onomatopoetic identification. The ID "clam" hardly does clam-ness justice, does it. But we think we know clams. Seen one clam, seen them all. Poor clams, did I say? No, poor us. We seldom see actual individual clams. We have no names for individual clams. Even when we do the names miss the point. You know, like, "Let me introduce you to my pet clam, Clem! Say 'hi' to the folks, Clem!" His Clem-ness says, "Hi, dearies. I don'a gotsa no lira, so do'na put yur tax on'a me! Just enjoy me as I am in all'a my glory, thank a'you!"

I have to think back then the analogical correspondence between the word and the thing itself was a lot tighter; a lot more intimate. The name intimated so much more of the named. And the namer. Not like now.

Could we get that back? The whole creation groans for it, I think. I know I do. Don't you?

What's in a name? Plenty. A clam by any other name would still smell pretty fishy.

"And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch."

Who gave the disciples their new name, anyway? Did the disciples name themselves? Or did the Antiochian community get to name them? I think others named them, and it stuck. So we're stuck with it too?

What's identification for, anyway? Cognitive shorthand? What is the relationship/connection between what they were called and who they were? Which defined which? And what *was* the definition of Christian, then? Whose was it? What did that word/name "Christian" mean? Believer/follower of Christ? A Christ-one? Did the name do the subject justice? As a genus? As a specie? As an individual? As a family? Did anyone do the name justice? Has anyone?

So what does "Christian" mean now? A believer/follower of Jesus? What's the defining characteristic, now, that qualifies someone for that name/title these days? These post-Chalcedon, post-Dort, post-Trent, post-Chicago, post-modern days? Who gets to say? Who knows? And what difference does it make, anymore? And for whose sake?

A Christian by any other name would still not smell like a clam. Or a rose, for that matter. What *does* a Christian smell like, anyway? Teen Spirit?

Who I am is one thing. *Whose* I am is another. Whose *you* think I am is yet another. Who do you say that I am? Who do I smell like to you? Are you sure you got a good whiff? Here... come a little closer... wait, not too close. Yeah... come closer a little further away. Because it matters to me. Because you matter.

Say my name, say my name... You priest me. One way or the other. It's your calling. And I you. It's our mutual oblation, our heave offering on the one hand and our thank offering on the other, unto the Name that is above every name who calls us each by name, and gives us his own name (whatever that means), whose Name is as ointment poured forth. Like the rest of us. We all matter.

"To be, or not to be?"

To be? Or to do?

Do-be do-be do...

Just don't call me late for dinner. It smells very good. So do you.

Fe-fi-fo-fum...

Until the day when the Accuser is cast down...

Got glue?

Always, all ways yours,
~His Ricky-ness