Guest blogger Jessica Rutkosky, graduated with an M.A. in Theology from Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary in May 2013. She is an adjunct professor at FPU. She has twice taught the online version of Discipleship and Ethics and regularly teaches in FPU’s Degree Completion Program. She blogs at: http://www.musingsofatheologist.com/blog
Part One: Parenting: Naming in my living room
My 10-year-old stepdaughter started 5th grade several days ago. Towards the end of her 4th grade year, and over the summer, she’d been struggling with some of her friendships; a struggle exacerbated by COVID and confounded by social media.
In general, she’s beginning to encounter the challenges that come with all relationships—communication, reciprocity, and rejection. But more specifically, she’s becoming acquainted with how fleeting relationships can be at this age, how venomous girls can be, and how exhausting keeping up with the “young” Joneses is.
Despite our best attempts, my stepdaughter is consumed by the latest trends, as these are an indication of popularity; a societal benchmark she’s learned all too young.
Yet, at the core, it’s really her desire for acceptance that consumes her. She wants to be part of the group that has everything—looks, clothes, big houses, and fashionable lip gloss—because this is a confirmation of her own status and belonging.
For a long time, my husband and I have lamented this. Together, we’ve tried to figure out how to expose these superficial forces and shallow friendships that have such a hold on her, and which are preventing her from being her.
The opportunity came last night.
In a moment of intense vulnerability, she became an emotional hydrant, sharing everything she was feeling and thinking. She shared how she was turning into someone she didn’t like, all in an effort to gain the approval of the “popular” girls. She expressed how exhausting it was to try to “keep up with them,” and yet how jealous she still was of them. She revealed how poorly they’d treated her, yet how rejected she still felt that they didn’t want to be her friends.
My husband and I sat with her as tears poured from her eyes, with the same intensity and rapidity as the revelations about self and relationships were hitting her. We validated how painful this all must be, how rejection hurts, and how devastating it can feel when we’re confronted with our own ugliness.
While my husband got up to let the cat in, I asked her, “What makes you the feel the saddest?” She responded, “They don’t get to see the deep parts of me.”
I sat in awe of perhaps the most profound revelation yet. I was amazed at how quickly she identified precisely what she was feeling, and how candidly, and courageously, she shared.
Vulnerability has a way of opening us up to truth. And my husband capitalized on this.
For the most part, I sat on the sidelines, witnessing this beautiful naming moment.
He affirmed that we saw, understood, and loved the deep parts of her; that we know her to be the intelligent, funny, quirky, loving girl that she is; that we know the sweetness and kindness that’s core to her identity; that we accept her. He then counseled her that true, healthy friends, will see this too; that they will understand and love her deep parts just like we do. She just needs to let them see it, because hiding them is such a loss for her and others.
We’d all been in the emotional depths for a while, and my stepdaughter, needing to surface, brought some levity by sharing a funny story.
Later that night, my husband and I celebrated this victory.
Part Two: Naming in the Bible: Individual and Communal
Though I’ve been teaching the letter to Philemon for almost 6 years, I never connected “naming” to the events that transpire in the letter. Yet, this is the very thing that’s happening.
In Bible courses for FPU’s Degree Completion Program, I guide my students through the historical and literary contexts of the letter, in the hopes that this investigative work will lead to a richer understanding of Paul’s petition. In these conversations, we talk a lot about “story.” Specifically, how Paul uses the Jesus story to challenge the story of Roman society, as it relates to the identities of the individuals in the letter. That is true, however, “naming” seems an even more apt description of what Paul is doing. In fact, Paul directly names Onesimus in the letter, “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother” (v. 16). Paul further “names” Onesimus, calling him “my child” (v. 10), “useful” (v. 11), and “my own heart” (v. 12). All of these descriptions counteract how Roman society had “un-named” Onesimus. Paul was a “Namer,” Roman society the echthroi.
The Roman echthroi had branded Onesimus as “useless” and merely a “slave.” His identity was wrapped up in these labels. Not only did Onesimus believe this, but Philemon as well, and quite possibly, the church that met in Philemon’s home. When Paul names Onesimus, it’s for all to hear. It’s not just for Onesimus’ sake. What’s fascinating about naming is that it’s simultaneously for the individual and the community. Onesimus needed to be named in order to become a part of the Christian community that awaited upon his return. The Christian community needed to hear this in order to embrace Onesimus, and continuously remind him, and themselves, of their cross-centered identities. They were all brothers and sisters, partners, and coworkers, united in Christ, unphased by the status and rank of Roman society.
In the letter, Paul models what it means to be a “Namer,” in the hopes that the church will continue naming in his stead