A sermon for the congregation of St. Stephen, Summerland
Sunday, October 18th, 2026 | The Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost
The Very Rev. Ken Gray
Names are important. I like to be called by my name and I expect you do also. I have no idea why I am named Kenneth John. Kenneth Reid lived across the street from my childhood home. No connection there; he was a most uninteresting character. There are no “Johns” in my family lineage. No influence, actual or implied either. But I am, so named.
Our new grandson in named Jack, a straight forward single-syllable name. Easy to remember, and to me, he looks like a “Jack.” Decided many weeks before birth Kathie actually guessed it before he was born. And I love it. It’s slightly comic; easily variable — Jacko, Jumpin’ Jack, Jack-in-the-box, and other derivatives — it’s a name every elementary school teacher can pronounce and spell.
In both church and community circles I try to remember names of people I meet. I can often recall complex stories about my interlocuters, but lately, find it harder to remember their names. Short-term memory is preparing for vacation it seems. Most people are rightly proud of their names and are flattered when I remember them correctly. Names are identifiers. To a greater of lesser extent they convey history, character, passions, and promise. Names codify the unique personality and heritage of the individual within the broader community. This is especially true with Indigenous names.
For instance, meet Carey Newman, who was recently given the traditional name Nutlease. He is a multi-disciplinary artist, carver, filmmaker, author and public speaker. Through his father, he is Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw and Coast Salish. On his mother’s side, his ancestors are English, Irish, and Scottish Settlers.
You may be familiar with perhaps his most influential work, The Witness Blanket, made of items collected from residential schools, government buildings and churches across Canada, deals with the subject of Truth and Reconciliation. It is now part of the collection at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights.
Carey’s sister, the Canadian Mezzo Soprano and CBC Radio Saturday Afternoon at the Opera host tells the story of Carey’s new name. “My brother, Carey, was recently part of a ceremony to have a name placed on him, not just placed, but for him to accept the name Nutlease, one of our most important ancestors. Nutlease was an ancestor who brought about peace in our regions and who also really encouraged art and a different way of society to live more easily and with more grace and beauty. It’s a name that my uncle Edwin held for a long time. He did so much good under that name with laws in Canada, with the justice system for Indigenous people, just being such an upstanding citizen for us all to look up to . . . So much movement that has placed us in society as normal people has come through him. And now that name was placed on his son, Earl, as a placeholder. And Earl has handed it on to my brother, Carrie. So Carrie is now Nutlease.”
That is such an interesting story. It has me think of my own story; and also what I know of yours. If there is a name, there is often a story, a transformative story worthy of respect and of telling and re-telling. Our biblical inspiration comes through stories. I remember asking my Hebrew professor at seminary why he loves the Old Testament. His answer was simple. It’s the stories of the biblical characters that captivates him. We know these stories initially by name only, until we listen to and digest them. From Exodus (33:12-23) we hear of God’s name and of our names:
“Yet you have said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favour in my sight.’ Now if I have found favour in your sight, show me your ways, so that I may know you and find favour in your sight.” This text is the basis of the song I now want to lead:
I can think of no better way to digest this text than a SERMON IN SONG, (MV 161) written by a guy I met years ago at a Hymn Society Convention in Minnesota:
I have called you by your name, you are mine;
I have gifted you and ask you now to shine.
I will not abandon you;
all my promises are true.
You are gifted, called, and chosen; you are mine.
I will help you learn my name as you go;
read it written in my people, help them grow.
Pour the water in my name,
speak the word your soul can claim,
offer Jesus’ body, given long ago.
I know you will need my touch as you go;
feel it pulsing in creation’s ebb and flow.
Like the woman reaching out,
choosing faith in spite of doubt,
hold the hem of Jesus’ robe, then let it go.
I have given you a name, it is mine;
I have given you my Spirit as a sign.
With my wonder in your soul,
make my wounded children whole;
go and tell my precious people they are mine.
So what names might we take from this text, for ourselves, names which convey the relationship we and our ancestors know and love with our Creator. How about:
Wonder in my soul
Precious in God’s love
Named for the One who created me
I am invited to shine
Gifted, called, and chosen
Feel free to add your own; share them here and everywhere. Then — and here’s the fun part — live into them. Blessings friends on your journey.
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