Tag: Jesus

The Garden of Naming

[Note: I first published this blog post on June 21, 2011 on my old blog, and am reposting it here with slight edits.]

Perhaps the most powerful thing in the world that anyone can ever do is to name something. To choose a word to sum up. With a few syllables, names can stick, they can both describe and determine identities. Think how powerful these words can be: Beautiful. Hero. Messiah.

Or: Ugly. Failure. Disappointment.

In the Old Testament, names were incredibly important, and a change of name marked a change of identity. Abram became Abraham. Jacob became Israel. God, while having many names and characteristics in the Bible, is often referred to by modern Jews as “Ha-shem,” or “The Name.” God’s name is considered by them as too holy to even say. Maybe they grasp a truth that Christians don’t…


In the Garden of Eden, the first man Adam was given the job of naming the all animals. Whatever he called them, that was its name. Its identity. As God had created Adam and had named him, now Adam was doing the same. This is a powerful image, Adam fulfilling his destiny as a lord over the earth and co-creator with God. (Check out my previous blog “Red” for more analysis on the meaning behind Adam’s name).


Maybe it has something to do with gardening. Recently, I think I’ve finally begun to understand its allure. I had never cared much about tending to plants before, and tasks like weeding and watering seemed dull and pointless. Why grow plants for beauty? Or even food (which I’ve yet to attempt)? It always seemed too much effort, for little gain.


But I’ve revised my opinion lately. I have had more free time this summer, and I’ve surprised myself by willingly going out to clear weeds, trim back plants, mow grass, etc. I’ve found I enjoy seeing the results of my work, being outside, and being in touch with nature. I don’t understand exactly why this joy exists. But it fits in with what it seems human existence is about: it’s part of that co-creating for which the original humans were created.


Now, if the connection I made between naming and gardening were an isolated connection, you could write me off (you always can, actually). But I see at least two other examples in the Bible where these two meet. At the end of the book of John, we find Mary Magdalene weeping in front of Jesus’ empty tomb, wondering where his body is. Once again, we’re in a garden. Jesus comes behind her and asks her what’s wrong. She thinks he is the gardener. Jesus calls her by name, saying, “Mary.” And that’s all that’s required for her to realize that he’s Jesus. In shock and in joy, Mary replies in her own language of Aramaic, “My teacher!”

The Garden Tomb's story
The “Garden Tomb,” one of the possible sites where Jesus may have been buried.


Are you getting this symbolism? It blew me away when I saw it. Jesus is the “new Adam” the firstborn of a new race of humans: those who are perfect, forgiven, and who have eternal life (1 Corinthians 15:20-28). So where do we see this new Adam? In a garden, of course! And what is the first thing this new Adam does? He calls Mary by name, and she responds. I can imagine him saying it full of love, and Mary rushing to embrace him. Thus God’s new order begins, as the first one did, in a Garden of Naming.

But this is just the beginning. The garden motif is consummated in the prophetic book of Revelation, which describes the final destruction of evil and the marriage of heaven and earth. In the last chapter the author of Revelation describes the ultimate city of God, where He lives with all of his people on Earth. This eternal paradise has a river, fruit trees, and a tree of life. Sound familiar? That’s because this is the same description as for the Garden of Eden. Eden has finally returned, it’s back, and it’s been completely redeemed from sin. And guess what? Every single person in this city of New Jerusalem has the name of God on his or her forehead (Revelation 22:4). Their identity can only be described by using the name of God. They are now considered full children of God, bearing his name.


So there’s something special in the Bible about gardening and names and identity. The connections are tough to unravel, but they’re lively, interesting, and beautiful.

A Good Friday Historical Realization

[Written on Good Friday 2020]

I’ve been reading Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian wars, which occurred a few centuries before Jesus’ life. In reading his work, it struck me how after every single battle, the victorious army would set up a “trophy” made up of the armor, shields, and weapons of the defeated soldiers. These “trophies,” which were also usually dedicated to a god, would be erected on the battlefield as makeshift monuments displaying the power of the victors over their enemies. The Romans would continue the Greek tradition of setting up trophies in commemoration of major battles they won.

Anyway, I decided to Google “what did ancient trophies looks like”, and…well…they looked a LOT like what happens in a crucifixion! Do you see the resemblance?

All images from this link

In other words, Jesus’ death on the cross looked very similar to a trophy, the ancient militaristic symbol for a victory. This blew my mind, so I did some more research and it turns out early Christians (who actually lived under the Romans) made this connection as well. Tertullian, writing in the 2nd Century CE, said “The Cross is a trophy, a sign of…victory over death.”

Isn’t that fascinating! On Good Friday, Jesus inverts the intended cultural message of the Roman Empire’s practice of crucifixion. While the Romans wanted every crucifixion to be a public “trophy” that displayed the unlimited power and victory of their Empire against any mortal that dared resist it, through the cross Jesus actually is the one who conquers! As Paul says in Colossians 2:15, “Having disarmed the powers and authorities, he (Jesus) made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.” And as Christians believe, at the cross Jesus isn’t just conquering the Roman empire, but every power of hell, sin, and death. The irony is that in dying on Calvary, the site of Jesus’ greatest “defeat” is simultaneously the site of his greatest victory.

To put it another way, theologian Brigette Kahl writes, “Crosses and trophies are twin images in the Roman visual world of the first century CE, omnipresent as signposts of imperial power over the bodies and minds of the conquered. While crosses expose armor-less human bodies to torturous dying, … trophies are the body-less armor of an already dead enemy. Both are images of triumph and merciless retaliation against the non-compliant… Seen through the lens of the trophy, Paul’s theology of cross and justification by faith emerges as a resistant messianic counter-visualization, as the body of the crucified empowers a rebellious re-embodiment of the dis-embodied.”

There’s probably a lot more symbolism here, and if anyone is a student of ancient history or of Christianity, I welcome your input. All this to say: this yet another reason why studying history is important. Without it, we are lacking the crucial pieces of cultural context that can inform and enrich our deepest beliefs.

May everyone have a very blessed Good Friday.

Master Yoda

[I find it fascinating that a significant portion of Jesus’ teachings are in the form of parables: simple narratives used to illustrate a moral or spiritual lesson. More frequently than logical arguments, sermons, or speeches, Jesus utilizes the power of story to communicate truths to his followers. Despite that, modern Christians often prioritize logic over narrative. In order to push back against that a little bit, here is one of my past attempts to communicate a truth about God via a parable. I have titled it “Master Yoda.” ]

Master Yoda? Credit: British Library

A young Jedi Knight once sent a request for a meeting with Master Yoda. Master Yoda sent back a message– “Meditating, I am, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.” Not wishing to disturb, the young Jedi waited. The next day, he sent the same request. This time, Yoda replied: “In the training room, I am.” The next day, the young Jedi sent his request a third time. This time, Yoda wrote: “Eating in the cafeteria, I am.” Annoyed at Master Yoda for dodging his request, the young Jedi Knight gave up.

Weeks later, the same young Jedi ran into Yoda in the Main Atrium. Yoda asked him why they had never had a meeting. Exasperated, the young man cried out, “Because you always had an excuse! You never made time for me.” Yoda slowly shook his head. “My child, sadly mistaken you are. My heart was to see you, and I told you where to find me. Wanted you to join me, I did. Sad was I, when you never showed.”

Whoever who has ears to hear, let them hear.