Sunday, April 20, 2014
In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet, agonizing over the conflict between her family and Romeo’s utters the phrase, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I take it that Juliet is declaring Romeo as her love and not as an enemy, simply because her family hated those who shared his last name. The Bard may have had a sense of humor in this phrase as well; some folks note that the rival theatre to the Globe, in Shakespeare’s day, was a theater called the Rose. More, the Rose supposedly had foul, awful sanitation, a fact which could be detected by human noses from some distance! So, Shakespeare may have been poking fun at the rival by writing of that which we call a rose by any other name smelling just as sweet! So, what’s in a name? What’s in your name? Where did it come from? Some may have been given names with a connection to family history. My youngest son’s middle name is “Pierce”. I don’t know where it came from but it’s been a middle name of men on the paternal side of my family for several generations. Others may have been given a name from the maternal side of their family. My middle name is Ford after my mother’s family. And, I suspect we’ve all called by different names in our families for different reasons. For some hearing their full name called out might bring a shiver to the spine, recalling a childhood when that name’s usage meant you were in trouble, with a capital T!
Easter Sunrise Service Message from Rev. Susan Norman Vickers
hen I was growing up, the church was not just the place where I went to Sunday School and worship; it was also the place where I often went to play. You see, my church had the tallest and the best swing set around--and as a child--and even still as an adult--I love to swing on the swing set.
o get to the swingset, I had to walk from my house less than half a mile to the church, cross Robin Hood Road to the church property, go to the left side of the church toward the cemetery, and then I’d walk down the sidewalk in the cemetery past the graves and headstones for long-time Mt. Tabor family members like the Laniers, and the Beauchamps, and the Alspaughs and the Sapps. I would turn off the sidewalk and walk the path past the headstone commemorating the many persons--mostly African Americans--who were buried in the cemetery who had no individual markers. Just down the path and to the right was the swingset I loved.