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p/c ‘Costae,’ Marketa Klimasova, public domain image via wikimedia commons
This week I want to consider a lie, a kind of perfidious falsehood which settles like fallout on those who believe its speech, that runs something like “Do I belong in this church? There’s no one else like me here…”
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“What is naming?” Walker Percy asks. “Is it an event which we can study as we study other events in natural history, such as solar eclipses, glandular secretions, nuclear fusion, stimulus-response sequences?”
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“Hey you, weirdo!” A stranger hails me.
“My name’s Mark., and don’t call me ‘weirdo’.” I say in response, trying to reclaim my own autonomy. I choose what I am called. I am the namer of me, not this stranger. If I give him the power to name me, to hail me thus, I feel like I forfeit some power. By calling me this way, he enacts a superior position.
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