I looked around and the woman next to me smiled. Oh, it's not you Joy. It's the other Joy. I would smile at her too, sometimes a frown creasing my brow. I shouldn't be surprised. Every time someone confuses me with the other "Joy", I can't help but think: Okay, I have the most common name in the world, next to Mohammed. I would have loved to be called Samantha, or Cassandra, or Bernadette. They sounded so pretty and feminine to the ears. Only I was given a name before I could have a say in whether I liked it or not.
It was your father. Mama would tell me. But it's too short! I would complain stubbornly. Though how hard I complain, my name's still my name. My father called it practicality. His reason was ridiculous. I laughed at it when Mama said: Your tatay thought you won't be smart enough to memorize your name when you grow up. He said you won't have a hard time practicing how to write your name. My kuya and the one next to me share the same dilemma but I don't hear them make a fuss over their names. Father was wrong. I have grown-up too smart to miss those three-letter names he gave me. I wish I had been named differently.
At school, I envied those who owned longer names. I always looked up to them as the rich. They could afford two names! And I hate the loops in my j and y. I had to overdo them to make up for the short name and then it annoyed me when they overlapped the next line below. Then some of my classmates would ask why on earth I am named after the shortest abstract word. They sounded as if I had hidden my other name inside my sleeves. My father couldn't have done much better. Conventionally, such names as mine should be paired up to make it sound nice like Mary Joy or April Joy. But Father isn't a conventional man. Maraming arte! The simplest, the better. That's his ideology. But it was worst in the older times, some would say when children were named after an almanac. It's not that there is something wrong with that system but I'd die if father had named me Tampulana.
Then came the revolutionizing of my name. In college, I recall a classmate who habitually called me Joyce. In my Friendster account, I put on the French JOIE (read as ʒwa). The next time I knew, a friend really thought of it as my real name. It is but only in French. When I visited my account again, I changed my profile name to my real name. I could not pretend to be Joie when I am Joy. Silly, but they do mean the same thing. Ligaya too. But I ain't Ligaya. I am Joy as well as Ate Joy, Joya, Joyaks, Joyu, Joyeng, and Joyi. The vowels are almost present like stubborn suffixes they have to fill out the so short word only making it sound like a slumgullion.
Okay, I admit it. My yearning for an upgraded name has shown some shallowness in me. So what if I am named after a name nobody wants to get? It isn't like a crime to possess a name like mine. After all, I am named after a pretty noun. Maybe what's bothering me is the fact that I cannot stand up for what I am named for. I am afraid I haven't so much happiness in my spirit. But you are not what you are named. Others who believe the opposite of it may be hanging on to some philosophical bogus I refuse to believe.
However, in biblical times, a Hebrew name was attached with much greater significance. A name was not a label to distinguish a person from another but it was equivalent to the person himself.* The name defined the person who bore it. The person's character was revealed by his name. Take the name of Jesus for instance. According to the Bible, several men were named Jesus. But the most famous of whom we know as Christ or the Messiah. In the Old Testament, this Jesus promised to Israel to be their King. He was called by many names (and titles) - Son of Man, Emmanuel, The Lamb of God, The Rock, The True Vine, Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace, The High Priest, and so on. This same Jesus who was in the foundation of the world (1Peter 1:20) and the One who will come again to bring justice to the whole world (Jeremiah 25:31). He was offered once and for all as a sacrifice to the Lord for the remission of our sins that all who believe in Him shall have the right to be called children of God. On the cross, He showed His great love to the lost humankind. By His death, we can have the right to eternal life.
Looking at Jesus and knowing what He had done for me, I can easily equate His name to the four-letter abstract word we are all very much familiar with - the word LOVE. For God is love (1John4:8). No word is more fitting to define Him. Yes, Jesus, the Great Lover. Above all, He is the epitome of an obedient son. He sought to please His father (Matthew 26:39). Knowing that and reflecting on the "crisis" I'm facing, I realize I have so much to be ashamed of. I may not understand my father's intention but I hope I am a joy to him and most importantly to the Father above.
Jesus is the real joy-giver. Recalling Blaise Pascal's encounter with God, he wrote in the liner of his coat how the Lord had given him "Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy." Only with Jesus can we truly find real joy in life. And as God has given us the right to be called His children, let us strive to please Him through faith and obedience to His words. We can be assured of Him. He is ever faithful to keep His promises. His name is our surety that everything we ask the Father in His name, He will do it ( John 14:13-14). His name shall be exalted. For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same, my name shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure offering: for my name shall be great among the heathen, saith the LORD of hosts (Malachi 1:11)**. That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth. (Philippians 2:10)**
Joy Tumale! The
releasing officer in the NBI department called my name. I was glad my clearance
had been released that very day I filed for an NBI Clearance. I heard those in
my queue return weeks later for their clearances. Their names had been hit. I
know what that meant. I smiled to myself. Maybe father was right after all.
