Most Reverend Jerome E. Listecki
Archbishop of Milwaukee
How we use the name of a person is important. The form someone uses to address you often indicates the level of familiarity and personal knowledge he or she possesses about you.
Recently, I received a brochure with my name on the cover. “Jerome” it boldly stated. I thought, “Wow! They know me,” but then it went on to say, “Here’s the perfect Christmas gift to celebrate your special bond with your daughter.”
I didn’t know I had a daughter, but I certainly would want to celebrate that bond – that is, if I had a daughter. This postal delivery gets filed next to the one that urged me to buy a diamond for my wife to demonstrate the love I have for her. Needless to say, she’s still waiting.
Then, there was the advertisement addressed to Mrs. Jerome Listecki, wondering whether or not it was time to remodel the kitchen to accommodate the needs of a growing family. My mother, the real Mrs. Listecki, passed away in 2002, God rest her soul, and she did just fine with the old kitchen that was part of my home.
Obviously, these are just some examples of people who express themselves as familiar with me, but who in reality know little, if anything, about me.
The use of a name is interesting. The greatest familiarity might be expressed by the sales person who needs to make a sale, “Jerry, my good friend.” My good friend??? I don’t know you and probably will never encounter you again after I pay my bill for whatever article you’re pushing.
A name often reflects the level of a relationship. I know one family where several members are all named John. The father is John, the son is Johnny and the cousin is Jack. The family honors the distinction and is quickly recognized by other members of the family.
In my own family, I am referred to as Jerome (never Jerry or Jer). It was only post-1974 that I suddenly was referred to as Jerry, Deacon Jerry, Father Jerry and even Bishop Jerry. I did retain the name Jerome after my episcopal ordination when Cardinal George declared we already have a Bishop Jerry in our archdiocese -- Bishop Gerald Kicanas (now bishop of Tucson Arizona), so he said to me, “For us, you will be Bishop Jerome.”
It’s interesting to note that as I travel south on 94/294 down to and including Kenosha, I am Archbishop Listecki, but as I cross into Lake County, Ill., I become Bishop Jerry. Then a little further, I turn into Father Jerry; until the southwest suburb of Chicago, where I revert to Deacon Jerry; then finally, Jerome at home (nice rhyme).
I am often asked what I like to be called. I readily answer Jerome or Jerry, but that is often too difficult for some. They view it as disrespectful to the Office of the Archbishop. They want me to respond to Archbishop, Bishop, Excellency or Your Grace. I understand the difficulty. There are some priests who were my seminary profs and, although they are very kind and often tell me to call them by their first name, I will often respond “Thank you, Monsignor (or Father).” It’s hard to break habits.
I know when persons are using my name in a familiar way, claiming an association they do not possess. Sometimes they use the familiar to be disrespectful to the office. Others are ignorant of the title associated with the Office of the Archbishop, like when I am referred to as Mr. Archbishop or Mr. Bishop.
The name of Jesus should bring a bow of the head, but is often used as an expletive (Jesus Christ!) instead of respect. Even in letters I have received from confirmation candidates, “god” is often not capitalized (God). Yet, what name deserves to be recognized as set apart and above all others than God?
The use of a name depicts a special relationship that is wrapped in shared experiences. It marks family, friendship and deep relationships, as well as our attempt to LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
Note: This blog originally appeared as the November 17, 2015 "Love One Another" email sent to Catholics throughout the Archdiocese of Milwaukee by Archbishop Jerome E. Listecki. If you are interested in signing up for these email messages, please click here.