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The cost of consultation was going to be considerably more than my hen was worth. “But it must see a vet,” the receptionist insisted. “What’s its name?” “Name?” I said. “She’s a chicken. She lives at the bottom of the garden and lays eggs.” So she entered her name as “Chicken” ... and I nursed her back to health myself. Perhaps if she’d been named – like our cats or dog – I might not have done such a cold-blooded calculation. Farmers soon learn the folly of naming animals bound for slaughter. Now that we name our storms, the Met Office reports, we take much more notice of them. I love winds and tempests... but I’m not at all pleased with Doris, who has smashed up our lovely huge summer parasol and tossed several garden cushions over the wall. Obviously inconsequential compared to others’ loss: knowing her name couldn’t prevent all the devastating damage, and tragically even a death. Never was girl more mistaken than Juliet in claiming a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Had Romeo not been a Montague or she not a Capulet, their married bliss would have too boring to tell. When our daughter was extremely ill she briefly adopted a name with several negative associations for her, which I found heartbreakingly significant. Naming has come full circle: as in the Middle Ages, we use personal names again, distinguished by circumstance or skill. My telephone has numerous entries such as Anna from Kidlington or Robbie the Roofer. The importance of naming is evident from the earliest account of humanity. Man needed a companion so God brought him the animals for naming. But there being no equal for him, God made another human being, alike but unalike. Yes! said Man delightedly, and called her Woman because they were flesh of one flesh. Sharing the same name on marriage still signifies becoming one flesh again. Naming brings relationship. The stripping of names in concentration camps stripped inmates of human status. In cultures of high infant mortality it’s known not to name a child until survival seems secure. Perhaps loss feels easier to bear if it’s not of a named person? By contrast, a Christian tradition was to baptise sickly infants as a matter of urgency, so the child would be not only remembered by name, but forever a living member of the Christian family. The Teacher Jesus asked his friends what people were calling Him. Some gave names of past heroes: John the Baptist or even Elijah. It was Peter, renamed by Jesus Himself as the rock, who recognised Him as the Messiah. Names create connections. The much loved child has many names. Allah has ninety nine, the God of the Jews a name too sacred to write and Christians are so called after the one we recognise as Lord and Saviour. To know my name is to know me, not just my colour or sex or country. To call me by name is to use the most personal aspect of my identity: an act of intimacy in itself.