I didn’t doubt that “Theresa” was the name that she had taken in order to make interaction with others easier, rather I wondered if that was the name that she had been given.  There’s a difference.  St. Paul says that the name Jesus is the name that is “above every name”.  Yet it was a common name.  Aramaic for Joshua.  What makes the name Jesus great is all that is contained within His name; the multi-layered levels of meaning and power and possibility.  That is kind of how I think of the name that Theresa gave me—that there was SO much more hidden, above and beyond. As I stood there mystified and mesmerized she turned her attention to Brenda. “And what is your name?”, she asked.  There it was again.  The asking of the name.  To do so is to recognize another person’s humanity and worth.  It is to give value to the “other” as a person who has value. “I’m Brenda”. “Oh Brenda, you’re a hard worker!  You work too hard.  You are like a teacher or someone who gives a lot to others.  You have wisdom to share.” It was as if Theresa knew Brenda.  Indeed Brenda is a hard worker, and is like a teacher.  She is a chaplain for hospice and is in the process of launching a mobile ministry for the purpose of providing comfort to those people and communities that are ravaged by disasters, whether natural or man-made. “You need to write a book”, Theresa continued.  “And in this book you’ll have one sentence on each page.  Just one.  This is how you’ll share your wisdom.  And you’ll publish it and put it on Amazon.” Here was not only a recognition of the wisdom Brenda has to share, but also a prescription for her to do so.  I was mildly stunned. And then Theresa turned back to me.  I expected her to give me the churchy sales pitch—to invite me to stay for service or speak with the pastor or to join in whatever activity they were offering that day.  But she didn’t.  She had no agenda other than to engage with me on a deeply meaningful way.  We shared a brief hug, I believe I thanked her, and she passed through the open doors into the sanctuary and sat down by herself in the back pew.  And that was it. Brenda walked out the doors of the church toward the street.  I walked to the coffee table and poured two cups and joined her.  And we were silent for a time, attempting to take in what had just happened.  I was a bit numb and tingly.  I felt as if I was experiencing a spiritual endorphin rush.  The simultaneous thrill and chill. And then we talked and walked and shared our mutual impressions.  There were many questions that we had, such as “What just happened?”, and “How did she know that about us?”  But the most compelling was, “Who was that?” You know how, when you have a very vivid dream it haunts you the rest of the day?  No matter how hard you may try you continue to reflect upon it?  That’s what it was like for the rest of the day.  No matter what else I was doing I was distracted by thoughts of Theresa. As I write this two days later I can still see her, and hear her, and yes, feel her.  This one who had to know me.  And who I believe I know also. I could, I suppose, pass this off as a chance encounter with an overly zealous woman that might appear to be to the casual observer a bit “un-hinged”.  But I am convinced, not by my intellect but by my spiritual intuition, that this was something much more.  It was a divine encounter with, at the very least, a person who is very in tune with the divine.  I believe there’s much more to it and her, but certainly nothing less. As we prepare to flip the calendar to a new year and decade, perhaps a good resolution is to be more open and aware of how God is working in, with and among us, and to be able and willing to recognize him—or her– when it happens.