The Art of Naming

[Keeping the Darkness at Bay, Part Three]

In last week’s Keeping the Darkness at Bay, we looked at A Wrinkle in Time for inspiration, and I concluded that Meg’s victory against the IT should incite us to fight in the same way—with unconditional love.

But, let’s be real: Everyone knows about love. Most people know about love’s power, and in general agree that the world needs love. We say things like,

“Why can’t we all just get along?”

“If we love each other, all our problems will be solved…”

“I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family…”

But it’s time for some Real Talk: Most of us want love and claim to have love yet don’t know how to love.

We know that love is the answer. The “what” is love. Today, I turn to the “how.”

Most of us, even if we never read it, have heard of Madeline L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. For this musing, I’m shifting focus to the lesser-known, even-weirder sequel, A Wind in the Door.

Things start relatively normal. Charles Wallace, the genius-but-awkward little brother, is bullied in school, and the elementary school principle won’t do anything to help. Meg, the lead-protagonist and older sister, wants to do something. Meg’s BFF Calvin wants to help. Charles Wallace claims to have seen dragons. And Charles Wallace is getting sick, and the doctors don’t know what’s wrong.

But our heroes and their microbiologist mother know what’s up pretty early on. It’s his mitochondria. Specifically, the farandolae within his mitochondria.

Confused yet?

Many of us may remember mitochondria from middle school science class in the cell biology lesson. Due to the circulation of mitochondria-related memes, your memory may have been recently refreshed of the simple definition: “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

According to L’Engle’s fiction-science, the farandolae are things within the mitochondria that keep them alive.

But, what does this have to do with love? What does this have to do with “Keeping the Darkness at Bay”? According to L’Engle, EVERYTHING.

Everything’s connected, and everything we do affects everything else, at both the microscopic and macroscopic level.

Still confused? So are the characters for the majority of the book.

But things are explained by a mysterious teacher named Blajeny. He recruits Meg and Calvin, along with Progonoskis (the “single cherubim” that Charles Wallace had mistaken for dragons). See, every farandolae, every mitochondrion, every human, every planet, every star, and every galaxy all have the same enemy: the Echthroi.

The Echthroi, a more specific extension of Wrinkle’s vaguely-named “Black Thing”, are evil creatures bent on destruction. They “X” people, as in extinguish or annihilate. Through X-ing, the Echthroi seek to undo creation, remove the connections between people, and perpetuate the chaos of nothingness.

In A Wind in the Door, the Echthroi is the darkness to be resisted. So how do our heroes succeed? And why should it matter to us in the real world?

The answers arrive in one of the book’s best scenes.

The Naming of Mr. Jenkins

Blajeny tells the crew about the Echthroi, and Meg and Calvin are eager to team up with Progonoskes to fight the Echthroi and save Charles Wallace. But before they can, Blajeny tells Meg that first she needs to pass three tests, so she’ll have the skills to save her brother.

For her first test: Save Mr. Jenkins from the Echthroi.

When she confronts him, there are three Mr. Jenkinses. Two of them are Echthroi, one is real. And if Meg can’t figure out the difference and defeat the fake Mr. Jenkinses, he will be X-ed.

But why? What does Mr. Jenkins have to do with Charles Wallace’s mitochondria? Why should she waste time with this principle when he’s done nothing to help Charles Wallace, doesn’t care that Charles Wallace has been bullied mercilessly, and dislikes Meg from the time he was principle at the high school?

But Meg decides to help for Charles’ sake, and the lesson she learns is even deeper than what she learned on Camazotz in Wrinkle when she saved him from the IT.

You see, with the cherubim’s help, Meg must “name” Mr. Jenkins. Progonoskes explains that the only way to counter an Echthros X-ing someone is to name that person. As the opposite of X-ing, naming is to call forth a person’s identity.

X-ing goes deeper than death. When the Echthroi X, they take away a person’s uniqueness—one’s personality, dreams, ambitions, everything. In this light, naming is the opposite: When you name someone, you remind them of what makes them human, what makes them special, what makes them unique and beautiful in connection with the rest of creation.

And, as Progonoskes points out to Meg, the secret to successful “naming” is love.

Therein lies the problem: Meg hates Mr. Jenkins. How can she name him? How can she love him? All she knows about Mr. Jenkins is bad. What can she possibly say to name him, to call forth his humanity, his beautiful identity?

After an interrogation of the three, she sees that they all have Mr. Jenkins’ exterior traits, but the one she chooses to love, the one she names—he is the one who’s human. The one more complicated than a stereotypical mean principle. One who’s scared, emotional, nuanced, authentic.

She sees her principle in a new light, calls forth his identity, and learns to love her enemy.

“Bad as Mr. Jenkins is, he’s the only one of the three of you who’s human enough to make as many mistakes as he does, and that’s you, Mr. Jenkins One… And I do love you for it.”

I’m convinced that this idea of “naming” is what Jesus meant when he said “Love your enemies.” When we’re fighting the Echthroi in everyday life, when we’re “keeping the darkness at bay,” the way we love is to name.

The “how” of love, the method of fighting evil and living as a hero, is to name others—to call forth their true human identities, their best selves, the people they’re designed to be. X-ing enslaves people to conformity, fear, and selfishness.

The Echthroi advertise freedom but give chaos, and separate people from their identities and isolate them from the community that connects their true selves to others.

So yes, “Love” is the answer. But love isn’t a fluid, ambiguous term. Love isn’t a good concept but ultimately too murky to be readily applicable in real life. Love is an action, a choice.

To love is to give, to connect, to encourage, to deepen with others. At its core, to love is to name.

Who do you need to name?