When The Oxford Dictionary of English Christian Names (Third Edition) by E.G. Withycombe was recommended by a fellow name nut, I promptly headed over to Amazon to check it out and discovered all sorts of inexpensive options. The one I bought for $1.55 used to be in the Pasadena City College Library and has a big red “Discarded” stamp on it, which makes me love my copy even more.

It’s an awesome book, for a few different reasons:

(1) It provides commentary on each name, which is my favorite feature of any name book. Most of the time in this book it’s just the etymology and history of the name, which I find endlessly fascinating (e.g., “Egbert (m.): compound of Old English ecg ‘sword’, and beorht ‘bright’, the name of the traditional first King of all England (died 839) and of a Northumbrian saint (639-729). It seems not to have survived the Old English period, but was revived in the 19th C”), but sometimes it provides the author’s opinion, which often comes across as somewhat condescending, especially where Americans are concerned, and which I find endlessly amusing. For example, “Shirley (f): this is apparently a surname (derived from a place-name) used as a christian name. The first example noted is the heroine of Charlotte Bronte’s novel Shirley (1849), who, as an only child and an heiress, was given ‘the masculine cognomen’ Shirley, a family name. I have found no clue to the modern prevalence of Shirley as a christian name in the Southern States of USA. It has now become a common name in England, owing to the number of children named after the child film-star, Shirley Temple”. Another example is the pronunciation of Anthony: “The intrusive h in the spelling Anthony was a late development, and seems not to appear before the late16th C … the h is, of course, silent, but there is some danger nowadays of a spelling pronunciation (already in use in USA), and the older spelling is to be preferred.” Oh those stupid Americans and their “Anthony”! Another condescending example: “Dawn (f.): the use of this as a christian name is a 20th-C invention of novelette writers, which has sometimes been adopted in real life.” (I feel like it’s obvious, in just those few words, what E.G. thinks of novelette writers, and of those who have decided to use the name Dawn in real life.)

(2) It provides a British perspective, which is entertaining in its unfamiliarity. The example of Shirley above and its prevalence in the “Southern States of USA” is one, and the author’s habit of pointing out which families in England use certain names is another (e.g., re: Aretas, “The daughter of Aretas Seton, Governor of the Leeward Islands, married at the beginning of the 18th C Edmund Akers, ancestor of the present Lord Childston, and from that time the name has been in regular use in the Akers (now Akers-Douglas) family”). I also love reading how certain surnames arose from first names (e.g., “Brice (m.): St. Britius or Brice, Bishop of Tours 444, was responsible for the vogue of this name in England and France in the Middle Ages. It is probably of Celtic origin. Brice and the diminutive Bricot were fairly common in England in the 13th and 14th C and have left traces in the surnames Brice, Bryce Bryson, Brisson, Bricot.”) It’s sort of fascinating to me to see how the author’s country’s history is so immediate to him or her (there’s no indication anywhere in the book whether E.G. is a woman or a man) — details, genealogies, stories going back centuries are as known to him/her as American history is to me, I suppose, but then my sense of my local history is so comparatively short — a couple hundred years at most.

(3) It provides an intriguing perspective of Catholicism through naming practices. For example, “Loretta (f.): a name common in Roman Catholic use, derived from Our Lady of Loreto in Italy, a famous place of pilgrimage. Lourdes is used similarly as a christian name, but usually as a second name only.” I also find really interesting the allusions to Catholic/Protestant tension, often specifically in light of the Reformation, such as with “Blase … Blase or Blaze survived the Reformation and is found occasionally in the 17th C,” “Aloysius (m.) … used in Britain only by Roman Catholics,” “Barbara (f.) … It was still fairly common in the 16th C, but, like other names of non-scriptural saints, it tended to drop out of use after the Reformation,” and “Teresa, Theresa (f.) … It is first found as Therasia, the name of the wife of St. Paulinus, Bishop of Nola in the 5th C, who was converted by her. She was a Spaniard, and the name was for many centuries confined to the Iberian peninsula … It did not spread outside the Iberian peninsula until the 16th C, when the fame of St. Teresa of Avila (1515-82) carried it into all Roman Catholic countries. In recent times the popularity of the name in such countries has been increased by St. Therese of Lisieux (1873-97). It was not much used in England until the 18th C, when it was introduced by the admirers of the Empress Maria Theresia of Austria.” And Martin:

Martin (m.): Latin Martinus, apparently a diminutive of Martius ‘of Mars‘. St. Martin of Tours was a 4th-C soldier, later Bishop of Tours and apostle of Gaul; the story of his sharing his cloak with a beggar was a favourite subject of medieval art, and St. Martin was a favourite saint in England and in France; there are over 170 churches dedicated to him in England. Martin was a common christian name from the 12th C until the Reformation, and gave rise to many surnames, e.g., Martin(s), Marten(s), Martinson, Martel (from the diminutive Mart-el), Martlet (from the diminutive Martin-et). After the 15th C the name was less common, but never fell into complete disuse. The names of the birds martin and martlet are derived from Martin (cf. French martinet ‘swift’, martin-pecheur ‘kingfisher’).

As with most books on my bookshelf, I wouldn’t use this as a sole source of info on names, but it definitely fills out my knowledge of the etymology, history, usage, and reputation of many names used in the English-speaking world, including “Catholic” names.

A friend of mine recently shared this quote from St. John Chrysostom:

“So let the name of the saints enter our homes through the naming of our children, to train not only the child but the father, when he reflects that he is the father of John or Elijah or James; for, if the name be given with forethought to pay honor to those that have departed, and we grasp at our kinship with the righteous rather than with our forebears, this too will greatly help us and our children. Do not because it is a small thing regard it as small; its purpose is to succour us.” (An Address on Vainglory and the Right Way for Parents to Bring Up Their Children)

On the one hand, I totally love and agree with the idea that naming our children after the saints will keep those saints top of mind and therefore immediately accessible as intercessors for our children and ourselves and indeed the whole family–a succor indeed. On the other hand, I’m not a huge fan of the wording, which makes it seem like if a child’s name, being a saint’s name, wasn’t given with the intention to pay honor to that saint, that it “doesn’t count”; nor that it seems St. John is saying we should choose saints’ names instead of family names, that we should value our connection to the saints more than to our own ancestors (which is not a requirement of the Catholic namer–remember that the Church only requires that parents choose a name for their children that isn’t “foreign to Christian sensibility”). We know God can work in any way He wants, that sometimes He “writes straight with crooked lines,” and I can totally see the situation where a name was lovingly chosen for a child without any sense of saintliness, perhaps in innocence on the part of the parent, but then later that very name’s connection to a saint was realized and found to be such a help to the parents who previously didn’t have a sense of such things. I also think naming a child after his or her relatives is a lovely way to thank God for the gift of one’s family. In many many cases, it needn’t be either/or–either a saint’s name or a family name–as so many traditional names that pepper family trees ARE saints’ names. Regardless, I believe St. John Chrysostom’s point is to encourage parents to use saints’ names for their children in order to increase awareness of the saints and their intercession, so that we can find help and comfort, and that is indeed a wonderful goal.

In any event, this is a perfect intro to another of the books on my bookshelf that I wanted to share with you: Dictionary of Patron Saints’ Names, by Thomas W. Sheehan, M. Div.

Fr. Sheehan has attempted a mighty task with this book. His intention was to provide patron saints for “English and Irish surnames, nicknames, place names, and occupation names that are now first, or given, names … African-American alternate spellings and inventions … Hispanic names and nicknames.” Basically, he wants to help retrofit a patron saint into a name that was chosen without regard to whether or not it was a saint’s name.

The negatives first: I have to be honest that I don’t agree with a lot of the entries. For example, Keisha is said to be an “African-American double from Hebrew” meaning “The Handsome+The Woman.” Further, “Keisha seems to be constructed out of Ke and Isha. Ke is probably from Kendra [from which he extracts the meaning “The Handsome One” by regarding Kendra as a feminine form of Kenneth]. It also helps to know that in the Book of Genesis Adam gives the name Isha to Eve, which means ‘the woman.'” He therefore lists as patron saints Adam and Eve (feast day Dec. 24) or St. Kennera (Oct. 29). But according to Behind the Name, which I’ve found to be quite trustworthy, Keisha is a “[r]ecent coinage, possibly invented, possibly based on Keziah,” who’s a daughter of Job in the Bible. Not a Ke/Kendra or Isha to be seen.

But then the positives: It’s quite a nice idea to find patron saints for each person, related to his or her name. Drake, for example, is explained as coming from the Middle English for “The Sign of the Dragon.” While Behind the Name has a slightly different take on its origin, it does connect the name Drake with the word dragon, and so Drake’s entry in Fr. Sheehan’s book is helpful: “It is helpful to know that Drake means ‘dragon.’ This leads to a number of patrons whose names contain the word ‘dragon.’ They are Sts. Dracona, Dracontius, Draguttin, Dragen, and Drogo. St. Dracona, a native of ancient Greece, died a martyr [feast day Nov. 11].” I think this is especially nice for some of the names today that are very popular but whose origin is murky or lost or very recent and/or with no obvious saintly connection. Names like Braedan, Jayden, Ava, Madison, and even names like “Studs,” which Fr. Sheehan describes as being Old English for “The One with Nail-Headed Ornaments”; he lists for his patron saint St. Studius, who was martyred in ancient Constantinople and has December 30 for his feast day. (Take note, all you Studs.)

To sum up, perhaps it’s best to describe Fr. Sheehan’s book as being like the Wikipedia of saints’ names books — it gives you a good starting place and may lead you down the right path, but be a little wary and double check the information against more reliable sources.

I have a lot of name books. Each one is beloved for one reason or another, and I plan to post about each one in due time.

The first — the mama of them all in my humble opinion — is The Baby Name Wizard, Revised 3rd Edition: A Magical Method for Finding the Perfect Name for Your Baby by Laura Wattenberg.

You might think that, for a Catholic baby name blog, I might start with a book of saints names. There are many such that are excellent references, but no name book besides TBNW that I’ve ever come across has all the elements that I love in a name book: pronunciation, commentary, popularity, nickname options. Not only does TBNW have all those, but it has a feature that I’ve  never seen anywhere, and I just love it: it offers “Brother” and “Sister” suggestions for every single entry, by which it does not mean names that should necessarily be sibling names of someone with the entry name (though they are excellent suggestions), but more that the sibling names listed are similar to the entry in style and popularity; someone interested in the entry name might very well find that he or she also loves the listed sibling names and is inspired by them. It’s a particularly helpful feature for someone who has a sense of some names that he or she likes, but none of the ones on their list are striking them as *the* one. The listed sibling names might provide that very name, or send them on the path to finding it.

For example: Dakota (girl) has Sedona, Oakley, Montana, Shenandoah, Laramie, and Bryce listed as sister names, and Maverick, Chayton, Ridge, Jedidiah, Coty, and Sawyer listed as brother names. Not only do you have twelve more names to consider, but those names also give a fuller idea of the image that “Dakota” on a little girl projects.

I mentioned the “Saints” section in a previous post, and the names listed are truly delectable. Given that the “quirkier corners of 2000 years of religious history” were plumbed to create the list, there are some really fun options on there, like Amata, Filomena, and Landry for girls; Cormac, Gennaro, and Tillo for boys. Some of the more obscure ones aren’t listed in the main part of the book, but others are, leading to great related options: Felicity’s sisters include Verity, Juliet, and Arabella, and brothers include Crispin, Colin, and Oliver; Rocco’s sisters include Mia, Giada, and Lucia, and brothers include Luca, Arlo, and Jude.

I’ve read TBNW front to back a hundred times or more, and I always learn something new with each read. I can’t recommend this book highly enough (and if you’re a real name enthusiast, you can check out the author’s blog, which she updates weekly, and the various forums available to discuss naming issues and questions).