GARY

IN 2015 the UK’s Independent newspaper broke some shocking news. The name Gary would soon be extinct. Gary was popular for a while there. But you don’t hear of many Garys anymore. Gary is on the way out. Soon there will be no Garys.

In the 1950s baby boom, parents across the English speaking world were calling their sons Gary (the Italian version of Gary is “Gherado” with a rolled R, which is much more glamorous). In the 80s both the Queensland and NSW State of Origin fullbacks were named Gary. Even some girls were named Gary. For a time you could find Gary on those name plates they sell out the front of News-Agencies. But at some point naming your baby Gary became ridiculous. That’s the thing about names, they come and they go.

This coming and going of names causes a real problem for authors trying to write believable fiction. In order to write a convincing story you have to use the names that were used in the time and place in which your story is set. If you, for instance, filled your story with Garys at a time when nobody was called Gary your story would be unbelievable.

This isn’t hard to do if the author is writing about a time and place in which they have actually lived, but if the setting is in a distant place many years ago it is fiendishly difficult. If I had to write a story set in Italy in say 1942, everyone would be called Mussolini or Gherado with a rolled R, and I only know of Gherado with a rolled R because I looked it up for this article.

Some doubting souls have suggested that the Gospels are a work of historical fiction. That they were made up many years later by people who were not there. If this were true the names should be an absolute mess. Especially when one considers that this is the ancient world and the authors had no access to the internet or any record books in which to do some research.

And the Gospel writers didn’t make it easy on themselves. If they were trying to convince people their fake story was real they would keep names to a minimum, the more names you use the greater your chance of error. But the Gospel writers name just about everyone. When Jesus gets too tired to carry his cross a man from the crowd is made to help. Three of the Gospel writers tell us his name was Simon and he was from Cyrene and then they tell us he had two sons named Rufus and Alexander. There was no need to name Rufus and Alexander as neither of them were there. There really wasn’t even a need to name Simon or to tell us where he was from. But they named them anyway. The Gospel writers name everyone.

IN 2006 Cambridge scholar Richard Bauckham put together a list of names used in first century Palestine. He used every source possible - historical records, the dead sea scrolls, even grave markings. He then ranked the names in terms of popularity and compared his list to the Gospels. The correlation was exquisite.

Even more impressive was the disambiguations. When a name is popular it is helpful to add something to the name to specify who you are talking about. Simon was the most popular name in first century Palestine. That is why we are told that the cross carrying Simon was from Cyrene. Disambiguations don’t emerge unless they are needed. Bauckham’s list showed they would have been needed for first century Palestinian Simons and the Gospels use a heap of them.

This makes the argument that the Gospels were invented many years later by people who were not there implausible. People who were not there could never be so precise. It is much more reasonable to believe that the Gospels are based on eyewitness testimony. The authors knew people’s actual names. They knew there were plenty of Simons and Marys and Josephs and they knew there were absolutely no Garys.