If you have adolescents in your life, then you know that now is the time they begin to ask about identity. “Who am I?” When we notice that they are spending countless hours in their bedrooms, only to come out wearing very strange clothes, ready to go out to who knows where, we say: “They’re only trying to figures themselves out.”
We first begin to ask about identity when we reach adolescence. But truthfully we never cease asking this question “Who am I?” It is a question that accompanies us throughout our lives.
The spiritual writer, Henri Nouwen, loved by so many devoted readers, noted that we tend to answer this question in three ways: “I am what I do”; “I am what I have”; and “I am what other people say about me.” In our gospel lesson, we will see how Jesus challenges the adequacy of these answers.
But first let us set the scene. He has been on a mountain, where he had been praying, and where he had chosen from among his disciples the 12, whom he appointed apostles. On the plain below a great crowd awaits him. They include disciples, as well as people who have come from long distances to hear him and to be healed by him. Indeed, Luke tells us that some have come from as far as Tyre and Sidon, easily 100 miles from the place where Jesus and his disciples are now.
Nor are the people disappointed. The crowds press around him in hope of healing and deliverance. They stretch out their hands to touch him, and power goes out from him and heals them all.
But now there is a role shift. Jesus turns from a healer into a teacher. The crowds are still there. They are not averse to Jesus’ teaching. Last time we saw that a great crowd came out to the Sea of Galilee to hear Jesus teach the Word of God. He teaches with authority. But this time Jesus directs his words to the disciples. What he has to say concerns them above all. He has called them and they have responded. They have left their professions, their former way of life, to follow him. We may say that he has become their center. If any one of them were to put to himself the question: “Who am I?’ he would no doubt say “I am Jesus’ disciple.”
We already mentioned that, according to Henri Nouwen, we tend to answer this question in three ways. “I am what I do.” “I am what I own.” And “I am what others think of me.” Bible student Chelsea Harmon makes the insightful observation that some of these answers we give to this question are implied in the blessings and woes that the form the content of Jesus’ teaching. “Who am I?” “I am poor, a wage slave, in a dead end job, with hardly enough to provide for myself, let alone a spouse and a child.” “Who am I?” “I am one who weeps. I am a trauma survivor. I am clinically depressed. I am diagnosed with this condition or disease.” “Who am I?” I am excluded and reviled. I am identified with one of those marginalized and socially-stigmatized groups, rejected and shunned by society.”
But to this question of course very different answers can be given. “Who am I?” “I am rich. I have more than enough to provide for myself and my family.” “Who am I?” I am someone of high status. Important people admire me and speak well of me.”
Before they met Jesus, before they left everything behind to follow him, the disciples may have given one or more of these answers to this question. But no longer. They are first and foremost disciples of Jesus. That is how they define themselves, as we have already mentioned.
Harmon helpfully points out that the lesson invites us to reconsider our thoughts about identity, to rethink our answer to the “who am I?” question. Today we need this lesson more than ever before.
For example, consider how fond we are of labels. We have a label for everyone. “She is bipolar.” “He has ADHD.” Now I’m not denying that there are legitimate medical conditions. Anyone who knows me will vouch that I’m the last person to discourage research into disorders and newer and more effective interventions to treat them. But labels work on us. They form what psychologist Mark Mayfield calls a “story cycle.” A story cycle is a narrative that we tell about ourselves, over and over, again and again. The narrative comes to shape our basic beliefs about ourselves. And the more we inhabit these basic beliefs, the more our identity becomes bound to them. We become what we believe about ourselves.
That is why we have to be very careful about labels—both those we give to others and those we apply to ourselves. Bad labels tell us that somehow we are defective. They give us a ready-made excuse or justification for a behavior, because that’s just how we are. Our labels convince us that it cannot be otherwise.
But if we are disciples of Jesus, we are blessed. That’s what the disciple believes above all about himself, because Jesus himself tells him. Now let’s be clear. Jesus is not saying that the disciple must choose to be poor or hungry or sorrowful in order to be blessed. He is not saying that the disciple must choose to be rejected and ridiculed in order to qualify for the divine blessing. For that matter, neither is he saying that the disciple is to seek to be rich, to be insensitive to the needs of others while living the good life. Nor is he saying that the disciple must strive to be well-liked by everyone at all costs.
The blessing consists rather in the disciple’s relationship with Jesus. It is this that gives the disciples an identity that will anchor them when the bad times come. Even when they experience poverty, hunger, grief and rejection, as disciples who belong to Jesus their Rabbi, their Teacher, their Master, they are blessed.
In our suffering there is comfort in knowing that we belong to Jesus. Since the sixteenth century, there have been many Christians who have found comfort in the familiar first question and answer of the Heidelberg Catechism in this regard:
- What is your only comfort in life and in death?
- That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.
The disciples are blessed not only because they belong to Jesus, but also because they will experience the “great reversal” when the kingdom of God is realized at the end of the age. Those who are poor now will possess the treasures of the kingdom of God then. Those who hunger now will be full then. Those who weep now will laugh then. And those who suffer at the hands of others now because of their commitment to Christ will receive their reward, the fulfillment of their identity, then.
Note that to each of the blessings there corresponds a woe. Harmon points out that what is lacking among the classes of people described here is a relationship to God or Jesus. There is no spiritual dimension to their lives. People who abound in material goods see no reason to depend on God to provide for their needs. Of course, we are making a generalization here. There are wealthy people who see God as the source of their wealth and give generously.
But material wealth is a spiritual danger to which Luke is especially attuned. Later in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus warns a man to be on his guard against all kinds of greed, because a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions (12:15). And then there is his familiar statement that it is harder for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God (18:25). The rich that Jesus has in mind here seem to be concerned only for themselves and for the present moment. The rich people accumulate wealth for themselves even at the expense of others.
Indeed, the Bible is critical of the rich for this very reason. James, for example, has harsh words to say to the rich who exploit others. Look! The wages you failed to pay the workers who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty. You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter (5:4-5).
The rich are evidently interested in their comfort now. There is comfort in wealth, but the Bible warns us to see it in proper perspective. “For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.” Jesus assures the rich that comfort will be granted to them now, but at the high price of their own future.
We can dedicate all our time and energy to securing our lives against troubles and hardships that threaten us in the future. Granted, the Bible commends the prudent who saves money. When we have insufficient resources, we have good reason to fear that the future may bring misfortunes that we cannot handle, such as high medical bills or an unexpected loss of job.
But when does preparing for a rainy day become excessive fear that enough will never be enough? But does living like that really amount to any kind of life at all?
To become a disciple of Jesus involves risk. Did not Peter and James and John expose themselves to risk when they left their fishing nets behind? Did not Levi do the same when he left his tax booth behind? These men abandoned their livelihoods to follow Jesus. Jesus does not promise his disciples a life free from trouble, but he does promise them blessing.
In spite of how careful we are to avoid risk, we cannot eliminate trouble from our lives. No one in this life is spared from trouble.
Some of you may be familiar with Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the Bible called The Message. He paints a vivid picture of what’s in store for those on whom Jesus pronounces woe. “But it’s trouble ahead if you think you have it made. What you have is all you’ll ever get. And it’s trouble ahead if you’re satisfied with yourself. Your self will not satisfy you for long. And it’s trouble ahead if you think life’s all fun and games. There’s suffering to be met, and you’re going to meet it. There’s trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, saying what flatters them, doing what indulges them. Popularity contests are not truth contests…”
Those who have all that they need will one day experience lack. Those who laugh now will one day mourn and weep. Those who make sure that they say and do all the right things around the important people they want to impress will one day be exposed as false. They will discover in the end that the one who chose to be a disciple of Jesus chose the better part.
What about us? Have we chosen the better part? Today’s gospel lesson invites us to take the risk and believe in the paradox of the blessings and woes that Jesus pronounces. Jesus is speaking to us about identity. How do you answer the question, “who am I?” Jesus is inviting us to renew our decision, to reconfirm our commitment, to be his disciple. Let us anchor our identity in this relationship. Then we will be rooted in the truth that is in Jesus, whatever our circumstances, whether they be good or bad.
Every act he performed, and every word he spoke on the plain that day invites all human beings to share in the blessedness of the divine community that he called the kingdom of God. As Elizabeth said to Mary in a lesson we read in Advent: “Blessed are those who believe.” Amen.