Who am I?

How do I define myself?

 

Identity, of course, is a complex thing.

It’s shaped by a disparate and inter-connected range of factors and experiences.

I could define myself in a physical sense.

I could say that I’m a sixty-year-old white man...

about one hundred and seventy-five centimetres tall—

or about five foot nine on the old scale— 

with dark brown hair that’s greying and getting a bit thin on top...

green eyes but short-sighted...

fairly slim and very fit.

I could define myself by the relationships that I have…

or that I have had.

I could say that I’m the son of Colin and Rosemary—

although I was mostly raised by my dad.

I’m the grandson of Jacob and Wilhelmina—

whom I hardly knew.

I’m Mark’s brother...

and Sean’s uncle...

and Natasha’s husband.

As is common within our culture…

I could also define myself by the work that I do…

or that I have done…

and by the things that I do.

I could say that I’m the minister of this church;

that I have been a spokesman for Christians Supporting Choice for Voluntary Assisted Dying;

that I used to be a lecturer in a theological college;

and, before that, that I was a vet.

And, of course, I could also add that, until recently, I was a competitive freediver.

I’m someone who enjoys red wine…

Irish Wolfhounds…

swimming…

growing roses…

and watching science fiction.

I could define myself according to a range of life experiences that I have had.

Who I am was shaped by being born in Australia—

but the son of a non-Anglo-Saxon migrant;

attending a private boys’ school, where I was bullied…

and growing up in the eastern suburbs—

but in a single parent family;

completing several degrees at several universities—

where I was also active in the anti-nuclear protests of the eighties.

 

Of course, I am all of these things and more.

 

According to one psychological theory…

identity involves an internalisation and assimilation—

sometimes consciously, but usually subconsciously—

of the characteristics and traits of significant others.

On the other hand, social-psychologists point out that identity is shaped through a process of negotiation.

It’s a dialogue between who and how I see myself…

and who and how others see me.

In effect, we largely define our identity by comparison.

We look at other people and—

consciously or subconsciously—

we seek to emulate or adopt their good traits or behaviours;

or we modify our own to fit into a group.

And, of course, we define identity by competition.

In sport…

in business…

in academia…

we compare ourselves to others—

we strive to surpass others—

as a way of defining who we are.

But, in so doing…

within our culture…

we don’t like it if someone gets a “big head”.

We may define ourselves by comparison and by competition…

but you shouldn’t boast about it.

We live in what’s described as a “horizontal individualist culture”.

Our culture emphasises the uniqueness of each and the equality of all: 

each person is entitled to have a say…

and…

perhaps barring any special expertise…

each person’s opinion is regarded as equally valuable. 

Indeed, “everyone is entitled to their opinion” is one of our deeply cherished mantras.

We are a culture that holds strongly democratic and egalitarian ideals…

and we get upset when those values are impinged upon.

 

First century Palestine, however, was the exact opposite.

Theirs was a “vertical collectivist culture”.

They were brought up to place the needs of the group ahead of their own.

Above all else, duty was valued…

as was submission to the group leaders…

who behaved in paternalistic, even authoritarian ways—

and that was simply accepted and expected by the rest of the group.

With a traditional, clearly-defined group—

like an extended family or kin-group—

that was obvious.

Duty and submission were owed, first and foremost, to the patriarch;

but, after that, it was owed to the male head of each household.

Apart from that, however, it was something that had to be negotiated.

In a social club, for instance, there would be a public jostling for position.

There would be claims to pre-eminence over another—

based on family name…

place of origin…

and occupation—

and counter-claims;

all of which would be assessed by the rest.

This process of claim and counterclaim would continue until a pecking order was established.

Each of them needed to know their place to know how to function.

That was simply the way that their culture worked.

And that’s what we see going on in our story this morning…

from Mark’s Gospel.

As Jesus and the disciples were walking to Capernaum…

we’re told…

they “argued with one another who was the greatest”.

The sense of the original Greek…

however… 

is more “discussed” or even “debated” rather than “argued”.

This wasn’t some petty, ego-driven game of one-upmanship.

They were simply trying to establish their group dynamics…

and to work out how each one fitted in the group.

This was, for them, a normal process of defining and negotiating their identity.

As group leader, Jesus took the preeminent role in defining that identity.

And note how he does that:

“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all”. 

And then, by means of an implicit object lesson…

he brings a child into their midst…

as if to say…

“greatness is about being child-like”.

Now, over the years… 

I have heard lots of sermons based on these “become like a small child” sayings from the Gospels—

sermons that have emphasised the innocence of children…

or that the nature of a child is to be trusting and dependent…

as if that’s what the Gospel writer wants us to emulate.

No!

That’s simply us projecting our cultural assumptions back onto them.

That’s not how they saw children at all.

In their world, the infant mortality rate was about thirty percent…

and another thirty percent died before the age of six.

So, about two-thirds of those born never made it to puberty.

Under those circumstances, you couldn’t afford to invest much emotional energy in young children. 

They were, effectively, non-entities until they reached a safe age.

They were weak and vulnerable…

and effectively without status.

But the same could also be said of servants—

in other words, slaves—

who were seen as, and treated as, livestock or commodities:

without status…

without rights…

and subject to the whims of their masters.

Thus, Jesus— 

in Mark’s Gospel— 

completely undermines and inverts their cultural assumptions about how they formed identity.

They are encouraged to embrace weakness and vulnerability;

to strive, in effect, to have no status or standing;

to forgo everything that their culture taught them to aspire to;

to completely rethink how they saw and thought about themselves.

 

As I have said, we live in a vastly different culture.

And it’s not easy to imagine how this can be re-contextualised for us.

Sure, at times, we might slip into paternalism—

even authoritarianism—

and we might adopt an air of superiority over others…

but, at heart, we know that we shouldn’t.

And yet, the fact that we do… 

still tells us how ingrained those tendencies are…

and how much we still need to hear this story.