Who Do You Think You Are?

Matthew 5:13-20

NBC has struck a chord with their popular new television series called “Who Do You Think You Are,” based on the British program of the same name. Over the season, we’re introduced to the stories of eight celebrities as they learn where they came from  and whom their people were. Professional genealogists dig deep into facts and figures and stories and do their part to fuel the rapidly growing interest in family history research.

With a nod to all you English majors, I know the question should be phrased “Whom Do You Think You Are?” but I’m taking the path of least resistance.

And what do we answer? Who do you think you are? Who are you?

Back in the mid-50’s the youngest daughter of William Howard Taft, III, was doing a second grade school autobiography and wrote: “my great grandfather was President of the United States; my grandfather was senator from Ohio; my father is Ambassador to Ireland, and I am a Brownie!”

Discovering who we are and embracing both the beauty and pain of life, is job #1 for each of us. Before we can figure out what might make life better we have to look deeply and honestly at our reality. Only then can we assess whether change is necessary , how we can engage the world, and how we can move forward. Look around and you’ll see:

  • Some have seemingly stumbled along with little self-awareness, yet have landed in a field of roses.
  • Some among us have done the hard work of facing your reality and offering it up to God; then building or rebuilding life into a thing of real beauty.
  • Some who are perpetually stuck, and who spend their whole lives casting about and struggling with questions of meaning and purpose.

Talk about stuck: you know that when we file our federal tax forms we’re asked our primary source of income. I was stunned to hear that a few years back 84,000 people listed their primary source of income as “Elvis tribute artist,” or more simply Elvis impersonator.

I occasionally see someone driving around town in a big old Cadillac and a license plate that says “Elvis.” I’ve tried to look at who’s driving – maybe it was one of you. I must say, though we begin every service of worship with the assurance “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here…” I have to imagine that an Elvis look-alike walking down the center aisle would draw a few stares.

In truth, many people impersonate others. They look around and compare every little part of their lives – as if creating your life was a potluck or a menu in a Chinese restaurant: I want her good looks and his money and her spouse and his son and her car and his education.

Why would we settled for spending a life impersonating someone else?  Admire, yes; emulate, sure; but impersonate? The greater joy is finding your own life, your own unique path. Thoreau said:

However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are.  It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in Paradise. Love your life.

So, just who do you think you are? Jesus posed that question. He railed against the imposters and posers; those who put on airs and who looked down their noses at others. He called some Pharisees “a brood of vipers,” and he told the story of a man who was robbed and beaten and left by the road to die. A priest and a Levite didn’t nearly live up to their lofty rhetoric and hurried by. An outcast Samaritan acted the very way Jesus had taught.

Jesus cared deeply about individuals and wanted to help them discover abundant life. He guided or corrected many people who came to him exhibiting spiritual or social or physical pain in their lives.

And while he cared so passionately about these individuals, he never overlooked the pain and promise of the world – the world that God has loved so much.

So he said to the crowd: you may be a mother or father; you may be a shepherd or tax collector; you may be a laborer or a home maker; you may be a student or a teacher.

But if you want to be my disciple, remember “You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world…” That’s our identity as Christians. In addition to whatever role and label and self-identity we carry around in this life, we’re also the salt of the earth and the light of the world.

We typically speak of someone who is good and kind and sincere as the salt of the earth. But I think he was talking about more than status –I think Jesus used these two terms “salt of the earth” and “light of the world” to capture our role or function – how we live and what we give to the world.

Salt was a familiar staple in biblical times, useful both for seasoning and for preservation. It wakes up the flavor of food, and it sustains life. In just the same way a disciple should wake up the weary and plodding and bland. Maybe we could get a better idea by saying “you are the red hot chili pepper of the earth!”

In just the same way you’re the light of the world. You cast a holy light on all that’s profane. You bring light into the dark corners where there’s ignorance and despair and evil.

Salt that has lost it’s taste is worthless. Light that’s hidden in a closet doesn’t bless anyone. In just this way, he said, if you’re my disciple ACT LIKE IT. Don’t lose your zest, don’t hide your light. Be Jesus people who live what you claim and who make the world sit up and pay attention!

Who do you think you are? You’re many things. But whatever else you may be, claim your place as a follower, a life-long student who’s willing to wrestle with the mystery and the joy of shaping your life to his.

Don’t let doubts or discouragement stop you. Don’t imagine that everyone else has it all together and you’re just an Elvis impersonator. Push off, step out, find your voice and live your faith.

Hasidic Rabbi Ben Isaac was asked on his deathbed what he thought the kingdom of God would be like. “I don’t know,” he said, “except one thing: when I get there  I will not be asked ‘why weren’t you Moses,’ or ‘why weren’t you David?’ Instead I will be asked ‘why weren’t you Ben Isaac? Why weren’t you fully you?’”