As I exited the school building where I lost my cherished career as a school counselor, my heart was overcome with sorrow. I fulfilled several years’ worth of sacrifice and toil in college classrooms or on site at varying schools for my required number of counseling hours. I sacrificed time with friends and family in order to finish research papers and study for exams. My very life equaled the career I chose over ten years ago. And suddenly, as quickly as I was taken on board with bells and whistles, the fanfare subsided and I was told my contract would not be renewed the following school year.
In our empty home, I questioned my identity, the essence of who I was. Our culture emphasizes material success in terms of high degrees from prestigious post-secondary institutions, a hefty salary, and a life to show off what we’ve achieved – honors banquets and awards galas, luxury vehicles and fancy homes. This has always been the way the world defines who we are, and in some ways, we all fall culprit to that fallacy.
But when we lose everything we’ve placed stock in, such as I did with my school counseling career, we must question the validity of such a belief. Some of us may not literally lose everything, but perhaps Jesus will strip us of earthly attachments from the inside out. Either way, we must confront our emptiness before we can honestly and adequately answer the question, “Who am I?”
Jesus asked His disciples this question. First, He inquired, “Who do others say that I am?” to which they replied, “Some Elijah, others Moses, or a great prophet.” But when He posed the question more intimately, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter answered with great humility and awe, “You are the Messiah, the Savior of the world.” (See Matthew 16:15.)
Jesus is reminding us that it doesn’t matter how the world defines our identity. Today, identity has been skewed in every facet of our lives – from race to socioeconomic status and gender to career. We base the essence of our dignity upon our political affiliation, sexual orientation, field of study, and material acquisitions. Some of us even (wrongfully) consider our identity to exclusively be defined by our primary vocation as spouse, parent, or religious.
The question we must ask is not, “Who does the world say that I am?” but instead, “Who does Jesus say that I am?” The ultimate answer resides at the core of our being. Only when we confront Jesus face-to-face will we understand that we are, first and foremost, an adopted son or daughter of God.
This is not to negate the reality that our race or ethnicity, our naturally assigned gender, or our specific talents do not contribute to who we are. Certainly they do. When we live authentically, all of these facets of our lives become a beautifully cohesive tapestry that comprises our unique mark on the world. It’s when we falsely and forcefully convince ourselves that who we are is defined by what we do that life becomes more muddled, and the “isms” of our day tend to creep in our language and psyche.
Jesus beckons us back to the source – Himself – with such a simple question, “Who do you say that I am?” When we answer honestly, we cannot deny our love for Him and desire to please Him. Jesus reflects truth, and in this question is a twofold answer. We respond that Jesus is our Savior and ponder who He is, was, and always will be (Alpha and Omega). But we also ask ourselves, “Who am I?” and can answer it only in light of Jesus’ presence in and around us.
Jesus is closer to us than we are to ourselves. Therefore, our identity resides solely in Him, not in some conjured façade that we’d like to use in order to impress the world. When we step away from our self-imposed labels, we are stripped of all the barricades we’ve created in order to become something or someone who might matter in a secular sense. But we can only truly leave an indelible imprint on the world when we are bereft of these labels and stand before God with nothing to offer Him, except His own reflection in our created bodies and souls.
Jesus longs for us to be empty of our tired and complex false identities so that we can approach Him humbly and honestly. The humiliation of self-annihilation often leaves us crawling back to God on our hands and knees, and rightly so. Without the degrees, credentials, awards, and honors, we are tempted to believe we have nothing to offer anyone, and the truth in this statement exists in the fact that we cannot be true disciples of Jesus without first being empty of ourselves and the falsehood of the world’s promises.
Bring Jesus to your nothingness, dear soul, and leave yourself behind at the Altar of Mercy this year. The next time you attend Mass, remember this symbolic act, and allow yourself to be crucified for the sake of gaining Jesus Himself in your soul. God’s jealousy for you means that He wants you to belong to Him and no one or nothing else. Your radical gift of self means that, you not only recognize your authentic identity as a Christian, but it also means that you love God for His own sake rather than for what He does for you.
Our true identity relies on loving God, simply because He deserves to be loved. That is how we fulfill the question, “Who do you say that I am?” both to Jesus and ourselves. Do not be duped by the fallacious enticements of the world, because you are more than male or female, Jew or Greek, slave or free. (See Galatians 3:28.) Yes, your masculinity or femininity is a beautiful reflection of God in your mind, body, and soul, but ultimately you are a child of God.
If I had clutched this truth with all my heart as I was diving into my first career as a school counselor, perhaps things would have turned out differently when my contract wasn’t renewed. Maybe, instead of wallowing in such dark discouragement and questioning what my worth as a person was, I would have recalled the beauty of this gospel message and risen, through grace, in my extreme fall.
The ego must die in order for it to rise with Christ. Let us embrace the timeless wisdom from St. John Paul II and “throw open the doors to our hearts,” so that all of the stereotypes, labels, and categories we have given ourselves or others may be destroyed and what remains is the necessary emotional and spiritual transparency that paves the way for Jesus to consume us through the flames of love.
