I’m sure I’ve mentioned our dog before. Since he is a mutt, there is no need to describe as anything other than a dog. He is quite content with that description. Our dog is sure of who he is, and suffers no existential angst over whether he is really something other than what he is. And he has never had to seek out this information. In this, he is one with the rocks and trees and birds. None worries about its identity. Their identity is inherently bound up in their being.
Humans are strangely cursed with this question, “Who am I?” We obsess about it, convinced that we do not have the answers, and that once we do, we unlock our destiny, which freights the quest with so much worry and fear. What if we get our identity wrong? Are we condemning ourselves to a life of misery?
And so we experiment. We try out identities the way we try on clothes. Does this fit? Is it flattering? We anxiously flit about, missing the irony that our identity cannot be something from the outside that we put on. It can’t be. A banana in pajamas is still a banana, albeit one now in pajamas.
Matthew’s Gospel opens with a genealogy of Jesus. Coming off the strings of genealogies in the Old Testament, it is a strange place to start. Mark begins with Jesus in action, Luke offers a formal introduction laying out his purpose, and John offers a cosmic view of what he is about to relate. But our first look at Jesus starts with a whole string of begettings. Why?
Matthew wants to lay out Jesus’ identity as both contextual and relational. First and foremost, Jesus is a descendant of Abraham, through Isaac, which makes him a Jew and a further fulfillment of God’s promise. As we follow the list, Jesus bears in his person the story of God’s people, both the high points– Boaz, David, and Hezekiah– and the low– Rehoboam, Jeconiah and the exile. From the heights of kings, Jesus’s family tree descends to comparative obscurity. Generations of hopes and dreams flow into him.
More concretely, it also shows him as a son and a grandson, and later a brother, a person of a certain class residing in a certain time and place. These can give rise to certain assumptions on our part– Can anything good come from Nazareth– but our assumptions do not make for another’s identity.
There can be certain facts about us, like our height and weight and eye color, which are important in describing us, but there are likely a number of people in the world possessing the same combination of height, weight, and eye color. We must be more. We are all like mosaics, a complete image made up of many tiny pieces. We cannot be reduced to any one piece, or even a number of pieces. As image bearers of God, like Him, we simply are, albeit delineated by time.
So wear a silly hat, if you wish, or the latest styles. Eat no fat, or only fat. Appreciate that you have father and mother and a hometown. None of these defines you, but they are all a part of you. Some are to be shouted about, others to be mourned. But submit yourselves to God in humble worship, for we are all uniquely and wonderfully made.
About the only thing I remember of my wedding is seeing my wife come down the aisle. She had on make up and contacts, and her hair was straightened and pinned up. I did not recognize her. It was only when she broke out in a smile that I finally knew that this was my beloved. It could be no other, and it is better than good.
Letters From a Far Country 