This critical turning point has significant ramifications. This watershed moment begins with the question of identity “Who do people say I am?”. (Mk 8:17). It might sound like a harmless small talk but the query does pose a challenge to a social phenomenon that is important for us. In an era that rightly emphasises human dignity, the question of identity has taken such a central stage that “who (or what) we are” has been politicised and weaponised. However, a deeper reflexion may reveal that the focus on identity has less to do with dignity than with protecting our notion of “freedom”. Perhaps a line from a song “Numb” by Linkin Park succinctly captures this “Zeitgeist”. “All I want to do is be more like me and be less like you” articulates a plaintive cry for the freedom of expression. Our identity is largely shaped by the notion of “unfettered freedom”.
The Hebrew word “Messiah” or the Greek equivalent “Christos” might help us rethink our concept of “freedom”. The etymology of “Messiah or Christos” describes anointing. So Jesus the “Anointed” is the consecrated one. The act of “anointing” suggests that oil is poured on someone or that a person is smeared with ointment. If possible, visualise that Jesus took oil and poured it on His own head in an act of self-anointing. It surely looks odd and the same incongruity would be observed if we consider the Rite of Baptism for Adults.[1] Can one imagine an adult taking a jug of water, tilting the head and pouring upon himself while invoking the Trinitarian formula “I baptise myself…”.
Jesus Himself supplied the answer for His consecration when, in the synagogue in Nazareth, He read from the Prophet Isaiah. “The Spirit of the Lord has been given to Me, for He has anointed Me”. (Lk 4:18). Anointing is always relational as it is in our baptism. “Someone” has to baptise, confirm or even ordain another. In such a simple transaction what it shows is that our identity is relational and not simply “autonomous” as in “my freedom to behave as I like”.
The Christian identity is not founded on the politics of “absolute autonomy”. It is relational because it is linked to the mission of Our Lord Himself. This is where we are invited make a commitment as illustrated by this light-hearted discussion of a joint-venture project between Mr Pig and Mr Chicken. The suggestion by Mr Chicken that the name of the proposed eatery be named “Bacon-and-Egg” occasioned a rejoinder by Mr Pig that the strategic partnership is doomed from the beginning. “It is unequal”, says Mr Pig, “As I will be committed whereas you will merely be involved”.
The question by Jesus actually commits us to His mission in the world. What is appealing for many is to think of mission as a project, a task or a venture. But what is unavoidable when contemplating the identity of Jesus is how He spelt it out clearly for Peter that the path of the Messiah, that is, His mission in the world will drive Him deep into the heart of rejection and suffering. The response of Jesus to Peter’s remonstration proved inarguably that the identity of the disciple and apostle consists both of self-denial and of taking up one’s Cross in order to follow Him intimately.
Like Peter, we can be right and yet at the same time wrong. Egged on by a consumerist mentality of “mod con”, we tend to forget that our Christian identity is tied to the Cross and our vocation is to take it up and to love it. For many of us, it will take a lifetime to embrace this true superhuman identity. The dilemma of modernity is that we have been intoxicated by a hyper-indulgence of the senses that we are terrible at suffering. In fact, we try ever so hard to avoid coming to terms with one of the hardest facts of human existence—life is hard. Our definition of a good life is defined by creaturely comfort forgetting that suffering on account of following Christ is a service of faith because it prepares us for the eternal glory of union with God. As St Paul rightly reminds us, “suffering trains us for the carrying of a weight of eternal glory which is out of all proportion to it”. (2 Cor 4:17).
The word “suffering” is intimidating and it can crush the human spirit. The world will always persuade us that suffering is unnecessary and the primary purpose of life is to satisfy our appetites. It is when we offer our struggles to God, when we allow Him to help us carry our crosses, that suffering will no longer be an obstacle to the discipleship that we are invited to. In Christ, the Cross is our glory, not our shame.
Thus, in terms of shaping our Christian identity, we can avoid only so much of the Cross without losing our true self. In the Cross, we cherish commitment and are not content with mere involvement. What He wills, we desire even to the point of laying down our lives in order to do His will. The disciple can do this because he knows that the power of the Cross is transcendental. It is the only ladder he has to be able to ascend to heaven.
In conclusion, our true identity does not reside in gender or race. Instead, it is closely wrapped up with what it means to follow and witness to Christ. If individual autonomy is what we value, then the identity that grants the greatest freedom is shaped by Christ expressed through His salvific mission. In a world that is confused by what identity means, we are called to a distinctive moral belief and behaviour. It will mean that we stand alone at times. “Who do you say I am?” is a question which may be naïve at first but the answer we supply Jesus determines how we profess and live. For Peter and the rest of the followers, we can trace a movement from indifference to commitment, from Disciples to Apostles. Likewise for us, if He is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then every fibre of our being strains to commit itself to live according to the identity that He is the Lord in every sense of the word and our lives are humble testimonies of that.
