Identity Crisis!

Text: St. Luke 18:9-14
Theme: “Identity Crisis!”
The Thirtieth Sunday In Ordinary Time
The Twenty Second Sunday After Pentecost
October 24, 2010
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
The Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

In a recent edition of The New York Times, author Alex Kuczynski tells of what happened when he stopped at a CVS pharmacy on his way home. He needed to pick up some baby wipes and ointment. At checkout, he swiped his credit card and then paused before signing his name on the small screen with that little black wand thingie-ma-jig. Instead of signing his name “Alex Kuczynski”, he signed “Cher.” There were no problems. The transaction was completed without delay. He picked up his baby wipes and ointment, and off he goes. On another occasion at another store, he signed his name “Kim Jong-Il”. In The New York Times article, Kyczynski says:

I thought signing the name of a North Korean dictator — whose name clearly didn’t jibe with my Caucasian features — would stir some sign of life in the checkout clerk. Nothing. On other days, on other terminals, all over New York City and Long Island, I was ‘‘Benjamin Franklin,’’ ‘‘Hillary Clinton,’’ ‘‘Steve Wozniak,’’ ‘‘Zsa Zsa Gabor,’’ ‘‘Angelina Jolie.’’ In an appeal to the young clerks at my local drugstore chain I tried ‘‘Kid Cudi’’ and ‘‘Justin Bieber’’ in swirling, swooping letters. Nothing. And every time my charge was processed without a hitch. I don’t look at all like Lady Gaga, but if I sign her name, my credit card is charged. Finally, I even wrote in block letters, this is not my signature. It all worked. What a miraculous little glitch of technology!

Technology, being technology, could care less about your identity – about who you are. We don’t matter to technology, but oh how technology matters to us! We bump into this truth every time we can’t find the remote for the TV. Everything is increasingly high-tech! Similarly, technology doesn’t give a hoot about someone stealing your identity either. Technology has no moral frame of reference. For that matter, what is it that identifies you as you anyway? A scientist might say it’s your DNA. A police officer might accept your driver’s license. For other entities, institutions, businesses, and the IRS, a Social Security Number will suffice.

How important is identity? I’ve heard of folks who have lived for years and years in the same house without knowing the names of their neighbors two doors down. Charles Fox and Norman Gimbel put it into words, and Jim Croce sang it all those years ago:

Like the pine trees lining the winding road, I got a name; I got a name.
Like the singing bird and the croaking toad, I got a name; I got name.
And I carry it with me like my daddy did,
But I’m living the dream that he kept hid.
Moving me down the highway, rolling me down the highway.
Moving ahead so life won’t pass me by.

Long ago, a family coat of arms might identify you. The symbols on the coat of arms would say something about who you are – or, at least, what your family was all about. As we all know, the symbol of the cross or the fish identifies us as Christians. Nowadays, Facebook and MySpace and other social networking sites help us get our personal identity out there along with all those pictures we can upload. There are even privacy settings so that we can keep certain parts of our identity private and away from the gaze of strangers.

What if personal identity, like a digital picture, were something we could upload? After awhile, if we didn’t like the upload, we could delete it and upload something else. “I don’t like who I am, so I’ll try to be somebody else.”

Are you aware of your own identity? Are you okay with your own identity? Are you, as they say, comfortable in your own skin? If not, you may be experiencing – or have experienced – what psychologists call an identity crisis. A theorist by the name of Erik Erikson coined the phrase and believed it was one of the most important conflicts people face.

I offer myself up as Exhibit A. Fourteen years ago or so, I was going through some very difficult times in my life and sought counseling. I’ll never forget one visit to the psychiatrist assigned to my case, a certain Dr. Kennedy. On that occasion, he said: “Paul, you have many roles in your life. You’re a son, a husband, a father, a pastor, a golfer, a piano player, and you’re the diamond jubilee president of the local Kiwanis Club. That much you have shared. Now, I want you, in your mind, to step out of all those roles that you play, and I want you to answer this question: who are you? A period of painful silence followed. As tears began to brim, I shook my head; I didn’t who I was. “For years,” Dr. Kennedy said, “you’ve identified yourself primarily by what you do, and you’ve set completely unrealistic standards of perfection for every single role you play. In our sessions, I hope we, together, can discover who you are.”

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus tells a story of two people who went to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector. These people, I assure you, are not the kind that would meet at Starbucks for a friendly chit-chat over coffee and biscotti. But my question to you, after having heard today’s Gospel, is this: which one – the Pharisee or the tax collector – should make an appointment with Dr. Kennedy? In other words, who appears to be having the identity crisis?

Both Pharisee and the tax collector say their prayers. They both look like good, solid, religious types! There is no reason to doubt the sincerity of what they say in their prayers. There is nothing to suggest that either one or both of them were lying. In addition, both of them were standing as they prayed. But this is where the similarities come to an end. One of them, the Pharisee, is standing up front. The other, the tax collector, is standing way in the back at a distance.

Up first is the prayer of the Pharisee: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” Pretty clearly, the Pharisee is identifying himself. He does it in two ways. First, he identifies himself by way of comparison to others. He considers thieves, rogues, adulterers, and even the tax collector standing in the back. His identity, in part, is that he is not like them. Compared to them, he is unique. It’s as if he is saying: “I am who I am because I’m not like you other people. I am exalted, in a class by myself. I’m just the kind of chap that God is looking for, and I’m reminding God of that fact. I’m unique.” He is grateful to God for this uniqueness. Why, if God ran Facebook (and not Max Zuckerberg), God should set up a fan page for this Pharisee!

Second, he identifies himself by what he does. Farmers farm; fishermen fish; bankers bank; and God’s people fast (go without food for awhile) and give their money. And this Pharisee fasts not once but twice a week. He gives a tenth of ALL his income – not just from his salary but from his investment portfolio too. The pious Jew was required to give a tenth of his or her produce. This Pharisee gave a tenth of EVERYTHING and not just what he produced in any given period of time. He had his roles to play – the role of one who fasts and the role of one who tithes – and he played them well. That’s who he was. That’s how he identified himself. His prayer to God is as self-congratulatory as anyone could ever imagine.

Meanwhile, way in the back stands the tax collector. Talk about a crisis! He’s having one! But it’s not because he’s confused about his identity. He’s only too aware of it. His head is down and he’s pounding his chest; it was a pitiful sight. There’s not much going for him, apparently. It was utterly futile to try and trot out his spiritual and/or moral resume before God because there was none. You can’t trot it out if it’s not there. He does not compare himself to others – as in, “God, I’m a pretty nasty guy, but I haven’t ripped people off and robbed them blind as much as Joe Schmoe up north in Kokomo.” Moreover, he does not identify himself by what he does or does not do. His identity is to him like a modern television is to us: it’s in High –Def! It’s as clear as you can get. “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” he prays. In the original language, it’s not just “a” sinner, but “the” sinner. Elsewhere in the New Testament, the apostle Paul says as much. He describes himself as the “chief” of sinners.

In the end, neither of them really need to see a Dr. Kennedy; they are aware of who they are. Which one of the two do you identify with? Which one of the two do we identify with as a church? Now there’s something to talk about this week. But the biggest question, though, is this: which one does Jesus identify with? “I tell you,” says Jesus, (that) “this man (the tax collector) went down to his home justified rather than the other (the Pharisee); for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.

Being able to correctly and confidently identify yourself is not unimportant. But what is all-important is how God identifies us. God identifies us as sinners for whom Christ was willing to suffer and die for. All of that confusion and even crisis about who we are or who we are not pales in comparison to that love from God that would go through a cross for us. It is as the hymn-writer said:

Chief of sinners though I be, Jesus shed His blood for me, died that I might live on high, lives that I might never die. As the branch is to the vine, I am His and He is mine.

When we become more aware of who we are, the Gospel, the good news of God’s love and mercy, becomes all the more precious.

Speaking of identity, can you identify with the Texas Rangers? This past Friday night, a little bit more of the great state of Texas found its way into this Cornhusker heart of mine! The ballpark down in Arlington was rockin’, as well as fans across Texas, as the Rangers made it to the World Series for the first time in franchise history. Some said it was poetic justice that Alex Rodriguez, the ex-Ranger-turned New York Yankee, struck out to end the game.

It just wasn’t supposed to happen. The Yankees have this incredible organization with marquee players commanding a combined salary of over two hundred million dollars. In contrast, we had the annually disappointing Texas Rangers. There were ownership issues this year and personal problems for both management and the roster of players. And besides, by way of comparison, the combined salary was nowhere near that of the Yankees. But none of that mattered, did it? The Texas Rangers are baseball players; they went out to play baseball, and they won.

It all got me to thinking. First Presbyterian Church, like the Rangers, has been around for quite awhile. We’ve had little if any notoriety. Some might say that we are no longer what we once were. We don’t have the biggest church. Our organization might be somewhat balky and/or bureaucratic if not predictable. We have had, to be sure, some difficulties in our more recent past. We do not have the resources – human, financial, or otherwise – to do some of the things we’d like to do.

But what does that matter? I say, let’s take the field and play ball anyway. We are a company of forgiven sinners. We get to, as Jesus says, go “down to our home justified” – not because of who we are but because God is merciful toward us. The greatest victory of them all has already been won, and we are here because of it. We have heaven-sent resources and equipment we need: the Gospel and Sacraments of God! Lets take the field and play ball – not for ourselves, but for the glory of God and for the good of all the people that God loves so much! Is that something you’d like to be a part of? Can you identify with that?

Amen.