Jesus And A Hermeneutics Of Identity

By Klyne R. Snodgrass

[Klyne R. Snodgrass is Paul W. Brandel Professor of New Testament Studies, North Park Theological Seminary, Chicago, Illinois.

This is the second article in a four-part series, “A Hermeneutics of Identity,” delivered as the W. H. Griffith Thomas Lectureship, February 2-5, 2010, Dallas Theological Seminary, Dallas, Texas.]

For a society in which many people have no idea who they are and many more find their identity in their possessions, their sports team, or their job, the church needs to focus on identity. We need to analyze and research identity, of individuals, of societies, of churches, and of our own selves, and we need to understand how directly the gospel of Jesus Christ conveys a message about identity. This is the intent of a hermeneutics of identity. To call a text “Christian Scripture” is to say “it functions to shape persons’ identities so decisively as to transform them.”[1] Scripture tells us who we are and how we should live because of our identity. David Kelsey in fact suggested regarding seminary curricula, “Except for basic language courses, courses in all subjects could address two questions: Who are we? and How is our communal identity best nurtured and best kept under critical scrutiny?”[2]

A hermeneutics of identity will be aware that the text is about identity, will keep seeking from specific texts in Scripture insight into the identity God desires and gives, and will both seek and allow transformation of identity with every reading. This is not a passive hermeneutic.

Possibly some will think the focus on identity is simplistic or implied in what we already do. This is not true. Identity itself is complex, and too many Christians have little idea of who they are supposed to be. Thus the church needs to focus on a hermeneutics of identity.

Nor is it true that a hermeneutics of identity will lead to self-centeredness. Rightly understood, a biblical hermeneutics of identity excludes self-centeredness and all attempts at ego enhancement. The quest for honor in the ancient Mediterranean world is well known,[3] a quest that Jesus’ disciples assumed legitimate. Repeatedly their concern was who among them was the greatest (Matt. 18:1-5; 20:20-28). This quest for honor was an attempt to get the community to assign value that could be appropriated by the internal self-interpreting memory and translated into self-esteem. The identity that one should be pursuing is the exact opposite of self-glorification, for one’s true identity is not found merely in one’s self. A person’s identity is not merely about him or her; it is about that person in relation with and for people and with and for God. In fact this reorientation is precisely what conversion is about. Conversion is about one’s identity, and conversion is about rewritten autobiographies.

In the previous article I described eight factors I think make up human identity, all of which are addressed repeatedly in Scripture.[4] In addition the identity of God, of Jesus Christ, and of God’s people is continually the subject at hand. Apart from the poetic books, especially Psalms and Job, most of the Old Testament tends to be less focused on the identity of the individual and more on the identity of the people of Israel. The New Testament addresses the individual more directly but never in isolation from the community. A hermeneutics of identity is at home with the Gospels’ presentation of Jesus’ life and teaching. Jesus was concerned to help people know who they were, in view of what God was doing through Jesus’ own ministry.

Jesus is the revelation of God, but He is also the revelation of the character a human is to possess. The Incarnation accomplishes both avenues of revelation. He is the paramount revelation of the image of God.

The Gospels As Identity Documents

In reality people must answer only one question: Who are you? All else is determined by the answer to that question. People frequently came to Jesus and asked, “What must I do?” Jesus, in effect, answered, “Who are you? When you know that, you will know what you must do.” This comment, which I read somewhere long ago, was the origin of my focus on a hermeneutics of identity, although at the time I did not know it, nor did I grasp the significance of this statement, but I never forgot it.

Like all the New Testament writings, the Gospels are identity documents. They seek to map out and convey an identity, to demonstrate what it means to believe in and follow Jesus. If we ask about the purpose of the Gospels, the answer is that the Gospels are intended to form and instruct disciples, that is, the Gospels are focused on the identity of the disciples. The Gospels more often assume the identity of God revealed in the Old Testament than they explain that identity. And the Gospels focus repeatedly on Jesus’ identity. In fact it would not be difficult to use the eight factors composing identity to write a book on the identity of Jesus. Much of the focus on Jesus’ identity is explicit. One thinks immediately of the questions, “Who do people say that I am?” and, “Who do you say that I am?” (Mark 8:27, 29), or the affirmation of the centurion at the cross, “Truly this man was the Son of God” (15:39). Even with regard to Jesus, His identity is a social construct, but the primary witness of Jesus’ identity is not that of humans but that of the Father, a point made repeatedly in the Fourth Gospel (e.g., John 5:30-40). Similar is the frequent question in the Fourth Gospel about Jesus’ origin (e.g., 7:27-28). The assumption is that to know Jesus’ origin is to know His identity. The first chapter of John is instructive. By the end of that chapter every Christological title of any significance has been applied to Jesus. One knows His origin, what He does, His significance, and His relationship to both God and people. The implication of His identity is also clear; people should come to Him and follow Him. Focusing on the identity of Jesus is not for the purpose of acquiring abstract knowledge. In understanding who He is people understand who they are. Identity is a dialogical construct.

Identity In Matthew

In the Gospel of Matthew identity issues spring from almost every page. Immediately we are told about Jesus’ genealogy. He is part of a larger story, the story of God’s work with Israel. As frequently recognized, Jesus took on the task of Israel to accomplish the purposes of God.[5] Already we can anticipate that discipleship will mean being “inserted” into the story of Jesus, who is part of the story of Israel.[6] Identity is a narrative construct, but individual narratives are always part of larger narratives. We think of the narratives of families, cultures, and countries, but for Christians the dominant narrative is that of Jesus and His ongoing work. Jesus’ role in Israel is underscored with the name Immanuel, “God with us” (Matt. 1:21), a name taken from Isaiah 7:14 and epitomized by the temple. At the end of His ministry Jesus vowed His continuing presence with His people until the end of the age (Matt. 28:20). The fulfillment of prophecy also underscores Jesus’ role in God’s purposes for Israel.

The implicit question in the birth narratives is, Who is the real king in Palestine: Herod or this new infant (2:2-3)? John the Baptist identified Pharisees and Sadducees as snakes (3:7) and told the people, in effect, “Do not think your identity is children of Abraham; God can raise up children of Abraham from these stones” (3:9). Physically they were children of Abraham, but they assumed that their spiritual identity was guaranteed by physical origin, an assumption rejected by Old Testament prophets, Jesus, and Paul. While the narrative into which we are placed contributes to our identity, identity cannot be inherited; it must be formed and lived.

At Jesus’ baptism a voice from heaven—the voice of God the Father—asserted Jesus’ identity: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased” (3:17). The temptation of Jesus related to His identity: “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread,” in effect, “Prove your identity” (4:3). Jesus’ calling of Simon and Andrew gave them a new relationship, a new task, and with it a new identity; they would become fishers of people (4:19).

The Sermon on the Mount is largely an identity document showing what it means to be a disciple. Statements about the character and the intent of the beatitudes often fail to do justice to them. People debate whether the beatitudes effect what they announce, whether they refer to present or future eschatology or both, and just how μακάριοι (“blessed”) should be understood. The beatitudes and the Sermon as a whole are not law, but as W. D. Davies said, they are the bright light of the gospel.[7] They are both a declaration of the kingdom and a call. With the allusion to Isaiah 61:1-3 in the beatitudes concerning the poor in spirit and those who mourn, the presence of the kingdom is implied, just as in other texts that allude to Isaiah 61 (Matt. 11:5; Luke 4:18-21; 7:22).

Dallas Willard is wrong in saying the beatitudes are not to be lived,[8] which is obvious if one considers the beatitudes of hungering for righteousness, mercy, purity of heart, peacemaking, and being persecuted. Who could think Jesus does not want these descriptions to be realities? The beatitudes are identity markers of those conscious of and shaped by the kingdom. Matthew rethreaded the themes of the beatitudes throughout his Gospel.[9] The beatitudes are like a table of contents for Matthew’s Gospel, which shows just how seriously they should be taken. The beatitudes are then followed by further identity statements: “You are the salt of the earth . . . . You are the light of the world” (Matt. 5:13-14).

The descriptions of disciples as salt and light are not hyperbole or wishful thinking, and obviously the descriptions are true only because of the disciples’ relationship to Jesus. The descriptions enlist disciples into this identity; they are the equivalent of performative language.[10]

If we reflect further on the beatitudes and the factors that make up identity that were presented in the first article, the beatitudes relate especially to the internal self-interpreting memory, which Scripture often refers to by the word “heart.” “Blessed are the poor in spirit” and “blessed are the meek” both have to do with the rejection of arrogance and the realization of the need for God. The first beatitude, “poor in spirit,” is an allusion to Isaiah 61:1, as mentioned earlier, and the third, with reference to “the meek,” alludes to Psalm 37:11. What often goes unnoticed because two different Greek words are used in Matthew—πτωχοί and πραεῖς—is that these two Old Testament texts use the same Hebrew word for “the poor” (עֲנָוִים), at times almost a title for God’s people, that is, those who need God’s intervention and know it.

Several other beatitudes also deal with the internal self-interpreting memory. “Hungering and thirsting for righteousness,” “merciful,” “pure with respect to the heart,” and “peacemakers” urge that in the deepest controlling, valuing, and organizing part of our identity there must be honesty, good will, and desire for good relations both with God and with people, not self-deception, malice, and violation of boundaries. This raises the crucial question of how we address and change our internal, self-interpreting memory to achieve purity of heart when the very thing we want to change is in control of the change. Self-deception is the most prevalent human ailment. As Blaise Pascal put it, “Our own interest is again a marvelous instrument for nicely putting out our eyes.”[11] What will allow us to be honest, to see, and to change? Clearly the work of the Spirit is required, but no simple answer will suffice. The whole of Jesus’ teaching is geared to confront and rearrange a person’s thinking about identity. Also the community has a role in the formation of individual identity as it engages, confronts, and teaches. Jesus’ teaching and the community both confront and encourage internal change.

In the previous article I said with regard to the first factor concerning identity, namely, our physical and psychological characteristics, that some parts are given and some are chosen. We are born with innate tendencies, but we also learn to enhance or curtail tendencies. We choose what will guide us and whether we will control anger and desire and other tendencies. The assumption of Jesus’ teaching is that the identity He described is the identity people should have, what God intended from the beginning, and that if people see that identity, they will want to choose and can choose that identity and by God’s grace grow into it. Yes, we all feel we fall short of the Sermon on the Mount, and rightly so, but its purpose is not to make us feel this ideal is impossible. It is to hold this model up for emulation, to say this is the model one should choose.

The history of the interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount is depressing. People spend more time arguing why we should not or cannot keep the Sermon on the Mount than seeking to understand it and live it.[12] Is the Sermon an impossible ideal, too difficult for mere humans? What is difficult is a life of sin. Too many people, Christians included, think that a life of sin is easy and a righteous life is impossible. Seneca (4 B.C.–A.D. 65), like other philosophers, asserted, “The road to the happy life is an easy one. The maintenance of all virtues is easy, but it is costly to cultivate the vices.”[13] If a Roman philosopher understood that, surely Christians have better reasons to come to the same conclusion. Jesus held up the ethical qualities He did because they embody what life should be and they enable true living. The Sermon is not too hard.

If we consider the kind of people described in the Sermon on the Mount, the type of community promoted by such people is attractive. This would be a community where people not only did not murder but controlled their feelings toward others as well; where men not only did not commit adultery but also did not lust or treat women merely as sexual objects; where people kept their marriage vows, told the truth, did not retaliate, and even loved their enemies. Imagine such a community where people did not use religion as a means of self-promotion and were not controlled by desire for money, the themes of Matthew 6.

This is not a utopian idea, and the Sermon is not intended merely to convict of sin. This is the identity to which Jesus called His disciples and the kind of community Christians should form. Both Matthew and Jesus not only thought this is possible, but they believed this is precisely what you need to know about discipleship, what God wants, and what you can do, which is the reason Matthew placed it in his Gospel as the first recorded teaching of Jesus. Matthew thought that if one understood this ethical call, one would want to follow Jesus and would understand the rest of the story more easily.

How can such a community come into being? In 5:44-45 disciples are instructed, “Love your enemies . . . so that you may be children of your Father who is in heaven.” We blanch at the idea of performance, fearing that it is works righteousness, but neither Matthew nor Jesus was worried about works righteousness. Their concern was much more the failure of righteousness. The theology at work here is that humans are to take their character from God, which is the consistent teaching of Scripture. If our heavenly Father loves His enemies, can we do less? To be a child of God means to be characterized by Him. God’s people take their identity from His, for humans were created in the image of God. Matthew 5:44-48 is an identity text that keeps being, thinking, and doing together. Performance and identity are directly linked. You cannot be without doing. Identity is shown by action. By obedience we live into an identity we have from God. This is not performance on our own; it is performance as God’s children. As unfolded in Matthew 7:15-27, good fruit comes from good trees. This too is about identity, and true followers are those who hear and do. Doing demonstrates identity.

The Sermon on the Mount is not legalism, and its purpose is not to convict people of their sins. The Sermon tells people who they are to be and what they are to do. Other sayings of Jesus in Matthew make the same points: “Whoever does the will of My Father who is in heaven is My brother and sister and mother” (12:50). “You hypocrites, rightly did Isaiah prophesy of you: ‘This people honors Me with their lips but their heart [their true identity] is far away from Me’ “(15:7-8).

The call to discipleship is clearly a call for a new identity, and this is evidenced as much as anywhere in the classic statement on discipleship in Matthew 16:24. To deny self is to refuse to let one’s own identity be determinative in order to be redefined by the character and life of Jesus. In effect Jesus told His disciples to give up on their own identity and to take His, which involves carrying a cross, the willingness to die.[14] We find life by losing it. Relations, especially family relations, are crucial aspects of our identity. In our society possessions are also given a huge role in evaluating one’s identity, a role that is false and artificial. What is clear in discussions of discipleship is that these two arenas, family relations and possessions, are the biggest obstacles—and therefore the biggest opportunities—for discipleship. Luke 14:25-26, 33 are most obvious in this regard;[15] no one is able to be Jesus’ disciple who loves family more than following Him and who is not willing to say good-bye to possessions. One’s ultimate defining force for identity is following Jesus, and bearing one’s cross, not having family, possessions, or any other factor. As Jesus pointed out elsewhere (Matt. 15:3-9), this does not obviate responsibility to family.

Identity In Selected Parables

Jesus sought and still seeks to change identity, and when we pay attention to this, texts take on deeper contours. Especially revealing is the parable of the two sons and the compassionate father, more commonly known as the parable of the prodigal son. If identity is composed of, among other things, relations, commitments, and boundaries, Luke 15:11-32 (a double indirect parable mirroring God’s forgiveness and challenging attitudes of the “righteous”) is a model for a hermeneutics of identity.[16] The parable starts with identities in relationships and assumes the freedom of those identities to make choices, even bad ones, but choices have consequences. The prodigal, like so many today, thought identity is enhanced by possessions and life without boundaries. Then, as Volf says, the prodigal attempts to “unson” himself.[17] He wants to change his geography, his commitments, his actions, his relations, and his boundaries. After losing all his possessions he finds himself in a far country where it is quite clear that he does not belong. He makes alliances that do not fit his identity and performs actions that are degrading. This is not who he is. Then in one of the most striking and insightful comments ever the text says, “He came to himself” (v. 17), implying that sin is the inability or the refusal to live in accord with one’s true identity. Sin is fracture, fragmentation, including fragmentation from and within ourselves. All of us are bifurcated by the refusal to affirm the reality of our true identity. The prodigal finally understood his true identity. He was a son of his father. The truth allows us to come to ourselves; only there do we know who we are. But the prodigal decided he was not worthy of his own identity, and so he chose something less (v. 19). He chose to be a hired hand, but his identity was not that of a hired hand. He was a son. Grace lets us be who we are supposed to be even though we do not deserve to. Grace enables truth.

God’s identity is also mirrored in the text. God is the gracious one, always compassionate and receptive. His identity and relationships to humans determine their identity. With his embrace the father verified the son’s identity. The father insisted on the son’s identity as a son and commanded the servants to recognize him as such by giving him appropriate clothes, a ring, and sandals, in celebrating his return. Worthy of celebration, he was revived, recovered, and restored as a son to his father. Volf’s emphasis on the willingness to embrace even one’s enemies is drawn from the father’s action in the parable.

Issues of identity also drive the second stage of the parable. The elder brother showed himself to be suspicious of joy, and to be jealous and judgmental. He rejected the identity of his brother, calling him “this son of yours” (v. 30) and sought to exclude any relationship with him. But the father insisted the prodigal was “this brother of yours” (v. 32). Further, the elder misinterpreted his own identity. He viewed himself as a mistreated slave, but the father insisted that he too was a son, a privileged one at that. Whether the elder rearranged his thinking and joined the celebration is left open, which is a narrative device that forces the reader to decide how he or she would respond.

While the ultimate defining force is given only to one’s relationship with God, the parable implies that other relations still have their place. Here and in numerous texts we are reminded that our relationship to God is not an individual affair. In being joined to God we are joined to the people of God, and we are to live as people willing to embrace.

One of the more striking texts on identity is the narrative in Luke 7:36-50 with the brief parable of the two debtors. The narrative describes a meal at the home of Simon, a Pharisee, a person recognized as righteous and concerned with purity issues, especially regarding meals. Jesus no doubt was invited in order to honor Him as a respected guest, and in turn His presence would have honored the Pharisee. During the meal the men would have been lying on cushions with their feet angled away from the food, and others (neighbors, servants, or women) who wanted to hear would have gathered at the perimeter. A woman recognized as a sinner was present; she was probably (but not necessarily) a prostitute.[18] She performed acts which in the first century were viewed as completely inappropriate. She anointed Jesus’ feet with costly perfume, kissed His feet, and let her hair down to dry His feet. Letting her hair down in public would have been especially offensive.[19]

Questions of identity dominate the narrative. The identities of Jesus, the woman, and the Pharisee were all at stake. The Pharisee had at least entertained notions that Jesus was a prophet, but in his mind Jesus’ tolerance of the woman’s actions proved otherwise. If He were a prophet, Jesus should have perceived what sort of woman she was and rejected her, but the narrative shows that Jesus is a prophet and much more. He perceived what was in the heart of Simon and also announced forgiveness of sins. Simon assumed the woman was a sinner, but Jesus identified her as a forgiven sinner. An implicit question in the narrative is, Who is righteous?[20] Simon was assumed by the community—and probably by himself—to be righteous, but Jesus said the woman was more righteous than Simon because of her actions and her forgiveness!

In this text, as elsewhere, issues of the relationship of faith and works are present. Luke 7:47 has caused consternation for interpreters, for it seems that the woman was forgiven because of her action. Other parts of the narrative create tension with this cause-and-effect relationship. In the embedded parable (vv. 41-42) forgiveness of both debtors is granted by the creditor for no reason, and the end of the narrative declares that her faith saved her (7:50), a rare statement in the Gospels. No doubt the woman’s actions were a response to Jesus’ previous teaching or actions, but neither Jesus nor any of the evangelists was concerned with the faith-works discussion or an ordo salutis. What is clear is that the woman’s encounter resulted in action. A change in identity results in appropriate action. The relationship of love and faith in this passage is worth noting. We often—wrongly—see them as separate, but in this passage they clearly are virtually parallel. Both faith and love are relational, relational determiners of identity, and it seems impossible that one could have faith and not love or vice versa.

Not every text is explicitly about identity, but even those that do not seem to be explicitly about identity are driven by identity issues or have identity issues lurking underneath. A hermeneutics of identity will probe texts for such factors and bring them to light, and in doing so life and faith are revealed.

A text that on the surface seems minimally about identity is the so-called parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25:31-46. I say “so-called” because only verses 32b–33 are parabolic. The picture of judgment in this narrative is well known, but what it depicts is heavily debated. Is this a picture relating to treatment of Jews during the tribulation? Or is it a picture on how people have treated Christian missionaries? No one would have thought of such an interpretation except for the somewhat similar words in Matthew 10:42: “And whoever in the name of a disciple gives to one of these little ones even a cup of cold water to drink, truly I say to you, he shall not lose his reward.”[21] Is the passage a picture of judgment of people who never heard the gospel? Is it a picture of universal judgment? All these positions have been proposed.[22]

The debate will continue, but it seems difficult to suppose that Jesus or Matthew had any thought other than that this judgment will be an assessment of whether people loved God and neighbor. The consistent teaching of Scripture is that judgment is according to works, even though few do justice to this theme. The commands to love and show mercy were of major concern to Matthew and clearly were central to Jesus’ message in all the Gospels. This passage assumes what Scripture emphasizes frequently, namely, that a relationship to God cannot be separated from relationships with neighbors—”To the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me” (25:40).

The important point to notice is that the acts of compassion were not done to impress the king or gain his favor. They were not driven by some ulterior motive or performed as religious acts to be seen, unlike the descriptions in Matthew 6:1-5. They were acts of compassion from compassionate people living out their identity. Judgment is an assessment of what identity was on display by the acts performed or not performed. Judgment merely asks, “What kind of person are you, and how did you show it?”

Discussions by identity theorists frequently treat morality as part of identity. The self-awareness of humans, that internal self-interpreting memory, involves values, accountability, responsibility, and self-esteem (or self-evaluation). Ricoeur defines the ethical intention as “aiming at the ‘good life’ with and for others, in just institutions.”[23] The fact that we exist with others gives us responsibility and accountability, and the judgment scene is an evaluation of whether we have lived responsibly or not. Works righteousness is not in view. More needs to be said about judgment than this one text provides, but one should not say less than it does.

Another aspect of identity should be remembered here. Identity has a future component to it, not only within life but beyond it. Eschatological texts like this one point to an ongoing identity, one that is open to and participates in the future kingdom.

Any number of texts could be included in a discussion of Jesus and identity. To mention a few among the most obvious, the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13-21) shows explicitly that identity is not in possessions. The parable of the good Samaritan prohibits the drawing of boundaries for compassion around oneself and one’s own kind and shows how far the love command regarding neighbor should go. The parable of the banquet in Luke 14:16-24 is about those who think their identity is “the elect ones” but are mistaken. The occurrences of καλέω in this context draw attention to the identity of the true elect. It is not those who presume they are elect, so much so that they decline the invitation to the banquet, but those who actually respond to the call of God. Mark 3:31-35 redraws the definition of family to include all those doing the will of the Father.

Identity In John

John 3:6 underscores a new origin and a new identity for those reborn by the Spirit: “That which is born of the flesh is [has the character of] flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is [has the character of] Spirit.” The focus on the identity of Jesus and His followers is perhaps stronger in John than anywhere else in the New Testament. Identity is unfolded in an interesting way in this Gospel’s use of μένειν, “to remain, to stay.” We are not surprised to read the witness of John the Baptist, presumably at Jesus’ baptism, that he saw the Spirit descending and remaining on Jesus (1:32-33). This one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit was therefore recognized as the Son of God. But an interesting exchange, seemingly mundane but not mundane, is recorded in verses 38-39. When Jesus saw two disciples of John following Him, He asked them, “What are you seeking?”—which is itself an identity question. They responded, “Rabbi . . . where are You staying?” or more literally, “Where are You remaining?” Jesus merely responded, “Come and you will see,” and they came and saw where He was remaining and they remained with Him that day. The theme of “remaining” runs throughout John’s Gospel and is important theologically. Sometimes the word is used in a mundane way. For example Jesus stayed (remained) two days in a Samaritan village (4:40). A number of uses are like this, but as the Gospel reveals later, where Jesus really remains is with the Father, and His disciples are to remain there with Him.

Along the way other aspects of the theme of remaining are seen. God’s Word should remain in people (5:38), and they should seek nourishment from the Son of Man “which endures [remains] to eternal life” (6:27). In 6:56, without preparation, suddenly the message is that the person who eats Jesus’ flesh and drinks His blood remains in Him and He remains in that person. The thought is close to Paul’s participationist terms of being in Christ. One of the steps leading to my focus on a hermeneutics of identity was this thought of being in or remaining in Christ. Struggling with this thought led to the statement “geography is identity.” Whether one lives in Christ or lives elsewhere forms identity. In 12:46 Jesus referred to living in darkness.

John 8:31-32 states that not only should the Word remain in people but also people should remain in Jesus’ Word. By remaining—strikingly—they find freedom. Jesus’ Word remains in them, they become disciples, know the truth, and the truth frees them (vv. 32-33).

In John 14:10 the foundational idea appears. Jesus is in the Father, and the Father is in Him and remains in Him to do His works. In 14:17 the same Spirit who remained on Jesus is said to remain in the believer. Of course it is especially in chapter 15 that this theology of identity comes to full expression. Jesus is the vine, the Father is the gardener, and disciples are the branches who are to remain in Jesus as He remains in them. This geography creates an identity that produces. Identity is not an abstract notion. It is always embodied, and it always acts. The only question is what kind of identity is present and active. This is reinforced in 15:9-10. Remaining in Jesus is the equivalent of remaining in His love (v. 9), and one remains in His love by keeping (obeying) His commands just as Jesus kept the commands of God the Father and remains in His love (v. 10). Again the focus on identity leads directly to performance. Identity must act, and only in acting is identity revealed. People do what they are.

Being in Christ is a reality, even if it cannot be understood literally. In terms of identity this language expresses several important points. The focus is clearly on a close relationship to Jesus, a relationship so close that it transforms one’s identity. This occasions no surprise, since relations are one of the key components in identity anyway. The image of being in Christ also has to do with commitments and boundaries. If one is in Christ, the commitments of Christ expressed in His Word and His commands become the commitments of that person, and Christ’s approach to boundaries—both boundaries rejected and boundaries not violated—become the approach of the person as well. A direct parallel to these thoughts is evident in John 10 with Jesus as the Good Shepherd whose sheep hear His voice, know Him, and follow Him.

Conclusion

What can be learned from Jesus about identity? Several accounts show that action—doing—is closely related to identity. One cannot be without doing. If we seek to define ourselves, we cannot describe being abstractly; we can only speak of location, relations, thinking (especially evaluations), and actions. These are topics Jesus addressed to help people understand who they are to be. His concern is identity, and ours should be as well.

A hermeneutics of identity urges the integration of faith and life. Too frequently issues of faith, although much discussed, are foreign to our being. Unfortunately we often tear apart thinking and acting. In doing so, we compartmentalize faith into something we think but which does not flow authentically from us. Actions, if they occur, are too frequently artificial and not true expressions of who we are. We wear faith as a form but do not know its transforming power. Authenticity is lost. Humans always have the ability to deceive themselves in their internal self, often because of some thought of self-defense; so convincing ourselves of the validity of a hermeneutics of identity will not insure authenticity. Still, a hermeneutics of identity offers an opportunity for us not to be foreign to ourselves and even to confront our own self-deception as we become schooled in what makes identity and how it functions.

One of the biggest problems with many Christians is their misunderstanding of faith and works. Obedience even takes on a negative connotation, but what is quite clear from Jesus’ teaching (and the rest of Scripture) is that action—works—are absolutely essential. You will work; the only question is, From what identity will you work?

The other obvious fact in looking at Jesus’ teaching is that it is Jesus Himself, His compassion, His obedience to the will of the Father, and especially His willingness to give Himself, the willingness to die, which deserves an ultimate defining force in believers’ lives. His lack of self-seeking insures that a focus on identity is not about self-centeredness.

Søren Kierkegaard offered a prayer that is a fitting response to Jesus’ teaching and call: “And now, with God’s help, I shall become myself.”[24]

Notes

1. David Kelsey, The Uses of Scripture in Recent Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 91.
2. David Kelsey, “A Theological Curriculum about and against the Church,” in Beyond Clericalism: The Congregation as a Focus for Theological Education, ed. Joseph C. Hough and Barbara G. Wheeler (Atlanta: Scholars, 1988), 43.
3. Bruce Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Atlanta: John Knox, 1981), 27-50.
4. These are one’s physical and psychical makeup, one’s history, one’s relations, one’s commitments, one’s boundaries, an ongoing process of change, an internal self-interpreting memory, and one’s future. See Klyne R. Snodgrass, “Introduction to a Hermeneutics of Identity,” Bibliotheca Sacra 168 (January–March 2011): 3-19.
5. N. T. Wright, Christian Origins and the Question of God, vol. 2 of Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996).
6. As Alasdair MacIntyre says, “I can only answer the question, ‘What am I to do?’ if I can answer the prior question, ‘Of what story or stories do I find myself a part?” (After Virtue: A Study of Moral Theory, 3rd ed. [Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007], 216).
7. W. D. Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1966), 437.
8. Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1998), 106.
9. On the poor in spirit see Matthew 18:4; 19:16-30; 20:20-28; 23:23. On those who mourn see 11:28. On the meek see 11:29 and 21:5. On hungering and thirsting for righteousness compare 5:20; 6:10, 33; and 7:7-8. On mercy see 6:2; 9:13; 12:7; 18:23-35; 23:23; and 25:31-46. On purity of heart see 5:21-30; 6:21; 12:34; 15:18-19; 22:37; and 23:26. On peacemakers see 5:38-48. On persecution for righteousness see 10:16-39; 16:24; 21:35-39; 22:6; 23:29-36; and 24:9.
10. Charles Talbert, at the section on character formation of the Society of Biblical Literature on November 23, 2009, emphasized the Gospels’ focus on Jesus as a model and on His use of performative language in statements like “You are the light of the world.” The vision of the good promotes its achievement. This describes the character of the Sermon on the Mount.
11. Pensées (New York: Random House, 1941), 82.
12. See Clarence Bauman, The Sermon on the Mount: The Modern Quest for Its Meaning (Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1985).
13. Seneca, On Anger 2.13.2-3.
14. Ψυχή in 16:25-26 is parallel to ἑαυτὸν in 16:24 and possibly should be translated “self” instead of “life,” the more common meaning (cf. Luke 12:19-21). Possibly this involves a double entendré with “self” and “life” both in view.
15. See also Luke 9:57-62; 14:15-24; and the account of the rich young ruler in 18:18-23. The use of “hate” in 14:26 is a Semitic way of expressing priority. Jesus was not calling for literal hate (cf. John 12:25 and Rom. 9:13, quoting part of Mal. 1:2-3).
16. See Klyne R. Snodgrass, Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 117-43.
17. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), 158.
18. See Barbara E. Reid, “‘Do You See This Woman?’ Luke 7:36-50 as a Paradigm for Feminist Hermeneutics,” Biblical Research 40 (1995): 37-49.
19. Mishnah Keth. 7:6 says a woman is not to go outdoors with her head uncovered. For more evidence on this and other cultural issues in this parable see Snodgrass, Stories with Intent, 82-83.
20. This theme is addressed elsewhere in Luke, especially in the contrast between the tax collector and the Pharisee (Luke 18:9-14).
21. Is this view attractive because it avoids the faith-works dichotomy?
22. For a more detailed treatment of this passage see Snodgrass, Stories with Intent, 543-64.
23. Paul Ricoeur, Oneself as Another, trans. Kathleen Blamey (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 172 (italics his).
24. Søren Kierkegaard, The Prayers of Kierkegaard, ed. Perry LeFevre (Chicago: Chicago University Press,1956), 147.