Identity

Identity is a constellation and collective of the distinctive characteristics and values that one shares with others as well as those concepts and ideals that distinguishes a person or a group from one another. As we've seen in the recent political conversation, when identity is challenged or diminished, or even affirmed, it stirs up strong emotion and reactionary behavior. It can further entrench one's identification with a group even while one's perceived role in society is shifting. For some, the movement may be from having power to being victimized and for others, from diminishment to empowerment. So what happens when God enters into that mix? Can God reorient us to another more transformative identity?

  icon at the Church at Jacob's Well

I found myself asking such questions the morning my pastor gal pals and I headed off to Nablus in the north-central part of the West Bank. We were in search of the elusive site of the Women at the Well story. This had been Wendy's request since it was the sermon text of her ordination service 11 years ago. I say elusive because this site doesn't show up on many (if any) Holy Land tours we found on line and Google was of little help. Several days before our trip, Iyad had looked at me incredulously when I told him we had had trouble locating the spot. He said, "Why didn't you ask, I was born there!" Of course my personal savant of all things holy in the Israel/Palestine would know exactly where it was! How silly of me not to have asked him about it months ago.

Very early, three of us gals jumped in my car and started driving north. I considered it a grand success that we only got lost twice. Have I mentioned that our stateside navigational tools don't work in the West Bank? That includes my IPhone Maps, Google Maps, or the Palestinian GPS tracker I bought here. And accurate, detailed maps are something neither the Israelis nor the Palestinians seem to value much.

Once through the various checkpoints and out of the traffic of Jerusalem and Ramallah the drive turned out to be very beautiful. The rolling landscape is dotted with olive trees, Palestinian villages, and, unfortunately, many rather large Jewish settlements. It was disheartening to see so many distinctive red roofs in the heart of the West Bank.

We arrived in Nablus about 8:30 am and immediately went looking for coffee. Unlike Bethlehem, a city that caters to tourists, in Nablus there are no internet cafes and no "Stars and Bucks" on the main street. There are automotive shops, an open air farmers' market, dozens and dozens of bakeries, offices and stores but no discernible places that sold coffee. We finally parked and decided to try our luck walking. We spied some men drinking coffee outside in an alley and we all but tripped over ourselves to see if someone sold coffee nearby. Fortunately for our caffeine deprived brains, a little shop sold the Turkish brew. We were offered the chance to smoke flavored tobacco with a hookah, something we declined.  I mean, really, who can smoke that early in the morning?

Muslim women in Nablus

I must admit, it was a bit disconcerting to be the only women in the vicinity. We sat huddled around the one table inside the shop leaving the men to their male bonding ritual outside. It was clear we were intruding in their space. If that wasn't enough, what made us all the more "foreign" was the fact that we didn't have our heads covered. What dawned on us in the morning proved to be true throughout the day - we were the only women we saw not wearing the traditional Muslim head covering. Given that we were in a city of 130,000, this made us obvious outsiders.

After quickly downing our Turkish coffee, we headed to the Church of St. Photina, the Greek Orthodox Church built over Jacob's Well. Once inside the church, we were dazzled by the beautiful icons and were delighted to meet the priest who painted them. We read the story from John 4 noting that this is one of the longest dialogues Jesus has in the gospels and, surprisingly, it was with a woman! We drank water from the well imagining what Jesus' words of supplying living water might have meant to her. It very was meaningful to me.

Like us, Jesus was also an outsider here in this ancient Samaritan city. He came to people who were hostile to his beliefs and his way of life. They spoke different languages, engaged in different worship practices, and had very different and competing perceptions of one another. When he arrived at Jacob's Well, he displayed his lack of cultural sensitivity by doing something unthinkable: he spoke to a woman. To make matters worse, this woman was also his enemy. When asking for help to retrieve the water, he expected kindness when antipathy should have anticipated. When discussing religious differences, he showed personal concern when animus would have been normal. When zeroing in on the woman's deep longing for God's true hope and grace, he generously reveals himself as the One who brings reconciliation. In Jesus, the insider/outsider distinction is shattered. He offers her and those like her a new identity, one that is centered in him. In Jesus, no one is in or out. They are just accepted, loved, and transformed.

Today as I write this, Israel and Gaza are lobbing rockets at one other. A few of them have landed not too far away from where I'm living. Operation "Amud Anan" literally means "Pillar of Cloud" so named after the divine cloud that served as a compass for the children of Israel during their exodus from Egypt. Concerned that the biblical reference might be lost on the Americans, the military has translated this phrase into English as "Pillar of Defense" in order to justify Israel's actions.

flooring  at the Church at Jacob's Well

From my perspective, such naming is an exigent expression of defining who is in and who is out. The competing narratives between the Israelis, those in Gaza, and the rest of the Palestinians are difficult to sort through. Each side has multiple perspectives and the definitions of justice are quite different for each. The human proclivity to blame, defend, and claim victimized status without taking any responsibility is evident on all sides. When each group feels justified, it is not surprising that retaliation escalates into extreme violence. Even so, there are gross power imbalances here. And I in no way intend to suggest that the Israelis, the Gazans, and the Palestinians are equals in this conflict. They are not. But while not of equal power, influence, or might, it is still is true that everyone in this conflict has legitimate perspectives and complaints. All sides have some responsibility for causing others to suffer.

icon at the Church at Jacob's Well

So I find myself wondering what would happen if instead of the "pillar of defense," all the players in this drama would seek the pillar of cloud of God's presence. Would not God expose the dehumanization, the oppression, the myth that peace and protection can be achieved only by violence? Could trust be rebuilt through empathy, confession and grace? But here, even such discussions would be staged in tactical terms and would not be conducted with any kind of commitment towards a love that transforms. Hope is measured in minuscule and often indiscernible increments of strategic "wins." Progress is elusive and, when perceived as long overdue entitlements, is rarely acknowledged or celebrated. How does my life mirror such brokenness?

Jesus knew what it was like to be an outsider even though he was the One who had all power and truth. His ministry functioned beyond the limits of the religious elite of his day and he purposely identified with those who were marginalized. In the story of the Woman at the Well, Jesus intentionally approached her as an outsider. This woman, who was an outsider within her own village, was immediately affirmed as the insider when Jesus spoke to her. She was given the upper hand, one that afforded her power and insight. After all, this was her territory and Jesus was the "invading" one. Somehow, through this reversal from marginalized among her villagers to a valued interpreter of her religious tradition, she came to perceive herself as she truly was. This heightened her own existential thirst and need and primed her receptivity for something new and healing. Her defenses dissipated and she experienced contagious grace centered in Christ.

Given the complexity of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, and so many others that are heightened here in Jerusalem (think ecumenical conflicts at the various holy sites), it may sound trite to say we need to look to Christ. I know it can seem so in the complexities of my own life. However, Jesus demonstrates the importance of approaching such complexity with the stance of an outsider.  Laying aside a claim of superiority or self-righteous justification, he also refuses to define himself as a helpless victim. Instead, he empathizes with the one in temporary power, ultimately challenging the other's identity and world view. This first century Palestinian Jewish Son of God is the only one who can both affirm and expose our distorted identities, unveil our true longings, and offer permeating grace and transformative change.

I want to believe that such transformation is possible - for the Palestinians and the Israelis. Yes, even for the Catholics, the Armenians, and the Orthodox. And even more so, for me and for those whom I have left out in the cold. But this is only possible if I, if we, follow the leading of the divine pillar of cloud and not the pillar of defense we have re-created and manipulated to shore up our old, outdated and faulty sense of self.

May God have mercy on us.

stained glass window at the Church at Jacob's Well