"Who Am I?"

Someone only a few years older than me (I’m 55) had his first conversation with his wife about the “R-word”. For some retirement means graduation from the daily grind into a glorious new life of unbridled freedom. It means traveling in the RV, unlimited golf, visiting the grandkids whenever the mood strikes, finally having time to make that garden all it could be, napping in the middle of any day, reading books you always wanted to read, and maybe even volunteering in the church and community a bit. My friend, a pastor of over 30 years talked about none of those things related to his retirement. For him it was not a pleasant conversation. The burning question for him had nothing to do with retirement finances or the things he would be able to do. He confessed, “My whole purpose and identity is wrapped up in being a pastor. When I’m no longer a pastor the haunting question is: who am I?”

Most of us derive our self-image and identity from our career or some on-going significant contribution made to family or community. We like to be contributors. It feels good to make a difference. When the ability and/or opportunity to contribute is radically diminished because of aging or long-term illness or being laid-off we can suddenly face a serious identity crisis. The great German pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer had such a crisis near the end of his life.

Still in his 30s, Bonhoeffer had become one of the world’s leading Christian theologians. He was a gifted writer, leader, and authentic pastor in a time and place that severely tried the hearts of all pastors. Imprisoned by the Nazis for speaking out and working against the evil regime of Hitler, Bonhoeffer suddenly found his opportunities to contribute radically diminished. He did what he could from a prison cell… wrote letters and encouraged fellow prisoners. But even the great Bonhoeffer had his moments when he struggled with that question: “Who am I?” In fact, a poem he wrote from Tegel Prison communicates well his inner struggle.

“Who Am I?”

By Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?

Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!

I find so much meaning and self-identity as a pastor, father, husband, son, brother, friend. By the grace of God I can still contribute. But in the end, when my ability and/or opportunity to contribute is severely diminished, I hope to be able to say as Bonhoeffer said, “Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!”