Who Are You? Cause I Really Wanna Know.
My first-ever interpretation of Biblical scripture. But, first a story about an alpine plant.
I haven’t read much of the Bible. Ever. Though I went to Sunday School every week as a child. For me, scripture has been the Earth. Her stories of love, reciprocity, greed at times, but more often altruism. This past year, I’ve been reflecting on the topic of my PhD thesis about an alpine plant. Alpine avens is altruistic. The plant produces secondary chemicals accumulating them up to 20% by weight in its tissues. Most plants don’t store more than 2-5%. And those species who store more use the chemicals for their benefit to defend themselves from being eaten.
Alpine avens produces the chemicals. Stores them. Gets eaten anyway. And, then the chemicals are lost when the leaves die back each autumn. The decaying leaves packed with the secondary chemicals don’t lose nitrogen over winter. So, I learned during my PhD. And, the soil where this plant grows is low in the forms of nitrogen that are water-loving and flow wherever the water goes. The alpine has steep, rocky hillslopes and piles of snow that melt each spring. It’s a place that loses nitrogen. Alpine avens produces chemicals that hold onto nitrogen for everyone, other plant species and us too. Nitrogen is a pollutant we emit, and it’s great to have a plant that tucks it away, as alpine avens does. Whereas for plants, they need the nitrogen to grow and can often grow more when there is more in the soil.
The Earth is scripture. She’s taught me a lot. I’m beginning to share the full stories, though it has taken some time to live into sharing science this way. Of speaking of the Earth as scripture.
Theology school is helping. Though, the task I’m asked to do there is write about the Bible as Scripture, as text that relates to our lives and enlivens us. Here’s a first go at that. First the text, then the interpretation.
The Testimony of John the Baptist
19 This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” 20 He confessed and did not deny it, but he confessed, “I am not the Messiah.”[a] 21 And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” 22 Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” 23 He said,
“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ ”as the prophet Isaiah said.24 Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. 25 They asked him, “Why, then, are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah,[b] nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” 26 John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, 27 the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandal.” 28 This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing. John 1:19-28
“What are you up to these days?”, asked someone at my college when they peeked into my office this spring. They do not know me, though this is not their first year and I’m a visible faculty. I chose visibility as part of how I grow space for ideas and students in the world. For students to be in relationship with me and me in relationship with others, and thereby they are in relationship with all who know me. I believe this is one of the most important things I can offer students, especially those whose families lack visibility in the scientific endeavors that most students in my courses plan to pursue.
The colleague and I have rarely spoken. When we do, they always speak of the time they saw me in the grocery store years ago, which they did today and is an odd thing to have retold to me. It is a small town. One can expect to always see someone they know at the grocery store. There was no connection in that moment years ago. We simply acknowledged knowing one another.
I’ll venture one other bit -- visible, forthright folks are often avoided. We may say something one would rather not hear.
Jesus was forthright. Though many sought him, the Pharisees might have wanted to know about him without directly engaging with him lest they be told something confronting. So, the Pharisees sent folks to investigate for them, priests and Levites. The question my colleague asked me this spring was not really what I’m up to. It was ‘who are you?’ I expect they had heard things I’ve said lately about education as transformational, about possibilities to add to what we do in higher education. To teach more about who we are and why we are.
Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
'Cause I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?) (The Who)
My colleague diverted their attention to the books on my desk, ones I had chosen to leave near the door for the curious. Victor Frankl’s ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’. A book on how to lead like Jesus. A book from a theology course on identity and power ‘My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies’ by Resmaa Menakem. None were on science or climate change. Their question, what are you up to these days, was fair.
“Who are you that I do not know you?” and “May I know you?” are alternate meanings of “who are you?” in Hindi. I like the sincerity of “May I know you?”. There is vulnerability in this phrasing – the person may say “no” and “no” may be fair to say.
“May I know you?” dissolves hierarchy, obligation to reveal, to be truthful, which is important if truthfulness has been avoided or could lead to consequences imposed by the person asking if they have more power.
Also, in finding this exploration in Hindi of ‘who are you?’, I thought about how making sense of a person, one of whom we have heard and think we might know, then realize we do not know, is not limited to place, religion, culture or time.
My colleague had the Jesus book in their hands when I answered, ‘I started theology school in the fall’. An inquisitive look came across their face. It was a good sign. And the conversation that followed will hopefully ensure the grocery store moment won’t need to be told again, though what I shared was the safest version of baptized by Spirit that I could tell. Of Falling Upward.
Can you picture being John? Someone who is compelled to baptize. Folks coming to meet him, stepping into the turbid (a science word for water with a lot of particulate matter, i.e. dirt) water of the Jordan, and submerging. Going under in water that one cannot see into or see out of once in. Trusting John. But, not receiving? Not receiving Spirit during the baptism, because John is not the one who could offer this.
“What are you up to these days?”, the priests ask John. John doesn’t offer, “Oh, you know, I’m baptizing folks.” He offers who he isn’t.
Why? Here’s my guess. Folks had met Jesus. Been wowed. Folks had been lining up. Sitting down with him. Bumping into him at the grocery store too, the ~2000 year ago equivalent which was the sea and their nets.
“Walking along the beach of Lake Galilee, Jesus saw two brothers: Simon (later called Peter) and Andrew. They were fishing, throwing their nets into the lake. It was their regular work. Jesus said to them, “Come with me. I’ll make a new kind of fisherman out of you. I’ll show you how to catch men and women instead of perch and bass.” They didn’t ask questions, but simply dropped their nets and followed.” Matthew 4:18-20
And their meeting Jesus could change them. Could open them. Could lead to their receiving Spirit. Brothers who drop their nets and follow.
When asked questions by someone in authority with power, I’ve long answered questions literally. The inadvertent and perhaps intentional training we receive when the wrong answer can enrage someone in our family, a teacher or a boss. I’d like to not answer questions so literally. To pause before answering. To ponder, why is this question being asked.
John knew why he was being asked, ‘who are you?’. That’s why he didn’t answer and instead stated who he was not.