Who am I?

Recently I delivered dialogue and mediation training to a group of 24 young women from Belgrade and Pristina who had never met before. One of the semi-fun exercises used as an icebreaker is based on social identities – the social ‘categories’ to which we all belong, by birth, tradition, choice or habit. I invited the participants to choose four social identities to which they feel most strongly attached, write them on sticky labels and go and start a conversation with the people whose identities are most different to their own.

The idea was to go beneath the surface, to help these young women who come from places of deep division to connect on deeper level. On completion of the training, they have now joined a vibrant network of over 200 alumnae of the Dialogue Academy, a peacebuilding programme run by the OSCE (Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe) missions to Serbia and in Kosovo.

Social identities are formed at a young age and are reinforced by family traditions and community narratives, ceremonies and rituals. The stories we tell each other and the rituals we follow within our own ‘in-group’ not only set the norms about how we will behave among ourselves, but also give us cues about what behaviours to expect from members of ‘out-groups’. In these polarized times, it is not difficult to find examples of ‘us and them’ behaviour in every walk of life.

But how does this behaviour serve us? Altruism, or the willingness to make a personal sacrifice in the interests of the group, is a characteristic of many complex animal societies, from ants to chimpanzees; but one part of our human evolutionary advantage is that we are willing to make personal sacrifices, not just to provide food or shelter to our ‘in-group’, but also to maintain long term social bonds. These bonds enable us to go beyond mere survival tactics to collaborate, innovate, and to be creative – to evolve.  It is in our collective interest to ensure that our group is safe, warm and fed, but also to be nourished by mutually supportive emotional relationships.  We are willing to sacrifice some of our personal preferences and comforts for the wellbeing of the group.

But who is in our group? In a church context we draw on the sense of wellbeing and mutuality that we call fellowship – when we come together to pray, or to participate in a service, or even to break bread together, we are participating in a shared experience that nurtures us emotionally as well as spiritually. When we bake for a church fundraiser, visit a church member in hospital, or comfort a church family member who is bereaved, we are adhering to our group norms and in the process, reinforcing those social bonds. The trouble with the concept of social identities is that our in-group identity is partly defined by what it is not – what we do not believe, what we do not agree with, what we cannot support. In a church context, this may mean that we draw on our tradition or theology in a way that is exclusive rather than inclusive, reductive rather than expansive.

We carry multiple identities, and the relative salience of different social identities can change over time, or in different contexts.  I am from Galway and married an Englishman. When we travel abroad as a family and people ask us ‘Where are you from?’…we take a collective breath. My children desperately hope I will not do it, but I always say… ‘I am from Ireland’ and wait for them to say…’we are from London.’ It is the only time I feel the need to claim that identity – in every other context I count myself a Londoner. I have spent half of my life as a Catholic, and half as a member of an Anglican church. Although I have been a committed member of my church family and its theology for over 25 years, my cultural identity as an Irish Catholic means I still cannot bring myself to use the ‘Protestant’ label. I had an epiphany a few years ago walking on the beach near my parents’ home in Galway, where I have often experienced the emigrant’s mixed feelings of homesickness and confusion about who I am and where is Home with a capital ‘H’. I had a powerful realisation that I could claim an overarching identity as a child of God, so the place I call my earthly home is irrelevant. As the Hillsong lyrics say… In my father’s house, there is a place for me. I am who He says I am.*

In claiming that identity as a child of God, I am effectively claiming a social identity beyond my immediate church family or in-group, freeing me up to consider how I can play my part in fulfilling Jesus’ prayer in John 17:20-23;

My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one – I in them and you in me – so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

The challenge and the invitation to us all who call ourselves Christians, whatever our theology of reconciliation, is to consider how, in this time of division and polarization, we can impact in such a way that the world will know that God sent Jesus to  show us how much he loves us all as his children.

*Hillsong Worship – Who You Say I Am Official Lyrics | Lyrics https://hillsong.com/lyrics/who-you-say-i-am/

Sharon Crooks lives in London and works as a mediator, conflict coach and trainer. She is a trustee of WMS, a community mediation service, and is passionate about helping people to communicate better to create peace in all its fullness.