“Who do you think you are?”
I have a feeling that every human has, at one time or another — perhaps several times this week — looked in the mirror aghast and said, “Who do you think you are?” It often springs to mind when one begins to take seriously a big dream an audacious ambition; you figure that’s a thought that’s out of your league, meant to be handled at a higher pay grade.
Sometimes, sadly, the question is voiced by someone else — “Who do you think you are?” as in, you’re not good enough or deserving enough.
Who do I think I am, to call myself to your attention every morning with my ideas and my musings and my songs, as if I were some special voice in the wilderness, as if what I have to say is so profound that I can’t just post it on Facebook, I have to set up a website and make my name a domain like I’m a Big-Hairy-Deal-dot-com?
Who does that? What kind of arrogant doofus goes to all that trouble? Who do I think I am?
I am nobody special — or, to put it in words attributed to Margaret Mead — “Always remember that you are absolutely unique, just like everyone else.” The first half of that quote is very uplifting; the second half brings us down to earth.
But maybe it shouldn’t, because that means everyone else we meet, all day and every day, is absolutely unique, someone the likes of whom has never been seen before and will never again exist in this world when they are gone. That is humbling and exciting — each of these humans is a one-of-a-kind example of humanity in all its infinite variety, and they gave ME the time of day.
It’s also humbling and exciting because it says that I am equally and absolutely unique — “just like” everyone else, not better than, not less than, but just like everyone else. None of the absolutely unique humans I meet are better than me. And none of the absolutely unique humans I meet are less than me.
Of course, I know people who can bake macarons or through footballs, or build roads or paint portraits better than I can ever hope to achieve, and maybe I have a unique set of skills that I can pull off better than others — but the plain fact is that each of us is an absolutely unique individual worthy of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
And each of us is also unworthy in our own unique ways. Whatever glory we have experienced falls short, and in our heart of hearts we know it. A writer so good that his words have been preserved for almost two millennia once wrote, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners — of whom I am the worst.” He looked inside himself, asked “Who do I think I am?” and concluded that he was probably the worst sinner in the world, and he was grateful that Christ would save even him.
That’s the ultimate answer to “Who do I think I am?” I am a horrible sinner who doesn’t deserve any of the blessings this life has brought me. That realization keeps me humble and compels to live by the example that ancient writer followed — to love God and to love my neighbors, knowing that the word neighbors is defined so as to include those I might consider to be my enemies, if it weren’t for the fact that they are absolutely unique, just like everyone else, and therefore worthy of love.
Who do you think you are?
