Identity Theft (2)

I am a stranger on the earth; do not hide Your commandments from me. Psalm 119:19 NASB

I am – The word ʾānōkî might remind you of previous investigations of the longer form of “I” in Hebrew.  We looked into this word when we noticed in it Genesis 28:15.  “Behold, I am with you,” said God to Jacob in the famous dream of Genesis 28.  There the text used ʾānōkî rather than the shorter form, ʾānî.  But since ʾānōkî and ʾānî are both translated “I,” we would have a hard time distinguishing the two.  Sometimes they are used interchangeably.  But sometimes they aren’t, and when they are not, something important is usually happening.  Mei Ha-Shilo’ach explains the difference.  ʾānōkî contain the added letter kaf “which, as a prefix, denotes approximation—‘like,’ ‘as if.’  God here reveals himself as only incompletely, provisionally knowable.  If Jacob is to develop a larger capacity for comprehending God, he will need to unfold the latent dimensions of his own ʾānōkî.”[1]

It’s worth recalling that verse before we look at the psalmist’s choice of ʾānōkî.

There are verses where Jacob refers to himself with the longer version, ʾānōkî .   It is significant that these occurrences are also about partial concealment (note particularly Genesis 27:19 in the deception of Isaac).  ʾānōkî becomes an important word in Jacob’s quest for himself.  And God responds to Jacob with the same self-concealment.  Jacob sees what he wants to see, until circumstances (divinely ordered?) interrupt his control and force him to look into the dark places where he has hidden himself from himself.

You and I are also on the quest of ʾānōkî .  We know ourselves only in part because we have disguised ourselves from whom we completely are.  Notice I did not say, “From whom we really are,” because we really are all of this concealment and revelation.  It is not as if our true selves reside somewhere else, in that perfect world where we stand fully in the light.  No, we are ʾānōkî, the hidden and the revealed, and it is along that continuum that we trace the steps toward complete human being.  There is a very good reason why the tears of sorrow are wiped away in heaven but the memoriesof our travels are not.   Today we manage the flow along this course of action.  One day we will look back and see how it brought us to completion.

We often decry the loss of vulnerability in this world.  We excoriate hypocrisy.  But the lesson of ʾānōkî is this: we are all on the path of concealment and disclosure.  Yes, we might recognize the log in the eye of another.  We might hate, as Jacob hated, the one who forces us to admit our deceptions.  But there are splinters everywhere, especially in those so well-practiced at ʾānōkî.  We can be encouraged.  God Himself uses ʾānōkî when addresses Jacob.  He matches where we are on the continuum of becoming human.  He is the God who is near, both physically and psychologically.  But, of course, He also prods.  It is divine engineering that brings Leah into Jacob’s bed, and in the process forces Jacob to deal with his trajectory of deception.  The God who reveals is also the God who conceals, and we are required to open our own hand to His presence (the Paleo-Hebrew meaning of kaf) if we are to move along this continuum.  ʾānōkî is the designation of already-not-yet.

The psalmist is not ignorant of this nuance.  gēr ʾānōkî isn’t just about the uncomfortable feeling that we don’t quite fit in this world.  It is also about feeling uncomfortable in our own skin.  There’s something alien in us too.  We are hidden—intrinsically hidden—ontologically hidden—even from ourselves.  When the psalmist writes, “Stranger I am” he says much more than his environmental and communal disconnectedness.  He’s psychologically disconnected too.

But that disconnection isn’t just a benign form of schizophrenia.  It’s a disruption in social awareness, something crucially important in the ancient world.  Did you notice that the plea is for uncovering what is hidden (do not hide Your commandments)?  Do you suppose that living the commandments is the cure for all this strangeness of being.  We shall see.

Topical Index:  gēr ʾānōkî, sojourner, stranger, alien, Psalm 119:19

[1] Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg, The Murmuring Deep, p. 289.