What do you do?

“What do you do?” is a question I hear a lot these days. Moving to a new place sort of asks for it. Generally, I respond by describing my day job. If I feel defiant, then I tell them I like to read, or farm. “What do you do?” is pretty much an identity question. Most people identify by their work, their scholarship, their money, their connections, or the number of babies they have. And most of these appear to be autonomous decisions. But it doesn’t take too many years after college to realize that what we do is tremendously influenced by the people around us. Our identity is more of a collaboration of biological, social, and religious factors.

Recently I read an essay by Wendell Berry in which he wrote that our neighborhood, friendships, and families define us. Within these personal relationships who we are is complete. It’s not just the office persona but the whole person, day in and day out. These relationships give a genuine picture of a person in a concrete situation, filled with need and necessity. And here, our identity is formed. And this gives a small, human meaning to who we are. Our identity is understood by its use and worth to the people closest to us; the people who love and depend upon us; to whom we are indispensable. Marriage is the quintessential example of this concrete and necessary identity. In this context, we are individuals who make and keep promises, care devotedly and faithfully for one another. A marriage occurs in a specific place, filled with human circumstances, and characterized by its duration. In this relationship, love gives a person an identity derived from a place, a community, and a history.