Imposter Syndrome
Preacher: Revd Dr Donald MacEwan, University Chaplain
Readings: Exodus 3:7-12; 4:10-17; 2 Corinthians 5:11-21
As this Martinmas Semester begins, I can guarantee that someone here, perhaps many people here, are experiencing imposter syndrome. You may be feeling you don’t truly belong in this 600 year old University, with its ancient building set in such a lovely setting, which rides so high in the league tables. You may be thinking that your own intellect doesn’t really qualify you for the difficulty of your reading, experiments, writing and coding. You may suspect that your school-leaving grades were an act of charity to you, or that St Andrews only let you in as some kind of token.
And imposter syndrome affects more than work and study. In your time in the University, whether a week, a year or longer, you may have concluded that others are much more confident, adept at the complexities of conversation over cheese and wine; more skilful at navigating interactions at Freshers Fayres, funnier over breakfast in Uni Hall, look better in their jeans and their pre-loved Icelandic sweater; travelled further to Kerala, Cambodia or the Cook Islands; and are more experienced in matters of love. You may think that, compared to all these others sailing through their University life, you are about to capsize. For those students and staff returning for another year, perhaps this is the year your lecturers, your supervisor and your Head of School will finally reveal they’ve worked it out and seen through your pretence. Your grades are going to tank. You’re just not up to life in St Andrews.
Now you may be thinking – why begin a sermon in this way? Wouldn’t this be have been better said at the Opening Ceremonies, or your first classes? And it’s true it’s not an expression that comes from faith – Imposter Syndrome as a term was only coined in 1978 in the field of Psychology, and has been a helpful way since then that women and people from minorities in particular have realised they have lacked confidence in a wide variety of settings, not least education and the workplace. It’s a term that almost everyone uses in a University but my own understanding was helped by a brilliant paper co-written by Katherine Hawley, a Philosopher who taught here until her untimely death five years ago.
Just last week I was at a conference celebrating the life and work of the theologian David Fergusson at which the very first speaker, a woman who was taught by him as an undergraduate and PhD student, said, “he pushed through all my imposter syndrome.”
So this idea has been crystallized long after the Bible was written and the main lines of Christian reflection had been laid out. But I would argue that the phrase describes something with a much longer heritage in human experience. And I think we see it in the Bible.
In our first reading from Exodus in the Old Testament, we heard our Principal recount a central biblical story. God has seen the suffering of the people of Israel, oppressed by their owners in the land of Egypt. He promises deliverance and invites Moses to represent his people, to be their advocate in negotiations with Pharaoh, the King of the Egyptians, to let his people go.
(In passing, we notice that in this Biblical narrative God holds out a promised land to the Israelites where a number of nations already live from Canaanites to Jebusites. We should be careful to realise that this is not a description of modern middle-eastern politics nor a justification for contemporary conflict over land. The principle is clear, however, that God longs to deliver people from oppression, and that, once delivered, they have a responsibility not to enslave or oppress others.)
To return to our story, it is here that we glimpse something very like imposter syndrome. 3:11 Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?” God, creator of the Universe, in covenant with his people, had revealed himself in the burning bush to Moses, told him his own divine name, and then asked him to do this. Surely God believes in Moses – yet Moses doesn’t believe in himself. Who am I? Later Moses finds specific reasons he is unqualified for the role – 4:10 he has never been eloquent, indeed he is slow of speech – so how could he negotiate with Pharaoh? Moses doubts his abilities, and doubts the wisdom of God in inviting him to participate in his mission. Moreover, Moses is sure that others are more eloquent – they truly deserve the role. “Please send someone else.”
God, it seems, takes Moses up on this suggestion and appoints someone else – Moses’ own brother Aaron. But he still affirms Moses in his responsibility. Moses is still to listen to God and share his words with Aaron who will then convey them to the people. Moses is to be “as God” to Aaron – quite a task. And he is to be given a prop, a staff with which to perform signs. I wonder if we still need props to give us confidence – a conductor’s baton, a teacher’s lectern, pretty much everyone and their phone. And God promises he will be with Moses.
Does Moses have imposter syndrome? I think so, and over and over I have encountered students and colleagues who express themselves in strikingly similar ways. My presentation showed how useless I am. I don’t know why they gave me a job here. Maybe chaplains too, on a daily basis, wonder if what we say is helpful or disastrous, and when others will notice how little we truly understand.
It’s not impossible that Moses was indeed poor at speaking. We all have greater abilities in certain areas, and are weaker in others. And we can indeed get things wrong and mess things up. To believe otherwise would be the flip-side of imposter syndrome, something we might call can-do-no-wrong syndrome. Perhaps, if I thought I could teach Biochemistry, serve the perfect Pablo in the Red Gown or play in the ultimate frisbee first team simply because I’d been chaplain for 15 years I’d be showing signs of that can-do-no-wrong syndrome. It’s just as unhealthy as imposter syndrome in fact, particularly for the other people affected by such over-confidence, and the Bible has plenty to say about such arrogance. Psalm 139 which the choir sang explores how God knows us fully in our complexity, how we think, what we say, our physicality, our emotional life. We are fearfully and wonderfully made – but we do not live perfect lives: the closing words of the psalm asks God to look out for sin within me and lead me in the right paths. Earlier we heard the choir sing an anthem by Bruckner which speaks of a place beyond reproach. That may be possible – but a person cannot be beyond reproach.
So – are we plunged back into imposter syndrome then? Do none of us deserve God’s love given the mess we can make of the life he has given us?
Here the New Testament reading offers us a way forward. The Apostle Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians asks who a human being is, and in particular how we see people. If we only see them in their humanity, he suggests, we tend to focus on their – and our – mistakes. As teeming flaw colonies, as the novelist John Updike puts it.
But, Paul continues, from now on we regard no one from a human point of view. Rather we regard everyone in Christ. What does that mean? It means we see everyone as the people Jesus came to the world for, that he put himself at huge risk for, that he let cruel power overwhelm him for, that he died on the cross for, and that, on the third day, he was raised to life for. In other words, human beings were worth the ultimate commitment of his life. And in that, we fellow human beings become new creations, the old has passed away. Paul encourages us to see others, and ourselves, as beloved and redeemed.
Imposter syndrome can be seen as a holding on to our failures, mistakes and incapacities, a magnifying of them, often encouraged by individuals, societies and prejudices which fan the flames of our self-doubt. (Katherine Hawley is very good on that.) But in truth, while all make mistakes, we are all loved, forgiven, accepted and welcomed by God. And God invites us to take up a role wherever we find ourselves. For Moses it was leading his people out of slavery. For the followers of Jesus, it is to be his ambassadors in making reconciliation real. For us in St Andrews, alongside study and work, it could be listening to a flatmate breaking their heart, volunteering with the local foodbank Storehouse, being a friendly face as an usher here in chapel. It will be challenging, some will doubt us, and we’re not always provided with a sibling to do the most frightening bits for us, but we will have God accompanying us.
So, this Martinmas Semester, if you are holed up in the Library with a deadline looming, masses of notes and a stubbornly blank screen; or agonising over what to wear for a dinner with your academic family that won’t make you feel horrible about your body; or sure that everyone will think the contribution you make at Thinking Allowed or the Ministry Discernment Group or a Grief Group is unbelievably stupid; or generally feel inadequate, unprepared and undeserving and that everyone else can see through your flimsy mask of competence – know that you are in good company with Moses who didn’t think he was up to facing the cruelty of Pharaoh and leading his people out of slavery through the Red Sea – but he was up to it, and he did do it. And in good company with half your fellow-students and a fair proportion of your lecturers, who feel that their exam results or professional accolades are unwarranted, and so doubt they belong here just as much as you – but they do belong here. We all do. We are worthy of the space we fill, the air we breathe and the community to which we belong. And so we can take huge comfort in the promise that God knows us and loves us, and we are all fearfully and wonderfully made, and that Christ gave his life for all human beings. We needn’t be eloquent or get a first or stay longer at the office than everyone else to deserve this gift. It comes to us all simply by being who we are.
END