Singing, Struggling, Journeying

When I created this blog, I did not anticipate that it would become a space in which I would not only document my journey but also work through issues of faith, identity and other ways of life, to put it as broadly and vaguely as possible. But that is exactly what it has become -- a place where I can share my struggles and to some extent be in dialogue with others -- and apparently some have enjoyed and appreciated my willingness to be open and genuine in my blog. Of course, those of you who know me also know that I tend to be open and genuine in real life, although there is not always time and space for these sorts of conversations.

And let's face it, there have been lots of things I have been struggling with since moving to Berkeley and starting a PhD program, the least of which seem to be the academic issues, although the "personal" struggles have in many ways influenced my academic interests and understandings. In a different setting, perhaps my questions about Christian spirituality, and its adoption and adaption of Hebrew Scriptures, would not have become an issue for me, or at least not a more central issue. So I have been wrestling with questions of queer culture; questions of what it means to be Christian, inclusive, accepting and human (not necessarily in that order or even necessarily as separate categories!); questions of if I am academically rigorous enough for scholarship; questions of gifts and talents and how they correspond to worship and community involvement; questions of my own priorities and desires in life...questions about anything and everything.

My past few posts have dealt with some of the more pressing and perhaps "serious" of these issues, namely, my evolving views and understandings of queer culture and my struggle balancing faith and academia. Something else that I have been dealing with a lot lately, which perhaps is more superficial but still important to me, is singing, specifically as I have started singing in a choir again for the first time in over a dozen years. I know it seems rather trivial, but the underlying question is not dealing with singing per se but with using our gifts (and, in relation, limiting ourselves to our gifts) in worship and other settings. In other words, is church a safe place to explore and develop our gifts and passions? Should we limit our involvement to our gifts, and therefore contain our passions if they are not also our gifts? Thus, this to me is not a simple issue of do I find singing in the Taize choir enjoyable but is rather addressing the wider question of what it means to be church and how the church  functions (or should function) in our lives and communities.

The reason this is an issue for me at all, especially in this context, is because I do not necessarily have a great singing voice. As I say, the last time I sang in a choir was when I did not make my high school Chamber Singers. I then proceeded to be an accompanist for Chamber Singers throughout high school, where I was reminded every day, both implicitly and explicitly, that I didn't belong because I did not make it as a singer. (Of course, it did not help that, while I was a good piano player, I was not a very good accompanist.) But despite my limited singing abilities, I love to sing, especially in worship. For me, worship is about singing, and that is where I experience God--and how I am sustained spirituality for my studies.

And so, after much thought and many discussions, I joined the Taize choir. It's been five weeks now, and I am enjoying it, for the most part. But I am also discovering that I have a lot of issues to work through. I lack self-confidence. I never realized how deeply it was ingrained in me that I cannot sing and do not belong in choir. Most people have been encouraging--encouraging me to join in the first place, regardless of how well I can sing; encouraging me to continue to sing, offering me kind words and support; encouraging me to believe in myself. And there has been much patience and grace as I deal with my issues and insecurities, as ridiculous as they may be.

Most people have been encouraging, but not everyone. I am still reminded that my singing voice is not stellar. Some talk about how we all have our gifts and we should use our gifts...and if we don't have a particular gift, we shouldn't try to use it. Although I don't remember the gift of singing being on the list. God did, however, request a joyful noise. And I do remember reading where Jesus put the Pharisees in their place by reminding them that it is the sick that need a doctor, not the healthy. People don't go to church because they are perfect. People go to church because they are broken. Church is supposed to be a place where we can be put back together again. We're all broken in different ways, and our jagged edges may not always be visible to others. Our paths to wholeness will all differ, but they also intersect. None of us can fit the pieces of our lives back together on our own. That's why we have church, to help and encourage and journey together.

Hardcore Fluff

Just finished week 3 of spring semester. Beginning to establish a routine. Life is good. Life is also confusing, but I think that is part of what makes it good.

My task this semester is to figure out my life, by which, of course, I mean that I need to figure out how I want to frame my research, which is in part to say, I need to figure out my complementary concentration. Theoretically, that should be simple. I came into the program planning on doing Second Temple Judaism and/or Early Rabbinics as my complementary concentration. I still have a general interest in these fields, but my questions have shifted...or rather, the questions that I have attempted to squash over the past several years have found their way to the surface and refuse to be ignored.

Earlier in the week, my friend "interviewed" me for an assignment in his theater as pedagogy class. One of the questions was to describe a moment when I had experienced doubt in my faith. I spoke about what I call "my crisis of faith," which was not a "real" crisis of faith but rather a crisis of call, when I found myself torn between what I had believed to be my call--to be a pastor--and where my interests were then taking me--academia.  In the midst of this conversation, I acknowledged that the real struggle of faith occurred earlier, in my first semester of college, when I first encountered an academic study of the Bible, which shattered everything I had ever believed about the Bible. I obviously came out the other side with my faith intact, but I honestly don't know how I navigated that struggle. As I told my friend, it is almost as if I "blacked out" the whole thing, as if it was too traumatic.

I mention this conversation because I think it illustrates how I have traditionally dealt with the schism between faith and academia in my life...I attempt to separate the two, focusing on biblical scholarship without bringing my faith into it, except perhaps on the peripheral. And I think that is, at least traditionally, what is expected in biblical studies. We are “hardcore”; we learn all these languages so we can analyze the text, but for the most part, we ignore the “practical” applications. Faith never enters the equation. In fact, we don't even admit to having faith most of the time, as if faith is some sort of weakness, something shameful.

And ignoring my faith, separating it out from my academic work, has in many ways allowed me to preserve my faith. It doesn’t matter if I essentially disprove the historical validity of the entire Bible as long as I keep it separate from my faith life. I can still go to church, go to Taize, pray. Because while the Bible may not be “true,” it doesn’t matter, that only applies to my academic life.

But let’s face it, compartmentalizing like that is time-consuming, exhausting and not entirely successful. I haven’t been able to actually listen to a sermon, and take it seriously, in years.  I get too frustrated by the general lack of academic engagement pastors exhibit in their sermons. And it’s not just my inability to keep the academic completely out of the sanctuary. I still feel like the wind is knocked out of me whenever I encounter a new academic theory that further compromises the facticity of the biblical stories of my youth. Sometimes I wonder what my threshold is, how much of the Bible can be “untrue” before I end up like Bart Ehrman, bitter and rejecting my religious faith?

In other words, I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep my two selves, the academic and the believer, distinct. And I find myself wondering more and more why these two selves can’t be one integrated whole. Why can’t my faith influence my scholarship? Why can’t my scholarship influence my faith?

                                         

Thus, as a result, I have a confession to make: I have went "fluffy."

While it is not yet official, I am leaning strongly toward Christian Spirituality as my complementary concentration. My initial impression of my first class, which I call Old Testament Spirituality but is official title is Biblical Issues in Christian Spirituality, was that spirituality is all about experiences and feelings (said in complete disdain). And I am still trying to figure out how to “think spiritually,” as I say, that is, how spirituality frames its questions. But I think, when done properly, Christian Spirituality allows one to read and analyze the biblical text and then figure out how to apply that to one’s faith life.

In other words, I can be both a Christian and a biblical scholar, and the two do not have to live in opposition or be sequestered from one another. I can ask what the text meant and what it now means. Instead of just complaining about the terrible ways Christians read and use the Hebrew Bible, I can actually do something about it. I can be both “hardcore” and “fluffy.”

Trans/cending Belief

My closest friends are trans-men and lesbians, along with a few "normal" straight people and a gay guy or two. I write that partially out of disbelief, partially out of pride. One of the most difficult things since moving to Berkeley has been attempting to navigate queer culture. I am from the Midwest, after all, where there are males and females and most people are straight, though some are not. It was all so much simpler back home. You are, more or less, what you look like--if you look like a man, you are a man; if you look like a woman, you are a woman. Here, though, looks are often deceiving. The binaries which are so ingrained in me that I don't even think about them--male/female, straight/gay--are essentially meaningless. Instead, I am learning, and often stumbling over, a whole new vocabulary--straight, queer, gay, lesbian, trans, intersex, cis, they (as a single pronoun) and so on and so forth. It has been, in many ways, more overwhelming than being a PhD student. 

And I have been struggling with it. A LOT.

I joke about being from the Midwest, but it really does explain so much about me. I mean, I grew up in an area where no one was gay, or at least no one was willing to admit to being gay because we all knew that homosexuality was one of those deadly sins that sends you straight to hell. The first gay person I ever (knowingly) met was my freshman roommate in undergrad, and that was a bizarre experience--she told me the first night she was gay and that thirty second conversation was the longest conversation we ever had. It was not until I got to seminary that I encountered and became friends with gay students. It was at that point that I had to rethink my understanding of homosexuality and its relationship to sin. It also helped that I was taking Greek, where we specifically learned about the Greek behind the passages that are (mis)used against homosexuality. But here these people were, my friends, who are just like me, good and God-loving people. How could I determine that they were hell-bound? And so my theology changed.

Of course, being gay or a lesbian is different than being queer and it is most definitely different than being trans. I had no conception of what it meant for someone to be "queer," and, well, weren't transgender people essentially saying that God got it wrong? I mean, doesn't God know if you are meant to be a boy or a girl? But then I moved to Berkeley and actually met people who are trans, and lo and behold, they too are just like me, good and God-loving. Once again, I am left asking myself how they could be excluded from God's family. Once again, my theology is changing.

These past couple of weeks, since I took the Greek exam, I have spent a lot of time pondering questions of what it means to be trans or queer or gay or lesbian or even straight. And I have been talking to my friends about it, especially my trans friends. I want to know how to talk about these things without making ignorant and unintentionally hurtful remarks. Because I am still figuring it out. And I have a feeling I will continue to be figuring it out until I get a chance to ask God face-to-face. Does God get it wrong sometimes? Or have we gotten it all wrong with our strict binary system? Did God make them, male and female, or did God make them ha'adam, gender-less and gender-full? Have we complicated things by trying to reduce everything to two simple options--male/female, straight/gay, right/wrong?

I tell my mom stories about my friends and my experiences, and she says, "What is the world coming to?" I say, "You can't judge something you don't know." 

Talking to a friend today about gender identities and all the variations, I finally asked, partially out of frustration, partially out of a deep longing, "Can't we all just be people?" Trans, female, straight, male, gay, queer, intersex, lesbian, cis--whatever "label" one is--aren't we all still people? Are any of us any less made in the image of God because our sexual or gender identity doesn't align with what someone else thinks it should? God breathed life into ha'adam, that mysterious creature whose gender is indeterminate, and so regardless of who you are, regardless of how you identify, I am discovering that the breath of God in me longs to meet and know the breath of God in you. 

Still a Christian, Still an Academic

I grew up in a pretty conservative area, in a really conservative church. I tend to use phrases like "essentially fundamentalist" to describe the church I grew up in and, in fact, am still a member. And, as a teenager, I was hardcore into all of it. It's all I knew, and (so I thought) I knew it to be true.

Then I went to a liberal arts university to study the Bible academically. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that meant reading the Bible as if it were literature rather that historical fact or through the lens of faith! I struggled a lot, especially that first semester, but I grew and I came to realize that my faith transcends the words on the page. Truth is not always dependent on historical fact. When I was able to let go of my need for the Bible to be the literal Word of God and literally true, I came to realize that my faith really isn't dependent on much of it being historically factual at all. In fact, sometimes my faith is better off if it is in fact not historically factual! Like that whole God as an abusive husband thing...I mean, seriously, if God really told the prophets that God was gonna beat wife-Israel/Judah and leave her for the other nations to rape, what kind of God am I serving?!?!

This is the journey I have been on for the past eight and a half years, navigating between truth and fact, faith and reality.  If you would have told me ten years ago I would be where I am today, I would have laughed at you. But here I am.

I mention all of this because my brother came home last weekend and for some reason decided to ask me all sorts of questions about the Bible. He's part of this men's group, and he decided to do the One Year Bible thing. And I tried to be good and give him an academic answer that still allowed for faith, although it was pretty clear on which side I came down, but I was trying to let him know that it was okay for him to choose faith over my academics (which I really do believe--just because I love the academic side doesn't mean everyone has to or even that they have to agree with it). But by the end of the conversation, my brother asked me, "Do you even consider yourself a Christian??"

I said yes, of course, but his question kinda threw me off guard. I know in seminary we always joked about how I was more Jewish than Christian and some people really thought I was going to return from Israel a Jew (and, in fact, I went to synagogue nearly every week but only went to church on Christmas and Easter). But at the end of the day, I have always been and still am a Christian. I mean, last semester, it was church on Sunday morning and Taize Wednesday evenings that kept me sane. I may not be orthodox. I believe that the Bible contains stories rather than history. I believe that some of those stories might not necessarily be applicable to us today, no matter how hard we try to make them be. But I believe that those stories are powerful, and they are powerful because they contain some sort of inherent truth (even if that inherent truth may not transcend time and space). I believe in God and in doing the right thing, in love and truth. I believe that being a Christian means something, that being a Christian makes me a different (and better) person than I would otherwise be. And I believe I can believe all these things and still be an academic, that in fact my beliefs in many ways allows me to be a better academic because I understand what is at stake.

I am, at the end of the day, both a Christian and an academic. Whether I am a Christian academic or an academic Christian, the fact remains that I am both.

Just Another New Day

The whole New Year's Day thing has always been lost on me. Is there really anything magical about the start of a new year? Is it really anything more than one day ending and another one beginning? And what's the point of making resolutions that you never really intend to keep anyway? Maybe it's because I am a perpetual student and therefore my year corresponds with the academic year, beginning in late August/early September and ending in May. (Don't ask me what happens to poor June and July!) The excitement (and fear!) for me is with the start of a new school year, or a new semester, not when the calendar returns to Jan 1. For me, today is just another new day.

I spent last night (and all day) studying Greek, just like every other day of the break, just like I spent today, just like I will spend the next two weeks until the exam is over. Studying Greek until I can't distinguish it from English. And then some more. Passing the exam means I don't have to take the class. And not having to take the class means I can dedicate the necessary time and energy to my classes, well, at least in theory. Maybe I will even have time to do something other than study? Not likely.

At least I get to spend some time at home, in the midst of all this Greek. Of course, "home" is a relative word. My parents are doing crazy renovations, and of course, everything is going crazy wrong, which means I have no access to any of my stuff (other than what I brought home with me) and I'm sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Half the time plastic is hanging everywhere, including the doorways, turning the house into a maze and making me feel like we're in quarantine or something. And no TV to alleviate the Greek. And contractors coming and going and making all sorts of noise. So I go to the library, to the coffee shop, sometimes even the bookstore or mall food court, wherever I can get some work done.

No one ever said the life of a PhD student was very glamorous. In fact, I'm pretty sure cruel and unusual self-induced punishment would probably be more accurate. We could all use a good dose of therapy, and perhaps some strong drugs. In the meantime, I am running on stress and caffeine. And chocolate, always chocolate!

Checklists & Health Fits

I am exceptionally good at checklists. I think I take them as a personal challenge. Case in point: In my first semester of my PhD program I...

- passed the Hebrew exam
- passed the French exam
- got Aramaic waived
- had my first TA job (well, first as a PhD student)
- submitted the necessary papers for research readiness review

In other words, on the outside at least, I look like I have my act together. Sure there have been failures and setbacks, but overall, I have made great progress on the protocols checklist. But I can check things off a checklist all day. The actual feeling like I know what is going on, like I am half as smart as the other students, like I actually belong in a PhD program--that's a whole other story.  Things are improving. I am actually pretty proud of my final papers. They aren't exactly earth-shattering, but I think I was able to find a new angle for each topic. Hopefully my professors will agree.

And just like that, I am a quarter of the way through coursework (God willing!) The semester was tough. Far tougher than anything I have ever done. Far tougher than moving to Jerusalem for nine months. But I survived. I may not be thriving yet, but I am surviving. And I am learning a lot about myself along the way. I am learning it is okay to do things my own way, at my own pace. For the first time in my life, I had to document my health problems with my school, and that was hard. I am officially "differently abled." It's not really an issue of needing help--I realized long ago that asking for help is part of my life. But it is different when I am asking a friend to walk me home because I am lightheaded than having official notification sent to my professors to let them know that my health impacts my classroom performance. It never used to, not really. I don't know if it is the change in environment, the added stress, or just adjusting, but my health went from being an occasional nuisance to being an almost daily issue. And I have had to make changes in my lifestyle as a result. I have never viewed my health as a weakness--it is what it is, it is part of my life--but I also have never let it affect how I live my life. I have never had to plan things according to what my body could handle, not really. And suddenly, I am realizing that it has to be a factor. Not that I am going to let it ruin my dreams, but it may mean a different time frame. And that's okay.

I went on a date a while back (that's as weird for me to say as it probably is for those of you who know me to read). The guy kept asking me what I like to do with my free time. For the life of me, I couldn't get him to understand that as a PhD student, I don't have any free time. Finally I told him I like to read. He asked me what I like to read, for fun. He was a bit shocked when I told him biblical studies books, much like what I read for class. I looked at him and said, "You gotta understand, this is what I am passionate about. This is what I do for fun. You don't end up in a PhD program by having hobbies." Needless to say, there was no second date. But it's the truth. As hard as it is, as time-consuming and stressful as it is, I wouldn't have it any other way. I am doing this because this is what I love.

Today, I Like Lists

At this point in the semester, my ability to form coherent narratives is reserved for papers. Thus, I present to you a random list of random thoughts about life in and lessons from a PhD program on the West Coast.

- Taize on Wednesday evenings is the highlight of my week. (I was greatly disappointed this morning when I realized that today was Tuesday and not Wednesday...)
- Professors should not be allowed to assign homework after Thanksgiving if they expect us to also write 20 page papers.
- People who ask for my advice, ignore it and then proceed to whine to me because I was right annoy me.
- Pumpkin cheesecake is amazing.
- For the first time in my life, I had to document my health problems with my school. I am now a "differently abled student" and I am okay with that.
- Sleep has been relegated to an activity that I get to do in my free time. If only I had free time...
- Constant self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy are central to the process.
- MDivs who whine about having to write 10 page papers annoy me.
- Sometimes the best way to be a good friend is to not be a good friend.
- My health has to come first.
- I really like smoothies. And my Keurig.
- Sometimes I really am a horrible person. But it's okay because most of the time I am busying mothering the first year MDivs, so they forgive me.
- The best way to deal with never-ending to-do lists is to first not actually make the list and second to focus on getting through one thing at a time.
- It's okay if I only take 3 classes a semester.
- Having health problems is not a weakness. Neither is asking for help.
- I have some amazingly supportive classmates and friends.

And now, back to the never-ending world of paper-writing...