Metamorphosis Shown

I tuned in to Re:Sound on NPR while driving home from downtown this afternoon. It was Re:Sound #139 The Matamorphosis Show, recounting two stories of two people navigating an alteration of identity. I listened to half in the car, then streamed it online from my kitchen to listen to the rest. I cried big, honest, insistent tears at one point. I try to listen to my tears when they come. Tears seldom lie.

The first story is called Breaking Away. It’s about Luzer Twersky who was raised as a Hasidic Jew and decided, at the age of 23, to leave everything he was familiar with and engage secular society.

The second story is called Finding Miles. It’s about a man named Miles and recounts his transition from female to male, from identifying as Megan to identifying as Miles.

Each story starkly typifies the human experience of change, identity, and agency. Each narrative emphasizes the role of family, especially parents, in the person’s metamorphosis. Luzer experienced a sort of excommunication from his family, a shunning from his parents, when he confessed to no longer being a practicing Hasid. Miles used a long letter to come out to his parents as transsexual, and the way that they responded… that’s what brought me to tears. I hope you’ll listen to the stories if you get a chance. They demystify experiences that are not familiar to a lot of people, yet their experiences were incredibly resonant.

Earlier this month I came out to several of my close family members. My confession was more akin to Luzer’s, and the response I received was more akin to the one Miles received. But there were pieces of all of each of their narratives. I told my people that I am not an Evangelical Christian, which for some in my family is equal to saying, without the qualifier, “I am not a Christian.” I didn’t qualify my confession in order to try and squeeze into some alternate mold of Christianity. It’s just that as far as I’m concerned there is, and regardless of my lifestyle or beliefs always will be, something of my identity that is informed by Christianity.

But I am not a Christian. Not in any orthodox sense. I don’t confess Christian creeds. I don’t practice Christian habits. I don’t go to church. I don’t assert salvation through Christ alone, or posit that truth is found in the Bible alone.

I need to be careful, because I have dear friends who would align with many of my liberal views and my openness toward lifestyles that deviate from the Judeo-Christian moral norms, and these friends still identify as Christians. I’m so grateful for them. Grateful for my encounter with brands of Christianity that have room for me. I’ve discovered this roomy Christianity through voices such as Fredrick Beuchner, Marcus Borg, John Hick, and Catherine Keller; and I’ve discovered it first hand in community at CTS. But to be honest with my tribe, the ones who hold fast to the Christianity that I inherited but have since departed from, I have felt compelled to provide clarity, rather than incite confusion, by letting my confession be candid according to their terms. At least for now, at this stage, I have found severance to prove functional in communicating who I am and who I’m not. It’s emotional, for me and them. Parts of it feel like estrangement, other parts feel like unconditional love. But I feel more than anything the levity of honesty and the profundity of telling the truth.