The past several years have been full of change- c’est la vie, no? After returning to the States from Mexico, my wife and I stayed in the San Francisco area before moving to Boston in order to embark on my journey as a seminarian. The 2010 year was marked by not only the start of this journey but also the initiation of many new relationships and new ways of relating to the world about us. All in all 2010 was a challenging yet great year.

This past Christmas season was the first one to be spent back home with family in a few years. It was challenging to re-enter the South again for such an extended period of time (4 weeks) after reconstructing an identity that is seemingly diametrically opposed to the one I had growing up. We knew we were getting closer to where my parents live when on Interstate 81 it seemed as though every other radio station was broadcasting a flavor of Protestant evangelicalism that had “God” micromanaging every detail in their lives, down to their own bouts with cancer and heart attacks.

It was different this time though. It was different to visit my parents’ church. It was no longer my role to rebel against my parents’ ways or belief system. I was now the son that was coming in to visit family during the holidays. Though I still cringed as I sat through several sermons during our stay (this also happened during our stint in Texas), I no longer felt the impetus to impart some form of greater knowledge of the workings of the world to my past fellow congregants. Had I grown tired, weary, apathetic? Or did I no longer possess the same knowledge that I was so sure to have possessed all those years ago? Was I amused at observing a community that possessed such a certitude and concrete understanding of the innards of the cosmos after I had spent so long swimming in a pool of methodological agnosticism? Just as my flame to evangelize “the lost” was once extinguished, had the flame to provide a corrective to the theological system that I was nurtured in also waned? These are a few of many questions that were prompted by a brief return to my roots, to the tradition that nurtured me. I suppose these things happen when one relinquishes a system of beliefs and chooses to subscribe to another one. This process is part of my “state of formation.”

Psychologist Mary Pipher, in her book Writing to Change the World, recommends an exercise for all writers in her chapter entitled, “Know Thyself.” In light of my recent travels, I think it apropos to undertake her challenge.

I am From

I am from Eric and Bridget, Joe and Kathy, and Grandma Bean.

From the foothills of the Appalachians, the gentle rolling hills that lie before the Great Smokey Mountains, Rocky Top, and the Grand Ole Opry, the Tennessee Valley and the Elk River,

from tornado lane, southern creeks, buttercups, blackberries, cotton and tobacco, hay bales, cows and more cows, copperhead snakes, snapping turtles, crawfish, coyotes, turkey, and white-tail deer, and of course big trucks, four-wheelers, and rebel flags.

I am from fried chicken and country ham eaters, chicken fried steak and country fried steak eaters (yes there is a difference)- if it’s fried it’s edible. I am from sweet tea and Sun Drop, suga’-butta’ biscuits and Wal-Mart.

I am from loggers, lumber yards, and sawmill men.

I am from, “If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all,” and “sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you,” “shake it off,” “hush up before I give you something to cry about,” and the classics, “bless his heart,” “Whatchdya go and do that for?” and “dog gon’it!”

I am from no-dancing-no-drinking-no-gambling-no-swearing-bible-believing-a capella-singing church of Christers, and from 65-minute Gospel meetings, and all-night singings. I am from the buckle of the Bible Belt, where no pastors were to be found, but where all male preachers were in abundance.

I am from General Jackson, Robert E. Lee, Mark Twain, William Faulkner, Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, Elvis, and Dolly Parton.

Where I am from men wear boots and women wear aprons.

Where I am from it is all still this way.

There’s something powerful about honoring my heritage- even liberating. In a state of perpetual formation, it is imperative to recognize where I have been. But at the same time, knowing that where I am now is significantly different because of choice is also empowering. Edmund Husserl, philosopher and founder of phenomenology, is known for putting into words the concept of “free variation of possibilities.”  When applied to religious experiences it espouses that each expression is just as valid as the next. Am I willing to come to terms with the notion that the flavor of Christianity that I grew up in, with a dualistic apocalyptic worldview, is just a valid expression as the flavor that I now associate with (my posts Relinquishing & Receiving, andAcceptance (or Coming Out of the Closet) chronicle these changes)? I find the irony unsettling that I am very much at ease in being in dialogue and even sharing religious experiences with persons that identify with other faith traditions than Christianity, yet I am still cringing when I am in close proximity to certain flavors of my own faith tradition. The seminary that I attend has very close connections with a rabbinical school. So does a certain large evangelical seminary. Sometimes it’s easier getting along with those that have extremely divergent faith traditions than getting along with those that are almost like us, but not the same as us. It’s the infighting that can be the most fierce. As I continue on my journey, I hope to see the continued dismantling of age old boundaries between mainline & evangelical expressions of Protestant Christianity. Am I any better for journeying towards God without God? Am I better than the evangelical preacher that I heard on the radio a few weeks ago, simply because I strive to attain a methodological agnosticism and speak of a “God beyond God” rather than inheriting that ole’ time religion? I still think there’s something beautiful in particular truth claims. Surely, it’s not just a “Southern thing,” we’re all engaged in using hermeneutical imagination.

Now I’m back in Boston and looking forward to the year ahead that will no doubt be filled with interfaith and even intrafaith interactions. I’m looking forward to reflecting on these experiences and writing to make a difference; playing my part in changing the world from where I am.