Life and Times of a Nonbinary Pastor

The title really says it.

[enbytheology]

“She’s always been afraid of storms. Growing up in the Midwest, there was no shortage of severe weather to torment her either. Her small body, wracked with sobs, shook along with the walls as thunder rumbled. Flashes of lightning caused her tiny hands to curl around her ears in anticipation. As she grew, even the sound of rain set her heart racing. She moved to the desert the first chance she got.” 

Read the whole story here: https://vocal.media/fiction/r-u-n-vzan7m0c9z 

Photo: Pedrafita do Cebreiro, Galicia, Spain

[enbytheology]

Haifa

[enbytheology]

Olive Harvest 2021, Palestine

[enbytheology]

Making Superman bisexual is 'bandwagoning not brave' - actor Dean Cain

Not everything has to be brave. 

Cain uses a strawman argument, “If they had done this 20 years ago, perhaps that would be bold or brave. But brave would be having him fight for the rights of gay people in Iran.

1. Yes, LGBTQ rights in the SWANA region are needed. It is illegal and punishable by law, and even by death in some countries (looking at you Saudi Arabia). 

2. Also, LGBTQ rights aren’t in great shape in the US—trans rights have been limited further in recent years, even as public knowledge and overall cultural acceptance has begun to shift. Not to mention the fact that overturning Roe v Wade will likely waterfall into overturning Lawrence v Texas and Obergefell v Hodges. 

3. Bisexual people have higher rates of depression and anxiety than straight or gay people and have higher rates of suicidal ideation (66% of bisexual youth felt sad and hopeless for two or more weeks in a row in the past 12 months, compared to 27% straight youth, 49% gay and lesbian youth. 48% of bisexual youth seriously considered suicide, 40% have made a plan for how they would attempt suicide, and 27% have attempted suicide).

Not everything has to be earth-shattering to be important. And yet, this actually would be brave.

1. 9.1% of series regular characters on primetime TV in 2021 are LGBTQ -- a decrease from 10.2 percent in 2020. 

2. Only 4 people are writing these stories (spoilers: they’re all queer, Black women, or both).

3. Bisexual characters have gotten more screen time, bisexual men though are still used as the punchline of jokes most of the time without any real representation (2020-21 bisexual characters make up 28 percent of all LGBTQ characters Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon, 65 women and 33 men, and one character who is non-binary). 

Stop trying to outsource problems and make it seem as if they don’t exist in the United States and that there isn’t still a massive issue of homophobia and biphobia in US media. These references are mostly to TV representation, and we don’t even know if this character will even make it to TV screens for young people to see that representation.

Comic books are a fantastic medium for art and storytelling, so why not reflect the real stories of the people reading them? It doesn’t have to be Superman going somewhere else to fight battles. Living his life and loving someone of the same gender is a way to connect with readers living the same experience, and normalizes love and identities without turning it into a violent fight. 

Perhaps it’s overstated, but representation matters. 

As a queer person who identifies as bisexual, I am desperate for stories about LGBTQ folks that aren’t centered on fighting, struggle, loss, and hurt. Those are real issues, of course. That’s all we have for representation, though. I am excited to see a happy, healthy, positive representation of queer people just existing. 

By not making the story about being LGBTQ, DC Comics is making a radical statement—LGBTQ people exist and live their lives like everyone else. 

The final word on this should go to Tom Taylor, the series writer, “We have people saying they read this news today and burst into tears - people saying they never thought in their life that they would be able to see themselves in Superman... literally the most powerful superhero in comics.” This character is for those people, so they can say, “‘This Superman is like me. This Superman is fighting for things that concern me.’”

[writing-prompt-s]

Among heroes, you are known as the call that can wait. You rob banks, steal artworks, deface buildings, the likes. Among villains, you are to be left alone under any circumstances. Somebody didn’t get the memo, and now they’re paying for it, with interest.

[enbytheology]

Hello. My name is Eulalie. To people I love, I am Lolly. I’m not very big, coming in at just 5 feet and 1 inch. I look like a strong breeze would pick me up and carry me away. If you saw me on the street, I’d look approachable. And I am. Kids and animals flock to me, and I cannot get enough of those cute little baby laughs. 

My other name is The Unnamed. 

I look unassuming and approachable, and that is the greatest disguise and defense I have. I usually take people by surprise. That’s my favorite, watching people realize just who they’ve crossed paths with. One second they have this condescending look when facing me. And then they realize who I am as soon as I open my mouth and speak.

With a single word, I can scramble your brain. With another, I can liquify your intestines. With another, I can stop your heart. My favorite word, though, paralyzes you. Not permanently, but long enough. It freezes every nerve in your body while leaving your brain fully aware and functioning. 

These, of course, are not words you can hear, more the soundwave and vibration I use combined with a word of power. The words wouldn’t work for anyone else either. My magic is different from everyone else’s. It works in nonviolent ways too.

See, I am a granddaughter (with many greats in front) of Circe, the first witch.

We have a tradition not to name babies until we have an idea of their power—for anywhere from 10 days to 5 years. My mother named me Eulalie when I was 3 days old because I could get anyone within earshot of my cries or coos to give me exactly what I wanted. My name means “sweet voice.” 

Now I mostly make a living stealing. Often art, and I also love stealing from corporations and governments and siphoning money from the wealthiest people’s bank accounts. I don’t keep most of the money, of course. I keep what I may need and what my family may need, and the rest is redistributed. 

This, of course, has me labeled as a criminal and villain. 

(You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes.)

I have a unique reputation, though. None of the “superheroes” answer the call when it’s for me—they prefer their hearts beating and recognize my success means our soup kitchens can function. The criminal world knows to leave me the hell alone until I need to make a sale unless they want their kidneys to be soup.

So imagine my shock when I get a message threatening me for stealing a piece of art someone else had a contract on. I don’t care what contract they had. I didn’t even sell this piece. I just liked it. The Goldfinch was precisely the perfect addition to my bedroom; next to my door, a mirror positioned perfectly on the opposite wall reflects the painting in perfect symmetry. 

I’m fascinated that someone is actually willing to threaten me over a painting. Honestly, if they had asked nicely, I may have just given them the money instead. But they told me they were going to pry my nails off one by one for taking their commission. And I don’t like their tone. Though I can respect the attitude. 

So I tell them exactly where they can find me. And then I put the word out in the networks. In case somehow my abilities have come into question or doubt. I plan to take care of this issue with an audience. Remind everyone exactly why they don’t do this. 

----

Two days later, I’m lounging in the middle of the stage at Carnegie. Some colleagues have taken my invitation literally. They are scattered around the audience, just waiting for the show to begin. The network has been silent since I invited everyone. It’s only my non-legally inclined colleagues watching openly from the main auditorium. Though I can tell, a couple of heroes are standing in the shadows up in the balconies. 

“You should just come out and join us, actually enjoy the show from a seat. It’s probably going to be a while, you might get tired.” I call up to them. All the heads of those seated in the theater turn to stare where I’ve directed my command. 

Three people slink out of their shadows and take seats. I hear crunching coming from somewhere. I spot Daniel chowing down on a bag of popcorn. Daniel is a hacker, he helps me from time to time with bank heists. 

“Darling, did you bring some for me too?” Daniel meets my eyes with a smirk and just nods. He stands and walks to the edge of the stage, and I see the second bag of popcorn in his hand. When he reaches me, I take the bag and dart forward, quickly landing a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, do you want to get dinner on Thursday?” 

He’s bright red from the public display, but a grin stretches across his face, “I’ll pick you up at 7:00.” 

“Wear something nice. Maybe those gray pants?” Oh, he can go even redder. He knows what pants I mean. 

“Only if you promise not to keep your hands to yourself.” And then he winks. 

“Deal. You might want to sit down now, you don’t want to be in the splash zone, and I think they should be here any minute.” 

Daniel isn’t seated for more than a second before stage door left slams open. 

An absolutely massive man stomps in. He looks as stupid as I assume he is. How did he even plan to steal the painting? How was he planning to get through the security? He looks and moves as gracefully as a turkey. 

“Kind of you to finally join us. We’ve been waiting,” I say as I gesture to the audience. That seems to confuse him. He is actually dumber than I anticipated. 

“You’re the one that stole my commission?” He’s glaring daggers at me. 

“You’re the one that was dumb enough to threaten me?” I quip back. He scoffs. 

“Dumb? What are you going to do? Scream mean things at me while I pluck your nails off?” He’s sneering now. God, I really did not think he’d be this slow. I turn to Daniel and wink. He’s fighting back a smile. 

“Well, I don’t plan on screaming anything, but I have some choice words for you.” It took years, but I can narrow my power to target individual people only, useful for situations like this or when I don’t want to harm bystanders. It’s actually why I like paralyzing people. Terrifying but not harmful, especially if someone gets caught in the crossfire. 

He’s scoffing while I open my mouth and let out a soft sound. He goes completely rigid. His eyes are moving wide with terror because it’s slowly dawning on him he can’t move. And then his eyes find me. 

“Because you’ve somehow managed to make it this far into the game without realizing who I am and what I can do. Let me introduce myself. My name is Eulalie. Or to everyone else in this room, except Daniel, I am The Unnamed. Does that ring any bells? Blink once if it does.” I’m slowly circling him, but I pause in front of him, waiting for the blink. It doesn’t come, “Wow, dumber than I thought. See, with a single word, I can paralyze you. Which is what I did. I can also remove all your fingernails, slowly, with one word.” At that, I breathe out another lilting sound, and I watch as his eyes widen further, and I can tell he would be screaming if he could. 

“Did that hurt? I came up with that spell after your little note. I’ve never done it before, but that was oddly satisfying. Though I suppose actually being able to hear your scream would have been good.” I can see the tears leaking from the corner of his eyes now. It seems his fate is finally sinking in. “See, I don’t like being threatened. And I don’t get threatened. Because most people are smart enough not to fuck with me. You seem to have done poor research on who ‘stole’ your commission, or you naively underestimated the reports. I don’t like being threatened, and I will not tolerate it. So I invited everyone here in case the reports you got were just wholly underwhelming and to remind everyone just how vindictive I am.” I address the room now, “Remember everyone, I am a petty bitch, and I will take great joy in pulling you apart limb by limb, slowly.” 

I turn back to the guy whose name I didn’t even bother learning. His hands are dripping blood, and the tears are pouring from his eyes now. I look into his eyes for a few silent moments.

“You fucked up.” And now, a word that will rip his muscle tissue in his thighs and back and shoulders softly falls from my lips. He crumples to the ground, and I release the spell holding him paralyzed. He can’t run away. And his screams fill the hall. The acoustics amplifying and sending his screams reverberating.

Next, through clenched teeth, the word to melt his intestines is a hiss. More agonized screaming. I breathe another word to keep him awake and aware, I’m not done quite yet. I get up close and whistle into his ear, his brain starts to short circuit. Neurons fire, paralyzing him and causing red hot pain from one second to the next. I watch as he squirms. But I’m getting bored. I look out at the faces, they are a combination of horrified, terrified, and awed. I turn back to the man. I sigh, and his heart constricts, it’s only a matter of a second before I see the light in his eyes extinguished. I have to stop the spell on his brain with another breath because he continues to twitch and jerk, and honestly, it’s grotesque. 

I spin around, “Well, that was fun. I hope you all have a terrible day, except you, Daniel. And you,” I say to those in the balconies, “You can call whoever it is you need to call and let them know a known art thief has been found tragically dead, from who knows what, on stage at Carnegie.” 

I leap straight down from the stage and walk up the aisle where Daniel is still quietly munching away at his popcorn. I pause next to him, taking his hand, “I need a drink.” 

[writing-prompt-s]

You were born with the ability to see the cause of people’s future end as floating text above them. No dates, just a simple word of what causes their death in the future. One day you are leaving to work, but when you step outside you notice everyone has the same text above them, “You.”

[enbytheology]

I can’t quite remember how old I am. It feels as if I’m older than everything, though this planet isn’t nearly as old as creation, and I am definitely younger than the planet. I only blipped into existence after this place had found its equilibrium and multi-cell intelligent life was emerging. 

So I can’t be older than everything. 

I was cursed with knowing exactly how every person will die. I can see it. When I look at someone, I can see the thing that causes their death. I tried ripping my eyes out when I realized. It didn’t work. 

The most important Rule I have to follow, as set out by the Creators: I can’t tell anyone how they die. If my death was on the line, I’d do it without a second thought—I care very little for myself. 

No. I am more like some sort of self-destruct mechanism for the whole planet. A cruel joke from the Creators. Or maybe I am not a cruel joke but a safety, in case things go sideways. It seems like that was the direction things were headed when I was young. Perhaps that is precisely why they allowed me to come into existence. I go down with the ship, even if my sisters can escape—I am integrally tied to the death of this planet.

My sisters functionally abandoned me when they figured out exactly what my gift from the Creators was. They had nice things, or at least useful. Sola can manipulate light, bend it, stretch it, fold it. She’s spent her years showing humans how to build temples and now how to look back to the beginning of everything. I’m sure she’s working on showing them how to fold it next. Though she’ll need to get Tími on board. Light can’t be folded for travel and exploration without folding time too. See, Tími can manipulate time. She has spent her existence jumping along timelines as dictated by the Creators to keep the humans on the correct timeline. 

I don’t know what “right timeline” means, personally. I do know I can royally fuck up Tími’s job, so she avoids me like I am her own personal plague when we aren’t required to meet. We were willed into existence as opposites. I oversee the chaos of death, and she maintains the order of life. To be fair, Tími also avoids Sola, who she just doesn’t get along with.

Before we get to me, I have two more sisters, Máni and Avi. 

Máni controls the tides and light refractions and absorption, and therefore darkness. She and Sola have to work together a lot; they came into being together. She’s also the only one of my sisters who ever voluntarily spends time with me. Thankfully, I can’t see any of my sister’s deaths. Or the Creators, for that matter. I can only see the death that is coming while I exist. It’s strange, knowing all of my sisters will exist after I have ceased. Strange how death will be the first to go.

Avi also doesn’t ever interact with me. This hurts the most. We were brought into existence as twins. She oversees the creation of new life and sustaining life on this planet. She basically has to wrangle our sisters into a semblance of order to function to make everything work. Sola and Máni are not great at listening, truthfully. She mostly leaves Tími and me to our work. 

I fundamentally disrupt Avi’s purpose, but I think I just make Sola sad. Máni is a little more at ease with the darker aspects of creation. Death mostly happens at night, in the dark, did you know? And Tími is just so busy, and I could easily disrupt the timeline if someone dies at the wrong moment or doesn’t die at the right moment. 

Because not only can I see people’s deaths, I am tasked with making sure people are where they’re supposed to be. To get people where they’re supposed to be, I do actually have to meet with Tími regularly. I also help guide spirits to the Beyond under cover of darkness each day. I have help gathering the spirits. There are lower beings that the Creators made to gather all the spirits each day, and then I take them to the Beyond in a single journey. 

The Beyond is where the Creators exist. It isn’t “heaven.” It isn’t “hell” either. Humans have weird concepts of how this all works. We all exist and function within the rules of the universe. We don’t get to break the rules. We aren’t gods. We can’t go to the Beyond. That would be against the rules. I’m actually the only one that knows where the door is. That’s another Rule. I can’t tell anyone where the door is. 

I suppose there must be more of us guarding and caring for other planets, life elsewhere. The Creators don’t tell us much, but I know that Rule too: no seeking out those like us or life somewhere else. 

We’re tasked with keeping this planet in balance. So that is what we do. 

My name is Deyja. I begin each day cataloging new ways people will die. And today, when I look around, I see my face everywhere.

[enbytheology]

i wonder how

i wonder how

how it took me so long

so long to figure out

figure out 

i am a queer

Then I remember the crushes on girls. I remember the way I thought about being a boy as often as I was proud to be a girl. I remember the way I loved women. I remember the way I was terrified. I remember the way I compensated. I remember the way I refused to wear anything feminine. I remember the way I had crushes on boys, but not as a girl. 

i am a queer

i wonder why 

why it took me so long

so long to figure out

figure out

Then I remember the world we live in. I remember the messages I heard and saw from family and media. I remember seeing other queer people. And I remember the horror the people around me reacted with. I remember the poorly masked disdain and disgust. I remember knowing people like that exist. And I remember being terrified I was one of them. 

and I don’t wonder

wonder how or why because

because i know 

i know i am majestically, wonderfully, queer.

[enbytheology]

In exciting news I have started to narrow down my list of where I want to do my PhD. And in more exciting news, I have figured out the elevator pitch for my research and have a working title!

[enbytheology]

Overlooking Nablus, from Mt. Gerizim.

The Samaritan community in Nablus is one of, if not the oldest, consistent communities and can trace their presence on this land back nearly 3,500 years. 

It is where the Israelites originally settled after coming out of Egypt, and had been the land Jacob had initially purchased for his family. The Samaritans are made up of what was the 10 northern tribes that turned into the northern kingdom. They were conquered by the Assyrians in 720s BCE and after a time when there were Samaritan exiles in Assyria and Assyrian exiles in Samaria—they were allowed to return. This was the original kingdom of Israel nearly 3,000 years ago. Separate from the kingdom of Judah, which is the kingdom we are most familiar with as the “Kingdom of Israel” in the Bible. Also, separate from the current state of Israel, as the Samaritan communities have persisted in this place, and now speak Arabic and are culturally very similar to Palestinians—in fact they hold 3 passports, Israeli, Palestinian, and Jordanian. 

Mt. Gerizim is where the very first temple was built, before Solomon built the Judaean temple. Samaritans practice a religion very similar to Judaism, however, based only on the first 5 books—the Torah. And they use the oldest version of these texts written in ancient Hebrew text, still. They also continue to perform animal sacrifice in the ruins of the former Temple there, while they await the messiah to return and rebuild the Temple. The priesthood is also still inherited, as it was in Judaism before the need for rabbis as the Jerusalem Temple was destroyed. The priests trace their family lineage back 164 generations to Adam. The community is insular, and their numbers that were in the millions during the time when Jesus lived, have fallen to just over 800. 

[enbytheology]

Discoveries

CW: mentions of gender dysphoria and eating disorders

I only recently came out as nonbinary because I only really began to realize my gender didn’t align until the COVID lockdown. I had more time to think and less capacity to worry about how others perceive me. 

It was incredibly liberating to realize that I am not a woman despite the fact that I have been socialized as one, that I am perceived as one. I have never felt more myself, nor less constrained by society. 

I choose to use she/her and they/them pronouns. However, I recently talked to a friend about pronouns, gender journeys, and the need to accommodate others and make myself more palatable. Do I only use she/her because it doesn’t distress me and will make others more comfortable? I am more comfortable with they/them. I am uncomfortable with gendered terms. I’m even finding myself deeply uncomfortable with compliments like “beautiful.” 

As time passes, I also become more and more at ease identifying as transgender. Initially, I felt uncomfortable and wrong to identify as trans—because I love how my body is perceived as feminine. And yet, I recognize more and more how I do not identify as a woman. I also acknowledge that much of my hesitance to identify as trans is about internalized transphobia. The expectations we have created around trans folx needing to medically transition to be trans. And I do not want that. I have spent many years hating my body—and realizing I’m nonbinary helped me learn how to love it fully. I am not in the wrong body—society has created incorrect and narrow expectations and assumptions for people who have bodies like mine.

Experiencing gender euphoria was something that helped me finally realize I am nonbinary. Shaving my head, wearing more “men’s” clothing, the way my body still appeared very feminine in “men’s” clothing, playing with involved makeup looks—for the first time, I felt like I saw me, I was authentic to me. 

I didn’t think I’d experienced gender dysphoria. Not everyone does. 

I recently moved to the Middle East. I have to be closeted. I have to keep this to myself. And that also means I have to fit into the cultural expectations, especially as clergy. This means I’ve been growing my hair out for the first time since I shaved it in April 2020. Every time I look in the mirror, I see myself hiding. I see my younger self who used their hair to hide who they are. I don’t see myself. I see someone playing at being a woman, and it is overwhelming. I hate it. I hate my hair. I hate the person I see in the mirror. And I hate that I have to pretend to be someone I am not. 

Every time someone calls me a woman. Every time someone calls me beautiful. Every time someone mentions marriage or husbands—I feel physically ill. 

For 15 years, I’ve struggled with an eating disorder. And since realizing I am nonbinary, I have made massive strides in loving and caring for my body, even on days when the dysmorphia is bad. Now, dressing feminine. Doing my hair. Doing my makeup. Putting on this fake persona every morning after exploring that freedom makes me feel like I am drowning as if someone is sitting on my chest. 

I don’t think I am okay. And I am worried about what harm I am doing to my spirit by living this way. 

[enbytheology]

Open Secret

I am an ordained pastor. And I am very queer. I identify as nonbinary and bisexual, though I typically just use gay or queer (she/they). 

This is very much okay in my denomination and was a big part of my ordination. However, I am currently serving abroad in a place where it is not okay. My position is through a global missions organization and I was invited to serve in a church in the Middle East working with interreligious engagement—I’m going to keep it nice and vague to protect myself, my job, and my residency. If the bishop were to get an inkling that I am queer my contract would be terminated. And I’m already on thin ice in terms of pastoral service since I’m a woman. 

The priest I am actually working with is a friend, and he knows, and is lovely. So I’m not completely closeted. However, I have had more people comment on my marriage status, and hint at setting me up, in the last 3 weeks since I moved than I have in the last 7 years of my adult life—at some point after university my family and friends just stopped asking. 

While I am attracted to men, I’m not at a place in my life where I want to date them, and I really cannot picture myself marrying a man. I don’t think 95% of the community would be cool with me dating women though. 

And absolutely no one here knows I am nonbinary. 

My friend, the priest, asked me about transgender people the other day. He doesn’t know much about the LGBTQIA2S+ community so it was a very introductory conversation. He seemed to grasp different sexualities, but struggled understanding the differentiation between sexuality and gender. And really struggled to understand the concept of transgender. Which, I get. When you’ve never questioned your identity or gender in any way it is a complicated concept to grasp that someone else’s identity would differ from whatever they were assigned at birth. 

I only recently figured out and came out as nonbinary. The pandemic actually helped by allowing me the time to explore and think and get to know myself better. 

Suddenly living in a place where I have to keep such important and integral pieces of myself—that I love—secret is going to much more difficult than I even imagined. So much of my theology and understanding of life and people are inherently shaped to my sexuality and gender. Which is why I’ve created this. This is an account completely detached from any piece of my life. It is a place I can be open and honest and write about how I am feeling. Primarily though, this is where I want to begin constructing a queer liberation theology, focused on the experiences of those outside the gender binary and those outside the binary of sexuality. A queer liberation theology focused on deconstructing the binary. 

So I don’t really care if anyone even reads this, but if you are, hello! I hope that perhaps this can be a theology that helps you find affirmation and maybe even healing.