How Reading "Call Me By Your Name" is Helping Me Heal from Moody Bible Institute
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The first book I read this spring after graduation was André Aciman’s Call Me By Your Name. Captivated, I finished the book in three days and wept as the last sentences of the book brought the story to a close. Me reading this will not have any consequences—this realization echoed within the long-forgotten corner of my mind. For the first time in three years, the threat of expulsion, interrogation, or ostracization no longer loomed over my literary curiosities. I am liberated.
Elio immerses himself in books; they are his life, and in some sense, they are his liberation—endless possibilities to combine theory and praxis. Yet it did not stop there. Elio’s knowledge of poetry, history, and music interweaves into every relationship he has. Reading is not the endpoint of his freedom, rather it is the launching point into his communal life and, inevitably, his love life. Freedom is stifled when humans cannot connect to their communities through literature as Elio had.
Frederick Douglass once stated, “Once you learn to read, you will be forever free.” His words ring just as loud and as true today. In Florida, book banning impedes the education of future generations by restricting literature that challenges bigotry. Though many are aware of the literary restrictions in public schools, what I have experienced, however, is the unspoken book banning in Christian higher education. Indeed, there is a “freedom” to hold varying beliefs and theological perspectives; nevertheless, reading in conflict with conservative Evangelical institutions proves costly.
Founded in 1886, Moody Bible Institute (MBI) maintains its legacy as a missionary school—the “West Point of Bible colleges” as one professor put it during my freshman orientation. It is generally understood within the walls of MBI that an individual cannot receive such “academic” or “biblical” education anywhere else at an undergraduate level—qualifiers that often hold an especially conservative and aggressive tenor. The unspoken rule of the institution is “to read what we tell you to read, reject what we say is dangerous, and never question our authority”. In my experience, subversively reading banned books at a conservative Evangelical institution is dangerous, and if done at all, it could make you a suspect. Despite the danger, reading is liberation.
“We Want You Uninformed”
In a theology course, one of the textbooks assigned was Christ, Baptism, and the Lord’s Supper by Leonard Vander Zee. Soon after, a friend informed me that he now affirms homosexuality; my curiosity led me to Vander Zee’s lecture on the topic. Subsequently, as any student in higher education should, I voiced my discovery and queried: “How we should interact with the material knowing the author’s shift in theology?” The professor responded jokingly, “If we were in person I would choke you right now, I did not want to talk about that.” Reading for him had to be controlled and students’ imaginations had to remain narrow for the sake of “orthodoxy”.
“As they strayed too far towards treacherous literature,
their pursuit of diversity deemed them untrustworthy,
even ‘dangerous.’”
Queer, feminist, or liberation theology was socially disallowed, and though it contradicted Moody’s doctrinal statement, it is not against the written rules to read them. However, books that challenged patriarchal or racist hierarchies were mocked in classes by some of the bible and theology staff; their authors were disregarded as heretics or simpletons.
For example, following Moody’s Dr. Marcus Johnson’s unfair and besmirching book review on Women and the Gender of God, students became increasingly polarized; openly declaring “heresy” over Peeler and those that agreed with her. Johnson and others misrepresented Peeler’s work. This aggression and manipulation of facts ultimately led to my adoption of progressive theological views (a discussion for a different day).
I have been hurt by this “West Point” mentality. It has told me to not read out of curiosity because I could not be trusted; women could not be trusted; people of color could not be trusted. We were expected to join the project to be what Jennings names in After Whiteness: An Education in Belonging, “white masculine self-sufficiency". We could only be trusted if we became obedient peons to Whiteness.
Banned Books and The Mark They Leave
These books leave a mark. What mark? A professor explained that students who outwardly show interest in race, gender, or liberation in class are given “the mark.” My friends and I were marked. It allowed professors who feared a rebellion to keep an eye on students and staff.
These books, to my knowledge, are what marked me.
Willie J. Jennings, The Christian Imagination: Theology and Origins of Race (Yale University Press: 2011)
Amy Peeler, Women and the Gender of God (Eerdmans Publishing Co.: 2022)
Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation (Orbis Books, 1988)
Justo L. González, Mañana: Christian Theology from a Hispanic Perspective (Abingdon Press, 1990)
But what does Call Me By Your Name have to do with my time at Moody?
Elio read and acted freely with seemingly no rules. Interestingly, it left him with “nothing to rebel against.” Elio is liberated because he is trusted to read and act according to his convictions. A ‘pedagogy of trust’ penetrated the lives of those in the book, something many students long for in institutions like MBI. For the numerous alumni who were close with certain aggressive-leaning professors, their bonds were proven fragile. As they strayed too far towards treacherous literature, their pursuit of diversity deemed them untrustworthy, even "dangerous."
After the love affair between Elio and Oliver ended at the end of the summer, the saddened Elio spoke with his father. The perceptive parent provided wisdom to his son’s emotions: sadness, joy, love, and grief. Like Elio, many would rather go numb and pretend their experiences were menial. Unlike him (and his lover), Moody and its rejected students will never hope to converge again. We must hold honesty and the need to heal in constant tension.
In our experiences in hostile environments, Elio’s father has a prophetic word, “to feel nothing so as not to feel anything—what a waste!” Many would rather forget their time at Moody and to be forthright, many have experienced far worse things than not being allowed to read (refer to The Roys Report on Moody). Yet by forgetting, one cuts away parts of themselves, and as Elio’s father said it leaves us with less to give to the next person. “What a waste!”
Call Me By Your Name is my first queer literature and will not be my last. Nor will it be the last book that I speak freely about in future classes and communities. Many know the power of reading that which reflects our lived experiences. Our liberation is in our savior’s trust and our community’s trust in us to read and love. Healing is in our liberation one book at a time.