Various Stages of Mormondom

Hi, we're up and running again at a new site

2007-04-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

Howdy, we have started anew and moved to http://vsom.wordpress.com. Please go there and join the conversation.

Depression is the word of the week

2006-05-10T11:09:00.000-07:00

Our topics are always so coincidental.

One of my associates quit this week because her depression was interfering with her work. She just left one day last week and has not come back. I finally had to make the awkward phone call telling her that basically she no longer had a job. She has struggled with this problem for a while, and she explained to me that she doesn’t think she was a very good employee and that it wasn’t fair to put that burden upon me and the company. I feel for her. Sadly, she was correct. She wasn’t doing very well and was on the way to being let go anyway. She said that she has a doctor (a psychiatrist I think) whom she is working with. I hope everything turns out OK. She’s getting married in a few weeks.

Do we all suffer from depression? While I myself have very real episodes, I still think of depression as a dirty word. While I am as empathetic as they come, I still roll my eyes at the condition.

I spent the greater part of my teenaged years depressed. Really depressed. I had a lot of anxieties and hang-ups, but didn’t know how to deal with them. I didn’t know you COULD deal with them. Generalized anxiety disorder wasn’t popular then, and neither was Paxil, Zoloft, or Prozac.

My depression is cyclical. While the anxiety comes like clockwork (it is connected to monthly hormones), the depression cycle takes much longer. About 3 times a year I will stay in bed for two to three days because “I don’t feel well.” I will have a bad week with the in-bed time sandwiched in, and then I will slowly come out of the funk and not even remember what it feels like to be depressed. Isn’t that strange, that I can’t really remember what it’s like unless it’s happening?

Just yesterday, I was listening to the radio on the way to work and the guest had written a book about depression. He described his inability to get out of bed for weeks. I turned my head and only listened out of the corner of my eye because I have a hard time accepting how close that reality is for me sometimes.

Any resolutions? Perhaps. Depression is an awful, awful thing. You can’t suck it up or pray your way out of it. A lot of times medication is a good solution, sometimes the only solution for someone to lead a “normal” life.

But I have a fantastic life. I have a husband I LOVE, a nice house, a job I enjoy, family and friends, and a naturally sunny disposition. I have a hard time admitting that I have a little black rain cloud waiting in the wings.

Carrie Ann

You can't always get what you want...but you can get anything you want at Alice's restaurant

2006-05-05T16:12:00.000-07:00

At one point on my mission, 4 missionaries lived in an apartment which was roughly 2/3 the size of my living room. I was one of those missionaries. Elder Miles, our district leader, lived there, too. Okay, the whole district was in there.

One day, Elder Miles was on splits with the local Zone leader (whose name I cannot recall). While they were out, they stopped in a local shop. I should tell you that we were in Russia (post-Soviet) and that our missionary funds were excessive for the area in which we lived. Instead of packing up and shipping out excess funds each month, as I am sure we would have done if we were more socially conscious, we bought a lot of frozen pizza. The funny thing about the frozen pizza, was that it was often Scandanavian in origin. So, we were unable to read the boxes. Nonetheless, we had a good idea about what was on individual frozen pizzas because the good people in Scandanavia shipped their pizzas in brightly colored boxes that featured pictures on the pizzas inside. Cheese, pepperoni, and supreme pizzas were easy to spot and eaten often.

On this particular day, Elder Miles and the Zone leader were flipping through the pizzas in the freezer in much the same manner that one would flip through LPs in a record store. Suddenly, they stopped. They marvelled at what their eyes beheld. It was a Hawaiian pizza. There was the pineapple. There was the ham. Perhaps they thought it odd that this distinctly American pizza had made it into Russia, via Scandanavia, but they didn't care. It was a taste of home. It was bought and it was to be quickly consumed, before the other elders in the tiny apartment (including me) got home.

I should say that Russia, at this point, was on the cusp of its current craziness. Yeltsin was still in power, drinking himself into irrelevance. The area in which we worked was dominated by Mafioso (hence the upscales stores with frozen pizzas). So, while it wasn't impossible to get American foodstuffs, it was rare and expensive. Missionaries went ga-ga over the stuff. I knew missionaries who bought out kiosks of cases of root beer (near 100 cans of the stuff). I personally combined funds with a companion to a buy store out completely of its accidentally acquired stock of canned chili (50 cans consumed in about 2 and 1/2 weeks). So, I did not begrudge them their find, as I likely would have done the same and I know that it would have been shared if there had been more than one pizza.

In any case, when I came home, I saw two of the most disconsolate missionaries I had ever seen. The pizza had been a mistake. You see, the pineapple, pictured on the box, had turned out to be pale celery. The juicy pink ham was actually salmon. Much more suited to the Scandanavian palatte, don't you think?

They were heartbroken. They could not bring themselves to eat it, or even look at it. My companion and I, however, were unburdened by false expections and, hey, free pizza is free pizza. It wasn't bad if you knew what it was.

I am sure that there is a lesson about religion somewhere in that. Our expectations often prevent us from enjoying blessings that come at us sideways. It is helpful to really understand what you are getting before you dig in. Though the pizza may not be to your taste, it doesn't mean that it is valueless as food. Finally, God loves a good joke. May he smile upon you, too.

Posted by HP

I Have a Testimony of Pepperoni

2006-05-04T04:02:00.000-07:00

In case you've missed it, the topic this week on Various Stages of Mormondom is "Pizza." Don't look at me, it wasn't my suggestion. It is particularly cruel for me to have to write on the topic of pizza because I am lactose intolerant. I wasn't born lactose intolerant; it's something that developed in my early twenties. I've loved pizza since I was a kid, especially the Godfather's Combination pizza. When my parents picked me up from the airport after two years in Argentina, I made them stop on the way home at Godfather's.

And though you may already hear the creaking of an over-extended metaphor, I think Mormonism and religion in general are a lot like pizza for me. Sure, it's not an exact analogy, but I think it has some good points.

Just because I can't eat pizza, it doesn't mean that I don't want anyone else to eat it. My wife and I order pizza all the time; she eats the pizza, and I have a meatball sub (sans frommage). I am happy that she is happy eating the pizza. What the pizza does to my digestive system has no relevance to her enjoyment of it.

Just because I can't eat pizza doesn't mean that I don't occasionally enjoy the smell of it. That doesn't mean that I want to live in a pizzeria (or next door to one), or have pizza rubbed in my face every single day. But I have no problem with a normal amount of pizza.

If I eat a slice of pizza, I will get sick. But I can pick off the pepperoni and eat them without consequences. There is no reason not to eat the pepperoni if it is the cheese that makes you sick. Of course, you shouldn't cherry pick all the pepperoni off a slice and leave it inedible.

Finally, please believe me when I tell you I can't eat pizza. Some people have told me that there is no lactose in pizza, and that I should feel free to eat it. I have eaten it and I know that there is something in pizza makes me very sick, very quickly. Perhaps I'm misidentifying lactose as the root of my problem, but there definitely is a problem.

Do I envy the pizza-eaters? Sure, though not as much as I used to. I miss the strings of cheese that stretch from your mouth to the slice. I miss eating the cold leftovers in the morning for breakfast. But it's been a few years since I've eaten pizza, and I'm okay with that.

It does help that I've found a substitute: my wife discovered a pizzeria that offers pies made with brown rice cheese. The restaurant is a pain to get to, and the pizza isn't quite like the Godfather's that I remember, but it is worth it to me to eat pizza and not get sick.

After all, isn't that the point? Everyone needs to eat, but they don't all need to eat the same thing.

Posted by Ned Flanders.

A delight

2006-04-28T13:02:00.000-07:00

To talk about the Sabbath Day is to talk about commandments in general. After all, the strictures that we generally find imposed on ourselves during the Sabbath are just the sort of things that people go to day spas to enjoy. A day without media? Isn't that why people go camping? Isn't that what people are after with yoga classes and morning Tai Chi in the park? Meditation and a connection to the divine? What else would you like?

Well, for starters, it seems like we would like our meditation to come in shorter doses (not as long as daylight). We would like to set aside our quiet day in the event that there is something noisy and interesting coinciding with a Sabbath. We wanna be in charge, darn it! Any day that is our own is satisfying, but it cannot be a Sabbath and that is irksome.

There is some ambiguity about the title of the Sabbath. There are two possible Hebrew sources: one meaning seven (as the Sabbath was (and remains for Jews) the seventh day of the week); the other referring to ideas of covenant and oaths. Both make sense, explaining the ambiguity I suppose. There is no moral imperative for Sundays in the Church (the Sabbath day migrates in the Middle East). So we are stuck with the covenantal idea for our justification.

So, what isn't to like about the covenant? At any given time in the church, we are the bearers of several covenants with God. Some of them involve outward displays, others are solely inward motions. Believers find them all effective and important. Indeed, believers would argue that inner belief is what makes them effective; solely outward participation may reap social rewards, but it has no eternal value.

We make a big deal in the Church of Jews, of the joys that the orthodox take in fulfilling commandments. Why just be envious? Why can't the fulfilling of commandments be a delight because it is an expression of one's love of God? I don't know, but we don't seem to be there yet.

Perhaps it is because we are still too concerned with outward appearances. I, for one, would find the Sabbath more enjoyable if it didn't involved wrestling my five-year-old into church clothes weekly. However, I keep doing it, because something about it strikes me as important. Something Ossie Davis said in Joe vs. the Volcano. Though the Sabbath and some other commandments are outward, they are meant to be expressions of inward convictions. Perhaps someday I'll get to that point. In the meantime, I'll keep on struggling with my necktie and looking forward to the goldfish in Nursery.

ps. the name has changed but the song remains the same. For more info (vague as can be), see here.

Posted by HP

Weee're Baaaaaack

2006-04-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

So, Blogger didn't like our blog, I guess, and turned it into a blank screen for a while. After emailing them regarding the issue and waiting eons for them to get back to us, I finally took matters into my own hands and discovered that I was able to fix it myself.

Let that be a lesson the next time the technical forces of the internet combine to obliterate your blog. That's what I learned.

Posted by Kaycee.

In the name of love

2006-04-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

In honor of this week's theme and in honor of Good Friday, I give you the following with one note. A dream isn't just something that happens to us. A dream can be something we strive for.

I Have a Dream
by Martin Luther King, Jr.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Happy Easter!

Posted by John C.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

2006-04-12T16:52:00.000-07:00

…I am on the stage behind the curtain in the Edinburgh chapel. In front of the curtain, three sister missionaries are holding sheet music and singing a light, jaunty, vaudevillian sort of ditty before an audience. I know that if I stick my head out between the curtains at a certain point in the song and sing a line in a funny voice, it will get a laugh, and slightly annoy the sisters singing. I wait for it…poke my head out…and belt “Oh, Joe, I love you so…you do so much for me…” No laughter…only crickets. I pull my head backstage, slightly bewildered as to how my joke could have flopped and begin to look for tap shoes that I know I won’t be able to find…

Random firings of neurons? More like, let’s fire only the neurons that explore Carrie Ann’s insecurities and self doubts.

For a couple of years, I was really good about writing down my dreams when I woke up. You know how some dreams leave you with a definite feeling? It’s strange that I can’t remember my dreams 99.9% of the time, but the ones I wrote down, when I read them I see the movie again in my head, exactly how it happened when I dreamed it, and I feel the exact same “dream-feeling.”

I love to dream. I used to lie in bed and while falling asleep remind myself to be conscious of my dreams, to be “awake” in my dreams. I swear it works. I couldn’t control my dreams, but I was much more likely to be aware that I was dreaming, and my dreams would have more of a narrative, a plot.

God uses dreams. I don’t think he’s ever used one on me, but it’s a nice medium. We are empty vessels for God to fill while we sleep. He could get a lot done that way, but that’s not how it works. He’s got his reasons on the why and when.

The purpose of my dreaming is sometimes to let me know how I’m feeling about something. Not every dream has a purpose for me, but as I keep track, I can see certain patterns. For instance: I often dream about being in some sort of performance or dance where I can’t remember my lines or the next step and I have to fake it. This is because I am a chronic procrastinator, and the anxiety of being unprepared comes out in my dreams.

Occasionally, I will dream about other people. I used to dream about celebrities a lot, especially Kurt Cobain. He was present but not front and center in my dreams for years. But mostly I will dream about people I “have issues with.” I may not know that I have issues with them until I dream about it.

But I am not big on your standard “dream interpretations.” Nothing you find on the internet is going to help you out much. Freud tried his hand at it, too. But I don’t take much stock in it.

Try interpreting this one; I had this dream in 1997:

I dreamed that a Shetland pony was in labor, and I had to deliver whatever was coming out…and what came out was a baby girl. She came with a Styrofoam hamburger box that has sausages in it, that’s how I knew it was a girl, although there was no actual baby. I tried to wrap her in something to keep her warm, she was all mucky. I went to bathe her. The tub was huge, like a stone baptismal font out in a Scottish field. I loved the baby, she was so sweet, but I was having a hard time keeping water in font. Then the pony delivered a boy; I knew this because the Styrofoam box contained hamburger pickles. Then I found out that the girl whose babies these where couldn’t be bothered to carry the babies so they had had them transferred to the pony. The dad showed up with his mom, and he was this young Scottish kid wearing jeans, a white Adidas top, and a gold chain. He said he “just wanted to see the bairns [kids]…” and that was that.

The hour is always darkest...

2006-04-07T14:12:00.000-07:00

Alonzo Gaskill, a professor at BYU, recently wrote a book about the Fall. I agree with his central thesis, even though there is a lot in the book I disagree with. The central thesis is this: the chief reason that we have the Adam and Eve narrative in the scriptures is to tell us things about ourselves, not about Adam and Eve.

Prof. Gaskill suggests that Adam and Eve are meant to symbolize us, our struggles with sin and our interaction with each other. There is some good thought in that. We all fall, like Adam and Eve did. Sometimes it is even our own fault.

The result of Adam and Eve's fall, and our own, is an estrangement from God. Our sins, our choices separate us from God. We have no means to return.

Adam and Eve were then told to turn to sacrifice, a reminder of the way back. Sacrifice is itself an act of faith. Faith transforms wanton destruction into a purgatory act of devotion. Out intent is as important as our acts (if not moreso).

We learn, in scripture, that Adam and Eve came to rejoice in the Fall, because it turned them to Christ. Though they fell from Eden, they were perfected in Christ's grace.

From this, we are meant to learn that falling is necessary, as is the request of sacrifice at times when we least feel like we can afford it. If these circumstances, derived from the life of Adam and Eve, are universal, then so must be the conclusion. If, fallen, shamed, and humbled by our choices, we turn to God, we will be remade in His image. We will follow the example of Adam and Eve into eternity and worlds without number.

Adam and Eve: Takin' One for the Team

2006-04-05T10:39:00.000-07:00

A lot of people have issues with the Fall. People who often get confused with the “be ye perfect” aspect of the Gospel have a problem with the Fall. Here’s why I think that happens:

God places Adam and Eve into the beautiful garden and tells them to take care of it, to use it, and to enjoy it. But he also tells them that while they may eat anything in the whole garden, they must not eat from one tree. He commands them not to eat from it, thus making it “official”. But they do eat because they needed to do it to gain knowledge, and because they disobeyed God, they must be sent away from him because they are no longer “perfect”…so did God set them up to fail? Did God make it unavoidable to sin? How can we be perfect when God is setting us up for failure?

Agency, people. Agency and knowledge.

Before they ate the fruit, Adam and Eve did not know good from evil, much like a baby doesn’t know or care. Lucifer, the ultimate instigator, comes along and is anxious to get the ball rolling. He has been promised that all disobedient beings will belong to him, so he’s starting early, and he has the gall to begin at the top with God’s starting players.

Lucifer offers Eve the forbidden fruit telling her “…God doth know that in the day ye shall eat thereof, then you eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.” (Genesis 3:5)

Lucifer is totally playing her. He is saying “the reason God does not want you to have this is because he’s trying to keep you down…the gods know good and evil and you don’t.” Eve knows “the gods”, she and Adam walk with God in the garden, and she knows that God knows all things and it is good, and she doesn’t. When she sees that “the tree was good for food, and that is was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise” she eats and then has Adam eat.

Eve is no fool. She knows that Adam HAS to eat it too. She does not want to leave him behind intellectually (she does not want to lord knowledge of good and evil over him and use information as power...she knows knowledge is good), but she also does not want to leave him behind physically. She knows that because she transgressed she will have to leave the garden, and Adam, behind unless he also partakes.

They eat, their “eyes are opened”, they hide from God because they know they disobeyed, yada yada, they have to leave God’s presence.

OK, remember…in Mormon doctrine (which you may or may not believe) Christ was set up as the Savior from the beginning of the beginning. Before the earth was even created God knew that to become like him we needed bodies, to have a body opens us up to all sorts of temptations, disobedience keeps us from being able to be with God, so how do we get a body AND get back to God? Oh, yeah, the Atonement.

Jesus volunteers to atone for our sins because we can’t get back without a way to get rid of sin. Adam and Eve get the whole show on the road with making a choice to either stay in the garden and be dumb, or leave the garden and have knowledge to be able to make choices. CHOICES! Adam and Eve, made a CHOICE to disobey God that we may come into existence. Lucifer didn’t want us to be able to make choices, and yet, he USED Eve’s ability to make a choice against her (he thought he was proving his point nicely) to cause her to sin. After the Fall, God put the Atonement into action; preparing the people of the earth with commandments, and with prophets who would testify that Christ was real and coming soon. It was the only way back. We can’t just be perfect and get back. We HAVE to use the Atonement. We have to acknowledge a power greater than ourselves and rely on it (the Savior) to bring us back into our Father’s presence.

(Which brings me to one of my favorite false doctrine musings…was Lucifer part of the plan, too, in some bizarre way…is he some sort of religious Slugworth who’s been working for God all along? If God is good and eternal, then there must be eternal bad, too…and where does that come from? What is the history of bad before God?..)

So years later, when Adam and Eve are sitting around with their kids, and their kid’s kids, and their grandkid’s kids (get over it people it had to be done), they say to each other (according to the Book of Moses):

Adam: “Blessed be the name of God, for because of my transgression my eyes are opened, and in this life I shall have joy, and again in the flesh I shall see God.”

Eve: “Were it not for our transgression we never should have seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient.” (Keep in mind that part of obedience is not just never making a mistake, but repenting and using the Atonement if we do…)

Adam and Eve realized what most people who are imperfect realize, we cannot make it without the good and the evil. We will not make it through life without making mistakes or without being touched by sin. People who have testimonies that Jesus is the Savior often come to know this because they have screwed up, and personally know the power of repentance and forgiveness firsthand. Speaking as an imperfect person who has screwed up royally, I have felt this power in my own life. The difference between my sinful state and my repentant state was like night and day (I am speaking of a particular period of my life…this is not to say doing it once is good enough to cover the rest of my life, or that I don’t have some major issues today…). Based on my knowledge, I have CHOSEN to try my best, and I mean my BEST, and to believe that the Savior will help me with the rest.

What the heck does Occam know, anyway?

2006-03-31T13:54:00.000-08:00

My brother flew into town last night and ate at a dinner for LDS doctors where Elder Ballard spoke. The other people at his table included an older couple named Wirthlin. They asked Rob about his schooling and, when he told them where he went, they asked him about a son of theirs. It turns out that their son was the only other LDS med student at Rob's university.

Afterwards, Rob and I sat around and talked about Mormon doctrine (sad, but true). We began to talk about Elder Hinckley, the son of President Hinckley. Neither of us had a problem with Elder Hinckley being called to the Quorum of the Seventy. I theorized that the fact that he was well known to the Brethren was a factor that contributed to his being chosen, but it wasn't the only factor. Rob felt that God had put him in that family so that he would be known at the time that God needed to call him into the Seventy. We may be looking at two sides of the same coin, but mine feels less pre-determined to me.

In our church, we believe in an active, involved God who is responsive to prayer and action on our part. As a result, we search out connections in the events and encounters in our life in order to discern the divine meaning that they communicate to us. We are encouraged to look for signs and omens and we believe that responses to our prayers can take many forms, some obvious and others less-so.

Others choose another path, one of demystification. Events that coincide simply coincide. Any meaning that we assign such coincidences is arbitrary and, therefore, without objective meaning. The patterns in tea leaves are determined by that vagaries of fluid in motion, not the unseen pattern of the universe. That drops of water create fractal patterns is interesting, but really only for the pretty pictures created. This is the strong belief that there is no man behind the curtain, so it is fruitless to search for one.

Some find in this an enticing economy of belief. Why manufacture supernatural causation when everything can be explained by experiment, human ingenuity, elegant rationality, and sufficient time?

To be frank, I don't know if my brother or I am correct in the Elder Hinckley argument. I doubt it is statistically unusual for my brother to meet the parents of an acquaintance at an LDS medical function, but it fascinates me that of the 50 or so tables available he got seated with them anyway. It isn't that I object to the search for the science in coincidence, it is that I just don't find the answers satisfying.

In high school, we read The Stranger. I was impressed by my teacher's description of the existential hero on a tight-rope over death, refusing the safety of religion or anarchy that would be found at either end of the rope. His own honesty and clarity of vision was so important that it was more important to maintain his dangerous position than to flee to the easy answers or the complete nihilism that would be found at either end of the rope. Above all, this convinced me that Camus, Sartre, and the lot were blowhards. Never buy from the salesman who assures that anyone who disagrees with his sales pitch is stupid or insane. I am sure that they are patting themselves on the back for the bravery of saying that everyone else is wrong, but I remain unconvinced.

In truth, I love connections, coincidences, and unseen forces. James Burke recently spoke at BYU and I have long been fascinated by his ideas. I believe that there is magic in the world, a mystery beyond all our understanding. Coincidence is reflective of this. May we all have the humility to admit, as in the words of Donald Rumsfeld, there are known knowns, known unknowns, and unknown unknowns. This is my prayer today.

Co-inky-dink

2006-03-30T21:30:00.000-08:00

The world of Mormonism is so small, and the descendants of polygamy are so numerous, that you, reader, know a cousin of just about any Mormon on Earth. That is, if they actually knew all the names of their 80 or so cousins.

My family is not like that. My mother was a convert and my father's family converted when he was a kid. I have a few cousins, but not that many. I've never discovered a secret connection between myself and another Mormon. One of the things I worried about/secretly hoped for when I started blogging was to run into someone I knew in real life. I shouldn't have worried; so far, I haven't met a soul.

I somehow avoided attending BYU through a stroke of sheer luck (and the good folks at [censored]'s scholarship office), so I don't have that hub of connections. I served in a large mission, but my fellow RMs seem to be singularly incurious about the bloggernacle. My father served as a mission president, and I must have known hundreds of missionaries who filed through that mission, too. Apparently, they can't read. I grew up in suburban Salt Lake, for heaven's sake! And there's nobody I know online? Well, we did have a terrible student/teacher ratio, but I refuse to believe that no one from my childhood has a computer and an interest in Mormonism.

The closest I've ever come to a Mormon coincidence happened during my (very) brief re-activation last spring. At the time, I was working in a very large law firm. If you'll remember, I would show up at the chapel just as Sacrament Meeting started and then leave immediately after the closing prayer, to avoid having to talk to anyone. As the ward was overflowing, no one ever paid me any attention.

The second Sunday I was attending, I noticed a blond man who looked very familiar entering the chapel just ahead of me. He had his wife and several kids with him and he held the door for me. There weren't a lot of spaces left in the chapel, so I ended up sitting in the pew right in front of his family. I couldn't place the man, and I thought that maybe I knew him from the mission or from growing up in Utah.

The Sacrament meeting passed without incident (except for the always embarrassing refusal of sacrament that makes you feel like you're in a white-hot spotlight) and I left without approaching or being approached by the man. By now I was certain I'd met him before, but I had absolutely no idea where.

Imagine my surprise when I saw him in the bathroom at work on Monday. Not only did he work at my firm, he worked on my floor, about ten feet from my office. He was a lawyer and I was support staff, so we never had any interaction. He must have been so familiar to me solely from passing him in the floor's only bathroom.

Even though I recognized him, I didn't say anything to him, and he didn't say anything to me. And even though we ran into each other a couple times a week coming or going from the bathroom or elevator for the next six months (until I finally moved away), we never exchanged words.

I still don't know if he just never recognized me, or if he recognized me at church the first time, and since I didn't approach him there, assumed that I didn't want to talk about it (I didn't, really). Or maybe he is just extremely introverted, like me.

At any rate, it was the only time I experienced the very small world of Mormonism. And, odds are, he is somebody's cousin. Probably yours.

Posted by Ned Flanders.

Doling out height

2006-03-24T11:34:00.000-08:00

The truth is that I, like most people, am really good at giving up. I haven't played piano or volleyball in years. I have a list of friends who I am "meaning to get in touch with", but whom I will probably never contact. I can think of a thousand opportunities that I haven't pursued because I could see my eventual failure coming from a mile away. Why bother? Don't start and you won't get hurt.

God doesn't ask much of us, really, but he does ask us to not give up. I attended a Zen Meditation Session once in Salt Lake City led by a man with the title Genpo Roshi. His basic idea is that we are all already perfect. Within our self is the complete person and if we could just quiet all the white noise of life, we could be that person. I think that there is a healthy dollop of truth in that and that it relates.

How often have we given up on ourselves? I, for one, do it all the time. When I eat junk food, instead of some fruit or when I watch TV instead of playing with my kids I give up. Whenever I do anything that is less than what I think I ought to do, what I am saying is, "Don't start and you won't get hurt. It'll all fail anyway."

Belief in God entails risk. You have to enter a relationship whose boundaries and responsibilities are undefined. Some people find this overwhelming; others fulfilling. No matter what, it seems, like all relationships, to risk pain. Giving up feels safer, because the pain you know is better than the pain you don't. You have survived this; that may kill you.

Christ uses the image of the yoke. I think this is because we often feel ourselves beasts of burden, carrying not only our problems but also all those relationships along behind us. We are the glue that holds our world together; without us, things fall apart. Christ, in offering to share or replace the yoke (depending on how you read the promise), isn't freeing us from our burden, he is just shifting it slightly. He can bear our burdens, but only to the degree to which we let him. He will keep the cart going forward, but only to the degree that we trust him to take over for us.

So, should we give up? I don't know what that means. Giving up to God seems laudable. Giving up in isolation seems like a failure to be responsible. The church is meant to relief burdens, not multiply them; nonetheless, many find only additional weight in our church. I wish I knew how to relieve their weight and am reminded of my inadequacy in their struggle.

The promise of the gospel is not to those who have it together; instead, Christ calls to those who are messed up and in pain. Where you place yourself on the spectrum of self-sufficient to screwed-up says a lot about the meaning and the necessity of Christ to you. That we are all screwed up is my testimony. Giving up is the proof.

To give up is inherently human; it isn't something that God does. The long history of the house of Israel is one of God's constancy and humanity's deviance. There is a verse I like, that may apply:

But now I go unto the Father, and also to show myself unto the lost tribes of Israel, for they are not lost unto the Father, for he knoweth whither he hath taken them. (3 Nephi 17:4)

No matter where we are, no matter how much we have given up, God knows us and loves us. He does not give up, because he knows us. There is something real and divine in each of us. If we will return, he will have us. No matter what.

I tried, I gave up...

2006-03-23T16:52:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's giving up. I quit my AYSO soccer team when I was five, along with the rest of my team, The Whip-Creamers. We quit at mid-season and were able to get our parents a decent refund, though I was reluctant to part with my shin-guards. I quit playing the drums not that long after my parents had bought me a new drum set. I quit my high school wrestling team after I failed to score a single point in any match.

One thing that I couldn't bring myself to give up on was the mission. After just a few weeks, I desperately wanted to go home. I knew, however, that if you left early, you had to pay for your own plane ticket. Since I knew my parents couldn't afford a $1500 flight from Argentina, I stayed on the mission and ended up costing them $10,000 instead. (Somehow my nineteen-year-old brain couldn't figure out that at $400 a month, a plane ticket home is the equivalent of just four months on the mish.)

I will always be glad that I didn't quit my mission, not for any religious aspect, but because it made me into who I am today. By sticking it out, I also proved to myself that I hadn't missed anything. If you leave the play at intermission, how do you know it won't get really good at the end? Staying ensured that I knew how everything ended up.

Like Kaycee and Hellmut have already commented, I think it's best to give up on something when it's not working for you. I'm glad that I've given up on the church, but I also recognize that I had to give it the old college try before I quit. Maybe I'll take up soccer on Sunday mornings in the park. I've been dying for an excuse to buy shin-guards.

Posted by Ned Flanders.

Quitter

2006-03-20T17:07:00.000-08:00

A couple of years ago I was talking to this kid, a boy, about 13 or 14 years old. We were talking about some random things and it came up that I used to play the piano.

I actually took lessons for a pretty long time--3 years and then I was off for a year, then another 2 years (all before I turned 14). I should have been a pretty decent player with all of that training... all those lessons... but I wasn't. In fact, I was pretty bad.

I told this kid that I stopped playing because it was just too hard for me (I later attributed my difficulty to the fact that I can't keep a beat--clapping in a crowd, I will still get off beat). He said, "So you gave up?" And I realized... I had broken the rule. You can't tell kids that they're allowed to give up on things.

I tried to explain to him that if you really try at something and you aren't good at it, don't enjoy it and it isn't essential for success in life, it's better to give up. I'm not sure if that's the message he got from our converstation, but it's the one I tried to convey.

If you're not good at it, you don't enjoy it and you don't have to have it to be successfull... then you're allowed to give up. Is this good advice or bad advice? Something tells me that there are situations I'm not thinking of where you have to tell someone that they can't give up. I've tried thinking them up, but, following my own advice, I give up.

Posted by Kaycee.

A Simple Question

2006-03-17T09:28:00.000-08:00

25 And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?

26 He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?

27 And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.

28 And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.

29 But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?

30 And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

31 And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

32 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

33 But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,

34 And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

35 And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.

36 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

37 And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.

Who is your neighbor?

Posted by John C.

Doubt as a hobby

2006-03-10T07:52:00.000-08:00

On a whole, I think that Latter-day Saints fail to appreciate the power of doubt. It may be natural; we are a movement that demands faith and demands acts that indicate our possession thereof. At the same time, we say that it is good to have questions. We seem to approach doubt as a hobby; something that we keep working on in the basement level of our mind; something which we always work on when something more important isn't pressing; something that fundamentally only the individual is interested in and which, therefore, ought not to be widely shared; something that can always be set aside and returned to after an appropriate interval. There is much talk in and out of the church about compartmentalization and cognitive dissonance, both of which seem to accept the hobby form of doubt as the only legitimate form. People often push us to bring the doubts up from the basement; saying that there is nothing wrong with doing it. However, there is a persistent sense that, in so doing, one will become a freak, a stamp-collector or D&D player, unfit for normal company and consigned to only finding like-minded, acne-faced peers at symposia and conventions. The public airing of our hobbies risks real public consequences.

For better or for worse, another consequence of the hobby system of doubting is that, like a dream deferred, there is a chance of explosion. As we perpetually delay going through the accumulated doubts in our spiritual basement, they come to fill the shelves and floorspace. Eventually, there is no more room and the room erupts, flowing into all other aspects of our life. There is no way to contain the doubts anymore, they are too many and too powerful. Our hobby has taken over our life, like an addiction to video games. We may never leave the basement again.

This seems to often be the conclusion of the hobby/doubt system. The thing is that doubt appears to actually be necessary. In this, I don't mean the idealized doubt of the easily satisfied, wherein one reads a single passage of scripture and is suddently convinced of the way, the truth, and the life. God's victories are not so cheaply wrought. Instead, I mean real doubt, the kind that comes from ordinary life. Perhaps it may be the result of years of basement doubts; perhaps it is the result of one horrific event. In any case, all people, at one point or another, are brought to doubt, real doubt, not something affected. Who is this God and what does he think he is doing? Real doubt isn't about how we approach God; it is rather about God himself, life itself, and the meaning we derive therefrom.

We may sometime find ourselves at a point where all of our life has stopped making sense; where clocks starting ticking backwards and dogs walk on their hind legs. Everything that you knew and know is wrong. In the grip of this doubt, there is no turning away or setting aside. One cannot help but make the hole where one's life was a focus. In the midst of this doubt, we may be presented with a choice: to believe. In particular, the choice is to believe when you don't really have any good reasons for so doing. In this moment, if you choose to believe and choose to continue in belief, you will find a new sort of life, one wherein doubt plays a minimal role and God abides with you. Of this, I have no doubt.

Posted by John C.

No Doubt

2006-03-07T15:23:00.000-08:00

You know what I find utterly hilarious about doubt? Every single time I doubt something it ends up working out and I end up feeling like a total shlump for doubting in the first place.

My whole life I doubted someone would be foolish and/or desperate enough to marry me. And then The Most Wonderful Man in the World happened across me, thought I was insane, called me back anyway, and then married me! After we got engaged (a mere 15 days after we met - another thing I highly doubted I would ever do) I felt HORRIBLE for all the times I told Heavenly Father that he was mean and uncaring and had utterly abandoned me. I had doubted the things that had been promised to me time and time and time again. I had had numerous blessings tell me that I would meet a wonderful guy who would love me just the way I am and I acutally SCOFFED at these. I rolled my eyes and said to the heavens, "As if someone could actually love ME!" But low and behold, I sit here today a Mrs. of a Mr. who happens to think I'm highly loveable even when I am cranky. And that is more often than I care to admit.

From my first menstration to about two and a half months ago I highly doubted that I would ever be a mother. I didn't think I would be able to get pregnant, and if I did I would loose the baby and that would be unbearable and I would take to my bed and never again have sex because it would be too painful to try again. (Yes, I was known as a drama queen and yes, I was simulaniously doubting that I'd get married and then thinking that even if I did get married I would be barren. I was on pills for this craziness for a while. Things are better now, don't worry.) But yet again, all that doubt and worry waS for not. I got pregnant the first time we tried with that end in mind. That only happens to 3 in 10 women! And yet here I sit, growing a baby and being married and having a life I never dreamed of.

I always doubted I could be happy. But now I know that's not true. I know that being happy is a choice. I can sit and stew in a life of doubt and uncertinty or I can just try to do my best and see what happens. So far, it's been a far superior way of life.

Posted by Sarah

I Doubt That

2006-03-06T23:31:00.000-08:00

Lest I begin to sound like a broken record, I will not be discussing how I came out of faith and into doubt... again. Instead, I'm going to tell you about the phrase that nearly resulted in commission of homicide against my dear husband.

It started about a month and a half ago. I was telling Felix, my husband of 6 months, about something at work. I said something like, "I think the principal might try to get rid of that teacher," to which he replied, "I doubt that."

Now, since Felix doesn't have an intimate working knowledge of the school where I work, he had no reason to doubt what I was saying. Therefore, I became irritated at him. Somehow, the 10 year old in him found this delightful and it became his favorite phrase to pull out at random moments.

More examples:

Me: My parents asked us to bring dessert to dinner on Sunday.
Felix: I doubt that.

Me: I'm going to get the mail.
Felix: I doubt that.

Me: (at Subway) I'm going to get the roasted chicken breast sandwich.
Felix: I doubt that.

Me: I want to see that "V for Vendetta" movie.
Felix: I doubt that.

Can you see how irritating this is? But why? I knew he wasn't serious when he said it. I think that I hate the idea of people seeing me as wishy-washy, someone you doubt as a matter of course. I've always endeavored to be reliable and trustworthy and being doubted by someone just seems degrading to me.

I didn't spell it out for Felix like this, though. I just told him, in the most stressed and animated tones, that he had to stop or I was going to kill him. Would I really have? I doubt it.

Posted by Kaycee.

Gumming up the works

2006-03-04T06:02:00.000-08:00

Before anything else, I need to apologize to JP for stepping on her day. I had most of this written yesterday, but couldn't seem to upload it until this morning. Sorry. Go read JP's post!

When I think of "the Mormon Machine," I think about the beginning of some movie that I saw in my late high-school years. It begins in a toy factory where we watch a doll or an action figure being put together piece by piece in a Goldberg-esque assembly line. Body parts are molded, moved about, painted, and stuck together to the beat of a Tori Amos song (I believe the movie was Toys, which also featured LL Cool J hiding inside of a couch). This is how I imagine the people behind the machine imagine it working: taking normal folk, adding layer and layer of spirituality and responsibility until they come out of the other side with a happy marriage, lots of loving grandchildren, and an RV with a painting of the Manti Temple on the side.

Certainly there is a bit of formality to the process. We graduate from Deacon to Teacher to Priest to Elder (insert the female equivalents here, if you like). We are told to do well in school, prepare for a mission/marriage, attend BYU, marry, have kids when you're young, and have missions and family history vacations when you are older. In this idealization, everything happens with the regularity and precision of clockwork. Become a bishop by your mid-thirties, stake president by your mid-forties, GA by your mid-fifties if you are related to one already. For the women, YW president by mid-thirties, Primary president by mid-forties, Relief society by mid-fifties. There is a certain appeal to this doctrine. It lets you know your place in the world and it allows you to judge how far along you have come and how far you have to go. It lets you know when to buy a white suit.

On my mission, I was a junior companion for the first two companionships. After this, my mission president, who believed that "senior" and "junior" companionships were unnecessary after a certain amount of experience, never put me into a junior or senior position again (well, I trained a greenie, but aside from that, nothing). I became a District Leader at about 8-9 months (clockwork) and then, a few months later, I was called into the mission office. I was on the inside, on track to become an AP or, more likely, a ZL (office elders had a certain reputation). At the end of my office tenure, I learned that I would be one of the first (young) elders to work in Armenia. I would be there for a month or two and then I would return to certain glory (in my mind's eye, my mission president, a buddy now, wouldn't let me down). I came back, got a greenie, and with that ended all mission responsibility for me. I was a rank and file missionary from then on out.

I don't know if I was offended by this. People I had come to the field with were AP's and ZL's. I was just a missionary. I didn't think much of it at the time, aside from a vague feeling that I had failed somehow. I hadn't progressed in the straight line that I thought I was supposed to. Maybe my mission president didn't like me as much as I thought. Maybe I should tract harder or improve my Russian. There must be something wrong with me, as I was no longer on the fast track to being a mission president at 50.

Herein is the problem with the machine idea, we forget that we don't earn callings like we earn diplomas (by making no waves and sitting still for a few years). We don't earn callings at all. That I wasn't called to be an AP was no reflection on me (at least, I hope not); it just meant that God needed the people who were called to that position in that position. There is no regular schedule for life, in the church or out of it. People do not have to be missionaries at 19/21; People do not have to be married before their thirties.

The regularity of the machine makes it easy to comprehend and easy to use as a measuring stick; however, it isn't a measuring stick that God uses. He looks at the heart of people and makes decisions based on what he sees there; we look at the machine and decide how others are doing. The machine as measuring stick only matters to those who believe its regularity is the most important of all doctrines. God isn't to be found in that camp.

Of course, this may all be my opinion; I remain off the fast-track. At the moment, I am a nursery worker. I am happy with my calling and, I think, doing a good job at it. Maybe being a cog in the machine isn't so bad, after all.

Posted by John C.

Another Brick in the Wall

2006-03-04T00:00:00.000-08:00

Recently, a friend of mine had a very spiritual experience, not in a church, but in a martial arts (Aikido) studio. This person is going through a very trying time in his life and was looking for a way to “center” himself while he dealt with things. As I listened to him recount the experience, I heard him describe a joy that he had never felt before. He described his experience of feeling a connection and comforted by this newfound spirituality. But as I listened, it seemed that he gave full credit to the art of Aikido and the situation instead of himself. And from somewhere…somehow, I found myself advising this friend. I told him that while Aikido didn’t give him spirituality...it did allow him to find it in himself. It was the vessel, if you will, for finding his spirituality.

When I was active in the church, I never really saw the Mormon Machine image. I was part of the Mormon Machine and I relied on it. I went through the motions…held callings because they asked and because I felt like I should...received the Gospel in Action and Young Womanhood Recognition awards because it was expected of me… had a testimony of The Church because that’s what you did. I looked to the Mormon Machine for my spirituality because that’s how things were done. The Mormon Machine should have only been the vessel for my spirituality…not the basis for it.

I can stand here today (or, you know, sit here and type at my computer) and tell you that I’m so glad for the experiences in my life that have allowed me to find out who I really am and not rely on tradition, rules or The Mormon Machine to dictate my spirituality. I am on a continual quest for my own personal spiritual revelation that will, then, define what I believe or how I believe it. I’ve never denounced the Mormon religion and there is a possibility that my quest for personal revelation will lead me back that way. I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is me not questioning anything and following blindly. I’m not okay with me getting “sucked in” to the Mormon Machine instead of being a moving, working, thinking, feeling, individual part of that machine.

Posted by JP.

The Mormon Machine: It just doesn't work without guilt

2006-02-27T22:59:00.000-08:00

One of the things that outsiders who know anything about Mormonism find impressive is the degree to which things are organized. The hierarchy of the church, the manner in which responsibilities are assigned and carried out, and the way things operate perpetually is pretty amazing. In order for it all to work, it requires a deep, deep commitment from the members inclusive of consideration, and vast amounts of time and effort.

But the machine is only as good as the wheels, cogs and gears that keep it in perpetual motion. This is both to the advantage and disadvantage of the church. This is why I think that there is some validity in the claim that Mormons are "brainwashed."

Of course, don't think that the Mormon folk are literally hypnotized and forced to to anything. That's crazy. But the reason why the church works like it does is because Mormons are guilted and "holier than thou'd" into it.

Here are some examples from my motivation in my own experience with service in the church:

Calling: Ward Employment Specialist
I accepted this calling, even though I had no idea how to do it. I was actually unemployed at the time, had no idea how to get myself a job, or one for anyone else. I sent around sign up sheets for people who needed jobs or knew of jobs, out of obligation (i.e. guilt) , but I didn't actually help anyone find a job.

Calling: Visiting Teacher
I hated visiting teaching. I hated everything about it, but I did it faithfully and consistently, out of guilt. I hated visiting other people who I didn't really know or ever get to know. I hated being visited by people who came to my house out of obligation.

Calling: Education Counselor in Relief Society
I was called to this position because--wait for it--I was majoring in Education! So, I thought that I was hot stuff. I gave the other teachers feedback on their lessons and relished planning out the schedule of lessons. I worked so hard at this calling because I felt I'd finally been recognized as someone who was important by being called to the Relief Society presidency.

Calling: Stake Young Single Adult Activities Director
I received this calling because when I came back from BYU, I told my stake president I was worried about all of my friends who became inactive. Ironically, I went inactive while holding this calling. I did work my tail off for a year and a half, though, but it was more about me than about the people I was trying to serve. I wanted to do a better job than the person before me.

Besides proving that I am completely shallow, a sincere examination of my motivation for working at my callings shows that the work we do in the Mormon Machine isn't necessarily done for the "right" reason. It still gets done, though, so does it matter?

I think it does. And I think that if you look closer at your motivations for working at your callings that it will matter to you, too.

Posted by Kaycee.

The Children are not the Future

2006-02-24T07:14:00.000-08:00

I was going to write a post about my niece, Madison. She is 10-ish, homeschooled, highly intelligent, and, currently, sticking bugs in boxes for a museum. I caught a ride with her this morning. She carries a notebook around her everywhere in which she writes down discovered facts from children's books about animals, which she also always carries with her. While we waited for our ride this morning, she was idly teasing her cat with a spare telephone cord. I was struck by the beauty of the moment and I was determined to write about how much more focussed and in control of herself she is than I was at her age, about how the future is our hope.

The problem is that I don't believe that anymore, nor do I believe that the Book of Mormon teaches that. We have a standard definition of "hope" as "wishful thinking," nice when it comes through, not terribly surprising when it doesn't. We're not supposed to get our hopes up, but if we do, it is because we are still innocent or blissfully naive. Adulthood is apparently accompanied by the destruction of hope.

This is a crass, shallow form of hope. It is beneath grown people. How dare we blithely accept the desecration of our hope and then pin our hopes on children, who have hopes and dreams of their own. It is the replacement of hope with idol worship. We shouldn't worship our children, as they are just people like us. We would certainly prefer it if they were better than us, but there are no guarantees. If nothing else, finding our hope in others entails losing our hope in ourselves. It is not humanity for whom we must hope, it is ourselves.

In any case, what I understand to be true hope is not easily discarded. In fact, it appears to have quite a hold on a person. To quote Moroni:

Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God. (Ether 12:4)

I don't claim to be abounding with the hope sufficient to keep me anchored in all of life's storms, but it is a powerful idea. Much greater than "wishful thinking", at least.

In particular, I am drawn to the order of events here (these thing are not always presented in this order, but I find the order significant here). Hope follows faith. In fact, hope here appears to be much more closely akin to knowledge. Not intellectual either, but rather the sort of bone-deep, experiential knowledge that Paul got on the road to Damascus or Joseph Smith got in a New York wood. I don't know that similar experiences are necessary for the hope/knowledge; I do know that a similar certainty is. And it is promised to anyone who cares to try for it.

It is, perhaps, a peculiarity of Mormonism that, at times, it stops talking in metaphors. There is a God who knows us and wants to be known. In that, I take hope for me and for anyone else who wants such.

Posted by John C.

Some hope and some despair...

2006-02-23T17:53:00.000-08:00

We've all heard that hoary myth about how the Chinese word for crisis is a combination of "danger" and "opportunity." Even if it's not exactly true, it still sounds cool. My version is a little less profound. In Spanish, the verb "to hope" is the same word as "to wait." This seems apt to me; I have a hard time believing that hope is a virtue. Hope consists mainly of the lies we tell ourselves to get through the day. It's emotional lubrication.

Used in moderation, it's invaluable. When I used to have a job, I'd wake up each morning, dreading the grind of another day. I hoped that some day, I wouldn't have to get up and go to a job I hated. Sometimes our lies come true. But just the glimpse of this oasis was strong enough to get me out of bed and onto a train every morning.

The worst thing in this world is false hope. The paid programming television that promises drinking fish oil will cure your diseases or that they have cures that others don't want you to know about. If there is a hell, I'm confident it will populated almost entirely by snake oil salesmen and con artists.

As for me, I think I'll just wait. Things are bound to get better.

Posted by Ned Flanders.

All With Hope, All With Hope

2006-02-21T20:35:00.000-08:00

For those of you who read my personal blog you may or may not have noticed that I title each entry with a song lyric; and it's something I do here as well because it has served me well thus far. The lyric I chose for today's post is from a song called "Hand Me Downs" by my favorite group in the entire known universe, the Indigo Girls. The lines following the refrain of "All with hope, all with hope" are the lines that actually stuck with my the most from the first time I heard Amy Ray belting out her agnst riddled song. It goes like this: "All with hope, All with hope that emptiness brings fullness and loss of love brings wholeness to us all."

The reason I liked (and continue to like for that matter) those words are that it is the very sentiment I seem to carry around on my scarred and tattered heart. I have spent a lifetime hoping against hope that perhaps the things that were (or were not in some cases) happening to me would bring me the things I so lacked: fullness, wholness, faith in things unseen. I understood emptiness and loss of love, I so longed for the other side of it to know the heaviness of things instead of the terrible lightness that loneliness and loss seemed to leave in their wake. And so, my little mantra that I chanted to myself and had as the message that popped up everytime I turned my cell phone on was (and remains) All With Hope. It is not hope that has come by faith (Ether 12:4), but hope that has come because I could not live without it. Even in the darkest dark, I held out for some light. I wanted to believe that things could and would be different for me, that my life could and would be better and brighter and filled with the things I had always dreamed of. In a way, I think that is what hope really is: wanting to believe. I think hope is stronger than faith and in many ways far more powerful.

Posted by Sarah

Hope: Where my faith got lost

2006-02-20T17:36:00.000-08:00

I think "hope" is an integral part of gaining faith and/or knowledge of truth. My understanding is that it fits into a continuum, like this:

Recognition of a Possibility ---> Hope ---> Faith ---> Knowledge

Even though I don't have faith in God anymore, I still think that this is how gaining faith works.(Did I learn that in Sunday School? Probably.) If this is the case, then "hope" is the part that I'm stuck at. I'm agnostic, meaning that I've accepted the fact that I just don't know whether there's a God or not. But in that definition and in reality, I do recognize the possibility of a God.

What keeps me from the "hope" that there is a God? There are a few things... big things... unoriginal things... that everyone with faith has somehow overcome.

Why so are there so many religions and gods? If the others are " made up" why not "yours"?
Most religions have a religious text... and they can't all be "the one" correct one. They each have plenty of historical data to back them up as well.
Miracles are indistinguishable from coincidence, except that someone prayed for them. But there are plenty of prayers that don't get answered. And there are good things that happen that nobody prayed for.
The feeling that I used to think was the "Spirit" is the same feeling I've gotten at a touching movie or while reading a good book.

I'm not trying to make a case for not having faith in God, but these are the things that keep me from hoping that He/She/It is out there. There's too much that doesn't make sense to me.

Posted by Kaycee.

Is There a Reason?

2006-02-18T00:01:00.000-08:00

At moments in my life when everything is going wrong (or more likely, just not going my way) I have a way of saying, “Well…everything happens for a reason.” I somehow make myself believe that me having no control over a situation is supposed to happen. That in the grand scheme of things, it was meant to be. Somehow, my cure all for when bad (or unpleasant) things happen is to believe there is a plan…an idea of a plan. Even when tragedy strikes, I try to tell myself that it is supposed to happen like that. There must be a reason.

But is there? Really?

Is it faith or ignorance that protects my fragile heart when tragedy strikes and I seem to believe that what happened was “part of the plan?” Is it faith or ignorance that keeps my childlike belief that everything happens for a reason and that there is something to be gained by the circumstance?

Could there really be a reason one of my dearest friends lost a baby and her father so very unexpectedly in the span of one year? Is there an explainable reason that there are tsunamis and hurricanes that cause such destruction and devastation? Is there a good reason why there are children in this world that are tortured and abused?

Would finding out the reason for those things happening make it any easier to deal with? No, I would say not. Just though of thought of such pain and tragedy happening to someone for a planned out, orchestrated reason is just too much to handle.

It’s just way too much to comprehend.

Posted by JP.

A loss

2006-02-17T06:21:00.000-08:00

I had a friend named Chad Parker. When he was in his mid-teens, he was diagnosed with having a brain tumor. It spread like a hand around the right side of his brain. His doctor told him that without surgery, he would die. The surgery was successful, but Chad lost all hearing in his right ear and had a big hole in his skull (having opted out of the proverbial metal plate).

Chad served a mission in Russia; I met him there first as he was being shipped out to the city of Ekaterinburg. He passed each other in the office of the mission. I was going to meet the mission president, the kindest, most rational, most compassionate Christian I have ever known. He was going to a city with a big tower in the middle of town that lets people know when the atmospheric radiation in the town is too great and, therefore, the schools are closed.

Chad's mission president was transferred in from Spain. He was, by all accounts, a big fat jerk (at least compared to our mission president). He was hard on his missionaries and on the members. Nobody apparently liked him (and his wife was universally hated). He never learned Russian. Chad became an AP and clearly considered the man arrogant and self-absorbed. Rumor had it that back in Spain, his mission had been riddled with sexual immorality and the president apparently saw missionary sexual conspiracies everywhere. Nonetheless, Chad left the mission field with a testimony of that man's divine calling because, idiot that he was, he was inspired when necessary.

I really got to know Chad when we moved in together at BYU. I moved in just after his girlfriend (another friend of mine) had broken up with him. Prior to this, Chad had come down with appendictis. It had been misdiagnosed twice and, as a result, his appendix ruptured prior to his arrival at the hospital. Chad was able, through a lawsuit, to get the hospital who misdiagnosed him to pay his hopsital bills, but he had to pay his lawyer's fee, which sucked up most of his resources. Just prior to that, he had been praying about this girl in the temple and had received a strong confirmation that she was "the one." She broke up with him shortly after he got out of the hospital.

A few months later, Chad came to discover that the original surgery on his tumor was unnecessary. The tumor had been benign and and had stopped growing before his original surgery. He had lost the hearing in his right ear and a large chunk of his skull due to a misdiagnosis. He had grappled with his own death as a teenager as a result of a doctor's error and nothing more.

In the midst of all of this, Chad and I were talking one day. He said (paraphrasing through dim memory), "The church tells me that I am supposed to grow or to learn from trials. That is absolute crap. I haven't learned a single thing from all of this, except to not trust doctors. I'm not a better person because of this. I'm not any more humble or holy. I haven't been refined; I've been crapped upon."

I suppose that I could have pointed out that he had survived, that he had friends and family who loved him, that the tumor had stopped growing (it was never entirely removed), that the surgery hadn't resulted in brain damage. But, really, what does any of that matter? If you are in pain, you are in pain. One doesn't ameliorate pain by pointing out the sky is still blue or that bunnies continue to hop. All things that don't deal directly with the pain are incidental and, frankly, arrogant. "My wisdom should reduce your feelings of abuse" is not the posture of a humble person.

To be honest, I don't know what I did. I probably commiserated and tried to say something funny (humor as emotional defense). Chad hurt, blamed human error, and moved on.

Tragedy, like most mortal experience, has no meaning for us beyond what we give it. God's motivations usually remain inscrutable and, for whatever reason, if we don't choose to see his hand in some event, random chance is the fallback position for causation. Searching for the motivations behind tragedy may be fruitless in any case, like debating the problems of the Weimar Republic in 1940. Tragedy must be dealt with immediately because the pain and the sorrow are immediate.

For me, the greatest tragedy in all of this is that I have lost touch with my friend. There was a time when I valued no-one else's opinion higher. However, as I married, I became super self-involved and lost touch. We ran into each other occasionally, but we stopped hanging out. Then he got married and moved away. Last I heard, he was in law school. In my ending to his story, he spends the rest of his life suing incompetent doctors. I would like to know his and feel the lack every day.

I miss my friend.

Posted by John C.

Ned's Wager

2006-02-16T01:41:00.000-08:00

One of the hardest things about losing your faith is adjusting yourself to your new world. A lot of the old assumptions no longer hold true, and it can be quite disorienting.

For example, being a know-it-all type person, I've always found comfort in thinking that all of life's mysteries would be revealed to us after death. We'd know who shot JFK, which sibling tattled on us, and whether Ben Roethlisburger really broke the plane of the goal line. But if there is no God, there are no answers. The secrets of our world have passed into oblivion, and will never be known. There is something depressing about that. I'll never be able to read the lost plays of Sophocles or know just what burned up in the library at Alexandria. The Dark Ages will always be dark. It's stupid and geeky, I know, but oh how I wish there was an absolute knowable truth.

The worst thing about my new world is the lack of justice. There is no reward for good deeds or suffering, and there is no penalty for evil. Victims of tragedy have that tragedy multiplied several times over by the fact that they will never receive justice or comfort, just oblivion. The tragedy is that no one will ever make up the difference for all our wrongs. We have to do the best we can on our own, because no magical accountant can come and level our balance sheets.

For this reason, I think I am more attuned to the everyday tragedies since the loss of my faith. It is far too easy to rationalize things away, saying, "God will fix everything in the end." Some people may find hope in an eternal perspective, but I find it repellant. Repellant because people are risking their real present happiness for an amorphous and uncertain future. I respect people who have faith; I find it difficult to accord the same feeling to those who are certain.

I think it is almost arrogant, this feeling that I know that everything will work out in the end, so be quiet and stop complaining. This is an attitude that can turn people off of religion in general. I am 99% certain of my point-of-view and you are 99% certain of yours. One of us is wrong. It could be me. I doubt it, but it could be. It kills me when people are forced to sacrifice their happiness for blithe assurances of the eternities. One of the doctrines I dislike most is that this life is just a short interval in our eternal progression. The implication is that this life is just a burden to be borne, one long temptation to be avoided. Keep your head down and don't look to the sides, or you'll screw up not just your life, but your eternities. How noxious an idea! Turning our brief, miraculous consciousness into a degradation and humiliation to be endured.

To me that is real tragedy. To live your life in constant fear of destroying your eternity. I refuse to believe it. Everyone is familiar with Pascal's Wager. It goes, if I believe in God and he exists, then I will be rewarded. If I believe and he doesn't exist, I won't have lost anything, so I might as well believe.

I propose Ned's Wager: If we warp our lives to conform to what we perceive to be God's will and we're wrong, and he doesn't exist, then we've squandered our entire life. Our complete eternity if you will.

If I am wrong, and an all-powerful God does exist, then he has some questions to answer. I can't believe that he will punish me for being sincere, for being concerned about others' and my happiness.

I will not waste my time on things that make me unhappy. That's a gamble I'm willing to make.

Posted by Ned Flanders.

Tragedy: Why Not You, Why Not Me

2006-02-15T15:50:00.000-08:00

I don’t have much to share in the way of personal tragedy. I just don’t feel like sharing some of those things right now (plus, you wouldn’t want to be here all day, would you?). However, allow me to share with you a time (one of many, I assure you…) when I was reprimanded by…or er, taught a lesson by the Spirit.

During my freshman year at Rick’s College (now BYU-Idaho) I often crossed paths with a young man of about 21 who, through what I assumed to be a birth defect or degenerative disease, walked with crutches on twisted legs. Because Rick’s College was small, we had a couple of large group classes together where I learned that he was a returned missionary.

I remember one early, dark winter morning, trudging up the hill toward campus and seeing this young man making his way to campus also. As I watched him struggle along the eternally frozen streets, amazed at his ability to stay up-right, several thoughts crossed my mind:

“Why does he live so far from campus? Why doesn’t he have a motorized wheel chair? I wonder if he’s ever had a girlfriend…I wonder if he’ll ever get married. I wonder what kind of girl would date him. I…”

And then what I assume to be the Holy Ghost butted in with a very clear redirection of my thoughts…

“Well why not YOU?! Are you too good to look beyond his disability to get to know him and chance falling in love with him?!”

I felt stunned. I did think I was too good to date someone like him. All I could see was someone who was living with a tragedy, a difficult physical disability, while I was walking around with a tragic spiritual disability. What if that was the path Heavenly Father had in mind for me? What if I ignored promptings that would lead me to an incredibly happy and fulfilling life with a wonderful human being?

So this leads me to think, why not me when something bad happens. Bad things happen all the time. Am I too good to avoid tragedy in life?

One of my young women shared with me an experience she had when her divorced, going-to-school, trying-to-raise-three-kids-alone mother sat in the car with tears in her eyes and asked in all honesty, almost as a prayer, “Did I choose this life?”

Probably not. I doubt she sat in heaven and chose to have an unfaithful, dead beat husband who would leave her without any of thought of taking care of her or his children. Some tragedies are the result of people making really bad decisions that have detrimental effects upon the innocent. This is why we have commandments and the Golden Rule, to avoid unnecessary tragedy…and believe me, some tragedies in life are UNNECCESSARY and could have been avoided.

So I try not to take things personally. I don’t ask why me. I don’t even ask what God wants me to learn from this. That would make it too, fate-ful, too planned…I don’t think God has worked that way in my life, at least I don’t think it’s a healthy way for me to perceive his plan. I usually try to decipher what I CAN learn from what’s going on. Although, to be honest, that usually only happens once some time has passed, once the tragedy is over, once I’ve healed or regrouped or whatever… I can only hope that during the tragedy, I am making the right choices; that I am doing what Heavenly Father would want me to do to grow the most, learn the most, or get the most out of a difficult situation.

Posted by Carrie Ann

Wait In The Fire

2006-02-14T10:58:00.000-08:00

I can't tell you how many times the words, "This is the tragedy of my life" have passed my lips. It's one of my favorite phrases, and I use it more than I probably should. The truth is, my life has known little actual tragedy. Sure, I've had death in my family, but now my husband is a funeral director, and he comes home and tells me stories of REAL tragedy. He tells me about people who aren't sure if they will ever see their loved ones again, who don't know how to deal with the sudden loss of someone they love, who have nothing to cling to. I feel so deeply for these people that often I don't let Dustin finish his story. I don't let him tell me about the tragedies, because I can't stomach that kind of pain.

It is for similar reasons that I don't watch the news. I can't handle real life tragedy broadcasted to my living room. There is a sadness that seeps into my skin from the tales of woe and heartache of strangers, and honestly, there are so many people I know and love who must struggle with their own heartache, I can't handle the burden of strangers, it is too much for me.

Dustin and I were on our honeymoon when Hurricane Katrina hit. We had no idea it had even happened until we returned home and witnessed the aftermath of it all in the papers and on every television channel and every radio program. One of my bridesmaids and dearest friends, Tifferbob, was living in Mississipi at the time, and because she was here for my wedding, she was stuck. She couldn't get back to her husband for weeks. Finally, she was able to get a flight into Texas and her husband drove for 10 hours to pick her up. Once electricity and phones were restored she started sending me emails about the people that had shown up to help, the people who had looked this tragedy in the eye and realized they could do something to make it less of one. She talked about the good and the bad of that time, and I sat in my warm dry home thousands of miles away and lapped up her words of hope. She was living in the midst of catastrophic tragedy, and throught it all she found something deeper than the pain of destroyed homes, a husband out of work, neighbors who had died. She found something to take her through that tragedy and on with the rest of her life. Tiff thanks her faith for getting her through, and I find so much in that statement. She credits God for getting her through the two days she didn't hear from her husband. I can't tell you how impressed I am with her attitude.

I am somewhat of the opposite of Tiff. When I experiance something I think of as a personal tragedy I weep, wail, curse and beg the question what have I done to deserve this. I don't often see the fact that I'm growing, being pulled and stretched, being molded into something greater than I was before. It is painfully difficult for me to see that any good at all could come from something that hurts so much, or interfers in the plans I had laid. I've said it before and I will say it again, but I do NOT handle difficulty with much grace. I am slow to be grateful for the good, I tend to focus on the tragedy and not on the things that are going right. I hope that I am changing from this little by little. I am learning to be more graceful and grateful. I am learning about the silver lining - it's there, you just have to brave enough to look for it.

I'm grateful for the examples I have in my life of people who are graceful under fire. They make me want to be better when the tragedies of my life happen, they make my want to possess what they have: grace.

Posted by Sarah

Tragedy

2006-02-09T22:26:00.000-08:00

I've read "When Bad Things Happen to Good People." I keep it on hand in case tragedy strikes too close to home. When I see others coping with tragic circumstances (like Hurricane Katrina victims or my friend whose parents are both undergoing chemotherapy) I'm empathetic and I try to do something (donate, listen). I often wonder, though, how tragedy would affect my faith in God.

I've heard so many times about people who found faith when faced with challenges or tragedy. After I lost my faith in God, I came to find that life was easier for me without religion in my life. I am free of many of the stresses (from striving for the impossibility of perfection to feeling guilty if I had a snack on the wrong Sunday) that detracted from my overall mental and physical health. I didn't stop believing in God so that I could relax, it just worked out that way.

But I wonder and worry that the opposite could be true. Would I, in the face of tragedy, find that I needed faith and try to regain it? Would I be able to cope with losing a loved one or losing physical abilities without faith to keep me afloat?

It's impossible to say. I would like to categorically say "no" because if I thought I could have faith again, then I should be trying to regain it now instead of living my life without it. However, I find that I can't say "no" because I've been proved wrong before. If you would have asked me when I was 20 if I would have ever left the church, I'd have called you "crazy" for asking. But I did.

So, would tragedy propel me back to faith? I don't think so, but I'm pretty sure it's what my mom prays for every single night.

Posted by Kaycee.

Redirection Resurrection

2006-02-09T22:17:00.000-08:00

Good news... We're not dead!

Contrary to comments listed on the last post (from an embarrassing 6 weeks ago), we are alive, well, and recommitted to our beloved Various Stages of Mormondom.

Our plan to post "whenever" did not motivate us as we thought it would, so we are returning to our former method of assigned days and topics. We have made a change, though. Formerly, our topics were very specific and by the end of the week, some writers felt that they were sounding like a broken record. From now on, our weekly topics will be words or short phrases on which a writer could take any number of approaches. We will begin anew on Monday.

We hope that this will make writing more fun, reading more interesting, and creativity ever flowing.

We realize that we have a unique voice and position in the "Blogosphere" and don't want that to disappear. Thanks for sticking with us.

Always Winter, Never Christmas

2005-12-25T04:37:00.000-08:00

The title of this post is Narnian, a description of the world as it was when in the grip of the White Witch. Coincidentally, Dante saw the lowest circle of Hell as equally cold and inert, with Satan eternally gnawing on the trapped souls frozen into his maw. Hardly a satisfying meal.

The description, to my mind, is apt, if not for the dead, then for the living. When I am wracked with sin or tormented by my failings, static is how I feel. That I will never change, that I cannot change. There is no hope, no future, only an everlasting present of pain, sorrow, disappointment, despair, anger, bitterness, etc. In these moments, I often find that, although I rationally know that they can't go on forever, I can't really believe that. I am stuck in a pattern of sin, because it is all that I know how to do, all I can do. I am inert.

Winter is my least favorite of the seasons (perhaps because I grew up in Florida). While I enjoy snowfall as much as anyone (I had a branch president on my mission tell me that "winter covers all our sins in white"), eventually the vantage point changes to a miasma of dirt, grime, ice, and soot. There is no hidden sin here as the white brings out all the spotty rotten color of the world and it is all a dull-gray muddy brown. There is no joy here.

And then we get Christmas. I know some people complain because Christ very probably wasn't born on Christmas and that we are actually celebrating a pagan holiday. I know that some people believe that Christian aspects of of Christmas are being swallowed up in the consumerism of our national day of spending. But I don't buy it.

So long as Christmas exists, then here is hope, joy, and peace in the midst of despair. A reason to smile on a dark, dreary plain. A warm spark in the twilight, frozen world wherein our dirt and filth is shown back to us in high contrast. It gives us light in the midst of the darkest part of our year.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was Rabbit Hill. Naturally, I read its sequel, The Tough Winter. I hated it. The nice bunnies and other denizens of Rabbit Hill were being put through such a tough time and I couldn't understand why. In the midst of it came Christmas. Some kind soul laid out a feast for the starving denizens of Rabbit Hill, who hadn't eaten for so long.

Christmas is our feast, a reminder of the true bread and the true water that came down to feed us. It is a gift, given us by kind caretakers and good providers. In the wake of the recent movie, many critics have dryly noted that Father Christmas provides the Pevensies with weapons. But Christmas is a weapon, an opportunity to fight back at the dark that envelops us and gain a little breathing room that can last until the coming of spring, signalled by the commemoration of the death of He whose birth we celebrate today. It is appropriate, perhaps necessary, that the winter of our discontent be broken midway by a reminder of He who broke its back.

I know that we are all at different stages in our spiritual lives, but I get the impression that we are all believers. Please, use Christmas as a moment to celebrate that which is good and useful in the world and revel in the knowledge that winter, in life as in Narnia, will eventually end and the sun and flowers will shine upon us again.

Posted by John C.

What Would An Angel Say, The Devil Wants To Know

2005-12-14T09:33:00.000-08:00

I had an experience on Sunday that once again makes me wonder just where my place in Mormonism is. For the days since I have pondered where I belong in this religion, where my thoughts and feelings and convictions fit in. I have wondered about a lot of things, I have in no way questioned my faith in Jesus Christ, but I have questioned my faith in the Mormon Machine.

On Sunday I attended church solo as my husband works every other weekend and can’t attend our 9am meeting block with me. Sacrament meeting was a missionary farewell that felt more like “This is Your Life” instead of an hour of worship. I tried really hard to put myself in the shoes of that mother who was sending her son off (to where I don’t know because him actually serving a mission was never mentioned, she was too busy talking about him being born prematurely) to serve the Lord for 24 months and how I would feel if it were me. That got me through the meeting, but honestly, my spiritual tank has been dangerously close to empty as of late. Working 12 hours a day and never seeing my husband except for when I kick him out of bed for snoring and am waking him up before I leave for the day has worn me down, and I needed to be filled, I needed to be replenished. It wasn’t happening. So, I made my way to Sunday School with the hope that there would be a teacher who would provide the class with a catalyst for a spiritual discussion that would get me feeling the way I wanted to feel, and was currently not. I needed spiritual stimulation! Having been a gospel doctrine teacher for 8 years, I was foolish enough to believe that perhaps that class would have been the place to find it. No such luck.

I’m not sure what the actual lesson title was, but the class instructor wrote “THE FAMILY IS UNDER ATTACK!” on the board and then proceeded to make a list of all the ills of the world that are attacking the family: the government, abortion, gays, the media, selfishness and then (ironically) pride. People in the class then took turns judging groups of people they probably haven’t had all that much interaction with and demonizing what to me felt like anyone who wasn’t Mormon. Well, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. I raised my hand and proceeded to word vomit on the whole class. I expressed my belief that maintaining a strong family unit was not unique to Mormonism, that we were not the only religion in Christianity or otherwise that took HUGE steps to help families stay together, and to stay strong. I also expressed my belief that by demonizing other groups of people we were doing nothing but falling prey to the evil pride we have preached so much against. I explained that this coloring of people as evil and unclean and a burden on a society that if it were ours alone would be without flaw did nothing but drive the mot deeper into our own eyes as we are so feverishly busy trying to get the beam out of everyone else’s. I expressed my opinion that we should keep our opinions about abortion to ourselves, that by saying someone is no good because they have experienced abortion or thought about it or support a woman’s right to choose an abortion was one of the most asinine, self righteous things I had ever heard. I said that we are so easy offended when people teach against Mormonism, when we are protested against at conference or when a temple is going up, but we are more than happy to sit in this class and do the EXACT SAME THING to people outside out faith. And then was when I started to cry a little.

Needless to say, there was what I like to call a “stunned silence” for a little bit. And then the teacher did what I probably would have done if I were teaching and said something along the lines of, “we’re not judging anyone.” Which, you know, was just a big fat lie. So, I sat there through the rest of the class silent (and that will probably be the way I sit through church for the rest of my life) and FLED as soon as the closing prayer was said.

Here’s my bright spot in all this. A little 65 year old sister followed me out and stopped me. She then thanked me for my candor, thanked me for saying some of the things she’d been thinking. She talked to me for a long time. Told me of growing up in Utah, hating the way people acted there, making her own waves. (In 1977 she told a relief society that she would rather her daughter marry a black man who would honor the priesthood if he could hold it than a blonde haired blue eyed returned missionary who didn’t honor that priesthood he had been blessed with. “You should have heard the gasps!” she told me.) It was good to talk to her. It was good to tell her, “Sometimes I think I’m just WAY to liberal to be Mormon!” and have her say, “I’ve felt that way for a long time.”

That night, I finally told my husband what had happened, and then I started the whole crying thing again. I told him about the feelings in my heart of not belonging, of feeling like I can’t speak my mind, that my thoughts and feelings are looked down on and I should be ashamed of how I feel. “Why did you marry me when I’m like this? Why did you marry someone who doesn’t belong anywhere?” He smiled that smile that he does, the one that makes me think he really does know everything sometimes, and said, “I married you because you belong with me. I married you because I love the way you think and I believe you can do nothing but good by sharing those thoughts.”

I still don’t know how I feel about what happened on the Sabbath. I don’t know how I will be received when I return to church this Sunday. What I do know is there has to be a place for me. There has to be a reason for my believing in this for so long, even when it would have been so much easier for me to simply walk away. But where is there room for a pro-choice, gay loving, liberal to the core brown girl like me in Mormonism?

Posted by Sarah Marinara

Worth Mentioning

2005-12-12T12:24:00.000-08:00

This isn’t my post to write, but when has that ever stopped me?

I wanted to expound a bit on the comment I made on John C.’s post, because it is worth talking about…and would maybe spark a comment or two on other mainstream Mormon musicians (Michael McLean does not count).

Long story short, Arthur “Killer” Kane was a member of one of the first bands to be classified as “punk rock”, The New York Dolls, a band that was absolutely influential to later bands and musicians such as The Clash, Iggy Pop, and The Ramones. The New York Dolls wore make-up and huge hair and women’s clothing. Their then rebellious and unusual look would later influence a whole generation of “hair bands”.

The Dolls were into the typical rocker things: music, sex, and drugs. In fact, several of the original and replacement members are dead due to drugs, and only David Johansson, a.k.a. Buster Poindexter, ever had a semblance of a career after the break up of the band.

Some years after the breakup, Arthur, living in LA broke and addicted, saw an add in the TV Guide for a free Book of Mormon and the rest is history…a history documented in a recently released film called “New York Doll” by Greg Whitely, an LA film student who met Arthur through his home teachers.

Arthur agreed to be filmed and to tell his story, which at a glance seems sort of quaint: former punk-band-bass-player turned family-history-center-worker Mormon. Well…the filming coincided with some fairly amazing opportunities for Arthur, which I will not discuss …to entice you to see it for yourself.

The point here is that Arthur, a slightly burned out, middle-aged, humble, loner, is a sincere, believing, practicing Mormon. The film is not too heavy on the Mormony stuff, I think Greg Whitely handled all of that really well, but we get to see something real, and really amazing.

Highlights:

Arthur talking about how it’s a lot harder now to have a relationship these days; while he fully appreciates the good old days of…and I quote… “wham-bam-thank you m’am” he now knows that that is not appropriate behavior.

The little old ladies in the Family History Center at the LA temple where Arthur works giggling like groupies discussing the fact that they can’t imagine Arthur in a rock and roll band.

The moment in rehearsal when the estranged David Johansson arrives late and just picks up the mike and starts singing “He Don’t Come Around Anymore” as if nothing had happened for the last 30 years.

Arthur giving the back stage prayer with the reunited Dolls where he says…and again I quote… “and Heavenly Father, please bless that the New York Dolls play well, and that the audience has a really good time…”

David Johansson singing “Come, Come Ye Saints” and “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief”.

If this film wasn’t released in a theater near you, then seek it out at Net-Flicks or something. Seriously. I heard that a friend of a friend left the screening of the film hosted by the local NPR station saying, “Now THAT’S how I want my religion represented in the media.” And I say “Amen” to that.

Thinking of movie stars versus rock stars: who has the more difficult time? I’m thinking Aaron Eckhart vs. Brandon Flowers. While Brandon (of the “Killers”) admits that he’s a non-practicing Mormon without malice, does an actor have an easier time, or an excuse to justify? Discuss…

Posted by Carrie Ann

Out of the worst books...

2005-12-09T09:06:00.000-08:00

On my mission, if someone knew something about Mormonism (before they met the missionaries) it was because they read one book: A Study in Scarlet, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It is a Sherlock Holmes mystery that relies upon the literary trope of the vile Mormon, who tricks or abducts innocent British women into polygamous Western slavery. This book did more to poison general public opinion toward the Church than anything else (and this was in a country that was generally pretty intolerant to outsiders).

Of course, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had likely never met a Mormon and didn't actually know anything about them that wasn't based on hearsay. The way the community is described in the book isn't meant to reflect reality; it is meant to provide an appropriately morally repugnant adversary for Holmes to overcome to the delight of his Victorian readers. The Evil Mormon as a stock character.

In Robert Heinlein's sci-fi novel, The Sixth Column (aka The Day After Tomorrow), Heinlein comments favorably on Mormons. He basically says that they are good practical people who are religious, but who are also kind of opportunistic (religiously speaking) and, therefore, perfect for the heroes plan (I'll track down the exact quote later today). So, Heinlein believes that Mormons are basically good, but rather mercenary in how they come about their religious beliefs.

Far be it from me to malign either Heinlein or Doyle, but have you noticed how Mormons are often portrayed in mainstream media. Does it strike you that anyone ever does a good job? This post is an attempt to solicit the best and the worst examples of the portrayal of Mormons by non-Mormons. What comes to mind?

Posted by John C.

Shaking it Up

2005-12-06T17:43:00.000-08:00

We're changing the format here at Various Stages. After nearly a year of all posting on one topic per week, we've decided that we need a change. Perhaps our creativity was stifled or perhaps it was just too much of all one thing at a time, but some of our authors were becoming complacent because of or overburdened by the once per week requirement.

We've decided to follow the path that the majority of group blogs take... just post when you want, about what you want... so long as it's Mormon-relevant.

Hopefully, this next stage makes what we write more interesting and thought provoking. And maybe... just maybe... I'll get around to fixing our formatting issues.

Thanks for reading.

Baptism by proxy

2005-12-03T21:30:00.000-08:00

As I stated in my previous post about temples, baptisms for the dead are perhaps the only facet of temple work that I don't have an issue with. It neatly solves the problem all religions face: what to do about the billions of people that fall outside their belief system. The main problem is that we often do such a lousy job of explaining what exactly it is. "Baptisms by proxy" is, to me at least, extremely unclear and leads to the "you baptize corpses?" kind of questions.

The physical nature of the baptisms for the dead is also appealing to me. I don't remember my own baptism, so the only memory I can refer back to is the experience of being baptized for other people. The jacuzzi-temperature water and fancy baptistery of the temple are probably more pleasant than the circumstances of my actual baptism anyway.

With the billions of people who have lived and died without a trace (and continue to do so), I don't think we're making much of a dent in the work to be done. And I think it would be petty to complain about the massive amounts of duplication and ambiguity in the work that we actually do (I remember being baptized for 6 guys named Wolfgang, with no last name). For these reasons, I think these baptisms are for the living, not the dead. For me, that's good enough.

Dem Bones

2005-12-02T12:17:00.000-08:00

Terryl Givens pointed out in his book, By the Hand of Mormon, that what was the most shocking thing about Joseph Smith's claims was not the visions he experienced, as many people in that period had visions (and many still do). Rather, it was his insistence on a physical set of plates given him by a physical angel who was the servant of a physical God. The, presumably, empirical reality of his claims are what set him apart from other religious claimants of the same period.

I find the physical aspects of the church reassuring. It reminds us that we are dealing with a God who has experienced blood, sweat, dust, and tears. Moreso, it reminds us that we have a God who takes these things and uses them. One of the more profound scriptures (to my understanding) is found in Moses chapter 6:59-60:

59 That by reason of transgression cometh the fall, which fall bringeth death, and inasmuch as ye were born into the world by water, and blood, and the spirit, which I have made, and so became of dust a living soul, even so ye must be born again into the kingdom of heaven, of water, and of the Spirit, and be cleansed by blood, even the blood of mine Only Begotten; that ye might be sanctified from all sin, and enjoy the words of eternal life in this world, and eternal life in the world to come, even immortal glory;

60 For by the water ye keep the commandment; by the Spirit ye are justified, and by the blood ye are sanctified;

Why is this a powerful scripture for me? To be honest, I don't entirely know. But I know that it has something to do with the manner in which it combines the physical and the spiritual into an explanation of at least two acts wherein the temporal and eternals planes connect.

One of these acts is baptism, a form of which is practiced in the temples. For some reason, whether or not we enter a pool of water in a certain way at a certain time has some effect on our eternal standing. It is a completely arbitrary standard, a symbol made important by its importance, not for its ability to explain anything. It is such an odd little thing for the living, one wonders why people balk at doing it for the dead.

The biggest question regarding baptism for the dead is the issue of free will. Mormons cheat when they answer this. They say that acceptance of the gospel is entirely up to the dead person. While this may be technically true, I am not sure that Mormons believe that the dead will reject the offered ordinance. We assume that they will have some sort of knowledge that will make it clear to them what to do. This may or may not be true (our ignorance of the afterlife is far exceeded by our ability to discuss it). In any case, this is what appears to be driving the persistent baptisms for holocaust victims, Adolf Hitler, and Elvis. I believe the idea is that it costs nothing to the person doing the genealogy work to be baptized and it may help those poor departed souls. Any activity that allows us to pat ourselves on the back, especially while ignoring the offended cries of the ignorant gentiles who don't really understand what we are trying to do, makes me suspicious. I do not mean to say that temple work is bad or inherently prideful (I believe the exact opposite of that actually). Rather, I worry about the pride inherent in using the gifts, ordinances, and houses of God in a way that seems designed to hurt others (especially when the Brethren have asked us to stop).

All temple work (all ordinances, really) are a sublime combination of the earthly and the heavenly for me and I love them for it. Ritual and Mystery cause me to rely less on my own understanding and more on God's. I don't believe that to ever be a bad thing.

Just One More Thing to Feel Confused About

2005-12-01T16:52:00.000-08:00

There are many things about the gospel that are hard for me to fathom. To be perfectly honest, I could drive myself insane just thinking about it all. Even after having wonderful experiences from the youth temple trips and doing baptisms for the dead, there really are so many unanswered questions that I have.

Two of Kaycee’s questions are similar to my own. Even during temple trips, I was so curious and maybe even a little confused at how all those names just “appear” in the temple. This logically leads to the next question of those people that have no written record of their birth, death, etc. Its mind boggling…and it’s a tad weird to think about.

I’m sure that my feelings of confusion and curiosity have a bit to do with not being active in the church...even if I had those feelings before. I think the difference before was that the faith that I had in the process overpowered the feelings of confusion or curiosity. It’s not that I’ve given up the faith, really…it’s just not as “present” as it used to be. When you’re not sure about your faith, it makes it pretty hard to be sure about things like baptisms for the dead.

Do you really baptize corpses?

2005-11-30T10:37:00.000-08:00

I can't tell you how many times people who aren't Mormon have brought up "baptisms for the dead" to me. It is one of the most commonly misunderstood and distrusted practices in the LDS religion.

I have participated in performing baptisms for the dead a few points about it that I don't understand or trust, either. Here'are the highlights of my issues:

1) Why physical baptism?
I understand that baptism is symbolic of rebirth and I can certainly see why people who have chosen to follow Christ are baptized-metaphorically reborn--as members of His church. That makes sense. What I don't get is why people who are dead, spirits, would be REQUIRED to have the same physical rebirth. Since they would have accepted Christ in the after-life, then shouldn't there be a different symbolic (or even a spiritual version of the same) gesture for them?

2) Why baptize people when they may not want it?
If someone is baptized and they don't accept Christ in the afterlife, then what's the point? It's a huge waste of time and energy. Shouldn't there be some sort of revelation about who wants it in the afterlife and who doesn't?

3) What about people of whom there is no written record?
I'm sure that the immigration records for Ellis Island and the US Census from 1880 are very useful for finding some people who didn't get baptized in this life, but there are no records for the majority of people who have ever lived. There aren't even written records for everyone who is living now! Countries in southeast Asia and the Pacific islands didn't even have a written language until recently. There is just no possible way to know the names of every person over the age of 8 for all time. That's just unfair.

Okay, so I don't have the same misunderstandings that some people do about baptisms for the dead (as in "Do they really baptize corpses?") but like I said... there's things that I don't get either. These are questions that never recieved satisfactory answers while I was an active member and they still bug me.

Covering Your Bases

2005-11-28T08:28:00.000-08:00

"Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead. If the dead rise not at all? Why are they then baptized for the dead?” 1 Corinthians 15:29

Mormons believe in vicarious service for others; meaning that under certain circumstances, we believe we can perform necessary ordinances by proxy in the name and place of other people.

A lot of other people don’t think this is possible. But then the Atonement of Jesus Christ was a vicarious service…so…

And apparently, some people in Corinth were having a problem understanding the resurrection, so Paul used the principle of baptism for the dead to prove the point that if we were going to live again (resurrection) we must be baptized.

Baptism for the dead was not practiced before Christ’s earthly ministry. During the three days between his death and resurrection, he organized his kingdom in the spirit world so that this work could be done. (Doctrine & Covenants 124)

This is why Mormons are interested in genealogy. We find out who our dead relatives were so that we can submit their names to the temple to have their earthly ordinances performed for them. These ancestors, waiting in the spirit world for resurrection, can decide whether or not to accept the ordinances and the Gospel in general. I’m not sure how this works, because to me it would seem really easy to die and say, “Oh, yeah, I totally would have been a believer if I hadn’t lived in China during the Ming dynasty.” But, I don’t think it’s that simple; plus, God is the great judge…he knows….he knows everything.

This practice of submitting names can get controversial. Someone can check my facts, but I think that if the person is not directly related to you they have to have been dead for quite a while…50 years? And if they are related to you, there are certain people (living relatives) whose permission you must obtain to submit their names. But…in recent years, as lists of victims of certain heinous crimes, the holocaust specifically, have become public, there has been an outcry of resistance from various groups of survivors and memory preserving foundations against submitting victims’ names to the temples. So, out of respect (and the threat of legal action), the church has officially, banned the submission of holocaust victims’ names.

As I read articles and listen to radio shows on this topic, the factions seem to be pretty clear cut: sure, go ahead…I don’t believe in your religion anyway, so whatever floats your boat you crazy Mormons… and NO WAY will I allow you to baptize me or any member of your family into your crack pot religion…how condescending …how dare you even presume such a thing.

But as my husband likes to say, “Sure, go ahead. I like to cover all my bases…” So if there are any other religions out there who do vicarious-proxy work for the dead, as soon as Todd goes I’ll let you know.

The Ensign and the Red-faced Minister

2005-11-20T21:17:00.000-08:00

Like several other denominations, our church publishes media for its members worldwide. Here’s a list of magazines from the church website and my ratings from one to four stars:

“The Ensign is an English-language magazine for adults. It contains the First Presidency Message and other words of latter-day prophets. It also includes the Visiting Teaching Message, personal experiences and testimonies of members, curriculum support material, and other articles to strengthen members and help them in their callings.”

Rating: 3 ½ I would totally give the Ensign four stars seeing as how it carries the words of the prophet and the apostles, but it’s the personal experiences and the testimonies that make me get choked up every time…even if they are totally dumb…like when I watch “Mr. Krueger’s Christmas”…and I hate that feeling of a lump in my throat or ruining my make-up so I just read the First Presidency’s and the Visiting Teacher’s messages.

“The New Era is an English-language magazine for youth ages 12-18, their parents and families, and their leaders and teachers. It contains the words of the latter-day prophets and many testimonies and experiences of youth.”

Rating: 3 ½ Again, I resent the manipulation of the choke-up factor…I’m a softy who chokes up at parades (choking up is not crying). While the Church publications can sometimes have controversial articles (the great article about motherhood in a recent Ensign only showed photos of moms doing laundry and other mundane chores with their impressionable daughters. Where was the scrap-booking and other important life lessons?) I give props to the editors who put two FEMALE missionaries on the cover of the New Era last month. Can I give a shout out to my sistahs? And occasionally, in the Q & A section, some good questions get asked, and then get answered by some fairly self-righteous Laurel trying to get her Young Womanhood Medallion.

“The Friend is an English-language magazine for children, their parents and families, and their leaders and teachers. It contains the words of the latter-day prophets and other material that supports the annual Primary theme and sharing time.”

Rating: 4 stars I loved the Friend when I was of Friend appreciating age (now). Being raised in the “mission field” I loved seeing the page showing kids from all over the world (and by the world I mean mostly Bountiful) and knowing their interests. I faithfully looked for myself on that page each month thinking that they just randomly chose those kids from the Primary rolls from around the world. I’m still waiting. I figure that the church has grown so large they have a lot of catching up to do…I’m still waiting.

“The Liahona is the international magazine of the Church. It contains the First Presidency Message and other words of the latter-day prophets. It also includes the Visiting Teaching Message, local news pages, material from the other Church magazines, and original material. It has articles for adults, youth, and children. Members in any area of the world may subscribe to the Liahona in any language edition.”

Rating: 4 stars Since I don’t read Swedish or French well enough appreciate the Liahona I will endorse it anyway. Since it’s a combo of the above-mentioned three, I guess it all averages out.

“The Church News is an English-only weekly publication of current Church events. A subscription to the Church News entitles subscribers to full access of the Web edition of the Church News. For more information visit www.ldschurchnews.com.”

Rating: 1 ½ stars Since it has been about 13 years since I looked in the Church News I don’t have much to rave about…other than that, 13 years ago it was really boring. I think that the church news used to be interesting because once upon a time, the church was really small, so when someone got a calling in Oklahoma, you probably knew them and when it was published in the Church News that “TJ Green of Bountiful, Utah was called and ordained to be the bishop of the Bartlesville, Oklahoma branch” you could call him up and congratulate him or give him your condolences as you saw fit. Nowadays…who cares?

I generally like the church publications. I’ve seen the Watchtower, but I just can’t get into it.

I didn't even get to the red-faced minister....ah, that one will have to wait.

Revelation or pragmatism?

2005-11-19T23:59:00.000-08:00

The scriptures tell us that God is unchanging. His commandments, apparently, are not.

There are tons of things that have changed in our short 175-year history. Polygamy, the Law of Consecration, the Word of Wisdom, and too many doctrines to mention. Why do commandments change? And do these changes come from God or from simple pragmatism? These are impossible questions to answer, but worth reflecting on.

Very few people lament the passing of the Law of Consecration, or should I say its temporary abeyance. I think the reintroduction of polygamy would be more welcome to the modern church than the full Law of Consecration. Signing over all of your property is definitely NOT one of the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. After several experiments by both Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, this commandment was put on hold till further notice because it simply did not work. Perhaps our fallen natures couldn't handle it, or perhaps it never was a workable social system to start with. Is this an example of God being pragmatic or just our leaders? Does it matter?

Polygamy is another example of a commandment that was formerly energetically encouraged but now lies in the scrap heap of Mormon history. Many people believe this too is only temporarily dormant (i.e. it will return in heaven) but I will leave that question aside for now. What is clear is that the Church was under enormous pressure by 1890 to publicly disavow the practice of polygamy, which it did. It's difficult to view this as anything other than a superficial capitulation to the federal government, especially in light of the secret plural marriage sealings that continued to take place in the temples. Did we sacrifice a sacred doctrine to get a Mormon into the Senate, or did God?

I have to admit that the timing of all these changes does bother me. Don't get me wrong, I am happy that the Church has abandoned many practices that I find unpalatable, but I wish these changes had occurred without extraordinary outside pressure. Just once I wish the Church could be ahead of the curve on broad social trends. Perhaps God just doesn't work that way, but I sure wish he did.

What might have been...

2005-11-18T14:32:00.000-08:00

I need to apologize for getting this up late. I am in Philadelphia at the moment and I am doing this instead of writing the paper I am presenting tomorrow. So, if this seems rushed, it is.

Commandments that we no longer keep. There are a couple of different ways to take this topic. First of all, there are commandments that we no longer keep as a church. Plural marriage would be one, the full law of consecration would be another. Why don't we keep them? Well, I could say that God told us that we shouldn't and leave it at that. But, it seems to me, that the temporal nature of these commandments lend them to intermittent application. The earthly aspects of life may only be controllable for brief periods. Our bodies may get in the way.

Another way of looking at the topic is to discuss commandments that I no longer keep. I used to think that it was bad to drink Coke. I don't anymore (and I drink it when available). Why did I change? Was it merely for the convienience of a sugary drink? Why did I once think that cola diligence was important and how did I come to disregard it? I don't have a ready answer for these questions and it is troubling. One part of me just says that it is one more thing that I have to keep track of and that, if there is no commandment against it, why bother? But do I really make decisions regarding keeping commandments based on personal convienience? Somehow, that doesn't seem like the way to do things. Maybe I object to modern Pharisaism, however that too seems like a less than ideal motivation for giving up the cola ban. I don't think rebellion for its own sake is particularly laudable.

Truth be told, the changing status of commandments in the church is something that I have a hard time wrapping my head around. I know that President Joseph Fielding Smith asked us to use the right hand in passing the sacrament, but I also know that this isn't considered a commandment now. Why? I don't know. In any case, I appreciate it when I am wrestling with my boy and the bread comes down the aisle.

Secret or Sacred?

2005-11-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

It is always dangerous to write about a topic that is inextricably tied to so many people's identity. I suspect most Mormons view themselves primarily as an eternal family, so the temple can be quite a sensitive subject. I will try to be as respectful as possible to everyone's beliefs and ask in advance for your forgiveness if I offend anyone.

This is also a sensitive topic because it deals with people's marriages. I certainly wouldn't appreciate someone saying to me, "Hey Ned, those icons at the Orthodox church where you were married are totally idolatrous!!! And the man who performed the ceremony was practicing priestcraft! Nehorite!" For good or bad, my marriage is part of my identity, and I will defend it against all comers.

For this reason, I'd like to set aside the topic of sealings, which are a source of great comfort and happiness to a lot of good people, and of which I have no first-hand knowledge anyway. I'd also like to skip over baptisms for the dead. I've always liked the idea and the practice of baptisms for the dead and had good experiences performing them (although perhaps because I envy being baptized as an adult). I'd like to focus instead on the endowment, and perhaps offer comfort to those who, like me, didn't seem to have the same spiritual experience as everyone else.

Part of the problem of the endowment, I believe, is overselling. We fall too much into the Homer Simpson trap of, "I don't want to oversell it, but it's better than ten Super Bowls!" Even the name leads us to believe that we'll be given a huge gift of knowledge. I'm sure some people do find great, hidden meanings in the ceremony, but I was never one of them. In my experience, the endowment presents a fairly straight-forward creation story/allegory, not all that different from the accounts we have in Abraham, Moses, and Genesis. Why do we oversell it? Because we can't tell anyone what exactly goes on, which leads to overstatement.

The atmosphere of secrecy around the temple has always bothered me. This might have made sense in the Joseph Smith-era, as the practice of polygamy was hidden. It is much harder to justify in our electronic age, when anyone who cares can find a copy in .2 seconds. Ironically, the Internet has made the ceremony available to everyone BUT faithful Mormons. For a long time, I wanted to know what changes were made to the ceremony in 1990. I had always heard about them, but I had no legitimate means of finding out. Short of cornering an old-timer in the Celestial Room, there is no way for faithful members to discover this information. I finally gave up, and googled it. I had all my answers in 60 seconds. I might have felt guilty if this information was reserved for recommend holders, but it's not. Even they don't get to know.

A second concern I had when I went through the temple was the heavy-duty promises I was required to make. Maybe some good temple prep classes spell out what those commitments are, but I was not prepared beforehand. I'm certain that I still would have gone through the temple, but it would have been nice to have a sheet saying, "these are the four promises you are going to make." Because we are afraid that everything temple-related should be secret, we allow people to go in unprepared, which I think is unfortunate. Just as we should be aware of what our baptismal covenants are before we get baptized, we should also have more than 10 seconds to decide whether we want to commit all our resources to the church. Has anyone ever left in the middle of an endowment because they didn't want to make these promises?

Lastly, I remember being quite disturbed on my mission when I discovered the heavy Masonic influence on the endowment ceremony. Once again, I had absolutely no clue. Frankly, I felt deceived. By avoiding and glossing over these topics, it seems to me that we are only postponing the day of reckoning for many of our coreligionists. Maybe 95% will never care about these things, but for the 5% who do, it can be devastating. Obviously, in the Internet age, there is now a ton of information on Masonry and Mormonism that I didn't have, but besides FARMS apologias, precious little comes from the church. What I wouldn't give for a General Conference talk explaining why our salvation is couched in such foreign Masonic terms. Is it because that was what Joseph was familiar with? Does Masonry have any relevance to us today? Why not if it is so entwined with the Endowment?

I think the root of all these problems is the same: secrecy. If we were more open about the temple, most of these problems would go away. Unfortunately, in the dark, the truth often struggles to get out.

Mountain of the Lord

2005-11-11T16:41:00.000-08:00

For me, the primary significance of the temple is the physical reinforcement that God cares about me and wants me back. That this is established in a context of my complete submission is secondary. The fact that He wants me back at all, as I haven't been particularly submissive, is astounding enough.

I find in this the primary usefulness of the temple. The reminder that even the flawed and irresponsible can enter into God's presence. The beautific unfairness that allows the sinner in by the suffering of the innocent. The glory of God's atonement in the creation of the world.

The purpose of temples is to have places set apart where God and man can meet. It may be hubristic of us to assume He is interested. Nonetheless experience, temple or otherwise, shows that He is.

Thank God for that!

For the Temple is a Holy Place

2005-11-10T18:07:00.000-08:00

I grew up always believing that I would be married in the temple. Of course, I grew up believing a lot of things. Now I’m not sure I could explain what I believe because I’m just not sure myself. I guess you could say that I still have some sort of belief of the ideal of the temple, but I just don’t know if that makes any sense.

My memories of the temple go as far back as to when my sisters and I were sealed to my parents. I was quite little, but can somehow remember looking all around and seeing my mom and dad and various other “familiar” people around them. I also remember the “old guy with white hair” that must’ve been conducting the sealing. Of everything in that memory, I remember the joy so visible on my parents’ faces. Joy that must’ve come from knowing that we were being sealed as a family for time and all eternity. I believe in that joy.

I feel at this point in my life, there is no way that I could fully understand all that goes on inside the temple. Almost as though it is WAY too much for me to handle. Not being an active member of the church, this is quite understandable. To be perfectly honest, there are so many aspects of it that I really do find mysterious and maybe even a little, um…weird? Having been “away” from the church for so many years, I suppose that my belief or the ideal that I have of the temple is really so far removed that it is hard to put it into words.

In my memories, the temple is a beautiful, joyful, peaceful place. I like that.

No Temple for Me, Thanks, Though

2005-11-09T22:25:00.000-08:00

I hate to put it like this, but I don't trust the temple.

I know... I should. The temple's never led me astray or done anything but good for me, but I'm still wary of it.

Why? Two main reasons.

1-When I was in college, I went abroad for a few months and lived right next to a temple in another country. Before I went, I wanted to take out my endowment. My bishop told me "no." I'd been studying, going to temple prep and I thought I was ready... I certainly wanted it badly. Instead, my bishop threw a past sin in my face (which I thought I was supposed to have been forgiven of) and told me that if I messed up like that after the temple, then I'd really be in a tough spot. So, the whole 3 months I lived a stone's throw from the temple, while the other two students I was there with went to the temple, I was by myself, but I wanted to be in there and I couldn't be.

2-People talk about being shocked and having their faith shaken by going to the temple. What??? That's crazy. Isn't it supposed to go along with all of the other lessons we've learned over and over and over again since we were able to sing the Sunbeam song? Isn't it? I've been tempted to look up the temple ceremony online, but I never have, out of respect. Still... I'm curious... why do so many people react that way?

I've had good temple experiences, too, though. I remember being so happy when I was 7 and my family went together to be sealed. Doing baptisms was always a positive time, although, I must admit that I now find the process of being baptized for the dead and doing other work for the dead to be completely and utterly illogical (how can you possibly do the work for every Australian aborigine, Laotian farmer or ancient Egyptian slave of whom there were no written records?).

At this point, it's all moot, because my "less-activeness" prevents me from even getting close to that path. Even if it didn't, I'm still not sure I'd want to go anymore.

I Love To See The Temple

2005-11-08T08:36:00.000-08:00

I was 19 years old when I was endowed. I wasn't going on a mission, I wasn't getting married, it was just the right time for me to take the next spiritual step in my life. I prayed about it, I fasted about it, and essentially said to Heavenly Father "hey, if you don't want me to do this, don't let it happen." I didn't meet with a single bit of resistance from any of my preisthood leaders. So, on June 2, 1998 I made my way to the Oakland Temple with my mother and her best friend and received my endowment.

For about a year prior to this I had been in a touring choir that was exclusivly preforming Steven Kapp Perry's "House of the Lord" all over Utah. I was the lone female tenor, and had the time of my life with an amazing group of people who happened to all be AMAZING singers. I felt privaliged to stand next to them night after night and sing about something I had never experianced before, but had faith in. I had never done more than baptizms for the dead, and it had been a while since I'd done that, but when I sang about it I felt the Spirit and my testimony grew.

As I sat in the temple for the first time the words of those songs came back to me. I didn't attend a temple prep class because the teacher never showed up for it, so that experiance singing about the temple became my preperation. I remember outside after all was said and done and asking my mother why she kept looking at me while we were in the temple. Her reply, "I was waiting for you to freak out." But I didn't, and I never have. The temple has always felt like home to me, everything familier and comforting. I have never felt confused or unsure. I have felt closer to my Heavenly Father, I have felt divinity within me. Going to the temple has reminded me of who I have always been.

For several years I worked in the Oakland Temple baptistry. It was there that I realized how essential every single part of every covenent we make is. The temple could not run if it weren't for those who come in to do baptizms. I am so grateful for the temple, for the oppertunity I've had to go there and to learn about myself, and make covenents with my Heavenly Father. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Temples: It’s Not Sacrament Meeting!

2005-11-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

After I received the call to serve a mission in Edinburgh, Scotland, I went home for a couple of months to work and save money. I was called to be a ward missionary, so I spent a lot of time with the local sister missionaries who were great sisters with good attitudes, and they were excited for me to be a missionary. I remember sitting in the foyer of the chapel with them and talking about what it’s REALLY like to be a missionary. One evening, we talked a little about the temple. One of the sisters must have said ten times “It’s not sacrament meeting!”

She was correct. Attending the temple is NOTHING like sacrament meeting.

For those of us who are raised in the church, religion for us is going to church on Sunday and trying to live it the rest of the week. We perceive religion to be somewhat similar to most other religions: church on Sunday, scripture reading, prayer, youth groups, etc. Temple worship is totally different from our Sunday-orientated religious paradigm.

The decision to attend the temple is a big one. There is a reason why the church provides Sunday school classes to help people prepare to go. While as Latter-Day Saints we are accustomed to making covenants with God, i.e. through the ordinance of baptism, temple attendance requires us to step it up. The Lord doesn’t want to force people into making him promises. He would much rather have his children come prepared to make more stringent commitments rather than be forced and therefore not able to hold up their end of the bargain.

And the temple commitments ARE more stringent. Before the temple, we, by being Christian, are committed to following a certain moral and ethical guideline: the 10 commandments, the Beatitudes, etc. In the temple, we COVENANT to obey some of those “rules”. Can you see the difference? We have the opportunity to seal our commitment verbally and physically and specifically.

When considering going to the temple, having a solid testimony helps. There is controversy surrounding our temple worship for several reasons, mostly because some people attend the temple without proper knowledge of the plan of salvation as it has been laid out for us in our Mormon doctrine, or without a testimony.

One of the key spiritual experiences of my entire life occurred when I was in the temple for the first time to receive the ordinance of the endowment. Without going into too much detail, there is a moment in the service where you are given the opportunity to withdraw. I seriously considered it. I thought, “Am I ready to make this commitment? This means I’m a grown-up now. Am I ready to be a grown-up? Can I keep these commitments?” It was a fraction of a second of panic. And then, stronger than anything I had ever felt up to that point, I felt the Holy Ghost calm my mind, and I had the distinct feeling of “You are in the right place at the right time, and Heavenly Father is pleased with the decision you are making.” That was my moment of truth, nothing had ever felt so right.

I love the temple, for too many reasons than could be expressed here on a blog. I’m glad I decided to go. I’m glad that I went to the temple for YEARS before I got married, so that I could appreciate the doctrines and principles from the perspective of a single female before I got married. The temple is not only for marriages. The temple is here for us individually, regardless of gender, race, marital status, or age (…well, maturity helps).

Some good resources on Mormon temples and on what we believe are found on the church website where you can also find questions frequently about our temples.

2005-11-03T23:01:00.000-08:00

I had friends from school who’s parents were divorced…and there were family members or people at church who had gone through or experienced divorce. But divorce is not something I have a whole lot of experience with. It’s not an easy topic for many and even though in many cases divorce is necessary, I just know it’s not something I ever want to happen to me and my marriage.

My husband and I just celebrated our eighth anniversary on Tuesday. I’m so proud of us, but if you’ve ever read the story of our beginning, you’d see that we didn’t have the easiest of starts and we’ve had some very, very hard times. There could’ve easily been a different ending to the story. The odds were never in our favor.

I haven't really witnessed first hand the prejudice or judgment toward anyone going through a divorce within the Mormon church. However, I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be. I think that if your family unit (divorced, single, married, kids, whatever) falls outside the “normal” realm of what the “typical Mormon family” should be, it is not easy and I would imagine that people going through a divorce would feel the same way. It breaks my heart to see people who are in the most need of love and support from their family, friends and people from church only to find judgment, rejection and even avoidance.

It’s just one more situation that seems to give people the false sense of being better than someone else and the thinking that there must be something wrong with anyone that’s gone through a divorce. What a surprise.

Rebecca's* Story

2005-11-02T17:56:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, one of my friends from church had parents who were divorced. Rebecca's* dad cheated on her mom, so she divorced him. In my opinion, that was the right thing to do.

Unfortunately for Rebecca's mom, brothers and sisters, other people did not agree. Several women in the ward refused to let their husbands home teach her. Some people wouldn't even let their kids go over to their house. Apparently they thought that since she was single and looking that she'd look anywhere.

My dad was their home teacher and I was glad. I was glad that their family trusted ours and Rebecca and I were friends until and through our time at BYU.

She would frequently tell me about how some person or another had done something or said something where her family was treated differently because her mom was divorced. Sometimes I found it hard to believe, but people do thoughtless and heartless things all of the time without ever realizing it.

Rebecca called me a couple of weeks ago to reconnect. She was coming into town from Utah and wanted to hang out. She'd gotten married in the temple before I left Utah and that was the last I'd heard from her. She let me know that she's now divorced.

I didn't delve into the reasons for her divorce over the phone... I figured she'd let me know if she wanted me to know. She did tell me that she hasn't been going to church but she was starting to go again.

I was really saddened that she'd had to go through that, while she still carried so much pain from her own parents' relationship issues. I hope that she won't be treated the way her family was when she was growing up.

I think that divorce is terrible for children and terrible for the people involved. This isn't true in every case, though. Sometimes the only thing worse than divorce, though, is staying together.

*Names changed to protect identities.

D-I-V-O-R-C-E

2005-10-30T20:28:00.000-08:00

The Mormon Church recognizes divorce.

“In the gospel view, all marriages should be eternal, and divorce should never enter the picture. But since all men—as a result of apostasy and iniquity—are not living (and in their present states cannot live) the full and perfect gospel law, the Lord permits divorce and allows the dissolution of the marriage union.” B.R. McConkie

I guess if we were all perfect, there would be no need for divorce. As long as we remain imperfect, we need divorce.

The divorce rate peaked in the late 70’s (according to a recent “Radio West” show on NPR…). The divorce rate has declined slowly since then, although it is still a prevalent and prominent family issue nationally. There is an erroneous statistic out there that half of all marriages end in divorce. (You can look that one up, because, again, I heard that myth busted on the Diane Rheim show.)

When I was really little, I didn’t know many people at church who got divorces. Little kids don’t often know what goes on in the adult world. Even when divorce was at its peak, there was still a stigma attached socially (not only in our Mormon culture). These days, while we still may hold certain prejudices against our least favorite member of the couple in question, there is less of a social stigma.

I don’t have much personal experience with divorce. My parents have been happily and successfully married for almost 35 years. I have been blessed with a marriage that is ridiculously easy and thoroughly enjoyable (almost to the point of guilt and sometimes embarrassment).

I think that divorce is sad, but sometimes, it’s necessary. Anyone who might have an experience being ostracized or excluded due to their own marital status or the status of their parents is a victim of personal prejudice and not official church policy, and that, too, is sad.

People change. Some people do complete 180’s. You never think it can happen to you, but it happens. You can never MAKE a person live the commandments or love you, but you can make sure that there are certain elements present in your marriage that would up your chances of staying together. If I weren’t so flu-ish I’d list them, but I’m no expert. I’m just lucky.

You could meet somebody who really loves you...

2005-10-29T11:59:00.000-07:00

Despite being born and raised (mostly) in Utah, I have attended exactly one youth dance in my entire life. It was enough.

When I was fourteen years old, we lived across the street from the Stake Center. I was still pretty young, so I didn't really pay attention to youth dances even though my dad was involved in Young Men's and was often a chaperon. One night when he was across the street chaperoning a Stake dance, a couple of my friends from school rang my doorbell. Glenn and Ross (the names have been changed to protect the innocent) had been at the dance when my father noticed them and asked them to go get me. Humiliation #1. Thanks, Dad.

As we prepared to go over to the Stake Center, I discovered that I did not have the necessary two dollars to get in. My friends had already paid their admission and gotten their hands stamped. We went up to my room to rummage through my junk drawer, trying to scare up enough change, but to no avail. What I did have was a red Magic Marker, which Glenn expertly used to create a mark on my hand. It was flawless. Our three hand-stamps were indistinguishable. We crossed the street, proud in the knowledge that we had beaten the system. I confidently strode through the packed lobby up to the desk to show my stamp and gain admission, but who should be observing the whole scene but my father. He was talking to someone, far enough away that I couldn't talk to him but close enough to see the whole thing. I put my hand back in my pocket; I couldn't show my awesome forgery without him seeing it, so I panicked. Glenn and Ross were ahead of me and we all ignored the girl with the cash box and just pushed through to the dance. "Hello? It's two dollars!" she yelled after us, but we quickly disappeared in the crowd. Humiliation #2.

The cultural hall was darker than I had ever seen it and a disco ball was hanging from the rafters. I remember distinctly that Erasure was blasting through the speakers. There were a number of people convulsing grotesquely to the music (is there any other way to dance to "Oh, L'Amour"?) but the great majority were gathered into small groups of all boys or all girls. Glenn, Ross and I staked out some ground against a wall and watched the proceedings. This is what my dad wanted me to experience? I couldn't help thinking this was a total waste of time and energy.

It didn't seem unusual at the time, but most surprising to me in hindsight is that we were approached and asked to dance several times by girls. Insecure jerks that we were, we refused all comers. At one point I said to one intrepid girl, "I'm sorry, I don't dance." Which was true, but then why was I at a dance? Ask my father. Wherever you are, girl-who-asked-me-to-dance, I'm sorry. But really, you have no idea how narrowly you escaped the trauma of witnessing my dance moves. You're welcome.

As the dance was winding down, my dad found me. "I noticed that you just kind of pushed your way in tonight."
"Well, I didn't have any money."
"Here's two dollars; make sure you pay them on the way out." Humiliation #3.

Glenn and Ross had to stick around for Ross's mom to pick them up, but I was done. I headed for the door, dreading the humiliation of explaining to the cashier why I was paying her two dollars on the way OUT of the dance. I folded up the two bills, and as I passed the table, I tossed the two dollars near the cash box without turning or slowing down. I bolted for the door as the young woman shouted after me, "thanks for the donation!" My face had turned purple by the time I reached the blessed safety of the outside air. Humiliation #4.

Soon after this incident, my family moved far away from Utah and its awkward youth dances. I can't say I was too disappointed. I am proud to report that after a few mortifying high school dances, I have succeeded in never dancing again, not even at my wedding. You're welcome.

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

2005-10-28T04:23:00.000-07:00

In dancing, as in most things, I require a rigid set of parameters within which I can work. I need a topic to post regularly; I need a page number to write to. If I can figure out the limits in the system, I can use it pretty well. Which is why I am a pretty good "ballroom" dancer (ie. I can do "dances"), but is also why I cannot dance.

Having said that, I don't know why I preferred school dances to stake dances growing up, but I did. After all, what you could and couldn't do was much more strictly defined at stake dances. Some dances were entirely inappropriate. The maintenance of the standard "Book of Mormon width" distance between yourself and your partner was enforced. PDA was discouraged. Learning how to interact appropriately with the opposite sex must be accomplished.

School dances, on the other hand, weren't actually any fun either, but they were more relaxed. You hung out with the people there because you actually liked them (not because they happened to be the only people you knew or the only other members in the area). The teachers didn't ultimately care about the morals of their students and, as a result, we were generally moral. If you left early to go get something to eat, there was no sense of failing to do your part to develop the church and perfect the saints in your area.

Perhaps the pioneers danced because everything else about their lives was so horrible and chaotic that the order and design of those cottilions and Virginia rolls gave them a sort of peace and a sense of civilization that was otherwise utterly absent. The youth today dance because they are told that they need to be date hungry by 16 and this is to prep them for that big date. So, I don't know that the continued emphasis on group dancing is that good an idea (although, if we did it pioneer style, I could put those 8th grade square dance lessons to work).

I think dances are intended to be about building a community. Shared movement is a ritual that brings people closer together. Rock, Rap, Funk, and other modern musical forms simply aren't conducive to such community building (setting the Electric Slide aside, of course). The forms and the dances that accompany them are grounded in the individual experience. They simply don't accomplish the sorts of things that the pioneer dances did for the church community. As a result, we have lost some of our ability to be around each other, which is sad.

At school, society was already splintered. You danced to the songs you liked. You sat for the songs you didn't. You didn't have to be friends with everyone else. The school dance dynamic is much more suited to the musical forms of the era. Can you imagine what would happen if everyone had to dance with everyone? Where would all the cliques go? ;>

In any case, I am much better at the dancing of the pioneers and much more amenable to the setting of the school dance. Is this a case of being in the world, but not of the world? I dunno. All I can tell you is that it's electric.

I Could Have Danced All Night

2005-10-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

From the very SECOND I turned 14 I LOVED youth dances. I remember with painful clarity how much time I took getting ready for my first dance. I was ready SO EARLY for the dance, that I made my mother take me along shopping with her before she dropped me off at the dance I was so nervous. Being the last one in my group of friend to turn 14, I was thrilled to know that they would all be there and able to fill me in on what was cool and not so cool at the youth dances.

The following is some of my favorite dance memories. These are meaningless little tidbits, but to me, they were the greatest events of my adolecence.

* The first "dance" I truly attended was a ward "manners night" where we learned all things that were appropriate for us to do. We were dressed to impress, so at 13, you KNOW I was looking good. The thing I remember most was THE dorkiest boy in our ward asking me to dance on a fast song (WHAT? A FAST SONG? I KNOW!)and I said, "One second." Went over to JP and said, "WHAT DO I DO? I don't WANT to dance with him!" JP reminded me that you should say yes, even if you don't WANT to dance with them. So, I went back, with pain in my voice agreed to dance with him and really just ended up standing there staring at him as he gyrated. It was frightening.

* My first "offical" dance was marked with sadness that 1) no one asked me to dance (tear) and 2) I thought the way the kids DID dance was utterly RETARDED. I KNEW what real dancing looked like at that was NOT it. I think it was the first time I thought, "Stupid Mormons!" in my head. I've been saying it in my head ever since. You will know I've gone over the edge when I start saying it out loud.

* When I was 15 I became fast friends with the CUTEST BOY I HAD EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE whose name was Aaron. We only saw each other at dances, and he ALWAYS asked me to dance and told me how wonderful I was. Did I mention he was DROP DEAD GORGEOUS? I seriously thought he was put up to it by his freinds, some cruel joke or dare. But, no! That was not the case! He thought I was funny and charming, and danced with me at every single dance for years. To this day I hold a soft spot in my heart for that boy. (sigh)

* Sometime in my seventeenth year, we had a rash of Theme dances. My favorite of these was the "What I Want To Be When I Grow Up" Dance. Essentially, you were supposed to dress in style of what profession you wanted to be someday. So, I went in my pajama's and slippers that looked like gorillia faces (foot inserted into mouth) with a handmade sign on my back that said, "Pulitzer Prize Winner." I can't tell you how many DOZENS of stupid Mormon's came up to me and asked, "Um... what's the Puliter Prize?" Seriously... IDIOTS! But really, it was just an excuse to wear my pajama's... I'll do anything for comfort.

* The weekend afer Kurt Cobain died, there was a casual youth dance. There was a FLOOD of Nirvana t-shirts and people requesting their rather undanceable (and mildly church house inappropriate) tunes. Once again, the thoughts of, "WHATEVER YOU POSERS!" Screamed through my head. I mean, how grunge can a 15 year old Mormon kid actually be?

* To this day, whenever I hear ANY song by Erasure or Ace of Base, the song "Somebody" by Depech Mode, "Love Shack" by The B-52's and the LONG version of Bryan Adam's "Everything I Do (I Do It For You)" I am transported back to the Saturday night dances of my youth. Those moments of wondering if someone, ANYONE, was going to ask me to dance, of laughing at my friends, at the way we felt in that moment, and feeling like maybe this WAS fun after all.

There was something kind of magical about youth dances for me. The magic, sadly, did not continue onto Young Single Adult dances, but I think A LOT of that had to do with the fact that toward the end of my singleness, I was getting baby announcements from people I had babysat and really, there is SUCH a level of desperation at YSA dances that it taints the whole evening. There wasn't any of that at a youth dance because you weren't (or really SHOULDN'T have been) worrying about getting married, and ticking biological clocks. It was a time of innocence, of bad hair, too much make up and learning how to be YOU. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Ritualistic Torture

2005-10-24T10:31:00.000-07:00

We dance. Mormons dance. The pioneers danced across the plains. Our grandparents and great-grandparents dressed to the nines for the annual Gold and Green Ball, our parents boogied to great bands even at BYU (like the Fifth Dimension…can you imagine a 20 jam session on “Age of Aquarius”?...my parents were there, man!), and all my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins attended local stake dances across the country. Like I said, we Mormons…dance.

Then there is me. I AM a dancer. Ballet, tap, jazz, modern, ballroom: you name it. But I HATED stake dances. HATED.

When you turn 14, you are allowed to attend the regional dances sponsored and held at local Mormon churches. In Utah, your region, or stake, may include 4 or five blocks in your neighborhood. Where I grew up, it covered half the state, literally.

I remember being 14 and driving to the monthly dance in New Jersey with my older sister and brother. We would have to drive about an hour to get to any other church besides our own chapel, and I loved the anticipation of something fun that was just around the corner.

But when we got to the dance, the older brother and sister would promptly disappear into the crowd in search of their various friends, and I would be stranded in the dark looking for a familiar and/or friendly face.

Then there was the dancing. I HATE THAT KIND OF DANCING. I can’t do it. I still can’t get over myself. I can’t shut out the feeling that I’m being watched while I dance. I feel silly shaking and side-stepping and pumping my fists. What are you supposed to do with your hands while you dance? I wished I could have worn mittens.

What happened to the good-old-days where the dances were named: “oh, that’s the mashed potato….now, she’s doing the twist…” In my day, the named dances were a joke: the running man, the Roger Rabbit… We did those for about 5 seconds at a time to be silly. What was supposed to fill all that time out there?! And what about dancing with a partner? Rocking in a circle with a boy with sweaty hands while feverishly trying to think of something to say or ask while trying not to breathe on him or be breathed upon!!!

Bleckhhh!

I used to bring a book with me to stake dances as a back-up. For a couple of years there in Massachusetts I was on a stake youth committee; they had the youth in the stake plan ALL the activities: dances, youth conference, mini-missions, temple trips… When no one was looking, when I wasn’t MC-ing, I would sneak out to the mother’s lounge and read for as long as my conscious would allow me before guilt would drive me back in to check on things and make sure every one was having a good time and dancing. I felt compelled to peel the wall-flowers from the perimeter and help them have a good time when I myself wanted nothing more than to leave tire tracks in the parking lot.

I’m not trying to be some kind of martyr…dances just make me feel uncomfortable. Don’t even get me started on Homecomings and Proms…

But the BEST part of the dances was coming home. Sitting in the dark in the back seat of the gray Volvo, mix tape in the deck, brother and sister silent, musing, rolling New England countryside sliding past…that felt like Heaven.

Unpleasant dinner conversation

2005-10-22T22:20:00.000-07:00

The saying goes that we shouldn't discuss religion or politics over dinner. So perhaps it comes as no surprise that when we go on the internet, we love to talk about these subjects at great length.

What bothers me is when people insist on mixing the two. I submit that there is no good social policy that cannot be better supported by secular arguments than religious. Our country, whether we want to admit it or not, is essentially a secular institution. I have no problem with being conservative, or being religious, but please don't tell me to be conservative because I'm religious.

Do I think Jesus has political opinions? Maybe, but I'll bet they would surprise us. I think we'd be better off if we left him out of this.

Can't we all just get along?

2005-10-21T11:33:00.000-07:00

I suppose that it is one of the ironies of the current religious atmosphere in America that the modern Christian fundamentalist movement began to exert an influence at roughly the same time that Joseph Smith was looking to find the true church. This movement, sometimes called Evangelism out of a desire to get to the real meaning behind the Gospels, in America is a form of Arminianism. It grew up in concert with Darwinism, its other chief rival. All three movements, Restorationism, Evangelism, and Naturalism operate on the same basic principle: I'm right and you are wrong.

I don't know if there is anyway around this. If the Evangelists belief that all other people who do not enter into communion with them regarding proper knowledge of God and proper ordinance are going to hell, how do you not call that exclusive? If the Mormons believe that you have to enter into communion with them regarding proper knowledge of God and proper ordinances in order to get into heaven, it certainly appears that they think their church has greater access to the divine than others. If Naturalists agree that both Evangelists and Restorationists are insane for believing in a higher power, there doesn't seem to be much room for dialogue (after all, we do not converse with crazy people, we tolerate them until they become dangerous).

Perhaps this communicative impasse is particularly frustrating when we seek to combine the political and the spiritual aspects of our life. In all of the above cases, it seems natural to turn to the opinions and documents that give our lives meaning. Although sometimes the above groups may find themselves in agreement, it is understood that such alliances are temporary; they are not really of our kind.

Now, in making this statement, I am distorting the truth. Harry Reid, Orrin Hatch, and Mitt Romney aside, I am grossly overestimating the influence of the Restorationists in current political life. We are, after all, curiousities above all else. Additionally, By grouping the traditional Christian denominations as Evangelists, I am doing all concerned a great disservice (after all, modern Evangelism grew out of the same frustrations with the traditional denominations that inspired Joseph Smith to head for the woods). Certainly, one can be a christian without being an evangelist or a restorationist. Nonetheless, it does seem that the single most politically powerful religious movement of the day is that of Christian Conservatives, the so-called religious right.

I have always viewed the goals, explicit or otherwise, of the Christian conservative with suspicion. I have earned, through personal experience, an understanding of how Christian conservatives view me which leads me to question why I should entrust my political future to them. Nonetheless, it does appear that in many ways I am supposed to agree with them on issues of social justice. They and I both view abortion as terribly troubling. They and I both agree that the coarsening of culture over time is something that, while possibly inevitable, should be battled. That said, I don’t know why I should vote like they do.

Let me be more specific. If we allow politicians to put us into these groups (Evangelists, Restorationists, Liberals, Conservatives, etc.), we are effectively allow other people to dictate our position for us. I don’t see anything useful in that. While I may be more sympathetically to the Democratic platform generally, I am far from being a Democrat. I don’t like it when people tell me how I believe in God and I don’t like it when people tell me how God thinks I should vote. I am perfectly capable of working that out without outside interference.

The polarization of religious debate in America, like all other polarizing debates, too quickly creates categories into which most people simply do not fall. If I don’t take Pat Robertson as representative of all the Evangelical Christians out there, please do me a favor and don’t take Warren Jeffs or John D. Lee as representative of mine. We all come out looking good if we take the worst examples of our rivals’ factions and compare them to the best examples of our faction, but I don’t think we get any closer to the truth. What we need to discuss is what we have in common first, and then we can discuss what we don’t. If we focus on the differences, we are likely to find ourselves in endless monologues, pointing out how spiritually insightful we happen to be. There is no truth there, only pride.

Ultimately, I don’t believe that what the right or the left has to say is particularly important. However, what the religious say is important, supremely so. If there is a way we can get those people together and talking, I think we may be able to get some progress.

Am I Right, Or Am I Right??!

2005-10-20T16:48:00.000-07:00

It bugs me when people think that their way is THE ONLY WAY. It drives me up a tree to talk to anyone who cannot, for one second, fathom another way of doing things or that someone else just might have a good point. So it boggles the mind that I, JP, married into SUCH a family. If you have even taken a gander at my site, you will quickly realize that my mother in-law is the type of person that will eat you alive if you disagree with her. All 4’11” of her. You’d think with her being such a tiny person, you would have no trouble having your own opinion. But then you would be WRONG. Again.

A few years ago, at a family dinner for my husband’s side of the family, a few of us talked quite a bit about religion. We discussed several religions and different aspects of each, but our discussions were very general and very light. My mother in-law sat there listening through our lengthy conversation and then abruptly left the table. We continued our conversation, which happened to have landed on tithing and/or offerings and a few minutes later, my mother in-law returned to the table with a program from the last Sunday’s Mass. Being a devout Catholic, she saw the need to fill us in on all our wrong ideas and opinions. When we told her that we were just discussing general religious topics and that we weren’t really looking to verify any doctrine. She disagreed (somehow) with our way of thinking and felt it appropriate to tell us exactly how we should believe.

Insert much eyebrow raising here.

While I’m very happy that she has a firm belief in what she knows to be true, I don’t feel that anyone should ever make someone else, who may have a difference in opinion, feel inferior in any way. Sitting around the table with these family members who do not practice any religion and who are having a general religious discussion, it is a bit much to take for them when someone is shoving it down their throat. And who is telling them HOW they should think and believe.

I just don’t think that’s okay.

My Religion Can Beat Up Your Religion

2005-10-19T09:01:00.000-07:00

About two years ago I was at the dog park with my two puppies. I was socializing with the other dog owners, which was always one of my favorite aspects of spending time at the dog park.

There was a couple there who were talking about how much they were going to miss the dog park when they moved to Utah and how they were a little worried about moving to Utah because of all of the Mormons.

They spouted off a few false "facts" about Mormons, like how they still had multiple wives (since there weren't moving to southern Utah, I considered this false) and how they depend on thier kids to get them to heaven, which is why they have so many.

I spoke up in defense of accuracy and attempted to tell them that what they had heard wasn't correct. I told them I used to be Mormon, so that's how I know.

All of the sudden, I was under attack. "Why did you leave? Is it because you didn't want to have 10 kids?" Ummm... my reasons for leaving aren't relevant. I just wanted you to know what they actually believe. "Is it because you know that Joseph Smith was a fraud?" No. My reasons for leaving had nothing to do with that. They are personal. "Well, what are they? Why did you leave?" THEY ARE PERSONAL.

I had to leave immediately. I wasn't ready to talk about it at that point in my life. But what struck me is that this attitude of incessant questioning so that you can prove your point is something that I'd seen before. Perhaps it's something I'd done before.

When you get into a religious discussion with someone and the veracity of a religious belief becomes a point of argument, people don't just give in. They argue and question and probe until you become raw and distrustful and angry.

When I've had conversations with people who are deeply committed to their religion, but who don't seem to live the principals it teaches (like patience, kindness, tolerance) I get terribly frustrated. Don't they know that having such a discussion with someone who believes differently will not result in a conversion, but an avoidance and a abhorance of the religion they are trying to promote?

Have you been party to one of these ~~discussions~~ arguments or whose religion (or lack thereof) is better? Does it ever serve the purpose you hope it will?

Please Forgive Me

2005-10-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

One of the most interesting experiences of my life was sitting down with a bishop I had while in a BYU ward and basically telling him the sad story of my life. I talked about things that had happened to me, and how painful they continued to be, but how I felt it was my responsibility to forgive those who had trespassed against me. My bishop scrunched up his face a little and said, "Sarah, you don't have to forgive them in situations such as this." I thought for a moment. A long, long moment. And then I looked my bishop in the eye and said, "I may not HAVE to, but I know that if I don't, it will eat me alive." I was 19 years old, confused about my life and where I belonged in the world, but that one thing was perfectly clear. Forgiving for the things that happened to me had almost nothing to do with the persons who had transgressed against me, but it had everything to do with me letting go of that pain.

I won't say that the process was easy, it was surely not. Even now, almost a decade later, I have moments where the pain flares and the anger returns because of things that happened ages ago. But, for the most part, I feel I have forgiven - not only those who trespassed, but I have forgiven myself and that is something that is often much harder than forgiving others. There have been countless times that I have freely forgiven someone else but harbored the most hateful feelings toward myself for something so completely minor I hardly merits being thought about, let alone feeling as terrible as I've been known to make myself feel about things. Over the years I have learned this is not Heavenly Fathers way, but very much a tool of the Satan.

Do I believe anyone is beyond forgiveness? No, not really. I have seen forgiveness work miracles in people. I have seen the letting go of a grudge lighten someone's life exponentially. There is no use in carrying that hurt around. In the words of every recovering addict I've ever met, it is just better to Let Go and Let God. It is better to forgive. If you don't, the pain and hurt will do nothing less than eat you alive.

What About the Religious Left?

2005-10-17T10:58:00.000-07:00

What about us? I mean, I’m always right anyway whether we’re talking religion or directions or fashion, right? But what if my leanings are left? Am I still right?

I wish I weren’t the first writer this week, not only do I have a house full of unexpected guests (I have two rooms that are SO dirty it looks like I have a couple of squatters…), I am rather looking forward to the comments of our readers. Should I start off with something controversial, just to get the ball rolling?

How about…hmmm…of course, the religious right are right because they are religious and religious people are always right…

…or…just because you don’t believe in God doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in you…

hmmm… what are some of my other favorite right wing zingers?…

Well, all you have to do look up “religious right bumper stickers” on Google to get a good smattering of drivel.

I know that non-religious people sometimes get up tight about someone, anyone, who says they have the answer when it comes to religion. It annoys them because it must seem terribly self-righteous. I just like to keep in mind that while I love and enjoy my religion, I am considered DEAD WRONG by pretty much any other religious person NOT of my same religion. It’s not only non-religious people who think the religious right are self righteous…it pretty much works for everyone with opposing views.

But don’t forget…I’m right, or rather left but right.

I'm not the man you think I am...

2005-10-15T23:59:00.000-07:00

We live in a decidedly unheroic age. We know too much. Our political leaders lead uninspiring lives; our sports stars abuse drugs and women nonchalantly. Not only are no new heroes emerging, all our old heroes are quickly falling to Earth. Your personal hero may have been a racist or a womanizer. We have more information than ever, and can share it with the click of a mouse. Gone are the days when we could live in comfortable ignorance about the personal life of, say, Thomas Jefferson.

I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. If anything, it's more healthy to have a realistic view of other human beings and their short-comings. Some people may be inspiring, but if we idolize them too much, they become unreal and remote. This is why I think we need to have a more balanced view of our church leaders, both past and present.

I'm encouraged by the reports I've read of the recent books which have come out on the lives of Joseph Smith, David O. McKay, and Spencer W. Kimball. We need to learn about all aspects of the prophets' lives, and not just the faith-promoting stories. I don't think it's healthy for us or the Church to try to elide the parts of our history that make us uncomfortable. Getting this stuff out in the open is enormously helpful in both understanding the past and identifying with the prophets as real people.

Contrast this with the man who I consider to be the least interesting prophet of all time, Nephi. Nephi is boring, two-dimensional, and unreal. He never doubts, never wavers, and never makes a mistake except breaking his bow. I'm sure he had a lot of personal problems that Laman and Lemuel could tell us about, but they didn't get to add a "Republican Response" to the end of 2nd Nephi. Nephi can't be my hero; I can't identify with him. He is a victim of his own propaganda.

I guess I'd rather read about a rough stone rolling than the unremittingly righteous.

The Screw

2005-10-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

Jason Hancock was my trainer on my mission. When I arrived in Moscow, I was overwhelmed. The airport was dusty, load, old, and it spoke a foreign tongue that seemed wholly unlike the one I had learned in the MTC. The AP's had hired a city bus to bring us into town. The buildings were crowded together; the innumerable host of people appeared as windswept as the perpetually flying plastic bags. One by one, the people whom I had come to Moscow with were picked up by bright-eyed young men in crisp white shirts and dark ties. I was the last to leave the office. All the elders there assured me that Elder Hancock would come, that he was just screwing around with me.

Jason Hancock had a wide smile, dark hair (parted down the middle), slightly dorky glasses, and ring around the collar. Although he isn't ugly, the person he reminds me of most is the smaller, rounder kid of the trick-or-treaters in The Nightmare before Christmas. The personality kind of fits, too.

Elder Hancock finally came, took me out to the street to get a taxi, chatted the driver up all the way to our apartment, and then helped me carry my things up. Some of Hancock's missionary buddies were there, having spent the night because they had come in from Nizhny Novgorod. They joked and laughed with each other, cracking jokes in Russian about my inability to understand them. I asked Elder Hancock what we were going to do and he said that he had nothing planned, because I would need to sleep. He was right. Some of the best advice he ever gave me was, "Don't wake up until morning, no matter what."

Live with Hancock was interesting. We tracted some and street contacted some. We also listened to an awful lot of Broadway Musicals. Any respect that I have for Andrew Lloyd Webber comes from this period (tempered by an abiding hate for The Phantom of the Opera). Of course, we didn't necessarily limit ourselves to musicals. Hancock had become enamored of Sarah Brightman (see above Webber comment) and had purchased her latest CD. Occasional other rock or classical motifs appeared. Hancock had plenty of music to choose from because he had convinced his trainer to bring Hancock's entire CD collection with them from Utah when they came to pick up their son.

I can't remember the name of Hancock's trainer at the moment, but he was famous for having a glass eye. When kids got unruly during discussions, he would pop it out and turn it to watch them. Apparently, they quieted up under the gaze of the all-seeing eye. He had been shot in the eye with an arrow by his kid brother. His family owned the "kiss-a-pig" petting zoo in Vernal, UT (with a pig on the sign). Of course, I got all of this information from Hancock.

Hancock wasn't the most notorious liar in the mission. Another elder, who made AP, apparently managed to convince one of his companions that the Three Nephites had dropped by for a visit while the companion was in the shower. Yet another attempted to convince a greenie that the Church had okayed vodka use for missionary purposes in the Russian field (and was shocked when the greenie went along). However, Hancock was probably the most charismatic.

Hancock loved shopki, the stereotypical, boxy Russian hats. He took me to a vast open-air market on my second day in country so that I could buy one. He told me story after story to demonstrate what a shrewd bargainer he was. He had bought several of the hats already. He got himself an impressive wolf one, which gave him a bearing somewhat like a cross between Christopher Lloyd and Yahoo Serious. He also helped me buy a "black mink" one for something like $100. When, months later, I discovered that black mink meant "dyed rabbit", I could have killed him. But he had already left.

I was his next to last companion. He had four months left when he got me and he loved to discuss what he would do when he got home. In particular, he imagined himself naked...in a pool...with girls (I wonder how many searchers that sentence will pull in).

In our second month together, Hancock got appendictus. They took him to a Russian hospital where, he later told, all the nurses came in while he was being prepped for surgery because they had never seen a circumcised man before. During the surgery, the entirety of The Phantom of the Opera played out in his head. He was shaken awake by a nurse briefly, who asked him if he wanted what looked like a pickle in a jar. He only later realized what he had turned down. He was terribly disappointed in his judgment.

I have many heroes. My wife, my parents, my siblings, my kids, church figures, and others. I don't know why I feel like discussing Hancock. He was an unrepentent screw. He didn't much care about mission rules if they interfered with his idea of a good time or idea. During his convalescense, when all I could do was sit around the apartment, he encouraged me to read Tom Clancy books. He was convinced that our landlord was sneaking in to our apartment when we were out and using our soap. He was hedonistic, trunky, abrasive, irreverent and goofy. I love him to this day.

One day, we were out working. We actually did a fair amount of it, though not as much as our overzealous DL thought was necessary. In any case, we spent a full day getting nothing accomplished. So, Hancock decided we would go home. We still had plenty of evening left. Work could have been done. But Hancock had the wisdom to see that we weren't going to be able to do it. When we got home, he got out brooms and we cleaned the apartment. I am not sure why, but cleaning that apartment that night brought me closer to the Lord than all the frustrating work that we had done during the day had. Afterward, Hancock encouraged me to sit out on the balcony and watch the sunlight fade away.

Hancock understood that we are, after all, just folk, in a way that I didn't then and sometimes still don't. God doesn't expect us to be perfect; he expects us to be us, and he seems happy to work with that. God doesn't expect heroics from us all the time, he realizes that we have to sleep. Hancock did whatever he did sincerely, with a good heart and an understanding of the fragile humanity that binds us together. In his own wierd way, he was a hero.

Calling Out for a Hero

2005-10-13T14:49:00.000-07:00

I feel like I’ll just be restating everything that Kaycee said in her post because that really is how I feel. I don’t look to any one person or group and identify them as a specific HERO of mine. My parents, my family, my friends…there are many people who do heroic things every day…even if it’s not saving the world dressed in spandex and a cape. I think it’s important to remember that each of us have the potential to be a hero for someone else even if we don't even realize it.

Remember,

“It’s not the big things you say, it’s the little things you do.”

The Little Things Count

2005-10-12T00:09:00.000-07:00

Although I'm completely enamored with the idea of having super powers, of doing good and righting wrongs, and of ~~wearing spandex~~ making this world better--by saving it on a regular basis--I can't say that I know any super heroes. It's not that I'm not trying to find them... the people who never give in and never give up and use their X-Ray vision to help people... it's just that they aren't there.

In comic books and cartoons, super heroes face challenges and always overcome. They might look trapped and the world might appear to be "doomed," but the super heroes come out ahead (otherwise the author would be out of a job). Real life doesn't work like that.

Sometimes, even the people who are the strongest, who refuse to accept failure or defeat, who ~~look excellent in spandex~~ carry the burdens of others... saving their worlds... sometimes they give up. They give up, even if it's only on the inside, even if it's only for a minute, they are defeated.

Does that take away their super-hero-ness? I think it does. The good news is that it makes us all the same. We all can be like those strong, inspirational people, too. We just have to not "give up" permanently.

That's why I find the salvations offered up daily to be the real acts of a hero.

For example, yesterday while I was driving I was unable to change lanes due to traffic and was at a stoplight about to go straight when I needed to go right. A nice man saw my plight, steered his own vehicle out of the way so that I could move by and I got to my destination on time and in safety. He couldn't hear it, but I told him he was my hero.

People who remember to give their secret pals gifts are heroes. So are people who keep coming up with creative ways to donate money to breast cancer research. And the people who stick to a healthy lifestyle even when they don't like it.

Basically, I consider anyone who does something I find difficult but valuable, a hero. That's what the superheroes do... difficult, but valuable work. I see heroes in the small, every day acts people perform.

I've always felt this way, but for a time, I used the amalgam of personal traits and character strengths of others as an impossible standard which I emotionally held myself to. Now I realize that I can just appreciate what Superman or Wonder Woman's got going on and that I don't necessarily need to go all Supergirl on the world.

My Personal Heroes and Heroines

2005-10-10T08:27:00.000-07:00

I had several heroes growing up: Maria Tallchief (the first Native American principle dancer for a major ballet company), Lena Horn (a beautiful and talented singer who tried to break the racial barriers of early Hollywood), and Condorman played by future phantom Michael Crawford (seriously, I thought “Condorman” was the coolest movie going…for a while there…).

But as I’ve grown older and wiser, as my priorities have shifted, two people have played prominent roles in becoming my “guiding stars” to steer my developing character and important decisions: my mom and dad (this is where you’re supposed to go “aaaaaw” with a happy little frown…).

My mom and dad come from good, “normal” families. But what sticks out to me is the decisions my parents have made throughout their family…um, career.

Here is a good example: They have both been committed to the Gospel and to the church all my life. At the age of 29, my dad accepted a call to be a mission president in the country in which he served as a missionary: Sweden. He gave up a secure job (in which he had recently been promoted), a new home (after years in an apartment), and a new car.

My mom, never having had the advantage of going on a mission to Sweden and learning the language, agreed to go and support her husband in this calling. By the time they packed up and left, they had 4 children, the youngest being 2 weeks old.

My dad had missionaries who were older than he was. My mom was a hot PYT (pretty young thing) and had to be a “mission mom” and a source of counsel and inspiration to a group of missionaries, basically her peers. She also had to learn Swedish from scratch. My dad dealt with teaching, training, speaking, and leading. My mom had to deal with children (number 5 was born in Sweden), a foreign language, foreign currency, schools, speaking assignments, and hosting a constant stream of family visitors and church leaders. To her credit, she only cried two times: in a testimony meeting early on when she realized she couldn’t understand a single word of what was going on and once in the produce section of the grocery store (foreign currency and the metric system had taken its toll…). I don’t know if my dad cried out of frustration, but knowing him, he probably cried along with some of his missionaries.

It took a lot of faith for my parents to do what they did. They literally left everything to go serve the Lord for three years. I’ve made a covenant to do that, too, but I have never been asked, and if I were, could I go so willingly? But that singular experience, I believe, has had more impact on our family character and identity than any other decision they have ever made. It really set a precedence that would carry on for the rest of out family life: constant moving, church callings, and a willingness to stand up and serve anywhere, anytime.

When I think about what my parents were doing at my age (by my current age, my mom was pregnant with the last…number 7, and my dad had been promoted um-teen times within the company he still works for…) I am overwhelmed. I’m such an underachiever! Not like it’s a contest, but I have a lot to live up to; a lot to strive for. That is what a hero is to me; someone to aspire to…something to strive (not stroll) towards. I don’t want 7 kids, and I don’t want to be a retail executive (OK, maybe a lower level executive…), but I want to be as committed as they are. I want to be as smart as they are. And I want to have a close and loving family like they created for us.

Trudging slowly over wet sand...

2005-10-08T23:59:00.000-07:00

After reading my cohorts' posts on the subject and all the comments, I think it's safe to say that everyone hates Mormon Sundays.

Sundays from my childhood were invariably headache days. The combination of getting up early, having only one big meal, and being cooped up in the house always gave me a headache. My parents never let us play outside on Sundays (with all of the other Mormon kids), so my siblings and I always associated Sunday with being miserable and stuck in a stuffy house playing game after game of Mastermind.

Like Kaycee, when I went inactive, I was amazed by this entirely new day that lay before me, ripe with possibilities: Saturday II. Instantaneously, my weekend doubled. That's tough to compete with. It'll be years before we're able to squeeze another day off into the week.

When trying to decide what feels right to do on Sundays, I think it's important to look back on the origin of Sabbath observance. The Sabbath was instituted after the Israelites were freed from bondage in Egypt. They went from having to work seven days a week (being slaves and all) to having a rest day. In fact, not only did they not have to work, they were prohibited from working on pain of death. As we can see, it was a pretty sweet deal for them. All they had to do on their day off was to remember who freed them from the Egyptians.

Think of how great those first Sabbaths must have been for the Israelites; the only time that came close for me was those first couple of Sundays with limitless possibilities. I think every Sunday should be more like that: a day of joy, feeling happy to be alive. I don't think we're doing the Lord any favors by dedicating a miserable day to him. I know this point often gets obscured in church, but God actually wants us to be happy. It's silly and counter-productive in my opinion to wear our suffering like a badge to prove how dedicated we are. Go out, have fun. Drive around. See a movie. (Trust me, no matter how many Mormons there are, the movies will always be open on Sunday. You're not making the projectionist work any more than s/he'd already have to.) Enjoy your free time, and thank God you're not making bricks for some guy in a silly headdress. That's what the Sabbath was originally about.

Whatever you do, don't force your kids to stay inside and play board games in their Sunday clothes. LET MY PEOPLE GO!

It's all fun and games until...

2005-10-07T05:07:00.000-07:00

My favorite Sabbath memories growing up are of going golfing with my father. Occasionally, if one of us was a little sick or just in need of Dad time, we would be allowed to go with him over to the Cecil Field Naval Air Base golf course. He played there every Sunday morning with his brother (Uncle Bill), an optician friend (Shorty), and some other guy I can't remember.

Playing golf with Dad never meant actually playing golf. It meant driving the golf cart, holding the flag, figuring out what the five-iron was, and getting a large styrofoam cup of hot chocolate and a bacon and egg sandwich, which you would pull apart so you could dip the toast into the chocolate. It meant a lot of time on the practice putting green while Dad and his buddies settled the debts made by the various bets made on the course. It meant listening to my Father curse and his friends tell slightly off-color jokes. It appears to me now as an ex-military late-50's Eden, where the lawn was always green, the mist clung to the ground in the cool mornings, deer would occasionally wander across the fairways, and squirrels would hang around for left over bits of breakfast. I miss sitting there, wrapped in my father's coat, as he zoomed along the little asphalt paths, up and down little man-made hills like it was a roller coaster.

Of course, this all happened before I knew I wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. This sort of activity isn't appropriate for the Sabbath, I have been assured. I never know how to believe that.

My father worked a lot and went to bed early. If we wanted to see him before school, we had to be up before 6 to catch a glimpse. During the week, we had homework (and TV) to keep us occupied, along the the various church functions. Saturday was usually busy with friends, school projects, the garden, chores, and the various things you do to get ready for Sunday. Sunday was for family. Family, in my family, has always meant games.

My wife marvels at this. My family cannot get together and talk without a deck of cards. Not all of our favorite family stories revolve around games of Oh Heck, Balderdash, or Tripoley, but quite a few do. When my brother and I talk, it is, more often than not, to discuss the fate of our fantasy football teams. The bulk of my relationship with a favorite aunt was developed over games of penny-ante poker. That I am close with my cousins at all is entirely due to the existence of face cards. We all play games together and while we play, we talk, joke, tease, murmur, mumble, and shout. I won't pretend that the more profound conversations I have had in life have occurred over a card table, but most of the ones I remember have.

I hated church growing up or, rather, I hated Sacrament Meeting. Long boring talks, slow minor-key hymns, and long uncomfortable seats do not make for happy Sunday memories. But I loved the Sabbath. It was the day my family played together. It was the day when we felt most like a family.

If the Sabbath is the day that we give back to the Lord, I don't know how it could be better spent.

What Constitutes Holy?

2005-10-06T12:22:00.000-07:00

I feel like a hypocrite when I say that I see that there is a benefit (to those who chose to do it) to keeping the Sabbath Day holy when it is not something I practice. I’m not against it, it’s just not something that I chose. Having said that, there is a lot of “busyness” on Sundays for church members who have “busy”callings, have teenagers with firesides, choir practice, stake meeting and other various church meetings that adds on a bunch to just a regular church schedule. I think that keeping the Sabbath Day holy takes on an entirely new meaning this day and age.

Sure, not everyone has a calling that demands so much of their time or has choir practice, firesides, etc. But we sure did growing up (and my parents and siblings still do.) With all the church meetings and activities, do you really have time for much holiness in the “keeping the Sabbath Day holy” equation?

I’m just throwing those out there for argument sake. Like Carrie Anne touched upon, the church is fairly vague about what keeping the Sabbath Day holy should mean to each member, besides the obvious. It’s up to each person of family to figure out what it means for them.

Personally, my only goal for Sundays is to be with my family. Spend as much time together as possible and get ready for another whirl-wind of a week. If we happen to need to go to the store, go to lunch with friends…so be it.

Holy Sabbath, Postman!

2005-10-04T21:22:00.000-07:00

So maybe I should've written about this last week, but the idea that keeping the Sabbath holy is some sort of fantastic life choice that makes life so much better is just a myth.

One of my favorite things about not being Mormon anymore is all of the free time! I love that I don't have to get up for church and I don't have to perform the duties of a calling (that I don't even like anyways). I like that I can split my shopping and relaxing time into two days.

That being said, I think a lot of people are keeping the idea of a holy Sabbath alive and well.

For instance, my husband's family gets together for breakfast or lunch every Sunday. My own family has monthly gatherings on Sunday. I work at a school and events are never planned for Sundays, even though there is "Saturday School" and occaisional service projects or field trips on Saturday.

Many employers still pay an increased wage on Sundays. Stores and shopping malls close early on Sundays. Nobody has a Sunday as their trash day (as in waste collection management). Banks are never, ever, ever open on a Sunday. Even the DMV and US Post Office take the day off.

Despite our modern way of treating Sunday as a second Saturday, there is a residual respect for it built into our way of doing business. This might not mean good things for me and my need to get things done, but I think it should still mean something to the rest of the God-fearing world.

Sundays With Sarah

2005-10-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

7:30 am - Wake Up, wake husband up.

7:40 am - "Quality Time" with husband.

8:10 am - Shower, primp, etc.

8:30 am - Breakfast (or if it's fast Sunday, smell things in the fridge.

8:50 am - Leave for church; argue about who gets to drive; ultimently win arguement again.

8:55 am - Arrive at church, sit in the same pew we've sat in since the first day in the ward.

9:00 am - Sacrament meeting - usually involves some eye rolling on my part and writing notes to my husband that read things like, "Is this guy SERIOUS????"; think about how hot Hell will be as I burn there.

10:10 am - Sunday School - usually, husband and I are so bored with the dry and Spiritless lesson that we write notes, name our hypothetical children or talk about what we're going to eat when we get home bringing us one step closer to Hell.

11:10 am - Relief Society - eye rolling and deep sighing continue as woman make me feel like there is no doubt I will be going to Hell; try to think that I'm almost there, and soon I will be home and able to eat.

12:02 pm - RUN into my husbands arms and RACE for the exit before anyone tries to talk to us.

12:07 pm - Get home, get out of church clothes, EAT!!!!!

12:30 pm - "Quality Time" with husband

1:30 pm - Nap

3:00 pm - Wake up, read book of choice, nibble on whatever looks good.

5:00 pm - begin making dinner (although, usually it's a crock pot dinner so I don't have to interupt my reading time)

7:00 pm - Dinner, discuss with husband the weird people at church, laugh heartily, think more about eternal damnation that is eminent

7:30 pm - husband plays video game, I watch TV or DVD

8:30 pm - husband joins me in living room, watch TV or DVD, make out like teenagers

10:00 pm - Go to bed.

11:04 pm - Sneak out of bed for something sweet.

11:15 pm - Return to bed, fall asleep and try not to dream about weird church people.

The Forgotten Commandment

2005-10-03T10:24:00.000-07:00

Lots of people who are not religious would say they follow the basic Christian-Judeo notion of the 10 commandments. I’m sure they are thinking of “Thou shalt not kill” or steal, or commit adultery…or at least they would generally frown upon such things, but “Keep the Sabbath day holy”? Maybe there should only be 9 basic commandments…

Mormons (and pretty much every other Christian denomination) regard Sunday as the “Sabbath”, meaning that they regard it as a holy day. On Sunday, we commemorate the 7th “day” of creation, or the “break” God took after he created the world. It is a day to be set aside to rest from our labors and worship God.

Mormons are a little different in how we treat Sundays. On the Sabbath, we generally refrain from such activities that involve work, or activities that would cause someone else to work on our behalf: shopping, attending movies or other performances or sporting events, participating in organized sports, etc. But it’s not only about “refraining” from work, it is about setting aside time to be still, to direct our thoughts to God and his plan and purposes, and a time to be reverent.

This does not mean we are encouraged to lie around all day (although it happens more often than not in my house). We are encouraged to plan constructive activities that would support the “no work/think about God” agenda while allowing us to spend time with family: attend church services, fulfill church callings and duties, spend quality time with the family, read scriptures, pray, take a walk and enjoy God’s creations, blog (that is my suggestion), write letters to loved ones and friends (catch up on email), take a nap, enjoy a hobby (arts and crafts, writing, anything calm I suppose), etc.

The church is officially pretty vague about what constitutes keeping the Sabbath day holy. This is intentional because it is a commandment that can get out of control. Think about those poor Hasidic Jewish women of Williamsburg, Brooklyn who have to contrive elaborate schemes of string and rope to be able to push a stroller to synagogue! I respect their determination to obey this commandment, but I think this is one thing that God let’s us figure out according to the dictates of our own conscience. I have noticed, however, that this topic comes up frequently in General Conference, but never with an absolute list of do’s and don’t’s (although shopping is often mentioned specifically).

Personally, I am grateful for the Sabbath. Growing up, it was the only day I was guaranteed to see my day for at least part of the day. And we often went to my grandparent’s house where we would all hang out and talk and play and eat my grandma’s weird marshmallow frosted cakes. It’s not that hard for us to plan ahead so that we don’t have to shop or do much on Sunday. I see the rest of the week as being for me and my needs, and I try to give the Lord one day in return (hey, like tithing!).

My one BIG issue with Sundays is that because I am “mentally confined” to the house, it is my best cleaning day! When we have 1pm church, I can get most of the house clean in that short amount of time. It’s magic! But I am trying to plan better so that Sunday doesn’t become my cleaning day, I want it to be my “rest from my labors” day, but it’s hard to rest when your house is a mess. I’m working on it…

Who's Got the Look?

2005-10-02T23:43:00.000-07:00

We have a new look here at VSoM and I hope you like it. I think the butterfly (a "Mormon Butterfly" if you can believe there are such creatures) is a universal icon of change and has very definative stages in its life.

If you do like the new look (showing appreciation for the creative venture and symbolism), or if you don't (because that bug never goes away--no matter how far down you scroll), you can comment here (as opposed to commenting on Carrie Ann's excellent Monday post).

And, although he introduced himself, we want to welcome Ned Flanders to the posting schedule and as well as wish JLS a fond farewell.

Paint a vulgar picture

2005-10-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

First of all, I want to thank everyone here at VSoM for having me. No one can replace JLS, but perhaps when you're reading my first post, my voice will be transformed into his, and you'll know that I am his true and destined successor, not JLS the third or Sidney Rigdon.

My favorite Mormon myth has already been mentioned in passing in the comments on John's post. Yes, I'll admit it: I believed the Del Parson's Jesus myth. Fortunately, no one knows my real name, so the teasing will sting much less.

Imagine for a moment being in the ninth grade in Utah, walking ten feet off school property to attend seminary between algebra and earth science class. Our overly-enthusiastic, fresh-off-the-mission seminary teacher is filling our heads with the gospel. Or at least what he believes is the gospel. His stories include such classics as Elders being killed at the beach on their P-day (divine retribution for breaking the rules or Satan controlling the water? You decide!), angels with flaming swords protecting the Sister missionaries from would-be rapists, and of course, missionaries in Harlem miraculously starting their car without a battery to escape muggers. Most kids at that age already have a built-in b.s. detector, but not me. I am soaking it all up uncritically as my seminary teacher tells us how the artist commissioned by the Church to paint a portrait of Jesus keeps getting his painting rejected by the Brethren. They say that it's not quite right, and tell him how to change it. Finally, he prays for inspiration and presents them with his final draft. The prophet says that it is the closest resemblance to the Savior that he has ever seen. And that picture is (drum-roll please)... the red-robed Jesus that we all know and love!

Pretty ridiculous, I know, but somehow it got swept up with everything else I was learning about the church and I never realized that it was a Mormon myth. When I was at the MTC, I was certain only to buy the picture of the red-robed Jesus for the cover of my discussions, because it was the only one that looked just like him! Very embarrassing.

The thing I love about this myth is the sheer presumptuousness of it. It's not enough to be the only church guided by Jesus, we also have to be the only church that knows exactly what he looks like. I think it also reveals a little bit of our inferiority complex. Mormonism has always had the rhetoric of a world religion but been stuck with the membership of a regional religion. We are always looking to grab on to something to ease the tension between our self-image (God's One and Only True Church) and the image others have of us (weird, small, Utah religion).

We must be in the right church. Our apostles can pick Jesus out of a line-up, like they were on Law & Order. "Number 4, please step forward." This myth also reveals our collective fantasy about the prophet and apostles: we desperately want to believe that they are having face-to-face time with the Savior. They never say anything about it (at least not for the last eighty years), so we cling to the belief that they just aren't telling us.

Sadly, nothing in life will ever be as simple as these myths, or more accurately, Mormon fantasies. Gordon B. Hinckley goes on Larry King and 60 Minutes and gives vague, wishy-washy, and maddeningly unsatisfying answers. We want him to be Moses, we want him to speak to God face to face. We don't want to hear about feelings and impressions; we want to hear how God warned him about 9/11 and the tsunami. So when we hear a story from the Sunday School President whose brother-in-law works at the Church Office Building and swears he was there when it happened, we feel our faith has been vindicated.

That's okay, we won't have to worry about these things for too much longer. I heard they aren't calling any more missionaries because the second coming will happen before they come back. Good thing Brigham Young constructed the foundation of the Salt Lake temple so that it can be lifted from above.

The Chosen

2005-09-30T08:05:00.000-07:00

I agree with Carrie Ann that the best Mormon myths are the celebrities that we somehow manage to imagine are Mormon. The reason why we do this may be related to what I consider my least favorite Mormon myth.

There is no place that really explicitly states my least favorite myth, but you see evidence of it everywhere. There is the "hanging by a thread" prophesy. There are things about this being an elect generation of youth. There is our persistent isolationism, coupled with the idea that everybody knows and cares about what we are doing. There is the notion that, in spite of the fact that BYU has a restrictive honor code and limited draw for big-time non-LDS football stars, it should have a perpetual top-25 (even top-10) football team. We think that we are chosen.

Perhaps I am still thinking about the foreordination posts from last week. Perhaps I am just tired of being a bit of a freak to people who think they know everything about me (JP's excellent post reminded me of many high school religion conversations). Maybe I've been engaged in Bloggernacle navel gazing too long. It just seems like if there is one group in the country that is absolutely certain that God likes us more, it is us.

There may be plenty of reasons for this feeling. We do believe that God blesses us on a regular basis individually (Elder Bednar's recent "tender mercies" talk is an excellent example of this notion). We also believe that blessings are somewhat dependent on our behavior. Since we behave well, and since our "pioneer ancestry" behaved well, it is possible that we believe that we have stored up sufficient good behavior to guarantee God's blessings on us.

This is the kind of thinking that got Israel overrun with Assyrians and Jerusalem destroyed by Babylonians and Romans. Chosen-ness does not mean that we are God's special task force, ready to step in whenever an area needs a spiritual beat-down. Chosen-ness doesn't mean that God will spare you because of how wonderful you are and how much more he likes you. If we are chosen, an idea that I am not entirely ready to grant, the kind of special treatment we receive is not the kind you want.

Let's take a look at a people whom we know were "chosen": The Israelites. There were the aforementioned Assyrians, Babylonians, and Romans. There are the years and years of anti-semitism, oh, and the Holocaust.

The chief sin behind all the earlier events seems to be pride (I won't speak of the Holocaust, because God hasn't discussed the Holocaust). The Israelites were convinced, because of numerous escapes in the past, that God really would protect them no matter what, that they really were the special ones. It is this tendancy that I see in modern Mormonism and it scares me.

You may say, "It is different for us, we have modern prophets." They had prophets speaking to them up to and including the moment that the invaders began to tear the temple down. You may reply, "But those people didn't listen to their prophets." According to the book of Jeremiah, Jeremiah was an advisor to King Zedekiah. The King chose to ignore his advice and you know the rest of the story.

I am not saying this to engage in fear-mongering. I hope that God chooses to spare us the kind of judgment that he has thusfar laid out on his chosen people, the Jews. Nonetheless, so long as we feel that we are already sufficiently righteous, sufficiently blessed, or sufficiently chosen, we face that same danger.

Getting back to Elder Bednar's talk (what with Conference this weekend and all), the lesson that we should learn from God's blessings isn't that we are chosen, it is that he loves us. No one receives any more or less of God's love by earning it. It, along with all of God's good gifts, is freely given to all who ask sincerely (and some who don't). If we are blessed, it is to remind us of our dependence on God and, thereby, to humble us.

This chosen thing. It worries me. Especially since we seem to believe that our isolation is what makes us chosen (much moreso than righteous acts). If you think the manner in which the Mormons will save the constitution will be with some sort of military coup or minority vote, I don't know what kind of constitution you will be saving. If you think it will be our shining example of goodness that we lead people to make the decision, then I'll need to see more goodness and less of the kind of thinking that brought Jerusalem down.

If we are chosen, if our wealth and our knowledge was intended to set us apart from the world, then our goal is to open ourselves up to others, not cut them off as dead weight. We shouldn't be a tower in the sky, forcing others to climb over each other to get to the blessings we enjoy. If we are meant to be lofty (an imputation that I might dispute), we are at least intended to stretch all the way down to the ground. There is room in our tower for all and as many doors as there are people wanting to get in.

Stupid Is As Stupid SAYS

2005-09-29T09:10:00.000-07:00

When I was in Jr. High…this kid on the bus found out I was Mormon and asked if I drank Kool-Aid. I gave him my “what the heck?” look and told him that yes, I drink Kool-Aid from time to time. Funny, but:

Mormons drink Kool-Aid
Mormons don’t have horns
Mormons are allowed to dance (not all of them CAN, though)
Mormons don’t WORSHIP Joseph Smith
Mormons are Christian (and therefore DO believe in Jesus Christ)
Mormons DO believe in God
Mormons DO NOT belong to a cult
Mormons are NOT satanic worshipers

And those are just a FEW Mormon myths that I have either heard are been accused of. I had a very upsetting conversation with a very Christian man after he found out I was Mormon…and that I wasn’t active. He actually said to me, “So the Good Lord pulled you out of that.” And then when I was too stunned to respond he continues, “You know, because they don’t believe in Jesus Christ.”

And then I found my voice.

“Actually, Mormons DO believe in Jesus Christ.”

“No, I’ve done a lot of research, and they don’t”

“I grew up Mormon….they do indeed believe in Jesus Christ.”

“I didn’t grow up Mormon, and I KNOW they believe in Jesus Christ.” Said Non-Mormon husband there.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but…no they don’t. You can read (name
dropping Christians that I have no clue who they are) and listen to them speak
on how un-Christian they are.”

Do to me being UTTERLY SHOCKED by this man who was arguing with me about a faith grew up in, I wish I could’ve gathered my thoughts better and yelled:

DUDE! The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter Day Saints….are you STUPID OR SOMTHIN’?!

But that probably wouldn’t have been the best approach either. But where do people get these ideas???? I know there are anti-Mormon groups everywhere who just might sit around and make these kinds of myths up…but WOW. I don’t know about you, but I kinda like to know what the heck I’m talking about SO I DON’T LOOK STUPID.

But, maybe I’m just asking to much of people…

Punchline = Polygamy

2005-09-28T00:40:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I have not attended church in more than three years, every time I hear a Mormon polygamy reference as a joke punchline, I am literally up in arms. You should see it... my arms go up, my jaw drops down, and I look at who ever is nearby--sometimes this is the dog--in utter disbelief.

I realize that most of the people making these jokes probably know that Mormons (mainstream, not Fundamentalist) don't practice polygamy anymore, but I just can't help becoming aghast each and every time.

Of course, maybe I just see more of it than most people. I do watch a lot of Stand-Up, but the topic also hits mainstream in a lot of sitcoms and some dramas.

My husband recently learned much more about Mormons and the LDS faith through reading Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer. Although much of it focuses on two Mormon Fundamentalists who committed murder "on God's orders" in 1984, Krakauer also gives an extensive history of the founding of the church. Apparently he gives information that is balanced with both the official LDS accounts and the "anti-Mormon" accounts. Since the book spent a number of weeks on the New York Times Best seller list in 2003, the concept of Mormons & polygamy spent some more time in the spotlight.

I sincerely doubt that the association between polygamy and Mormons will go away any time soon. I do wonder, however, if that would improve if polygamists were prosecuted, taking away the appearance of acceptance by the state government in Utah.

Horny Mormons

2005-09-27T10:34:00.000-07:00

When my mothers oldest sister was born, the first thing the midwife did was check her head for horns because she knew my grandmother was Mormon. Apparently, a common myth about Mormons was they were born with horns, and removed them in infancy. Needless to say, the midwife was shocked that my aunt was horn free and asked my grandmother if she was a PRACTICING Mormon. My grandmother said she was indeed practicing, and yet ANOTHER Mormon Myth was laid to rest.

My mom grew up in a SMALL town in Nevada and during her adolecence her goal in life was to get into the town newspaper. You think it wouldn't take much, but apparently it did. She and her friends did several INSANE things (I beileve stealing a car or tractor or something was one of their stunts) that did NOT land in the colums of the local newspaper. My favorite attempt that didn't make it was when they painted the highway leading into town. My mother recalled the story of her sister being checked for horns and the ditty some of the local kids sang (Lyrics: You can see by my horns I'm a Mormon/I can tell by your horns you're not a Mormon/But if you join us and be Mormon/ Then you can be horny too.) she painted "Welcome to the Home of the HORNY MORMONS" at the entrance to town. I can honestly tell you that my mother had no idea that "horny" might have meant ANYTHING other than to have horns. I have SO many stories like THAT that I could share. Anyway, the point is, I've seen quite a few new born "Mormon" babies, and they have all been horn free. I would LOVE to know how that rumor got started though.

As for my mom, she finally made it into the paper the summer before her senior year of high school. Her boyfriend was an archiology major and they were hoofing around in the desert one day and found a full skeleton. They took it put it in at the public swimming pool with a beer can full of flowers over it. They never got caught, and she still has the newspaper clipping. THIS is why I fear raising my children in a small town. ;)

Favorite Myth? That Would Have to Be Myth Drrty Girl Herself

2005-09-26T06:14:00.000-07:00

I’m in New Hampshire on vacation. I miss the East Coast like a long lost family member. But that is neither here nor there… My favorite Mormon myth would have to be all the false celebrities that have “converted” or been taught the gospel by “missionaries in my mission.”

We visited this subject a little while back. And while I hope that we get to hear from some other post-ers and commentators on their fave doctrinal myths of Mormondom, I will take the easy road (because I am out of my element and far from my library) and write about my favorite Mormon celebrity: Christina Aguilera.

She is my favorite not because she exemplifies all things “Mormon”; quite the opposite…I get a kick out of how “un-Mormon” she has become.

This is how the myth began: there was a girl in my major in collage who is not the type to fall prey to exaggerated stories or hyperbole. She was down to earth and honest. She claimed that Christina grew up in her ward in Pennsylvania (from all that I know of Miss Drrty from “Behind the Music” this is true…). Christina’s parents met at Brigham Young University, of all places, her father being from Ecuador.

My friend is older than Christina so she wasn’t close friends with her, but she said that Christina would sing in church sometimes. Can you imagine that? That’s like the time my sister’s friend was investigating the church and was singing in sacrament meeting being totally distracted by the woman singing behind her…it was Gladys Knight.

So Christina has been baptized. But that doesn’t mean much in the biz these days. Brittney Spears was probably baptized a Southern Baptist, and now she’s into Kabala, she even claims to “read Hebrew, although I don’t know what every word means…” Poor celebrities…at least they have the Church of Oprah and Madonna to look to…

Who is your favorite Mormon “celebrity” (real or alleged)?

is it really so strange?

2005-09-24T09:17:00.000-07:00

I don’t think about foreordination often because 1) Most of the accepted Mormon Doctrine on this topic strikes me as ranging from best guesses to crazy ruminations and 2) Whenever I start to think about it I’m reminded of the conversations certain associates would try to have with me when they were very stoned.

“Many are called but few are chosen.” I don’t think that has anything to do with a specific calling or position. All are called unto Christ, but few respond, and so few are chosen. Actual foreordination, maybe it happens. Maybe some are destined to do certain things and there’s nothing anyone can do to change it. One of my friends in high school—he was destined to be our school’s all time star athlete and no amount of cutting class, cheating on tests, sleeping with the English teacher’s daughter, or drinking alcohol on school grounds was going to keep him from meeting that destiny; and by association it meant that I never got busted for anything either, which was cool.

Even if some do have a specific calling, were foreordained. Who cares? Whatever the heck you have to do in your life, it isn’t any less or any more important than what anyone else is “called” to do. Bottom line, God is no respecter of persons. Could be the Prophet, the President, Bill Gates or some shmoe, toiling away unnoticed in China, Sweden, or the Amazon jungle, they aren’t any less or any more important than you, and what you do with your life isn’t any less or any more important that what they do with theirs. Except for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. I’m pretty sure that everyone reading this is more important than Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. But not George Clooney. He’s kind of cool and dare I say, for a man, he’s kind of sexy, even if he did turn in the lamest Batman performance ever. And Ocean’s Eleven and Twelve, not that great, but he’s got Out of Sight and Confessions of a Dangerous Mind backing him up, and that goes a long way.

And that’s the end of my last post here at VSoM. People come and go in the bloggernacle and it’s time for me to go. By way of a brief explanation, recently I’ve felt that I need to focus my energy elsewhere so that’s what I’m doing. Various Stages of Mormondom, and the bloggernacle in general, have had a positive influence on my life and my views toward God and the church. Thanks to Rebecca, for inviting me to post here, and to the VSoM crew for letting me stay, and thanks to those who have added to the discussion with their comments. I’m especially appreciative of the amiability and respect that exists at VSoM despite the differences in opinion and belief. My successor takes over next week, a man whose shoes I am not worthy to polish. I’m sure you’ll enjoy what he has to say.

I knew that this would be a hard post

2005-09-23T10:47:00.000-07:00

The truth is that I avoid thinking about foreordaination. If it is true or if it ain't, there simply isn't a thing that I can do about it. However, there are plenty of other such things about which I will passionately debate, so I am sure that it is sheer cowardice that keeps me from facing the problems that come up with this doctrine.

I am very interested with the variety of responses that this topic has drawn out of us thus far. The accident of birth, the reality of evil, the serendipity of love, and the importance of agency have all been covered. What else could I add?

The problem of foreordaination seems to hinge on the problem of a fixed future. If the end is fixed, as we believe it is, does that make the path fixed also? There is a powerful tendancy to believe this. I am not sure that it is helpful, but it may be inevitable.

The consequence of a fixed future is that individuals are just the means to gain the end. Even if anyone could be a Joseph Smith or a Judas, someone has to be both. Or do they?

Are the questions of foreordaination just another conceit of human pride? Do we know that it had to be the way it was? By this, I am not suggesting that there are versions of the plan that do not feature our Fall, that much seems certain; without a Fall, how do we get an Atonement? Rather, why is it that, just because the Atonement played out a particular way in our world, we assume that the path taken to get there was the only possible path?

I am not saying that it isn't; I am saying that we, ultimately, don't seem to know. If all that we agree on is that the end is fixed (which we do, in the church at least), then anything further that we might come up with is just speculation (barring revelation, of course).

Part of the reason why we assume that this is the only path is that we have assumptions about God. In particular, while we believe that there is a necessary amount of suffering necessary for the Plan to work, we believe that a loving, omnisicent, and omnipotent God would only allow that amount and not a drop more. This operates in a nice parallel with the idea of the fixed ending (God allows suffering up to level A, after which the cup of the sinner is full and they are wiped off the face of the earth). Ultimately, it doesn't matter how you get there, just that you do.

Unfortunately, the only amount of suffering that seems to be fixed is Christ's and that was set at infinite. There does not appear to be an end to suffering in this life; arguably, it is one of God's greatest tools for getting us to turn to Him. Not that he causes it, but he clearly doesn't always prevent it when he theoretically could.

Foreordaination is disturbing because it causes us to examine what role God plays in our life and what role we play. Much like the recent hurricanes, it reminds us how little our life is of our own making. Although how we choose to deal with the life we have is entirely up to us, the random acts of kindness and destruction that we encounter enforce a situation where all our plans are tentative. While the Plan has a fixed future, we rarely seem to.

Perhaps this is for the best. Uncertainty, like suffering, can bring us to God and that seems to be the end for which our lives should be destined anyway.

I Like the Simple Explanations

2005-09-22T21:34:00.000-07:00

I've had the day from HELL. Not that you necessarily care but it certainly got me thinking about this week's topic. OH...that and it' s reason that I'm so incredibly late in posting.

I believe that the very reason we are all on this earth is because of choice. Everyone has choices in their life and I believe that our choices ultimately make us who we are. I still think that we have our free will to choose...but I also think that God has plans for us all. A PLAN for what he thinks we should become or accomplish. Some may be more specific than others...but who knows.

I've used this example before, but it fits here too:

Every day I plan out what I need to do in my planner. I have a PLAN of how I want my day to go and what I want to accomplish. I don't need to tell you that my plan does not always work how I had planned. I make choices that my get me off track...and others in my life make choices that could affect how I carry out my plans. There are potentially many obstacles that get in the way of my plans. But the PLAN is still there. Could it be that our lives just have a plan they follow? That somehow Heavenly Father knows our fullest potential and has a plan for what we would or will become?

Maybe I have a naive way of looking at foreordination, but I just don't think that our free agency would be comprimised to carry out a specific plan. Jesus Christ had a very specific plan on this earth. He was sent to this earth for such a reason, it boggles the mind. And even thoughh his life was part of Heavenly Father's plan...he still had his agency to choose the path to follow.

This is how I see it. It just makes sense to me.

Foreordination and Agency Don't Mix

2005-09-21T00:13:00.000-07:00

Not only is foreordination completely unfair, it's also completely ridiculous.

I'm going to be honest here--I never bought into foreordination. I never could resolve the issues of foreordination vs. choice. Either God was omnipotent and foreordained certain people for certain things, knowing what they would do, thereby taking the choice away from someone, or we really did have a choice.

That was so convoluted. Let me boil it down.

Say God has foreordained Johnny to become a great leader of the church... a general authority, even. Johnny doesn't know this, but God does because he knows everything, right? So, does Johnny have the agency NOT to be a general authority? According to the doctrines of the Church he does... but does he REALLY? Maybe theoretically, but not really.

Likewise, can someone be foreordained to do evil? Was Satan foreordained to start the big war in heaven? I'm sure God wouldn't want to pick someone out to do bad things, but if he knows what's going to happen (as an omnipotent being should), then he knows. Maybe he knows, but he just doesn't bring it up. If he did, the same thing would apply... someone would have to be the bad guy and not have any choice about it.

Which brings me to a great flaw in this whole design... God's great plan for everyone to try out life on their own on earth... it required a bad guy, right? So wasn't he just setting up the stage for someone to be the ultimate evil? I mean, his creation of the plan was dependent on people learning to choose and being responsible for thier choices, right? Well, there had to be a choice and that's where Satan came in. So was Satan foreordained to hold that position? Someone had to do it or the plan wouldn't have worked. It's pretty messed up to have a plan where someone has to become the ultimate evil.

You see where I get skeptical about foreordination? If it does exist, I don't want to believe in God.

The Circle Of Our Love

2005-09-20T12:48:00.000-07:00

I think in terms of forordination it might be easier to tell you what I DON'T believe as aposed to what I DO believe.

First of all... I don't believe in forordination in the ways it is explained in this popular LDS film.

I don't believe that there is only ONE person who you promised yourself to in the pre-existance who will know you on sight and pick you up and twirl you around and sing to you at your first earthly meeting.

I do believe that Heavenly Father has people in mind for us to be not only married to (though, let's be honest, that is pretty darn important) but also people for us to be surrounded by. That includes our family and friends. Do I think my family and I stood in the pre-existance and sang a song together before my brother made his way on down to earth? No, I don't. But I do know that each of my siblings was meant to be a part of my family. None more clearly than my older brother who is adopted. I don't care that his blonde with blue eyes and I am brown from head to toe, I don't care that out genetics are different, THAT is my brother. He was supposed to be my brother. It was forordained.

Carrie Ann brought up an interesting topic when she spoke of the where and to whom we are born part of this earthly existance. And while I was born into a family that was LDS, and lived in the States it certinally doesn't mean that I was more vailient in the pre-existance or that life would be better for me somehow. I actually suspect that Heavenly Father knew me well enough to know that I probably wouldn't have chosen the Church if I hadn't grown up with it. (Have you ever been NEAR a margarita? How could I give up THAT if I'd had the chance to have it ;) ) And I didn't grow up in a family with parents who had strong testimonies and read the scriptures to us and had family prayer. Actually, quite the opposite. But, again, that was what I needed. That was what I needed so I could make my own choice, a choice that no one else in my family really made - I chose to live my religion as faithfully as I could. There have, of course, been moments when I have not done my best at that, but I was (am) able to apply the atonement in my life, and pick myself up and move on - move toward the things I am meant to do.

Foreordination: is it fair?

2005-09-19T00:17:00.000-07:00

I suggested this question because I have had personal issues with aspects of the topic of foreordination.

Here’s the official lowdown:

Going along with the last week’s theme of life beyond this life…we touched upon the fact that we believe we were created by God the Father in spirit form and we lived in his presence before we were born to live on earth:

“To carry forward his own purposes among men and nations, the Lord foreordained chosen spirit children in pre-existence and assigned then to come to earth at particular times and places so that they might aid in furthering the divine will. These pre-existence appointments, made ‘according to the foreknowledge of God the Father’ (1 Peter 1:2), simply to perform mission which the Lord in his wisdom knew they had the talents and capacities to do.”
--Bruce R. McConkie (Sorry, I use him a lot, but he gives really concise definitions.)

The scriptures are full of examples of the Lord having a specific purpose in mind for his children. McConkie and Alma are careful to point out the role of agency in this principle:

“In all this there is not the slightest hint of compulsion; persons foreordained to fill special missions in mortality are as abundantly endowed with free agency as are any other persons. By their foreordination the Lord merely gives them the opportunity to serve him and his purposes if they choose to measure up to the standard he knows they are capable of attaining.” –Bruce R. McConkie (see also Alma 13:3-9)

I can accept all of that just fine. It seems logical that God, knowing us so well, would have specific “tasks” in mind for us, if we choose to do so. This principle is not to be confused with FATE or DESTINY. It’s a little more subtle than that. Maybe I’m uncomfortable with the idea that fate or destiny takes away my agency somehow, but we are ALL foreordained to return to our Heavenly Father.

My previous issues with foreordination are somewhat related to that idea although they are a little more on a tangent; they stemmed from the ponderings of why I was born to the family I was born to, in this time, in this country, yada yada yada. I consider myself to be EXTREMELY fortunate: I have a great family, I have a wonderful husband, we have plenty of food, clothing, and more than adequate shelter…so why did I deserve to be born here and now when so many billions of others were born into poverty and ignorance. I felt that I did not deserve the millions of blessings that have been granted to me because of my unworthiness to receive them. This isn’t to say that good things can’t happen to bad people, and bad things can’t happen to good people. There is SO much in life that is put into motion through random acts of agency… On a bigger scale, I wondered “why me”?

It was during a self-pitiful conversation with my dad just a few months ago when he shed some light on the topic for me. I was expressing my foreordination quandary of “why me” and “it’s not fair” when my dad gave me a new perspective on the topic. He explained that our existence can be broken down into a three-legged journey: pre-existent life with God our creator, mortal life here on earth, and life after death. We believe that we had certain strengths and weaknesses in the pre-existence according to our unique creation by God. The scriptures tell us that some spirits were “noble and great” (Abraham 3:22-23) and some spirits were weak and/or disobedient and were cast out of God’s presence along with Lucifer.

In the LDS faith, we believe there was a “war” in heaven: one “team” supported Heavenly Father and his plan to send Jesus Christ to be an example and a savior, the glory being reserved for the Father, and the other “team” supported Satan and his plan to “compel” us to be obedient, keeping all of the glory for himself and giving none to God. (Moses 4:1-4) We, as spirit children had the opportunity to participate in this “war” (most likely it was a war of words and influence seeing as how none of us had bodies yet). Some spirits were valiant and strong supporters of God’s plan, others were just as strong for Satan, which left a lot of fence-sitters and lukewarm believers in either camp.

We had the chance in the pre-existence to show our devotion and faithfulness to God, which is part of our eternal progression. I kind of always had the impression that we all started with a clean slate when we were born, things had been “reset”, and that was why I thought it was so unfair that I was foreordained to come here, now.

My dad patiently pointed out that it would have been unfair after all the chance we had to prove our loyalty and obedience, for everyone to start out at the same place. That would have invalidated the purpose of the great plan, which is choice/agency and progression. How I live my life here on earth will put me further along, or further away, from my goal of returning to God. When I die, that simply ends the second leg of the three-leg journey.

Would it be fair if I strove to live the commandments the best I could in this life only to be “reset” after death? No. Neither would it have been fair to do that after the pre-existence leg.

So can I sit back and enjoy my privileged life because I earned it? Heavens, no! We also believe in the LDS faith that “unto whom much is given, much is required.” Those of us who were born into “wealth” and a knowledge of the Gospel have a responsibility to share both with others. We must! We are commanded to, just incase we are not inclined to do so naturally. My responsibility in life toward my fellow men is that much greater because of the blessings I have been given. I have made some decisions in my life directly based on that principle serving a full-time mission, for example.

The point is that this isn’t a race, and we’re not being compared to one another. We are not being graded on a curve here. There is room in “heaven” for everyone. We were all created with the potential and foreordained to do what we need to do to make it back. I hope and pray that we all do…

Cemetery Gates

2005-09-17T11:24:00.000-07:00

Going back to my mission days, the first discussion covered The Plan of Salvation and part of the plan was that if we lived right we could return to live with Our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I remember thinking, every time we went over it, I thought, I don’t really care about returning to God after I die, I just want to be with my family and friends. For me, heaven could only be glorious and marvelous if my family and friends were in it. And I believed that’s how things would be, if I lived right.

A few years ago we lost our son. I was devastated and that Mormon comfort that most everyone seems to get after losing someone, that comfort in knowing that in the next life angels would be singing the soundtrack from “Together Forever” and everyone would be reunited and happy and do whatever it is you do in heaven--I never got that comfort--though I desperately wanted it. I received no confirmation of any of it.

I don’t debate it much anymore. I think we have a natural inclination to believe there is an afterlife. In casual thought, sure, I believe. When I really start to think about it I realize that I don’t have any reason to believe. I just don’t debate it anymore.

The afterlife used to hang before me like a Celestial carrot, leading me on to do good, sacrifice, improve myself so that I could receive my reward, and be with those that I love. Now I see that doing good, sacrifice, improving myself are their own reward, and bring rewards in this life. Living the gospel has brought me to enjoy life more fully, enjoy the company of others more fully. If we live on after we die, all the better; but I’m not holding my breath

Veiled Speech

2005-09-16T16:41:00.000-07:00

I feel it important to note initially that no-one terribly important to me has passed away. I have lost two grandparents, but I wasn't close with either one (in one case, because she was long gone while she still lived; in the other, because he was kind of a mean old coot and sometimes quite unpleasant to be around). The closest I have come to losing a close loved one was watching the lingering death of one of my wife's great uncles. At one point, he lived in the house with us and I would hear loud thumps in the night and have to rush upstairs to help him up off the floor. Later, after I moved away, he fell into dementia and fever. When my in-laws could no longer take care of him, he became bitter, lashing out at those who had taken care of him. When he passed on, it was hard to remember the genial gentleman who loved to tell me about his mission in the 20's because he had accused my mother-in-law (the saintliest person I know) of trying to cheat him out of money and cheese.

Mormons love to pride themselves on their vast knowledge of the afterlife. Most likely, this is entirely due to the influence of section 76, which does presume to tell us where we will all wind up (depending on our actions here on earth). To be honest, I don't find it nearly as explicit as most people seem to. While, I don't believe Dante is the equivalent of Joseph Smith, I do think that Catholic beliefs about the afterlife are clearer than our own (though, perhaps, slightly more complicated).

I have a father who isn't a member of the church. The family I grew up in isn't sealed. My father is in his 70's now, the age at which one reads obituaries, even in towns where you don't know anyone. His mortality is beginning to concern him; it has always concerned me. I don't know why my Dad isn't religious exactly. He will pray, but he doesn't like to do it. He has said that if he were to join a religion, it would be ours, but I know that he is very suspicious of our religion.

Recent study has convinced me that some commonly held LDS ideas about the afterlife are wrong. Specifically, I have come to believe that the time of our probation extends into the afterlife. We can repent up until the point where we are resurrected, I think. This gives me hope for my dad.

Perhaps this strikes you as defeatist or condescending. On my mission, I got fed up with my father. I wrote him a long letter, explaining why he ought to find out if the church is true and trying to answer any possible concerns that he might have had. The letter got enveloped, stamp, and began the journey to the mail box. On the way, I was told not to send it. I was told that the rush wasn't great, that I had to be patient. My father's relationship with God and religion is complex. I see now that I hastily written, if heartfelt, letter was not going to do away with his questions.

I have a notion regarding my father's ambivalence to religion. His father died when he was thirteen. He loved his Dad. His father's death disrupted his whole family. It changed his relationship with his mother, sisters, and brothers. I imagine my father pleading with God in prayer for his father's life, for his family. I don't blame my dad for his skepticism.

There is probably nothing more emotionally affecting than the death of a close loved one. The hope that the Gospel brings is actually fairly universal (your beloved has gone to a better place seems to be a religiously ubiquitous response to death). Unfortunately, that can only do so much for the benefit of the people who remain in this not-better place, dealing with a life that is clearly worse for the loss.

To those people, what can we offer? A testimony that helps me through tough times cannot be given to another. While I find answers in the gospel, they are of the sort that cannot be spelled out. And besides, I admit to never having suffered great loss. It is likely that I would find the gospel's answers inadequate (and possibly offensive), too.

It is a universal problem of those in pain that they can never be understood. Interestingly, testimony and pain are both lost in transmission. The best we who haven't lost can do seems to me to be to be there when the grieving need us and to get out of the way when they need to be left alone.

Somehow, we have gone this week from talking about life after death (of which we know very little) to death, which even I understand is painful. Perhaps this is appropriate. The dead, we believe, have gone beyond the veil of mortal interest and mortal care. It is the living whom we must help.

Sometimes It's Okay Not to Have All the Answers

2005-09-15T11:26:00.000-07:00

I find it highly ironic that oftentimes, since VSofM was started, the topics coincide with certain struggles or experiences that I am having. I would be kidding myself (and all of you) if I said that I had no clue as to why that might happen. Through whatever stage of Mormondom I happen to be at, I have never stopped believing in a loving God. There have been times when I question my faith, my beliefs, what I stopped believing, what I started believing…but I never questioned whether or not I believed in God. Having said that, at this time I am struggling, you might say, on how I feel about what will/may happen once our time on earth is through.

About four years ago, a 15 year old boy named Ian took his own life because he felt there was no other way out. Also around that same time, one of my dearest friend’s dad very unexpectedly (he was in perfect health) collapsed and passed away. These two people did not go to church or have any religion that they were believers of. I honestly don’t know if they believed in God or not.

I struggled much with Ian’s death. I used to baby-sit him and his brother. And while it was obvious that Ian struggled with much and had several mental issues all his life, it was still such a shock and so upsetting and I struggled with the thought of him not only taking his own life, but what would happen to him in the afterlife. So did Ian’s mom. My friend, who is a devout and very faithful Christian, struggled even more with the thought of her dad not accepting Christ before his died. She believes that you won’t have another chance once you pass on from this earth and was just sick with worry about his salvation.

Obviously, none of us 100% sure what happens when our life here on earth is complete. But for those two people who, it would appear, had no faith in God to speak of, was that the end? Did their chance pass? Especially because Ian committed suicide. Many people believe they can’t be “saved” from that point on.

Those deaths, especially Ian’s, bothered me so much that Sarah sent me a story that a LDS writer, Robert Farrell Smith, wrote after his sister committed suicide. He struggled with some of the very same thing that I mentioned and went through so much trying to deal and accept the death of his sister and to also try and get a handle on what happens after we die. In a dream, he saw his sister sitting next to him in the church they grew up in. With her arm around him she said, "Don't worry, Heavenly Father has it all figured out."

I know that I don’t have all the answers. I do find comfort and strength and put my faith in the fact that Heavenly Father does have it all figured out. At the end of Mr. Smith’s story he says,
“I also know that it's up to me to … understand that Heavenly
Father has it all figured out. Not in ignorance, but in awe. We're
lucky to be alive. I can't wait to see what happens."

What the %*@# Do I Know?

2005-09-14T00:01:00.000-07:00

Part of being a former Mormon/current agnostic is becoming comfortable with the fact that you just don't "know" that much. I used to "know" things... like that God existed and Joseph Smith was a true prophet and that families are forever. I don't know that now--but that hasn't really changed who I am--so whatever the afterlife holds, I think I'll be okay with it.

Last Saturday night we had some people over for a game night and a friend of my brother-in-law was talking about his religious beliefs (Catholic) and why he was sticking with it and not going to another religion. He said, "Did you know that Jehovah's Witnesses believe in 3 heavens and Mormons believe in 7?" Now, both of these statements are false and and I don't even know where this guy came up with it. I set him straight on the Mormon front, and apparently the Jehovah's Witnesses believe that if you aren't saved (and you've got to be one of them to be saved), you just get anihilated and cease to exist.

While I was looking that information up, I glanced over what other Christian denominations believed, started reflecting on the various beliefs of the Ancient Greeks, Egyptians and Hindus. Everyone who believed in these religions believed that they knew what was going to happen to them after they died. The thing is... you only find out once you get there, and then it's too late.

Now, before you start lecturing me with, "I'm glad I don't have to wait to find out... I already KNOW," I'm going to say "Good for you!" If you know and you're happy and cool with it... rock on. Just keep in mind that all of those Greeks who built Temples to Athena KNEW she'd be watching out for them. Maybe you really have the "right religion," but you won't really know 'til you get there.

This Is Not The End

2005-09-13T15:27:00.000-07:00

When I was 5 years old my youngest sister died. She never came home from the hospital, in fact, she didn't live long enough to come out of my mother. She was stillborn. I remember the excitment that had built up waiting for her to be born. We were all so excited for the new addition to our family. But instead of bringing home a baby, my parents brought home a lot of heartache and the only evidence there has been of the little girl who never made it to our home, her footprint on a peice of paper with her name Megan Lee written above it in my mother's shakey script.

I remember the funeral. I remember my little sister figeting next to me, the songs that were sung, the little white casket, the way my mother couldn't stop weeping. I remember the years after her death where my family tried to rebuild itself from the emotional rubble that was left after such a terrible heart break nearly destroyed us. I remember visiting her grave in my youth, and being scared and sad. And I remember going to that same grave as a grown-up and thinking about the sister I didn't get to grow up with but who, someday, I will get to know because of the first thing I can remember: my family being sealed for eternity in the temple.

The first memory I have is of walking into a sealing room in the Oakland temple, seeing my parents and thinking how pretty my mom looked, and then being sealed to them - being bound to them for eternity.

A few weeks ago I walked out of that same temple, but this time I walked out sealed to a new family, a family that is organic to me and my husband. I walked out of that temple with a promise, that if I do the things I know are right, if I make my best efforts, and recognize and repent when I don't - because I won't always do the right or best thing - then I get to be with my husband and the family we'll create forever. I don't have to worry about never seeing him or my children again. I will get to hold his hand for eternity. And I love that. I love that I don't have to worry about never meeting my sister, we will have an eternity to get to know each other. There has never been anything that has made more perfect sense to me than the gospel of eternal families.

I know there is life after death, I know the sealing power of the temple is real, I know family is not just a here and now thing, it's a forever thing... and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Until Death Do Us Part…Not

2005-09-12T10:14:00.000-07:00

“—At death the eternal spirit merely steps out of the mortal tabernacle and enters a world of waiting spirits to await the day of resurrection. The spirit, which lived before in pre-existence, lives on after death. In this sense, there is no death and there are no dead. Our departed fellow mortals only seem dead unto us because they have gone in to another realm of existence where we can no longer see and associate with them.” Bruce R. McConkie “Mormon Doctrine”

Another timely subject. I attended a funeral last Friday. The son of my former employers accidentally mixed incompatible drugs and suffered cardiac arrest. It was a truly sad occasion because he was young and it was an accident, but the funeral was uplifting, inspiring, and full of love.

This young man came from a good family, not unlike many of your families: siblings loved each other and supported one another, and the parents were kind, stable, and loved their kids unconditionally. So the general theme of the day was: “David, we love you, and we will be with you again.”

LDS doctrine says that we were created in spirit form by our Heavenly Father long before we came to this earth. We all lived together in the presence of God: everyone who has ever lived, everyone living now, and everyone who has yet to come. A plan was set forth whereby we would have the opportunity to gain a physical body, like God’s, and to be tested. Without getting too into it, we accepted the plan to follow our brother, Jesus Christ, as he would also come down and gain a body and be an example for us as to what we need to do to return to Heavenly Father.

We should try and emulate Christ’s life, and we will also emulate the pattern of his death. We, too, will die as he did which means that our spirits (the essential part of us that makes us US) will separate from our bodies (which were made by our parents) and will go dwell in a temporary realm (the spirit world) until the time bodies and our spirits are again united (resurrection). The New Testament documents Christ’s death and resurrection (the Gospels document this as part of the story of Christ’s life and then allude to it throughout the epistles), and the Book of Mormon gives us a little more insight into the specifics of resurrection and its purpose (Alma and Amulek talk with Zeezrom in Alma chapter 11, and Alma’s father/son talk with Corianton in Alma chapters 39-42).

Mormon doctrine also tells us that the temporary place, called the spirit world, is not up in the sky, it is not down below, it is here all around us; a thought that makes me feel slightly claustrophobic. There are “good” and “bad” spirits around us pretty much all the time. We are taught that the spirits who followed Satan’s plan, the ones who will never receive bodies because they forfeited the right when they chose to be disobedient, they are here, too. I’m sure that most of you have had an experience where you felt an “evil” presence that frightened or terrified you. On the flip side, I’ll wager that most of you have also felt comforted by what you perceived as the presence of a loved one in a time of need. This is evidence of life beyond death.

The fact that we can feel a spiritual presence, the Holy Ghost, lays wide open the possibility of other spiritual beings being able to communicate with us spiritually. Some peoples (the tribe of Manasseh, for example) have innate spiritual gifts that make them sensitive to things of a spiritual nature. Have you ever wondered why peoples of the tribe of Manasseh always seem to claim to see saints and visions and other seemingly extraordinary things? Just a thought…

I think this post warrants a testimony. I believe that it’s true, that we lived before this life, and we will live again after this life. I believe it’s true because during times when I have grieved for a loved one who has passed on, I have felt a comfort beyond that which I could myself produce that assured me that my loved one was “alive”; an assurance that I would see that person again. These feelings come through the influence of the Holy Ghost, and when the Holy Ghost testifies, I know it comes from God.

We are taught that if we are faithful to the commandments and to the covenants we make to God in the temple, we can be with our families and our loved ones forever…not until “death do us part.” If this isn’t the greatest motivation to be faithful and true, I don’t know what is…besides maybe pure love of God. But until I get to that point…I’ll do it for my family.

Barbarism Begins at Home

2005-09-10T10:20:00.000-07:00

I don’t have much to add. Mormonism will always be haunted by a tendency to judge and show contempt for others. A comment was made under JP’s post linking this judgment and contempt to pride. I’d never thought about it like that before, but I think it’s spot on. Is it possible to say, “this is the one true church,” without being lifted up in pride? Is it necessary, essential that we repeat that so often, even if it is true? I also wonder if this phrase, and others like it, haven’t become a vain repetition. The skeptic in me thinks that The Spirit doesn’t bear witness that “this is the one true church” very often; rather, that the teachings are true, that The Gospel is true, that joining the church or remaining active is the right thing to do. But I could be wrong.

A close friend of mine argues that discussions such as this damage the church. I disagree. Being on the receiving end of wrong judgment and hypocrisy, in my youth I nearly left the church. I can’t give numbers, but I know life-long non-members in Utah who have experienced prolonged Mormon unfriendliness, often in their youth. This doesn’t only happen in Utah, but the critical mass of members in that state makes hypocrisy and wrong judgment a more expedient danger. Some areas, in and out of Utah, show very little of this hypocrisy. How do they do it?

Watch Out For the Stones

2005-09-08T11:30:00.000-07:00

I will always be grateful to my parents for teaching us kids tolerance. That sounds like a funny sentence to write with regards to this week’s topic, but I’ll explain that later. I grew up in a very tolerant and accepting family. I never felt that my parents judged any of my friends, even those that weren’t members of the church. My elementary and Jr. High Schools were not culturally diverse, but because of my family example, the color of someone’s skin or culture was never an issue. It just didn’t matter.

I bring up tolerance and acceptance because that is an area of the church that I see as a “do as I say, not as I do” issue…often. You are taught in Primary and Sunday School that we are all God’s children and that we should love our neighbors as ourselves and most importantly: JUDGE NOT LEST YE BE JUDGED. While it’s hard to write on this week’s topic without inadvertently judging someone else…I’m trying really hard not to that here. It’s just ironic how much better so many people in the church think they are because of the beliefs of the church being “the only true church.” I’ve seen many people leave the church because they are judged for the way they live the gospel…still knowing the gospel is true. It was just hard for them to listen and learn about the accepting nature of the gospel and never feel it because they were always judged and looked down on.

**Disclaimer so I don’t get trashed in the comments: I AM NOT SAYING ALL MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH ARE THIS WAY. Thank you.

I’m not arguing the truthfulness of the gospel or that there are many that do accept people for who they are. What I’m talking about is teaching each Sunday to do many things and then not exemplify that with members and non-members alike. NONE of us are perfect and we all have time of being judgmental and hypocritical. It happens. But it’s also important to recognize this and to really take heart to the fact that if you look down on the person that doesn’t live the gospel the way you think they should, or look down on the person with all the tattoos and peircings or have contempt for the gay couple that live down the street that you are placing yourself above those people making sure they know that YOU ARE BETTER. It truly makes no difference if your children are taught to love one another if it is not shown to them by example in their daily lives. I think that makes Heavenly Father very sad.

So...all those who have no sin…please, throw that first stone.

Hypocritical Oaths

2005-09-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

I hate a hypocrite as much as the next person, but I also openly acknowledge that all of us are, at times, hypocritical.

For instance, I tell my students not to sit on top of the desks in my classroom... but I do it all of the time. I also tell people to be on time, when I am sometimes late. Oh, and my critique of my husband's driving is laughable when you look at my DMV printout.

I think we're all hypocrites and if I were to tell you to stop being hypocritical, then that would be hypocritical. See the messy Catch 22?

I can't talk about this without being guilty of what I'm talking about.

But putting that aside (because otherwise this would be a REALLY short and repetitive post), I have to say that I haven't dealt with a disproportionate number of two-faced Mormons versus two-faced Gentiles.

Most people have seen and interacted with people who know and espouse methods by which you should do things or live you life, but fail to operate by those methods themselves.

When people do this, I usually don't call them out on it--I really don't enjoy confrontation--but just take what they say with a grain of salt. As Carrie Ann said, it really is about integrity.

Do As I’m Doing…Follow, Follow Me

2005-09-05T10:08:00.000-07:00

I will be brief for two reasons: 1) it is a holiday and 2) I don’t have a whole lot to say on this subject so I am counting on the people who HAVE a lot to say on this subject to say it and I will comment on their posts.

I’m sure this topic came up because people who preached one thing and lived another have had a presence in someone’s life. And that’s a big deal; it’s yucky, but I don’t have too many personal experiences with it.

OK, I may have a couple, which were more irritating than anything. Remember Miss Handstand? I had a co-worker who had some issues, so she’s not entirely to blame. But we would go on store build-outs for a couple weeks at a time. One build-out in Cozumel, Mexico took a month; a long, hot, arduous, irritating month. Miss Handstand didn’t want to go on a full-time mission, because it would impede her ability to flirt and date, but this didn’t stop her from commandeering the painter (who was already two weeks behind) to teach him the Gospel….as she knew it: which meant that you should follow all the commandments that are convenient for you at the time, but when in Rome…or when in Cozumel…do as the Cozumelians do, if it gets you a date and a free dinner, with a stranger, in a country in which you do not speak the language. If anything, her actions verses her words caused a HUGE breach in trust, and that went for work stuff, too. Saying one thing to a vendor or a contractor and then doing another never really works out so well for anyone. Oh wait…isn’t this called INTEGRITY? Now that I’m back in Young Women I notice these things…

I’m sure I’m a two-faced Mormon sometimes. I shouldn’t really comment on other people. That would be judging them, and I know how much people like to feel judged around here. Hopefully, I can use the Holy Spirit to discern the good they say from the bad they do. Good is good, and all good comes from Heavenly Father. I should be more supportive when people like Miss Handstand say good things, even if it means the store opens late.

what difference does it make

2005-09-03T09:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve come to hate watching the news especially with the shock and awe guess work and punditry that has subsumed “breaking news.” I don’t even want to know what is going on with the hurricane aftermath anymore, let alone what some jackass reporter or politician thinks about it.

Of course it’s good to be prepared, to take reasonable measures. Obviously, there is no way to prepare for the apocalypse when it lands on your doorstep. Acts of God, whims of the universe, it’s a roll of the dice and 50 gallons of honey isn’t going to do you much good one way or the other. I have friends in an area neighboring the hurricane and their supply lines come right out of the delta. They weren’t affected by the weather, but in the aftermath their community has already run out of gas (literally) and who knows what will go next. They certainly would benefit from food storage, but they aren’t Mormon, so they don’t get to have any.

I’ve never been excited about food storage. Even the events of this week haven’t excited me. I found a way to get excited, though. A year’s supply of brownies and lemon bars. I’m still perfecting my brownie recipe, but I make lemon bars that could kill. Just the thought of a year’s supply of ingredients for brownies and lemon bars, I’d be an idiot not to do it. Can you bottle eggs? Or can them? I must know. Eggs are crucial to my plans, and I must have a method for long term egg storage. You might think this is ridiculous, but when the economy collapses and we all lose our jobs, two months into grinding your wheat and reconstituting unidentifiable vegetables, you will be trading your children for my lemon bars.