Exponent II's Blog, page 12

Doctrine and Covenants Come Follow Me Lessons Plans: Fall and Winter 2025

In 2025, we’re studying Doctrine and Covenants for the Come Follow Me curriculum, and we’re here to help with our bloggers’ feminist and nuanced lesson plans! Finish out the year strong with our longstanding strategy of teaching lessons with a feminist perspective, historical context and inclusive content and language.

Here are some nuanced lesson plans covering Doctrine and Covenants Come Follow Me that align with the September, October, November and December Come Follow Me curriculum. Is the lesson you need to teach not here yet? No worries! We’ll continue to post new lesson plans as the year goes on. Keep checking our Doctrine and Covenants Come Follow Me Lesson Plans collection to find the new lesson plans we’ll add throughout the year.

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 89–92 “A Principle with Promise”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 89–92 “A Principle with Promise”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 94–97 “For the Salvation of Zion”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 94–97 “For the Salvation of Zion”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 102-105: “After Much Tribulation … Cometh the Blessing”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 102-105: “After Much Tribulation … Cometh the Blessing”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 106–108 “To Have the Heavens Opened”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 106–108 “To Have the Heavens Opened”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121-123 “O God, Where Art Thou?”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121-123 “O God, Where Art Thou?”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121–123 “O God, Where Art Thou?”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121–123 “O God, Where Art Thou?”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121–123 “O God, Where Art Thou?” & The Family A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121–123 “O God, Where Art Thou?”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 125-128: “A Voice of Gladness for the Living and the Dead”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 125-128: “A Voice of Gladness for the Living and the Dead”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 137–138 “The Vision of the Redemption of the Dead”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 137–138 “The Vision of the Redemption of the Dead”

Come Follow Me: The Articles of Faith and Official Declarations 1 and 2 “We Believe”

Come Follow Me: The Articles of Faith and Official Declarations 1 and 2 “We Believe”

Come Follow Me: The Articles of Faith and Official Declarations 1 and 2 “We Believe”

Come Follow Me: The Articles of Faith and Official Declarations 1 and 2 “We Believe”

Come Follow Me: The Family: A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: The Family: A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: The Family: A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: The Family: A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: The Family: A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: The Family: A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121–123 “O God, Where Art Thou?” & The Family A Proclamation to the World “The Family Is Central to the Creator’s Plan”

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 121–123 “O God, Where Art Thou?”

Come Follow Me: Christmas, an invitation to come unto Christ

Come Follow Me: Christmas, an invitation to come unto Christ

Come Follow Me: Christmas or Matthew 1; Luke 1 “Be It unto Me according to Thy Word”

Come Follow Me: Christmas or Matthew 1; Luke 1 “Be It unto Me according to Thy Word”

Come Follow Me: Christmas The Birth of Jesus Christ: “Good Tidings of Great Joy”

Come Follow Me: Christmas The Birth of Jesus Christ: “Good Tidings of Great Joy”

Come Follow Me: Christmas with the women of the Nativity

Come Follow Me: Christmas with the women of the Nativity

Find more Doctrine and Covenants Come Follow Me lesson plans.

Who’s Welcome at God’s Table?

Recently I attended a local United Methodist church, ostensively for book research but also out of curiosity. I haven’t visited a non-LDS church in several years and never a Methodist one. I’m interested in learning more about other denominations after a lifetime of listening to Mormons belittle other churches as just “playing church.” My deconstruction journey has shown me just how wrong we can be about other Christians.

Three main things stood out to me at the Methodist service: openness, joy, and welcome. These are three things I haven’t truly experienced at an LDS church service in… possibly ever.

As I walked into the United Methodist church, I was immediately taken in by the gorgeous architecture. I have so much holy envy for beautiful spaces of worship. This building was a large A-frame with huge stained glass windows. Behind the altar, there was an alcove with more tall windows pouring in light and framed with growing green plants. The expanse above my head filled with light and color. I felt myself immediately in a place where I could breath easily. Below the large windows were more stained glass depicting scenes from Christ’s life. As the service commenced, the space filled with laughter, praise, and music, swelling with overwhelming joy.

I couldn’t help feeling frustrated as I thought about the LDS churches I was used too–so cookie cutter, stale, and uninspiring. Our chapels typically lack windows, or have them obstructed by closed curtains. There is no artwork at all and no color beyond a few shades of beige. You can’t even have a picture of Jesus! Chapels are lit by hanging boob lights and walls are lined with scratchy carpet. Aside from the pews, this space could be any generic building. There’s nothing there to indicate if the church goers worship Jesus, Satan, or a flying purple monster.

Whenever I enter an LDS chapel, I feel immediately smaller. The room is neither open nor natural. The rows of pews confine you, locking you in to look up at a row of men in dark suits. I feel no inspiration from the space, no desire to explore or display the truest parts of me before God. Instead, I’m pre-programmed, repeating the same actions and emotions to display my worthiness before the congregation through restrictive dress, prayer, talk, and music. But as I sat in that A-frame church, awash in the light and color that pointed me upward to the heavens, I felt peace. I felt curious, contemplative, and connected. I didn’t feel confined to a specific role or performance. No one looked at me funny for wearing pants. I wasn’t judged for my bare shoulders. I didn’t feel intense pressure to be quiet and ask no questions.

The moment I walked through the sanctuary doors, I was greeted by congregants who asked my name, handed me a program so I could follow along with the service, and genuinely welcomed me. I sat down in a back pew, expecting to quietly hide and observe but was immediately greeted by several more people who engaged me in conversation. Later in the service, they all stood and greeted each other in the name of Christ for several minutes. They walked around the room, shaking hands, and exchanging hellos and introductions, all the most genuine smiles I’d seen on church goers in a long time. They also came up and greeted me just as they did their friends. I was so overwhelmed by the pure love radiating through the room as this little congregation of Christians became one in purpose and friendship. Even as a complete stranger, I felt wanted with no ulterior motives. No one introduced me to missionaries or suggested I needed to do something to be a part of them. They invited me to join them afterwards for coffee and told me I was welcome anytime, no reservations or requirements.

Again, this joyful reunion of congregants was so polar opposite of a lifetime of LDS church meetings where members are told to come in “reverently,” which is defined as quiet. We’re discouraged from making small talk or even greeting others, as that’s supposed to be done in the foyer. I wrangle four kids into a pew and immediately start shushing them. Last year, we had a fifth Sunday lesson that was direct from general authorities on how to make sacrament meetings joyful and welcoming by being more silent and solitary in the chapel. It felt like I was being punked. Meanwhile, the Methodists are walking around greeting each other, blessing each other, and filling their space with a kind of joy and welcome I’ve never received in Mormonism.

As the service went on, the female minister (young, married with three little kids that her husband was chasing around, I might add) spoke in normal, inclusive language. It was like listening to a friend, no airs of authority or decorum. Sometimes a congregant would speak out loud an audible “amen.” At times she even asked the audience to respond out loud to questions. I didn’t feel like I was sitting in a lecture hall. She didn’t have to appeal to the authority of a man or quote anyone but Jesus. I was in awe of how she spoke and prayed openly for social justice issues. It was so moving to watch a woman bless children, to hear a female voice conduct without restriction, to watch as individuals of all genders lead music, read scripture, and passed communion.

Communion was the most beautifully inclusive part of the service. There were no rote prayers required to be so exact they had to repeat it over and over. Instead, she prayed for God to bless it in her own words. The minister also mentioned the mysteries of God, signaling a willingness to not have all the answers. She called on grace, not works or obedience. She invited with openness, making me feel for the first time, that sacrament was something that truly belonged to all of us, regardless of faith status, gender, sexuality, or race.

She told us that this was God’s table, not hers, and not the church’s. It belonged to God alone and as God loves all, it includes everyone. She specifically said that anyone could come and partake, even if they weren’t Methodist, weren’t baptized, or didn’t even believe in God. Her final words stuck in my soul: “This is God’s table and all are welcome at it.”

Then she and other members stood at the front and distributed the bread and wine. (Which was available communally or individually wrapped.) I watched as they broke off a piece of bread and handed it to each individual in line–adults, teens, children. There was no “boys only” club to pass it. We didn’t have to wait for the highest male authority to take it first. Everyone was truly equal before God.

After the line concluded, she walked around to the congregants who couldn’t stand. When she came to a woman by me, I saw her smile, look directly at her, and hand her a piece of bread saying, “The body of Christ broken for you, Jane.” My heart about stopped. It was the closest I’ve ever seen to Jesus himself giving the sacrament. She called her by name and offered love for her individually. If that isn’t the embodiment of the atonement, I don’t know what is.

One of my biggest Mormon secrets is that I’ve never connected with the sacrament. It’s never been meaningful to me. That’s not to say I didn’t desperately try my entire life to make it so. I tried every technique or tip I heard. I read scriptures, prayed, contemplated, and quite frankly, begged, God to make the sacrament holy to me. To give me an honest testimony of the power of sacrament. But I never felt it. I faked it, I pleaded, I craved it so, so much. But a couple of years ago, I finally had to be real with myself and God and admit what I’d been burying for decades–the sacrament just isn’t a connecting and meaningful part of worship for me. I still participated in it but I stopped trying to force it. Now I wonder if maybe the problem isn’t me, but that the way we do it is too exclusionary and narrow for all to experience it equally.

Sitting in that Methodist church, I might have felt the power of the body and blood of Christ for the first time in my entire life. I watched everyone equally participate in a sacred ritual without the dominating shadow of authority or regulations. I saw the young, the old, and the in-between come forward with desire and be offered the bread and wine as unique individuals. There was no assembly line of passing trays to each other, making me feel more like another cog in a wheel rather than a human that Christ uniquely loves. And there was music. There was chatter and silent prayer. It could all co-exist at once. It reminded me that community is reverence. Community is the body of Christ. Silence and perfection might be a form of reverence for some people but it is not universal.

It struck me also that there were no worthiness requirements for the sacrament. I’d been taught that only those “worthy” should take the sacrament. I remember Sunday school lessons stating that if you feel you’ve been extra sinful, it’s best to skip the sacrament. There are also formal stages of church discipline that require members to forgo the sacrament to repent (something which has never made sense to me). But the Methodists showed me that there are no requirements for coming to God’s table. I was reminded of the scripture telling us to come and feast without money or price. It was truly holy to witness God’s word in actual action, not hidden beneath layers of exceptions and footnotes.

I drove home from that service and cried in my car. I don’t know all the ins and outs of Methodism. From what I’ve read, there’s a history of past sexism and discrimination that they’ve been repairing and changing, including allowing female ministers and supporting LGBTQ marriages and rights. I’ve no doubt there are strains of patriarchy they are still overcoming as a church. I’m sure there are problematic parts to be reckoned with. But from what I experienced, there was overwhelming joy, openness, and welcome. There was true inclusion and Christ-like love. I didn’t come face-to-face with oppressive power structures like I do every single time I step into an LDS chapel. For the rest of the day, I felt like I was floating on air. I kept smiling and took the time to lay out in the sun and soak up the warmth with a gratitude I haven’t felt in so long.

The LDS church has a sign outside every building that says “Visitors Welcome.” We give lip service to everyone being welcome at church. We speak about being inclusive and how God loves all. And then we put up strict boundaries and rules that directly contradict. We worship God with our lips but our hearts are far from Them, focused instead on proving worthiness, obedience to patriarchal men, and great and spacious temples. We gatekeep baptism with an interview you have to pass. We require interviews for further worthiness at all levels: as youth, to get a temple recommend, to declare our tithe-paying, anytime the bishop deems it necessary.

We divide more than we bring together. We separate people into actives and inactives, members and nonmembers, worthy and not worthy. We force boundaries onto genders that determine our entire life path and enforce power structures that uphold white maleness as superior. Trans individuals are “welcome” but not allowed to attend meetings of their gender or even go to the bathroom unattended. LGBTQ members are allowed as long as they live a celibate, half-life that denies who they are, sometimes to the point of encouraging suicide. We love bomb potential converts, then dump them onto the covenant path with no community and wonder why they stopped coming. The prophet tells us that we shouldn’t take counsel from nonbelievers, that God’s love is conditional, and that we must obey everything they say to be accepted. The temple divides families and creates a “sad heaven.” Culture pressures us to push out those who don’t conform. I could go on and on.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, not everyone is welcome at God’s table. Not everyone can take the sacrament or sit in our spaces. We cannot show up as our truest selves and openly be included without gossip, perfectionism, or worthiness rearing it’s ugly head. Our participation and power is restricted by the sex organs we’re born with and our race, sexuality, wealth, and location all play a part in the roles we’re called to or how we can engage with the church. Mormonism is rife with boundaries and power structures that uphold patriarchy, sexism, racism, and homophobia in the name of God. We claim to set up a feast but most members will only ever receive table scraps.

So if Christianity is about worship and love in Christ’s name, who’s really the one only “playing” at it?”

Guest Post: Grappling With Legacy and Offering an Apology

Guest Post by Kate

This is not your run of the mill polygamy story. Unfortunately, it’s so much more than the usual amount of discomfort, putting things on the proverbial shelf, etc. 

A friend of mine recently asked me to read through a draft of a book he was writing. His topic was leadership throughout Church history, and he included many notable and inspiring figures like Esther and Gail Halvorsen (the “Candy Bomber”). He also chose to include Levi Savage Jr. If that name sounds familiar, it’s because he’s the protagonist of the movie 17 Miracles and a real-life pioneer who helped lead the Willie Handcart Company across the plains.

I was especially excited to read that chapter. Levi Savage Jr. is my third great-grandfather.

I’ve brought that fact up in countless conversations over the years. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been immensely proud to be of pioneer stock and part of a multigenerational Latter-day Saint family. At Church dinners and activities, I’d often say things like, “Oh, you saw 17 Miracles? That’s my great-great-great-grandfather!” And, more often than not, someone else would chime in, “I’m related to him too!” We’d open FamilySearch, use the “Find Family Members Near Me” feature, and discover we were fifth cousins or something close.

When I learned that Levi would be featured in the book, I offered to help. I had access to a plethora of materials—his journals, newspaper clippings, photos, and other family memorabilia. But once I started digging, I discovered something deeply upsetting.

Levi Savage and Wives

The reason so many people are related to Levi is because he was a polygamist (I already knew that). He had four wives: Jane Mathers, Ann Brummel Cooper, and—this is where it gets disturbing—Ann’s two daughters from a previous marriage, Adelaide and Mary Ann Cooper.

Yes, you read that correctly. After Levi’s first wife, Jane, passed away, he married Ann Brummel Cooper, a widow with two daughters. Then, after adopting those daughters when they were just seven and nine, he later married them when they were 15 and 17.

Proof of Levi Savage and Mary Ann’s marriage record Adelaide Savage Obituary with proof of marriage to Levi Savage

At first, I hoped this was one of those “eternity-only” sealings, a historical oddity that supposedly didn’t involve actual marital relations.  But as I dug further I found he had children with (read, raped) Mary Ann, the older of the two girls.

Mary Ann Spouse and Children

I emailed my friend immediately and told him, “Maybe you shouldn’t include Levi in your book… he’s done some pretty disgusting things.” To my surprise, he replied that he already knew. He had been wrestling with the decision of whether someone with such serious moral failings could still be held up as an example of leadership.

He made the right call and decided not to include Levi in the book.

A few days after that, I called my dad. He is very familiar with church and family history. I asked why he’d never told me about this part of Levi’s story. He looked down, ashamed, and said, “It was so weird and gross, I didn’t know how to explain it… but it was a different time, and we can’t judge…”

A familiar script played out.  The thought-stopping phrases we all seem to use when faced with uncomfortable truths about leaders in church history.

I don’t blame my friend for initially wanting to include Levi in his book. And I don’t even blame my dad for trying to defend him. Because this kind of compartmentalizing happens all the time in our community.

We’ve all done it. To accept Joseph Smith’s marriages to teenagers, Brigham Young’s many wives and his racist rhetoric, or John Taylor’s views on polygamy, we have to mentally separate the “bad stuff” from the “prophetic stuff.” We shelve the uncomfortable parts so we can keep admiring the good. But if you stop shelving those things, the cognitive dissonance becomes hard to ignore. How can someone be called of God and also be a predator? And how can there be no consequences?

Levi Savage Jr. took two more wives after Brigham Young personally authorized it. Why he chose his stepdaughters, I truly don’t know. His journal has a 16-year gap around that time. His wife Ann, the girls’ mother, doesn’t mention it. The girls’ own journals are silent. The only reference I could find was in his son’s journal. Levi Mathers Savage wrote that the girls were raised like his sisters and called Levi “Father.”

Letter from Brigham Young authorizing the polygamist marriages

Like I said at the beginning of this post.  This isn’t your run of the mill polygamy story.  This is pedophilia.  I hope by writing this I can apologize on behalf of our community to Mary Ann and Adelaide.  I’m  sorry no one protected you.  I hope we can protect those like you going forward.  

After learning all of this, I stopped bragging about being related to Levi Savage Jr. and I don’t feel pride in his story being portrayed in a movie anymore, even if it was well done by Church movie standards. I’ve chosen not to compartmentalize his life. 

And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe we’re supposed to see the fallibility of the men we’ve been taught to honor. Maybe that’s why scripture includes the stories of leaders like David and Solomon who fell from grace. They were held accountable by God. So why shouldn’t we do the same with our own historical figures, family members, and church leadership?

The fearful part of me hesitates to do this as many of us are still under covenant to not “speak ill of the Lord’s anointed.”  Even as I write this my brain is spinning trying to frame this from a faithful perspective.  However, maybe losing faith in people is what’s needed.  Alma 32:34 says “34 And now, behold, is your knowledge perfect? Yea, your knowledge is perfect in that thing, and your faith is dormant;”

I don’t need to have faith in the authority of men once my knowledge of what they did surpasses the faith I once had in their divinely issued authority. 

No amount of good deeds, impressive church leadership credentials, or charisma make up for the harm someone causes. It’s not a moral transaction. 

We will only move forward as a faith community if we hold everyone equally accountable, protect victims, let knowledge overcome blind faith,  choose to have our eyes opened, and choose spiritual discomfort over the comfortable garden of stagnation and tradition.  

Kate got her degree in Genetics and Biotech from Brigham Young University Provo. She is a mother of two, wife, and active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. She loves anime, playing the piano, baking, and running.

Purity Culture Messes Up Men – and It Hurts Women

Last week I came across a reel on Instagram where an LDS man was describing the challenges he faced as a missionary seeing women dressed immodestly during the day. (I’ve transcribed his exact words at the end of this post if you’re interested.) At night he would have a hard time sleeping because he was constantly thinking sexual thoughts. Desperate to stop these “intrusive thoughts”, he asked his mission president for help, who in turn told him to call him on the phone whenever it happened.

At 12:30 am one night, he called his mission president, who instructed him to do sets of 25 pushups until he no longer could think about the intrusive sexual thoughts, only about the pain in his arms. 

This was told as an uplifting story. It’s not.

It’s completely normal and healthy human development to be an 18-year-old who lies in bed thinking sexual thoughts. (It’s normal to be a 60-year-old who lies in bed with sexual thoughts.) It’s totally normal to have sexual thoughts!

Ordinary sexual thoughts are not “intrusive thoughts” like a person struggling with anxiety or obsessive compulsive disorder experiences. These are not thoughts planted by Satan because the missionary hadn’t been valiant enough in his daily spiritual activities. And of course, these aren’t thoughts that “immodest” women were responsible for planting in the mind of a missionary trying to remain pure. Sexual thoughts are normal, healthy, human thoughts – that’s all!

Humans are wired to be a certain way. For example, we think puppies are cute and we laugh at videos where people fall and hurt themselves. Imagine a missionary calling his mission president at 12:30 am, filled with guilt over laughing at a video of someone falling off their skateboard and into some bushes. How would that conversation go?

Elder: “President, I feel terrible. I keep trying to think about something else, but every time I close my eyes I see that video of the person falling off their skateboard and I start laughing again. I know it’s wrong. I know he probably broke some bones. I’m laughing at someone who was badly injured – help me get rid of these intrusive thoughts from Satan!”

Mission President: “Elder, you don’t need to call and wake me up about this. Everybody laughs at that video. Go to sleep.”

This is how the phone call about sexual thoughts should have gone between the elder and his mission president. The instruction should have been, “Go to sleep. You’re normal.” Yet the purity culture within the LDS church is so intense that we don’t even allow people to think about sex. The level of guilt this man felt over thinking about things is awful (and not his fault!).

This type of teaching to priesthood holders hurts not just men, but women too. Women are objectified so often that we become temptations for men to overcome, rather than actual human beings. Men see female bodies, feel normal sexual feelings, and are so ashamed they go to extreme measures to make it stop – like physically hurting themselves to the point of distraction. Imagine how this can harm a young man’s future sexual relationship with his spouse if he’s trained his body to expect punishment and pain every time he feels aroused. Future wives suffer when young men are taught things like this.

Instead of seeing women as sexual temptations to resist, what if we taught young men that feeling sexual arousal towards women is normal and healthy, and not something to feel bad about? What if we focused lessons on how to act respectfully towards women even when they are attracted to them? Young men should be taught to embrace their sexuality because when they don’t, women become dangerous objects to avoid. And when women are thought of as sex objects, they lose out.

In the workplace women aren’t given equal mentorship from their male bosses who worry about controlling their thoughts, college girls are proposed marriage quickly by young men who can’t handle getting to know them without also having a sexual relationship, and married women are expected to satisfy 100 percent of their husband’s sexual desires because she is his only approved outlet after a lifetime of white knuckling it to the wedding night. Even the possibility of basic equality to men is erased. My bishop once told me that women could never be ordained to the priesthood or placed in leadership roles with men, because that would mean early morning bishopric meetings with a male bishop alone with his female counselor. Affairs would follow, he insisted. Male-only priesthood is keeping women from having cheating bishop-husbands! 

Yet women are not threatening, seductive temptations from the adversary for men to overcome. We’re human beings.

We have to do better.

*****

Here is the exact transcript of this story from the Instagram reel:

“On my mission, there were attractive girls and at times they were immodest. When I tried to go to bed at night, there were just tempting thoughts, just flooding my mind and it was so hard to sleep. And I told my mission president about this, and he told me, “Elder, the next time you struggle with this, call me.”

It was 12:30 at night and I called my mission president. I said, “President, I’m struggling”. He said, “Elder, give me 25 pushups”. I got on the ground, did 25 pushups, got on the phone. “Elder, are the thoughts still intrusive?” “Yes, President.” “Give me another 25”. Went down, 25 pushups. “Elder, are the thoughts still intrusive?” We repeated this process until the only intrusive thought was the pain I was experiencing in my arms. I said, “President, I’m good now”, and he said, “Good night.”

Guest Post: “Lord, To Whom Shall We Go?”: Latter-day Saint Women and the Rehabilitation of Heavenly Mother – Part 1

Guest Post By Paige

This is the first in a three part series about Heavenly Mother. Parts 2 and 3 will be published the next two Sundays.

Part one: Why a Non-Mormon Cares About Heavenly Mother: Reflections on Gender, Power, and Theology

Mormon feminist scholarship comes into discord on the question of Heavenly Mother and her role. How are we meant to address binary sexual difference? How much should we be emphasizing motherhood and maternity? Do non-monogamous or non-heterosexual imaginings of the Godhead pose a threat to Heavenly Mother? Do they pose a threat to women?

The movement to reclaim Heavenly Mother reflects a broader struggle within LDS theology: the negotiation of gendered divinity in a religious tradition that has historically prioritized male authority. The task of rehabilitating Heavenly Mother has been taken up by many different types of feminists and non-feminists alike. It is unlikely that the tensions between trans-exclusionary and queer, monogamous and polygamist, and orthodox and progressive perspectives are going to
ease up in the near future.

As Heavenly Mother makes a resurgence, contemporary feminists work towards reclamations of her divinity that are resonant for an increasingly diverse Church.

I’m not a Latter-day Saint. But as someone who studies religion and cares deeply about the ways faith traditions shape identity, power, and possibility—especially for women—I find myself drawn to the story of Heavenly Mother. What’s striking to me is that the seeds of empowerment are already there in LDS theology: the belief that humans are made in the image of divine parents, the idea of eternal progression, the possibility of theosis. These are radical ideas. In a tradition that teaches people can become like God, what would it mean to truly see women reflected in the divine? And yet, that possibility feels continually deferred.

During my work as a religious studies student, I’ve come across so many contemporary LDS thinkers and artists that are taking on courageous efforts to carve out space for a more expansive vision of God, but they continue to meet institutional resistance. I believe the image of God matters. If the divine is only ever envisioned as male, then there are consequences for who is seen, heard, and valued.

Latter-day Saints continue to question the characterization of their Heavenly Parents, asserting their agency as representatives of their faith. Examination of recent scholarship alongside contemporary Mormon art, especially Caitlin Connolly’s In Their Image showcases the opportunity for rehabilitations of Heavenly Mother that offer a more inclusive and expansive theology. Heavenly Mother will continue to grow into a figure that is not fixed, but fluid and deeply engaged in the self-perceptions of Latter-day Saint women and their relationship with the Church.

As a vernacular faith, Mormonism is defined by the lived experiences, interpretations, and practices of its members. As Latter-day Saints continue imagining and recreating Heavenly Mother, they create opportunities for deeper perceptions of the divine.

A Tool for Control: How She Has Been Employed to Subjugate

Birth and Motherhood are often central features in articulations of divine femininity. However, when Motherhood, even notions of motherhood beyond child-rearing, is elevated and understood as central to femininity, it can often function to serve complementarian and patriarchal ideologies.

Taylor Petrey notes this historical function: “Nineteenth-century polygamist men like Orson Pratt found in the doctrine of a divine mother a patriarchal model for several heavenly wives who would bear spirit children to populate new worlds…As Mothers in Heaven, these wives were turned into ‘gods in subjection.’ In the politics of parturition, reproduction was the value of divine women, not only contingent on men but located only in the value [of] their wombs.” 1 In this view, childbearing marks women’s divinity for its role in creating spirit children. Also embedded in Pratt’s view, though, is the critical nature of polygamist celestial marriages, meaning a woman’s divinity was also contingent on her sealing to a man, who would have multiple wives.

Author Carolyn Pearson specifically takes issue with Orson Pratt’s description of a polygamist patriarchal model. Her book, The Ghost of Eternal Polygamy addresses what Pearson believes to be damaging misogyny by the ongoing belief in and policies regarding polygamy. Under continued belief amongst Church members and leadership that polygamy is a true
principle, Pearson explains her belief that “…being female, I was destined eternally to receive second prize. To be second prize. To be, if I was sufficiently righteous, in that sweetest, most intimate relationship we all long for—one of many.”2

Pearson maintains that the concept of eternal polygamy is still highly visible in the teachings and policies of the church. Alongside doctrinal statements and personal narratives, she notes the Church’s continued sealing policies, which allow widowed men to be sealed to multiple women but force widowed women to choose which husband they want to be sealed to, reinforcing the idea that Mormon cosmology is polygynous, and in turn, patriarchal. The historical and theological residue of eternal polygamy, Pearson argues, influences current Mormon marriages, their power dynamics, gender roles, and
expectations, creating anxiety, insecurity, and feelings of diminished worth amongst LDS women.3

In regards to nineteenth-century polygamists, Petrey notes Peter Coviello’s suggestion “that the ‘bio reproductive familialism’ of plural marriage is the very thing that stunted women’s claim to divinity.’”4 If these nineteenth-century ideals are still present as Pearson is attempting to highlight, then LDS women’s divinity is still stunted.

On the Church website, President M. Russell Ballard is quoted as teaching “In our Heavenly Father’s great priesthood endowed plan, men have the unique responsibility to administer the priesthood, but they are not the priesthood. Men and women have different but equally valued roles. Just as a woman cannot conceive a child without a man, so a man cannot fully exercise the power of the priesthood to establish an eternal family without a woman. In other words, in the eternal perspective, both the procreative power and the priesthood power are shared by husband and wife.”5

Despite President Ballard’s assertion in this teaching, many Latter-day Saint women argue that Motherhood and Priesthood are not comparable roles. Another Exponent blogger shares her history of infertility and failed IVF treatments. She shares:
“When the motherhood/priesthood statement is made to me or in church settings, it usually comes with the well-intended side comment, ‘But if not in this life for you, the next.’… Has a man who has been ordained to the priesthood, yet refuses to pay tithing been told, ‘Oh, well… you can hold the priesthood in the next life?’ Of course not. He is still duty-bound and entitled to practice the priesthood within his family unit…not only is he invited to practice the priesthood, he is obligated to do so…Once ordained, even if ‘inactive,’ a man still has the agency to call upon his sovereign power of priesthood in order to ordain or bless another. His office as vessel of priesthood power is not reserved for “the next life”…This cannot be equal to women who can never obtain motherhood in this life. Women cannot automatically conjure a child…her childbearing years and her childbearing ability are limited. Her ability to sustain her office in motherhood is confined within a fertility period of her life… Compared to the male, who has priesthood authority that can take precedence in his home, his congregation, and even at an informal BBQ at any time in his life, so long as he is at least 12 years old. His period and place of accomplishment is extended for his entire life. His priesthood power is relatively unlimited, whereas motherhood is very restricted.”6

This post illustrates the argument of many feminist Saints that the titles of Priesthood and Motherhood cannot be compared. God the Father offers men the Priesthood. If women’s path to exaltation comes through Motherhood, how are women for whom motherhood is not a possibility meant to find meaning in the church? This argument also brings forth greater questions about how the theology of Heavenly Parents means very different opportunities for agency between men and women.

Paige is a Religion, German, and American Studies student looking to pursue Divinity school following her undergrad. She is a non-member, but has found much joy in Mormon Studies and has developed a meaningful relationship with the Church through both her studies and personal explorations. She is deeply passionate about Interfaith work, Bible literacy, and napping on the beach.Petrey, Taylor. Queering Kinship in The Mormon Cosmos. Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 2024. pp. 52 ↩︎Pearson, Carolyn. “Exorcising the Ghost of Eternal Polygamy.” Faith Matters, January 15, 2023.
https://faithmatters.org/exorcising-t.... ↩︎Pearson, Carolyn. “Exorcising the Ghost of Eternal Polygamy.” ↩︎Coviello, Peter as Cited in Petrey, Taylor. “Queering Kinship in The Mormon Cosmos”. pp. 52 ↩︎“Priesthood.” – The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, January 1, 2023.
https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/s.... ↩︎Spunky. “Men Have Priesthood, Women Have Motherhood .” Exponent II , December 29, 2022.
https://exponentii.org/blog/guest-pos.... ↩︎

Cult Classics and Fan Participation: Rocky Horror Picture Show and the LDS Temple Endowment

The internet felt very new to me as a teenager. One of the very first things I remember doing online was looking up the fan script for showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show in the school computer lab. My best friend and I were about sixteen at the time and she was familiar with such worldly things. The first fifty pages of this script were dedicated to just the opening credits and all of the different ways in which fans were supposed to talk back to and interact with the credits. I’d never seen anything like it. It was weird and intriguing.

Last October, I attended a local showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show with a different friend. She’d been to such events many times, but it was my first time doing this. The film was playing on the movie theater screen in addition to a local cast performing the script on the floor in front of the screen. I threw rice when the newly married couple emerged from the church, wore a costume, danced the Time Warp, and talked back to the drama in front of me. My friend, and many others at the theater, were veterans of this experience and told me what to do and when to do it. It was a ritual that they had participated in many times.

I expected that this would be a singular and strange fan experience, but I was both delighted and horrified to realize that there were so many parallels with the LDS temple endowment.

For starters, both stories are about an innocent man and woman experiencing temptation and corruption, falling from a state of grace, and then moving on with their lives with new knowledge and experiences. 

Both dramas are about creation. The endowment follows the creation story, with many details taken from the Book of Moses in the Pearl of Great Price (a book of LDS scripture). In Rocky Horror, the scientist creates a man named Rocky.

Showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show are famous for welcoming participant interaction with the story, but that is also true of the endowment. To participate in an endowment session is to take on the role of Eve, if you are a woman, and Adam, if you are a man, complete with story-related costume elements. In Rocky Horror, we follow Brad and Janet. In both, new participants follow instructions and cues from more seasoned participants about how to appropriately interact with the unfolding drama in ritualized and well-established ways. 

And, of course, there are significant differences. Brad and Janet, an apparently heterosexual couple, are corrupted by the queerness of Dr. Frank-N-Furter and other inhabitants of the castle. In the endowment, men and women take on particular covenants whose blessings are related to gender. Men are blessed to become like God in the afterlife and women are blessed to become priestesses to their husbands. Heterosexuality and gender hierarchy are taught and ritualized in the endowment drama, but they are played with and upended in Rocky Horror. One is a ritual of corruption, opening up new gendered and sexual paths for the participants, while the other is about ensuring participants stick to a sanctifying, limited path for gender expression and sexual behavior. 

The whole experience left me thinking about ritual, gender, and sexuality, about audience participation, and about coming-of-age rituals in different communities. Ultimately, my experience with Rocky Horror Picture Show helped me to understand both experiences as holding something of value for different communities, and of the role of ritual in forming identity for both communities of fans.

I left feeling more understanding of and compassion toward the endowment, which I have not experienced in a long time. It might even be fun to experiment with new kinds of audience-participation rituals with movies that take on similar themes. A Barbie movie endowment, anyone?

Guest Post: Lucky Gear

Guest Post by Amy

Photo by RDNE Stock project: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up...

One of my daughters gestures over to the cottage shop reminiscent of good witches and midwife healers with an elegant elf poised casually in front of it and we drift in. We wander through the fanciful cottage crammed with all kinds of random Made-In-China (among other places) stuff. There are sections of wares galore creatively displayed and stored to maximize the available space without any trans-dimensional tricks. My 2 daughters and myself are temporarily spell-bound by a discrete display of “Stuff I Want to Manifest” charms. The price is “right” for a small bit of luck – a “clock” of a lucky break for me, a romantic charm for my lovelorn 16 year old (is there any other kind?), and a dog for the puppy-besotted 9 year old who is learning to bond with the puppy we got for/on Mother’s Day. I want it clearly understood that the puppy acquisition was not a “Mother’s Day Present”, but more of a collision between the calendar and my child’s desire for a pet and an executive functioning development. 

I was reminded of one of the recurring scenes I see in various rom-com anime we watch. There is a tradition of family and friends gathering around New Year’s at the local shrine to walk the grounds, pay the donation fee, and buy small favors/blessings at the shrine’s shop. It’s one of the “they might be together” benchmarks to be seen in public with the friend who may be or become the “significant other” aka “one who is precious to me” (which is such elegant phrasing to define a relationship in my mind). Sometimes, there are scenes devoted to selecting the perfect item to give to the precious one – an academic charm to do better on an upcoming test, a friendship charm to solidify the relationship, a romantic charm to bring up the unspoken question, etc. And individuals stop by the shrine at other times of dire potential peril to pay for a little bit of luck for a loved one.

As any gamer knows, gear matters. Whether a D&D based druid questing for the complete set of legendary armor or a Minecraft survivalist grinding it out amidst the arrow-slotting skeletons in scentless-dank dungeons while dodging lava lakes searching for the most complete set of harvestable diamonds to complete a helmet, gear matters. Characters will literally saunter to the end of the world (or the map) for specific items to use as-is or as an ingredient in a random recipe for the next upgrade.  There are entire databases and online debates about specific item merits and preference. Some games even allow you to have “cover gear” which makes your heavily enchanted utilitarian helmet look like a cool hat, a fancy beret, or even an invisible accessory so that your amazing tangle-free hair goes free-range.

With the most generous of intentions, we give our 7-9 year old children CTR rings that bear our hopes that they will see the ring and make the most “righteous” choice available because they see the ring they are wearing and they remember. We endow select adults with “garments” and communally whisper that they are “super-talismans of protection” for the wearers – up until the meaning assigned to them is actually “for remembrance” and align more closely with the sacrament and status-signaling. There is also a really weird double standard where garments wear like normal underwear for men, but random poorly-sized devices for women that fit just right for a few minutes every month once the women’s lifestyle (mostly during ovulation probably), fabric of the specific garments (fabric matters, style matters,  and the quality of an exact pair of garments matter) and the weather itself are properly aligned – sometimes. 

It’s enough to make one want to locate the next qualified individual with a basic scroll or spell of “Identify” to get the meaning and stats sorted out. Or that these religious tokens are more of an inkblot test designed for the individual to pull out the pre-sanctioned uniquely personal meaning rather than a gauntlet for a suitably sanctioned virtual-signaling leadership assignment of meaning. Or, at least that our gear is about functionality, tradition, enhancement bonuses, and the push-pull of being connected to each other.

 Amy is a Human Being. Mother of Two. Deep Thinker. Granddaughter of a Philosopher.

Who Are We Called to Be?

The Community of Christ ordained their first woman prophet, Stassi D. Cramm, in June and I eagerly read about her in The Salt Lake Tribune. Two months later, when I think about her interview with Peggy Fletcher Stack, I keep returning to their conversation about the faith’s decision to ordain women in 1984.

In their discussion, Fletcher Stack delicately mentions that “some say the church lost a lot of members over it [women’s ordination]” and Cramm replies simply, “We estimate about half.”

There’s no tone or inflection in Cramm’s response, but I am disarmed by the quiet, confident honesty in her response. She does not hesitate to share this devastating statistic or rush to defend the merits of women’s ordination. Instead, when Fletcher Stack pushes for more, saying, “Some historians argue the church didn’t prepare the people enough for that move. What do you think?,” Cramm responds,

“It was an act of faith. There are those moments where the spirit’s calling is so profound that all you can do is present it to the body and then see what the body does with it. In talking to then-President [Wallace] Smith, it was no longer deniable to him. He sensed it for quite a while [that] we cannot continue to become who we are called to be without making this decision, that God was saying, “It’s now, and what will you do with this invitation?” The leadership and those who remain demonstrated an amazing willingness to take a risk, along with profound courage. I just pray that if I come to one of those crossroads, that I have the discernment and the faith and the humbleness and the courage to make that choice.”

My breath caught a little reading that again.

“We cannot continue to become who we are called to be without making this decision.“

When I discuss women’s ordination within the LDS Church, the response is often the opposite. People do not want to discuss, let alone ask God about, women’s ordination. The general feeling seems to be that we should leave well enough alone. What we sacrifice in the name of patriarchy is better than any alternative.

I hear things like, “LDS men are made better by the LDS Church” or “they are better than men without the Church,” so the patriarchal system is necessary to conquer the natural man. There’s also the belief that this life is temporary and we endure what we don’t know, even if it feels unfair, unjust, or wrong, because God set it up this way. I’ve been told as well that the Church and much of what we practice is focused on the most basic to bring in and retain as many people as possible. Asking or pushing for more or different disrupts this and would be too much for many current members or potential converts.

And, yet, I cannot shake the persistent feeling that we are called to be more.

Years ago, I sat down to a temple recommend interview with one of the most progressive-seeming members of a Stake Presidency I’d ever met. He was a bit of a feminist in his own way and definitely related to plenty of them. He listened to me with an open heart and mourned with me in a way I had not previously experienced from someone in his position. In fact, his heart was so open, he didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t hold my baby during his blessing (until he just double-checked with the higher-ups, who helped him see the light).

I met with this man over ten years ago and our interaction still puzzles, touches, and infuriates me simultaneously. I recall sitting with him and feeling so hopeful. He clearly also knew that we were called to be more. His heart seemed to ache for it. And yet…He ultimately told me that we all have burdens to carry in life and mine seemed to be to witness the injustices of women and still remain faithful.

His comments immediately deflated me. Thanks. I hate it. I thought, “What does that mean? What do I do with that? Why would a loving God give this to me?”

After this interaction, I believed for a long time that he was wrong because I could not be categorized as faithful. But that was informed by a single, rigid definition of what it means to be faithful and act in faith. Yes, I’ve lost faith and felt directionless because the faith tradition I practiced could or would not answer the call to be more. And, while others could stay and fully practice, making change from within, my heart told me that this only enables a system to continue ignoring the call for more. So, acting in faith looks far different than I once imagined.

Perhaps God has called me to witness the injustices of women and remain faithful by speaking up and sharing my faith in a better gospel for everyone that moves beyond patriarchy…even if it is only so that I know I have the courage to make that choice despite the costs.

There’s an obvious response to this, right? The LDS Church has made a decision when it comes to numbers: to let go of women like me, a number that may be bothersome, instead of potentially losing half of their membership and the men necessary to keep congregations going. It’s the safe choice and steadily keeps things as they are.

But what if we’re called to be more? What if God offers something next, beyond, better – we only have to reach for it? Yes, they’ll be risk, sacrifice, roadblocks, and many things will go wrong before they go right.

Where could our faith take us if we weren’t so afraid of what we’d lose without patriarchy?

Curses are not Covenants: A Sermon for Mormon Women on Genesis 3:14-19

I was a Primary kid in the 1980s and early 1990s and at that time there seemed to be a big push to get children to memorize the Articles of Faith. Each of them was written out in large letters on poster board and there were big sticker charts in the Primary Room that tracked each child’s progress through this task of memorization. When the Children’s Songbook came out in 1989, the book had a song version of each of the Articles of Faith and we had to learn all 13 of these awkward sounding minor songs. And, of course, the easiest Article of Faith to learn was the second one, because it was also the shortest: “We believe that men will be punished for their own sins and not for Adam’s transgression.” It is not a great song. 

As we learned each of these, we talked about what they meant and this one was straightforward. I did learn that men in this context meant everyone, and not just men. At other times in the scriptures and in church talks, men meant men specifically. It was kind of confusing to me, but others assured me that it was very clear to them when the scriptural author or a church leader was talking about all people or men specifically. I didn’t think that things were that clear, but who was I to question this kind of received wisdom? I trusted that the adults in my life had also thought about such things and interrogated them and so I must have been missing something.

What I understand now is that Joseph Smith, in writing the Second Article of Faith, was refuting the idea of original sin, the idea that God does not condemn us today for Adam and Eve’s actions in the garden. According to Mormon teaching, people are not born with any kind of systemic taint, but our sins are our own. One of the problems with this, and we might say that there are several, is that this does not jive with what many of us have experienced, with what many women have experienced. Specifically, this teaching is not consistent with what we have experienced as women in the LDS temple endowment ceremony, where our husbands were promised that if they remained righteous, that they would become like God in the next life. We were promised that, because of Eve, we would have our afterlives downgraded and would become priestesses to our God-husbands. I remember feeling a lot of anger when I realized that the second Article of Faith did, in fact, mean men and not everyone. Men will not be punished for Adam’s transgression, but women’s potential in the next life is reduced (in a way that the atonement does not rectify) because of Eve’s action in the garden. 

When I started seminary, I intentionally put off scripture classes because I did not want to confront the creation story. What I soon discovered, though, is that many of my classmates derived a significant portion of their theology from the creation story. It came up in nearly every class. The actions of Eve had never been a burden that my classmates had had to carry in the same way that I had. This isn’t to say that they believed the creation story was historical, but rather that this story is an important one for understanding God. I was trying to get distance from my Mormon understanding of God, and every mention of the beauty of the creation story made me cringe. I needed to find a way to address this. I needed some feminist biblical interpretive assistance to fix this. I wondered about what I had experienced in Mormonism and in the endowment. Was there another way to understand this story? What did contemporary progressive and feminist commentaries have to say about it?

The Creation Story

Genesis 3:14-19 marks the end of the creation story and the transition from the idyllic life in the garden to a mortal life with gendered hierarchies (1). Genesis 3 opens with a scheming snake (Gen 3:1), who converses with Eve (Gen 3:1-5). Eve considers her options, eats the fruit, and offers it to Adam, who also eats (Gen 3:6). This breaks the rule that God gave to Adam about not eating fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen 2:17), though it is important to mention that Eve had not yet been created when Adam received this instruction. Eve and Adam gain the knowledge that the snake promised and then attempt to cover their bodies with leaves (Gen 3:7). Sensing that God is nearby, Adam and Eve hide (Gen 3:8). God talks with Adam and Eve (Gen 3:9-19). Adam gives Eve her name and God clothes them both with “garments of skins” (Gen 3:20-21 NRSV). God reflects on what God has done, sends Adam and Eve out of the garden, and places a cherubim with a flaming sword on the path to the tree of life (Gen 3:22-24). While this part of the story describes the ways in which Adam and Eve create a change in the world that they inhabit, the Genesis text does not describe what takes place as “original sin” (1). Nor does the text use the language of sin, which enters the narrative only later during the Cain and Abel story (2). Jewish feminist biblical scholar Amy-Jill Levine notes that the role of the events in Genesis 3 take Adam and Eve from innocence to wisdom, “from nature to civilization” (3).

Eve’s Curse

The issue of genre sheds some light on understanding the purpose of this passage. Scholar Hugh R. Page named 17 different genres used in the Torah and identified Genesis 3:14-19 as a curse (4). The direct language of cursing is used specifically against the snake in verse 14 and against the ground in verse 17, but Adam and Eve are also cursed here. The snake is cursed to move on its stomach (Gen 3:14). Eve is cursed with hard work in childbirth and to be ruled by Adam (Gen 3:16). Adam is cursed to work hard farming the ground (Gen 3:18-19), which is cursed to produce thorny weeds because of him (Gen 3:19) and his attempts to control what he should serve (5). Adam is cursed with mortality (Gen 3:19). God appears to hold the snake the most accountable with the language “Because you have done this” (Gen 3:14 NRSV). God does not offer a similar explanation to Eve, but later curses Adam and the ground “Because you have listened to the voice of your wife” (Gen 3:17 NRSV). 

This series of curses brings about a significant change in situation not only for Adam and Eve, but for the natural world and their relationship to it. There is no indication in the language God uses to curse extends beyond the individuals being cursed. The only exception here is in the relationship between the descendants of the snake and the descendants of women, who God says will be hostile to each other (Gen 3:15). The other curses in this passage are familiar to readers throughout most of time because they describe physical and social realities, but God does not specify that these other curses extend to multiple generations. Instead, the curses mark the destruction of that earlier golden age within this myth.

After this part of the story plays out in the endowment drama, the participants are instructed to make a covenant, which is the first of several covenants that take place during the drama. The language of this covenant has changed over time, but it affirms a hierarchy of genders, where women serve their husbands even in the afterlife.

Genesis Curses in Dialogue

It is also useful to put the curses against Adam and Eve in Genesis 3:14-19 in dialogue with the other curses in Genesis, as their curses are not the only ones with a problematic legacy. Page draws attention to the Curse of Canaan (Ham) in Genesis 9:25, which has been used from the Enlightenment onward as a justification for enslaving Black Africans and establishing discourses and systems of racial hierarchies (6). In both Genesis curses, particular people are cursed and then these curses are later interpreted as pertaining to all people of that group as a way to marginalize some and prioritize others. While there are no broad generalizations attached to the curses that Page points to in Deuteronomy 27:15-26 (65), the Genesis curses have difficult legacies as texts used to create hierarchical categories of humans. To interpret these texts, as so many have done, as creating divinely-inspired social hierarchies is to misunderstand God’s creation of the “earthlings” in God’s image and as equals (7). Just as the Curse of Ham is not a mandate to enslave or denigrate Black people, Phyllis Trible makes the point that Eve’s curse does not require a belief or practice of treating women as inferior (8). To engage in such practices is to deny the equality with which God created humanity (9).

Creation Story as Myth

Levine emphasizes that the creation story is a myth “by which we mean a metaphorical tale designed to explain why life is the way it is” instead of “how life should be” (10). Levine observes that this myth follows the same pattern as others of its era in that it describes a “golden age,” here meaning life in the Garden of Eden, and then a departure from that ideal state to explain why life in the present is the way that it is. Such stories express a nostalgia for a perfect past that never existed and if we mistake these myths for history, we misunderstand their meaning. As a myth, the creation story tries to answer questions about God’s relationship to humans and the natural world and speculates about how we got to this very imperfect state of being. This myth does not answer the question “what happened long ago?” 

While the LDS endowment ceremony does not explicitly describe the creation story as history, there is a strong implication that participants are supposed to understand it as representing truth. In the endowment, a (cisgender, seemingly heterosexual) couple come to the altar and all men are instructed to identify with Adam and all women are instructed to identify with Eve, but they were not the first to make this gender-generalizing leap. 

Early Christian Commentators and Eve

New Testament writers, influenced by ancient Jewish interpreters, extended this idea of Eve or Adam and Eve being cursed to include all of humanity, culminating in the teaching of original sin. Some ancient Jewish apocryphal texts, like Sirach, The Life of Adam and Eve, and the Apocalypse of Moses, described Eve as dangerous and the source of sin and death. The Apocalypse of Moses introduced the idea that Eve was sexually seduced by the snake and that human sexuality is forever corrupted as a result of Eve’s actions (11). The author of 1 Timothy exonerated Adam, giving the full weight of responsibility to Eve (1 Timothy 2:13-14), though scholar Anne W. Stewart also notes that Romans 5 blamed Adam alone (Romans 5:12).

Early Christian commentators, influenced by these Jewish apocryphal writings and New Testament statements, further developed misogynistic interpretations of Eve and spread them. Writing in the second and third centuries, Tertullian held all women accountable with Eve for sin and especially for men’s sin in his text On the Apparel of Women (12). Augustine of Hippo, living in the fourth and fifth centuries, had strong criticisms about Eve’s choices and was a prolific and influential writer. Anne W. Stewart mentions Augustine’s discussion of Eve in his book City of God, where he blamed Adam and Eve together. However, a few quick searches in a database of Augustine’s known writings shows that Adam and Eve made a regular appearance in his work. Augustine referenced them about 350 times and in many texts beyond On Genesis, including letters, sermons, and other theological writings. Eventually this discussion of Adam and Eve and their choices becomes a discussion about the ways in which all of humanity inherits something of this original sin and the events of Genesis 3 take on more significance than is present in the story (12). Not all Early Christian authors come at Eve and all women with such vehemence as Tertullian, but Eve’s sinfulness grows as her choices are contrasted with Mary’s, as introduced by Justin Martyr in the second century (12). 

Early Mormon leaders, like Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, influenced the development of the endowment but did not author Christian misogyny. They inherited the discourses surrounding the identification of Eve with all women and the idea that all women, then, hold this responsibility for the Fall. Smith and Young chose not to question this inheritance and made plenty of space for misogyny in sacred Mormon ritual. Their readings of the Adam and Eve story suggest that God is the ultimate bigot, while ignoring the larger doctrinal problems and inconsistencies that this interpretation creates.  

Curses are not Covenants

For some Jewish interpreters, then, the curses of Genesis 3 describe the introduction of the fallen state of patriarchy. Christians turn this episode into the Fall, which is a problem that is resolved in Christ’s atonement. In both readings, though, the cursed state that was created in Genesis 3 was not God’s original intention for creation, but a significant departure from it. The curses described the world as it was when Genesis was written down, and not as it should be (13).

The curses in Genesis have been used to justify hierarchies of genders and races, which is not in harmony with the bigger story of God’s creation in the garden. It is not consistent with the message of Jesus, which does not affirm hierarchical categories of humans but declares that the first and the last will swap places in the kingdom of God (Matthew 20:16). The curses point to gaps between social realities and a higher ideal of gender equity. All women are not Eve and all women are not cursed for eternity because of Eve. The curses are not covenants requiring obedience, not dramas to be enacted by believers who go on to wear symbols of the skins God gave to Adam and Eve day and night for the rest of their lives. 

Genesis 3:14-19 is a myth explaining the creation of patriarchy that also acknowledges its unfairness. The challenge of this answer, at least for Mormon and former Mormon women, is that this answer is not weighty enough to address the harm done to us in the name of this story. For many of us, bad interpretations of this story have poisoned our relationship with God in ways that cannot be easily recovered. This is never what God intended, but what men created to maintain power over us, weaponizing our love of God against us. May we find some comfort in seeking out and proclaiming a God who condemns racial and gendered hierarchies, who created us all in their image. Amen.

Notes

1 Susan Niditch, “Genesis,” Women’s Bible Commentary: Revised and Updated, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 31.

2 Amy-Jill Levine, “Agreeing to Disagree Series: The Creation (Genesis 1–3),” Temple Emanu-El Streicker Center, November 3, 2020. https://www.emanuelnyc.org/streickercenter/past-events/#476892624, timestamp 54:30.

3 Levine, “Agreeing to Disagree,” timestamp 51:35.

4 Hugh R. Page, “Early Hebrew Poetry and Ancient Pre-Biblical Sources,” in The Africana Bible: Reading Israel’s Scriptures from Africa and the African Diaspora (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010), 65.

5 Clare Amos, “Genesis” in Global Bible Commentary (Abingdon Press, 2004), 7.

6 Page, “Early Hebrew Poetry and Ancient Pre-Biblical Sources,” 65; Rodney S. Sadler Jr,  “Genesis,” in The Africana Bible: Reading Israel’s Scriptures from Africa and the African Diaspora (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010), 74.

7 Sadler, “Genesis,” 72.

8 Sadler, “Genesis,” 50.

9 Ellen Davis, “‘As Our Image’ – Genesis 1:1-23,” in Opening Israel’s Scriptures (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2019), 10: Sadler, “Genesis,” 50.

10 Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler, The Bible with and without Jesus: How Jews and Christians read the same stories differently (New York, NY: HarperOne, 2020), 105.

11 Anne W. Stewart, “Eve and Her Interpreters,” in Women’s Bible Commentary: Revised and Updated (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 47-48.

12 Stewart, “Eve and Her Interpreters,” 49.

13  Niditch, “Genesis,” 31; Levine, “Agreeing to Disagree,” timestamp 53:33.

Guest Post: A Mother’s Blessing: Ditching Dogma on College Move-in Day

Guest Post by Laura Karren Glasgow

On the morning my oldest child left for college, breaking new personal spiritual ground was not on my to-do list.  While I had embarked on a faith-expansion journey the year before, I hadn’t yet traveled very far so it still felt important to me that my daughter receive a blessing before she left home.  In line with the teachings of the modern LDS church,  I saw my husband as the only possible vehicle for this blessing. For reasons I didn’t understand at the time, my husband had not offered her a blessing despite us having discussed his doing so.  I knew that bringing it up again would create tension, but the not-proverbial clock was ticking and I still wanted this for her. 

That morning, while in the shower and pondering on my desire, I was astonished by a most unexpected thought:  I could give her a mother’s blessing.   I gasped in surprise and wonder and then I was almost knocked over by what happened next.   As surely as water was pouring onto my head, words that were not my own began to flood into my head. Within a few moments I was filled with a clear understanding of what to do and what to say.  Just as the wave of surprise began to ebb another surge of feelings crashed into me.  I was overcome by a tidal wave of love: my love for my daughter, God’s love for my daughter and God’s love for me.  I was grateful for the privacy of a shower where I could freely add a torrent of tears to this unexpected storm of inspiration.  

Nervous, but determined, I asked my family to pray with me before we headed to the airport. There were some snickers and eye-rolls, not least from the new college freshman, but I held my resolve, took her hand, and began. I addressed God as I would any other prayer, but then departed from the conventional prayer pattern.  Instead of listing things for which we were thankful, I expressed how I was feeling. I said that my husband and I are feeling similar to how They, our Heavenly Parents, might have felt when we left Their home: excited for the opportunities and experiences awaiting our child, but also apprehensive about the greatly increased availability of both happy-ending and unhappy-ending choices.   

I prayed that our daughter would feel the love of her parents – both earthly and Heavenly as she adjusted to her new life.  I prayed that she would find people that would cherish her as much as we do.  I prayed that she would find people who would influence her for good and that she’d be a force for good as well.  I prayed that she would have help to make choices that would lead to happiness. 

When this blessing-prayer flowed into my mind I could see that it really was no different from what an ordained man would say with the exception of the words “I bless you” having been swapped out for “I pray.”  And while the words “I bless you” connote power to command the elements of the universe, no one will ever convince me that there is even one milliwatt more power in an ordained man saying “I bless you” in front of any of those phrases where I said “I pray.”

I did not, obviously, open my eyes to find a patriarchy defeated and lying in chains at my feet. While I had felt a seismic shift inside me, my family didn’t seem to have heard anything other than a normal family prayer.  But I had heard God speak to me that day and then I heard myself speak the words of blessing God had given me and I will never be the same.  

Laura is a reader, traveler, feminist, and a huge fan-girl of Jesus Christ. Laura works as the Programs Coordinator for a charity that serves refugee and immigrant children and is also a French language tutor.