Exponent II's Blog, page 158

What Good Is a Prophet?

“ Claiming to speak for God is a tricky business — especially when God changes his mind, often, on hot-button political issues after receiving immense public backlash.” – Lauren Jackson, writing for CNN about the Church rescinding the Exclusion Policy for LGBT families in April 2019

The Church has long been clear that doctrine doesn’t change and that a Prophet will never lead the Church astray. Changes that the Church does make, we are taught, are of policy only, and these changes come from God, not from external pressure or the prevailing attitudes of the day.

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That’s the official line, anyway. But is it accurate? 

In short, no.

There are several examples of times the Church’s leaders have clearly led the Church astray, changed doctrine, and made changes due to external pressure. Here are a few.

Slavery
Brigham Young advocated that Utah become a slave territory, rather than a free territory, to the Utah legislature by arguing they must support slavery on religious grounds, stating that “inasmuch as we believe in the ordinances of God, in the Priesthood and order and decrees of God, we must believe in slavery.” Slavery wasn’t ended in the territory until the federal government ended slavery in the US in 1862.

Joseph Smith’s views on slavery were relatively progressive for his day, but the Church under Brigham Young did not condemn (and, in some cases, embraced) slavery. Some Saints in the Utah territory, including a few of the Church’s leaders, owned enslaved people of African descent. The Church was also involved in the enslavement of indigenous Americans; for example, in 1853, all 100 households in Parowan contained at least one enslaved Paiute child. [1]

Mass Murder of Indigenous Americans
Early Mormon settlers in Missouri were subject to an extermination order from the governor that ultimately resulted in them being expelled from their homes and forced to flee. Just 12 years later, under the direction of Brigham Young, the Mormon settlers in Utah Valley carried out their own extermination order against the Timpanogos people in order to take their land.

Polygamy 
After decades of mounting pressure and threats from the US government, Wilford Woodruff proclaimed in 1890 that the Church would stop performing plural marriages (and again in 1904 when it was discovered that the church was still performing plural marriages) despite previous prophets stating that plural marriage would never be revoked.

Racism as Doctrine/Priesthood and Temple Ban for Black Members
In 1949, the entire First Presidency signed a letter for broad distribution that read in part, “The attitude of the Church with reference to Negroes remains as it has always stood. It is not a matter of the declaration of a policy but of direct commandment from the Lord….The position of the Church regarding the Negro may be understood when another doctrine of the Church is kept in mind, namely, that the conduct of spirits in the premortal existence has some determining effect upon the conditions and circumstances under which these spirits take on mortality.”

Nearly 30 years later, after over a decade of strong social pressure resulting from the civil rights movement and long after the majority of the country had started making strides toward racial equality, the Church finally allowed the priesthood to men of African descent and temple blessings to men and women of African descent. Other than a brief mention in an obscure essay, the racist doctrines explicitly taught in the past have never been disavowed by church leaders, nor has the Church apologized to Black members for its racism.

Birth Control
President Joseph Fielding Smith taught, “Birth control is wickedness. The abuse of this holy covenant has been the primary cause for the downfall of nations….When a man and a woman are married and they agree, or covenant, to limit their offspring to two or three, and practice devices to accomplish this purpose, they are guilty of iniquity which eventually must be punished…[and is seen] as wickedness in the sight of the Lord.” 

The Church has gradually changed its position and doctrine in regards to birth control, though top leaders still occasionally publicly encourage large family sizes. But far from causing the downfall of nations, birth control on a global scale has incredible net benefits: “by preventing unintended, often high-risk pregnancies, family planning saves women’s lives and protects their health; improves infant survival rates and bolsters child health; reduces women’s recourse to abortion and, especially, unsafe abortion; protects women and their partners against sexually transmitted infections (STIs), including HIV/AIDS; enhances women’s status and promotes equality between men and women; fosters social and economic development and security at the family, community and country level; and helps safeguard the environment.”

Inclusion of LGBTQ Members
In November 2015, Church leaders implemented a policy that prohibited the children of a parent in a same sex relationship from being blessed, baptized or ordained and labeled church members in gay marriages apostates who required a church disciplinary council. In January of 2016, Russell Nelson, then President of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles, gave a talk broadcast to young adults across the world where he called the policy “revelation” and “the will of the Lord.” The policy was the subject of intense division and controversy among church members, with thousands leaving the church in protest. Last year, less than four years after the policy was implemented, the Church rescinded it. The Church has not apologized or taken responsibility for the harm done by this policy. 

If doctrine and prophecies are sometimes wrong, and if doctrine is changed or rescinded in response to external pressure, and if the Church is consistently years behind the rest of the country in adopting positions in alignment with the widely recognized civil rights of marginalized people, how can Church members have confidence that they are being led by God? Given the Church’s track record of large errors in the past, why aren’t members encouraged to express concern when a Prophet’s guidance feels contrary to God’s will? 

We are taught that God is eternal, that God is constant, that God’s doctrines never change. I believe this to be true. So why does man’s understanding of that doctrine change so much? Could it be that the mantle of Prophet doesn’t provide the clear, direct access to God that we’ve been led to believe it does? Based on the history of the Church’s backtracking on policy previously declared to be doctrinal, it’s pretty apparent that our Prophets see through a glass darkly just as much as the rest of us do, and sometimes even more so.

So what good, then, is a Prophet? 

This is a question I don’t have an answer to, except to say that I’ve come to recognize the role of lowercase-p prophets in my own life, people whose words God uses to teach me something. Sometimes a friend, or an author, or my child is a prophet. Sometimes an activist, a stranger, or a podcast host is a prophet. And sometimes, a Prophet is a prophet. 

But not always.

[1] While doing research for this essay, I stumbled across this Wikipedia article and learned for the first time about the Church’s involvement in enslaving indigenous Americans, particularly Paiute children. I encourage everyone to read it. It is so important that we know our history, even (and especially) the messy and awful parts.

What Could I Have Done Differently With My Life if I Wasn’t Raised LDS?

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This is Dr. Angela Dunn (not me), state epidemiologist in Utah during the current pandemic. She and I have a lot in common, it turns out  – except I was raised LDS and she wasn’t.

This year I’ve discovered a woman with an oddly parallel life to my own. Her name is Dr. Angela Dunn, but you’ve probably never heard of her if you don’t live in Utah (where I am). However, if you do happen to live here you’ll know her very well, because she’s our state epidemiologist during the Covid-19 pandemic.

Dr. Dunn and I are both 39 years old, we live in Utah, we like hiking and running, we’re moms, and in 2014 when an ebola outbreak erupted in Africa it turned both of our lives upside down (but for different reasons).

I grew up in a conservative town in Utah, in a very active Latter-day Saint family. My memories of growing up are mostly good, but in retrospect, it lacked one thing: encouragement to do literally anything with my life other than becoming a wife and mother. 

Dr. Dunn, on the other hand, did not grow up LDS or in Utah, and she received a very different message about what she could do as a woman. Her parents encouraged her to pursue science and increase her education through advanced degrees. And despite an impressive professional resume, she’s still managed to be what I was told would be impossible with a demanding career – she’s a wife and mother, too. 

I followed the plan I’d been given and married a returned missionary before graduating from college. By age 23 I hesitantly went off birth control and had my first of three children at age 25. At that point I quit my first post-college job (a job I seriously rocked at) that I’d had for less than 2 years to be a stay at home mom. It wasn’t my dream to be a stay at home mom, but it WAS my desire to obey Heavenly Father – and I believed having babies and staying home with them was what God wanted me to do. I even felt extra holy doing it, because it was a sacrifice done out of faith.

Almost fourteen years later, I’m still a stay at home mom, filling the long days of pandemic-life with my kids the best I can. One day I heard a radio interview with Dr. Dunn that blew my mind.

Among other things, she talked about a highlight of her public health career in 2014, when she travelled to Sierra Leone to help manage the outbreak of Ebola. Coincidentally, I too had a major life event in 2014 because of this disease. That was when my military spouse told me that *he* would be deploying to Africa as well, to help with the Ebola outbreak in Liberia.

Also coincidentally, she and I were both married and the mother of a two year old child at the time. 

I distinctly remember when my husband got the call alerting him to this deployment. We were at church and he stepped out of Sunday School to take the call. He came back inside and told me, and I stepped outside the church building alone for a minute to process the news. It was cold and sunny and quiet, and I recall feeling more annoyed with our bad luck than stressed or scared. I knew what being left alone again entailed, because we had already done this two times for a year or longer to the Middle East. My husband would have to put his civilian career on hold again, we’d figure out a new normal, and 100 percent of childcare and household duties would fall on my shoulders for twelve months. It was fine. This was life. 

Listening to Dr. Dunn interviewed this summer, she explained getting the request to go to Africa. Her husband asked her half heartedly, “Does it have to be you?”, but at the same time he knew the answer – it did have to be her, because she was the right person for the job and the world needed her. He told her she should go. 

It was startling for me to hear that a husband would actually encourage his wife, the mother of their two year old, to go help people in Africa dying of Ebola. I had to remind myself that at this exact same time, I was encouraging and supporting my husband, the FATHER of our two year old (and a five and eight year old on top of that) to go to Africa to help people dying of Ebola.

(In a turn of events, Ebola died out rather dramatically in early 2015, and the military decided not to deploy my husband to Africa after all. This didn’t change anything for me however, because instead the army rerouted him to the Middle East for the same time period to help with the war in Syria and fight against ISIS.)

And while his world travel swapped and changed and reconfigured, my job never did. It was diapers, grocery shopping, sick kids, laundry and care packages. It didn’t really matter what continent my husband was on, because my role was the same role I’d played many times before – I was his helpmeet. I was the one on-call at any moment of our marriage to fully take over everything at home when he was needed elsewhere. This was true not only for his military service, but also for his civilian job. If he needed to travel, work late, or go in early – he just needed to inform me so that I didn’t wonder where he was. I was (and still am) always there for him to run the household and take care of our kids no matter where life or his job takes him. Over the years of our marriage he’s spent time in six different countries building two careers (civilian and military) and has lived in our home a solid four years less than I have. My scenery has never changed while his has spanned the globe.

I don’t resent him for this. It’s not his fault he’s been deployed so much while I’ve stayed home. But as I listened to Dr. Angela Dunn talk about her trip to Africa during the Ebola outbreak, I found myself startled by her description of the process. She had a two year old child at home, yet she said, “My husband never said not to go. He understood I was the one who needed to be there.”

Her stories about her experience in villages tracing the outbreak were exciting and meaningful. They were scary but also exhilarating. She had gone somewhere outside of her home and done something extraordinary. 

I thought about my own life and where it paralleled hers and where it didn’t. I’d honestly never even considered the possibility that in 2014, as the mother of a two year old, it could’ve been ME who got the phone call during Sunday School and announced to my husband I was leaving him for the next year. My gut reaction was that it was wrong for a mom to leave her toddler. But my husband had left his toddlers before. In fact, he’d left me pregnant with our first child and didn’t come home until that child was almost walking. No one shook their head in disappointment that he’d selfishly chosen a life path that would take him regularly out of the home. In fact, it was quite the opposite- he was always given a hero’s send off and welcome home. 

Angela Dunn and I graduated high school the same year and started college at the same time. I graduated with a bachelor’s degree that had no direction into a career, because I’d honestly never given a career path much thought. I was smart and good at a lot of things, but I followed the plan I’d been given and became a stay at home mom without even allowing myself to consider another path. 

Angela graduated with her bachelor’s degree and then went further to become a doctor with a very successful career, then still married, still had kids, still lives in my state and enjoys the same pastimes that I do. She had parents and a culture that pushed her to become successful (and a spouse that encouraged her to do anything she wanted). She was not taught that her only divine role as a woman was to stay home and be her husband’s full time support staff for his career and life – and she’s done amazing things.

What would I have become if I’d grown up with different teachings? Would I be more of the main character in my life rather than the support staff? Because you see, it turned out that Dr. Angela Dunn could be a mother to her kids AND have passions and interests separate from them and her home – (you know, just like fathers always have done).

Could that have been me, too?

Visio Divina at Allegheny Pilgrims

On September 12, I gave the keynote during the virtual Allegheny Pilgrims retreat and have been asked to share the text. I tried to make this as interactive as possible, so there are various cues in the text for participants to respond. You can find the slides for this presentation here and the slides for the visio divina breakout sessions here.

Introduction

Good evening and thank you for being here with all of us on this virtual pilgrimage. I was so looking forward to meeting and visiting with all of you in person this weekend and I’m still a bit sad about that. Attending Mormon feminist retreats are among my most favorite things and interesting things always seem to happen in these spaces—things that surprise and challenge me in good ways. These often come in the form of comments or thoughts, interesting things that happen, and questions that spark my curiosity. I hope that something of connection or reflection can still happen in this online space this evening. I also want to warn you that I am going pause periodically and invite you to take a breath or sit with me in a moment of silence. If we cannot be together with our bodies in the same place, perhaps we can engage our bodies in our own spaces in some kind of collective spiritual action.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I feel like I lost my emotional and spiritual footing, my grounding, like I was in a kind of hovering a space between solid groundedness and something else. When I think of our theme “roots and wings” I feel like I was lost in an in-between space between the ground and flying. And the image that I have of this feeling, of being lost in this space, looks like a tumbleweed, just bounding off of whatever, having neither roots nor wings. Not grounded and not going anywhere with intention. Just a reactionary bouncing plant of chaos. And more than chaos, kinda destructive. I am reminded that I once had a car irreparably harmed by a high speed tumbleweed on the highway – you have to watch out for these things.  

I felt like a vulnerable tumbleweed and I have to say that I still had it pretty good. No one in my house lost their job, but maybe someone in your house lost their job. Maybe you have worried about how to pay the rent or mortgage. Maybe someone in your house got sick. Maybe you have said good bye to people during this time, whether due to the virus or some other cause, and you have worried about the physical and mental health of your loved ones and homeschool in all the ways you never wanted to. Maybe you have protested in the wake of George Floyd’s murder or learned more than you ever knew to about race and racism in the United States and maybe our political situation and the election weigh on your heart. Whether we have lost a little or a lot, it has been a rough year of grief and that grief has shown up in our lives in many different ways. Let’s begin our time together this evening together by acknowledging our grief by breathing together. Let’s take 10 slow deep breaths together to feel the things we are feeling and honor the role of grief in our lives. 

 

Thank you for participating in this with me. If you would like to share, please go ahead and click on the chat feature in Zoom and share one word that describes a feeling that came up for you as we breathed together. 

I have spent various chunks of the past months feeling my grief and alternatively just wanting everything to be fine. I want to be clear that this evening we are not going to pretend that we are anywhere else but right here, both online and in our various locations, that we are not talking about a time or a place that is outside of a pandemic, protests, or election cycles, but rooted firmly in it. And we are Mormon feminists in this pandemic, believing and not believing —sometimes all at once—active and not, single, married, divorced, living with partner, mourning the loss of a partner, with and without children, queer and not, women of color and white, poor and middle class and wealthy, living with visible and invisible disabilities and not. All of us navigating tricky situations, probably caring for others in one way or another, and spiritually hungry. Maybe even spiritually starving — it has been a long six months. Let’s pause for a moment to take one more deep breath. It has been a long, long six months. 

Our theme for this event is “roots and wings.” And in talking this evening about roots and wings, I want to talk about spiritual practices and art. If you, like me, have resembled a tumbleweed in recent months, then I hope that we can find a way to root ourselves in the metaphorical ground of our lives. Or perhaps we need to take wing and fly with intention. This evening we are going to explore some possibilities, probably some new-to-you spiritual practices, that can assist in this process of grounding and intention, in finding roots and taking wing. 

I would like to begin with a poem by Victoria Safford, who is a Unitarian minister (SLIDE). The poem is titled “Hope” and I think that it helps set us on our path this evening. (See slide for poem).

It is my goal that we can spend some time thinking about the ways that grounding ourselves and finding intention can help us locate hope. And this evening will be all about seeing, all about telling people what we are seeing, asking people what they see, and trying to make some kind of meaning from that experience.

Spiritual Practices Wherever We Are On Our Journeys

I think that spiritual practices can be part of our personal journeys regardless of what our faith or activity level in the LDS Church looks like. When I was active in the LDS Church, my spiritual practices were journaling, scripture reading, prayer, and fasting. For a long time, I was a diligent journaler and then for a long time I was a very regular scripture reader. But when I left the church, and for a long while after, I had an existential crisis every time I felt the impulse to pray: do I really think that God favors the people I love best? Does God intervene in people’s lives? What did it all mean? It is a bit much to experience an existential crisis 5 or more times per day, so I mostly stopped praying for a few years. Scripture reading, something I once loved, now felt untrustworthy and truthfully this is still something I struggle with. Right now I am a seminary student and it is very awkward to ask people to stop quoting the Bible at you because it is not comforting or helpful. 

But that old Mormon list of acceptable spiritual practices—journaling, scripture, prayer, and fasting—is by no means a definitive list of the ways in which we can grow our spiritual selves and lead lives that are connected to spirituality. And I think that a fair bit of spiritual adventuring can be accomplished right at home if you find that you are mostly at home these days. And I want to emphasize that I am quite serious about spiritual adventures—there is a lot of space to experiment and explore if we choose the journey.

At Mormon feminist girls camp, I encountered women who read tarot cards to feed their spirituality and others who gave blessings or lead guided meditations. When I first witnessed these things, I was at once horrified and intrigued. It wasn’t long before I had my own deck of cards and was going through the process of trying to give a blessing for the first time. I know people who do yoga and tai chi to feed their bodies and souls, with YouTube videos to guide them, and those who sit in silent meditation, waiting to welcome whatever thoughts and feelings show up. You might prefer hiking or running. When I was a teenager, my aunt introduced me to a labyrinth but I couldn’t figure out what the point was. These days, I must walk every labyrinth I encounter and I like doing it with my church community. My former pastor sees her primary spiritual practices as walking in nature and sewing. I’ve been through periods of writing mediocre poetry and putting together puzzles with many pieces. I know many women who would probably identify quilting or canning or knitting as their preferred spiritual practices. I think that spiritual practices, whatever we choose, draw us into an action that is filled with intention. We attempt to be present with ourselves and our surroundings and attend to the tasks at hand. We focus the attention we have—fighting the distractions all around us. Whether we are looking for God in these moments or not, that effort often reveals things to us or helps us notice things about ourselves that we did not see before. To put it in the language of Mormonism, spiritual practices may help us find personal revelation. 

Spiritual practices do not rely on particular beliefs and belief is not a prerequisite for spiritual practices. For me, spiritual practices help me feel connected to my body and create in me a sense of groundedness through my physical senses, while other kinds of spiritual practices, like journal writing or blessing, help me find my wings by focusing my intention in ways that are both creative and reflective. And so the key to spiritual practices is that we pay attention (SLIDE). If you, like me, like book recommendations, you might start with Jana Riess’ book Flunking Sainthood: A Year of Breaking the Sabbath, Forgetting to Pray, and Still Loving My Neighbor, where she experiments with a different spiritual practice each month for a year. She willingly acknowledges that she fails at all of them, but still finds meaning and personal strength in the trying and failing—it is why I love this book so much. With spiritual practices, it is the effort, the trying that counts, not the succeeding (SLIDE).

Benedictine nun and theologian Sister Joan Chittister reminds us of this in her book In God’s Holy Light: Wisdom from the Desert Monastics. She writes that “the spiritual life is not about perfection. It is about the direction of the mind, the orientation of the soul, and the beat of the heart.” And so I hope to engage your mind, your soul, and your body in our spiritual practice this evening (SLIDE).

Parker Palmer, a scholar and author whose work is in the areas of spirituality and social change, writes in his book A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey toward an Undivided Life that we all have an “inner teacher” whose wisdom is valuable in our lives. So many things in our lives distract us from that inner wisdom, but spiritual practices reconnect us to our inner teacher and create space to hear what that inner teacher has to say. We might think of this inner teacher as our own wisdom, as the universe reaching out to us, as the Spirit, or even as God. 

The Problems of Contemporary Christian Art

And so this evening we are going to engage in a spiritual practice that centers around images. Before we get too spiritual or reflective, I’d like to make a few comments about contemporary Christian art, both inside and outside the LDS Church. Generally speaking, I feel like there is so much of contemporary Christian art that should come with a warning. In the LDS Church, we have favored a particular kind of art that emphasizes both Jesus and God the Father as white men who save us all (SLIDE). Church leaders have felt that emphasizing these kinds of images are instructive in some way, as though what we really need to know about the divine is present in an image that represents divine beings in a very physical way.

And as we look at other contemporary Christian representations of Jesus, we see similar issues and I cannot disagree enough with this approach to Christian art. And so before we dive into some deep reflection, I’d like us to engage a bit in the spiritual practice of loud laughter. 

A central criticism that I have of much of contemporary Christian painting, specifically, is that the form and strength of Jesus are emphasized. His whiteness is emphasized, along with his manhood (SLIDE). And while these examples are extreme His role as *the* white savior is emphasized (SLIDE). And a more contemporary corporate power Jesus doesn’t feel any more appealing (SLIDE). And Jesus hugging people is just creepy (SLIDE). And somehow these artists have managed to represent so many of the things I struggle with in Christianity, without any of the beauty. And if you do find some of these paintings meaningful, that is totally fine. As an art historian of Christian art, I have earned my cynicism. Religious art is never divorced from politics. The choices that artists make about how to represent Jesus and the divine matter. They *always* have.

And because of that, I would like to invite us away from art that represents the divine in an explicit way and toward art that suggests the divine in other ways. 

Introduce Visio Divina

Some of you may have heard of the sacred reading practice called lectio divina, which is a practice that uses guiding questions to move readers from literal interpretations of the text to identify more figurative and then to practical applications of the text. It is the central spiritual practice that my tiny congregation practices most Sundays. Today, we will be engaging a variant of this by focusing on an image—a work of art—instead of a text. As an art historian and a professor, I’ve spent a great deal of time engaged in a variety of close looking practices and teaching students to look, connecting bigger ideas with what they can observe visually. Just as lectio divina invites us to read carefully and attentively, visio divina also invites us to look carefully and attentively.

Me Discovering Visio Divina by Accident

I think I first stumbled into visio divina, though I did not have a name for it at the time, when I was an undergraduate at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. I spent one summer in Edinburgh working in the basement of a bank. When I was not in the bank, I was typically in the National Gallery of Scotland taking in the collection very slowly. I became especially enamored with this particular painting in the collection: John Singer Sargent’s portrait of Lady Agnew of Lochnaw (SLIDE). I was 19 at the time and I was so interested in her expression (SLIDE). Was she coy? Amused? Sad? Disappointed? The more time I spent looking, the more I saw and the painting took on different meanings to me while also holding all of the previous meanings simultaneously. 

I also came to understand that what I was doing in the gallery was not art history. The paintings became a way for me to reflect and that works of art sometimes spoke to my present situation in a way that was outside of art history and closer to spiritual reflection. The following summer I got a job as a security guard in that same museum and spent a great deal of time observing and connecting with art and observing people as they observed art. What I discovered was that most people spend far more time reading the informational cards next to works of art, with a quick glance at the painting and then onto the next informational card. People often seemed in a rush and lacked the time and patience to look with their full attention.

Introduce Visio Divina

Another painting in the same room as the Sargent has stuck with me for more than 20 years (SLIDE). It is Vincent van Gogh’s Olive Trees. I love this painting, in part, for its textures. I can see the tan canvas underneath the paint and the paint is laid so thickly on top of it—think and kinda gloppy. This is not an explicitly religious painting. No one modeled for the figure of Jesus dressed in a bedsheet. But I have always seen it as having deeply spiritual content. I’d like to explore this painting with you through the visio divina process.

Engaging Visio Divina

In our visio divina process today, we are going to move through a series of questions, which I will share with you in the chat and on the screen, so you can refer back to them.

We will ask and answer these questions:

What do I see in this painting?What does this painting remind me of?What does the story in this painting have to do with me?What kind of invitation do I sense in this painting? What is the painting calling me to do?

Let’s come back to our painting. If you want to explore this painting on your own while we do this, there is a high resolution of this painting available through Google Arts and Culture. I will post this link in the chat feature in Zoom

Our first question for today is “What do we see in this painting?” Let’s pause for a whole minute to look closely. At the end of our minute of close looking, we will have the opportunity to share what we are seeing in the chat, but we are only going to stick to simple visual observations. 

What do you see in this painting? If you want to share an observation that you have, go ahead and share it in the chat.

I can’t help but fixate on this fiery detail in the olive tree, which shines so brightly against the dark colors all around it. It seems like these three brushstrokes are so careful, while all of the rest of them seem more chaotic.

Let’s move on to our next question. Where have you seen something similar? What other stories does this remind you of? Let’s pause again for one minute while we look and reflect. 

In this fiery detail, I am reminded of the story of Moses and the burning bush, where the burning bush is an image of the divine that speaks to Moses, calling him to a new and different path in life. 

I am also reminded of some poorly scripted seminary videos about the pruning of olive trees, but to me, this tree seems wild and untamed, definitely not under the control of the gardner.

With the next question, we ask ourselves what does this story in this painting have to do with us? Again, let’s pause for a minute to continue to look and consider.

For myself, I see the divine present not in those seminary stories of the tame olive tree, but in the wildness of this scene, in its intensity, in the awkward angles of the branches and trunks of these trees. The God of this orchard swirls and hovers with an intensity and energy that I find intriguing. 

Where do we sense an invitation in this painting? What is the painting inviting us to do? 

For me, I feel that the painting is inviting me to see the sacred in the chaos of this larger moment. The pandemic, the election, the fires, the flood we experienced a few weeks ago in my own house, all cause me to fear and grieve. But fear and grief are not the only things present in my life right now, which is also full of small moments of joy and relief from the fear. These moments of relief feel to me like the sacred in the middle of the chaos, which seems both beautiful and a difficult paradox to hold.

This exercise focused on a single painting that speaks to me, but you might find other art, abstract or more realistic, that speaks to your spiritual journey. I have been a big fan of the art in the Exponent II magazine, which represents spiritually-oriented art being created in our Mormon feminist community.

Blessing/Sending Forth

I have more slides available to you for our breakout sessions, with a few works of art and the same guiding questions we used just now. I’m going to post a link to these slides in the chat.

Thank you for sharing your time and thoughts with us this evening. I would like to end with a blessing.

A blessing for learning to see

May we open our eyes wide
Wider
Take a deep breath in
Take it all in
May we observe more carefully
Pay attention with more intent
Allow ourselves to make meaning of it all
And not numb ourselves to our own hardships
Lest we cut ourselves off from our empathy
Give us patience and strength to do this without overwhelm
May we see our sensitivity, our grief, our empathy, or anger
As divine blessings calling us to respond to a suffering world
To a suffering self
Amen

Book Review: Miracles Among the Rubble

[image error]Miracles among the Rubble is sincerely unlike any book I have ever read. Written and edited by women, the book is a lyrical collection of stories from the life of the author, Carol R. Gray. This probably sounds overtly simple. And it is. Yet it isn’t. Because Carol was an adviser to the United Nations and the British Ministry of Defense during the Balkans crisis.

 

I feel like I can call her Carol. Usually when I review books, I use the author’s surname. But I feel like Carol was one of those truly remarkable people who is a friend to all. And think Carol would not mind if I called her by her first name. After all, in preparation for her first visit to war-torn Croatia in her aptly named “Convoy of Hope”, the only Croatian phrases she learned were “Volimo te. Ya vas volim.” Translated, these words mean, “We love you. I love you.” (14)

 

In the age of “humble brags”, Carol comes across as IS one of the most sincere and unpretentious authors I’ve had the opportunity to meet through only words. In her book, we learn about her quickly and simply. She believes in God. She is married. She has children. She has cancer. She does her best to think well of everyone. She thanks God and tries to follow what she feels are spiritual promptings. Emphasizing this last statement, she decided to deliver food, clothes, medicine, and water purifying machines to Bosnia and Croatia.  Here she makes over thirty trips in as many years to Balkan war battle-worn refugee camps, eventually bringing books, musical instruments, hospital beds and more. Mostly, she brought love.

 

Each chapter is an independent essay.  The book primarily includes chapters on her visits to and in refugee, but she includes additional chapters about her and her life. One such chapter tells us about her organization being donated an incredibly old truck that, while generous, she thought might not even make it to her house. She tells us about driving on the autobahn in Germany in a snow storm in a vehicle heavily laden with donations. She tells us about a tiny bit about her cancer diagnosis. And she shares with us her deathly fear of water as she faced crossing a pontoon bridge to make a delivery. But mostly, she tells you about the miracles she sees in others. I particularly enjoyed one chapter about a man who was well qualified to volunteer in her delivery convoy, yet insisted that he was not a hugging person, would not hug and would not be participating her any “huggy affairs.” (89). You can sense how this chapter ends. But because Carol looks for meaning and connection in every one she meets, you are still hooked on reading her words through to the end. And it is worth it.

 

Clearly, I recommend this book, for a number of reasons. Firstly, the book is easy to read and relatable. [image error]Though the author is a Latter-day Saint, she never pushes her beliefs on you, her goal is to serve and learn. It is pure. It is pure enough, in my opinion, for a general audience, not just an LDS audience. Secondly, I love that this author is not American. There. I said it. Look, I love American LDS authors. But I also crave reading and sharing the experiences of non-American Mormon women. I feel like their experiences teach me wonderfully unusual things about the church, the gospel and their lives. Thirdly, as a busy parent, or for those who are busy professionals, it can be difficult to carve out a moment to read an entire book. The chapters in this book are not long, making it similar to a collection of short stories on a theme. In this, it is achievable for busy readers to finish in their own time.

 

As I tend to pre-shop for Christmas, I have added this book to my list as a preferred gift. I think it is a good choice for women, men and even teens. Honestly, I like the idea of gifting it to men so they can see the power and humility of a woman who is determined to bring more love into the world. But I also know that my mother would love it (act surprised when you get it, Mum!). Miracles Among the Rubble is published by Greg Kofford Books. The paperback version can be purchased at Amazon for $17.95. 

Guest Post: Things I Wish I Knew As A Single Latter Day Saint

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By: Ramona Morris

I never wanted to get married.

I never wanted to get married.

I NEVER WANTED TO GET MARRIED!

Before joining the church just before my twenty-fourth birthday, I had always stood firm that marriage wasn’t in my plans.

When most girls were crushing on boys, I had my life planned out to the smallest detail. I would become a reporter who travelled all over the world looking for amazing stories. I made several phone calls to fertility clinics to find out how I could become a mother without needing to sign my life away by something as boring as marriage.

Years later, my life plan hasn’t worked out too well. I’ve travelled a bit, fell in and out of love (with the bad boys who were no good in my life) and given up my dreams of becoming a journalist.

One thing that has changed a lot is my views on marriage. Now I’m not saying I’m out here looking for my Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet and we gallop off to the nearest temple to be sealed for time and all eternity but I can say that I’ve gone from abhorring the thought of marriage to actually considering it a little more than I thought I ever would.

Still, in recent years I haven’t been able to enjoy dating. There is so much pressure on young Latter-Day Saints to find the one, pop out a few kids and raise their families in the gospel that even the most innocent of conversations between friends can alert those pushy elders whose sole purpose is to rush us rebellious single saints down to the nearest courthouse and off to the nearest temple.

I first felt that pressure when I attended a YSA temple trip in 2018 in the Dominican Republic. I convinced myself that I was not on the trip to find a husband and focused on teaching a dating workshop and preparing myself to receive my endowments. Still, I received messages inquiring whether I was searching for a potential companion on the trip or if I planned to waste the opportunity to be around so many other young single adults.

When I visited Idaho/Utah months later, the pressure followed. Now in the “Mecca” of dating for Latter Day Saints, I was expected to return home with a viable candidate.

I wish we taught young single adults the importance of being alone, discovering who they are and becoming the best version of ourselves before seeking out our eternal companion. I wish we’d stop guilt tripping those of us who choose to focus on our education over finding someone to love.

My biggest wish is that we would stop the culture of marriage shaming. You know what I mean. It’s the belief that unless someone is married, that they won’t be happy. It means that some of us don’t get excited by weddings or engagements but just feel immense anxiety knowing that unless we have someone to love as well, that any communication that doesn’t cheer for a quick marriage the loudest is seen as jealousy and bitterness.

So even as I approach my 29th birthday next year, I recognize the importance that finding myself and jumping headfirst into marriage isn’t a massive timeline that I need to undertake to make someone else happy.

Sure, it means people will probably stop throwing the bouquet and hand it to me personally in hopes that my dream guy will be right around the corner. It may mean that I have to travel some more to find myself. It may even mean that I might never get married in this lifetime.

What it doesn’t make me is bitter, unafraid or unmoved by love.

It just means that for right now, I’m just living my life differently…

 

Ramona Morris is a sassy-day saint from the small Caribbean island of Barbados. In her almost four years as a member, she’s dealt with the good, bad, and in-between of being a convert to the church. Her goal is to live the gospel as sassily as she can. Follow her on Instagram at sassydaysaint 

Goblins and Jesus

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My kids explore Goblin Valley, Utah

After over an hour’s drive from the already remote campsite where we were staying, we arrived at Goblin Valley State Park, Utah. I had fond memories of coming here with my parents when I was a child, exploring the maze of hoodoos and climbing on the strange, goblin-shaped rock formations, but I had never taken my own kids here until now. It was just too far away from absolutely everything to make for a convenient travel destination.

We got out of the car and stood at the overlook.

My youngest frowned at the view in front of him. “Why did people make this out here?” he asked.

“People didn’t make it,” I told him. “God made it.”

“Jesus made it?” His mouth dropped open in shock. “Why did Jesus do that? What is it for?”

When my kids complain about objectionable features of nature — like bees, or snakes, or rain at a ball game — I can usually explain how important such things are to our fragile ecosystem. But I was at a loss. What was Goblin Valley for? I had no idea. And I hadn’t really intended to blame Jesus for it. My words had been flippant, not theological.

My son kept talking. This place was too far away and too hot and way too weird. Jesus should have known better.

His brow furrowed. What was he to think of a god who could produce such flawed design? How could he reconcile the thousands of acres of nonsense spread out before him in the vista with the perfect Jesus he had been taught about at church?

I tried to course-correct. Not theology; geology. I tossed some science in his general direction: erosion and plate tectonics and stuff about the water pocket fold that I had heard in the informational video we watched at Capitol Reef National Park the day before.

My son looked thoughtful.

“Maybe Jesus made it here because there’s no room for this in the city,” he said.

Crisis of faith averted? Probably not, but either way, we moved onto the trail and descended into Goblin Valley.

An [almost perfect] Imperfect Roundness

[image error]I have been hungry for this book for as long as I’ve known Melody Newey Johnson. We met virtually as bloggers on the Exponent listserv, where we discuss blog business, swap stories, and create surprisingly deep disembodied friendships. I still have imagery from her emails etched in my imagination: an angel flying above a car with a pregnant woman inside; Mozart playing during shoulder surgery; open mouthed laughter with an old new love; and water transformed into wine and hearts of stone into flesh.

Melody’s first book of poems, An Imperfect Roundness, published by BCC Press is available on Amazon and well worth the wait. The title comes from a poem of the same name, and describes a belly as a “moon full of baby, an imperfect roundness, heavy with hope.” These few lines capture much of what I love about her poetry: nature blended with motherhood blended with deity blended with ordinary. All of it pregnant with possibilities. It’s a compelling combination that she folds and morphs into extremely satisfying poetry.  And the image above was drawn by Melody as an expression of that concept.

Because Melody draws on topics and objects that are part of our daily lives, it might be tempting to be fooled by their accessibility. But like a good parable or a poem of Emily Dickinson, the simplicity invites you in, and the depth keeps you returning for more. I was delighted to discover that Melody herself sees a kinship with Dickinson as I read “Sabbath-Keeping” which, like Dickinson’s  “Some keep the Sabbath going to Church,” shares the belief that holiness is not relegated to a day of the week or a building. Melody’s version is about gardening on a Sunday, which she calls a “communion, meditation, reunion,” and asks the reader to “join me, bow your head and listen with me for God’s word in soil.” In her soil it’s easy to recall the faith of the mustard seed, the Tree of Life, grafting branches, holy land.

Reunion is a theme she traces throughout the book. Reunion with Mother/Father/Jesus, reunion with ancestors and the earth, and in “More Than This. And Less” she even shows a reunion with past and future versions of ourselves. But I think my favorite expression of this is in “Maybe This is Heaven,” which describes a literal high school reunion. Somehow she transforms what for most of us is one of the most awkward and disappointing affairs into a lifetime of shared memories and the embodiment of kindness.

Melody is a nurse and you can feel how comfortable she is using words to create flesh and corporeality: “You began as a curve, a comma in your mother’s womb.” This background in biology combined with her deep spirituality allows her to see the divinity in everything and everyone around her. She takes this divinity and wraps and shapes it into ordinary objects, an apple, a snail, sheets, and offers them to us as gifts. And as is the case with the best gifts, I am eager to share the joy I have received.

 

 

A Blessing On Your House

[image error]“My dream Farm house” by Bindaas Madhavi
https://flic.kr/p/5CZGfN

New Beginnings come in fall.

To my friends:

Divorcing ones rebuilding

A blessing on your house – new or newly yours

On those who stay with you.

To babies born amidst a plague

Live and cry and laugh;

Insist upon a brash existence

Move, and be moved, as long as you are here.

For mothers who carry

in arms or womb or heart

Breathe, and breathe easy

May endless devotion yield purpose;

May you rest and rise again.

To the wedding ones-

May joy diffuse through golden leaves, today shine in your hearts.

A new house – your house

Let love and joy abound.

To the dear ones – the lonely, happy, living, dying ones:

A blessing on your house

On your literal house

On the garden and on the lawn

May there be peace and space and growth.

A blessing on your head, on your literal head

On your work, your lives, your children

On your children’s children’s children.

Personal Revelation and My Future Self

One of the things I love about the church is its emphasis on personal revelation. The theology of having the Holy Ghost, a member of the Godhead, as a constant companion is beautiful to me. The frustrating paradox is that culturally I have learned to trust personal guidance unless it goes against the prophet – in which case external authority trumps internal wisdom. In a hierarchical church that does not ordain women, this leaves too many vulnerable to abuse. This can range from women being counseled to conform to gender roles rather than pursuing a career, to more pernicious cases from our history, such as pressure to marry the prophet.

In my personal journey to cling to the truths I love and let go of beliefs that do not draw me closer to God, I have reexamined many aspects of the gospel, often seeing things with new eyes thanks to more life experience and wisdom gleaned from other faith traditions. One of my favorite meditation teachers, Tara Brach, often talks about accessing the future self or awakened heart. I love the idea of reaching out to myself 20, 30, or 50 years from now and imagining the wisdom, care, and kindness I would offer myself on my journey.

It has been taught by Joseph Smith that time exists only to man and that God dwells in the eternal now. It has also been taught that we are children of Heavenly Parents and will one day be Gods ourselves. If one day I am a Goddess and therefore also dwell in the eternal now, then theoretically my current, temporary, limited self could reach out to that future, perfect, whole, awakened self. I imagine my future self has a perfect love for me and is quite invested in my progression. I might even call my future self a constant companion, for I do not believe I could ever abandon myself. I do hope however, that my future self will nudge me to examine my false beliefs, my prejudices and biases that I am blind to. This will take slowing down and learning to listen to my voice within.

Listening is something I have practiced in the church. I sang as a child, “Listen, listen, the still small voice will whisper.” But I was also taught that I had to be worthy to receive that guidance. I was taught if I wasn’t standing in holy places the Holy Ghost would leave me. The emphasis on worthiness in the church can lead to a harmful cycle of perfectionism and self-doubt – if we aren’t warned of danger or if we strive for a testimony that just doesn’t come, it must be our fault for not trying hard enough or failing to keep some commandment.

I recently was talking to a friend who has long been out of the church. Pregnant at 15, she was spared excommunication only because her father, a former bishop, advocated on her behalf. She asked me and another friend what she had to do to be worthy to receive a patriarchal blessing. We told her we were unsure what the church would declare, but we were confident she was worthy to receive guidance and wisdom in her life and would love to give her a matriarchal blessing – calling on the wisdom of Mother Earth, the Goddesses, and her own soul. It was beautiful to watch her preparation throughout the day as she took the time to reflect, connecting deep within herself as she searched for guidance. That night, under a brilliant, starry sky, the three of us held hands and took turns offering a blessing of love and wisdom. It was a powerful moment where I truly sensed the beauty and wholeness of my friend’s soul.

In last week’s General Conference, Michelle D. Craig, spoke on having eyes to see. She talked of the importance of seeing others and ourselves deeply. “Perhaps the most important things for us to see clearly are who God is and who we really are—sons and daughters of heavenly parents, with a ‘divine nature and eternal destiny.’” I am grateful for Christ’s example of seeing people for who they truly are. I believe his knowledge of each individual’s worth helped him treat each person with patience and love.

I hope one day to see myself and others with a lens of perfect love as Christ did. For me it has been helpful to call on the wisdom of my future self. This is an excerpt from Tara Brach’s meditation, Calling on Your Future Self.

Imagine your future self can communicate by filling you with their awareness, allowing you to look with their eyes. See with their heart. Feel with their heart. And with the presence of your future self, witness now how your small self is stuck. Through those eyes of wisdom see the ways your beliefs or attitudes might be limiting you. And with kindness, see the suffering that goes with self judgment… Sense your future self offering their love and care to the vulnerable small self inside. Let the care of your future self in, the forgiveness, the acceptance. And listen and sense whatever message, whatever reminder your future self is offering to you right now. What is it that your future self wants you to trust and to know? Sense how the love and the wisdom of your most evolved being lives in you now and always. This loving awareness is here to guide you and support you.

Whatever language or images we use, I hope we each can better come to trust what we know deep within ourselves, even and especially when it goes against external church authority. As Tara said, let us “sense how the love and the wisdom of your most evolved being lives in you now and always.”

Christlike Attributes, Implicit Bias, and Loving Your BIPOC Neighbor as Yourself

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By Michelle Franzoni Thorley

In the October 2020 General Conference, I was struck by the address from Elder Scott D. Whiting, “Becoming Like Him.”  In this talk he spoke about the process of attaining Christ like attributes. He spoke about being brave enough to look inside and see where we might improve. He even spoke about the possibility of being unaware of imperfections we have. This immediately made me think of implicit bias – the attitudes or stereotypes that affect our understanding, actions, and decisions in an unconscious manner. 

Elder Whiting goes on to say “If we are honest with ourselves, the Light of Christ within us whispers that there is distance between where we are in comparison with the desired character of the Savior. Such honesty is vital if we are to progress in becoming like Him. Indeed, honesty is one of His attributes. Now, those of us who are brave might consider asking a trusted family member, spouse, friend, or spiritual leader what attribute of Jesus Christ we are in need of—and we may need to brace ourselves for the response! Sometimes we see ourselves with distorted fun-house mirrors that show us either much more round or much more lean than we really are.” 

Most people I know are pretty sure they are not racist, and yet their implicit and unconscious biases say otherwise. If you are not actively educating yourself about how racism functions both physically and socially, you are not qualified to say if you are racist or not. Even BIPOC grapple with internalized racism and colorism. There is very little chance that non-BIPOC individuals, (white people) are free of racial biases. 

Racial educator Robin DiAngelo says “As a white person seeking to be accountable, I must continually ask myself, “How do I know how I am doing?” 

To answer this question, I need to check in and find out. I can do this in several ways, including: by directly asking Black, Indigenous, and Peoples of Color with whom I have trusting relationships and who have agreed to offer me this feedback; talking to other white people who have an antiracist framework, and reading the work of Black, and Indigenous Peoples. Ultimately it is for Black, Indigenous and Peoples of Color to decide if I am actually behaving in antiracist ways. 

Usually the first example people give me to prove that they’re “not racist” is “I have a Black/Hispanic/Asian/person of color friend/family member/coworker, so therefore I couldn’t possibly be racist.” 

Here is DiAngelo again: “Sociologists actually have a term for it, it’s called the inoculation case. ‘I’ve been near people of color and it’s stripped me of my racism.’ I want you to notice how often white people invoke proximity as evidence…apparently a lot of white people think that a racist cannot tolerate any proximity even the sight of people of color. And so if there’s any friendliness across race there cannot be racism.”

Proximity to people of color does not negate your racism. Sadly, it does not remove your implicit biases. Using proximity as your defense only shows how racially illiterate you are. Education, soul searching and practice are the only ways to uproot feelings of white superiority and racism. There are many people in my life who I love and that love me who hold racist beliefs. 

No amount of physical attraction, compassionate service, trips to other countries or friendships can uproot racism. And let me just take a moment to talk about the “friends and family” defense. If you have friends or family that are people of color and they don’t talk to you about race and racism, that is a good indicator that you are not a safe person to talk to about racism and using them as your “I’m not a racist card” is not going to help you. If you’re not sure, try asking them, “Would you feel comfortable talking about race issues with me? Is there anything you’d recommend about what I could do better?” 

DiAngelo also says “Building relationships across race will require most white people to get out of their comfort zones and put themselves in new and unfamiliar environments. This is different from our usual approach in which we invite Black, Indigenous and Peoples of Color into committees, boards, and places of worship – groups white people already control. We often do this when we have done no work to expand our own consciousness and developed no skill or strategy in navigating race. In effect we are inviting Black, Indigenous and Peoples of Color into hostile water, then we are dismayed and confused when they choose to leave.”

In Psalm 139: 23-24 it says “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” 

Even more important than asking the BIPOC in your life to exonerate you from being racist, I believe we all should go to God and ask what He thinks. And when He tells you there is work to do in loving your neighbor better, find resources such as books or podcasts that can help you become more racially literate. Do the work. 

I know that uprooting racism and implicit biases from our hearts is a big part of the second greatest commandment to “love thy neighbor as thyself.” We cannot love someone else with equal measure if there is even a drop of belief, unconscious or learned, that we are in some way superior. Doing the personal work of anti-racism is one of the most Christlike things we can do. 

Elder Whiting urges us on in this process:  “As we progress, we become more complete, finished, and fully developed. Such teaching is not based on any one sect’s doctrines but comes directly from the Master Himself. It is through this lens that lives should be lived, communications considered, and relationships fostered. Truly, there is no other way to heal the wounds of broken relationships or of a fractured society than for each of us to more fully emulate the Prince of Peace.”

Michelle Franzoni Thorley is a Mexican-American visual artist. Her work synthesizes passion for family history work and reclamation of diverse racial heritage for the Indigenous American diaspora. Inspired by the stories of her own mixed ancestry, Michelle shares her artistic journey of self discovery and the veil that separates life from death through symbolic use of color, plants, portraits and scenes of the inter-generational healing that takes place by embracing all the good ancestors. You can follow her extraordinary work about family history, anti-racist education, generational trauma, and art at @flora_familiar on Instagram.  Prints of her art pieces are available on her website florafamiliar.com