Exponent II's Blog, page 175

Compassionate Self-Kindness; #CopingWithCovid19

[image error]I follow the news of New York State closely because I grew up there, have family and friends there – and because it is so compelling and raw.

I see the hospitals overflowing; the dead placed in tractor trailers because there is no room in the morgue. I know that family members cannot go into the hospitals and be with their sick and dying loved one. I also visualize the countless nurses and doctors who are there, holding – albeit with gloves – the hands of the sick. The news reports say these people are dying alone, but I know they are not alone.

I still have a nursing license from New York. Earlier this week I was called by a member of Governor Cuomo’s task force asking if I would be willing to go to New York and work during this pandemic. My heart broke as I said no.

I have legitimate reason to say no. They all ran through my mind in a flash.

– I’m older now.

– I have several preexisting health conditions.

– My daughter is expecting a baby soon and may need me. Her husband is a doctor and he might be exposed.

– I’m already working full time as a nurse and would need permission from my employer to leave my current position to go to NY

– I haven’t been a bedside nurse in many years.

– I might be needed here when the pandemic gets worse in my area.

Despite these reasons, I knew if I really wanted to go, I would find a way. I would get permission.

In a moment of truth, I saw my shadow – the part of me that holds fear. The real reason I said no was because I was afraid. I sat and cried thinking of all the nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, pharmacists, radiology staff, EMT, police, fire-fighters, and other first responders – even grocery clerks who are saying yes. I felt ashamed for not stepping up. I wrestled with myself all day and into the night.

During the night, I saw myself and the situation more clearly. My personality is one that values work and productivity; doing something and achieving results. I was judging my own worth based on my utility and employment. That is flawed reasoning. We all are worthy regardless of our utility or productivity.

This week in my sangha group we discussed compassionate self-kindness.

We were asked to acknowledge:

1) where and how we are each suffering

2) we are not alone in our suffering

3) we can respond with kindness, not criticism

I completed the exercise and had an ‘Aha Moment.’ I realized that I was having a bit of PTSD. I was being triggered. I opened the door and grace walked in. I felt peace for the first time in weeks. I share my exercise with you.

I acknowledge my suffering during this pandemic.

I am identifying with the nurses who are working in dire situations.

I am visualizing the dying all over the world.

I am remembering my many years in oncology and HIV care, at the bedside of those who were dying.

I am remembering how it felt to be overwhelmed with patient care assignments.

I am recalling the death of my own mother, on an April day, years ago, when our entire family was able to be at her bedside and thinking of the families today are saying final words via phone.

I am feeling the grief of the separated, those in quarantine, those who cannot be near their loved ones.

I acknowledge that I am not alone in this suffering.

I hope and pray that those on the front lines of COVID-19 can feel my support for them.

I acknowledge the community around me including family, neighbors, friends, ward and sangha members.

I acknowledge my current work as a nurse allows me opportunity to dialogue with others, sharing relevant information and holding space for hope.

I can respond with kindness, not criticism, both to myself and others.

I am a complex being. I am neither brave nor afraid all the time.

I am more than the thoughts I think or the emotions I feel.

I can embrace my whole self, including my shadow.

I can see myself as worthy no matter what I am or am not doing at this moment.

I can apply these ideas to others.

Today, I ask you to join me in a moment of silence.

– a moment for those who are suffering and dying

– a moment for those who are recovering and living

– a moment for those who are rushing in to help, carrying the cross with the sick

– a moment for those who cannot go to a tomb to weep

– a moment for those who experience fear

– a moment for those who will experience PTSD during and after COVID-19

Holy Week is here on the calendar.

We can’t jump from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday. We must go through the entire week together including the darker days of suffering and the time of separation. Eventually we will emerge from our homes. The doors will open like a stone being rolled away. We will hug our neighbors and kiss our family again. We will gather in groups and sing songs of resurrection.

In the meantime, be kind to yourself.

Maranatha. Come, our Lord. Come quickly.

Discussion:

If it is helpful, try this exercise:

1. Acknowledge where and how you are suffering. Write it down.

2. Acknowledge you are not alone in this. Name your support systems

3. Acknowledge you can respond with kindness, not criticism of yourself and others. Catch

yourself when you are being judgmental or harsh. Accept yourself as you are.

Out of the Best Books (and Movies) #CopingWithCOVID19

[image error]

Since my public libraries have been closed for our Shelter in Place for almost 3 weeks ago, I’ve not been able to get physical books to read, but I have been looking at the digital offerings my library has. My local library gives us access to Hoopla and Kanopy for free. Hoopla has free ebooks, audiobooks, music, movies, and an especially large collection of graphic novels. Kanopy is a collection of movies, many independent and documentary films. As I was perusing the offerings on Hoopla one day, I ran into a book by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. I was surprised to see her work there! So I looked into what other LDS/Mormon/feministy books and movies there were and I thought I’d share them here in case your library also gives you access to these books and movies. Enjoy for shelter-in-place or as a part of your uplifting Conference weekend.

Hoopla



[image error]



Non-Fiction



A House Full of Females (audiobook), by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. Here’s a little bit about this book on our blog. The Politics Of American Religious Identity: The Seating Of Senator Reed Smoot, Mormon Apostle (ebook) by Kathleen Flake. Here’s a review of this book in BYU Studies.A Book of Mormons (ebook) by  Emily W. Jensen, Tracy McKay-Lamb, Janan Graham-RussellThe Next Mormons (audiobook) by Jana Riess. This one was mentioned in our 2019 book list.Saving Alex: When I Was Fifteen I Told My Mormon Parents I Was Gay, and That’s When My Nightmare Began (ebook) by Alex Cooper and Joanna Brooks. This was adapted into a Lifetime movie last year.Race and the Making of the Mormon People (ebook) by Max Perry Mueller. Mueller was interviewed on our Religious Feminism podcast a couple of years ago.From Mormon to Mystic: Journey Through Religious Ideology into Awakened Liberation (ebook) by Erin Jensen. I don’t know much about this one, but I think reading women’s stories is very important.Faithfully Feminist (ebook) by Gina Messina-Dysert, Jennifer Zobair, Amy Levin. Here’s the review on our blog.



Fiction



The Bishop’s Wife (audiobook) by Mette Harrison (our review here). She hosted a virtual book club about it this week and shared it on YouTube. Hoopla also has part 2, His Right Hand (audiobook), but not the 3rd book of the series. However, it does have the fourth (ebook), Not of This Fold.The Scholar of Moab (ebook) by Steven L. Peck. By Common Consent has a review here.



Music

If you’d like something to complement Conference Weekend, there is a lot of Mormon Tabernacle Choir. If you’d like to listen to something more sacrilegious, The Book of Mormon original Broadway Cast Recording is available, too.

Kanopy



[image error]



Once I was a Beehive, a fictional film about girl’s camp. Jess R mentions it here.10 Towns that Changed America. This is a PBS film about urban planning that highlights the planning of Salt Lake City.I Had An Abortion. This film is a documentary of 10 women sharing their lives and abortion stories, including Mormon-raised Jenny Egan.Who Does She Think She Is? This documentary follows female artists, including LDS sculptor, Janis Wunderlich.In the Turn. Another documentary! This one is of a 10 year old trans girl who gets into roller derby and learns of the Vagine Regime, an international queer roller derby collective. One of the member of Vagine Regime, Summer Crush, is a former Mormon.Chaplains. Although this is not particularly Mormon, chaplaincy is a calling multiple Exponent bloggers and former bloggers have served in. I thought this documentary might be a soothing option for your shelter-in-place.

Hoopla and Kanopy are what I am most familiar with- but if you have other free media sites that your public libraries offer to you, feel free to share your Mormon and feminist-y findings!

Out of the Best Books (and Movies)

[image error]

Since my public libraries have been closed for our Shelter in Place for almost 3 weeks ago, I’ve not been able to get physical books to read, but I have been looking at the digital offerings my library has. My local library gives us access to Hoopla and Kanopy for free. Hoopla has free ebooks, audiobooks, music, movies, and an especially large collection of graphic novels. Kanopy is a collection of movies, many independent and documentary films. As I was perusing the offerings on Hoopla one day, I ran into a book by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. I was surprised to see her work there! So I looked into what other LDS/Mormon/feministy books and movies there were and I thought I’d share them here in case your library also gives you access to these books and movies. Enjoy for shelter-in-place or as a part of your uplifting Conference weekend.

Hoopla



[image error]



Non-Fiction



A House Full of Females (audiobook), by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. Here’s a little bit about this book on our blog. The Politics Of American Religious Identity: The Seating Of Senator Reed Smoot, Mormon Apostle (ebook) by Kathleen Flake. Here’s a review of this book in BYU Studies.A Book of Mormons (ebook) by  Emily W. Jensen, Tracy McKay-Lamb, Janan Graham-RussellThe Next Mormons (audiobook) by Jana Riess. This one was mentioned in our 2019 book list.Saving Alex: When I Was Fifteen I Told My Mormon Parents I Was Gay, and That’s When My Nightmare Began (ebook) by Alex Cooper and Joanna Brooks. This was adapted into a Lifetime movie last year.Race and the Making of the Mormon People (ebook) by Max Perry Mueller. Mueller was interviewed on our Religious Feminism podcast a couple of years ago.From Mormon to Mystic: Journey Through Religious Ideology into Awakened Liberation (ebook) by Erin Jensen. I don’t know much about this one, but I think reading women’s stories is very important.Faithfully Feminist (ebook) by Gina Messina-Dysert, Jennifer Zobair, Amy Levin. Here’s the review on our blog.



Fiction



The Bishop’s Wife (audiobook) by Mette Harrison (our review here). She hosted a virtual book club about it this week and shared it on YouTube. Hoopla also has part 2, His Right Hand (audiobook), but not the 3rd book of the series. However, it does have the fourth (ebook), Not of This Fold.The Scholar of Moab (ebook) by Steven L. Peck. By Common Consent has a review here.



Music

If you’d like something to complement Conference Weekend, there is a lot of Mormon Tabernacle Choir. If you’d like to listen to something more sacrilegious, The Book of Mormon original Broadway Cast Recording is available, too.

Kanopy



[image error]



Once I was a Beehive, a fictional film about girl’s camp. Jess R mentions it here.10 Towns that Changed America. This is a PBS film about urban planning that highlights the planning of Salt Lake City.I Had An Abortion. This film is a documentary of 10 women sharing their lives and abortion stories, including Mormon-raised Jenny Egan.Who Does She Think She Is? This documentary follows female artists, including LDS sculptor, Janis Wunderlich.In the Turn. Another documentary! This one is of a 10 year old trans girl who gets into roller derby and learns of the Vagine Regime, an international queer roller derby collective. One of the member of Vagine Regime, Summer Crush, is a former Mormon.Chaplains. Although this is not particularly Mormon, chaplaincy is a calling multiple Exponent bloggers and former bloggers have served in. I thought this documentary might be a soothing option for your shelter-in-place.

Hoopla and Kanopy are what I am most familiar with- but if you have other free media sites that your public libraries offer to you, feel free to share your Mormon and feminist-y findings!

The Clouds Are Swirling #CopingWithCOVID19

[image error]Cover art by Miriam Tribe. Read Tribe’s artist statement below and see more of her work here.

The following is the letter from the editor, by Pandora Brewer, for the Spring 2020 issue of Exponent II. To receive a copy of this issue, please subscribe at our store by April 15.

I am in my house. With the exception of two grocery store visits and a daily walk, I have been in my house for 14 days going on unknown. It is March 2020. In the future, we will study this time with the long view of before and after. In the moment, it is waking up and not being sure what day it is, aware of an aching anxiety that hits you like cold air as you throw back the blankets, taking those first steps into a day that will fall in somewhere between your mundane four walls and a catastrophic black hole. 

I am fortunate. I am still working, my husband and I are friends, he loves to cook so we have interesting food, and I am a person who can putter and tinker alone for hours with no concept of boredom. But I also work in an industry that has been shut down and am watching years of hard work ebb away. I have people I love at the front lines of medical support and exposure. My parents are at high risk ages. My children live away and I can’t get to them quickly if they need something. This is a time of contrasts and I find myself drifting in a sea of floating icebergs. I collide into seemingly normal emotions and yet the impact feels so much bigger, so much more than I expected or could see coming. I am suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of response to what would have been a simple shrug. 

It is almost impossible to hide from or minimize the amplification of these reactions because most of us have lost the membrane between our inside and the outside world. How ironic that we are sheltered in place and yet are battered by unending streams of information from every place. We know every opinion, every conundrum, every statistic, every entertainment option, every misstep, every risk, it all flows into our brain like the mind controlling screens in some dystopian nightmare. As a result, I am more grateful than I ever have been for my people, my comfort, my wonderful, joyful clutter of books and fabric and music and memories and mechanical pencils that line the edges of my sanity. And I am more sad and scared than I ever have been for the inequality, the ineptitude, the lack of kindness, the hateful language and insensitivity that divides and masks the humanity we share. I laugh at memes and cry when writing morning emails to my now remote team. I cling to my husband when thanking him for lunch, and I play my favorite song and sing along as loud as I can. I listen with my whole soul to someone who is afraid, and I resent the hell out of people who have time to binge watch anything. I am the wind that happens when cold air and hot air mix, the clouds are always swirling and I am at once raging and exhausted.    

We did not know when we chose the articles for our Spring issue that this would be the context, and yet there is a synergy that speaks to us today and transcends for tomorrow. These words show interactions between interior landscapes and external forces and create quiet liminal spaces for insight and meaning. The essays and stories break through the onslaught of information with real narratives and reinforce how we are more together than apart, more the same in each unique experience. Aimee Hickman writes about discovering a hidden layer of identity and “Ancestor Worship meets Ancestry.com” describes the journey that led her to a new home. In “The Rules of the Game,” Christina Taber-Kewene finds strength to embody and inspire change within rather than outside of the church and the often marginalizing beliefs of her family. Kristin Lowe visits Uganda as an outsider only to find more similarities than differences in “Purpled Flowers.” In “Benefit of Doubt,” Sara Stanworth learns to sit with questions and let go of answers as she navigates what it means to embrace truth in a new way. Falencia’s Jean-Francois’ prose poem, “Gingerbread Girl,” brings to life the interplay of internal development and external pressure in a devastating metaphor that will stay with you long after reading. 

These voices quiet the churn of emotional turmoil and the cacophony external stimulus. They invite rather than divide. They are not easy stories, but they are real in a way that resonates with our current circumstances rather than exacerbate our already raw senses. The urgency of this situation will pass, but it will take time for me to settle. It is only by breaking down this disruptive distance between us that we can reconnect with ourselves and each other. What the essays and features in this issue communicate so beautifully is that this coming together has little to do with proximity and everything to do with recognizing shared narrative and honoring individual expression. Reading and viewing the work of these writers and artists take us out of our house and into a community of healing. 

****

Artist statement from Miriam Tribe: My work is figurative and expressionistic, and I circle around a lot of questions about identity and relationships. I draw people. I want to explore why we are the way we are, and capture in a moment that deep context. I use lines like choreography, and color like ritual or war paint — defining the primal inner state, the true intention. I see entanglement of mind and body everywhere between us. My work also reflects my own need for choice, so I’m always thinking about the roles and identities we choose and those that are given to us. Motherhood has taught me how inherent and honest both beauty and pain are to our human experience, and my aim as an artist is to hold space for both.

The Clouds Are Swirling

[image error]Cover art by Miriam Tribe. Read Tribe’s artist statement below and see more of her work here.

The following is the letter from the editor, by Pandora Brewer, for the Spring 2020 issue of Exponent II. To receive a copy of this issue, please subscribe at our store by April 15.

I am in my house. With the exception of two grocery store visits and a daily walk, I have been in my house for 14 days going on unknown. It is March 2020. In the future, we will study this time with the long view of before and after. In the moment, it is waking up and not being sure what day it is, aware of an aching anxiety that hits you like cold air as you throw back the blankets, taking those first steps into a day that will fall in somewhere between your mundane four walls and a catastrophic black hole. 

I am fortunate. I am still working, my husband and I are friends, he loves to cook so we have interesting food, and I am a person who can putter and tinker alone for hours with no concept of boredom. But I also work in an industry that has been shut down and am watching years of hard work ebb away. I have people I love at the front lines of medical support and exposure. My parents are at high risk ages. My children live away and I can’t get to them quickly if they need something. This is a time of contrasts and I find myself drifting in a sea of floating icebergs. I collide into seemingly normal emotions and yet the impact feels so much bigger, so much more than I expected or could see coming. I am suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of response to what would have been a simple shrug. 

It is almost impossible to hide from or minimize the amplification of these reactions because most of us have lost the membrane between our inside and the outside world. How ironic that we are sheltered in place and yet are battered by unending streams of information from every place. We know every opinion, every conundrum, every statistic, every entertainment option, every misstep, every risk, it all flows into our brain like the mind controlling screens in some dystopian nightmare. As a result, I am more grateful than I ever have been for my people, my comfort, my wonderful, joyful clutter of books and fabric and music and memories and mechanical pencils that line the edges of my sanity. And I am more sad and scared than I ever have been for the inequality, the ineptitude, the lack of kindness, the hateful language and insensitivity that divides and masks the humanity we share. I laugh at memes and cry when writing morning emails to my now remote team. I cling to my husband when thanking him for lunch, and I play my favorite song and sing along as loud as I can. I listen with my whole soul to someone who is afraid, and I resent the hell out of people who have time to binge watch anything. I am the wind that happens when cold air and hot air mix, the clouds are always swirling and I am at once raging and exhausted.    

We did not know when we chose the articles for our Spring issue that this would be the context, and yet there is a synergy that speaks to us today and transcends for tomorrow. These words show interactions between interior landscapes and external forces and create quiet liminal spaces for insight and meaning. The essays and stories break through the onslaught of information with real narratives and reinforce how we are more together than apart, more the same in each unique experience. Aimee Hickman writes about discovering a hidden layer of identity and “Ancestor Worship meets Ancestry.com” describes the journey that led her to a new home. In “The Rules of the Game,” Christina Taber-Kewene finds strength to embody and inspire change within rather than outside of the church and the often marginalizing beliefs of her family. Kristin Lowe visits Uganda as an outsider only to find more similarities than differences in “Purpled Flowers.” In “Benefit of Doubt,” Sara Stanworth learns to sit with questions and let go of answers as she navigates what it means to embrace truth in a new way. Falencia’s Jean-Francois’ prose poem, “Gingerbread Girl,” brings to life the interplay of internal development and external pressure in a devastating metaphor that will stay with you long after reading. 

These voices quiet the churn of emotional turmoil and the cacophony external stimulus. They invite rather than divide. They are not easy stories, but they are real in a way that resonates with our current circumstances rather than exacerbate our already raw senses. The urgency of this situation will pass, but it will take time for me to settle. It is only by breaking down this disruptive distance between us that we can reconnect with ourselves and each other. What the essays and features in this issue communicate so beautifully is that this coming together has little to do with proximity and everything to do with recognizing shared narrative and honoring individual expression. Reading and viewing the work of these writers and artists take us out of our house and into a community of healing. 

****

Artist statement from Miriam Tribe: My work is figurative and expressionistic, and I circle around a lot of questions about identity and relationships. I draw people. I want to explore why we are the way we are, and capture in a moment that deep context. I use lines like choreography, and color like ritual or war paint — defining the primal inner state, the true intention. I see entanglement of mind and body everywhere between us. My work also reflects my own need for choice, so I’m always thinking about the roles and identities we choose and those that are given to us. Motherhood has taught me how inherent and honest both beauty and pain are to our human experience, and my aim as an artist is to hold space for both.

Guest Post: An Open Letter to My LGBTQ+ Siblings

[image error]by Brooke

Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee… (Jeremiah 1:5). For I know the thoughts I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil…(Jeremiah 29:11).

I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. (Psalms 139:14). The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him. (Nahum 1:7). The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalms 27:1)

You have incredible value and purpose. And while it may be, at times, that those closest to you do not have the ability to see the “whole you”, Jesus Christ always does. He sees every aspect of you fully and without prejudice.

As children of God, we encompass a myriad of identities and roles in our lives: sibling, child, person-of-faith, friend, artist, athlete, scholar, employee, companion, worker, and lover, just to name a few. All of these “parts” of our self make up our “whole self”. When one role is denied, for any reason, it can create incredible pain.

As humans, we are hardwired to form connections with others. Forming intimate bonds enables us to feel safe, loved, accepted and also allows us to do that for someone in return. This instinct is not simply a “want” or a nicety; rather, it is a need as powerful and necessary as food, water, and shelter.

My intent in sharing this with you is not to persuade you to choose a particular path over another; that is a private matter between you and your loving Heavenly Parents. Alternatively, I want you to feel validated in your struggles and trials. I desire you to know that there are people who recognize that you are on an incredibly tough path and that turning off such a fundamental part of who you are is not as simple as flipping a switch and having faith. In fact, it is akin to being asked to deny yourself water. Others do not understand that truth right now, but I believe strongly that in time they will.

In the meantime, I hope you will regularly consult with your Heavenly Family: Father, Mother, and Brother, as to what your path should be. Please ask Them for what purpose you have, as a member of the LGBTQ+ family, been brought to the LDS family. As you seek to understand why have you been placed in such seemingly contradictory roles, I believe that They will reveal these truths to you and, concurrently, succor, reaffirm, and strengthen you.

One final plea: regardless of what your journey looks like, please always choose life. If there ever comes a time that you must live your life outside of the church in order to do so, feel confident in that choice. The Holy Ghost always strives to be with us, no matter where we are. Access to the Powers of Heaven will always be available to you because that is your birthright. Your Savior will always be by your side and joy can, and will, be found in abundance.

With Much Love and Admiration,

Brooke Thompson Ramthun

Brooke is a Phoenix transplant living life outside of Boston. Her various roles include project manger, wife, mother x 3, Green Bay Packers fan, and shark enthusiast.

The (Male) Privilege of Partaking #CopingWithCOVID19

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The situation: the world is under quarantine to slow the outbreak of COVID-19, groups are not allowed to gather (including church congregations), social distancing measures prevent visitors passing between homes.

The dilemma: male members of the Church who hold the Priesthood are authorized to administer the sacrament in their homes to their families. Ministering brothers are not allowed to visit the homes of single women to offer the emblems of the sacrament.

The privilege: men are allowed to bless and pass the sacrament to themselves, to other men, and to the women and children adjacent to them.

The deprivation: single women are not allowed to bless or partake of the sacrament on their own, and ministering brothers are not allowed to bring it to them. In one letter from a Seventy authority to stake presidents sent this week, concerning single sisters or those without priesthood-holding men in their homes, he writes, “We encourage you to read and ponder carefully the sacrament prayers found in the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine of Covenants, but to do so WITHOUT parking of the sacred emblems until such a time when it is safer for the brethren to either come to your homes or the ban is lifted and we are allowed to meet in our chapels.”  

This modern advice hearkens back to a similar response made by Joseph F. Smith to another single woman who had missed the sacrament in 1904.

This scenario is an example of how the priesthood-as-umbrella analogy falls flat. In this case, it DOES matter who holds the priesthood, and not everyone receives equal benefits of the all-male priesthood like the metaphor claims.  Unlike this Sharing time lesson prompt describes, it is pouring down rain in the world right now, and single sisters are getting soaked.

[image error]

Primary Sharing time lesson plan, October 2017

It’s often explained that a man’s Priesthood is given to him to bless the lives of others, that it’s a vehicle for him to offer service.

We’ve heard, “A man can’t lay his hands on his own head and bless himself.” But he can lay hands on his own bread and bless his sacrament.

Today all over the world, married and single Latter-Day Saint men blessed and ate their own sacrament, even if they had nobody to share it with.

Latter-Day Saint women have been taught by church leaders to learn about the Priesthood power they hold, and to rejoice in their ability to call on the power of God in their homes and callings.  But in our present circumstance, when it comes to the salvific ordinance of repentance and renewal, single women (and women who are married to unordained men) find themselves ineligible and deprived of partaking of the emblems of communion with God and harnessing that power through symbolic rite.  This deprivation will presumably last as long as social-distancing precautions are in place, which may be many more weeks or months.  The effects of this prohibition are amplified for single mothers who have no recourse for providing the sacramental ordinance to their children.

What other global scenarios might occur in which single women as an entire group are deprived from renewing their baptismal covenants and partaking of these emblems? How could the church prevent this from happening in the future?

If the weekly ordinance of partaking of the Sacrament is critical to all members of the Church, why isn’t the sacrament made available to all members equally? Why is the actual partaking of the emblems of the Sacrament prioritized and emphasized for some members (men and their families) but not others?  And why is the deprivation of the sacramental emblems to these women (and their children) considered an acceptable solution on a global, church-wide scale?  If one person needs the emblems of the Sacrament, we all need them.

To the women of the Relief Society who have a Priesthood holding man available to bless the sacrament and pass it to you, how do you feel about exercising a relational privilege that provides you access to these emblems while knowing that your single sisters are going without? The renewal of the covenants of your salvation is contingent upon your relational adjacency to a Priesthood-holding man.  Are the single sisters of the church not worthy of their renewals as well?  How could all the women of the Relief Society unite with common purpose to solve this dilemma for all Latter-Day Saint women?


The solution: Ordain Women.

The (Male) Privilege of Partaking

[image error]

The situation: the world is under quarantine to slow the outbreak of COVID-19, groups are not allowed to gather (including church congregations), social distancing measures prevent visitors passing between homes.

The dilemma: male members of the Church who hold the Priesthood are authorized to administer the sacrament in their homes to their families. Ministering brothers are not allowed to visit the homes of single women to offer the emblems of the sacrament.

The privilege: men are allowed to bless and pass the sacrament to themselves, to other men, and to the women and children adjacent to them.

The deprivation: single women are not allowed to bless or partake of the sacrament on their own, and ministering brothers are not allowed to bring it to them. In one letter from a Seventy authority to stake presidents sent this week, concerning single sisters or those without priesthood-holding men in their homes, he writes, “We encourage you to read and ponder carefully the sacrament prayers found in the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine of Covenants, but to do so WITHOUT parking of the sacred emblems until such a time when it is safer for the brethren to either come to your homes or the ban is lifted and we are allowed to meet in our chapels.”  

This modern advice hearkens back to a similar response made by Joseph F. Smith to another single woman who had missed the sacrament in 1904.

This scenario is an example of how the priesthood-as-umbrella analogy falls flat. In this case, it DOES matter who holds the priesthood, and not everyone receives equal benefits of the all-male priesthood like the metaphor claims.  Unlike this Sharing time lesson prompt describes, it is pouring down rain in the world right now, and single sisters are getting soaked.

[image error]

Primary Sharing time lesson plan, October 2017

It’s often explained that a man’s Priesthood is given to him to bless the lives of others, that it’s a vehicle for him to offer service.

We’ve heard, “A man can’t lay his hands on his own head and bless himself.” But he can lay hands on his own bread and bless his sacrament.

Today all over the world, married and single Latter-Day Saint men blessed and ate their own sacrament, even if they had nobody to share it with.

Latter-Day Saint women have been taught by church leaders to learn about the Priesthood power they hold, and to rejoice in their ability to call on the power of God in their homes and callings.  But in our present circumstance, when it comes to the salvific ordinance of repentance and renewal, single women (and women who are married to unordained men) find themselves ineligible and deprived of partaking of the emblems of communion with God and harnessing that power through symbolic rite.  This deprivation will presumably last as long as social-distancing precautions are in place, which may be many more weeks or months.  The effects of this prohibition are amplified for single mothers who have no recourse for providing the sacramental ordinance to their children.

What other global scenarios might occur in which single women as an entire group are deprived from renewing their baptismal covenants and partaking of these emblems? How could the church prevent this from happening in the future?

If the weekly ordinance of partaking of the Sacrament is critical to all members of the Church, why isn’t the sacrament made available to all members equally? Why is the actual partaking of the emblems of the Sacrament prioritized and emphasized for some members (men and their families) but not others?  And why is the deprivation of the sacramental emblems to these women (and their children) considered an acceptable solution on a global, church-wide scale?  If one person needs the emblems of the Sacrament, we all need them.

To the women of the Relief Society who have a Priesthood holding man available to bless the sacrament and pass it to you, how do you feel about exercising a relational privilege that provides you access to these emblems while knowing that your single sisters are going without? The renewal of the covenants of your salvation is contingent upon your relational adjacency to a Priesthood-holding man.  Are the single sisters of the church not worthy of their renewals as well?  How could all the women of the Relief Society unite with common purpose to solve this dilemma for all Latter-Day Saint women?


The solution: Ordain Women.

Guest Post: Dear Phil Donahue

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By Kristin Lowe

February 4, 1980. The credits began to roll on the Phil Donahue show. Director. Executive Producer. Senior Producer. Superimposed titles and names washed over General Relief Society President, Barbara Smith. She sat next to her sister in arms, Beverly Campbell, poised to answer Donahue’s final question of the hour. Smith maintained the visage of what a New York Times article described as the “Hollywood version of the glamorous grandmother.” Silver bouffant hair. Modish suit. And, “homespun manner.”

Smith had spoken out against the Equal Rights Amendment, and for continued progress in women’s rights, nearly since the day she was called as the 10th General Relief Society President in October 1974. On the nationally televised Donahue show, Smith was more practiced, more articulate in her anti-ERA stance than her Times interview two years prior. The audience applauded her take on women’s role in protecting the family.

But, when Donahue asked his final question, “What has the Mormon Church done for women in general?” Smith’s zeal overcame her, and according to several LDS women who watched the program then, her homespun calm showed signs of unraveling. She nearly shouted as the credits rolled, about Mormon women who could bake their own bread! and can their own food for the winter!

Even as Smith’s exclamations solidified Mormon women in the public conscience—broadly tracing over the lines of popular Mormon women caricature as simple-minded housewives—homemade bread and tidy rows of canned peaches became both promise and threat

I make homemade bread weekly. I’ve canned food. Apple sauce, once. Blackberry jam, once. And a botched batch of tomatoes, once. Smith’s argument made 40 years ago sought to define traditional families—tying women to the home—and protect women from the “too-broad,” “too vague,” “too non-definitive” ERA. But these domestic acts do not define what the Mormon church has done for me as a woman; for what it has done for anyone of us. There is a life, a duty really, we are called to outside the home and away from the hearth

After the Women’s March in 2017, there was a new push to constitutionalize the ERA. The old spirits of 70s feminism and conservative opposition reconjured like dust blown in a swirl off an old book. Born in 1985 after the deadline for the ERA’s ratification had passed, I was new to the story, new to the church’s uncomfortably overwhelming political response. I was drawn to the intoxicating scent of a bone still unpicked; a fight still un-won.

Our history tells of early Mormon mothers, who Smith named “the greatest suffragette leaders of the past.” They were called first to scale mountains, nurse the sick, bury their dead, feed the needy, sew clothes and tie quilts, raise money for church buildings and maintain them after they’d laid brick on mortar on brick. Their call to political involvement was seen as a natural outgrowth of ritualistic domestic acts and smart economy.

They left home to fight for suffrage. Suffrage was granted in 1870, taken away with the Edmunds-Tucker Act passed by Congress in 1887, and reestablished with Utah’s statehood in 1896. Mormon women, with all the underlying complexity of their loyalties to both church and state, still set out to establish national precedent. Those Mormon mothers were thinking of their return home all along. Of those daughters and sons who occupied the holiest of spaces and would one day go searching for their voice, for a say, in the text of the land and their lives.

Mormon women also had their say in the lively decades-long debate over the ERA ratification, and whether or not the 14th amendment already granted sufficient protection, sufficient equality. Within the church those voices fell on both sides. Although one side sat more comfortable and populous than the other, as support for the anti-ERA movement became analogous with obedience to the prophet. For Mormon women, the ERA became a moral issue. A search for a ratification of Truth to hang their hats, and the law of the land, on.

Mormon women were called by church leaders to act in a political arena. And so, they did what they had long practiced. They organized. They called. They gathered to the Salt Palace on a weekend in June 1977 for Utah’s International Women’s Year conference (IWY). The event planners expected 4,000. 14,000 came with disastrous effect. It was crowded and sticky-hot, and despite thoughtful planning, it soon became a political battleground with Mormon women booing and shouting down speakers. Most came to practice obedience more than to practice any real personal political resolve. Many later stated that they came with feelings of distrust and suspicion but couldn’t exactly say for certain what for.

Across the nation, Mormon women debated. Some questioned. Some wondered. They voted and thereby they obeyed. Or disobeyed. Mormon women proved their ability to organize swiftly around national political moments and influenced the outcome of elections and ratification of amendments.

In a New York Times story that followed the IWY, Smith first conceded that right-wing extremists had “somewhat” used Mormon women to further their political agenda, and then added, “But the thrilling thing about the meeting was that our women went home anxious to know more about the concerns of women. I was so thrilled with what happened there that I encouraged our women in other states to attend their conventions.”

Smith’s self-understanding was congratulatory, even while admitting to the larger public understanding that extreme groups have a frightening negative influence that threaten to take political neophytes unaware.

The issue of winning back their right to vote united Mormon women in the late 1800s. Their freedom came in starts and stops. Beginning in the 1970s and continuing today, we struggle with how Mormon women use that power to vote. We wonder at the powerful outside voices that influence those votes. We still see the fractures and feel the fear born in the 70s. Fear over the blank spaces we tried to read between the lines of the Equal Rights Amendment, and the fractures that marked the aftermath of voting against religious lines.

Mormon women’s political history with the suffrage movement and the ERA is instructive as I move forward in the 2020 election year. There is room for Mormon women to see civic and political truth differently, to celebrate the divergence of opinion among us as a healthy political state and use our moral principles to guide us to individual truths at the polls. But history has taught me to check not just ballot boxes, but the authenticity of my vote. I recoil from being “somewhat used” on any point of the political spectrum.

So, Phil Donahue, four decades later the real answer to your question is: we might let the bread rise too long and the fruit sit awhile. The Mormon church has organized a community of women ready to engage collectively in causes larger than ourselves. We gather to protect the interests of those whose needs might be otherwise overlooked. That help most often translates to women caring for other women. Women of every color and ethnicity and socioeconomic clime. We are still the least of these. We still need voices. And knowledge. And votes.

Kristin Lowe holds an MFA from the University of Georgia’s Grady College of Journalism and works as a freelance writer. She is a believer in the unifying power of feminism.

My ‘Counterfeit’ Temple Marriage: Married to an Asexual/Aromantic partner

Growing up in the church, I learned that marriage was a big deal. God had a plan that included marrying in the temple, which was to be for eternity. Without this one could not get into the celestial kingdom. I didn’t need all the years of indoctrination in the Young Women’s program, I liked boys. As long as I can remember I had crushes on boys and wanted to grow up and get married. I did so at my first opportunity.

I had known him for over a year and we had a lot of similar interests and had spent time together on a BYU study abroad. The next step seemed natural. He never proposed, but we had a ‘defining the relationship’ talk that ended in a decision to marry. Within 3 months we found ourselves married. I was barely 20. We were extremely chaste. He didn’t kiss me when we were engaged, or even at the temple wedding. I thought he was super righteous and had excellent self-control. This was precisely what I had been taught was a worthy dating relationship, to prepare for a temple marriage.

We were naïve virgins. So, needless to say, the honeymoon was bad. When we finally had sex, I tore. It was mechanical and painful for me. I occasionally tried to act seductive, but he would ignore me and look away, so I blamed myself. I knew I must not be attractive enough. I did try to do a little reading to find out more, but I felt guilty for my curiosity about sex, even as a married woman. I spent so many nights in tears, while he ignored my silky nightie, rolled over, and went to sleep. For the first few years I tried to make myself into what he wanted. He asked me not to wear makeup or shave my legs. I complied with both of those for a time. I got rid of my clothes he didn’t like. I did all the cleaning, grocery shopping, and cooking while we were both full time students and part time employees. Over the years, children came. I was exhausted and invested in caring for the family. I didn’t often allow myself the luxury of considering my own happiness in the marriage. I spent a lot of time studying how to be a better wife and wasted my time on things like “The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands”, which promised that a man just wanted a pretty and amiable wife to take care of his needs and he would do anything for her. I specifically remember the phrase ‘he will swim through shark infested waters to bring her a glass of lemonade’. That wasn’t what I wanted precisely, but I was needy. The advice was useless. If I put on makeup, dressed up, and flirted with my husband, he continued to laugh nervously under his breath and look away.

The years passed. I was married 17 years when my faith crisis culminated in a decision to leave the church to try to salvage my mental health. I feared it would mean the end of my marriage, but it didn’t end up doing that. It was such a relief at first. But leaving the church also meant my worldview was crumbling and I was finally being honest with myself about my life. I started to speak my mind to my husband instead of trying to ‘never complain’ like a righteous wife is supposed to do. I learned to begin looking at my own shadows and work on my issues. I also allowed myself to release the sexual shame I had been indoctrinated with.

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I spent a lot of time investigating and trying to name the problem with our marriage. It wasn’t just that we didn’t date. He had always treated me as a roommate more than a wife. I had long suspected my husband was a homosexual, but he denied it. I got him to read a book of Carol Lynn Pearson’s “No More Goodbyes” which helped him lose his homophobia, but he still didn’t think he was gay. Two years ago I thought maybe he was asexual, but he didn’t think it was that. It wasn’t until last month that I got him to read about asexuality and he finally came to understand what it meant and admitted that did feel right to him.

He is asexual and aromantic. He just doesn’t have those feelings. Not for me, or for anyone. He has never missed me when I’m gone. He has never pined to be touched. He has never enjoyed kissing. He has never wanted my attention, has never wanted to talk to me and share his feelings, and has never wanted sex or thought about it during his daily life. He thought he wasn’t asexual because he could respond sexually on occasion, but he has never had any romantic feelings of any kind. He is indifferent. He could not receive my affection or give it in return. I had been pouring my love into a void.

So here we are. Almost twenty-one years into a marriage. My bucket has been so empty for so long. I have been depressed and lonely. My marriage feels like a sham. People see us together and assume we are in a normal relationship. But the fact is, although I am in love with him, he loves me the same way he loves his siblings or friends. He resents my emotional and physical desire for him in the same way I resent his cool distance and disinterest.

We were raised in a system that expected nothing less than eternal marriage. He was a dutiful Mormon boy, and didn’t ever have the curiosity about himself to find out that he was different from other boys. He still wants to call himself normal. And I guess he is. Asexuality is a normal expression of human sexuality. It is present in a certain percentage of the population, as is homosexuality, or bisexuality. Why would God make a plan that requires 100% of the people to be in a heteronormative marriage, and then make 10% of his children with different sexual orientations?

Where the only acceptable marriage is one between a man and a woman, mixed orientation marriage becomes necessary. Lately the church has stopped encouraging mixed orientation marriage as a way to ‘cure’ homosexuality, but it still hasn’t approved any other ‘plan’ for people who don’t fit the narrative. Bisexuals are in a privileged position if they are able to contract a marriage with a ‘suitable’ (aka: opposite sex) partner. The policy for gay people now is that they are to remain single, not even to date those they are attracted to. So though they have the same desire to love and be loved as most people have, the only acceptable marriage option is with someone of the opposite sex. This creates mixed orientation marriages. Asexuals may fly under the radar if they recognize they have no desire for a relationship and don’t enter into one, but they will always be considered ‘singles’ looking for a marriage, because marriage is ‘required’ to get into heaven. It’s not just an option for people who would enjoy married life, but is considered necessary for salvation. But how can you hope to be happy together for eternity if you are miserable in this life? In a mixed orientation marriage, you are sacrificing your happiness to try and fit yourselves into a prescribed mold. I feel like I’ve spend more than 2 decades squeezed into the wrong mold. I ache to be loved as I love. And not just by anyone. I want it to be the father of my children. But he is not capable of that. And I can’t fix it. No matter how cute I make myself, no matter how well I cook, no matter how clean I keep the house, no matter how interesting the conversation, how charming the flirting, there is nothing I can do to make my husband love me, or for us to connect romantically.

At this point we are talking about divorce. I have been so unhappy for so long, but I haven’t prepared myself to take care of myself. I have been 100% invested in fixing my marriage. I have been caring for our 8 children. My youngest just turned 4. I haven’t worked outside the home for over 16 years. My husband doesn’t make a lot of money. Divorce is expensive. My health insurance comes through my husband’s employer. Housing in our area has doubled in price in the last 5 years. I fear I am economically crippled for the rest of my life from my years spent at home. I have no idea how to find the resources I need to change my life. Particularly now with 7 kids schooling at home during this pandemic.

How do you make a choice about which dream to grieve? I always wanted a loving marriage and nuclear family. I was taught to want these things, but I embraced those dreams fully. Do I divorce and give up the dream of the nuclear family in order to look for the loving partner? Do I stay with my husband in our mixed orientation marriage and give up the dream of ever being in a reciprocal loving relationship? I have not been happy throughout our marriage. It has never felt right. But there is no guarantee that I will find another straight man to love and be in a relationship with. The specter of complete loneliness and single parenthood scares me to death. The possibility of never being with someone who wants to be with me breaks my heart. How do I determine what is right for my children in all this? Where can I find hope?

I know the church did not make me marry this man. But it did teach him that he must marry. And he had to marry someone. Someone had to be sacrificed. And he didn’t know enough about himself to give me a head’s up and make an informed decision. I was young. I had never been in another serious relationship. I was taught to eschew a physical relationship before marriage, so I had no idea it wouldn’t feel right. I had nothing to compare it to. I was taught that marriage was the pinnacle of my religious duty. That the fruits of a righteous life were a happy fulfilling marriage and family life. How was I to know any better? And now that I do, how can I fix my life?

Church leaders have from time to time talked about ‘counterfeit marriage’. The first reference I found was in 1981 when Boyd K. Packer talked about living together as a ‘counterfeit marriage’. In 2006, David A. Bednar said “the devil has attempted to combine and legally validate confusion about gender and marriage. As we look beyond mortality and into eternity, it is easy to discern that the counterfeit alternatives the adversary advocates can never lead to the completeness that is made possible through the sealing together of a man and a woman, to the happiness of righteous marriage, to the joy of posterity, or to the blessing of eternal progression.” He promises that “The ultimate blessings of love and happiness are obtained through the covenant relationship of eternal marriage.” I find it so interesting that the church has coined this term ‘counterfeit marriage’. This description perfectly fits what it feels like to be in a mixed-orientation marriage.

I was sealed in the temple to a man. I was worthy and honored my covenants. I didn’t get the blessings of love and happiness through my covenant relationship. I feel like that temple sealing WAS a counterfeit marriage. We were coming from the paradigm we had been taught, that any righteous man and woman could make a marriage work. My husband was doing what he was taught, and marrying worthily in the temple. He never had the option of not marrying. But in being obedient, created a marriage where love and happiness became impossible for me. My self-esteem was eroded painfully over time. Every time I tried to talk to my husband about our marriage problems, he said he was fine and happy. It was gaslighting, even if he didn’t know it. I had been raised in a culture where I had been taught NOT to trust my intuition, and I felt there was something wrong with ME that I just couldn’t be happy and satisfied. The growing depression that stemmed to a great deal from my situation was MY fault. I started as a girl afraid and ashamed of my sexuality. When I matured and tried to embrace it, my husband was repulsed and rejected me. I hated myself. I became a shell, disgusted by my touch-starved and seemingly unlovable body. I didn’t feel any affection and eventually complained loudly. Why was I so undeserving of love from this good man who I so adored? Why would God command me to marry and never bless me with any of that marital happiness that was supposedly waiting for the righteous? I also viewed my husband as a broken straight person, instead of the perfect asexual man he is. I didn’t see that the occasional simulated acts in the dark were taking a toll on him, just as they were taking a toll on me. It was not just unpleasant, but corrosive and toxic. We were both taught to value long-suffering.

In 2017, Larry R. Lawrence talked about Satan’s counterfeits as well. He calls lust a counterfeit for love. I have to disagree. As a married woman, I have to say lust is a part of love. I wish my husband would lust for me. I want to be desired physically. I ache to be touched, and not just compulsorily or reciprocally, but spontaneously and tenderly out of a fullness of feeling. That is part of a mature and loving marriage. Further, he says “Marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God, but same-sex marriage is only a counterfeit. It brings neither posterity nor exaltation. Although his imitations deceive many people, they are not the real thing. They cannot bring lasting happiness.” Bringing posterity has nothing to do with happiness and exaltation. Unmarried teenagers regularly ‘bring posterity’. My asexual husband and I have ‘brought posterity’. On the other hand, plenty of righteous couples end up being infertile. Why would conceiving children have anything to do with it? I am so tired of the church telling people who to love and promising that only one formula for marriage can bring happiness. I am sure some people will continue to say I have been unhappy because I did something wrong. But I didn’t. I was playing by all the church’s rules. Did Jesus ever say we had to get married and have children to get into heaven? I think he taught kindness. I think he said love one another. Perhaps he even taught us to question religious authorities. Listen carefully to the sermon on the mount, I don’t think he said “Only marry someone of the opposite sex and make sure you are both fertile”. LDS teachings on marriage and family are a false idol that needs to be torn down. Stop coercing unsuspecting people into mixed-orientation ‘counterfeit’ marriages. They lead to despair and heartbreak, sucking away life instead of giving it.