Exponent II's Blog, page 178

Emergencies and a Male-Only Priesthood

[image error]I’m noticing a lot of people praising the implementation of home centered church right before Sunday meetings were temporarily shut down, which is fine – but I have something to add. Wouldn’t another great step be to ensure that every household has an adult in it who can bless the sacrament for their family or themselves during a lockdown?

I’d love a second part to this revealed change – that we could have home centered church AND ordain women to the priesthood. Because without the second half, a whole bunch of pieces are left hanging. 

Below is a section of an email message that came from my very nice bishop last night:

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I can think of a lot of homes of active latter-day saints without a priesthood holder there to do this. Like myself, when I was a college student with all female roommates. Or myself again, whenever my military husband would deploy to the Middle East for a year. I also have a divorced neighbor, and an elderly widow in my old ward boundaries. I have another friend who is very active in the church, but her husband no longer believes or attends. Who is going to bless the sacrament for them? Are the men in their ward or branch going to travel all day on Sundays going to these homes? That might be possible in Utah, but in other parts of the world with much wider geographical areas in church boundaries, that would be a logistical impossibility.

I understand that this presents a beautiful opportunity for service. Priesthood holding men and boys get an increased opportunity to help others, which is great… but what about all the women like me, who have nothing similar to offer? If we’re trying to limit social contact as much as possible for that elderly widow I mentioned, we’ll want to limit the number of people coming in contact with her. Nursing homes are putting extremely strict limits on the number and type of visits their residents can have, and those living alone should probably be doing the same.

If there’s only one of us who can visit an older woman, who gets to go – me or my husband? Let’s say I’ve sat by her in Relief Society with her for 10 years, she taught me how to knit, and I adore her perfect old lady-ness and soft wrinkled cheeks (I’m imagining a real lady from my ward that I used to know). I’d be delighted to go and see her, but…we want to send one person from my family to check in on her, not two. My husband barely knows her. Who do we send?  Well, my husband would go, not me. He is the one who could give her the sacrament and leave her with a blessing.

This isn’t just a hypothetical situation. Years ago my friend’s 10 month old daughter was in the hospital for a complication following heart surgery. The original surgery went well, but at her two week check up they noticed she wasn’t healing correctly and checked her into the hospital without warning. My husband and next door neighbor were the home teachers for this family, and my friend’s husband (an airline pilot) was currently flying a plane away from Utah and wouldn’t be able to return immediately. She asked if her home teachers could come and give her daughter a blessing and they agreed. Unfortunately with the short notice, these men were both at work and couldn’t go until late into the evening. My husband arrived home close to 9:00 pm, picked up his home teaching companion, and headed to the hospital with him.

When they finally arrived, my friend was upset and yelling at nurses. She told her home teachers rather coldly “never mind”, and to just leave. They were confused and felt a little put out. After all, they had just taken a long drive to the hospital late at night after a long day at work, only to be told to go away when they finally arrived. When he got back home close to midnight, my husband told me she hadn’t even bothered to thank them for coming.

The next morning we received the shocking news that her baby had passed away. My husband and his companion had arrived just as things were starting to go downhill, hence the chaos and yelling and lack of attention or concern for a priesthood blessing from them. It was a horribly tragic day and what had happened at the hospital the night before suddenly made perfect sense.

I’ve thought about these events many times over the years. I don’t really think that the baby would have miraculously lived if she’d got a priesthood blessing an hour earlier. What happened was going to happen either way. However, a blessing would have comforted the mother immensely, and having her friends there would have helped as well. Her husband couldn’t get back yet, her family lived far away, and she was alone all day at the hospital with her daughter. The home teaching companion’s wife and I are both friends with this woman, but all day long we didn’t go up to the hospital. We stayed home with our kids, and we weren’t the ones requested anyway – our husbands were the ones who could administer a blessing. 

But what if we’d had priesthood power and authority, instead of just them? We could’ve come at any time during that afternoon or evening to give a blessing. Even if we’d waited until our husbands were home from work and just gone in their place at the same time, we would’ve been there for our friend when her daughter passed away – female friends, and mothers ourselves. I understand why she just told the men to leave. It was quickly turning into a medical emergency and she hardly even knew them.

Because women don’t have the priesthood, we don’t have the same ability to help others in our church community that our male counterparts have. Sitting on the sidelines once again during the coronavirus outbreak, I see that our usefulness in certain things (such as ordinances) is limited to twiddling our thumbs and waiting for a man to come and do it for us. How is this good emergency preparation in a church so focused on readiness for the end of times?

The coronavirus outbreak is a great opportunity to fully implement home centered church, but it’s also a great opportunity to ponder how we can be even more prepared in the future. I believe that a church where women share the responsibility and opportunity to administer to the needs of their congregation is a church that can survive anything – even the coronavirus.

Is there room for a minority view?

[image error]When I was a child I asked, “Why did Jesus need to die for us?” And “Why couldn’t God just forgive us?” I saw Jesus portrayed as beaten, ridiculed, betrayed and crucified on a cross. I also saw him as innocent, kind, lovely, tender, and compassionate. The cruelty and injustice didn’t make sense to my 12-year-old self. 

A few decades later, as an adult convert, I read Alma chapter 42 and finally ‘got it’.  God demanded justice and Jesus was the only one who could satisfy justice and in so doing extend mercy to the rest of us.   I gladly accepted this explanation and regularly thanked Jesus for doing this on my behalf. 

Fast forward three more decades and I don’t know anymore.  The concept of a God that demands blood and death in order to accept its own creation troubles me.  I’ve been reading about Atonement Theories and found an evolution of thought bringing us to our doctrine. 

The Ransom Theory  posited that a debt was paid to Satan or paid to God who paid it to Satan.  Later came the Satisfaction theory, which led to the Penal Substitution theory. This is commonly known to us via BKP’s Mediator talk from April 1977. 

To my surprise I discovered a Nonviolent Atonement theory originating with St. Francis of Assisi (13th Century). In this theory Jesus’ purpose is not to change God’s mind about humankind (via a ransom or substitute), but to change humankind’s mind about God.  Jesus death is not to satisfy any debt. His life had a transformational purpose rather than a transactional purpose. 

Jesus was the original plan, not the “if you sin, I will send a Savior plan.”  

In the 13th Century religious leaders met to discuss/debate theology and doctrine. A dominant Atonement Theory was adopted yet a minority view was allowed.  The Nonviolent Atonement was the minority view held by the Franciscans. They were not excommunicated for holding a different view. They continued to teach this in their seminaries and religious practice, within the larger institution of Catholicism. The Franciscans had many unique ideas including the understanding that the Incarnation began with the Big Bang and continues through our day.  Jesus of Nazareth is part of the Incarnation, but not the entire part. We are all part of it, along with Brother Sun and Sister Moon. St. Francis saw God in all things and excluded no one and nothing from this view. It is fascinating to me. D&C 88 comes to mind.

 There is an expression, “We create God in our own image.”  Is this what happened as these theories developed and gained doctrinal legitimacy?  Does the evolution of the theories reflect an evolution of our humanity?   

Until recently, I had totally accepted the BKP version of the atonement without question.  But now I find myself back at the same question my 12-year-old self asked. Why did Jesus have to die?  Why couldn’t God just forgive us?  I don’t know which theory is correct, but I no longer feel the need to know absolutely.  I’m okay pondering it all. 

I wonder if there is room for an Alternative or Minority View opinion within our church without being considered a heretic? I am reminded of Paul and Peter disagreeing about doctrinal issues in the first century?  Where would we be if Paul was excommunicated for heresy because he disagreed with the Apostles?

In reality, many of us hold minority views about any number of topics/issues within our faith community and world in general.  Not being able to honestly discuss doctrine has led to the development of other avenues outside the eyes and ears of the thought police. 

My purpose in writing this post is not to debate the atonement theories.  By stating the obvious — that we have different ideas, thoughts, and experiences — my hope is that we can develop a healthy spiritual venue to discuss doctrine, even if we disagree with the dominant theory.  Can we have a diversity of thought within our community? Maybe we are too young as an institution. We haven’t weathered our growing pains to come out more open and accepting on the other side of maturation.

Come Come Ye Queer Saints: Pride ,Prejudice ,Persecution.

As a Queer,Disabled, Person of Color, I have suffered much in this life at the hands of those claiming to  act in God’s name. The message is loud and clear : You are not worthy and you are not wanted here. I am mentally exhausted by the narrative given and the harshness of its supporters.  In other words, get straight,get white ,don’t fight and then you’ll be alright. With recent events surrounding BYU and the CES system, I stand in solidarity with my rainbow family.

Don’t get me wrong this message is not new. The issue of Pride,Prejudice and Persecution is an on-going ,never ending battle for freedom in a land where pain,suicide and broken families reside.  My rainbow family is being slaughtered emotionally and physically each and every day. We are tired of begging to cut the shackles that the church continues to demand we carry to demonstrate worthiness .We are disgusted by the fact that so many just stand idly by and silently help the platform be pulled from under us. We are sick and tired of  watching others bask in the privilege of a cis gender ,hedronormative ,white male centric land with blinders on.

This is not an issue of policy or procedure,guideline or honor code,this is an issue of humanity. It doesn’t matter how many changes occur or how the manuals are edited unless church leadership begins to change perspective.  Church Leadership needs to claim responsibility for the blood on their hands and the hate in their heart towards the LGBTQ+ community. Until then no amount of changes that come from church headquarters will provoke any difference in attitude. It will simply be lip service from people who are cowering down to societal pressures rather than following the Saviors command to love one another unconditionally.

My rainbow family and I are not trying to flaunt our homosexuality,gender indenity and expressions that come with it. We are simply showing pride in who we are and who God made us to be. We want to give hope to those who are silently suffering so that they will have the strength to live another day.  We are trying to save lives and for some of us we are looking to have a spiritual life. We fight to be visible in this community while most world religions have deemed the LGBTQ+ community to be unworthy, satanic and with having little chance at eternity. 

 We will not be erased. We will not be cast aside. We are not your measure of humanity. We are human beings just like you who believe in family ,community service and kindness to all. It is the callous thinking of society and church leaders  that leads many to believe that somehow our lives are devoid of this and that is not of merit for our rainbow community. In actuality,we want it more because we have to work harder to achieve it. 

 We are grateful for allies who do not stand idly by. We are grateful  for allies who not only protest with us in public media forums,but speak out in Sunday School and other spaces where our voices are not heard. We are grateful for allies who provide safe spaces and resources that not only keep us alive but give us hope.  We need allies who not will only stand with us but will carry us when we are too tired to walk any longer. We need allies who will not speak for us but use their privilege to allow our voices to be heard louder. 

Yesterday,  I was stuck on a train as I watched my rainbow family march . As I tried to exit the train, a person called me the “N” word several times and I watched as people stood by and said nothing. It was not the words I was called but the echo of silence that pierced my soul.

It is this silence that allows hatred to grow and become acceptable in society.  In contrast, many are being silent about the very issues that are tearing down humanity and building walls instead of more seats at the table.I am imploring church leadership, it’s members and the world at large to stand -up and recognize the suffering they have  caused and work actively to do something about it.

We are tired of being second-class citizens. We are tired of being cast out of our families . We are tired of laws that allow for housing and employment discrimination. We are tired of not being able to even use the restroom without fear of retaliation.We are tired of policy and procedures that spread hate in the name of serving a just and loving God. We are tired of burying our friends who have died by suicide.  We are tired of wiping aside our tears where joy should abound. We are tired but we will continue our fight so long as injustice and prosecution exists. Will you take a step out of your privilege and into the shadow of the suffering? Let us all press on……… until victory is won.

Let Me See if I’ve Got This Straight

 

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Image created by Grace Pool

 

For decades, the Church told people of African descent that they may be baptized, pay tithes and offerings, marry, have children and raise them in the faith, and otherwise participate in the sacrament rituals and church traditions, but that God forbade their ordination to the Priesthood and their saving ordinances of endowment or sealing in the temple.

In recent years, the Church has reiterated that celibate queer members may be baptized, pay tithes and offerings, attend the temple, be ordained, serve missions and in callings, but that God forbade their dating, romance, marriage, temple sealing ordinances, or enjoying the blessings of family life, unless they are in straight-passing relationships.

In both scenarios, the Church has strongly enforced that these groups of people are/were ineligible for the highest temple ordinances that lead to exaltation and salvation in the Celestial Kingdom based upon the circumstances of their births. These individuals are/were deemed unworthy from birth, and it’s been accepted as immutable fact by members both then and now. No action or inaction, no manner of righteous living can undo the predetermined judgment these unfortunate souls were born under, according to policies of the day.

“Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents.”

Lord have mercy on us all, our Church is compounding oppressions on its queer members in the name of God. There is no worse way that an entire religion takes the name of its God in vain than to blame the systemic, institutional oppressions it carries out against its members on its own deity. It’s a blasphemy to make God such a respecter of persons. Even worse, these same vanities unilaterally declare with absolutes as to who is deserving and eligible for Heaven based on the body they were born in.

Mormonism, you should be ashamed of yourself. These are not the works of God made manifest.

A Talk on Apology

This was a talk I gave in my ward in November 2013. I hope you all enjoy it.

[image error]Healing Mary, by Wayne S. Grazio. Used in accordance with (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0), no changes made.

Earlier this month, President Uchtdorf gave a talk that the Church is featuring on their website for Thanksgiving. It’s titled, “Reconciliation and Thanksgiving.” He speaks about service, reconciliation, and gratitude. I’ll speak on reconciliation, or specifically, apologies.

I remember having many lessons on repentance in Primary, Sunday School, and Young Women’s when I was growing up and there was something about 5 R’s for the steps of repentance, but just between you all and me, having 5 of the same letter as a pneumonic device isn’t that great of an idea. I remember the word “repent” is one of the 5, but I can’t remember the others (unless they are all repent repent repent repent repent) and I’m not sure what “apologize” would fall under.

When you go to find out what Jesus said on apologizing, you get surprisingly little. There’s lots on forgiveness and turning the other cheek and loving your enemies, but not much on saying that you’re sorry, just two lines in the Sermon on the Mount, “Therefore if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; Leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.” (Matt 5:23)

I wonder if the lack of discussion of apology is because saying that you’re sorry is actually harder than forgiving. Saying that you’re sorry takes a level of humility and admittance of guilt that I wonder if the gospel writers themselves didn’t really want to touch on it. There also weren’t a lot of conference talks on it either, but I’m going to go ahead and do this talk anyway. This is a difficult topic and let me demonstrate why.

First imagine yourself with someone else: no one in particular, just a generic person. Close your eyes and imagine yourself telling them, “I forgive you.” Doesn’t that feel nice? It feels so nice and almost freeing to even forgive imaginary people in your head! Now imagine yourself with your generic person and tell them, “I’m sorry. I messed up.” That’s… harder, even with a generic person. It feels heavy. In the two situations: forgiveness versus apology, in which one do you feel “powerful”? It’s the forgiveness one. Which one felt maybe weak, vulnerable? It was the “sorry” situation. It’s hard to feel like that. We all like to think of ourselves as “the good person.” It’s hard to be the “bad guy” and to admit it.

But we’re all going to be bad guys. It’s inevitable. We’re all going to mess up and offend someone. And it’s natural to want to brush it off and blame the other person and think “Well, the scriptures say charity is not easily offended and look at them being offended about something. They are the ones without charity. They are the ones in the wrong here.” But that’s the natural woman or man speaking. We can’t go around blaming others for being offended while we run around in our lives like bulls in a china shop hurting everyone.

So in this talk I’m not going to address the instances when someone is offended over what we think are little things because I don’t think that happens as much as we want to assume. This is going to be about when we are wrong. But before I continue, I want to put in a word about guilt and shame. I think they are both natural things to feel, though different in productivity. I define guilt as recognizing, “I did something wrong or bad” and shame as “I am a wrong or bad person.” The first statement is useful for learning to navigate life and relationships. The second is false and useless.

I want to go back to that power demonstration because I want to turn it on its head. Think about a time when a person or an organization or corporation messed up really badly in a very public way. Maybe they released a really offensive commercial that laughed up harmful stereotypes or used words that were racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, or otherwise just wrong. What happened? Let me tell you. People saw it or read about it and they sent in complaints. Angry emails and phone calls. People were un-”liking” the person or business on Facebook and Twitter went up in flames over it! And what was the response? There are a few kinds of responses. If it was a single person, maybe they deleted the offensive tweet and wanted to just pretend they never said anything. They erased it and acted like it never happened. Or maybe they waved it off and said, “It was just a joke. You are all just too sensitive. It wasn’t meant like that.” And doesn’t that just rankle your feathers? Or they (sometimes) stop and say, “Wow. We really messed up and see that wasn’t ok. We’re going to change that right away and make sure it doesn’t happen again” and maybe they even add, “How can we make it up to you?” Which reaction is going to make you admire that person or company? Which one is going to make you follow their actions more closely and give them your business, alliance, support? It’s the apology one. While apology can feel disempowering to the one giving the apology, it has amazing power to forge stronger relationships. 

So how do we do apologize?  I don’t think there is enough instruction in this- as kids we get, “Go tell your brother you’re sorry,” and they get a half-apology that is given with a glare and mumbling. We can all recognize an insincere apology. Maybe you had parents or teachers or friends that modeled good apologies. That’s wonderful! But some people don’t get that modeled for them. I think parents or other authority figures assume that apologizing makes them appear weak and that their children or other people below them will suddenly think, “They just said they were wrong in that! What else are they wrong in? Everything? Let’s overthrow their authority now!” There’s a fear of “if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile.” But how does it really go down?

The one time I remember my father apologizing to me was when I was 7. I was going into second grade and was upset that I would not have Mrs. Humphries, my first grade teacher again. I cried about it a lot. And to my dad, he saw a 7 year old throwing a ridiculous fit and that I should get over it. It’s not like crying was going to magically make me a first grader again. My dad yelled at me and sent me to my room for an early bedtime. The next morning when I came down to breakfast, my dad had a change of heart. He told me he was sorry and was making me Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes for breakfast to show it. No, I didn’t have Mrs. Humphries again and yes, I was upset over a little thing. Perhaps in his mind I was “choosing to be offended”, but I still remember that apology. It was really important to me that he cared about my feelings.

What do apologies need? First, they need humility. They need the offender to stop and consider the position of someone completely different. They need truth. As the “bad guy” really messing up, you need to trust the other party when they say, “Hey, that hurt me. That was not ok.” You have to trust that they know their life experiences better than you do. And that seems obvious, but so often we think we know more about someone’s circumstances than they do. My dad thought he knew “better” and that I’d just get over it and I shouldn’t be complaining and crying about something so little. I imagine his apology came about from thinking about what it might feel like to be a first grader moving up to a new grade and not knowing what the teacher would be like and how scary that is. He had to trust that my tears were coming from a real place and not there to manipulate or annoy him.

As the apologizer, your humility needs to let go of fear. It’s scary to apologize and hard to admit that you messed up. Especially when the ways you messed up get labels like “racist” or “sexist” or “homophobic” or “ableist”. Those are strong labels. And no, I don’t like to think I’m racist or sexist or ableist, etc. But do I sometimes say things that are? Yeah, I do. And that’s not ok. But apologizing means admitting to some really bad, embarrassing wrongs, and knowing that you can say, “Yeah, I really messed up there,” and keep trying harder.

Second, apologies need to go to the person. Not to God. This was a bad strategy I’ve employed in the past. I’d skip the apology to the person offended and just go straight to praying for forgiveness from God. It doesn’t really work like that. You can ask God for forgiveness, but that doesn’t fix the lived situation you are in. It might make you feel better like you checked that one off the list, but you know God’s going to keep loving you and accepting you. It’s hard to go to a person who might not be so forgiving. But I’d say that if you can, do it. I’m going to read a story from the 1875 Women’s Exponent, which was the Relief Society publication at the time. It doesn’t list an author here, but the editor at the time was Emmeline B. Wells, so I’ll attribute it to her.

“Never be ashamed to apologize when you have done wrong in domestic affairs,” says an eminent divine. “Let that be a law of your household. The best thing I ever heard of my grandfather, whom I never saw was this: that once having unrighteously rebuked one of his children, he himself– having lost his patience, and perhaps been misinformed of the child’s doings— found out his mistake, and in the evening of the same day gathered all his family together and said, “Now I have one explanation to make and one thing to say. Thomas, this morning I rebuked you in the presence of the whole family, and now I ask your forgiveness in their presence.” It must have taken some courage to do that. It was right, was it not? Never be ashamed to apologize for inaccuracy.”

In this story the grandfather made sure that those who were present to the wrongdoing were there for the apology so that they also knew that he was in the wrong and didn’t continue thinking that the boy Thomas was.

Thirdly, apologies also need to happen at the right time. I think it can sometimes feel like you messed up so long ago that going back and apologizing is too hard or not important 5, 10, 20 years later. But it can be appreciated. When I was 21, I got an email from a classmate who apparently had made fun of me in junior high. I had forgotten that he had said anything mean, though I do remember his friends being mean to me. I wrote him back and told him things were good between us.. Can an apology happen too soon? Yes, I think so. I’ve done that with an old boyfriend where I apologized without letting him have some time to himself.

Apologies also need to be specific. Focus on what you did. “I’m sorry that you felt like I…” or “I’m sorry you think…” or even worse, “I’m sorry for you…” are not apologies. That goes back to trusting someone when they say they are hurt. “I’m sorry I said something bad.” “I’m sorry I did this specific thing.” The phrase, “I’m sorry you felt…” is invalidating and can feel like you are making fun of the other person’s feelings. Other phases that invalidate are “You were overreacting. It was a joke.” A good addition would be to straight up say, “I was wrong” and, “How would you like me to fix this?”

Apologies also need to be given with no expectations of receiving forgiveness. Some years ago I made some comments that offended one of my sister-in-laws. She was very upset about it and her husband told my husband about it. I immediately dug in my heels. “It wasn’t meant to be taken that way!” I thought. I even asked other people who were there when I said it, if they thought I had gone too far. They all agreed with me that my remarks did not warrant her offense. But there was bad air between us and I knew I should apologize. Before we moved away, I went to their house and asked to talk with them. Sitting in their living room, I apologized for my words and then waited. I was thinking that my apology would be welcome and I’d hear something like, “Thanks, it’s ok, really.” I wanted to be assured that I was a “good” person. But instead heard a sarcastic, “Well, it’s about time,” which just reinforced that I was late in this apology and not that great person of a person in this matter at all. I thanked them for their time and went home. There will be times when you apologize and it will not feel like a weight has been lifted.

But what if the offended person is dead? Or what if all of your “bull in a China shop” actions made a person feel like they needed to remove you from their life? That’s happened to me, with people in my family. Maybe time will heal the wounds and I’ll get a chance later, or maybe that’s when we really need to invoke the atonement and trust God. 

I did find one other scripture about apology and it is James 5:16, “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.”  I hope that this year will be a joyous time with your friends and families and that you don’t mess up too much, but if you do, it’s ok. We can heal wounds and rebuild bridges and we can apologize.

My Thank-You Letter to Elizabeth Warren*

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Photo by Violadiva. Pin by https://www.cityofindustryshop.com

Dear Senator Warren,

You concluded your campaign for President today, and my heart swells with equal parts grief and gratitude. Grief for our loss of not having you as our Commander-in-Chief this year. Gratitude for all you’ve given us, our children, and our society.

We never needed a stand alone or self-proclaimed super hero for a President, the one mighty to save us and the only one strong enough to do it. We needed a team of heroes, each with different talents and backgrounds. You showed us what collaborative team leadership looks like, and never portrayed yourself as a savior, but as one who could bring talent together to solve problems.

Thank you for showing us what intersectional feminism looks like coming from the social location of a privileged, educated white woman. Thank you for leading by seeking diverse voices and incorporating them into your leadership teams in inclusive ways. Thank you for reaching out to people, for asking how you could best advocate for them, and then for doing all you could to honor the requests you received. The fact that so many minority leaders endorsed your candidacy must have meant you were good at listening, caring, and implementing. That’s a powerful example of political empathy.

Thank you for showing all the girls of today what capable, smart, organized, women can do, and what we can aspire to do even when the institutions discourage us.  Thank you for showing us what fighting against a misogynistic system can look like, ways that we can be successful, and pitfalls we may not know are there. Thank you for showing us that despite our best ideas and best efforts, we aren’t guaranteed success but that it’s still worth it to try.

You showed us the potential of what compassionate leadership looks like when it’s disentangled from male ego and toxic masculinity.

Thank you for valuing education and for the ways you suggested we strengthen our education systems for all students from elementary to college. Thank you for creating brilliant plans, and then having the grit and determination to see them carried out.

I’m so grateful for your good example of strong female leadership to my daughter, but it’s deeper and more personal than that, really.  I want to thank you most of all for being a strong female leader for me. For showing me that women are smart patriots who care about our country, and if given the chance, will do an amazing job. Thank you for inspiring me to not lose hope in a system that seems stacked against women, but to continue to work toward equality and thriving for all.

Thank you for showing me the worth of heart in leadership.

You faced extra scrutiny on the political sphere compared to your male counterparts, but you weren’t uniquely qualified for the work you did because you identify as female. You worked twice as hard to overcome stigma and prejudice than others have had to do, but your strengths are not because of your gender. Your strengths are a credit to your humanity and diligence.

I wish my fellow citizens had been wise enough to see how badly we needed you. I wish we deserved you. You would have used your gift of healing on our country, and we sorely need it right now. Thank you for the healing you have already offered.

I have more hope than ever before that strong women will be spurred on by your example and that we will have wealths of diverse qualified candidates to run in all races in the future. I’ve worn my “Nevertheless, She Persisted” pin as a way to honor women who stick to their convictions. I will wear it still.

But mostly I hope you run again, because it meant so much to me to vote for you. All my heart’s hopes and dreams bled out with the ink into the bubble next to your name. You’ve inspired me to be a better advocate and activist. Thank you for being on the ballot.

With Admiration,

Violadiva

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*The views in this post reflect solely the opinions of the author, and do not claim to represent the view of the broader Exponent II organization, bloggers, or community.  

Guest Post: And This is Life Eternal

[image error]by N. Christensen

I’ve got chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

When I’m overwhelmed, I bake. It’s a coping mechanism that provides an illusion of control. Things happen, and I’m submerged in an emotional deluge over which I have no command, but when I make something with my hands I can immediately see the evidence of my influence – not great, but tangible.

And then I get to eat cookies. I don’t know if it can be called a healthy coping mechanism, exactly, when that’s the end result, but I could do worse.

My earliest memories of baking are with my grandmother when I was young. To be honest, my grandma wasn’t an incredible cook – she was a devotee of that bland meat-and-potatoes-and-cans style of cooking favored by middle-America – but she had a few specialties. Her dinner rolls were buttery and soft; her chocolate cake rich and flavored generously with an abundance of cocoa. She used to help us form little aluminum foil pans and make miniatures of whatever she was baking. Those memories taste like heaven.

My grandma died last night. 

It’s the first death in my family since my faith transition. I no longer believe in an afterlife. I’m feeling a sense of almost-loss there, like a distorted echo of the more clamorous grief I’m trying to distract myself from. I don’t know if loss is even the right word. I just know that where there was once certainty in a reunion with my loved ones, there is now finality. I don’t want that certainty back, but it made things easier.

Or maybe it didn’t. I don’t think I ever felt that I had the right to grieve before. To grieve was to display a lack of faith. A lack of gratitude. The expectation was that we shouldn’t grieve those that passed away but rejoice in the sure knowledge that we would see them again. I remember feeling guilt when I didn’t feel that way. I also remember feeling a sort of smug pity as I watched my nonmember friends mourn their losses and pondered how sad it was that they didn’t have the knowledge that I had.

I don’t miss those feelings.

My family will gather this evening for a memorial service. I won’t be there. I wish I was. I can’t help feeling, though, that even if I were there I’d be feeling the distance just as much as I will tonight over a thousand miles away. Most of my family is still active in the church. They are united in common belief and in the comfort those beliefs give them. Their faith shapes their interaction with each other and with the events that unite them tonight. I am no longer a part of that. 

I’m unsure whether I’ll ever see most of them again.

There’s nothing quite like death to make you contemplate mortality. I think the renewed sense of urgency is universal among believers and nonbelievers alike. We all feel compelled to reevaluate our priorities, to reinforce our relationships with loved ones, to think about how we will be remembered.

Perhaps it’s our unease about our own flaws that makes us want to avoid thinking about the flaws of those who have died. We want to hope that those that survive us will forget our own. But I don’t think it does us any good to pedestalize our dead loved ones. The dead are not here to hear what we say; the living are. The dead are beyond the lessons their lives provide; the living are not. I’m sifting through my grandma’s life and picking out the lessons. Not all of them are positive. Should I feel bad about that? I don’t know.

She loved her family deeply.

She was incredibly generous. I’ve never known someone so willing to give so freely. 

She seemed to view relationships as transactional and felt that she had to buy her family’s love. Sometimes she was right. 

She picked favorites when we were younger. It made sense, given that she essentially raised certain of my cousins, but as children we still noticed.

Her aversion to conflict made her deeply passive aggressive and often resulted in glossing over problems, rather than confronting them. 

She sometimes prioritized the wrong relationships. She was wasn’t proactive in her care of my grandfather when his health declined. She had an unhealthily codependent relationship with one of my aunts.

She instilled a love of lifelong learning in her family.

She had a tendency to accept conspiracy theories, never managing to develop a consistent standard of rigor for her sources. Sometimes they were harmless, like her belief in aliens. Sometimes they were not, like those that informed her political views.

She valued her faith above all – even above her relationships. 

I loved her very much. I am better for having known her. Am I being ungenerous for looking at her flaws alongside her strengths? Will my life be picked over when I am gone? Would that be a bad thing?

I don’t know how to feel about death in general. It’s a thing that happens. People are here and then they aren’t.

But I do think we have a form of immortality in our legacies. 

Our choices shape the way that we will be remembered. Those who mourn us, the lessons we’ve taught, the impacts on others that we have had, both positive and negative – that is our afterlife, and we make it in our own image. And this is life eternal: that those we love may know us, and remember us, and preserve the marks we’ve made on the world. 

The last tray of cookies just came out of the oven. They’re delicious.

N. Christensen is a teacher of some things, a student of others, and a master of little.

Holy Impatience

Holy Impatience

Winners of the 2019 Art Scholarship: Esther Candari

Last year, Exponent started an annual art scholarship for Mormon women of color. The goal of the scholarship continues to be to amplify the voices of LDS women artists of color by lending needed support for them to be able to continue to develop their art.

Over the next few weeks, we will be sharing the work and words of some of the recipients of that scholarship. These extraordinary women have the ability to seismically change the artistic language of the Church: imagine Come Follow Me manuals, Church members’ homes or Church building hallways full of their work. We’re grateful that they shared it with this community and look forward to announcing this year’s scholarship very soon. If you’d like to contribute to the fund for this year’s scholarship, please contact exponentiieditor AT gmail DOT com.

Esther Candari: I was born and raised in the beautiful and diverse state of Hawai’i. My father is a first generation immigrant of Filipino Chinese heritage and my mother is what we in Hawaii call an inside out coconut. Though my heritage is Asian-American, the culture of my upbringing is very Polynesian which has deeply influenced my worldview and resultantly my art. 

My professional artistic education began in 2012 at BYU-Hawaii, which further strengthened my Polynesian ties, and where I went on to graduate with a BFA in painting and sculpture in 2017. Since then I have studied at the New York Academy of Art and now Liberty University where I am currently completing my MFA. My ultimate goal with my education is to gain the tools to be able to practice professionally as an artist but to also serve as an educator and advocate for the arts, especially in minority and underserved communities. 

For the most part, my work focuses on combining innovative multimedia techniques with classical narrative portraiture. Common themes are the intersection of feminism and the gospel, my personal struggles with identity as a mixed race american, and advocacy for human rights issues. 

Since I began depicting religious themes in my work a few years ago I have continuously sought to decolonize the standard depictions of religious figures, especially through the use of ethnic minorities for models. One of the main goals of my career going forward is to assist in broadening the canon of work within the Church by creating work that better reflects a global membership and provides more nuanced views of scriptural and historical narratives. 

Something I have always been acutely aware of in both fine art and religious settings is the lack of nuanced and accurate representation of Polynesian culture. As my contribution to an invitational show I am part of this fall, I plan to create a piece that communicates through Hawaiian iconography the duty of an artist to illuminate others and proclaim truth.

Mormon Women Claiming Power: Dialogue Note from the Editor

[image error]Cover art by Michelle Franzoni Thorley

The Spring 2020 issue of Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought is about to be released. This issue was guest-edited by Exponent II. The following is my letter from the editor that will accompany the issue. We hope that Exponent readers will seek out this special issue.

As the editor of Exponent II, I have had innumerable Mormon men—progressive and orthodox—tell me that they would like to listen to women, but women just don’t step up and talk. From President Russell M. Nelson’s 2015 plea for women to step forward and be spiritual leaders to ex-Mormon Reddit forums, men ask for women to speak but decline to change the structures and traditions that have pressured women to be silent. When women do start talking, they are often met with hostility, condescension, disinterest, or closed doors. In this environment, it is hard for women to confidently claim power. It often means shrugging off insults, letting go of others’ judgments, and ignoring those who would try to interrupt. It means rewriting your own story, refusing to let anyone stand between yourself and God. It means making people uncomfortable, including, sometimes, yourself.

In this issue, guest-edited by Exponent II, we asked women to write about claiming power. We hoped that writers would think creatively about the idea of power, including traditional forms of authority in an organizational hierarchy but also going beyond this sometimes-limiting definition. We wanted women to examine their engagement of power within their families, wards, workplaces, and selves. We were interested in the way Mormon women are using their power to empower other marginalized groups. 

The response to the call for submissions on this issue was overwhelming. If I wasn’t intimately familiar with the vitality of the Mormon feminist community, I would have been astonished at the amount women had to say on this topic. Reading through women’s many stories of joy and frustration, heartbreak and resolve, left me buoyed up and newly committed to share my voice without apology. This issue contains academic essays about undocumented Latina Mormons, interrelational power, and historical ads for abortion pills in Utah. We feature personal essays exploring the practice of women participating in blessings, how faith and stories can lend the power to change one’s life, and the long relationship between Exponent II and Dialogue. We have also included two roundtable interviews: one with women in positions of workplace authority and the other with women who have been ordained. Lita Little Giddins writes about the cover art by Michelle Franzoni Thorley and reflects on the experiences of Mormon women artists of color. The poetry creates a satisfying arc that explores Mormon feminist theology. The short stories in the fiction section consider vulnerability and the deliberate choice to expose oneself to risk. The book review section examines how literature reveals power imbalances and how Mormon women are claiming power in a variety of ways to address those imbalances. Finally, we close with a sermon about Bathsheba, sexual violence, and reclaiming the divine feminine.

The first time Exponent II guest-edited an issue of Dialogue was in 1971. At the close of her introduction to that “pink issue,” Claudia Bushman wrote, “One major achievement, if we can claim any, is that ordinarily silent women have examined their lives and written about what they have seen. . . Women have always been valued in the Church but not encouraged to say much. We hope that now and in the future, more ladies will speak out and, what is more, be heard.” Only half of Claudia’s wish has been fulfilled: women are speaking, but they are not always heard.

More spaces than ever, including my favorite, Exponent II, now exist for Mormon women to speak unapologetically and with candor. No one can reasonably claim that Mormon women are not stepping forward to add their perspectives to the most vital conversations within our church, our faith, and our communities. Learning about women’s experiences in Mormonism is not a niche specialty relevant only to other women, but essential to understanding the lived history and theology of our faith tradition. If you are a current Dialogue subscriber, you will soon be receiving the Spring 2020 issue of Exponent II in your mailbox. We are excited for Dialogue readers who may not be familiar with our work to add Exponent II to their libraries by subscribing to our quarterly magazine. You can read more and subscribe at www.exponentii.org. We are all richer when women claim power through sharing their voices. May they be heard.