Exponent II's Blog, page 253

Seeking Racial Harmony in a Culture of Whiteness

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At a meeting this week with leadership from the NAACP, President Nelson said “We are impressed to call on […] the entire world to demonstrate greater civility, racial and ethnic harmony and mutual respect.”

He had started by quoting the Family: A Proclamation to the World, “Nearly a quarter century ago, the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles proclaimed that ‘All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny.’”

This Proclamation was written from a heteronormative point of view, and its goal is to keep marriage and family centered around heterosexual relationships. What’s clear in the way it’s being used now is that it was also written from a place of white privilege, and rather than using this opportunity to explore their assumptions, the First Presidency are asking members of colour to fit themselves into this frame of whiteness.

In their own statement, the church recognizes that repentance and forgiveness are key elements of healthy relationships, and warn that those who fail to fulfill their responsibilities will stand accountable before God. When the church doesn’t seek forgiveness for its actions against black and brown peoples, it’s either showing that repentance isn’t actually important or that they don’t believe the harm they’ve caused is actually, meaningfully wrong.

It reminded me of when, in January 2015, now-President Oaks said in an interview: “I know that the history of the church is not to seek apologies or to give them […]. We sometimes look back on issues and say, ‘Maybe that was counterproductive for what we wish to achieve,’ but we look forward and not backward.”

For some members (which means it should be the case for all members, if we take our baptismal covenants seriously), the way the church talks about the Temple and Priesthood Ban causes pain today. If the church wishes to look forward on this issue, and to demonstrate greater civility and respect, it requires a repentance process — something needs to change.

Jane Manning James is sealed as a slave to Joseph Smith – an ordinance for which someone else had to stand in proxy, because she was not allowed to enter the temple. Does that speak of racial harmony? Must our black and brown brothers and sisters accept a cultural structure of whiteness to allow this ethnic harmony President Nelson wishes for?

Our rules about and approach to music in sacrament meeting are racist. Our expectation that men and boys will wear crisp white shirts to participate in ordinances and the hairstyles we consider appropriate are upholding the colonialism of white American culture. The stories about pioneers failing to mention Green Flake, who was a slave and travelled with the first pioneers, is because we centre a culture of whiteness. We’d rather not deal with the discomfort of learning that his labour was given to the church as tithing. And we white members, who make up the majority of church leadership, can ensure we don’t have to deal with that, simply by not mentioning it. I’m 30 years old, and I was born into the church, to a mother who was born into the church. Today is the first time I’d heard Green Flake’s name.

We can’t claim to be in the world but not of the world — a peculiar people — if we fail to extricate ourselves from a white supremacist culture. Referring to the Family Proclamation saying that we each have a divine nature and destiny, but failing to acknowledge that for some people, for much of our history, that divine nature and destiny was seen as eternally lesser than our white brothers and sisters, is not respectful. Calling on the whole world to change, and refusing to acknowledge changes we ourselves need to make is very arrogant.

At the end of his remarks, President Nelson said “Together we invite all people, organizations and governmental units to work with greater civility, eliminating prejudice of all kinds and focusing more on the many areas and interests that we all have in common.”

If the areas and interests we are to have in common require people of color to discard their interests and take up ours, the interests of white church leadership and membership, we are perpetuating structures of whiteness. It’s going to take a lot of work to tear them down. I would have liked to have seen acknowledgement of that in President Nelson’s remarks.

Derrick Johnson, president and CEO of the NAACP, said “We are clear that it is our job to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.” If the church truly wishes for greater civility, racial and ethnic harmony and mutual respect, it is incumbent on us now to listen.

Guest Post: Things I would tell my daughter (or son) if she was going on a mission

[image error]by Ashley

Your mission president is probably a good man, who has been called because he has held many church callings and been very professionally successful. Unless he went to medical school, he is not a doctor. Nor is he a mental health professional so he is not qualified to make any decision related to your medical or mental health.

Chances are, he is also not an expert in church history or even church doctrine, so if he gives you strange counsel, rather than believing him just because he is your mission president, research it and let me and your father know what it us so you can learn to differentiate counsel of the spirit from counsel of the flesh.

You are in an area that is unknown to us with customs that may be strange to you. Try to learn everything you can about the culture and treat the people there with respect and deference. But be mindful of differences and customs that can lead to harm to you or other missionaries. You will encounter people who are not seeking the gospel but who lead happy and fulfilling lives. Wish them well. You will encounter others who are seeking the gospel. Welcome them, be gentle and patient with them. You will encounter others who are not seeking the gospel but who are struggling with many things in life. The answer for them may not be church membership – it may be a food pantry, a domestic violence shelter, or a suicide hotline. Before you left, we researched all of these resources for the area that you are in. Don’t be afraid to give community resources to the people you meet.

Your father, your grandfathers, and many other people we know and love, had wonderful mission experiences. We also have some friends who didn’t have such wonderful experiences on their mission. And as a therapist, I have worked with many people who experienced quite a bit of harm on their missions and whose personal safety was compromised.

We hope you will have, and want you to have, a happy, healthy, and successful mission (which means a lot of different things). We feel that as your parents, it is our job to protect you and advocate for you. We think we have a better sense of your safety than anyone else. As a licensed mental health professional, I also happen to believe that I likely have a better sense of trauma, mental illness, mental wellness, and assault and abuse than your mission president does. I am going to give you an instruction that you are to violate any mission rules about calling home should any of the following scenarios arise while you are serving a mission. These scenarios will not be unfamiliar to you, because we have talked about them in our home since you were small. If any of these scenarios happen to you, they are not your fault. You did nothing to invite them, and it has nothing to do with your obedience, worthiness, or commitment to your mission.

We love you. We believe that God loves you as well, and that you are cherished by Heavenly Mother and Heavenly Father. But we do not believe that goodness protects you from harm, and we want you to be safe, both physically and emotionally. We want the same for those around you. So you call us, collect, no questions asked, should any of these issues arise. If your mission president seeks to punish you for breaking the rules, we will intercede as much as we can because these are OUR rules. We give you our love as you go off on this spiritual journey. We will be here whenever you need us.

• If your companion – or any other missionary – hits you, or physically assaults you in any manner, you call your mission president immediately. Then, you call me, no matter what the rules are. In fact, CALL ME FIRST. No matter what the rules are.

• If your companion – or any other missionary – threatens to physically harm you, immediately notify your mission president and CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

• If your companion – or any other missionary – talks about harming themselves or anyone else, notify your mission president immediately and CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

• If your companion – or any other missionary – attempts to kiss you, touches your body in ways that makes you uncomfortable or attempts to be sexual with you, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so we can discuss how to report this to your mission president and keep you safe.

• If your mission president, or any other member of the church physically harms you, threatens to physically harm you, talks about harming you or anyone else, or in any way touches you, touches your body in ways that make you uncomfortable, or attempts to be sexual with you, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

• If your mission president, or any other member of the church talks to you about sex or masturbation (beyond a simple “Do you follow the law of chastity), or attempts to meet with you alone in secret, or buys personal gifts for you, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

• If your mission president, or any other member of the church, makes comments to you about being a polygamous wife, email or call me immediately.

• If you mission president, another missionary, or any other member of the church does any of the above to any other missionary you serve with, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

• If an investigator hits you or physically assaults you in any matter, call your mission president immediately and then call me.

• If an investigator threatens to physically harm you, immediately call your mission president and then call me.

• If an investigator talks about harming themselves, or anyone else, notify your mission president and CALL me.

• If an investigator or someone in the community talks about wanting to commit suicide, reach out to the crisis/mental health resources we have already identified in your area.

• If you observe domestic violence or sexual or physical abuse in an investigator’s home, CALL ME so we can discuss how to report this to your mission president to maximize your safety and the safety of the family.

• If anyone in the community of your mission physically harms you, threatens to physically harm you, follows or stalks you, verbally harasses you, or makes sexual comments or attempts to grope you, molest you, or rape you, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so that I can notify the church and your mission president that you in an unsafe situation and assess the safety measures your mission has put in place.

• If your companion, another missionary, your mission president, or any member of the church puts you in a situation that you do not feel comfortable or safe in, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY. This could include riding in a car with no seatbelt, unsafe volunteer opportunities, being alone with people you do not know, tracting in the dark in unfamiliar or unsafe areas, or any number of scenarios.

• If your companion, mission president or another missionary are putting pressure on an investigator to get baptized or make a commitment to getting baptized and you do not think the family is ready, or that they have all the information they need to make that decision, advocate with those people as to why this family or investigator may not be ready. And call or email me so I can assist you with this.

• If you discover that someone in your mission is falsifying information related to proselytizing and baptizing, report it to everyone you can think of and report it to me so that I can assist you with making sure all parties are being truthful.

• If you are sick, and your companion, mission president or any other missionary do not allow you to rest and recover from illness or get medical treatment, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so that I can ensure you get well.

• If another missionary is sick and the mission president or any other missionary do not allow them to rest and recover from illness or get medical treatment, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so that I can advocate for that missionary to get well.

• If you experience depression, anxiety, feelings of hopelessness, or suicidal thoughts at ANY point on your mission, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so that I can ensure you get appropriate treatment for mental health needs.

• If another missionary you serve with experiences depression, anxiety, feelings of hopelessness, or suicidal thoughts at ANY point on their mission, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so that I can advocate for that missionary to get appropriate treatment for their mental health needs.

• If another scenario arises that I have not covered here, but that makes you extremely uncomfortable, you CALL ME IMMEDIATELY so I can help you make a plan.

With love,

Your mother

Ashley was shocked to discover that motherhood is actually one of her passions, and is constantly balancing being a mother and her job.  She is a licensed clinical social worker and adjunct professor living in New York City with her husband, toddler, and cat.  It is continually surprising to her that the place of birth on her passport is Provo, Utah, because she lived there for six months after she was born and has not lived in Utah since.  Ashley really believes her chicken pot pie is the best you will ever eat, and also bakes a mean chocolate layer cake.  This post is largely informed by her previous work as a therapist for LDS Family Services. 

The Super Obvious Advantages of Male Biology to Priesthood Leadership

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Figure Studies by Leonardo Da Vinci

Let’s talk about the unique attributes that men possess that make them better suited to preside over the church than women.

Take height, for example. On average, men are taller than women. This makes it possible for men to keep important priesthood artifacts such as sacrament trays on high shelves and retrieve them without the worldly aid of a step stool.

Unless, of course, they choose to keep them in a lower location, like under the sacrament table. Then maybe shortness would be handier. Luckily, that height thing doesn’t apply to all men. There are many short men. There are also many tall women.

Never mind. Didn’t the Lord scold Samuel for judging people by their height?

But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart. (Samuel 16:7)

The heart! That must be the key. Let’s talk about how the male heart is different from a female heart and better equips males for religious leadership.  The male fetal heartbeat is, on average, slower than a female fetal heartbeat at the time of labor.  This is important to the welfare of the church because, well, um—forget it. We don’t ordain fetuses to the priesthood, anyway.

But there are differences between adult male and female hearts, too. Men are less likely to have heart disease than women, which is part of the reason males enjoy longer life expectancy than females. Since they usually live longer, males have more opportunity to gather the life experience necessary to perform well in church leadership roles. Moreover, there are more senior males than females who are alive, healthy and available to serve.

Oh wait. I got my facts mixed up a little there. It’s actually men who are more prone to heart disease and women who live longer. Hmm.

Let’s focus more on how male biology lends itself to personality qualities necessary to lead the church. Most men have higher testosterone levels than women, and higher testosterone has been linked to aggression.

Yikes! I thought religious leaders were supposed to be meek, not aggressive. Luckily, many men are not aggressive at all. In fact, there is so much overlap in personality traits between the sexes that sex might not be a very good tool at all for predicting an individual’s personality or capacity for spiritual leadership.

Clearly, we need to consider a trait that is found in all men, but never in women. I got it: penises. Almost all men have one, while women usually lack this important organ, which makes it possible for men to pee standing up and even eject semen, not that I can think of any way that either of these two skills could be useful while performing official priesthood duties.

So what is it about having a penis that makes a person better qualified to perform church duties? If you are supposed to keep your genitals in your pants while administering the priesthood, why does it matter what kind of genitalia are under those pants?

Guest Post: Unsaid Prayer

[image error]by Sara

A few weeks ago I was asked by a member of the bishopric to give a prayer. As I hesitantly agreed, he added, “Under one condition. You don’t write it down this time.” I stared at him blankly and felt anxious. I had given a prayer about a year ago and had written it down. Prior to that I have only given two other prayers during sacrament and had scribbled something down. No one had ever said anything to me. I turned to social media later that day and stated how I didn’t even know that wasn’t allowed and apologized for “offending the bishopric since I seem to be good at doing so.” I added how the last time I had pondered what I wanted to say throughout the week and wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget and in turn would help ease my anxiety over speaking in church (another post for another time). He responded that it was perfectly acceptable to ponder, but writing down a prayer would hinder the “Spirit” and only Sacrament and Temple prayers were allowed to be written. We agreed I would give the closing prayer.

As the week progressed, I felt a strong urging to write it down. I tried ignoring it to appease the counselor, but the feeling persisted. Thursday during my teacher planning, I grabbed a 3×5 card and began writing. The words were fluid. I didn’t stop until I filled the card. When I put my teacher blue pen down, I smiled. I felt at peace. I felt ready.

Sunday morning rolled around. I wore a skirt with pockets, the 3×5 card scrapping so loudly against the fabric I assumed everyone near me could hear it. No one noticed besides me. I could feel my heart beating faster with every word the 2nd speaker said to the point I heard ringing in my ears. After the sister closed her talk, the same counselor who had put conditions on my prayer walked to the pulpit, “Thank you Bro X and Sis Y. After our concluding speaker, Bro Z will give us our invocation.”

What? I thought. Something was wrong. I was told I would be giving the prayer. I had prepared all week, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I had experienced a great moment with the Holy Ghost. I finally felt prepared, that I had made progress in my years-long struggle with church. I quietly placed my 3×5 card back into my purse feeling defeated. The bishopric KNOWS I struggle, they KNOW of my anxiety surrounding church, they claim to KNOW my heart. But what they DIDN’T know is that I had strong spiritual moment. I felt that I had lost, but in a sense, they were the ones that lost. They do NOT know my heart, they do NOT understand my struggles. But this week, I KNOW my God is always with me when man is not.

UPDATE

The story did have an update this past Sunday. Friday evening, I received a message asking me to pray (by the same counselor). I replied that I had thought I was supposed to pray two weeks prior to which he apologized over and over again. I cried myself to sleep Saturday night, anxious about agreeing to pray. In a way, I feared I’d be forgotten about only to be tormented again by my fears and anxiety. When the closing hymn hit its last few notes, I walked up to the stand, my organs crammed in my throat. I was terrified I would see my Kroger Frosted Flakes again. As I reached into my pocket of my skirt and watched the congregation slowly bow their heads in sync, I froze. I felt like the counselor was watching me. I prayed, and absolutely hated what came out of my mouth. It didn’t feel right or real. It wasn’t me. I kept it short, hoping not to stumble over any words. I kept thinking, I’m a teacher by profession; I speak in front of a hundred students daily. Why was an audible prayer so difficult? The counselor caught up with me during 3rd hour and kept saying how proud he was and grateful for me facing my fears. I faked a laugh and joked that I hadn’t used “thee’s and thou’s” to which he replied, “yes you did.” I felt even more hollow. I had failed myself. I had failed the Spirit that had spoken to me in great lengths during the week to say something that wasn’t genuine in order to keep within the “Mormon mold”.

Sara wishes she could spend her days binge watching The Office, but spends most of her time playing with her son, teaching the youth of tomorrow, and making weekly batches of chocolate chip cookies

The Impossible Position of LDS Women: Unsolicited Assertiveness

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Photo by Easton Oliver on Unsplash

Several years ago, my bishop mailed a letter about tithing to all the members of our ward. It was wordy and mostly benign, but it contained some statements and advice that I knew weren’t doctrinal (specifically, telling members to pay tithing on their gross (not net) income and sharing a “faith-promoting” anecdote about how his mentor got rich because he paid a very generous fast offering, so my bishop followed his example and became financially successful himself). “Prosperity gospel” views are pretty widely-held in Mormonism, and I normally just roll my eyes or laugh off such statements, but I became increasingly irritated this time. I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid letter. My husband agreed with me that the bishop had overstepped in a couple of his comments, but he didn’t get why it was such a big deal to me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure, either.

After mulling it over for a few days, I realized my feelings of anger and frustration came not because it was inappropriate for me to go to my bishop and tell him he’d messed up and needed to offer a clarification and apology to our ward, but because it would never be appropriate for me to approach a priesthood leader in such a way. I explained to my husband that, someday, there is a possibility he will have a calling where it would be his responsibility to correct a priesthood leader. He could be a bishop, or a stake president, or a general authority, or the prophet. But in my case, the “highest” church calling I could receive is General Relief Society President, and even in that highest of female leadership capacities, it would still be outside my scope of authority to approach my bishop and tell him he was wrong.

Of course, I realized there were other options available to me. My choice wasn’t a binary between keeping silent and raking my bishop across the coals. I could have made an appointment and gone in to discuss my concerns. I could have sent him an email asking for his source material. But when approaching priesthood leadership, I am always in the position of supplicant, and I feel somewhat as Esther must have felt when appearing unsolicited before her husband-king. Will my requests and concerns be greeted with the golden scepter of compassion or a weapon of ostracization?

As with nearly every other suggestion or criticism that’s ripened in my head for the leadership of my ward/stake, I’ve chosen to keep silent. The benefits just aren’t worth the risks.

I’m a fairly straightforward communicator–far from a shrinking violet. So if I feel this way, how many other women feel the same? We’ve been told to “speak up and speak out,” that our voices are needed. But when church leaders at the highest levels talk about how they face the people with words of the prophets, not face the prophets with words of the people, it’s clear that direction and information-passing in the church is a one-way street: it’s always from the top down, never the bottom up. This culture affects us even on the ward and stake level, and since women are [almost never] in a substantive position of authority over men, input and insight that is uniquely female too often remains at the bottom of the hierarchical ladder, unspoken. I see the patriarchal hierarchy as a waterfall, starting at the highest levels and thundering down to a pool below. Perhaps those of us in the predominantly female pool are speaking, but it’s difficult to hear us over the crashing sheets of water, and climbing up a waterfall is a dangerous proposition.

Our leaders say: sustain and obey your priesthood leaders.

Our leaders say: don’t steady the ark.

Our leaders say: don’t criticize the brethren, even if they’re wrong.

Our leaders say: sisters, step forward, speak up, we need your inspiration.

Obeying that last directive requires going against a lot of cultural conditioning.

As long as our model is patriarchal, partnership is impossible, and women will continue to choose silence over unsolicited assertiveness.

Mother’s Day is the Worst

[image error]CW: Suicide

The twentieth anniversary of my mother’s death is in eighteen days. I was seventeen years old and one week away from graduating high school. When I decided on a simple black prom dress months before, I had no idea that I’d be attending my mother’s funeral on the same day. The older church ladies chastised me for wearing my black pants and sweater to the funeral, but I couldn’t make myself wear my black dress to both events. It was too much grief for a prom dress.

My experience of her death was complicated by the quality of our relationship and the manner of her death. She was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and treatments at that time were not effective at managing her condition. Needy and impulsive, she wasn’t the stable, healthy woman that I needed her to be. I was angry, so angry, with her the last time we spoke. She had treated my sister poorly again, always harming the people closest to her. “I love you,” she spoke hopefully the last time we talked, but I hung up the phone. I was done in teenager terms, but she was done for real. My mother overdosed later that night. Mormon women are supposed to be happy, not commit suicide.

It shouldn’t have surprised me that becoming a mother brought so much fear and anxiety and depression, though it did. An unexpected pregnancy too soon after the first one did not help. Before long, I was drowning in motherhood. Drowning. I tried to talk with my visiting teacher, but she changed the subject. My husband didn’t know what to do.  I had difficulty making friends in a new place. I felt devastatingly alone and those feelings were beginning to threaten my existence.

I discovered Mormon blogs a few years before my first pregnancy and started visiting Feminist Mormon Housewives more and more after my second daughter was born. I read a backlog of posts about women struggling with motherhood. I clearly remember reading about Lisa Butterworth’s periodic mothering breakdowns and Nat Kelly’s difficult relationship with her mother, who was homeless and addicted to drugs. So many posts presented motherhood and daughterhood as complicated fraught relationships and experiences. I was comforted by the grief of others, who challenged General Conference narratives of motherhood with their messy life stuff. Maybe I wasn’t alone in my brokenness. Maybe this wasn’t just me. Maybe.

I’ve come a long way since that time. Fear, anxiety, and depression no longer rule my life in the way that they once did. I love my two daughters and I’m thrilled with people that they are becoming. I am proud of my marriage and my husband and I are about to celebrate fourteen years together. There are many sources of joy in my life and many happy, healthy relationships. But Mother’s Day and my mother’s death anniversary are still hard. They are the two days each year when I still grieve, the only times when I get upset enough to cry about what I never really had and then lost too early in life.

I don’t share this story so that you will pity me; pity just isn’t that useful. I share this story so that those whose mothers and daughters have also experienced severe mental health problems, breakdowns in relationships, moments of overwhelming regret, or the intense pain of surviving a family member’s suicide can read the story of someone who has been through something similar. Growing up, I thought I was the only kid whose mother lived in a mental health hospital. Today, I am confident that I am not alone in the particular conditions of my grief, in the details of my trauma. The vulnerable stories of other women saved me in a way that nothing else did. I shy away from certainty in my religious beliefs, but I know the power of those narratives. These are the sacred stories of my community.

On this Mother’s Day, I want to celebrate this sharing of hard stories. A few days ago, my co-editor Sara K.S. Hanks and I published Where We Must Stand: Ten Years of Feminist Mormon Housewives. It is an anthology of blog posts from FMH, which first showed me that I wasn’t the only Mormon woman who had a complicated relationship with motherhood. I offer it to you, dear reader, as the very best Mother’s Day gift I can give to you. Whether you are a mother or a daughter or both or neither, I invite you to read this book and find something that resonates with your own situation and challenge you to understand something new about the diversity and complexity of Mormon women’s experiences.

Sisterhood on Mother’s Day (and Book Reviews!)

It was more than a decade ago, and I was in a new branch, and just called to be a Relief Society Teacher. I wasn’t thrilled. I had only recently found the Exponent Blog as my favourite resources for lesson plans, and wasn’t confident teaching Mormon women. To me, Mormon women meant mothers—the same mothers who seemed to have nothing in common with me- who was childless at the time. I thought the calling was not inspired, but assigned just a job that the new girl could fill.

 

“It’ll give the women a chance to know you,” encouraged a friend from my previous ward.  “I think it will be good.” Her words were enlightening and supportive—I had not thought of this calling as an opportunity for the women to get to know me. But she was right– we do get to know those who teach us. Armed with her advice and support, I accepted.

 

The branch president wanted to set me apart as soon as I told him I’d do the calling.  Before I could think twice, I found myself seated with his hands on my head, being blessed for inspiration and direction. Mid-way through the setting apart, he said, “This calling will also be a blessing to you and your children-” he abruptly stopped.  My eyes were closed, yet I rolled them. I was sure that he stopped because he recognised that he had made a mistake. I had no children, I was not a mother. He paused. It was as though the room froze– no one knew what to do with such a glaring mistake. He decided to keep going and seemed to rush. The thing was  quickly finished and I left without shaking his hand. I wasn’t in tears, but the opposite! I was satisfied in the knowledge that the branch president was not guided by the spirit.

 

[image error]Or was he? At the time, I was tutoring children. I had a dozen in my home on a regular basis. At church, I felt pushed away from them– as though the Mormon mothers shunned me and thought me daft, compared to the non-Mormon mothers of my students who often asked me for parenting advice and respected my input.  It was in this non-Mormon circle of friends where I felt included, where I was mothered, where I mothered in return, and where sisterhood reigned.

 

This memory came to me as I was contemplating this Mother’s Day post. Over the past few weeks, I have been preparing for Mother’s Day—even though I am now a mother of two of the most marvellous children ever to grace the earth, I still feel the need to shield myself from the day. Don’t get me wrong—I love Mother’s Day with my family. It’s church and church on Mother’s Day that drains me.

 

Confused? Think about this one example: Missionaries call home twice a year—Christmas (Birth of Christ) and Mother’s Day (primarily focused on the woman who birthed you– but maybe adoptive mothers and dads, too if you’re progressive like that). In the end, official mandates to pedestal the mortal act of birth simply leave me cold. In fact, I think cancelling church on Mother’s Day would be the best thing the church could ever do to support its female members. Spending the day with my family (or with female friends) is by far my favourite part of Mother’s Day! But I digress.

 

In preparation for Mother’s Day survival, I read materials—some old, and some new, that inspire me to feel happy about Mother’s Day at church. In this year’s reading, I found a common theme: Sisterhood. Here are some of my favourite inspirations this year:

 

Our own Heather wrote in Surviving Mother’s Day:

 

“Whether you’re a diamond or Cubic Zirconia, a long sufferer or a screamer, a maker of fine baked goods or a purchaser of Hostess products, I salute all the women out there who love and nurture and make mistakes and keep on going. And especially I thank all the women in my life, my friends, my sister, my daughters, and my mom, who treat me like a ruby, even when I’m not.”

 

Showing gratitude, and speaking well of each other, even when our opinions differ so widely, is imperative! I am trying to get better at it myself (I am rather gifted with foot-in-mouth even with those of whom I agree!) Thus, I was thrilled and almost confused when I saw Sheri Dew’s most recent publication, Oh, How We Need Each Other / 2018 Mother’s Day Booklet.

 

[image error]So I read it. And I liked it! In it, Dew acknowledges without judgement that Sonia Johnson was opposed to the church’s position on the Equal Rights Amendment. She states Johnson’s position as a matter of fact, without taking sides. Dew’s words were inclusive for those who have children, and those who do not, with a distinct nod to Eliza R. Snow—another childless hero of my own. The Minutes of The Female Relief Society are also celebrated as Dew bears witness of the relevance these minutes have for all Relief Society sisters today. Reading this was truly a delightful surprise that again fed into the feelings I had on distinguishing SISTERHOOD as the preferable, imperative concept for Mother’s Day.

 

I was also happy to read the words expressed by artist Caitlin Connelly in the Deseret News. In the article, she celebrated creation as means of eternal, nurturing worth:

“I hadn’t physically born children, but I had brought into existence hundreds and hundreds of characters that wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t created them. That changed my heart and I understood my own ability as a nurturer differently after that point. And I think that’s true for everyone, not just me as an artist. What have you created and cared for that wouldn’t exist if you hadn’t cared for it?”

Though my own daughters are adopted, as I have parented, I have seen things in me that are [image error]my mother—and likewise, I see things in my daughters that are me. Thus, when I read Jean Knight Pace’s Hugging Death: Essays on Motherhood and Saying Goodbye, I could relate to much of what she wrote—the bravery of women, then longing for connection, the complications of everyday life. The book is a short read, but yet a collection of powerful personal essays that relay the complicated feelings we each have with life, death, love and, of course, mothers. She wrote:

 

She is dying of cancer. I am living with four small bundles of life called children. She is winding down, getting her affairs in order. I am winding up- preparing for elementary school, teenagers, college, marriages, and trying to figure out what exactly my affairs are. Sometimes she visits- bald and stumbling, with only one small suitcase and a best-seller from the airport in tow. And I wonder- with my house fill to bursting with children’s clothes, toys, sleeping bags, art work; and my hands full to bursting with cooking, gardening, teaching, and accounting- how will we know each other, how will we remember each other, when she is gone?

In the above words, I wondered how I could remember my own Heavenly Mother. Though I know She is not dead, I long for Her, and look for Her in the work I do with my hands, my heart, and the work I share with my sisters—fellow daughters of a Heavenly Mother. (If this is your cup of tea, remember that the Exponent blog brought you a beautiful Heavenly Mother’s Day series.) I found myself weeping as I read, good, strong tears as I shared feelings of love, and earth and work and sisterhood.

Divinity is key in celebrating Mother’s Day. But how can this be done without leaving anyone feeling uncomfortable? I think it would be this gem shared with me by a friend:

“Best Mother’s Day talk was in a ward I visited where the bishop honored the woman who anointed Christ’s feet with spikenard. The bishop pointed out that in a room of the original twelve apostles and the messiah, only the messiah and the woman understood his divine purpose. He then gave every woman in the congregation a small vial of spikenard in honor of the inspiration that we receive by taking part in the gospel.”

 

To me, this is divinity, and would make the best Mother’s Day at church– celebrating sisterhood, women’s inspiration, and Heavenly Mother. So, in reading these things, though I am not thrilled to be attending church on Mother’s Day, I am not dreading it. And I’m pretty excited to get to share it with my family at home afterwards.

 

What about you? What do you to do prepare for Mother’s Day? How can you support the women around you who struggle with that day at church?

Relief Society Lesson Plan: The Lord wants us to accept ministering from others

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Woman anoints Jesus feet by pcstratman, used in compliance with the CC BY-SA 2.0 license

To start off the discussion, I think I’d open with a story from Jesus’ life, in Luke 7:36-50. This is the story of the woman who came and anoints Christ’s feet while he dined in the Pharisee’s house. The Pharisee tried to interject when this happened that the woman was a sinner, but Christ let her continue. He didn’t necessarily need his feet anointed, but she needed to do it. Christ appreciated her thought and time.

Some thoughts I had:

Accepting others’ service is a demonstration of humility, that you can’t do everything on your own and that we are interdependent with our fellow humans. When we live in a culture of rugged individualism and self-reliance, refusing others’ service can be a thing of pride for us.

Accepting the service of others is part of living a life of gratitude.

The Church’s lesson suggestion for this topic has some questions already, but here are a few more that could generate conversation:

Have you been the recipient of service you intended to turn away but then ended up needing it?

Have you been hesitant to ask for help from others? What are the barriers to asking for assistance? How can those barriers be removed?

What have you done when others’ forms of ministering or serving doesn’t help you? What if it has caused harm?

I like the addition of the scripture about the body of Christ, “And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you.”

My Relationship with Mother’s Day

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“Mother” by Dalal-Al-Wazzan Photography

By Jenny

My relationship with Mother’s Day has evolved over time.  It started off as an awkward sort of relationship in college when I was immersed in a culture that suffocated me with the idea that motherhood would be my crowning glory, but that I was nothing until that moment came.  I was in the in-between state where all of the pursuits I was working on were merely side things to keep me occupied and help me to meet boys so that my real work and glory could begin.  So when a congregation of single women at BYU stood up to receive their Mother’s Day gift after Sacrament meeting, we all did so with obvious awkwardness.

Soon my relationship with Mother’s Day turned to bitterness. As a young bride at twenty-one I finally had what I needed to make a baby and to be rightfully showered with Mother’s Day approbation.  Except every month my period came with a fury and left me feeling hopeless and worthless.  When you’re given messages your whole life about worthiness and how worthiness is tied to being a mother, it’s hard not to feel like God sees you as unworthy when you are incapable of producing children and joining the ranks of other women in their highest and holiest callings.

At twenty-three I proudly carried a car seat with a chubby little baby to church.  I thought, finally, I will love Mother’s Day.  But my relationship with Mother’s Day did not improve.  It was no better when my kids were old enough to be in primary and sing to me from the stand.  It was horrific when I struggled with post-partem depression after my son was born.  It was agonizing after I nearly lost my third baby due to a nervous breakdown while I was pregnant with her.  I remember with perfect clarity the Mother’s Day when I was nine months pregnant with my fourth and last child.  I was big, and hot, and tired.  The house was cluttered with toys and clothes and construction mess.  My body ached too much to bend down and pick up one more thing off the floor.  I spent sacrament meeting scrambling with an unruly two-year old.  I have no idea what was even said at church.  I was just beginning to question the paradigm of womanhood and motherhood that I had always known.  I had had a second nervous breakdown with this pregnancy, which had almost caused the delivery of my child at 23 weeks.

I looked into the mirror that Mother’s Day and saw a sad, swollen, tired face.  I felt angry at my family for not even recognizing my special day as a mother.  It was just another day to throw tantrums, expect me to do everything, and not appreciate anything.  I was angry that there was even a holiday to make me feel like I needed to be celebrated.  Who were they (the card and flower companies, the church, the internet) to tell me that I needed a special day to celebrate my motherhood, when everything about motherhood was breaking me down, body, mind, and spirit.  What I needed was support.  What I needed was not to be told, “Hey you have the hardest, crappiest, most thankless job in the world.  Congratulations!  You were divinely created to do this job and we celebrate you for that.”

What I needed was not to have to do the hardest, crappiest job in the world on my own.  What I needed was not to have my worth tied to motherhood.  My relationship with Mother’s Day was showing its abusive colors at that point.  Now, after six years of working through a lot of pain, and shifting my entire worldview, I have come to a new place in my relationship with Mother’s Day.  I avoided Sacrament Meeting four years in a row since that painful day before my daughter was born.  I had no desire to listen to men put me high on a pedestal of unhealthy motherhood ideology.  Last Mother’s Day was my first back at church in five years.  I went to sacrament meeting in my parent’s ward.  I looked at all the men on the stand, four of whom were going to talk about motherhood.

Through some of the meeting I was pleasantly surprised to hear the words, “I am a feminist,” and to hear someone invoke the name of female deity.  I loved hearing a man describe the birthing of his daughter.  His description was beautiful and real.  I thought, it’s not really the celebration of motherhood that I hate, so much as the old patriarchal way in which we do it.  I’ve been in countless conversations with women in which we shared with great clarity, every detail of our birth stories with each other.  It’s a topic that comes up often among my “mom friends” because birthing a child is a poignant and deeply corporeal experience.  I find it really beautiful to also hear men describing with detail the birthing of their babies without getting squeamish about the female body.

Then there were other things said during sacrament meeting that followed the old patriarchal way of celebrating motherhood.  I heard many quotes by general authorities along the lines that mothers are so hard on themselves and that they need to know how good and divine and special they are and not be so hard on themselves.  I know how quotes like this can help the burdened women of the church to feel -better or to feel understood.  I used to find comfort in quotes like that too.  But now I realize that I was only hard on myself because I was supposed to be so good and divine and special.  You can’t give someone a gaping wound and simultaneously hand them a band-aide thinking you’ve done your good deed for the day.  Listening to patriarchal dogma on Mother’s Day was always a little like drowning while someone was pushing my head under, and yet also saying “Here, just reach up and take my hand.  I’ll help you out.”

One talk in particular last Mother’s Day stood out to me.  A young married man who had just become a father was talking about his older sister whom I had grown up with in young womens.  He mentioned the pain she felt at not being married and not being a mother.  After sacrament meeting I saw this woman’s mother sitting behind me and I asked her about my friend and what she was doing with her life.  I thought, still being single, she must be doing amazing things in the world.  Every question I asked came to a dead end and I realized with sadness that my friend in her early thirties, was living in the limbo phase that I experienced briefly in college.  She was working and waiting for marriage and motherhood to finally make her life real and meaningful.  I left church that day raging in my heart for the horrible message that young women are given, that life doesn’t start until they are wives and mothers.  I wished I could tell my friend and my twenty-year-old self that the world has great needs and there is so much more to be done than bearing and raising children.  There is no one divine purpose for every woman and we need so much more from women than motherhood.

I spent twelve years in an emotionally abusive relationship with Mother’s Day, believing falsely that my worth was tied to motherhood.  For the last six years I have worked through all of the unnecessary suffering that bad messaging has caused me.  I am happy to see that some of that messaging is changing.  It’s not changing fast enough for me or for my daughters.  If there is one thing that I want them to know that I didn’t know, it’s that their path is their own and the time to live it is now.  There is nothing about motherhood that finally makes a woman worthwhile to society.  I want them to celebrate their personhood, not a role that ties them to someone else.  I want them to feel worthy in whatever their pursuits are, so that they don’t overburden themselves trying to live up to someone else’s ideals.  And I want Mother’s Day (at least the Mother’s Day that I have known) to stay as far away from them as possible.

From Grace to Grace

“And he received not a fullness at first, but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fullness.” (D&C 93:13) Sometimes I hear so much about Christ’s perfection that I forget about his progression. The word perfect, as used in the New Testament, means whole. It has become more significant to me as I think of the whole human race belonging to one another. In this view of heaven, it cannot be heaven unless and especially it includes those too often deemed by society as “less than” or “others.”

In Matthew chapter 15, a woman of Canaan approaches the Savior, pleading,

“Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil.” (22)

At first Christ ignores her, and when his disciples ask him to send her away, he says,

“I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

It seems He has a narrow focus of His role on earth. But the woman is unrelenting, again pleading, “Lord, help me.”

The next verses really strike me when I take them at face value. Christ’s answer is quite harsh:

“But he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it to dogs.

And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.” (26-27)

Her persistence pays off and Christ acknowledges her faith and heals her daughter. Some may interpret this story as a test of her faith, but I view it now as a sign of Christ’s humility and maturation.

This interpretation might not work for everyone, but it allows me to identify with Christ’s growth and grace. He allowed his vision to be expanded by the pleas of a woman who believed in a God who included even the outcasts. It reminds me of the story of Linda, a transgender woman brave enough to share her story and challenge our views and actions. It reminds me of survivors of sexual assault who refuse to be silenced and degraded. Father Ed Dowling said, “Sometimes heaven is just a new pair of glasses.” I am grateful for the courage of those who share their stories and help me to see with new eyes. As I’ve let their experiences penetrate my soul, I’ve become more than I knew I could be.

I love how Father Gregory Boyle describes this fullness, “Soon we imagine, with God, this circle of compassion. Then we imagine no one standing outside of that circle, moving ourselves closer to the margins so that the margins themselves will be erased. We stand there with those whose dignity has been denied. We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. We situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.” This is what Christ modeled when he ate with the sinners and touched the lepers. It was not about serving them, it was about being one with them.

I think there can be fear that if we show love we are somehow condoning sin. Christ was a great example that love must come first. When we take time to get to know a person and truly see them, often we find that our judgments fall away. We begin to see each person as sacred and feel compelled to celebrate their worth.

What stories have challenged your biases and expanded your view of heaven?