Exponent II's Blog, page 262

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?

Relief Society Lesson Plan: The Worth of Souls is Great in the Sight of God

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When I was 10, I heard that missionaries had all studied the scriptures for four years at seminary and learnt 100 scriptures by heart. When I asked one of the perfectly lovely Elders who was at our home for dinner that night, if I could please have the list so I could get started memorising, I was surprised that he’d have to go home and check a list. I judged him pretty harshly for failing in his simple duty, which any ten year old could understand.

Of course, when I got to the third year of seminary, and my school study load increased, and I was working a couple of shifts a week, and I had to rely on rides to early-morning seminary, I realised that life has a way of making scripture mastery seem less important, in the thick of things, than it seemed to my 10-year-old budding-scriptorian self.

I taught my baby brother (nine years my junior) two scriptures, while I was still active in seminary. John 14:15, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” and Doctrine and Covenants 18:10, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God”.

Let’s look at Doctrine and Covenants Section 18:10-16 now, switching the genders a little, so it’s easier to apply to ourselves as a Relief Society:

10 Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;

11 For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all women, that all women might repent and come unto him.

12 And he hath risen again from the dead, that he might bring all women unto him, on conditions of repentance.

13 And how great is his joy in the soul that repenteth!

14 Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.

15 And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with her in the kingdom of my Father and Mother!

16 And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Mother and Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!

What stands out to you in these verses? Does it give a reason that souls are valued so highly? Or the opposite, does it suggest consequences or repercussions that come from the worth of souls being so great?

Why is this connected to missionary work? What does that tell us about the way we view or could view missionary work?

This scripture always reminds me of the Janice Kapp Perry song connecting this scripture to John 21:15-17:

After Jesus had risen, He came to the sea.

Asking three times of Peter “Lovest thou me?”

“Yea Lord,” he answered, “thou knowest I love thee.”

Then Jesus commanded him, “Feed my sheep”

Which immediately sends my thoughts to another scripture mastery scripture. Can you guess which one?

John 10:16 (But let’s look at 14-16)

14 I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine.

15 As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the sheep.

16 And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.

Do you think there’s a comparison here between Jesus knowing us and knowing the Father? Is this laying down of life a consequence of either or both of these “knowings”?

Is this idea of having one fold and one shepherd, this pull towards unity, connected to the knowing, or the valuing, or both? What are the relationships between these ideas, that the worth of your soul is great, that Jesus knows you, that Jesus lays down his life for you?

(Stay with this discussion for as long as is fruitful with your ward.)

Let’s jump off again, to something that the sheep idea reminds me of. We talk often about how this “other sheep” refers to the people of the Book of Mormon. Which person or people in the Book of Mormon are famous – at least among us Mormons – because of sheep?

Mosiah 27:34-37

34 And four of them were the sons of Mosiah; and their names were Ammon, and Aaron, and Omner, and Himni; these were the names of the sons of Mosiah.

35 And they traveled throughout all the land of Zarahemla, and among all the people who were under the reign of king Mosiah, zealously striving to repair all the injuries which they had done to the church, confessing all their sins, and publishing all the things which they had seen, and explaining the prophecies and the scriptures to all who desired to hear them.

36 And thus they were instruments in the hands of God in bringing many to the knowledge of the truth, yea, to the knowledge of their Redeemer.

37 And how blessed are they! For they did publish peace; they did publish good tidings of good; and they did declare unto the people that the Lord reigneth.

Are they valuing souls here? Do they know the people? How can we tell that they do or don’t? (If this helps the women in your class, write their answers on the board, or provide printouts and pencils to mark up the page with their observations)

Mosiah 28:3

3 Now they were desirous that salvation should be declared to every creature, for they could not bear that any human soul should perish; yea, even the very thoughts that any soul should endure endless torment did cause them to quake and tremble.

Is this a selfish or selfless drive? How can we tell? Do we ever participate in missionary work from selfishness? Does it matter?

And let’s look at the wider culture they were living in:

Alma 26:23-25

23 Now do ye remember, my brethren, that we said unto our brethren in the land of Zarahemla, we go up to the land of Nephi, to preach unto our brethren, the Lamanites, and they laughed us to scorn?

24 For they said unto us: Do ye suppose that ye can bring the Lamanites to the knowledge of the truth? Do ye suppose that ye can convince the Lamanites of the incorrectness of the traditions of their fathers, as stiffnecked a people as they are; whose hearts delight in the shedding of blood; whose days have been spent in the grossest iniquity; whose ways have been the ways of a transgressor from the beginning? Now my brethren, ye remember that this was their language.

25 And moreover they did say: Let us take up arms against them, that we destroy them and their iniquity out of the land, lest they overrun us and destroy us.

(Compare this text to the previously studied verses, and ask the same prompting questions, and any others you feel are important, including writing on the board or marking up photocopies): Are they valuing souls here? Do they know the people? How can we tell that they do or don’t?

And now we come to the really hard questions in this lesson, and it’s okay to take some time and dig deep here. It’s probably going to be uncomfortable to think about, but that’s because we’re not Jesus, and we need to repent. Repentance is many things, but I wouldn’t call it comfortable. (Allowing some quiet time – silence or quiet music – with the questions on the board or a handout can help if the women in your class need time to formulate answers they’re happy to share.)

What does it mean to be “transgressors from the beginning”? Whose cultures do we frame that way, or see through that lens?

Who in our communities do we feel like might overrun us and destroy us? How can we tell when we’re reacting to people from fear and not love? What can we do against that, or to repent when we notice ourselves in the middle of that dynamic? Is there anything we can do, or is it useless to try?

How can we become people who quake at the idea of any soul in torment, even those people that we decide come from wicked or stiff-necked or ignorant cultures?

These scriptures are again connected deeply to missionary work. Do we truly respect the worth of souls if we can only love people who will convert to our religion? How can we be more like Jesus, and try to truly know other people?

Brené Brown teaches that “true belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.”

This sounds to me like a way to respect the worth of souls. Not to value anybody else’s more than my own, not to place myself above anybody else, but to know myself – to believe in and belong to myself – so that I can truly connect with others, and develop a meaningful unity.

The one thing I’m pretty convinced of in this crazy journey I’ve been on so far, is that our Heavenly Parents want us back. All of us. No matter how many mistakes we make, no matter how serious they are. I know that that means they also love all the other people who are following the wrong paths and causing pain, and value their souls as highly. That’s scary and wonderful. We can’t do anything to earn or lose the love God has for us. We can only try to accept that that’s how it is, and become more like them.

Relief Society Lesson Plan: “With One Accord” by Reyna Aburto

[image error]I like this topic – I think there’s something very uplifting in the idea of people, in all their diversity, coming together to act for good in the world.  This is the theme of Reyna Aburto’s talk, “With One Accord.”

Introduction

Start out the lesson with an easy question that relates to the theme of the talk.

What are your favorite examples of unity in the scriptures? Any scriptural stories of deep loyalty or friendship that you have found compelling or meaningful? Why?

Naomi and Ruth
Jonathan and David
Elizabeth and Mary

I’d personally mention Ruth and Naomi because that story of unity and devotion reminds me of my own mom and her mother-in-law. After my dad died when I was a baby, my mom would have liked to move back to her home town to be closer to her mom and sister, but she stayed where she was,  a few blocks away from her in-laws, because we were their only grandchildren and she couldn’t bear to take us away from them. My mom took care of my father’s parents until they died in their 80s and 90s.

I might also comment on Elizabeth and Mary: I found a comment on the blog that nicely captures the dynamic of unity that Elizabeth and Mary shared when they were both pregnant and came together. “Mary turns to her for refuge. Elizabeth recognizes Mary’s distinct mission. Even their children-in-utero seem united. Mary, in this circle of acceptance, then speaks the gorgeous poem/prophecy (the magnificat). After the loneliness that must have accompanied her initial vision, Mary must have felt — upon meeting her “sister” — “‘How Good and how pleasant it is . . . to dwell together in unity.'”

 

Part I: Coming Together to do Good

Aburto begins by by talking about the remarkable journey of butterflies, as they fly from Mexico to Canada and back to Mexico. At night cluster together on trees for protection from predators and cold. She uses the monarch butterly as a central metaphor about the importance of unity as we all undergo our mortal journey.

 

A group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope.4 Isn’t that a beautiful image? Each butterfly in a kaleidoscope is unique and different, yet these seemingly fragile creatures have been designed by a loving Creator with the ability to survive, travel, multiply, and disseminate life as they go from one flower to the next, spreading pollen. And although each butterfly is different, they work together to make the world a more beautiful and fruitful place.

Like the monarch butterflies, we are on a journey back to our heavenly home, where we will reunite with our Heavenly Parents.5 Like the butterflies, we have been given divine attributes that allow us to navigate through life, in order to “[fill] the measure of [our] creation.”6Like them, if we knit our hearts together,7 the Lord will protect us “as a hen [gathers] her chickens under her wings”8 and will make us into a beautiful kaleidoscope.

Girls and boys, young women and young men, sisters and brothers, we are on this journey together. In order to reach our sublime destiny, we need each other, and we need to be unified. The Lord has commanded us, “Be one; and if ye are not one ye are not mine.”9

 

She discusses a few examples of LDS people coming together with their communities to help in times of great need. During the floods in Houston last year, an Elders Quorum president sent out a plea for boats to come and help stranded people, and ultimately got 77 boats from members and non members to come and help people and give them rides to where they needed to go. In Chile a Relief Society president wanted to help Haitian immigrants that were arriving, so she and other leaders organized Spanish classes to help them integrate.

Do you have any stories of people coming together in unity to help out in times of crisis? These could be stories from newspapers or from your own lives. Maybe you’ve seen some these kinds of projects in your own church experience?

I might mention this story of unity — of people working together for good — that I thought was pretty neat. A year or two ago a family was caught in a rip tide off the coast of Florida and they couldn’t swim back to shore. Strangers on the beach saw what was happening and formed a human chain of 70 people to rescue the family.

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/...

For a Mormon example, I really liked this story about a ward in Utah that came together to makeover a house for a refugee from Rwanda, with ward members donating  their various expertise to fix up the house. This is a great example of people working together to do something awesome that they couldn’t have done alone.

https://www.deseretnews.com/article/865640976/Beautiful-partnership-provides-home-makeover-for-refugee-mom-and-kids.htmlF

Part II: Creating Unity and Honoring Diversity

I like the idea of people coming together to work for good, but I do not like the idea of unity meaning we all look alike, think alike, act alike, speak alike. I’m completely uninterested in being in that kind of community. I like diversity. I like different perspectives. My favorite thing about these lessons is when people have different types of wisdom to share – it’s such a richer experience.

Does unity imply conformity to you?  Why or why not? How do we honor diversity at the same time we create unity? Can we do both at the same time?

I would comment on what I think is one of the best scriptural discussions of the way diversity and unity come together to work for the common good — the body of Christ metaphor in the New Testament. 1 Corinthians 12: 12-27

2 Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. 13 For we were all baptized by[a] one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. 14 Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.

15 Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body.16 And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body.17 If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? 18 But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. 19 If they were all one part, where would the body be? 20 As it is, there are many parts, but one body.

21 The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” 22 On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23 and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty,24 while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it,25 so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26 If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.

27 Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.

What are your thoughts about this passage? Does this resonate with your sense of how people — all different colors, backgrounds, ethnicities, ideologies, ages, education, etc.- can come together and find a place in the church? Or do you think this is far harder to achieve in reality than it is in theory. Why?

 

Part III: Creating Unity Within Diversity in our Relief Societies

I like these quotes from Relief Society leaders, who have wrestled with this issue of creating a unity that embraces diversity.

“It is a new time, it is a change of direction, it is a time to heal, a time to bond women to women and women to men. We can have unity in diversity and diversity in unity. We don’t have to be like one another to enjoy sisterhood. One of the important things we must do is to help the daughters of God know who they are and that they have had an important part in building his kingdom throughout all generations of time. Another of the most important things we can do is to learn to be accepting of one another and overcome judging one another, to learn to love aech other and build each other more. “ — Barbara Winder “Faith Hope and charity: inspiration from the lives of General Relief Society presidents.

 

“I am not typical of the ideal of Latter-day Saint womanhood. For example, I teach at a Catholic girls’ school; I was single until was thirty-eight years old; I have no children of my own… But paradoxically, I serve an important purpose by not fitting the traditional image. It would be difficult for someone in my stake to look me in the eye and say, “I just don’t think I fit the Relief Society mold!” I’m a daily reminder to our stake, for the time I’m serving in my present calling [as Stake Relief Society president], that the umbrella of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is large and welcoming. It is not made to shelter one kind of woman only. I may lack some of the usual powers, but I may have some that are unique to me. There’s room for all of us, and what happiness we can find as we use our individual powers to teach, bless, and strengthen one another!” — Karen Lynn Davidson, 1990 Women’s Conference Address is “Women and the Power Within”

I think these two quotes give us some good ideas on how to create a more unified Relief Society. What are your ideas? What concrete practical ideas do you have for how we can come together, appreciate each other’s strengths, and welcome the diverse talents and perspectives that we all have?

Conclusion:

End with this thought from Sister Aburto.

Like the monarch butterflies, let us continue on our journey together in purpose, each of us with our own attributes and contributions, working to make this a more beautiful and fruitful world—one small step at a time and in harmony with God’s commandments.

 

Relief Society Lesson Plan: The Saviour is our Perfect Example of Ministering

“Let our hearts and hands be stretched out in compassion toward others, for everyone is walking his or her own difficult path.”

-Dieter F. Uchtdorf

 

[image error]

To give your Relief Society opportunity to speak on relevant and familiar themes, you may consider looking to the examples of the Saviour ministering to women.

 

He healed the sick

It has been theorised that the woman with an “issue of blood” was suffering from prolonged menstruation. Given this, she would have been considered unclean for 12 years of her life. As stated, she had searched for help from physicians, but that seemed to make her problem much worse.

From Luke 8:

“47 And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately.

48 And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.”

How can we minister in the Saviour’s way?

Research has shown that women’s health complaints are often seen as trivial, and as such, many women have had poor experiences with professionals. Sisters can support each other with belief, and validation. Where appropriate, sisters may also be able to attend appointments with the individual or simply check in with her.

We can be vocal supporters of women’s rights to proper care. We can also speak openly about trickier health issues to remove any damaging stigmas. This is particularly helpful with “hidden” illnesses, such as chronic pain, or depression.

Sickness can be lonely. A text or email may be appreciated by someone stuck at home, or in the hospital. When wanted, sisters can visit and help around the home, or bring a meal. Childminding may also be useful.

When the sister is away from church, she may appreciate being updated on what she’s missing. She also may appreciate a thoughtful spiritual message.

The individual may also appreciate some pampering. As always, ministering should be about what the sister needs.

 

He ministered to the grieving

Jesus wept with Mary and Martha. Jesus loved their brother, Lazarus. Many interpretations exist, but I like to think that Christ had empathy for the pain of these sisters.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

-Washington Irving

How can we minister in the Saviour’s way?

There are many ways a person may grieve. Someone they love could have passed away, or perhaps all their children have moved out of home. I had a period of grieving when I knew I shouldn’t have any more children.

Sisters can minister by choosing appropriate language around the one in grief. This may include discussion about eternal life, but for many, this could be the very last thing they want to hear. It’s important to gauge what would be helpful to the individual.

Sisters can promote privacy by dropping off meals, flowers, or other thoughtful gifts on the doorstep, rather than have the one in grief worry about entertaining.

Where the individual needs company, sisters can simply sit with the sister, or watch a movie with them.

Remember anniversaries of loss. This is a particularly painful time.

Ultimately, it’s about empathy. It’s hard to know what to say or do when someone is suffering, but the best thing is to be honest. Try: “I don’t know what to say, but I love you.”

 

These are just two examples of women Jesus Christ ministered to. Hopefully, it will give you some ideas.

Happy teaching!

The Saviour is our Perfect Example of Ministering

“Let our hearts and hands be stretched out in compassion toward others, for everyone is walking his or her own difficult path.”

-Dieter F. Uchtdorf

 

[image error]

To give your Relief Society opportunity to speak on relevant and familiar themes, you may consider looking to the examples of the Saviour ministering to women.

 

He healed the sick

It has been theorised that the woman with an “issue of blood” was suffering from prolonged menstruation. Given this, she would have been considered unclean for 12 years of her life. As stated, she had searched for help from physicians, but that seemed to make her problem much worse.

From Luke 8:

“47 And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately.

48 And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.”

How can we minister in the Saviour’s way?

Research has shown that women’s health complaints are often seen as trivial, and as such, many women have had poor experiences with professionals. Sisters can support each other with belief, and validation. Where appropriate, sisters may also be able to attend appointments with the individual or simply check in with her.

We can be vocal supporters of women’s rights to proper care. We can also speak openly about trickier health issues to remove any damaging stigmas. This is particularly helpful with “hidden” illnesses, such as chronic pain, or depression.

Sickness can be lonely. A text or email may be appreciated by someone stuck at home, or in the hospital. When wanted, sisters can visit and help around the home, or bring a meal. Childminding may also be useful.

When the sister is away from church, she may appreciate being updated on what she’s missing. She also may appreciate a thoughtful spiritual message.

The individual may also appreciate some pampering. As always, ministering should be about what the sister needs.

 

He ministered to the grieving

Jesus wept with Mary and Martha. Jesus loved their brother, Lazarus. Many interpretations exist, but I like to think that Christ had empathy for the pain of these sisters.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

-Washington Irving

How can we minister in the Saviour’s way?

There are many ways a person may grieve. Someone they love could have passed away, or perhaps all their children have moved out of home. I had a period of grieving when I knew I shouldn’t have any more children.

Sisters can minister by choosing appropriate language around the one in grief. This may include discussion about eternal life, but for many, this could be the very last thing they want to hear. It’s important to gauge what would be helpful to the individual.

Sisters can promote privacy by dropping off meals, flowers, or other thoughtful gifts on the doorstep, rather than have the one in grief worry about entertaining.

Where the individual needs company, sisters can simply sit with the sister, or watch a movie with them.

Remember anniversaries of loss. This is a particularly painful time.

Ultimately, it’s about empathy. It’s hard to know what to say or do when someone is suffering, but the best thing is to be honest. Try: “I don’t know what to say, but I love you.”

 

These are just two examples of women Jesus Christ ministered to. Hopefully, it will give you some ideas.

Happy teaching!