Exponent II's Blog, page 273

Virginal Sex

 

By Anonymous

No one ever instructed me about sex. When I was about 12 years old I figured out the basics from a magazine article about female condoms in my parents’ living room. Soon thereafter, I saw vague diagrams in a middle school science class, but remained quite naive.

 

At some point in my religious education I began to be taught that ‘marital intimacy’ is special and sacred and holy. My years as a young woman in church were filled with lessons on the virtue of ‘purity’; which was presented as a code word for chastity – and it could be lost. I was supposed to defend it. I was told that romance novels were pornography and never to read them. Even speaking the word ‘sex’ was taboo; I was taught to avoid even thinking about, much less engaging in sex. I was taught to wait until marriage. I was promised that would make it the special, powerful, and sacred act it is supposed to be.

 

When I was barely 20. I sat in the BYU library and read what I could find about sex in the week leading up to my marriage. I didn’t know anyone more informed than myself to enlighten me about this mysterious practice I would soon be authorized to participate in. I had no idea how to be actively involved in the act of sex, or that I should enjoy it. A roommate who was also engaged told me that her older sister warned her it would hurt. No one talked to my husband about sex either.

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Two days after our spring wedding we had successful intercourse for the first time. ‘Successful’ meaning my husband deposited sperm in my vagina. This was sex as I understood it. As I had been prepared to understand it. I was basically a passive participant. The act left the opening of my vagina torn in three places due to my very tight hymen and inadequate arousal. I called my mom the next night because I had finally gotten a hand mirror and looked down there and it was still hurting and bleeding. I told her I could see three places had torn. She said it’s not a big deal. She said you still have to give him sex so he will feel loved. My body was mangled and my own mother said it was no big deal! There was no discussion about how this had happened or what to do to improve the situation. This was the first and only time I ever in my life spoke to my mother about anything of a sexual nature.

 

Four months later we were back for fall semester at BYU and I finally went to a doctor to get some repair work done. A few snips were significant in reducing the pain I had continued to have. Still no one told me what had happened to me was abnormal or preventable.

 

The way I had been taught in the church, I didn’t expect to have sexual feelings. I spent a lot of energy suppressing these as a teen and young adult. I strove to be the ‘pure’ woman of God I was supposed to be to enjoy peace and happiness in life. I avoided romance novels and sexy movies. I was careful what media I engaged with and avoided what I was suppose to avoid. I was never told what I should do to make the experience more enjoyable for myself and my spouse except to be ‘pure’.

 

There was one time in the early years of marriage I actually felt particularly good during sex. My husband finished and rolled off. I asked him to touch me, but he declined; he was done and fell asleep. I touched myself. I experienced my first small orgasm. Ashamed and demoralized that I had masturbated, I confessed to my husband the next day. He thought I needed to tell the bishop, so I did. I was not allowed to take the sacrament for a while.

 

Six years later, while pregnant with my first son (my fourth pregnancy), I experience an orgasm during sex with my husband for the first time. Wow. Is this what he’s been experiencing all along? Did it take that extra bit of testosterone from the baby for me to join in the fun? In the next few years, this happened only occasionally, more often when I was pregnant. I was so naive that I still really didn’t understand my own body’s capacity for arousal and sexual activity.

 

The typical sexual experience in the first 14 years of my marriage was one initiated by my husband in the middle of the night. By the time I became partially aroused, he was done and asleep again. I was left wide awake with no prospects of fulfillment.I became increasingly frustrated with this status quo. I read LDS books on marriage and tried to awaken my sexuality, still concerned that I was getting my information from the approved channel.

 

Gradually I began to feel cheated. God had made my female body in such a way that arousal and sexuality was hugely complex and difficult to enjoy, yet the bulk of reproduction was directly my responsibility and pain. God made men that they might have joy, but women that they might suffer bringing forth the children of men. My main goal in a sexual encounter was to avoid discomfort, and I only rarely felt any physical pleasure. Sex was a huge disappointment in my life.

 

Sex is so built up (and yet so taboo) in LDS culture. Why is it that we can’t even say the word ‘sex’ in an LDS context? Talks about “God ordained marital intimacy” really seem to have set women like me up for disappointment. Sex was supposed to a special powerful act reserved for the context of a celestial marriage. Living the law of chastity was supposed to have made my love deeper, richer, more meaningful. Growing up, I was frequently reminded that only by perfect obedience could I find true happiness. I think that is one main reason why, for me, I was left feeling so disappointed. Despite my best intentions, and living according to the commandments, I often felt like I had been used and was more lonely after sex rather than loved, nurtured and understood. If personal purity is the key to the joy of marriage and sex, and I am not happy in the sexual aspect of my marriage am I to conclude I am not pure enough? That hardly seems fair when the people involved (myself and my spouse) are not given an approved channel for becoming informed of sexuality except through the Holy Ghost. I found the Holy Ghost to be just as absent in teaching me as everyone else in my life. My prayers for help in this area of my marriage were left unanswered.

 

I have come to a place where I now reject many of the ideas I was taught about sex. First, I was taught sensuality was among the carnal ‘worldly’ passions to be avoided. But the only way I could begin to enjoy sex was by letting go and allowing myself to enjoy my body and my sensuality. Focusing on enjoying the feel of the wind on my skin, relaxing in a warm bath, the feel of my husbands skin against mine, etc. Experience has taught me that I will enjoy sex with my husband a lot more if I break many of the proscriptions I was taught. If I read or watch something romantic or sexy I will be more likely to get in the mood and have a better experience. I think it was wrong that I was taught anything to do with sex was basically pornography and off-limits. I’ve learned from reading about women’s sexuality that women are often better able to enjoy sex when they think about it first. Having been taught that ‘preoccupation with sex in thought word or deed’ was wrong because it did not give the context for when it would be appropriate to engage in sexual thoughts in order to prepare for an enjoyable experience with your mate. It was wrong that I was punished for trying to explore and understand my body’s ability to experience pleasure. How could I teach my husband about my body if I didn’t know myself? Most of all, it was wrong to throw two ignorant, naive, yet ‘pure’ young adults together and expect them to figure things out on their own once are married; and to promise them it would be amazing if done this way. It was wrong to have sex become so taboo that no one talks about it. And what if mutual satisfaction were part of the standard for what constituted ‘sex’? Not just what is necessary to procreate, but what is necessary to bring both husband and wife joy and fulfillment from their expression of love? Growing up in the church, I was also taught that only those who achieved the highest degree of the celestial kingdom would continue having sex eternally. What a strange doctrine we have!

Thank You For Being A Friend

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As I make lists and shop and chop and bake in preparation for my favorite holiday tomorrow, I also give thanks. The recent loss of a dear friend has helped me refocus on the blessedness of everyday gifts. I have appreciated the pink sunrises and orange sunsets. I’m trying to notice and savor the deliciousness of a crisp apple, the smell of clean sheets.

I am a lifelong member of the church. I am also a liberal feminist in a deeply conservative small town ward. The past two years have been difficult, especially the last year. As my thoughts and feelings about the church and the gospel have evolved, I have come to realize how very much the Exponent community means to me.

I don’t have many liberal friends. I often feel lonely. I have good friends, but we have very different views, including our ideas about politics, the second amendment, and the role of women in our church. Trying to understand how good and loving people can have such different values and priorities can be exhausting.

As a long time reader, I have found the Exponent blog to be a breath of fresh air. Having kindred spirits, even though we have never met in person, has been a lifeline for me. Reading your thoughtful posts and comments has stimulated my thinking, and strengthened my conviction that while there is good in our gospel and community, there is much that is negative and damaging. Contributing to Exponent over the past several months has been an honor and a challenge. Knowing that there are others that share my questions and frustrations has been so important to me.

So, as I count my blessings, naming them one by one, know that the Exponent family is on my list. Thank you for being my friends.

Bear ye one another’s burdens

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As the US is fast approaching its Thanksgiving holiday, I want to take a moment to talk about need and generosity. I had an interesting experience last week that has consumed my thoughts for several days. On my walk home from work, I ran into a pair of sister missionaries who were visiting my neighborhood. Though I was cold and tired and hungry, I stopped for about 20 minutes to chat with these nice ladies. I asked them about their homes and families, and we talked about my job and volunteer work. I don’t go to church, I told them, but I honor God in giving my time to serve the people and animals he created. I find joy and peace in socializing rescued animals that are up for adoption, in packing baskets of food and household supplies for Syrian refugees, and in giving what I can – food, water, a few dollars – to the needy I see around me.

In fact, I told them, I have two cases of water in my car right now! Can I give you a case of water for you to give to the needy you meet?

I was shocked to hear that the answer was no. No, they told me. We’re not allowed to give anything to the homeless.

I was sad at this, and I told them so. Not because I’m self-righteous and count my charitable giving so high, but because I have personally been on the receiving end of rather a lot of charity. When I was growing up, my family was often in need. I ate a lot of food from Deseret Industries (I still get nauseated at the smell of the orange drink powder). Sometimes the church paid our rent, and sometimes the government did. Sometimes we stayed with other families, and during one memorable period during the cold months in Michigan, we stayed in a campground.

We had no home. We were homeless.

I was eight or nine at the time. I lived in a small camper trailer with my parents and one sister (the other two slept in an aunt’s basement). There was one bed, which my parents used, and my sister and I each curled up on a short, narrow dining bench. We cooked on a hotplate and tramped through the dark and cold to use the toilet and shower.

It wasn’t like camping. To this day, I hate camping because it reminds me of being homeless. But also I think this and other experiences have shaped my tender heart. When I see someone in need, I will give cash when I have it. If I don’t, I’ll ask what I can buy for them at a nearby store. If I don’t have cash or time to spare, I sincerely apologize, and I really do feel badly for having to say No. I keep water bottles in my car ready to hand out, and in the winter, I prepare packets of gloves, socks, chapstick, etc to deliver to those I pass.

I do this because these men and women are fellow children of God. They are my real and true brothers and sisters, and I feel compelled to do what is in my power to bring a little relief to their day.

Poverty, homelessness – these are not indicative of a person’s character or worth. They are indicative of circumstances only. I can not see a homeless person and not be reminded of my own experience. I do what I can, and it was shocking to me that these missionaries, sent into the world to serve God’s children, are forbidden from providing the smallest relief, a donated water bottle, to the most desperate among us.

In this circumstance, I feel as though rules, regulations, and policies are obstructing the work of Christ. This is not God to me, and hearing it broke my heart. For me, doing what is right is more important than doing what is correct.

 

Tarot as a Spiritual Practice

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The Hermit

I spent much of my teenage and younger adult years with just a small handful of spiritual practices, with prayer and scripture reading at the heart of those. These were both referenced continually at church and there was some encouragement at various points in my life to be accountable for reading and praying on a particular schedule. Prayer was thanking and asking Heavenly Father for blessings and scripture was reading the words of men who talked with Him. I got a lot out of both of those practices in the past and continue to use them, but not in the same way that I used to.

There is something powerful in the countercurrent spiritual practices that I have witnessed in Mormon feminist circles. I have seen and participated in women blessing women, women re-interpreting scripture, and recognizing the sanctity of hard conversations and working through our prejudices individually and collectively. In these moments, I have seen women claim their own authority to reflect and connect with the divine in the ways that they themselves have devised. Several of my most powerful spiritual experiences have been with spiritual practices that were forbidden in LDS circles. These experiences left me craving a more creative approach to spiritual formation and self-reflection as I began to realize that there were more ways to connect to God and community than what had been presented in my religious education.

I first encountered tarot at a Mormon feminist retreat. Someone I had (and still have) a lot of respect for was doing readings for others. She read my cards that summer, the following summer, and the one after that. The readings were insightful and gave me some solid guidance, but I didn’t understand what it was all about. I felt ministered to during these encounters with tarot and I liked that it was about a dialogue between me and the person who was interpreting the cards.

A year and a half ago, I bought my own deck of tarot cards. I’ve been through periods of time where I have read my own cards 4-5 times a week or just occasionally. I don’t believe in divination and I don’t see my reading of tarot is an attempt to predict the future, but rather as a way to understand and reflect on different aspects of the many stories that are taking shape in my life. I start from the premise that all of the cards represent things that I may feel or experience. When I pull cards from the deck and spend time with those cards, I am asking myself to speak to and reflect on those specific feelings or experiences. Sometimes it is obvious to me how the themes of a card are related to my life and sometimes it takes more time to put my thoughts and ideas together.

More than any other spiritual practice I have engaged in, tarot reading draws on my ability to observe visual details and create connections and stories from those details. I am an art historian and have spent the last two decades learning to read images. The visual nature of this spiritual practice is appealing to me and I have felt empowered to read the individual cards and establish the boundaries and patterns of my own spiritual practice without a person or institution telling me that I have to read the cards in a particular way or that a certain schedule of reading is “ideal”. I give myself permission to define my own spiritual practice in a way that works best for me.

This practice has helped me feel aware of and connected to myself and my story, to God, and to my various communities. I can read the cards on my own, or take on the role of facilitating readings and self-reflection for others, which I see as an act of love and spiritual mentoring.

What spiritual practices have you modified or developed to best meet your needs and draw on your strengths?

Emotional Labor: A discussion guide for partners and roommates

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Are you about to enter a house-sharing relationship with someone? Would you like to reboot the divisions of emotional labor in your existing house-sharing relationship? Between getting married, living with roommates or extended family, we should discuss how we will divide up the non-paid work of keeping the household running.

Without cooperative discussion about how divide household labor, we may find ourselves falling into inequitable default modes. We might automatically do it the way our parents did or give a “pass” to the higher wage earner. We may fall into gender-role stereotypes of who should do what rather than consider individual talents and preferences for the task.

The term emotional labor includes the process of noticing, remembering and completing the tasks that benefit the individual or collective members of the household. The person doing the emotional labor of a task is the one holding mental space to make sure the task gets done, often by doing it themself.

There’s no one way to divide.  A healthy relationship will have ongoing dialogue so everyone’s needs can be met in the best way, and regular changes might be part of the solution.

Here’s a way to have that conversation.

1. Establish that all partners/roommates want:  

To show love to the other

To cooperate

To help bear the other’s burdens

To raise their children in love

A fair and equitable house sharing relationship

2. Clarify expectations and acknowledge contributions

“What do you see as your contributions to our home, family and interpersonal relationship? What do you see as my contributions? Are you satisfied with the division and balance of tasks? Am I? Are you willing to work together to recalibrate the division of tasks? Have we fallen into any inequitable default modes that should be changed?”

 Especially ask this question: “What do you do that I don’t even know about?”

3. Identify needs and resources

Needs: housing, food, childcare, transportation, finances, etc.

Resources: working adult’s income(s), stay-home partner’s time, part-time income, free family babysitting, etc.

Suggestions: agree that money earned by either spouse is the “family’s money” and tasks required to keep the house running are the “family’s tasks.” Just because Dad is at work all day and Mom is at home all day, doesn’t make it “his money” and “her chores.”

If there is a separation of bank accounts, assign each partner/roommate specific expenses to cover or pool money equally to pay bills.

4. Improve your ability to NOTICE

Things get done after being noticed. Noticing is a powerful relationship tool. Even inattentive or scatterbrained people can learn to notice when something needs to be done or when someone does a kind deed on their behalf.

5. Discuss the process of Emotional labor, and what to do when you’re the recipient of someone else’s labor.

The Emotional Load Bearer will:

Notice the need

Do, delegate or automate the task so the need gets met

The Emotional Load Bearer’s Partner should:

Notice the need/completion of the task

Express gratitude/acknowledgement

Reciprocate effort

“The sink was overflowing with dinner dishes. I quickly rinsed and loaded them into the dishwasher before sitting down with my book. My partner acknowledged, ‘I noticed you took care of the dinner dishes for us. Thank you! I’ll take our trash out to the can.’”

*A special note for partners who struggle to notice or follow through on tasks: it’s emotional labor for your partner to nag or remind you to notice or follow through. Do what it takes to accept responsibility for the tasks you have agreed to cover and find a way to do them in a timely manner. This will build your partner’s confidence and trust in you. Set an alert on your phone, use a list or to-do app, but do whatever it takes to assume the emotional load for the work you do. When your partner trusts you to follow through, it relieves their energetic burden and allows them more mental space for their own tasks. When tasks are shared and accomplished equally, it leaves more time to have fun together.

5. Now you’re ready for the household tasks inventory. Try to list every single possible task you and your partner can imagine doing in your household.

For each task, discuss:

Who strongly enjoys this task?

Who strongly dislikes this task?

Who is the fastest or best at doing it?

Is it worth it for the other partner to learn how to do this task, even if they are slower or don’t do it with the same quality as the other? (Beware of “learned helplessness” and the misogyny of incompetence)

What is the importance of this task?

What is the worth or $$ value of this task?

How much would it cost to outsource it?

What is the consequence if this task goes undone?

Do you have a preconceived notion of which partner is best suited to each task? Did you assume that they would do it without discussing it?

A partial list of possible household tasks is attached to this post as a PDF. You may find it useful as a springboard for discussion. There is a blank sheet at the end for you to include any additional tasks.

6. Divide up the task inventory in a way that will work for everyone. Let each person do the tasks they like. Be generous in taking on the task your partner hates. Be open-minded to learn how to do new things, even if it’s something your partner usually does faster. Treat time as your most valuable resource. Notice when your own tasks need to be done, but ask for help when necessary. Be flexible about covering for each other. Notice and acknowledge your partner’s work. Take collective ownership for house jobs: “our laundry. our dirty toilet.”

When one spouse works full-time and the other stays home, the trade of paid work for non-paid work is a tricky exchange. A common assumption in this situation is for the stay-home spouse to assume all responsibility for house upkeep and childcare while the working spouse shoulders all financial burdens. Even with only one adult wage earner in the family, the amount of non-paid household work is too much for one person.

There are creative ways for the working spouse to share some of the emotional load with their stay-home spouse. (Order groceries from the office and have them delivered to the house, email the kids’ teachers, make a dentist appointment, call the plumber, etc.) Be generous and understanding to each other, as you’re both under pressure and deadlines. Cover for each other when your partner gets overbooked. When things are quieter at work, take on extra tasks at home. Make sure the at-home partner also gets an occasional chance to have a full night’s sleep and a few energetic, wakeful hours of the day for creative output or personal development. The working spouse should aspire to a work-life balance which allows them time at home to help keep the household running and to facilitate their stay-home partner’s growth and ambitions.

When both spouses work or go to school, the same discussions about diving emotional labor should happen. Be sure to include ways to outsource or automate tasks neither partner can cover.

How have you negotiated division of labor in your house? What are effective ways to communicate and cooperate to meet everyone’s needs? What other tasks also belong on the inventory list? 

 Emotional Labor Inventory

On voting and vulnerability

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“Those in favour, please show by a raise of hands.”

Counting, recounting, recording.

“Those opposed, please show by a raise of hands.”

Counting, recounting, recording.

“The yeses take it.”

I breathed a sigh of relief–not because my preference was passed but because despite the strong words shared on both sides of the issue being voted on, everyone seemed to be okay. No one stormed out. No one was called unfaithful. The vote was noted, we closed the meeting, put the chairs away and gave one another hugs over doughnuts and over-cooled coffee.

After years of raising my hand to sustain new callings, church officers and to show a vote of thanks, I’ll admit that my first experience voting in a church business meeting was exciting and unnerving. To this point in my religious life, voting in church had largely been a point of formality. The bishop, stake president or general authority read a name and we sustained them. I never saw a contrary vote in my 30 years of attending LDS meetings. I know they exist but they’re certainly rare.

But right here, right now, voting carried some weight. I was putting my own opinions and judgement out in the open. As a member of less than a year, my vote mattered as much as everyone else’s—old, young, convert and lifetime member. And I’ll admit that the thought of conflict seemed suddenly scary. I didn’t want anyone to be hurt and I didn’t want to be wrong.

It was watching this process one year ago that fueled my excitement about being part of a church again. I realized that I didn’t just want to attend, I wanted to have a bit of skin in the game. As I watched my fellow congregants raise their hands for or against motions regarding everything from the election of a pastor to the adoption of a budget, it was exciting and a bit overwhelming to realize that no one person had all the answers. No pastor, no bishop, not even a prophet, could do this alone. Revelation and the inspiration that prompted it was a communal act. Every member was entitled and empowered to a part in it. And I wanted to part of that.

I try to be careful to not draw too many comparisons between my experiences growing up in the LDS faith and my experiences now in Community of Christ. Both continue to teach me to draw deep from the well of faith, to aim for goodness and to practice mercy. But as I raised my hand and voice on a touchy and controversial matter, I wish I could have told my budding Mormon feminist self that there would come a day in my life when conflict and difference of opinion at church would be a sign of involvement rather than disobedience or hardheartedness.  God has granted all of us a measure of the Spirit with hands and heart for building Zion. We are best served when we recognize the unique contributions, experiences and opinions of one another and not only dare to do right, but also dare to be vulnerable, mistaken, passionate and even gloriously wrong. We’ll be okay. And then we’ll end with hugs, doughnuts and over-cooled coffee.

President Bingham speaks out about women’s rights

http://www.mormonnewsroom.org.uk/arti...

Australia’s Public Opinion Survey Shows Support for Gay Marriage

Australians participated in a public survey asking if they were in favour of same-sex marriage. The debate had facebook users, private homes and others displaying prominent YES (pro-gay marriage) or NO (anti-gay marriage) frames, signs and posters, and even an LDS chapel was targeted with graffiti for the presumption that all Mormons were against same-sex marriage. The historic vote came in with 61% of Australians in support of these unions, making way for legislation to be introduced in parliament.

Australian news sources:

australia-votes-yes-same-sex-marriage-survey

Penny Wong breaks down in tears as she hears same-sex marriage result

 

International news source:

Australia Votes for Gay Marriage, Clearing Path to Legalization

Guest Post: Our Guided Reins

[image error]By Brittany Anne

I was terrified to ride her. But not terrified enough not to. On the back of a painted horse, I breathed in the free night air and let the outside sounds harmonize with my heart’s nervous trepidations. It was a beautiful awareness to have that honest, open sky above me and such a powerful creature beneath me. I wanted to be as present as possible, quiet and sentient of another beating heart beneath my own. I had entrusted my safety to the will of this wild and beautiful beast, and that made my heart tremble. But then… I was an intruder in her existence, a timid but earnest stranger thrust upon her unwitting back. Perhaps she and I were similar creatures. Maybe, like me, the heart inside her trembled for its own reasons; terrified, like me, of the things she wanted most.

Until that night, I had never ridden a horse, and as it is prone to do, my fatalist mind ran rampantly with the potential perils of the occasion. But simultaneous thrills ribboned through my bloodstream at the prospect of how many different places this creature might take me. So, as they so often seem to do, the coetaneous emotions of fear and excitement contended for my affections, and the visions of galloping atop that horse, barefoot and bare soul with mysterious night air in my midst and wildflowers in my wake triumphed over any involving my pulpy cranium.

Could I have summoned the courage to mount her back and gallop into the dark alone? I don’t know. I have always seemed to need a steady, guiding hand. Luckily this night, for this ride, I had one. A companion who knew both horse and terrain like they were simply continuations of his own being. He was ever attentive when I requested* (*begged) that he please (oh please!) guide my reins along with his own because I did not have the self-possession to guide myself. That there was someone with me who possessed every needful thing to protect and pilot me was the bridge over my reservations, and I crossed willingly into this expedition. Our ride was hours long and each minute that passed was a chaotic, beautiful one. My fear never really subsided altogether but it was quieted somewhat by the knowledge that my reins were in the hands of someone far more experienced than I. It wasn’t until the whole thing was nearly over that I realized… Somewhere along the journey, he had relinquished control of my reins without my knowing and I had been guiding myself for a great portion of the night.

Within those few metaphoric hours was a hidden gift. We have so many dreams. There are so many avenues beckoning. And the thought of them alights our hearts. But they may also intimidate the delicate parts of us that are still trying to grow. Taunting pangs of insecurity gallop across our souls, and so, all those things hoped for- those soul-awakening things- continue to sit lifeless and unadorned deep inside where all our fragmented pieces of Self commune. And yet, despite the enfeebling thoughts I had that night, not only did I get on top of that wild and kindred creature, but, with some help, I guided the night. I was excited and petrified and unsure, but by the end of it all, I had fallen in love with the whole experience- the terror and the glory of overcoming it.

There is a force more compelling than fear, and more sovereign than insecurity, and that is the pull we feel toward the divinity within us. Just like I was not alone in my ride in the dark, we are not unaccompanied in the things our identities crave. There is a Master of all our lives can be, who knows our destination- all its perils and all its promise- and can guide our reins and lead us there with all the wisdom and direction that only a Father could. This experience was so much more than just one of life’s amenities; it was a glimpse from my Heavenly Father of something I very desperately needed to know: that I am made for things far better than fear. And I hold within me everything that I need to pursue those better things.

Brittany Anne describes herself in this way: Wife, daughter, sister. I love: stained glass, Vincent Van Gogh, dictionaries, and tacos. I do not love: mayonnaise, collarbones, those big red soda machines, Anne Hathaway.

Who is my mother? A contradiction in the Proclamation

[image error] I teach Sunday School in my ward, and when a lesson on the The Family: A Proclamation to the World came up in this year’s curriculum I asked someone else to take it.  I just couldn’t teach a lesson on something that to me feels more like a political statement than revelation from God.  Others have written about whether or not the Proc counts as part of the Church’s canon, so I won’t get into that except to say that if it’s in the Gospel Doctrine curriculum somebody in Church HQ thinks it’s doctrine, and probably most members do, too.  Perception is reality.

So let’s just say, for a moment, that it’s canonized as doctrine.  What would be interesting to me then, is that this would make it fodder for a fun mental game I like to play: finding paradoxes and contradictions in religion.  This is fun not because I get my jollies from poking holes in my faith, but because I sometimes find that paradoxes are windows into enlightenment.  Here are some apparently paradoxical things that I’ve wondered about:

Losing one’s life to find it in the service of God

Self-reliance and relying on God

Forgiveness and protecting myself from further harm

Faith and works

Obedience and spiritual discernment

Divine intervention and unanswered prayers

Service and not running faster than I have strength

Iced tea and caffeinated soda

I see a contradiction in the Proclamation [Ref 1], which is that it places family relationships in an a very privileged position, and this is something Jesus did not do.  When Jesus called his disciples, among the many things he said to them was this:

For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.

And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household.

He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.

And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.

He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it. (Matthew 10:35-39)

Maybe that was just hyperbole to get them to understand that being his disciple wouldn’t be easy.  But then he also said this (recorded in Matthew 12 and Mark 3):

While he yet talked to the people, behold, his mother and his brethren stood without, desiring to speak with him.

Then one said unto him, Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to speak with thee.

But he answered and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?

And he stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren!

For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother. (Matthew 12:46-50)

Kierkegaard commented on this in his writings on how Christ’s love is the fulfillment of the Law, the Law being the standard for salvation, something we can never hope to meet on our own.  He wrote, “Christ’s love made no differentiation, not the tenderest differentiation between his mother and other men, for he pointed to his disciples and said, “These are my mother.”  Nor did his love make the distinction of disciples, for his only wish was that every man would become his disciple, and this he desired for every individual’s own sake.” [Ref 2]

So if Jesus didn’t regard ancestry or marriage as being particularly important in fulfilling the Law, why are we, as his disciples, so obsessed with family? I guess you could say Jesus really did think family was super important, but the New Testament just didn’t record that part of his teachings.  But you have to at least acknowledge an absence of explicit veneration of family ties. What’s there instead, if only as rhetoric, is a debasement of them.

The people of the Old Testament were also super obsessed with family and lineage, though in a different way.  It mattered so much that they tied a red string around a baby’s wrist so they would be sure to get it right as to which twin was born first. [Ref 3]  Jesus challenged that.  He told the Pharisees that he was able to make stones into seed of Abraham, so they’d best get over themselves. [Ref 4]  He was there to tell them that being born “chosen” wasn’t the way, He was the way.

And this is what bugs me about the church’s fascination with The Family.  How can family relationships be privileged, eternally and ritually privileged, and be in harmony with Christ’s non-distinction between people?  Isn’t Christ saying in these New Testament passages that the highest relationship is the one between an individual and God?  Are we in the LDS Church taking family temple sealings and idolizing them the way the Pharisees idolized their own genealogy?  Are families the Way or is He the Way?

Obviously we can try to do both.  We can try to take up our cross and follow Jesus and try to love our families and make covenants along the way.  But I think it matters what we have our eyes set on at the horizon.  Is the family a means to true discipleship or is discipleship a means to true familyhood?  This matters not just as a theological abstraction but because it informs how we use our resources.  When Jesus said “feed my sheep” did he mean build temples and spend every weekend at you can doing vicarious ordinances for the dead, or did he mean build schools and spend your weekends tutoring poor children?  It also informs what we think is possible in God’s family.  When Jesus said “come unto me” did he mean absolutely everyone or did he ultimately mean married, cis-gendered straight couples? [Ref 5]

Points of tension are where a paradox is supposed to yield to a deeper truth.  What might that be?  Are families not as important as current church practice and rhetoric would indicate?  Or are they the whole point?  Said another way, do they matter not so that people form eternal pairs that will have endless progeny, but because the meaning of salvation is being sealed to Christ, and sealing to one another in this life is a faint image of all that might involve?  If it is an image, are we too preoccupied with it? Is there a contradiction here at all? I think there is, but it doesn’t seem like tension between the contemporary Church’s focus on the family and the content of Jesus’s teachings is perceived by the Church hierarchy, let alone examined.

 

 

Ref 1.  The Proclamation is a symbol for me of the deification of the family I see everywhere in the Church.  This deification was boiled down to a sound bite by Elder David A. Bednar when he said,  “The basic purpose of all we teach and all that we do in the church is to make available the priesthood authority and gospel ordinances and covenants that enable a man and woman and their children to be sealed together and happy at home. Period. Exclamation point. End of sentence. That’s it.”  Interestingly, the training video in which he said this has been removed from YouTube.  I should find another quote I can pull to make my point here, but I’m too lazy.  And this one is burned into my brain.  I wrote about it here. Rebecca J of BCC wrote about it here.

Ref 2. Works of Love by Søren Kierkegaard, page 107.

Ref 3.  When Tamar gives birth to twins in Genesis 38, the midwife tied a scarlet thread around the hand of the one that put out the hand first, so they wouldn’t get the birth order wrong.  Genesis 38: 27-30.  This is just one of the more odd examples, there are plenty more cases where birth order matters a lot to the ancient Hebrews.

Ref. 4. Matthew 3:9  And think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham.

Ref. 5. By “ultimately” I mean in the afterlife.  There’s a rationalization for limiting marriage to straight people that goes something like this: Life is a three act play and we’re in Act 2.  Just because things look unfair in Act 2 doesn’t mean it ends that way.  In Act 3 God will heal everybody so they become cis-gendered and straight.  To be saved in the highest degree of heaven these things are required and God wouldn’t leave anyone out unfairly, so all these temporal aberrations will be wiped away.  I’ve heard this spoken without a trace of irony from high-ranking Church leaders.