Exponent II's Blog, page 274

Reading Scripture After a Faith Transition: The Transfiguration

 

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Mosaic of the Transfiguration, Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Mount Sinai.

I gave this sermon at the Las Vegas Community of Christ congregation on February 11, 2018.

I have spent a good share of my life immersed in scripture. For most of my teenage and adult years, it was my main devotional practice. Reading scripture was comforting and I felt God with me as I read. I felt like reading scripture gave me so much insight into my life and problems, whether it was from the text itself, or from the openness to God that I tried to cultivate during that devotional time, or just with a bit of distance from whatever was bothering me. Growing through different stages of life, I felt that my understanding of the texts changed and that felt good too. But I was about 32 when it all came crashing down on me. I was at the beginning of a big faith transition that would last for several years and end with me leaving the LDS Church and starting a new Community of Christ congregation with several other people and eventually becoming confirmed in my new spiritual home.

I had been used to reading scripture very quickly and reading for about an hour a day. After several years of reading the whole LDS canon each year, I decided to change my approach and read slowly and deliberately and blog my way through the Book of Mormon, chapter by chapter. It was a text I was very familiar with, as I estimated that I was on my 23rd read of it. I wasn’t very far in before I had to stop entirely. I was used to quickly reading through the bits that made me feel uncomfortable. Reading and blogging each chapter slowly forced me to encounter the text in a way that I wasn’t prepared for. Ultimately, I had to stop, as reading this way was destroying my faith. Next month, it will have been five years since I stopped reading scripture regularly, though I keep hoping that someday I will be able to pick it back up again as a daily practice.

For now, though, reading most scripture starts with all of my inner alarm bells and red flags going off and I go into a little panic each time, though reading scripture with my congregation is helping with this. I want to explain about this a bit more, but first I want to read the passage of scripture that is our focus today.

Our text today is from Mark 9:2-9. Bible scholar Elizabeth Struthers Malbon noted that Mark was the earliest of the gospels and that it would likely have been performed by a dramatic reader all in one sitting to a group of listeners. In the first century, only about 10% of people were literate, so these dramatic retellings were a key part of telling the gospel story. I’m just reading Mark 9:2-9 from the NRSV, but I like to imagine the intensity and drama of those first century readings.

2 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3 and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one[a] on earth could bleach them. 4 And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5 Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings,[b] one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6 He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7 Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved;[c] listen to him!” 8 Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

9 As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

To help us understand today’s reading, I would like to offer up a method of reading scripture that I’ve been working out since my faith transition. I have to credit the hosts of the Harry Potter and the Sacred Text podcast, my pastor Emily, and my friends Jeremy, Chelsea, and Melody with teaching me how to learn to read scripture again. They have helped me get unstuck where I have been so very stuck.  

The frame that I want to use to understand the Transfiguration text addresses the ways in which experiencing a faith transition can impact our ability to read and interpret scripture. I don’t want to claim that my experiences are universal, but I have learned a few good things about getting unstuck. So I’m asking you to consider two different ways to read: one that I will describe as “constraint” and one of “liberation.”

When I read scripture, it is hard to forget the ways in which scripture has been interpreted in my life. I absorbed a lot of literalistic interpretation of scripture. I would get a lesson at church, then a few years later I was likely to get the same lesson, and eventually there was just a lot of repeating the same kind of interpretation over and over again. When I read scripture now, my mind immediately defaults to that scriptural baggage that I carry with me, even though I wish that I could get rid of it. That baggage is big part of the constrained reading.

Constrained readings often focus on dogma and use scripture to reinforce a particular set of beliefs instead of using scripture to explore the message of Jesus and connection to God. Constrained readings use heaven and hell to motivate the reader to be obedient. A constrained approach to scripture often means that a passage has one important meaning, instead of many possible meanings. One of the biggest problems with constrained reading is that we can be trained to default to the interpretations we have inherited, instead of being able to hear God’s words anew and what God would have us hear in that moment.

So when I read the scripture that Darren had assigned, all of my constrained reading alarms went off. I imagined a mystical transfiguration of Jesus into a glowing divine manly God and I just don’t know what to do with that imagery any more. For me it feels like heavy baggage instead of good news. Peter, James, and John beheld the miraculous sight, were terrified and heard God the Father declare Jesus as beloved. My previous encounters with constrained readings is pulling me toward thinking that I should see this miraculous event as evidence of Jesus’ divine status, glowing proof of godhood. After my faith transition, this doesn’t sit well. This reading was reinforced in series of Sunday school lessons and it got to where I couldn’t read this passage in any other way. Reading the text triggered a particular interpretation, and it has been difficult to break out of those old readings. I felt that I am in tension with those constrained readings, which weren’t serving a good purpose in my life, but I didn’t know how to break out of that pattern of reading. And that is a place I’ve been stuck for about five years.

For me, the solution has been to frame new readings as liberation. Liberation readings break out of those ingrained patterns and free the reader to find new interpretations of the text that align with faith after transition. Liberation readings get away from ideas of heaven, hell, and obedience to find out what scripture has to say about the message of Jesus and connection to God. Liberation reading pushes us to break those old patterns and find new interpretations of the text. Liberation readings are about exploring meaning and its many layers. This kind of reading is grounded in the idea that the message of Jesus is ultimately a message of liberation, of freedom, and that Jesus’ inclination to upend tradition creates a new space for freedom of thought and practice and to explore connection.

And now, after acknowledging the constrained reading, I want to return to the text and ask “What does the text say about liberation?” Or even “where is this message of liberation being communicated?” As I was reading this passage and thinking about these questions, I wasn’t much interested in the transfigured Jesus anymore, but in the words that God says afterwards: “This is my Son, the beloved, listen to him!” In the past, these words meant that God was introducing Jesus as God’s one and only Beloved, God’s much loved son. It seemed as though God has this special love for Jesus, but only a limited amount of that special love. The rest of us just get a more generic form of God’s love.

These days, I’m less inclined to read this as further evidence of Jesus’ divinity and more likely to see that God was showing Peter, James, and John that God was claiming Jesus. And this Jesus was a homeless activist with radical compassion, who didn’t bother to follow social norms, and whose mother got pregnant before she was married, and no one knew who the father was, and who came from a forsaken place. Jesus was all of these things and God claimed him and this was surprising and even terrifying for the men who witnessed it. It broke all of their ideas about who God claims and why God claims them. God saw this outcast and rebel and spoke aloud and pronounced him Beloved.

The new reading feels liberating to me because I have been able to work my way out of the rut, to find a new meaning in the text, and to explore. The idea that God’s claiming of Jesus isn’t specific to Jesus, but is reflective of the way in which God claims all of us, regardless of social status. It’s not just Jesus who is the Beloved, but you are and I am too. That feels powerful. It seems like the text isn’t just claiming that God loves each of us in a generic way, but that there is something precious and sacred in that relationship. And it isn’t just precious and sacred to me or to you, but it is also precious and sacred to God.

And so I have acknowledged the constrained reading and found a new liberation reading that works for my present stage of faith. I think for this to all work out, though, I want to add another step to this process. I have learned from the Harry Potter and the Sacred Text podcast that one meaningful step of the sacred reading process is to ask ourselves “What is the text inviting me to do?”

Our theme for today’s service is “Listen to the Voice of God” and that is what this passage of scripture calls me to do. When God tells me that someone is beloved, I should listen to that and listen to what the beloved person is saying. I feel like God has helped me see the belovedness of others. I’ve learned that God is really interested in revealing the belovedness of those who sit outside of the mainstream, of confirming their worth.

There is Fatima, a Muslim women who converted to Mormonism turned Baptist minister who I heard preach about race in the Book of Mormon a few years ago and it was like nothing I had ever heard before: powerful and asking the audience to consider new questions on an old text. And God whispered to me “She is my beloved, listen to her.”

And when I was listening to Augustus, a young trans man going through a faith transition and experiencing rejection from his family because of his identity, God said “He is my beloved, listen to him.”

And when I was listening to Kelly, a deaf woman and a single mom to teenagers, tell me that her goal was to make more than minimum wage to improve the quality of life for her family, God said “She is my beloved, listen to her” and I told God that I already knew that one.

But there are others in my life that are harder for me to see as God’s beloveds, where the belovedness takes longer for me to see. On the first day of class, Nathan glared at me from the back of the classroom and often made obnoxious comments. He was a veteran whose words were always harsh. He didn’t want to be there and he wasn’t going to make this easy on anyone. But when we did group work, he was always a real help to another student who lacked confidence in herself. I could see that to her, Nathan was a valued classmate and another person on the journey of finishing a college degree after rough life experiences. And God said to me “Nathan is my beloved, listen to him.” He is still in my class and his comments are often offensive and argumentative, but I know that he is beloved.

Scripture tells us that God speaks through those at the edges of society and in our scripture today, God tells us that those people are beloved and that our job is to listen to them. The powerful get a lot of airtime, but the words of God come from the mouths of those who we may see as dubious. I would like to close with a prayer.

Dear God,

We seek to know you

And feel your presence with us.

In our choices and actions,

May we be drawn toward the work of justice and peace

For as long as we sojourn in this life.

Bless us with moral courage,

And lead us into integrity and authenticity.

Help us to hold ourselves and our communities

Accountable for our words and actions,

And consider the policies, procedures, and laws we support.

Guide us to grace for ourselves and each other

That we may always use the privileges we hold

To the benefit of those without.

Move us to build communities founded on

Mutual respect, inclusion, and equity.

Help us to grow into better ways

Of knowing and doing and moving through this life.

Help us to hear the words of your beloved in our lives.

Be with us, O God

And help us to live out your peace.

Amen.

 

Congratulations to Exponent’s Wheatie Award winners! Here are links to all of our winners.

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Congratulations to Wheaties award-winners from the Exponent:

Best Contribution to Interfaith Dialogue: the Religious Feminism Podcast by April Young Bennett

Best Book/Article/Movie Review:  A second atonement: Mother’s Milk and healing a theological crack in Mormonism’s heart by guest Elizabeth Pinborough (This review covers the book, Mother’s Milk, by Exponent blogger Rachel Hunt Steenblik.)

Best Spiritual Post: Finding God Again, and Again… by Emily U

Best Current Events Post: The Errand of Angels: A Response to Sister Dalton’s YSA Address by Becca

Best Personal Post: Don’t Tell Me I Don’t Understand the Priesthood by Em

Best Mormon Facebook Community or Discussion Forum: Exponent II Facebook Group (for the second consecutive year!)

 

See the complete list of winners here.

Guest Post: Bishops Need To Be Better; But So Do We

[image error]by Lesley Ann

Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, you do better.”

I sat in front of my bishop, sobbing after sharing my secret. Cautiously, I poured out details of daily verbal assault, physical intimidation, financial control, and sexual endangerment by my spouse. I felt relieved, but it did not last. My bishop was someone I trusted and needed. He looked at me and said, “I don’t believe you.” The traumatizing blow that words can bring became unforgettably clear to me in that moment. My worst nightmare was unfolding in slow motion. The realization hit me like a wave of nausea coupled with a heart-stopping moment of shock: the implications of his opinion will escalate these things. I needed to be prepared for that when I got home. What about my children? Will they have to continue to see this? How can I get help? If my bishop doesn’t believe me, who will? He was someone I counted on to be God’s hands on Earth. A judge in Israel. A representative of Christ. And he said to me, “I don’t believe you.”

On the heels of the Rob Porter scandal that has sparked the ever unfolding #MormonMeToo movement; we must rise to the call. We must believe, comfort, aide, and assist survivors of domestic violence and those in situations of abuse. We have been made aware that many of our own ecclesiastical leaders routinely re-victimize victims, minimize harmful behaviors, rationalize power and control imbalances, and even justify abuse. We must see that something is wrong. All too often, we ask “Why would a bishop say that?” and “Why would he hit his wife?” Instead, we need to ask “What can we do to help the victim?” and “How can I be a safe person for a survivor?”

We must start to educate ourselves. Each and every one of us needs to be informed. Did you know there are several types of abuse? Abuse can include: physical, verbal, financial, psychological, cultural, emotional, mental, spiritual, relational, sexual, and economic. Do you know what defines each of these types of abuse? Did you know that many abusers can be charming, successful, well-respected, and highly regarded? This is the paradigm that enables to the abuse to continue in private. Did you know that abuse often starts off small, and then escalates over time? This is how women become virtually unaware they are in an abusive relationship. Did you know the cycle abuse consists of tension building, abusive explosion, and remorse/forgiveness? This is what keeps women in abusive relationships.

If we had just ONE lesson on abuse in our repertoire of temple marriage, chastity, modesty, following the prophets, and supporting our husbands’ priesthood authority, the difference we could make. The conversation would begin. The shame would cease. With just one lesson, we could inform ourselves and others. We could establish healthier patterns. We could discourage enabling and concealment of abuse. We could help even one. With just ONE.

I knew things would escalate. And they did.

I hold my bishop very accountable for NOT holding my ex-husband accountable.

And….

For telling me I was not being honest.

For telling me to go home and be a better wife.

For telling me it is normal to be called horrific names by my husband.

For telling me that I was the problem.

For telling me my feelings of fear were not real.

For telling me I was too controlling.

For telling me that I was just trying to get my husband in trouble.

For telling me that I must have done something to deserve this.

For telling me to stop being selfish for having aspirations to further my education.

For telling me I was failing in my job as a mother.

For telling me I needed to focus on my husband.

For telling me this behavior is normal in marriages.

For telling me everyone loves my husband.

For telling me that I just needed to get over it.

For telling me to stop making my husband mad.

For telling me that I just needed to trust my husband after he’s had multiple affairs.

For telling me that no one believes me and no one would believe me.

For telling me that I needed to be better.

I didn’t believe any of the things he said. Except one. The last one. I needed to be better. Yes, I believed that. And that is just what I did. I became informed, empowered, and honored my truth. I learned everything I could about abuse, power, and control. I left my husband who still denies everything. I weep with other survivors daily. I embrace my bravery and courage every single day. I look at my journey with humility and awe. I did this. I revived myself: from a shell of a person who lived in a constant state of fog to a vibrant, beautiful woman of grace and dignity. A woman who has a story to share. A woman who became better.

Yes, I became better.

We must all become better.

Community Support: Kindergarten-style

[image error]One summer day when I was 38 weeks pregnant, I went outside to turn on the sprinklers. I reached down to flip on the pump, feeling for the switch. With my view obscured by my giant belly, I didn’t see that a panel had blown off the night before and exposed the wiring.

As soon as I recovered from the electric shock, I grasped my belly. I felt nothing. My son was born later that day after an emergency induction. And thankfully, he was okay. At least, he seemed okay.

That was about five years ago. Since then, I have often wondered if I actually did harm him. I wondered when he became old enough to start talking, but didn’t, and when he didn’t potty train, and when he didn’t reach so many of his other developmental milestones. At age three, he was declared developmentally delayed and qualified for half-day preschool instruction through the school district, which we supplemented with another half-day at a private preschool. As he grew closer to Kindergarten age, my husband, a professional speech therapist, left his job to work from home where he could have more time to act as our son’s personal trainer. The summer before our son began Kindergarten, we sent him to summer school at the same school where he would attend Kindergarten, instructed by the teacher who would be teaching his Kindergarten class. When Kindergarten began, she assigned him to the exact same chair and coat hook that he had during the summer, to ease his transition.

In spite of all of our preparation, Kindergarten got off to a rocky start. My usually sweet-tempered child manifested his academic frustration with frequent temper tantrums in the classroom. I felt guilty about the way he was disrupting the Kindergarten experience for all the other kids and nervous that they would shun him. He certainly wasn’t being likeable.

A few weeks into the school year, the teacher asked if we had any ideas for a reward system. Was there anything that had worked at home? We started sending her a supply of Kit Kats. A friend with a special needs child had recommended Kit Kats to us previously when we were struggling with potty training; that particular candy seemed to have unique, magical motivational powers. But I wondered how the teacher would sneak Kit Kats to my son without the other students noticing and getting angry because my kid was getting bribed just for behaving as well as they were expected to as a matter of course.

His Kindergarten class has an elaborate color-coded behavior grading system. Good behavior is noted with a blue dot on a daily log that comes home in his backpack. A few weeks into the start of Kindergarten, I had seen a rainbow of colors—very seldom blue—and way too many notes from the teacher.

One day, I came home from work and found my son waiting for me at the door.

“I on black!” he cried, the moment he saw me. “I scream at friends! I not clip down!”

He seemed aghast. Over the past few weeks, it had become apparent that he couldn’t control himself like other Kindergarteners, but this was the first time I realized how much he wanted to.

“I sorry!” he continued. “Tomorrow I be on blue!”

He jumped into my arms and hugged me, apparently relieved to have gotten that off his chest.

Shortly after that, my husband and I called a meeting with our son’s teacher. We were hoping we could arrange to get an aid assigned to him, someone who could take him aside when needed and prevent him from disrupting the class and alienating himself from the other kids.

I didn’t expect what she said. Instead of sneaking the Kit Kats to my child, the teacher had been announcing his winnings with big fanfare every time he earned one, so that all of his classmates could cheer for him. Parents were asking her about my son, not because they were upset about his disruptions, but because their kids kept telling them about how excited they were whenever he won a reward.

A classmate who was accustomed to mentoring younger siblings had been assigned by the teacher to be my son’s buddy, and she described how this more mature five-year-old would gently remind him to stay on task. The other kids knew he was struggling and they also wanted to help.

“I wouldn’t say that he is a project for them, but more of a friend. Everyone wants to be his friend,” the teacher told us.

A few days later, my husband arrived at school early for pick-up and saw my son at recess. He came out late and put his nose to the wall, pouting because he had just finished a time-out for one of his temper tantrums.

A little girl noticed him and called his name. “Come play with us!” she said. He turned toward her, smiled, and joined his classmates on the playground.

Today, more often than not, my child proudly tells me, “I on blue! I get Kitty Kat!” Now that the tantrums have mostly ceased, he is starting to learn, albeit at his own, slower pace.

He is a friend to everyone.

Christian Women’s Prayerful Touch

A year or so ago, I was preparing for surgery on my hands. In the two years before this, I had three other hand surgeries, and all went well. But this was the big one—surgery on a finger that I had broken as a teen. This was mixed with severe tendinitis, and typical complications that come with middle age, over-usage (I love crocheting, sewing, cooking and typing) and lifelong diabetes. I was anxious. And not as confident as I would have liked.

 

At the time, I was going to a Christian Women’s Bible study in the small town where I lived. I was going because I loved the Christian community of women, and besides, there were no other Mormons in town. It was a remote community and our branch was 3 hour drive each way away.  I grew to love the Christian Women’s bible group and looked forward to the meetings with all of my heart.

 

At the end of each meeting, we discussed the needs of the women in the Christian community. Meals were assigned for new mothers and women who were sick, and we prayed for those dealing with cancer, illness, miscarriage, unemployment, death or other issues in their families. We prayed for each other, and shared our fears with each other so we could pray for ourselves as well.

 

It was few days before I was leaving for my surgery, and everyone knew I was having yet another hand surgery. “No crocheting for you!” they would joke—“Oh, and no phone!” and we would laugh, recognising all the little limitations that come with something as small as microscopic tendon surgery.

 

“Would you like us to offer a special prayer for you?” Asked the female Pastor, who I will call Glynis, and who I had grown to love. Her only uniform was her “Sunday best dress,” which was modest and humble, no robes, no hats or scarves. You’d never know that she was lay clergy based on her appearance- it was appeared more financially modest than the dresses on many Mormon women I know.  In my Mormon heart, I didn’t feel comfortable going to the non-denominational church on Sundays in lieu of home church. And yet, I felt a little ashamed of this—because the non-denominational Christian women’s bible study fed my soul so very much during the week and gave me inspiration to stay connected with God.

 

“Yes,” I said, anxiously. “I’m nervous about this surgery. I don’t know why. But this one feels…scarier.” I went on to explain that I had broken this finger as a teen, and had more issues with this hand than with the others. I explained that it was my second local anesthetic—which I liked because I had a much quicker recovery. But I was still nervous.

 

“Would you like us to lay hands on you?” Pastor Glynis asked.

 

I did not know what this meant, but after a lifetime in the Mormon church, I presumed maybe they would put their hands on my head—or kind of close to it. Or something. I wasn’t really worried.

 

“Yes.”

 

So the Christian women gathered around me. Then they lightly touched my shoulders, hands, and arms.[image error] Unlike the men’s hands on my head in Mormondom, these women became the blanket of warmth that Mormon women have described as the Holy Ghost. I was filled with the spirit. It was intense and spiritual in a way I had not experienced before.

 

There were no politics of who had authority, or were righteous enough to be in the circle. There was no discrimination—all in the room participated, and in this case, we were all women. Heads were bowed, and Pastor Glynis offered a prayer. She invoked no priesthood, claiming no right or title or power. She prayed, thanking God. Blessing every cell in my body. Blessing my spirit. Blessing that the healing would be fast and complete. Praying that my hands and body would work as they ought. The chorus of Amen was peaceful, humble, and filled with love.

 

I wept, feeling the Holy Spirit surround me through these good, righteous, Christian women.

 

And my surgery was fine. Wherever the odd moment of nervousness crept in, I remembered that prayer, and was comforted and strengthened. The same feeling of the spirit also joined me over the next few months as I recovered and did the exercises to get full mobility back in my digits.

 

We’ve since moved, and now live in a town with a ward that is walking distance from my house. So I now sit at Mormon Church, feeling a sterile kind of rote worship where no one ventures to colour outside of the lines, no one has witness to a different line a thought, and where the hands of men are officially the only vessels to bring the spirit of healing. In this, I’ve been unable to comprehend why Mormon women can’t/won’t/don’t “lay on hands” in a prayer for healing. Why Mormon women can’t be pastors. Why –in the recent Ward Conference—the Relief Society president offered the closing prayer to the men’s talks as her token symbol of female participation.

 

Mostly, I have yet to feel the spirit in the same way that I felt in the Christian Women’s Bible study group, and I miss it, dearly.  (I add that I have had a blessing from a Mormon woman via email once that invoked a very powerful spirit, possibly even more powerful that the bible study prayer– but it was yet “unofficial”. I will write about that another time.)

Book Review: The Infinite Future

Published by Penguin Random House, 2018.

Tim Wirkus’s book The Infinite Future, a novel is set in Utah, Brazil, Idaho, and outer space, may be the truest thing you read about Mormonism in 2018. At first, the book appears to be about three companions brought together by their obsession with a forgotten Brazilian science fiction author, Eduard Salgado-MacKenzie. Danny, the most prominent narrator, is a recent BYU graduate with no prospects and a bad case of writer’s block. In his efforts to find his way out of Provo (and his post-graduation slump) he finds himself in the unlikely company of Sergio, a Brazilian sub-librarian in São Paulo, and Harriet, an excommunicated Mormon scholar. Inspired by their love of Salgado-MacKenzie’s work, the three set off to uncover the truth about the mysterious author’s identity, and to discover whether his unpublished masterpiece—The Infinite Future—actually exists. The second part of the book is the unpublished manuscript itself, a sci-fi tale set in a distant future in a remote location in the outer reaches of space.

As with his first book, City of Brick and Shadow, The Infinite Future poses an irresistible mystery right from the start. Who is Salgado-MacKenzie? Why did he stop writing? What inspiration lies at the heart of his creative work? Can Salgado-MacKenzie’s alleged masterpiece (titled The Infinite Future in the story) improve upon his less-aspirational sci-fi stories? In The Infinite Future, as with his first book, Wirkus ultimately settles on a thesis about such questions. That is, the discovery of truth is often secondary to the search itself. In fact, the payoff of resolution hardly seems to matter when the reader becomes entangled with the book’s many questions.

If you’re like me, you’ll enjoy the neat comparison that arises between fiction (in this case, pulpy science fiction) and religion, an exercise that begs the question of whether something needs to be factually true for it to create meaning in our lives. The book also contends with existential imaginings of the afterlife. Indeed, this seems to be a major theme in The Infinite Future as well: is the prospect of eternal life (especially the Mormon version) more beautiful or terrifying for those of us still living?

Scattered throughout the book are some true narrative gems, particularly for Mormon feminists, many of whom will see themselves represented in Harriet, the excommunicated Mormon scholar. Wirkus’s description of her excommunication is equal parts heartbreaking and spot-on. As I read the story of her interactions with priesthood leadership, I saw myself sitting in my bishop’s office, listening to the same well-meaning lectures on intellectualism, feminism, and my own apparent lack of faith. These scenes will resonate with anyone who’s been bullied by their church leaders for speaking or writing openly about the church’s less-than-glossy history.

To me, it also felt important to see this story told from a woman’s perspective. This narrative choice will not be lost on Mormon women, many of whom find ourselves under deeper scrutiny than our priesthood-bearing counterparts. One case in point is Adam Miller’s recent BYU address. This is not to speak disparagingly of Miller’s message, indeed his words were well-chosen and deeply needed in our community. But it does reflect the disparity between how progressive-leaning men and women are treated in the church. While Miller was lauded as a trailblazer, women who have expressed similar views have been treated with contempt for decades. Wirkus’s account of Harriet’s excommunication will feel vindicating for many women who have found themselves on the wrong side of the bishop’s desk.

Another charming aspect of the novel is how often the book gives its microphone over to its many female characters. The chief protagonist in the fictional Salgado-MacKenzie’s work is a starship captain named Irena Sertôrian, a woman whose space-time exploits catapult her into legendary status. Her appearance in The Infinite Future, and the layered examination of her identity, motives, and character, give her a level of depth typically reserved only for complicated male characters. It was refreshing to see women included in the fictional religious canon of The Infinite Future, particularly as our actual canon is so lacking in female representation.

In truth, all the female characters in The Infinite Future are written well, even the minor ones. Wirkus includes multidimensional depictions in his writing as a matter of fact. The Infinite Future depicts a world where normal women exist, not as cheesed-out stereotypes of Strong Female Leads, but as actual people.

In the end, readers will relish in the chance to dance around sticky philosophical questions raised by The Infinite Future, and both men and women will enjoy seeing relatable representations of themselves on the page. Anyone who’s interested in untangling literary puzzles will have plenty to chew on, though these additions will not distract readers who just show up for the plot. The Infinite Future is richly layered, funny, and mind bending in its own right. Though the narrative structure of the book is somewhat unconventional, keen readers will appreciate its depth and craftsmanship, as well as its engrossing storyline. If you read one work of fiction this month, make it The Infinite Future.

Available in hardcover, ebook, and audio (the voice acting is phenomenal, so listen to it if you can).

Mormon Women Weigh in on the Controversial Australian “Safe Schools” Program

[image error]In order to expand anti-bullying practice, and in order to teach empathy and inclusion, with the bi-product of reducing suicide and suicidal thoughts for students who are LGBTI (or any family that might not fit a “traditional” definition), the Australian government funded Safe Schools Coalition Australia (SSCA). This Coalition developed the Student Wellbeing Hub for Australian Schools.

 

Specific to non-traditional families and LGBTI students, a portion of this new education platform included what is commonly called the “Safe Schools” program,  now titled “All of Us.” This educational platform is widely available to all (unlike other classroom curriculum that teachers develop yet “hide” from the public such as—grammar, algebra and biological mitosis) to see the meticulously created curriculum and study guides as developed by highly trained health, medical, psychological, and educational professionals.

 

A vocal Mormon woman declared the program as containing propaganda which would convince many students to explore homosexual relationships, and to label these homosexual relationship as superior to heterosexual relationships. She based this on claims that her son in Year/Grade 7 or 8 was exposed to much more information on vaginas than what she thought it was appropriate for him to learn (ever? at that age? I’m not sure). Her thinking was very much in line with the Australian Christian Lobby which is adamantly opposed to most types of sex education, but mixed with a twist of “The Family Proclamation” to help inspire the LDS community to don their white hoods and robes and join her in lynching the “Safe schools” programs. (Or at least this is what her marketing strategy sounded like to me).   This vocal Mormon woman gained a following of Mormons (maybe others?), including some fellow Mormon women—who have also vocally opposed the All of Us program (and, in my experience in asking, none of whom have actually read the “All of Us”/ Safe schools website- most by claiming it isn’t available for public consumption.)

 

Thankfully, another Mormon woman weighed in with an unselfish post that reflects a balanced response of the All of Us program—and she actually read the entire All of Us website, and watched it’s adjoining videos. Her thoughtful response it here: Safe Schools is Safe. (In case you were wondering, I really like her post!)

 

And in the end, please take a look at the All of Us program. It really is a sensitive step in helping all students to feel safe in their own skin, and safe at school.

Book Review: Whom Say Ye That I Am?

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Whom Say Ye that I Am? Lessons form the Jesus of Nazareth
By James McConkie and Judith McConkie
Published by Greg Kofford Books

There are a lot of books out there about Jesus.  Why might you be interested in this one? I’ll tell you briefly.

This book puts Jesus’ teachings in context of the Jewish and Roman religion, politics, and culture of his time.  That’s certainly been done before.  But what I think is particularly valuable about this book for an LDS audience is its sources.  Unlike a lot of LDS literature that takes its Latter-day scripture and church authorities as primary sources, this book quotes very few LDS sources.  Instead, it’s a meta-analysis of contemporary scholarship on Jesus, using almost a dozen different Bible translations, the apocrypha, and many well-respected writers and scholars, some I’d read or heard from (John Dominic Crosson, James Martin, Harold Kushner, Eugene Peterson), and many I had not. The McConkies draw on scholarship that is often underutilized in LDS writing to bring a fresh perspective on many aspects of Jesus’ life and teaching.

The book is organized in three sections: I, Jesus and Individuals, II, Jesus and Institutions, III, Concluding Thoughts. Section I includes chapters on women, marriage, the poor, the wealthy, the sick, the lost, the outcast, the enemy.  It presents these topics in ways that will probably kindle some discomfort in many readers, for example the existence of female apostles and Jesus’ expansive idea of family, which doesn’t sit easily beside the contemporary LDS preoccupation with the nuclear family.  However the book stops short of explicit critique of anything, and gives no suggestions for change.  There is very little interpretation or exegesis by the authors, which is either a strength or a weakness, depending on what you hope to get out of the book.

There are a great many interesting facts presented that add depth and meaning to the stories of Jesus. For instance the woman with the lost coin in Luke 15 may have been looking for a special coin, a drachma, which was given to a Jewish girl and worn as an ornament after her marriage, giving the coin as much or more sentimental value as economic value.  I especially appreciated the explanation of shepherds in Jesus’ time.  They were unclean because “as a practical matter they could not observe long hours of prayer or follow the rituals of hand washings before eating or the purity law for handling blood of injured animals. They were by definition unclean. Their lives spent in fields tending sheep made such religious demands impossible.” To me, this awareness adds another layer of meaning to the fact that Jesus called himself the Good Shepherd (John 10:11). The explanations of the extreme differences in power and privilege between the upper and lower strata of Roman and Jewish society were also striking.

I found myself less interested in the section on Institutions than the section on Individuals, which surprised me because I’m very interested in critiques of institutions in my own life.  And the final two chapters, a discussion of discipleship using salt as a metaphor for full commitment, and a speculative essay by a relative of the McConkies titled “In Search of the Personality of Jesus” felt like an unsatisfying end to me.  I wanted more synthesis and analysis of the book as a whole for a conclusion.  However, I learned a lot from reading this book.  I feel I know Jesus better after having read it, and if I’m still teaching Gospel Doctrine in my ward when we study the New Testament next year, I will definitely use it as a resource.

Rocks, Light, and the Calling of a Prophet

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“Twenty-one Pebbles” courtesy of Metropolitan Museum of Art

One of my favorite stories from the Book of Mormon is when the brother of Jared asks God for light in the ships that the Jaredites use to cross the ocean. The brother of Jared is a righteous man and has been obedient, but his request for light (a need directly created by the style of boat that God directed to be made) is turned back on him. God basically responds, “Yeah, you’ve got a real problem there. What do you think you should do?” Instead of just giving an answer, God lets the brother of Jared work it out and gives divine blessing to the solution the brother of Jared finds.

I’ve been thinking about this story over the past couple of weeks as I’ve pondered the calling of a new prophet. The Mormon process seems to be both magical and bureaucratic: God chooses the new prophet, but it also happens to always be the man who has been an apostle the longest. Claiming both of things creates some theologically difficult questions: Does God kill off people to get his chosen man in place? When did something so mystical become so procedural? Is bureaucracy God’s real method of moving through our world?

I’ve been diving in deep with these questions, trying to see the divine that lies underneath the traditional answer. What emerges? My answer, for now, is that I think God doesn’t really care who becomes prophet, as long as it’s someone who is earnestly trying to serve. Our own Bible Dictionary tells us that “a prophet is anyone who has a testimony of Jesus Christ by the Holy Ghost,” a remarkably democratic definition of a spiritual leader. The story of the brother of Jared teaches us that sometimes God lets us work out our own answer and then simply accepts whatever we come up with. I suspect that as humans struggled to find an answer for how to choose a new prophet, they came up with a bureaucratic system that is simple and clear in a moment when the people need simpleness and clarity and God said, “Okay, that works for me if it works for you.” I think it could have been different. There could have been another right answer. We could have ended up with someone else.

This doesn’t mean, by any means, that it’s not divine. In fact, for me, it makes me more grateful than ever for a God who bestows grace on broken, flawed humans. Because the idea that God would accept our offering of a prophet, would be willing to receive a human answer to a question and give divine blessing on it, that idea is powerful. That’s where I see an expansive, loving, intelligent being emerge from our human structures. God touches that bit of bureaucracy and makes it give light, allowing us comfort and help as we make our voyage.

We see through the glass darkly. In our search for God, we create rules and policies and procedures. Sometimes, as we fumble around, God smiles upon us and accepts our offering. When that happens, we assume that it came directly from God and that the system or policy is in itself divine. With just a few omissions to the story, the brother of Jared’s rocks could look very different: without the knowledge that God sends the brother of Jared away the first time to figure out the answer himself, the use of rocks could look like God just clearly and directly choosing The One Single Right Way to Light the Ships. I love that we know differently. We know that the miracle isn’t that God spelled out exactly how to do it, but that God takes Jared’s simple rocks and makes them holy. It’s an act of love to so graciously accept a flawed gift. And sometimes, in that moment of God turning stones into light, we see the finger of the divine.

Prayers We Have Loved

A couple months ago, Judy, a longtime friend of Exponent II, sent me an email about a prayer she had heard in a yoga class that she loved. I thought this was a terrific idea for a compilation post — prayers that members of Exponent II have heard and loved over the years. What prayers have you loved? Please feel to share in the comments.

Judy:

I have been a subscriber to Exponent II since it began. I lived in Boston at the time and was in the ward with all the ladies that started it. I became a feminist at that time and have been one since and shared it with others in all my church callings over the years. In the mid 80s I took a yoga and meditation class with a guy who was an active Protestant Christian, and he always had us start with this prayer that so impressed me that I memorized it and have used it ever since. Here is the prayer:

Father, Mother, Brother, Friend, I come before Thee that my spirit might commune with Thee. Help me to know that I am Thy Loving child and remember always that Thou and I are one. Aom, Peace, Amen.

Melody:

I wrote this as a poem and ended up using it as an actual prayer. It’s become my favorite prayer.

Prayer of Thanksgiving

Dear God — Mother, Father, Son,

May this prayer of love and gratitude fly swiftly to your ears.

May my every want be transformed into celebration of the thing wanted

even if I do not obtain that thing. May I feel abundance in the smallest gifts

of this earth — food, shelter, sunlight, companionship. May I see Your Image

in every human face and so offer thanks for your presence in the world.

Thank you for transforming water into wine and hearts of stone into flesh.

Thank you for making me a women whose fleshy heart broke willingly three

times with the birth of my children. Thank you for daily calling us toward you.

Help us listen better and follow better. Thank you, God, for this “one wild and

precious life.” And for the poetry of each new day.

Em:

My dad (nonmember) always prayed the same thing over dinner:

Bless O Lord this food to our use

And us to thy self and service

Amen

I misheard it routinely through childhood (what is a food tooaroo? Snethtothy self and service?) but as an adult I like it. LDS people regularly pray for our food, but our food prayers don’t consecrate us to God and to service. I like the idea of doing that at meals.

Caroline:

I found this prayer by Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel profoundly moving.

I no longer ask You for either happiness or paradise; all I ask of You is to listen and let me be aware and worthy of Your listening. I no longer ask You to resolve my questions, only to receive them and make them part of You. I no longer ask You for either rest or wisdom, I only ask You not to close me to gratitude, be it of the most trivial kind, or to surprise and friendship. Love? Love is not Yours to give.

As for my enemies, I do not ask You to punish them or even to enlighten them; I only ask You not to lend them Your mask and Your powers. If You must relinquish one or the other, give them Your powers, but not Your countenance.

They are modest, my prayers, and humble. I ask You what I might ask a stranger met by chance at twilight in a barren land. I ask You, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to enable me to pronounce these words without betraying the child that transmitted them to me. God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, enable me to forgive You and enable the child I once was to forgive me too. I no longer ask You for the life of that child, nor even for his faith. I only implore You to listen to him and act in such a way that You and I can listen to him together.

 

Nancy Ross:

This is a blessing I wrote for my pastor’s ordination to elder. I’ve adapted it here.

Prayer for Those in the Desert

Long ago,

Church mothers and fathers

Were called to the desert.

They clashed with demons

Wandered the wilderness

Found themselves and their God

Within this sacred and uneasy place.We have been called to the desert,

A religious frontier,

With the demons (and the Mormons)

To wrestle with faith,

Accept our lack of belief

And grow a community

In the borderlands.We have come into

Each other’s lives

At a strange time of tumult,

Fear, and transformation.

Together we collaborate on

The old work of

Loving our neighbors

In this place remembered for its

Violence

Separation

Slavery

Unworking the harm wrought

In this wild and scorching place.

May we never fear

The heat of the desert.

Amen.

Jess R:

I love the Anglican prayer book (found here: https://www.bcponline.org/)

This is one of my favorites:

Let us pray.

Almighty God, we give you thanks for surrounding us, as

daylight fades, with the brightness of the vesper light; and we

implore you of your great mercy that, as you enfold us with

the radiance of this light, so you would shine into our hearts

the brightness of your Holy Spirit; through Jesus Christ our

Lord. Amen.

Grant us, Lord, the lamp of charity which never fails, that it

may burn in us and shed its light on those around us, and

that by its brightness we may have a vision of that holy City,

where dwells the true and never-failing Light, Jesus Christ

our Lord. Amen.

O Lord God Almighty, as you have taught us to call the

evening, the morning, and the noonday one day; and have

made the sun to know its going down: Dispel the darkness of

our hearts, that by your brightness we may know you to be

the true God and eternal light, living and reigning for ever

and ever. Amen.

Ellen:

This is the prayer we end with in my kundalini yoga class:

May the Long Time Sun

Shine upon you

All love surround you

And the pure light

Within you

Guide your way on

Guide your way on

We do it 3 times, once for yourself, once for your loved ones and pets, and once to the world. Its a wonderful and peaceful way to end the class.

Dora:

I love the idea of the greeting “Namaste.” Before going to Nepal, I’d only ever encountered the word at the end of yoga classes. In Nepal, it’s used as a rote, quotidian greeting. But I love the idea behind it. “The divine in me greets the divine in you.” A reminder that we are more than our mortal clothes of clay.

Spunky: 

I love prayers of thanksgiving — this one is from the Auckland Museum.

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