Exponent II's Blog, page 277

Dumb Luck and the Word of Wisdom

“Does anyone know if you can breast feed whilst taking ace inhibitors?”

 

The question pop up in my facebook newsfeed from a diabetes support group. I’ve been diabetic for decades, and am generally bored with the “latest and greatest” diabetes-related updates which typically mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. I’ve heard most of it before, so tend to avoid diabetes groups—especially on facebook.

 

But I had recently moved, and the facebook support group was recommended as a way in which to get recommendations for local doctors.  Shortly after I joined, I did have a recommendation for a doctor—who was not accepting new patients. But that referral led to another, and I soon had a doctor who I liked well enough. Almost as quickly as I had joined, I forgot about the group and moved on.

 

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But then that post popped up in my feed. As a feminist, I feel strongly about women having the choice to breast feed. As a diabetic, I am frightened of the day when I might need an ace inhibitor as it would signify that I was suffering from diabetic neuropathy, also known as kidney damage. So I read on.

 

“Does anyone know if you can breast feed whist taking ace inhibitors? My doctor said there is limited research on the effect of ace inhibitors on breast milk and I really want to breastfeed my daughter for as long as I am alive. My kidney are failing, so it won’t be long.”

 

I had no answers, but I sat stunned, tears forming in my eyes.

 

I spoke to my husband about it that evening. “A doctor I had like twenty years ago said that some people’s bodies manage diabetes pretty well, but other people have real problems. At the time, he was implying that I was one of the lucky people with a body that seemed to handle diabetes.”

 

It has been a difficult few months for my husband and me, for reasons I won’t discuss in detail here. Thus, I had been concerned about ongoing medical care in-between a number of other uncertainties, including temporary unemployment. One of our first goals when we found our footing was to get the proper medical support for me. Finding it, I began to feel better—mostly due to relief, but also due to a new medication that I didn’t know I needed. To be clear, I wasn’t unwell. But I knew I could do better.

 

[image error]“It’s not just luck,” my husband said. He is a convert to the church, joining after we married. He joined the church as a result of personal testimony and from reading the Book of Mormon. He also joined knowing of the inequality between Mormon men and women, and has striven to always have me be included. It really was the best of both worlds for me—I don’t generally do well with Mormon men grounded in patriarchal pride, but had a testimony of the Plan of Salvation. In him, I had the best of both of my worlds- Mormon and feminism.

 

“You’ve never consumed alcohol the way most people do,” he said, reminding me of friend who had non-diabetes related kidney damaged due to excess drink. “You’ve never smoked,” he said reminding me of my own convert father who died from lung cancer long after he had quit smoking. “And you get up and walk every day,” he reminded me, even though I often felt like a brisk walk wasn’t really as much as I could be doing for exercise.

 

So maybe this post isn’t so much about feminism. Or women. But it is about the word of wisdom and how I am personally blessed by it.

 

To be clear, I never met a Christmas pudding that couldn’t be improved by my adding Orange Liquor with at least 40% Alc. And I know which wines match meats on a general level for when we dine with non-Mormon friends. I never met a caffeinated beverage I didn’t like (and I a mourning the end of Coke Zero as much as I crave Saccharine-sweetened Tab cola). And lest I be judgmental, I especially don’t know if the diabetic woman who asked about breast feeding ever had a drink in her life, smoked or otherwise. Even if she did, I wept for her and her baby, and prayed that she might be able to raise her child.

 

Mostly, I was humbled. Because I knew that my body is probably not very able to “handle” diabetes well. But rather, because I am lucky enough to have been raised as a Mormon, I learned to say no to alcohol and cigarettes long before I learned of how hard those things could be on my mortal, diabetic body. In this, I have the best of all of my worlds– diabetes, feminism and Mormonism.

 

And for that, I am grateful to God.

Shoulder to the Wheel Action Announcement

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From http://shouldertothewheel.org/

The Mormon anti-racist organization Shoulder to the Wheel is gathering tomorrow morning to participate in the BYU Homecoming Parade. They are meeting at 8:45 AM tomorrow morning (Oct 7) at the Marriott Center Parking Lot inProvo Utah. Their Facebook event page says

BYU Faculty, Students, and Alum (and their friends and family) are invited to participate in the Shoulder to the Wheel Entry in the BYU Homecoming Parade.

In celebration of the upcoming 40th Anniversary of the LDS Church’s Official Declaration 2, ending racial restrictions on temple and priesthood blessings, we pledge to work toward ending racism and white supremacy. We will carry signs that draw attention to the statements of church leaders and scriptures that outline Divine teachings. Some signs invite bystanders to learn more about the Church’s resources on race, while others highlight the lives and voices of Black Pioneers. We will have some extra signs and a banner that students have already made, but feel free to bring your own (nothing political or critical). We will also pass out leaflets that include pledge points and the Shoulder to the Wheel website address so spectators can learn more and take the pledge themselves.

T-shirts with the STW image (courtesy of Ben Crowder) on the front, and “Shoulder to the Wheel” on the back, will also be available ($5 donation requested–cash or Venmo). If you don’t already have a shirt, indicating your requested size will help us with parade-day preparations. We may or may not have a handcart to pull, but we will definitely have handouts for participants to share along the parade route, and lots of spirit!

Please consider participating if you are local. Building Zion is hard work and one way we can contribute to that is to show up for people of color and anti-racism efforts in the church.

Accommodating the Natural Man

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“Power” by Ricardo Bernardo, unaltered, used according to the Creative Commons (CC BY-ND 2.0) License. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/...

I recently listened to the interview of Amiee Flynn-Curran on Gina Colvin’s podcast, A Thoughtful Faith. I know Amiee because the ward she studied is my own. I was curious about her takeaways as a non-Mormon, immersed in our “liberal” ward for a year.

My ward, as “liberal” as it is, is still very Mormon and a person passing through on a random Sunday probably doesn’t notice that it’s any different than other wards. We’re still super Mormon. Can’t help that.

So it wasn’t a surprise to hear that a lot of Mormon myths still abound. For example, Amiee mentioned women in the ward believing that men have the priesthood because they need it as motivation to participate in Church and women don’t need this because they tend more towards spiritual things. This is not a surprise to me.

But as I listened to the confirmation that there are, or at least were at the time of this research, women in my ward who feel this way, I felt immensely defeated. I’m one of those people who, at this point in time at least, needs motivation to go to church. Multiple times this summer I snuck up to church just for the second hour to do my primary pianist calling and then came immediately home. I don’t want to be at church right now and having to be there for my calling right now is the only thing keeping me at the moment. It’s hard that my calling is every week and there are no breaks like when I taught YW and had some “off” weeks when I wasn’t teaching to recharge. I mostly go, do my thing, leave. Without this, I’d not bother.

So when I hear that people I know truly believe that men need the priesthood because they need an incentive to go to church I hear two things:

They believe women who need an incentive to be at church are somehow deficient in their womanhood.
They believe God or the Church cares enough about men to extend extra power from on high to keep them in the church and doesn’t extend the same concern to women’s presence.

Regarding the first, it sucks to go to church and know that in Relief Society there are women who, if they knew I’m not in a “naturally spiritual” place at the moment, would think there is something wrong with me and look down on me for needing something more, for being “power hungry”. This past summer I did find myself in Relief Society one Sunday instead of playing Pokemon Go and one of the women made a sweeping comment about  how “we’re all here today in Relief Society because…” and I glared at my knitting in my hands wishing people wouldn’t presume why I’m there that day or any day and that I’d rather not be there right now. I’m one of those designing women who is only there because she’s needed for half an hour.

Regarding the second, I feel deserted on a new level. If we take that statement seriously, either God or the people running the Church, or both, feel like men are important enough to the Church that they’ve set up ways to keep them in. The natural man may be an enemy to God, but we’ll accommodate and assist him while ignoring that women have the same needs and desires. It feels like someone has said, “Ok men, we know you need extra help and we value you and want to keep you around, so here it is: you’ll be extended the power and authority of God. And women? Well, they’re fine; no need to give them handouts.”

I’m not saying that I want the priesthood or else I won’t go to church anymore, however, I do need to feel needed. It’s not wrong or status-seeking to want fulfillment. I think everyone has that need on some level. One way to fill that need to is to have positions available to everyone and extending the priesthood to all.

We need to kill this myth of the innately spiritual woman because it is causing women to leave because the Church currently doesn’t have a place for any other kind of woman.

Las Vegas, General Conference, Sex and Murder

Why do Mormons have such an anti-porn thing going on, but no one ever talks anti-guns in general conference?

 

Because I am kind of tired of people telling me to avoid porn at all costs, that our bodies are temples, and that sex is something sacred and reserved. Comparatively, gun ownership is overlooked as something sporty, and presumed to be used rarely (for the Harvest Holiday, I presume?) but it is not reserved, it is not for the sacred purpose of feeding you family. It’s just plain A-okay. 

 

For example:

October 2017 General Conference Anti-Porn statement:

“I promise that as you daily immerse yourself in the Book of Mormon, you can be immunized against the evils of the day, including even the gripping plague of pornography and other mind-numbing addictions.” -Russell M. Nelson, “The Book of Mormon: What Would Your Life Be Like without It?” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2017, 62–63. Quoted by Neil L. Andersen in The Voice of the Lord, October 2017 General Conference. https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2017/10/the-voice-of-the-lord?lang=eng

 

October 2017 General Conference Anti-Gun statement:

(void)

 

October 2017 General Conference Anti-Murder/anti-shedding of blood statement:

(void)

 

 

To be clear, I am no fan of porn. I’d prefer pornography to end. But I also prefer the sale of guns to private citizen to end, too.

 

Because I view gun ownership to be just as, if not more wicked than pornography. I recall as a child going to a friend’s house and playing with her in the attic that we easily unlocked because she knew where her parents hid the key. It was there that we discovered her father’s collection of playboy magazines. And her mother, regularly checking on us, discovered us – luckily before we saw anything bad. She chided us for getting into things that are “only for daddies.” But like old playboys, guns are locked away in closets and attics “only for dad.” And a handful of years later, I learned that one of the boys I walked to school with in the morning had died. From suicide. He knew where the key to the gun closet in his house was. And I went to his funeral. And I saw his mother, sobbing, being dragged out of the church, unable to walk. We were 12.

 

It is said that sexual sin (and it’s cousin, pornography) is “next to murder in seriousness.” Therefore, is it not reasonable that we, as Mormons, look at gun ownership and it’s cousin, MURDER as being as serious as sexual sin?

 

I lived in Las Vegas for a time. I was a young single adult and was very active in the church. [image error]I went through the temple for the first time there and loved it. As a YSA, friends and I would gather and go to the temple together, often listening to country music on the way there and the way home– soothing meoldies that invited the spirit and longed for “true love” in the way that YSAs sometimes do.  I remember looking from the temple—high on the hill behind The Strip, and seeing the grid-pattern planning of Mormons dotted with the lights of the Luxor and Ceasar’s and others. From the vantage of the temple, I could tell exactly where to drive to get home, fiind a dozen local chapels, stake centres and even the Institute– all sans GPS. If I ever felt lost, I could drive to te temple, see my beloved city and find my way home.  

 

 

And now, I love seeing the scores of Mormons in line offering to donate blood, and donating quilts to calm the injured and in shock…. And yet, I can’t help but wonder if those same Mormon hands have argued for the “right” to own guns, standing firmly alongside the future gunmen that would cause crisis after crisis. Because I know these people. And my heart is broken.

Fall 2017 Exponent II Letter From the Editor

[image error]The following is the Letter From the Editor for the Fall 2017 issue of Exponent II, which has a theme of exploring Spiritual Gifts. To make sure you receive a copy of this issue, please subscribe here by October 22, 2017. The cover art is by Heidi Somsen. You can learn more about her and her work here. 

One Sunday afternoon when I was ten years old, my parents decided to go to church. My Catholic-only-on-Easter mother assumed that morning Mass was over and my Mormon-as-a-child father vaguely remembered an afternoon session. They showed up at a 4:00 Sacrament Meeting meeting and announced to a small Michigan Branch that our family was interested in knowing more about the Mormon church. The missionaries were at our house  that night.

Back then, the first lesson was the “The First Vision.” This is where I got interested.  

My parents religious awakening seemed delayed to me. I had been obsessed by stories of faith and rapture for years. I had read several multi-volume children’s Bibles; knew a catalog of Saints by name, miracles, and gruesome deaths; watched the cannon of 1950’s religious movies; and scoured my mother’s Catholic Bible for red tinted Jesus text. I knew about God already.

Joseph’s youth, walking into a grove of trees to pray – much of the setup was familiar to a girl well acquainted with prophetic teen stories. But there was one significant difference that resonated. Joseph asked for his revelation. He invited and expected divine response. This seemed remarkable to me. In most stories I read, the “voices” just came to a person. Wandering in the field, at a grotto, in a dream, in a moonbeam, no one asked to be chosen, it just happened to them. I loved Joseph’s audacious faith.

I was hungry for more stories about Joseph and the early church. After we were baptized, one of the Primary teachers must have noticed my curiosity and took it upon herself to “catch me up” on past primary lessons about the modern-day prophets. I was a rapt student. I went on to devour every early church history book I could find and in my focused 19th century education, concluded that receiving spiritual gifts, seeking revelation, invoking the power of God, and performing communal ritual were the norm and expectation. I grew up in small branches in the Midwest, and suspect my willingness to serve outweighed my fervent though quaint beliefs, so no one corrected me. I walked through the world requesting a miracle in every step. God was everywhere and I felt His power.

Then I found myself at a BYU family home evening, in discussion with a particularly cute boy that I was hoping would ask me out on a date. He pronounced to the group that only priesthood holders could receive revelation. I incredulously reminded him that according to Joseph Smith’s History of the Church this was fundamentally untrue and in fact, I could cite evidence that proved women as sensitive if not more so to gifts such as healing. He rose up in righteous indignation. I was wrong. I was blasphemous. I needed to know my place as a woman. He did not cite references. He did not ask me out.

More significantly I began to realize that my theological understanding, rooted in seeking and celebrating spiritual gifts, was not shared by the rest of my religious community. Until college, I did not consider my gender as a factor in my spirituality. I knew I didn’t have the priesthood, but that did not mean I could not ask or summon or act in revelatory ways. Suddenly I had limited access.     

I started listening for how this message of “boys only” impacts how women perceive and talk about their own spiritual gifts. The rebukes can be direct, more pervasive is the silence and unspoken rules around how women are allowed to claim spiritual power. Yet in hallways, at retreats, in homes, women do speak of calling on the Spirit, often in whispers. Softly,  apologetic, their admissions are almost conspiratorial, depending on the openness of their immediate community.

This Exponent II Fall 2017 issue will hopeful amplify what is always there but not always acknowledged. What are the patterns of revelatory experience that we feel, express, and that change how we move through the world? Gifts of the spirit are often defined as the specific list from Corinthians: wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, discernment, tongues and the interpretation of tongues. But the sense of wonder that comes any time a mortal feels a greater power flow through and beyond them belies categorization. This grace is magnified when the spirit is invited, even commanded, by someone who seems more attuned than most.

We use the word gifted in many contexts. We use it to describe those who are exceptional with language or music or physical speed or relationships. We admire their innate ability, skill, or experience. We are quick to acknowledge any other gift but spiritual. Why does it feel like hubris at best and slightly unhinged at worst to suggest that we are each gifted in ways that demonstrate spiritual power? There are women who can see a clear path amid a dilemma, sister missionaries who learn another language faster than possible, healers who bring comfort and calm amid chaos. Why do we resist speaking up and listing these proud descriptors with our other strengths? How we do reject the passive role of recipient and walk in the woods like the boy Joseph, asking God directly for what is needed?   

In this issue women speak of their gifts and the gifts of their sisters in voices strong and bold. Fara Sneddon begins the issue with Power from Heaven, showing how the gradual diminishing of women’s permission to perform spiritual rituals parallels the loss of institutional power. Linda Hoffman Kimball and Rachel Eggleston write about how gifts of prophecy and dreams inform, guide and comfort their day to day lives in The Gift to Dream Dreams and Every Woman a Prophetess. Cherie Pederson writes about the complexity of giving blessings in A Reclaimed Gift, exploring the dual role of comforter and healer. Carin Olavson expands our notion of spiritual gifts by sharing the healing power of music in her life in Hermeneutics and Hemiolas.  In All are Called by God, Bryndis Roberts gives her account of a photography session illustrating what could have been and what could be in allowing all women, including women of color, full access to spiritual authority.

Accompanying these essays is artwork and featured articles that continue the conversation of how spiritual gifts bless us with insight and provoke us to action, reaching out as the woman on our cover suggests, to God, to our sisters, to our own power as divine beings.

 

Guest Post: The Mormon Martyr Complex and Neglect of Self-Care

[image error]by Kari Ferguson

So often in life and religion, we latch on to one idea and hold on to it like a dog to his favorite bone. We incorporate it into our lives, model ourselves after it, and wholeheartedly ignore any injunctions or viewpoints that contradict our accepted mantra and consequent worldview.

Sometimes the ideas we choose are noble and good. Sometimes they encourage us to do what is right and help other people. But sometimes they are not so beneficial. Sometimes we find our very selves being sacrificed on the altar of selflessness or in pursuit of some higher goal. Often in these cases, we congratulate ourselves, imagining that this is what it means to be truly Christ-like.

But Christ didn’t say that we need to become martyrs and destroy ourselves. He said, “for whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 16:25).

To me, this means that Christ wants us to have an identity. He wants us to be whole. He wants us to be who we are, not to sacrifice everything that makes us who we are until we are too exhausted and downtrodden to care about anything. What good are we to anyone without self-care?

With this in mind, why do we as Mormons hold on so dearly to what I’ll call our “martyr complex”? Why do we so often feel that unless we are suffering—but pretending to be happy—we aren’t doing the whole “living the gospel” thing correctly?

Maybe it comes from our love of calling ourselves a “peculiar people.” Or maybe it comes from our selective readings of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted the prophets which were before you” (Matthew 5:10-12).

If that’s the case, maybe we came to the somewhat troubling conclusion that it’s okay if we revile and persecute ourselves. Maybe we decided that neglecting ourselves and our own physical and mental health was somehow earning us spiritual brownie points. So often, we scramble to hold ourselves together, thinking that we are gracefully enduring to the end. But are we really finding ourselves in that kind of “service”? Or are we racing after what we think will bring us eternal rewards while remaining miserable in the meantime?

So many of us struggle with mental health problems. These problems might be temporary, induced by stress or current life situations, but nonetheless causing real emotional trauma, anxiety, or depression. Other times, we find ourselves dealing with mental illness that may be triggered by an event but then remains with us indefinitely, making us feel as if something else has suddenly and violently taken over our minds.

Too often, we recognize that something has shifted in our minds but jump to the conclusion that it is our spiritual worthiness that brought on this new circumstance. We confuse our spiritual wellness with our mental wellness, thinking that we are spiritually at fault if we have mental health struggles. Either that, or we go into “martyr mode,” thinking that this is our trial—our chance to prove to God that we are strong enough and good enough. We will keep going! We will repent and be better! We will be happy and show God that we love Him and will endure to the end!

But I don’t think that God wants us to be miserably pretending to be happy. I think He wants us to be real. I think He wants us to get help when we are feeling downtrodden. Even when it is our own sin that causes feelings of guilt, He doesn’t want us to wallow around forever feeling badly about what we’ve done. He wants us to repent and move on with our lives. I would say He feels that way even more so when we are dealing with mental illness or mental health struggles.

“Get help!” I bet He would say to us if He could. There have been advances in medical care and therapy for a reason. As I wrote about in my book, The OCD Mormon, when my obsessive-compulsive disorder took a sharp turn into contamination fears and I found myself unable to take care of my family as I once had, my husband encouraged me to get professional help. I was hesitant. I felt doing so would signal a failure to take care of myself. But the fact was, I couldn’t properly take care of myself or anyone else. I needed that professional help, and I eventually took the very difficult steps I needed to get my life back.

If we refuse to use the advances and professional care that have been provided in our day and age, thinking that suffering it out is somehow molding us into better people, are we really being “persecuted” for Christ’s sake or are we just being stubborn? Christ healed people readily. He didn’t tell them to suffer more so that they could become more righteous. He instructed His Twelve Apostles likewise: “Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give” (Matthew 10:8).

Christ Himself practiced self-care. Remember that before He calmed the sea and saved His friends and the boat they were on, He was spending the first part of the storm “in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow” (Mark 4:38). They had to wake up Christ, pleading with Him to save them. Sometimes we are like that, terrified by the storm when maybe we should be exercising self-care, mentally and physically preparing ourselves and then actively taking appropriate action to improve and change our situation.

Christ also took care of Himself after mental and physical exertion. Following the feeding of the five thousand, “straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone” (Matthew 14:22-23).

We should be comforted and encouraged by this. He needed to be alone. He literally sent everyone away, finding a quiet spot for Himself to rest and commune with Heavenly Father. We should follow Christ’s example and take care of ourselves mentally and physically, especially when we are exhausted.

We don’t have to be martyrs to the point that we hate our lives and find ourselves trapped in a constrictive web of mental health problems because we gave until we no longer had anything left for ourselves. We shouldn’t be ashamed of mental illnesses, thinking that God gave them to us to test our willpower and stamina. Mental illness is not a sin. It is not a divine punishment or test from God. It is simply something that happens to some of us. Mental illness is something for which we can seek and receive help and care.

We shouldn’t be ashamed of having mortal problems. Christ, while being the Son of God, was also the Son of Mary, a mortal woman. He needed mental and physical recharge, and we should not be ashamed to need the same things. Don’t allow a dogged attachment to the martyr complex or a misguided belief that enduring to the end means “suffering to the end” deny you of the care and love that you, yourself, need.

Kari Ferguson is the author of The OCD Mormon: Finding Healing and Hope in the Midst of Anxiety and theocdmormon.com.

True Love Requires Action

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I had a relatively lighthearted post planned but after to waking to today’s news that over 50 people were murdered last night in the worse mass shooting in American history, it felt more appropriate to do something else. Additionally, there is a massive humanitarian crisis in Puerto Rico and the United States government is failing our sisters and brothers. So here are some ideas for immediate, proactive action:

Donate blood. The American Red Cross provides information about where you can find local blood drives.

Puerto Rico needs cash donations. Do not donate household goods, they just further clog the supply chains. Here are some vetted charities you can donate to.

Additionally, call the President of the United States and your members of Congress and demand that the government get their act together and provide humanitarian and financial relief to Puerto Rico.

That’s a good place to start. I would love it if our readers would add further proactive actions people can take in the comment section.

May the Lord sustain and bless those who are hurting. And may we be His hands.

“And ye visited me”

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Most women in the church have participated in the visiting teaching program. As a teacher or as a teachee, most of us have had some experiences with it. I have had seasons when i was a good visiting teacher, a bad visiting teacher, and plenty of months when i was a “deliver a treat on the last day of the month” visiting teacher. I have made some amazing friends through the program. It encourages individual service and relationships, which can be a great blessing for us and our sisters.

I think visiting teaching offers us opportunities for Christlike growth by giving us a duty towards people not of our own choosing. Fulfilling that duty moves the stranger, the other, into a fellow striving saint, and possibly into a friend or even a sister. It also serves a very practical purpose to help the relief society president and the ward council better know how to meet the needs of members of the ward.

Visiting teacher is a role that all adult women have an opportunity to accept. We don’t prepare our young women for that potentially transformative experience.

As we increasingly witness the exodus of young members from the church, we must try to prepare our youth for meaningful participation in the gospel. Young men home teach as junior companions, learning to make appointments, deliver a message, and hopefully, to serve and love people outside their families. This can be seen as training them to become missionaries. When young women transition to singles wards they are thrust into visiting teaching callings that they may well have no experience with. Young women may have heard their mothers speak about visiting teaching, but they likely have never observed a visit. YSA wards can be a church environment where many young people feel both superfluous (so much turnover, so few callings available) and isolated. Visiting teaching could provide opportunities to both serve and be served, leading to better relationships with both fellow ward members and the gospel.

While we are on the subject, I wonder why VT only visit women, instead of families.

Do you think junior visiting teachers would work? Is there another way to nurture our younger sisters in the gospel? Do we invest in developing our younger sisters at all, either as future missionaries or as future leaders?

God, Faith, Women & Church: Exploring Feminist Spiritual Formation (Women’s Retreat in NYC)

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[Image by Alice Popkorn on Flickr]

“I stand in my own power now, the questions of permission that I used to choke on for my every meal now dead in a fallen heap, and when they tell me that I will fall, I nod. I will fall, I reply, and

my words are a whisper

my words are a howl

I will fall, I say, and the tumbling will be all my own. The skinned palms and oozing knees are holy wounds, stigmata of my She.”

―Beth Morey, Night Cycles: Poetry for a Dark Night of the Soul

Join Gina Colvin and me for a weekend of exploration into practices and ideas that support the development of feminine spiritual authority. We will practice Ignatian spiritual exercises, contemplative prayer, meditation, along with opportunities for critical reflection and discussion. This will be a sacred space for women forming or reconstituting their spiritual lives and identities that honors the in-dwelling feminine divine.

We will feature women artists and writers whose work demonstrate the intersection of feminist contemplation and action, including Claudia Bushman, Rachel Farmer, Rachel Hunt Steenblik, and Page Turner (more info about them below).

When: November 3-5, 2017

Friday 6:30pm-10:00pm

Saturday 10:00am-6:00pm

Sunday 10:00am-6:00pm

Where: CASE, 390 Broadway, 3rd Floor, New York, NY 10013

Cost: $300*

Register: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/god-faith-women-church-exploring-feminist-spiritual-formation-tickets-36382739754

*Snacks provided. Participants responsible for meals (restaurants nearby) and for securing their own lodging. A Saturday evening optional activity to a sing-along piano bar in NYC will be organized for those interested (minimal cost involved).

*Need-based reduced rates and scholarships available. Contact wendy@wendychristiantherapy.com to apply.

*Donations to support those otherwise unable to attend the retreat are welcome and greatly appreciated. Simply enter the amount under “Donation” when you register through Eventbrite. Any amount helps!

Claudia L. Bushman, an American historian, has taught at many universities, most recently Columbia University and Claremont Graduate University. She has a long relationship with Harriet Hanson Robinson, a Malden resident, who is also the center of her sixteenth book, Going to Boston, about women’s lives in 1870. Her next book will be her autobiography, I, Claudia. She was the founding editor of Exponent II in 1974 and the New York Mother of the Year in 2002. She and her husband Richard Lyman Bushman have collaborated on historical publications as well as producing a family of six children and twenty grandchildren. One of her current projects is a modest quarterly literary journal for her Wellesley Class entitled Scarlet Letters. Another is the second Mormon Arts Center Festival, a four day celebration of contemporary Mormon arts and artists to be held in June 2018 in New York City.

Rachel Farmer is a Brooklyn-based artist, originally from Provo, Utah. She received a BFA in ceramics from BYU (1995) and an MFA in sculpture from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (1997). She works in a variety of media, often incorporating hand-built ceramic sculpture, photography and video. In addition, Rachel has worked in the field of art education for over 20 years, and is currently an educator for School Programs at both the Museum of Modern Art and the Whitney Museum of American Art. Her show “Ancestors Traversing Quilts” was on display this summer at the Leslie-Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art in New York City. Rachel says of her exhibit: “My work draws inspiration from a variety of sources: my Mormon pioneer ancestry, childhood play with ceramic figurines, my grandmother’s quilts, historical dioramas, and pop culture’s invented mythologies of the American West. This installation grew out of pouring over my great-great-grandfather’s diary chronicling his immigrant journey from England to Utah Territory in 1853­­­—while confronting the absence of information about my great-great-grandmother who made the same journey, as a single woman without family, in 1855.” See images of Rachel’s work at http://rachelfarmer.com/

Rachel Hunt Steenblik researched Heavenly Mother full-time for the BYU Studies article, “ ‘A Mother There’: A Survey of Historical Teachings about Mother in Heaven.” She also authored Mother’s Milk: Poems in Search of Heavenly Mother for By Common Consent Press, co-edited Mormon Feminism: Essential Writings for Oxford University Press, and writes at The Exponent II blog. She is a PhD student in philosophy of religion at Claremont Graduate University, and has a BA in philosophy from Brigham Young University and an MS in library and information science from Simmons College. She lives just outside of New York City with her husband and tiny children.

Page Turner is an assemblage artist who collects items of deep personal meaning and creates delicate objects that honor the feminine. Raised as a devout Mormon, she looks to the Church and its complex history as inspiration. While she questions the patriarchal underpinnings and practices of the Church, she celebrates the Mormon sisterhood. Turner stitches objects together with family heirlooms, antique fabric, and other personal objects, by hand, to create delicate sculptural pieces infused with a new feminist aesthetic and a soulful reverence for her heritage. Turner has said, “My sewing box is full of treasures from women long forgotten. Paying respect to these sisters, I turn scraps back into sacred objects.” Indeed, Turner’s assemblages—many seemingly fragile and protected under bell jars—speak powerfully of the strong, enduring legacy of sisterhood. She has exhibited widely in Virginia, North Carolina, Washington DC, and Los Angeles. View a short video about how her Appalachian Mormon heritage informs her art here: https://youtu.be/N2v-JY9gttE

Gina Colvin, PhD, is Host of A Thoughtful Faith Podcast, Mormon Studies Scholar, Author and Critical and Cultural Studies Teacher. Wendy H. Christian, MA, LCSW, is a Psychoanalyst and Licensed Clinical Social Worker in private practice in Manhattan and is featured on A Thoughtful Faith episode, “Enmeshed Family Systems, Differentiation, and Faith Crisis” (episode number 171).

Questions: send an email to wendy@wendychristiantherapy.com

The Resonance of Maya Angelou

 

October 29 is the deadline for Exponent II’s annual essay contest. The subject and rules for entry can be found here. We are excited to read your submissions and print them in the Winter 2018 issue of the magazine. The winner will receive a week’s stay at a writers’ retreat in Ireland. The following is an example of the essay contest theme, “Our Spiritual Foremothers.”

When I was twelve years old, my mother took me to see Maya Angelou and Harry Belafonte speak on campus at Michigan State University. At the time, I knew nothing about Maya Angelou except that my mother loved her writing and that her real name was Marguerite, which was the fancier–and therefore better–version of my name, Margaret. I was a nerdy, imaginative girl who loved books with happy endings and still enjoyed princess dresses. At twelve, I desperately wished to be pretty, fun, and carefree enough to be popular with my peers. With no preparation for who she was or what she would say, I imagined that Maya’s fancy name and her career as a writer made her into everything I aspired to be–beautiful, elegant, and adored.

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As soon as I heard Maya’s rich, resonant voice, my heart was transformed. For a brief moment, I felt disappointment. She was not the pretty, sweet, soft-spoken girl that I had hoped to admire. In the next moment, I felt that disappointment, as well as the immaturity that underlay it, slide away from me forever. Maya’s voice was extraordinary. I was too young to take in the words she was saying, so I only focused on the timbre and rhythm of how she spoke. The longer I listened, the more I wanted to have a voice like hers. Her confidence and strength undergirded every word. She used complex words and didn’t apologize for them. She laughed often and without self-consciousness. Looking back, I don’t remember the message she shared and I barely remember Harry Belafonte at all. But I remember her sonorous voice changing my understanding of what it meant to be feminine and what kind of voice I aspired to have.

A few years later, I read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings for the first time. At twelve I was ready for her voice; it took me a few more years to be ready for her words. One of the reasons reading books is important is that it teaches us empathy. In following a story through someone else’s eyes, we are forced outside of our own perspectives and narratives. Maya Angelou’s books and poetry excel at this, not just because she pulls the reader into her perspective with the force of her writing, but because she offers the gift of empathy to the reader. She powerfully claims her space, but also shares compassion and forgiveness. As I read more and more of her work, I realized that I not only aspired to a voice like hers, I also aspired to a soul like hers. I wanted that kind of commitment to justice and unflinching truth-telling.

At the same time, I became aware of the importance of the social space that Maya inhabited, and how different it was from my own. Maya’s background–poor, Black, southern, and abused–looked nothing like mine. It was challenging and humbling to realize that the advantages that I had been given without merit came with a responsibility to seek out the voices that are not being heard. Maya taught me to be unafraid to tell my story but to also to be curious enough about the world to seek out others’ stories. She taught me to make space in my life to take in the struggles of others, and to use my power to amplify their voices. Whenever I reread her words I am reminded to do better.  

My copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings is well-worn and missing its front cover. I don’t remember where I picked it up, but I know that someone else owned it before me, because written in pen on the first page is,

“5-2-78

Diane–

for the struggle.

D.R.”

[image error]The back cover is mostly a black and white picture of a younger Maya Angelou, looking off to the side and looking like she’s listening but is ready to speak. She is beautiful in a way that my 12-year-old self would never have understood. When I need some wisdom for the struggle, I pull out this book. I wonder who Diane and D.R. were, what they struggled with, and consider how they felt personally connected to the same woman I deeply admire. I like that I carry a tiny piece of their story along with the book. Looking at the photograph of Maya, I recall a dark auditorium, my mother beside me, and a luminous voice simultaneously claiming her space and holding space for others. I imagine Maya saying out loud the words she wrote, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” Sometimes that inspires me to speak. Sometimes it reminds me to listen.