Exponent II's Blog, page 98

My teen son and his very long hair are in the General Conference youth choir.

The bishop met with me first, before extending a calling to my 14-year-old son to participate in the youth choir at General Conference. There would be lots of rehearsals. He wanted to make sure I was okay with the time commitment. He showed me the letter outlining the requirements.

I glanced at the rehearsal dates briefly before my eye was drawn to another part of the letter, listing the dress and grooming requirements. “If he needs help with clothes, we can help with that,” the bishop told me.

I wasn’t worried about the clothes. It was the bit about “no extreme hairstyles.”

My son, and his hair

My son has long, curly, big hair.

“What about his hair? Would they be okay if he just pulled it back into a man bun? Or are they going to make him get a missionary cut?” I asked.

I haven’t made any rules about my son’s hair length. My son’s hair is one of the least important things about him, and as a parent, his hairstyle is not the battle I choose.

In general, I don’t appreciate efforts of my fellow Latter-day Saints to push young men to conform to a 1950s business man look. To me, this seems like a misplaced use of effort which could be better directed toward things that actually matter, like the gospel.

I had flashbacks to when my son had just turned 11, and the church announced a new policy; all 11-year-old young men would be ordained en masse in January, instead of one at a time as each turned 12 over the course of the year. In Mormon-heavy Salt Lake City, the announcement caused a run on white dress shirts for boys. My husband and I dragged our son from one department store to another, but they were all out. We searched online, but no luck.

“Why are we even doing this?” I complained. We knew white shirts were not actually required. We had checked the church handbook. “What are we teaching him about the priesthood? That it’s all about clothes and looking the same as everyone else?”

But rule or no rule, all of the other deacons wore the white shirt uniform. If we didn’t come up with one, our kid would stand out and other church members might give him grief about it. I was willing to take a stand against the conformity police, but I didn’t want to force my pre-teen kid into the battle. My husband and I kept searching.

In the end, it was my murmuring that brought forth fruit. Just before the ordination, a kind mom from the ward who had heard me whine about our white shirt problem arrived at my doorstep and gifted me one of her son’s white shirts. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Actually, I became too relaxed. One Sunday, awhile after my son started passing the sacrament, he sat down next to me in the chapel wearing a nice, clean, conservative, peach-colored dress shirt instead of his white one. We hadn’t managed to get the white one washed on time.

“Why aren’t you sitting with the deacons?” I asked.

“I don’t have my white shirt,” he told me.

“You don’t need it. That’s not a real rule. It’s just a tradition,” I said, blithely forgetting the whole reason we had put ourselves through the great white shirt shopping debacle of 2018.

He headed over to the deacon’s row, only to be kicked out by the bishop for wearing the wrong shirt. I was the one who put him in that situation, setting him up to be shamed for his clothes. I didn’t care if he conformed, but I should have better protected him from those who do.

Our current bishop isn’t the same one who turned my child away for the peach shirt transgression. He promised to defend my son if the choir leaders brought up his hair, but of course, it wouldn’t be his choice in the end. I gave him the go-ahead to invite my son to join the choir. It would be a great experience—as long as they didn’t kick him out for his nonconformist look.

I was really nervous that they would. I talked to my son about the possibility, focusing on the specific situation of a televised choir performance, rather than trying to recite any of the nonsensical sermons I’ve heard about conformity as a virtue.

“I was in the choir when I was 12, and I wore a cute headband, and they made me take it off. They said it drew the eye. Being in a choir is different than singing a solo. Choirs are supposed to blend, not not have any one person standing out. I think you could just pull your hair back into a bun or a ponytail to blend, but they might ask you to cut it. Would you consider cutting it if they asked for that?”

That was a firm no. A haircut would not happen.

On the first day of rehearsal, I pulled his hair back into a ponytail and shoved it down the back of his shirt, hoping the powers that be would not notice. After I walked him in and peeked in from the back, I exhaled a little. I saw several boys in the tenor and bass sections with hair flowing down their backs. He wasn’t the only one who had shown up without a missionary haircut. If they did choose to make a thing out of it, at least he would not be singled out.

My son noticed too. He came to the next rehearsal with his glorious locks of hair flowing free.

Soon after, we received detailed instructions, with photos, about choir apparel for General Conference. In the boys’ section, it said, “Long hair must be pulled back.”

That was it. So reasonable. So easy. The battle I had dreaded didn’t happen.

Phew.

Youth choir rehearsal for October 2022 General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There are several boys with long hair in this photo, and that’s okay.

Guest Post: Reclaiming General Conference

Guest Post by Marie. Marie is an idea explorer, re-activated avid reader, wife, and mother. She has lived most of her life in Atlanta, dreams big, and searches out for the best-tasting food. 

Yesterday morning I was reading through an older Ensign article from President Uchtdorf about preparing for General Conference. The impetus for this was that the last year has brought me some of the darkest times of my spiritual life. This is due, in part, to postpartum side-effects from my Christmas-Eve baby, but also to my spiritual shelf slowly becoming too full, this shelf becoming even more crowded with events involving the Church in the last month or so. I remembered how General Conference used to be an exciting time for me when I was younger, my view on life simpler and less nuanced; watching Conference used to leave me feeling spiritually uplifted and closer to God.

Over the years, however, much of that General Conference sparkle has diminished. It has been a bit like my experience with Christmas; once I found out that a certain Christmas figure wasn’t who I wanted him to be, the magic of my Christmas experience nosedived for a few years, until I found new ways to make Christmas meaningful again. The Christmas magic has slowly returned, but it looks differently than it did before. I’ve been wondering… can I do this same thing with General Conference? Can I actively metamorphosize my Conference experience from an uncomplicated, childlike one to a multi-faceted, but aware, one, that most importantly brings me peace and helps me talk with God?

In his article, Elder Uchtrdorf mentions how we’re entitled to receive personal revelation at General Conference. My take on this is that it’s not necessarily about the actual words the leaders will use or the actual messages they may be trying to share. It’s about a promise from God to me (and you); I show faith by tuning in to Conference and trying to find His voice, so I’m going to expect Him to say something meaningful to me. I’ve already applied this idea to how I approach my scripture study– when I get inspiration while studying my scriptures, much of the time now it really is unrelated to the words of the sometimes misogynistic and racist prophets, or the horrific and violent descriptions of battles, etc; rather, the revelation comes to me because of my faith in trying to find God, even in these imperfect (and almost exclusively) men and painful stories.

So, I’m going to try to take General Conference back for myself. If there is a part that breaks my heart (like President Oaks in October 2019, making a joke out of one woman’s troubled question) or something that I feel could have been better said in a much different way (much of Renlund’s April 2022 talk, ‘Your Divine Nature and Eternal Destiny”), and so on, I’m not going to passively allow that to take away from my experience. Instead, I’m going to actively work to reject that inclination. Why would I let their rough edges negatively impact my own experience with God? This is clearly easy to say and significantly harder to do, but if actually achieved, it would be so empowering.

So, regardless of anyone else and their relationship with God and their understanding of the Gospel, regardless of any words or messages given, if I approach this weekend expecting God to speak to me, or at the least to bless me with that old glow-y, warm feeling in my heart, I think I stand a good chance of having some kind of spiritual experience. At the end of the day, it truly doesn’t matter what words or ideas these men (and two or three women) may share because of the covenants I’ve made with God: He has promised to speak to me directly and teach me directly, line upon line. I’m going to attempt to take back this experience and make it my own by approaching it differently than I have before. If you have made or want to make a similar commitment, I certainly don’t know what that will look like for you and I pray for you in your journey to connect with God, whatever that looks like. For myself, I want to be excited for this weekend. I want God to talk with me. I want to strengthen my relationship with my Heavenly Parents. I’m going to try to reclaim Conference for myself.

 

Mormon Women at the Crossroads – Roundtable Commentary and Book Giveaway!

What do you do when a game-changing book comes along? You interview the author and talk about its themes with your blogging friends. Also, you host a book giveaway because you want more people to have a chance to read this book.

And Caroline Kline’s new book, Mormon Women at the Crossroads: Global Narratives and the Power of Connectedness, is a gamechanger. Kline explores how LDS women of color in Mexico, Botswana, and the United States navigate gender norms, but also how their moral priorities and actions challenge Western feminist assumptions.

In this roundtable, blogger Nicole Sbitani discusses the book’s approach to intersectionality and its implications for Western white Mormon feminists; blogger Spunky looks at how the book explores motherhood and how the women’s lives both reflected and challenged LDS cultural messaging on motherhood; blogger Lavender considers how centering the voices and experiences of Mormon women of color can breathe life into LDS moral progression; and Katie Ludlow Rich considers how the book expands the idea of agency and how that can impact scholarship and perspectives.  

Look to the bottom of the post for how to enter to win a copy of the book!

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Nicole Sbitani on Intersectionality

Caroline Kline’s Mormon Women at the Crossroads: Global Narratives and the Power of Connectedness is a must-read for Mormon women striving to be intersectional. As a mixed-race woman and member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS church) with white privilege, I was struck by Kline’s insightfully distilled framework of non-oppressive connectedness as a moral priority for LDS women of color. I’m convinced a better understanding of this concept could help Western white Mormon feminists shift away from white feminist saviorism.

Kline points out that although structural gender inequality is important for understanding female oppression in a patriarchal church and society, it is insufficient to explain many of the higher-priority struggles of women of color around the world. Despite this fact, many feminists have focused on oppression affecting women with race and class privilege. Anecdotally, I’ve noticed that my own posts on the Exponent Blog dealing with issues of race tend to receive much less engagement and fewer comments than my posts about gender.

The writer cautions readers against the white savior’s impulse to see global Mormon women of color as helpless victims who need to be saved (usually from men of their culture) by outsiders. We must listen to and center marginalized women, even when they don’t confirm our own views. For example, Kline found that some global LDS women find male priesthood leadership, gender complementarianism, and self-reliance doctrine empowering and liberating. She writes, “When we pay attention to particularities of location, nationality, class, and race, we can see that programs and processes that do not feel particularly liberating for white middle-class American women actually can be liberating for women in different parts of the world.” 

The author approaches intersectionality with a humility and open-mindedness that should be a model for all of us. She frequently discusses her goals and how her own limited understanding interfered with her efforts; for example, some of the interview questions she carefully crafted in the United States “might not align with the stories the women wanted to tell [her] about their lives.” She tries to unpack deep, heavy topics such as American neocolonialism in the religious experiences of international women. At the same time, she is aware of how her own identity and social location might interfere with participants’ answers. Throughout the project, she interrogates her intentions and whether she is the right person to share these stories.

Crucially, Kline engages in mutual trust with her interviewees, recognizing that she may fall short but will try her best to do right by them. The world would be a better place if more white feminists did the same: listened to marginalized people, wrestled with their place in a movement for justice beyond their own group, and contributed to the work even when it is challenging and cannot ever be perfect. She demonstrates how we can all move toward exactly the non-oppressive connectedness ideal that the women she interviews value so much.

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Spunky on Motherhood

Motherhood is one of the primary components of Mormonism both for men and women. For men, motherhood is inclusive of the assignment given to every woman, often exemplified on Mother’s Day in western societies by giving gifts to unmarried married teen females and childless women, identified as “future mothers.” For women, the position fulfills a complementarian ideal—one that is beautifully presented in this book.  

In addressing this complementarian ideal, Kline identifies and explores a kind of “separate but equal” female vs. male role structure that is encapsulated in the global Mormon church. She further identifies the challenge in this as it resulted in “decision-making power accruing to males” as they are “presiding” leaders within family and church units.

Further, Kline addressed the fact that western-style traditional motherhood was rarely represented in the collected histories. This is revolutionary in that this work reflects “real” Mormon women, and not the idealized womanhood that is traditionally included within the classic Mormon library. Within this context, the heartbreaking retelling of the Batswana church member, Naomi as a rape survivor with HIV/AIDS and living as a single mother is astutely represented and analyzed to reflect the conflict and complications of women within her culture. Within Naomi’s cultural context, Kline demonstrates the Mormon “conception of all women as ontological mothers” and its acceptance and reverberation in many Batswana women because of the social, generational, and familiar emphasis on motherhood, whether the women be married or not. (62) It is important to note here that Naomi served as a Relief Society president, and unlike many of her Mormon church-attending peers, ended her long-term, unmarried partnership to include the Mormon law of chastity in her life. (another retelling on page 72 is worth the cost of the book alone!)

Further, the vehicle of Relief Society is demonstrated by Kline as a tool in which Mexican Mormon women improved or created employment. Though the focus was on being better equipped to provide fiscally for the children of the Mormon women, the availability of the Relief Society instruction and support towards financial improvement outside of stay-at-home parenthood demonstrated epistemological shifts of political and policy challenges within the church.

Overall, the book brilliantly exemplifies the integration of global Mormon feminist and demographic perspectives of the lives of Mormon women, whilst skillfully integrating developing and changing attitudes towards motherhood within a Mormon context. It is liberating in this concept, and well worthy of scholarly and social attention. 

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Lavender on Moral Progression

Melinda Gates, in her book The Moment of Lift, argues that “tradition without conversation kills moral progression.” In other words, for example, traditions organized and written by white wealthy American men without input from or conversation with non-white, non-wealthy, non-American, or non-men keep morality stuck in a white wealthy American male paradigm that marginalizes the rest. I believe this. However, evidence shows that humans throughout history progress beyond their dominant traditions. People absent from the rooms where dominant traditions are made often create personal traditions, small rebellions, and stories that are not reflected in the dominant tradition. In her book, Mormon Women at the Crossroads, Caroline Kline shares the hidden traditions and stories of active Latter-Day Saint women of color in Botswana, Mexico, and the U.S. She gives voice to the marginalized and finds an abundance within and beyond Mormon tradition. I believe these women can change what Mormon tradition is and revive its moral progression.

Many of the women in Kline’s book expressed some form of embracing ambivalence. Embracing ambivalence is the act of allowing two or more conflicting ideas to exist at the same time. Developing this quality is a sign of moral maturity. These women of color create their own spaces, their own traditions where “neither the priesthood ban and the temple ban nor polygamy [is] of God” (122), where “I am the priesthood holder in my house” (127), where Heavenly Mother’s voice “came from the earth” (149), where “we are a dreaming people, so I dream many things” (147), where “you don’t have to be a white person to be a Mormon” (144). These women’s stories are incredible displays of resilience and creativity as well as evidence that tradition is being created even when the dominant, privileged tradition does not premise it.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, embracing ambivalence is not taught in the dominant tradition. In fact, contradictorily, tradition promotes “choose the right,” “hold to the rod,” “follow the prophet,” and “don’t be deceived.” The dominant tradition also reflects ideas and a history that voiced anti-racial marriage, silencing Heavenly Mother, and that Black skin negates priesthood; basically, Mormon tradition oppresses and marginalizes women of color while promoting binary thinking. This is why women of color should be included in the dominant tradition. These women’s experiences are vital for the church to progress. If women of color continue to be left out of the tradition-making conversation, moral progression for the church will be killed.

While reading Mormon Women at the Crossroads, I experienced vivid dreams; dreams of trapped, suffocating women smiling and waving as heavy steal lids were placed over the containers they stood inside. But these women are not trapped or suffocating. These women are already progressing beyond the traditions of the church, creating spaces where they breathe and belong. I think it is the church that is suffocating. Kline has given the church an opportunity to start a conversation with women of color, I suggest they take it.

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Katie Ludlow Rich on Agency

In my own work as an independent scholar of Mormon women’s history, I have been influenced by the thinking of Catherine Brekus’s landmark lecture, “Mormon Women and the Problem of Historical Agency” (behind a paywall here). Brekus argues in part that agency exists on a continuum, and that agency is not limited to challenging social structures, but also includes reproducing them. These ideas have pushed me to consider how historical Mormon women have acted with agency even when they support patriarchal men and institutions; it has led me to look beyond the words of powerful Mormon men and focus on the words and actions of women in areas they have been previously overlooked.

I was interested to see Kline’s approach to the issue of agency; she likewise looks to Brekus, but also to other scholars such as Saba Mahmood and Amy Hoyt, among others. Mahmood argues that Western conceptions of agency must move beyond the notion of agency as subversion of authority (7). Hoyt argues that “feminist theory’s emphasis on equality and emancipation shuts out the experiences of traditional religious women who have different understandings of women’s distinct roles and notions of male-female interdependence” (8). My view on gender roles has been shaped by many things, but western feminist theory is a strong influence. Leaning too heavily on my own positionality can cause me to misunderstand and misinterpret women who may have different perspectives, experiences, and moral priorities.

With these expanded notions of agency, Kline recognized the need to identify and focus on the dominant values and moral priorities held by the women she interviewed. Through her interviews and deeply listening to the women, she identified the paradigm of non-oppressive connectedness that drove many of these women’s thoughts and actions. While many white western feminists focus on gender inequality as the greatest evil, Kline saw that the women she interviewed often had a moral priority that emphasized good, healthy connectedness with other people and with God. In this mindset, gender inequality was not the greatest evil, but rather abuse, oppression, and unexamined privilege in policy and theology. Liberation and healthy connectedness were driving moral priorities and were important markers in seeing how these women were agentive in their own lives.

For me, this is an expansive concept that helps me better recognize the limitations of my own biases and moral framework. It gives me tools as a writer and researcher to look at the moral priorities of the people I study rather than imposing my own moral framework on them.

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Now, the book giveaway! To enter you must be a resident of the United States. All you have to do to enter is comment below by October 6, 2022 that you would like to win a copy. You can enter a second time if you share this post on social media (honor system! Share then make a second comment). I will assign a number to each entry and will use a random number generator to select the winner. The winner will be announced on October 7, 2022. The winner must email their mailing address to me by October 10 or a new winner will be selected.

When You are “Called”… and it doesn’t quite feel right

We’ve all been there.

 

It happens. Maybe more than we know.

 

A calling is extended and it just seems like the weirdest concept ever. When I was a YSA, I believed all I was told and tried to put a good face on and do it. But now… I am not so “Y”, nor am I “S”, and maybe I am a little more cynical on the “A” side of things. As a friend of mine once told me, “Whenever I get a calling, I ask ‘Is this inspiration or desperation?’ before I accept. I’d rather fill in till they get the right person, than accept a calling that isn’t right.”

 

 

I wish I had her hutzpah. But I don’t. I’m a people pleaser, and feel the guilt of not accepting a calling, even when it isn’t right for me.

 

 

The thing is, I do feel good about this calling—but not right now. We’ve just moved, I am still setting up house in a new country, trying to support my children, navigating a new medical system, starting a new job and about a million other things. I want another few weeks to a month before I stack on a calling that I fear will break me.

 

But the auxiliary (I know, wrong term) president who called me said she knew I was right for the calling the second she met me, two weeks before our records were even in the ward. And though I am stressed, I feel happy– so when people ask, I say, “I am overwhelmed, but finding my feet…” which I think they perceive as my way of saying I am just fine. But I am starting to cry more often than I’d like, a sign that I am getting overwhelmed. But then…  I was sustained—much to my chagrin—before I officially accepted the calling. Ugh. So don’t even get me started on how much I dislike being “set apart” (a whole ‘nother topic for another day).

 

 

Is all this needing a bit more time to find my feet a good enough reason to “postpone” a calling?

 

Well, I asked Sister Google. And Sister Google provided a copious number of guilt-inducing articles and blog posts about accepting unwanted callings and the never-ending blessings associated with doing so. Sister Google overwhelmingly said “No, humble yourself and repent for questioning Heavenly Father (when did He show up?) and just do the calling and you’ll be blessed.” In case you are interested in a very recent example, there was a talk last General Conference by Larry S, Katcher wherein he tells the story of a man who wanted to avoid being called as stake president, so he skipped town during a local conference, and was in a terrible accident–  spared because he was supposed to be the next stake president. After repenting, he accepted the call… which implies that to turn a calling down is a sin.

 

So now am I too sinful for the calling that I said no to, which created my grievous sin? Chicken or the egg argument, anyone?

 

Startlingly, many of the articles that popped via Sister Google were about being called to Young Women presidencies and not wanting to serve in the Young Women. Is this possibly because we know that many things we were taught as Young Women aren’t right for us and we have no desire to repeat that experience? Nor can we feign testimonies and teaching the “benefits and blessings” of a patriarchal system that teaches us to swathe ourselves in layers of clothes on the hottest days when the Young Men can openly go shirtless, and then being coerced to testify to a system that feels icky at best? In considering this, I feel like I need a counselling session to dissect it all…

 

At the end of the day, I do not doubt that blessings for serving are real, and being called to personally challenging positions can be a learning experience. That these experiences can teach us something utterly new about ourselves and increase our testimony to the point of euphoria. At least sometimes. And maybe even most of the time. I also absolutely believe in being blessed for service of any kind– whether inspired by Christian, Wiccan, Islamic or just good human motivations: genuine service is blessed service.

 

 

And yet… I can’t help but recall the missionary I met as a youth. A brilliant young man who converted to the church when he was 18. He had a testimony, but he wished he had not joined the church until he was older, so he didn’t “have to” go on a mission. He was miserable. And faithful. But mostly miserable. With a beautiful testimony. My heart ached for him, because even though I was quite young when I met him, I already knew the back-breaking, weighty encumbrance of church-inspired peer-pressure.

 

 

So, dear feminist sisters. What do you think? Are callings “ready, set, go”—or take a breather and make sure you are in a place to do the job? I’d like to know. Because ghosting the ward is only going to work for me for so long…

 

 

 

Love the Weather Legend

A strong memory of love.

In Provo, married, shared housing with singles, Provo River rumbling outside. Fiona Apple throbs decibel level ear damage. Wearing only bra, garment bottoms, so sexy, dancing, abdomen isolating circling like a middle eastern dancer. Young lovers. Separate from parents. Cherries popped, virtuously, stems neatly tied in mouths. Saliva exchanged, salvation. Sacred holy offering. Before the pregnancy. Before the checkup, Before the still born. Before the dusty box on the bookshelf, I showed future kids to tell them I knew for sure families were forever. A memory of a boy who was not. Their dead brother, buried. We will see him, meet him again. Rewind, the day we married, daughter of the morning early, much to the dismay of my mom who doesn’t like to get up at five in the morning. We booked the Claritin Inn across the street from Benihana. After the marriage where I learned I had a new name and a veil which would hide me we attempted to check in to the hotel. Virgins. Soon to be non-virgins. But the hotel would not let us check in. They didn’t care that we were Mormons who had desperately abstained from sex for 20 and 22 years, respectively, give a kid a break. So, our Nissan Pathfinder with duct tape on the back light and on the front dash, fuzzy counters, and the Claritin parking lot, enhanced by parking lights became our redemption sunrise. Anticipatory. Not as expected. Elation of catharsis. I did not know what this feeling was. Too powerful, I stifled feeling it. Later learned it was called an orgasm. And later still, learned not to stifle this glory.

Strange weather.

The siren shrieked. It meant take cover in your new Alabama home shelter, downstairs in the utility room with a concrete floor, clogged drain, cockroach on his back, ninja turtles on the foam bed. We, my five kids and husband and I, had never been through a tornado before. It felt weird to take it so seriously, nothing had happened, but we had watched Wizard of Oz enough to know the punch line could be coming. My phone battery at seven percent. Not enough charge to watch James Spann, the meteorologist for very long but honestly, what good does it do to watch them tell you the world is ending. Might as well check Facebook, disengage from my kids, like pronate cockroaches, wanting me to engage with them. When I die, I will explain to the verdict gatherer, sorry couldn’t talk to them even though distractions were eliminated and our eminent demise was upon us, I had three notifications. Nothing happened, tornado alarm stopped. No one really knew when it was ok to come back for air. Eventually we assumed because the sky was still there. Phineas turns on Zelda, the one that looks all 3D and like a wonderland journey that I want to go camping at and they eat things like brighten berries and mushroom synapses for energy. He invites me to play and again, I decline, how boring, no thanks, never. Kids bore me, so bad. I go upstairs into the storm shelter of my own making, the left side of my bed and turn on Call the Midwifes or Shameless, I can’t remember. I cry about their lives, engage, and love these fake people but can’t seem to pour passion like maple syrup into my own children who are growing so fast. I smell pancakes crisping. My husband is making them, Kodiak, the healthier ones, the less yummy ones. He makes time with them healthy. I lick the syrup up in my mind.

Legend that speaks to me.

The Sleeping Lady, Susitna, in war lied down after battle, wounded. Her lover, Nekatla spread her hair on the earth and Susitna died, solemnly, on the site line of Anchorage, Alaska, now melded with the city scape. She is a mountain, her hair spread out thin. Her raised face and her body gently curving down. No breasts. Like me. One is smaller than the other. I am surprised others do not notice. When I worked on McKinley Explorer tourist train that summer, after baby Elijah died and a cast of his foot and hands is placed in the dusty box on the shelf is all that reminds me, he was real. Legend, Fact, fiction, story, true, false, eternity, post-modern. The tourist from New York who scoffed at me and barked gave me the biggest tip. The first time I ever met a New Yorker and found out that harshness isn’t always what I think. His wife told me he liked me. My jokes. And she liked the legend of the sleeping lady. Because who doesn’t love a good, dead heroine to go down in the history books.

Guest post by Shannon Milliman. Shannon Milliman, CPTD, CLMS is a playwright, published poet, essayist, and performs an original, autobiographical, one woman play called Not So Supernova which is a raw, emotional story about the jagged edges of motherhood and marriage. Her play emphasizes finding humor and believing in the healing power of hope when life doesn’t go as you plan. She hopes to create a play dedicated to each of her children so hopefully she lives a long life.

Creating a Community of Belonging – It Matters at Church

‘There’s a place for us, somewhere a place for us’ these lyrics from the West Side Story song “Somewhere” kept floating through my mind while writing this post, the second in a series about teaching. While this song is not about church, it does speak about the need for people to have a place where they can be themselves while still belonging to a community. 

Creating community, a place of belonging, is a critical component of an effective learning environment. The more I talk with people about church, the more I suspect that a sense of belonging together while also being ourselves and not hiding parts of what we think, feel, or believe, is something most people want but do not have at church. 

Before diving into how to create belonging, connection, and community at church, a couple of items to note:

If you teach a class at church and really want a post about material for your lesson, the Exponent II has a wealth of resources for current and past lessons. To find those, click on the ‘Lessons’ tab on the top of the page or click here.  The focus of this series, starting with a post about power and this post about belonging, are intended to create a framework for a learning environment. I decided to write about  teaching because that is what I do professionally and because that second hour of church in classes is half of the time of Sunday church meetings. Our experiences in church classes have the potential to significantly impact us for better or worse.

What Belonging Is and Is Not 

Belonging is different than fitting in. In Braving the Wilderness, research professor Brene Brown shares experiences about conducting research on belonging versus fitting in. Not surprisingly, she found that 8th-grade students were adept at identifying the difference.  This age group is keenly aware of trying to find a place of belonging. Fitting in means you are like everyone else. Belonging means you get to be yourself. 

A couple of personal examples illustrate the difference in a church setting. Recently at church an older woman complimented my outfit – dolman sleeve black t-shirt, wide leg black pants, hair pulled back with statement earrings. Her compliment helped me feel I belong at church because I can wear pants without seeing looks of horror on other people’s faces. Contrast this experience with my husband’s experience in one ward where Elder’s Quorum classes often turned into sports conversations about two nearby rival universities – neither of which he had attended. He didn’t feel like he belonged at all because he couldn’t join in the conversation.

Building Community Takes Intention

How do we build community in church classes? This is a topic studied by researchers in different fields. I am grateful for researchers because they do the work of providing evidence based practices for teachers like me to implement. Here are practices that I have learned about and incorporated into my teaching practice: 

Learn Names. Could I name everyone in Relief Society or Sunday School. Nope, not even close enough to attempt it. I once attended a ward for a decade and had no idea of the names of most of the women in Relief Society, not to mention all the people in Sunday School, because I was only in those classes once every couple years before getting shunted back to Primary.  Never assume that everyone knows everyone else’s names. If you have been asked to teach a Primary or youth class, when you first join the class is a good time to have everyone say their names out loud over several weeks until you are sure everyone knows everyone else’s name. In a larger adult class, it could be useful to take a few minutes every couple months to have everyone quickly say their names at the beginning of class. Or, as my ward started doing after a recent ward boundary reorganization, placed name tags on a table outside the Relief Society door. Names are important. 

Start Class with Check-ins. Check-ins are an opportunity for connection at a personal level. Here are three examples of different types of check-ins in different learning environments from a check-in I used while teaching primary, to my experience in my graduate teaching program, to what I do as a teacher today. 

In Primary, I noticed that the kids in my class loved to talk! Go figure. I decided to give them an opportunity to talk. At the beginning of each class, each child (kid) in the class had one minute to share whatever they wanted to share. I learned about pets, experiences at school, Sunday dinner at grandma’s house. The time limit kept the more chatty kids from dominating the conversation and gave more reserved kids all the time they wanted to use. It worked quite well because hearing each other share and having an opportunity to be heard by peers established connection. Their need for connection met, the kids were then able to give attention to the discussion or activity. 

In my graduate teaching program, one of my favorite professors started each class by giving everyone an opportunity to share a ‘high and low’ from the past week. The class was small with about a dozen of us and was a once a week three hour class. Highs and lows could be as personal or vulnerable as people chose. 

An example of ‘high and low’ for me at a lower level of vulnerability: 

High – Where I live it’s peach season! The most wonderful time of the year. I bought juicy sweet peaches at a famer’s market stand this week.Low – My foot is in a boot due to a stress fracture and the boot is hot and sweaty. Yuck.

An example of ‘high and low’ for me at an increased level of vulnerability:

High – I get to write a post for the Exponent II! I love doing this even though each post takes a few hours. I cherish my connections with the group of permabloggers. I had an experience at our blogger retreat this spring that was sacred and healing. Low – Lately I struggle the most I ever have with going to church. People are friendly yet the experience as a whole feels heavy on religion and patriarchy and light on spirituality. I miss the days when my ward first resumed in-person in after covid shutdown and we had the sacrament at the end of sacrament meeting. It felt like the meeting was a shared experience in preparation for an important event instead of the sacrament being something to get done and out of the way before speakers. 

A high/low style check-in may be challenging in a larger class like adult Sunday School, Relief Society or Elders’ Quorum. It is definitely possible in smaller classes and even meetings like ward council. In larger classes, a teacher could still choose to give a few people an opportunity to share. There is a risk that only chatty people will dominate the conversation. An alternative is to ask people to turn to the person next them and share with each other. Yet another option would be a group check-in such as asking a question that people respond to with a thumbs-up, thumbs-sideways, or thumbs-down. Questions could include ‘How was your week?’ ‘How is your energy level today?’ ‘How are you feeling about today’s topic?’ These are a few of many options for check-ins. Try one and see what happens. I’d love to hear feedback about experiences. 

Rituals. How do you start and end the class? Over the past few years, I have come to understand the power of ritual to connection, heal, and energize. At school, each class starts the day with a morning meeting sitting around a rug. We light a candle, have one person guide movement or stretches, have a connection question where each person takes a turn to share their thoughts, announcements, and a chime to end the circle and blow out the candle. It is a calming way to begin the day. 

Inclusive language. Saying humankind instead of mankind, ‘Heavenly Parents’ instead of only ‘Heavenly Father’ makes a difference. Gender inclusive language is a tender point for me. If you are tempted to dismiss the need for inclusive language, please first remember that we are called to be compassionate to each other. Also consider reading a gender swap. Amy McPhie Allbests’s “Dear Mormon Man, tell me what you would do” remains one of the best gender swaps I have read. Also consider that if all are alike unto God and there is a place for each of us a church, then using inclusive language helps achieve unity and belonging. The American Psychological Association created guidelines for inclusive language including guidance for how to avoid microaggressions in conversation. Scroll down to see charts of terms to avoid and terms to use.

Small groups. One summer a neighbor invited to participate in her church’s weekly women’s study group. I liked my neighbor so I said yes. The participants were divided into groups of 8-10. Every week for six or seven weeks, we met in these small groups. It was enjoyable getting to know other people. Often on a Sunday I don’t need a class about a conference talk; I do need connection and conversation with other people. Be willing to ditch the typical lesson and do something different. 

A final observation – I have noticed that the more I know myself and am comfortable with who I am, the more I am able to make space for other people to belong and be who they are.  It can be hard and, at the same time, I have learned that it is essential for me to be founded in who I am and grounded in my connection to the Divine. Doing this opens up connections and community in ways I can’t explain. 

What are your thoughts and experiences about community and belonging at church?

War Does Not Determine Who Is Right – Only Who Is Left.

I write this on September 11, 2022.

This is the 21st anniversary of an event which gives horrific illustration to the acronym WAR – We Are Right.

This terrifying human need that we all have to prove we are right can, when allowed and encouraged, lead us to leave bodies in our wake. People will fly planes into buildings to prove they are right.

And, in response to the events of that day, others in power sent vast resources and people to invade the borders of another country, costing hundreds of thousands of lives – even though intelligence found no evidence to justify these actions – all in effort to prove, insist, demand and force people to say that those who created this war, are right. Even more right than those who flew planes into buildings. Unfortunately, in the escalation of WAR (We Are Right), efforts to prove one is more right than another, one will leave substantially more bodies in their wake.

Even in anticipating the need to prove a greater level of being right, vast resources are devoted to developing larger and more destructive means of leaving greater numbers of bodies, at the cost of greater poverty, more hunger and homelessness, horrific damage on land, water, air and habitat, and also feeding and encouraging the habit of demonizing the “other”, and promoting “us vs. them” rhetoric. Larger, bigger walls are built, cutting great scars across land, as a monument to those who cling to the wall as evidence of their “rightness”, even as more bodies pile up, and more people lose capacity to care.

This deadly habit of WAR is waged in every part of our society. In every political arena, in every town, school, church community, and family.

People will insist that others conform to their “truth”, even when loved ones are in front of them, begging to be allowed to exist and to be loved.

Even when loved ones no longer show up in front of those insisting on their “truth” – either because they leave to go where they have room to breathe, to exist, to love, or because they are no longer breathing anywhere – some will keep insisting on being right. Even as the numbers of their family, of their community, diminish to only those who can fit into a small, tiny, limited space of their narrow, never changing, no room for growth or revelation, “truth”.

This insistence on being right at all costs is the opposite of multiplying and replenishing life. It is contrary to the way God created life in us – by inspiring us to breathe deeply, to exist more completely.

In all our relationships, in all our communities, we have countless moments when we can choose to be right and to prove that “truth”, that “rightness” at all costs – or we can choose to be connected – we can choose to be love.

Today, especially on a day when many might be in front of a mic, and feeling the habit or the obligation to repeat familiar phrases of rhetoric that do not always have awareness or room for the existence and life of all… consider a new practice of looking for ways to have room for those who have a different experience of life, of existence, of God.

Please make room in your mind and soul to be connected, rather than to expend energy on insisting on being right.

We have all left far too many bodies in our wake.

Sacred Music Sunday: What a Friend we Have in Jesus

This weekend is Stake Conference in my stake, and the theme is 2 Nephi 33:6 “I glory in plainness; I glory in truth; I glory in my Jesus, for he hath redeemed my soul from hell.” Last night at the adult session of conference, a stake member performed an a capella version of What a Friend We Have in Jesus. I’ve always loved this hymn, and I wish it were in our hymnal. Often we talk about the majesty of God, but we forget that Jesus is supposed to be our friend. When telling His disciples about the impending atonement, He described it as laying down his life for his friends. See John 15:13.

wooden cross, Jesus, symbol

What does it mean for Jesus to be a friend? I think it means we need to communicate with Him and be there for the important things. We do a great job of celebrating His birthday, having a month or so of parties. But do we take the time to think about Him on a regular basis? That’s what friends do.

The God Who Gives Us Beauty

Come Follow Me: September 26–October 2 ~ Isaiah 50–57

This lesson plan is written for you to use in a class or at home. If you use it at home, I suggest just taking various segments a day at a time and discussing them as a family or on your own in your journal (my family usually does a segment a night over the dinner table). Don’t try to do the full lesson at once – it’s meant to be taken in smaller chunks. If you use it for a class at church, I suggest just choosing a segment or two to focus on during the lesson.

Photo by Sean Oulashin on Unsplash

Introduction

In 2007 I was a visiting student at BYU-Hawaii. Early one Sunday morning I went to the nearly empty beach with my journal and sat down to write. I looked out at the beauty of the waves and the clouds and the sounds and the smells. And in that moment, I knew God loves me. Nothing remarkable happened. No piercing voice, no ginormous self-discovery. I just felt that God loves me. 

In that moment, I started thinking about what I’d been taught about the Plan of Salvation with the diagrams in Sunday School on the chalk board and realized that it would have all worked just fine with an ugly earth. But God chose to make the earth beautiful because of love. 

[If teaching a class, perhaps you have felt similarly when surrounded by God’s creations and could share a similar story of feeling his love in nature] 

I’ve recently been reading Terryl and Fiona Givens’s book The God Who Weeps and they reiterate this idea that came to me all those years ago much more eloquently. They say:

“Darwin was sure that even those spectacles of nature that overwhelm us by their beauty, from the peacock’s tail to the fragrance of an English rose, serve not man’s purpose but their own, which is survival and reproducibility … In other words, maple leaves in autumn do not suddenly transform into stained glass pendants , illuminated by a setting sun, in order to satisfy a human longing for beauty. Their scarlet, ochre, and golden colors emerge as chlorophyll production shuts down, in preparation for sacrificing the leaves that are vulnerable to winter cold, and ensuring the survival of the tree. But the tree survives, while our vision is ravished. The peacock’s display attracts a hen, and it nourishes the human eye. The flower’s fragrance entices a pollinator, but it also intoxicates the gardener. In that “while,” in that “and,” in that “but it also,” we find the giftedness of life.

“Therein lies the most telling sign of a vast superabundance. Nature’s purposes and God’s purposes are not in competition but work in tandem. If the first works by blind necessity, the second works by generosity. And in recognizing that giftedness, we turn from appreciation to gratitude, from admiration for the world’s efficiency and order, to love of its beauty and grandeur.“

Segment 1: Isaiah 50

Twice in this chapter the words “The Lord God will help me” are repeated. The God who loves us, who created this beautiful world for us, will help us personally. 

Sister Maurine Jensen Proctor said in a BYU Women’s Conference: 

“The Lord offers us his solutions to all our questions, and he tells us, “I am more intelligent than they all” (Abraham 3:19). There is not a problem we can pose to him or a challenge so perplexing that he does not already have the answer. How can some of that light be shed into our own minds?

“The scriptures reveal a pattern for receiving enlightenment—and it is not one we usually talk about: Serious reflection precedes revelation.“

Questions for discussion or for your personal journal: 

When have you felt God helping you? Has this ever been unexpected? Has it required serious reflection?Is God helping you the same as personal revelation? Or are they different? How so? What are you seeking God’s help in now? What does God’s help in your life teach you about the love of God? How does God’s help add beauty to your life?

Segment 2: Isaiah 52:9

9 Break forth into joy, sing together, ye waste places of Jerusalem: for the Lord hath comforted his people, he hath redeemed Jerusalem.

Questions for discussion or your personal journal:

Let’s take a moment to focus on singing together. In July of 2018 the Tabernacle Choir sang with the Gay Men’s Chorus (read about that here). It was one tiny moment where the church as an institution was willing to put some beliefs aside in order to unite and praise God. Let’s do that more often! How can we “sing together” with people from all walks of life more often? (and I’m not just talking about singing exactly, but any type of communing together)How does receiving God’s comfort add beauty to your life? What does it teach you about the love of God?

Segment 3: Isaiah 53:3-5

3 He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

4 Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

It is this rejection and pain he felt that allowed him to develop empathy. As Terryl and Fiona Givens put it

“Christ’s empathy then is not some inherent attitude of the Divine. It was dearly paid for, each day of His mortal life, filled as it was with all the trauma an uncomprehending world could inflict on perfect innocence. He knew the physical rigors of hunger and thirst, and the emotional deserts of loneliness and rejection.“

Questions for discussion or your journal:

Christ has perfect empathy for us. Why does that matter to you on a personal level?How do His wounds, His bruises, His chastisement, and His stripes teach us about His love? How does that add beauty to your life?

Segment 4: Isaiah 54:13

13 And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children.

In a blogpost on the church’s website, Sister Morgan Young wrote: 

“Consider times when people came to Jesus in great distress and He responded with words such as “Peace, be still” or “Be not afraid, only believe” (Mark 4:39; Mark 5:36). These calm responses don’t mean Jesus never felt troubled, sorrowful, or anguished—or that we won’t either. With His understanding of the plan of salvation and complete trust in His Father’s will, He was able to endure all things and overcome so He might be able to succor us in all things. As He said: “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).“

Questions for discussion or for your personal journal:

How does peace fit in even when we feel troubled, sorrowful or anguished? How can Christ’s vulnerability help us feel peace? How can we feel peace through our own vulnerability?A lot of people grow up in the church and end up not feeling peace within the church walls due to the racism and sexism they experience within the church culture. But the gospel is supposed to bring peace! How can we do a better job of teaching the gospel of peace (rather than a dogma of division)? 

Segment 5: Isaiah 55:10-12

10 For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater:

11 So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.

12 For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

This section brings the beauty of the world and the beauty of the word together in a beautiful simile. God wants us to find peace in the word just as he allows creation to bloom. Questions to discuss or ponder or write in your journal about:

How does believing that God wants us to find peace impact your life? How does it bring your life beauty? What does it show about God’s love?

Enduring to the End: What Does It Mean?

One of the most sacred commandments in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is to “endure to the end.” This directive appears explicitly in our canonized Scriptures at least 18 times (Matthew 10:22; Mark 13:13; 1 Nephi 13:37; 1 Nephi 22:31; 2 Nephi 9:24; 2 Nephi 31:15; 2 Nephi 31:20; 2 Nephi 33:9; 3 Nephi 15:9; 3 Nephi 27:6; 3 Nephi 27:16; Alma 5:13; Alma 38:2; Moroni 3:3; Moroni 8:3; D&C 10:69; D&C 14:7; D&C 20:29) and even more if you count indirect references. But do we know exactly what it means to endure to the end?

I think it’s telling that enduring to the end is only referenced twice in the New Testament and many more times in the Book of Mormon and Doctrine & Covenants. Our concern with enduring to the end has increased in the latter days over time and distance from being able to directly receive the teachings of Jesus Himself. I have always understood enduring to the end to mean two things: (1) continuing to the best of our ability to go on living despite life’s hardships and (2) staying true to our faith and the sincere beliefs that we have despite the trials we’ll experience as a result.

Both New Testament references to enduring to the end seem to address the latter point clearly. In Matthew 10:22, Jesus tells the Apostles after a list of abuses they will endure at the hands of men for their faithful obedience to God: “And ye shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake: but he that endureth to the end shall be saved.” “Endureth” is a holy recognition of the sacrifices these disciples are being asked to make in order to further God’s work on Earth. It is not easy to be hated, especially to be hated by those in power who can abuse, torture, and even kill you and your loved ones. But the Scriptures provide us with many examples of those who endured anyway and blessed entire civilizations and peoples through their ministry.

As for the former interpretation, that has always been my personal understanding given the most plain and simple reading of so many Latter-day Scriptures on the subject. I want to emphasize here that we should not blame or judge someone else for committing or attempting suicide or pursuing actions designed to shorten their life. The Church instructs us that “a person who [takes their own life] may not be responsible for his or her actions. Only God can fully understand and judge the situation.” Only God knows their circumstances, their mental state, their pain and suffering, their environment, and their heart.

I would never want my personal belief in enduring to the end to be used as a cudgel against people who are already immensely hurting to call them sinful or wrong. Enduring to the end is a personal matter. The only way I believe this part of the commandment applies to others is that we have a duty to bear up one another’s burdens (Galations 6:2; Mosiah 18:8-9) and do whatever we can do to help others endure instead of becoming yet another part of their life they have to endure.

I learned recently that many understand “enduring to the end” to mean never wavering from full, active membership and participation in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’ll admit that because I am an adult convert who did not grow up in the Church this definition never occurred to me, but it’s possible it’s what many others have been taught. And there are some Scriptures that seem to carry related meaning, such as Alma 38:2: “…I hope that you will continue in keeping his commandments; for blessed is he that endureth to the end.” The juxtaposition of those two ideas implies that enduring to the end means keeping the commandments. I believe this is a heavier and broader emphasis on obeying than the New Testament verses, which highlighted serving as a witness of the Lord specifically. In line with this interpretation, the Church’s Guide to the Scriptures defines “endure” as “To remain firm in a commitment to be true to the commandments of God despite temptation, opposition, and adversity.”

But other parts of the Latter-day Saint canon do not deviate much from Matthew and Mark. D&C 20:29 reads: “And we know that all men must repent and believe on the name of Jesus Christ, and worship the Father in his name, and endure in faith on his name to the end, or they cannot be saved in the kingdom of God.” This strikes me as a more detailed version of the New Testament verses, but it maintains the same spirit of the text. We must endure in faith on the name of Jesus Christ, but it says nothing about adherence to the Word of Wisdom or Temple attendance or tithing or other things that many now associate with enduring to the end.

In Moroni 3:3, ordination includes: “In the name of Jesus Christ I ordain you to be a priest (or if he be a teacher, I ordain you to be a teacher) to preach repentance and remission of sins through Jesus Christ, by the endurance of faith on his name to the end. Amen.” Here is yet another addition to our understanding of enduring to the end: by enduring with faith on the name of Jesus Christ to the end, we can access the power of repentance and remission of sins. Because repentance is not a one-time event but a necessarily ongoing process (after all, as imperfect beings we cannot help but continue to sin), it makes perfect sense to me that we must endure in faith to the end so we can repent until the end. Otherwise, we’re not accessing the full power of the Atonement and the blessings that come from continuing spiritual progression.

In my view, enduring to the end is a complex commandment with the space to hold multiple meanings and interpretations. It speaks to ideals such as long-term commitment and a willingness to do the harder right instead of take the easy way out – principles that are fundamentally opposed to the fickle instincts of the natural man. I hope that even as my understanding of what it means to endure to the end evolves during my own spiritual progression that I will continually have the strength and resilience to endure hard things for what I believe. What does enduring to the end mean to you?