Gob smacked. Flabbergasted. Astonished. All over a simple apology.

Dear Bishop-

Last week we had a speaker in church who, from the pulpit, said some pretty demeaning and hurtful things about women, about the LGBTQ+ community, and about several social justice issues in general. I used my agency and removed myself and my daughter from the chapel and I wrote about the experience in my last post. I upheld the promise I made to all my children, to not listen to beliefs from the pulpit, or anywhere really, that speak of intolerance, hate, or that otherwise influence my ability to testify of Christ nor worship in a place that tries to deny me the authority to hear only things that are good with my soul.

That said, I went to church the following Sunday, disappointed in my experience the previous week and wondering why I’d come to church at all. That might seem hyperbolic to you, that one talk would push me out the doors of a religion I have spent my entire life learning about, serving in, finding peace from, and loving my experiences at, but what you need to recognize is that my weekly experience isn’t singular, but cumulative. It is both a testimony of and a challenge with EVERYTHING I have heard over the past four decades that have caused doubt, distrust, disbelief, disagreement, and dissatisfaction with my LDS faith, not just the one talk. The one talk was just the looming straw that threatened to break the camel’s back. Honestly, I attend each week wondering if the final straw will fall that day. I attend church each week hoping to feel enlightened when I leave, but often I feel a sinking heaviness.

And Bishop, I don’t think it’s just me who feels the heaviness.

A few weeks ago I had a Youth reach out to me to say thank you for always speaking up about things others don’t want to talk about at church. The youth said, “I haven’t been able to feel the spirit lately at church. I wish I could feel my testimony growing, but I haven’t in a long time.” 

Then again, after a difficult Relief Society lesson a couple weeks ago, a random sister approached me. I had left the lesson feeling perplexed and bothered. As the class was ending, I asked a sincere question and the teacher answered with a generic version of, “Well the scriptures say so, and that is that.” A woman with a lot of authority amongst the sisters, wise in her years of experience, reached out to me and said she also struggled with the lesson and the matter of fact, black or white way it was presented. I felt validated by someone who I normally don’t see eye to eye with, and it was satisfying. No sooner did I feel things were tolerable, we had this recent sacrament speaker. It sometimes feels like coming to church is a roller coaster I ride blindly, never knowing which twists and turns are headed my way and how my soul will tolerate the movement, the shifts, the unexpected freefalls.

But Sunday came, the youth speaker said her words, and then you stood up to speak. My daughter and I instantly looked at each other because lately there hasn’t been time for the intermediate hymn, our favorite part of sacrament meeting, so we were rolling our eyes at our lack of opportunity to sing off key and stretch our arms and legs a little bit. We were too quick to jump to conclusions, and in the aftermath, I apologize. Bishop, as you started to speak, I felt my eyes open a little wider. My heart skipped a beat. My husband was out of town, and I immediately texted him and said, “Tune into the online link for sacrament meeting, the Bishop is addressing last week’s sacrament meeting debacle.”

I wish I had taken notes. I don’t have your exact words moving through the rest of my thoughts, but I have the impressions left on my heart and that is what I wanted to write about to you today.

In fact, the day after you spoke, I sent you a little note saying basically that I was grateful for your words and appreciated you stepping up to right some wrong words.

But Bishop, your words have settled into my bones, and I wanted to share that impact with you. 

When you first started to speak, you referenced a talk by Elder Rasband, “Words Matter.” As you started to speak you mentioned several people had reached out to you after church last week. That was the first win of the day because, for once, the “people reached out” category wasn’t me. You spoke about how indeed, words matter, and hurtful words were said from the pulpit last week. You had my attention. I am famous in my house for drafting and sending “strongly worded emails.” But for this instance, I just didn’t have it in me. Plus, what could a bishop do in the aftermath of a speaker from another ward? The experience collectively was both a reminder to me to always speak up, and that I am not alone in my beliefs. There are other allies around me, even if I might not know which pew they sit in. It was extremely validating, but more than validating, it was comforting. I felt a sense of community I don’t usually feel when I attend church.

You proceeded to talk about the two categories of offensive comments made by last week’s speaker, one being the words said about the value (or rather, devaluing) of women and two being the words about the LGBTQ+ community. 

You apologized.

You apologized for not realizing in the moment, as the presiding authority of the meeting, the hurt being spewed and how you wish you had realized in the moment that you could have stood up afterwards, and if nothing else, testified of God’s love for everyone and at least brought back the Spirit that quickly left when this speaker started talking. You apologized for not doing something to bring back the Spirit to close out the meeting.

Then you proceeded to preach doctrine. The doctrine of Christ. The doctrine of love for everyone. The value of everyone being a child of God and the purpose of all God’s children to come to earth, get a body, contribute to the world, serve and be served, love and be loved.

Then you apologized for the many hurt feelings felt across the congregation. 

I have been a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for thirty-eight years and never once have I seen someone take responsibility at the pulpit in the way that you did. 

I cannot convey what that did for my testimony and for the testimony of my family, especially my daughter, who walked out with me last week. All afternoon, and the following day I found myself anxious to think and ponder about gospel things. I felt the Spirit. I felt purpose in my worship. I felt like I was able to acknowledge that what was being said from the pulpit was good for my soul. I was listening to a podcast the other week and the speaker mentioned that so often we are clear on what we want our spirituality and worship to exclude, but it is harder to determine what we want our spirituality to include. That notion has been percolating in my mind for weeks and you taught me something today that my heart always knew but that my mind had never articulated. You taught me that a non-negotiable element of my own spiritual experience is accountability. In YW I was taught about the concept of “choice and accountability” and I bought into it wholeheartedly. I learned and embraced that I have agency to choose, and that gift is precious. I know that I am accountable for my actions and the choices I make. I have been taught since primary that while I can’t be responsible for the consequences of actions, I can be accountable for them. What I realized is that over the decades, so much of my spiritual encounters have been focused on my own accountability, for which I take full responsibility. I embrace the gift that is our agency and the accompanying responsibility that is our commandment around accountability. However, what has been lacking in my spiritual experience is the accountability from my spiritual leaders. Understanding that I have the authority to know what I need and don’t need, Bishop, you taught me that I need accountability to flow both ways in my spiritual experience. I have not been able to articulate that previously and you taught me this important principle.

I have been taught in Matthew not to hide my light under a bushel. Years of leaders, teachers, and missionaries encouraging me as a disciple to let my light shine and share my testimony with others. Regularly from the pulpit I am encouraged and even occasionally admonished to share some of my private thoughts related to the Savior very publicly. But in my experience as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, when public offenses have occurred, IF there is an apology, it is often encouraged to be handled privately.

I think there is value in not hiding our accountability under a bushel either. If agency empowers us to choose, accountability ensures we answer for those choices, and part of that is transparency. There are a lot of conversations about transparency and accountability around issues related to the Church and I guess I am getting old, because I assume on a macro level that will likely never happen in my lifetime. But Bishop, you restored some of my faith with your local apology and instruction.

And in the same way there are some who have been discouraged by various aspects of church lately, I felt obligated to share there were many of us who were encouraged by your actions. Some of us who will re-up our willingness to hang around, to serve, to grow, and to seek our Savior because you addressed the situation head on.

I am grateful for your leadership in this matter, your delicacy with the relationships you have stewardship over, and the doctrine you were able to correct as part of your God given authority. In a way, it feels absurd the amount of attention I have given this 20 minute of my life. But it has also felt telling. I will always remember this sacrament meeting and lessons I learned about what leaders can do to acknowledge spiritual wrongs, about how empowering and spiritually motivating accountability from others can be when sincerely offered. During that sacrament meeting, you spoke words that helped heal my soul, and for that I am truly grateful.

In solidarity through Christ,

Sis. Clemmer

P.S.- Please consider telling your other friends with authority to follow your lead. Encourage them to be accountable when they or others they are presiding over misstep (or are flagrantly offensive). Those leaders will be amazed at the support from often alienated congregants will spill over into everything else those members are willing to do to support the work of the Lord, including sustaining their own individual testimonies.

Addendum: This was written the week after my previous post was shared. Two weeks later the Bishop was released. For clarification, the change had been in the works for several weeks as his five-year stint was coming to a close. I am not implying his release was because of the talk. I am simply sharing that I am disappointed I won’t get to hear more from an ally.