Author Profile: Shawn Larsen
Author Archive for Shawn Larsen
But now, after 36 years of practice, I’m rethinking prayer. In the interest of full disclosure, let me say that I’m not a “lose the keys, pray for keys, find the keys” sort of guy by nature. When I hear those sorts of stories, I am more likely to roll my eyes than dab with a Kleenex. Nevertheless, I have a confession to make: I suffer from Enos Envy (E.E., for short).
Not too long ago, I sat through an Elders Quorum lesson about the First Vision. The teacher, who I like and who generally does a good job, was leading a paint-by-numbers sort of discussion (Q: “What do we learn from The First Vision”; A: “God has a body”). As usual for this topic, the lesson had its share of omissions (no mention of the other accounts) and historical missteps (“No one else in 1820 believed that God and Christ were separate beings”). All in all, it was a fairly typical meeting and, to be honest, I was zoning out.
But then, quite unexpectedly, the lesson took a decidedly more interesting turn. The instructor focused on one seemingly minor detail of Joseph’s account that, despite having read it dozens of times, came as a surprise to me: “He again forbade me to join with any of them; and many other things did he say unto me, which I cannot write at this time.” (JS-H 1:20).
To be honest, I had totally forgotten about Joseph’s private conversation with God. Of course, the notion of God forbidding his prophets from writing down something he has told or shown them is not new. But what makes this 15-word passage (which is not mentioned again in the History) particularly interesting is that Joseph never was shy about sharing what he felt had been revealed to him. Furthermore, as far as I know, he never revealed what “other things” God had told him during that experience.
The teacher then posed a question, which I now present for your consideration: what unwritten things do you think God said to Joseph at that moment?
In our current callings, my wife and I spend a lot of time digging through Church instruction manuals. I teach both the 12/13 year old Sunday School class (weekly) as well as Elders’ Quorum (once a month). My wife serves as the Laurels adviser, and is responsible for teaching at least a couple of lessons per month. Nearly everybody who has served in a teaching capacity can point to some instance in which they have viewed the correlated manual as lacking in some respect, be it too bland, too overly positive in its historical view, or just plain out of date (ever try getting kids to relate to John Taylor’s days as a woodcrafter?) Continue reading…
Here’s the one lesson I learned from my 3.5 year stint as an Elders Quorum President: never, ever aspire to be a Bishop. Seriously, it is a thankless job. To put a finer point on it, being a Bishop is an honest-to-goodness, up-to-40-hours-per-week, full-time thankless job. Not to mention the fact that the pay (-10%) is really lousy.
An evergreen subject here in the Bloggernacle, it seems, is the outing of “bad Bishops.” I cannot begin to count the number of posts and comments I have read over the past few years in which people have complained about all forms of mistreatment at the hands of a Bishop. These purported “bad Bishops” come in all forms, e.g., the ones who ask too many personal questions, the ones who don’t take time to get to know their members, the ones who visit too often, and the ones who don’t visit enough. Boiled down to their essence, these complaints amount to a disappointment that the mere mortal serving in one’s local ward does not meet the member’s idealized version of what a Bishop should be. When confronted with this dissonance, otherwise sensible bloggers across the ideological spectrum can whip themselves into a virtual lynch mob.
The purpose of this post is to bring a bit of balance to the discussion. To be clear, I believe that real ecclesiastical abuse can and does occur But I also wholeheartedly believe that truly “bad Bishops” are tiny minority. By contrast, I think most Bishops are regular guys, trying their hardest to make the best of what everyone admits is just about the toughest calling around. That has been my consistent observation throughout my 36 years as a proud wearer of the worker’s seal. It’s time we give these guys their due.
Here’s how the bedtime ritual usually goes at my house. After baths are finished, hair is combed and teeth are brushed, my family gathers for evening prayers. Each of my daughters takes a turn, with the oldest (7 years old) usually volunteering to go first. Without fail, her short prayers contain the following elements: (i) expressions of gratitude for “this day” and “our friends,” (ii) a request for a blessing that she have a “good night’s sleep,” (iii) a request that the Lord help us “find a new house” (we’re house hunting at the moment), and (iv) pleading that she and her sisters finally get a dog (FWIW — no deity is powerful enough to make me want a dog). Then strategy kicks in . . .
Many Church members consider Johnny Lingo to be the zenith of kitschy Mormon culture (for the uninitiated, you can see it here). When I was at BYU 15 years ago, I often ran into “wild and crazy” RMs sporting “Mahana, You Ugly” or “Wanted: Eight-Cow Woman” T-shirts. But for me, while Brother Lingo and his island crew hold a special place in my heart — along with that kid from the “Cipher in the Snow” — they pale in comparison to the granddaddy of all Mormon cheese: Saturday’s Warrior. For the sake of brevity, I will refrain from a detailed plot description; suffice it to say, it’s a dramedy about a young man’s struggle with temptation, that features wild-eyed teenaged representatives from the local chapter of the “Zero Population” movement, a wheelchair-bound dancer, an extended mediation on the size of the father’s nose, dozens of “friends,” and the most devastating “Dear John” letter ever written. It’s quite a ride!
For me, what sets “Saturday’s Warrior” apart from other Mormon entertainment is that, for better or worse, it has spawned several quasi-doctrinal ideas that still hold sway today. “Johnny Lingo,” “My Turn on Earth,” “It’s A Miracle” — they all preached generalized Christian messages, such as treat others kindly, don’t judge a book by its cover, etc. Only “Warrior” had the chutzpah to craft its own unique theology, courtesy of the Flinders clan.
I have long believed that the Church’s reliance on a lay clergy is both one of its strongest selling points, as well as one of its greatest weaknesses. On the hand, our DIY approach to religion results, among other things, in folks having a very personal stake in building the Kingdom, which is a plus. On the other hand, following a leader who is simply plucked from the congregation, without any formal training or indoctrination, can lead to the imposition of personal, non-doctrinal strictures (e.g., Stake Presidents banning beards and other such nonsense). This, of course, is too big a topic to cover well in a single post. So, I want to focus on one particular aspect of the lay clergy dynamic that has been on my mind lately — the role a member’s wealth (or lack thereof) can play on his/her worthiness to serve.
Unfortunately, a confluence of factors — vacation, increased tasks at work trying to make up for said vacation, shuttling daughters to and from various summer activities — has kept me out of the Mormon Matters community over the past few weeks. This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened to me. In every long-distance friendship, I’m the one who forgets to make the phone call, who doesn’t return the e-mail, and who eventually drops out of communication altogether, leaving the other party to the friendship wondering, “I wonder what happened to that dude.” Long story, short: don’t take it personally, friends. It’s me, not you 
Predictably, in my absence (which has been both busy and enjoyable), I have found myself missing our on-line conversation. Not so predictably, however. this feeling has led me to think quite a bit about (1) what keeps me coming back to MM and, more generally, to the Bloggernacle, and (2) what have I gained as a result of my participation. The first question is easy to answer — it’s the intellectual, emotional and, yes, spiritual stimulation I receive from the discussion. The second question, however, stuck in craw my quite some time. But, after much consideration, it boils to a simple, one-word answer . . .
Tired of talking about gay marriage? How about women and the Priesthood?
In all seriousness, let me share with you a recent experience that has had a profound impact on the way I view the concept of Priesthood, and that has convinced me, once and for all, that I am not the sole Priesthood bearer in my family. I believe it’s high time we recognized the service rendered by faithful LDS women as more than simply the fulfillment of a Relief Society assignment, or being a good visiting teacher. Such efforts constitute the righteous exercise of Priesthood power.
This one is for you parents and aspiring parents out there. How would you answer the following question: Is it more important to you that your child be “good,” or that he/she be “happy”? Hold on to your initial responses — I don’t think it’s such an easy question.
In a previous post, I explored the idea of defining “political” vs. “moral” issues for purposes of deciding when (and how) the Church should get formally involved. A related issue is whether we, even without formal instruction from the Church, are obligated to cast certain, pre-determined votes on select issues. Put another way, does my Mormonism require me to vote in favor of all manner of local referendum banning homosexual marriage? If so, how far does this unwritten rule go? And what about my free agency?
Beyond white shirts, facial hair and Coke — the Bloggernacle’s equivalent of the Holy Trinity — nothing gets Mormon bloggers’ collective knickers in a twist quite like the perception that they are forced into silence during the Sunday meeting block. On an almost daily basis, I run across posts and comments in which members bemoan the fact that, during their worship service, they feel unable to share with others (i) some nugget of non-correlated history, (ii) their left-of-center view on a theological point, or (iii) their discomfort with a cultural practice that has been adopted by the rest of the ward as a founding principle of the Gospel. I personally know folks (and you probably do, too) who have reduced their activity level because they do not agree with lessons being taught. For example, a buddy of mine has bowed out of Gospel Doctrine altogether because he cannot get behind the idea of a literal flood in the Bible account of Noah.
As a bearded Mormon history nerd with a head full of non-traditional opinions, I empathize with these feelings. I, too, have stifled comments in Elders’ Quorum for fear of rocking the boat or derailing an otherwise by-the-book lesson. Just like you, I have simmered quietly while others expressed opinions that I found offensive. But, at the risk of biting the digital hand that feeds me, I’m here to say, I’ve grown weary of the complaints. Enough is enough, already. It’s time for us all to put up or shut up!
Unless your last name is Van Winkle, you likely already know that, yesterday afternoon, the California Supreme Court concluded that the state’s law prohibiting same-sex marriage (SSM, for short) is unconstitutional. Put more simply, in 30 days, SSM will be a reality in California. For those of us here on the Left Coast, things are about to get very interesting. Within hours of the ruling, Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, without a hint of irony, told a gathering of reporters: “I plan to marry as many people as I can.”
Like many others, I’m still working my way through the 100+ page opinion. We lawyers sure love our footnotes, and one in particular has got me thinking. To be clear, I am no fundamentalist Mormon, and I certainly am not bucking for the opportunity to bring another set of problems wife into my happy family. But I can’t help but be annoyed by the apparent fact that, over a century later, courts are still content to rely on outdated and prejudicial attitudes towards Mormon polygamy.
The general election is looming, which means that soon, we here in the U.S. will be hearing an official First Presidency statement in our wards regarding the Church’s political neutrality. You’ve heard the mantra before: the Church does not get involved in political issues, but it does take a stand on moral questions. Despite its seeming simplicity, this statement raises a host of unanswered questions regarding the wisdom of Church involvement in domestic political movements, and its seeming unwillingness to get involved in issues affecting Saints in other parts of the world.
If you spend any time here in the Bloggernacle, or leafing through the pages of any number of “alternate voices,” you are bound to encounter Eugene England. A founder of Dialogue, England — a former Bishop, LDS missionary, and BYU Professor — is a patron saint of the Mormon intellectual community, oft-revered as “our greatest essayist.” But for all of our lip service, we — as a Church and as an Internet community — could still learn a thing or two by actually putting his more challenging philosophies into practice.
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