In this episode, Mormon Matters host Dan Wotherspoon and panelists Joanna Brooks, Tresa Edmunds, and Jacob Baker examine Mormon prayer as it functions in LDS communal life and typical praxis, as well as discuss perspectives and practices they have incorporated or have been made aware of in their own journeys or wider reading and experiences. At several points in the podcast, they also pay particular attention to prayer as a possible praxis even for those undergoing faith crisis or transition, and who may have lost confidence in previous views of what God is like–or even if there is a God.

After listening, we very much hope you’ll share your experiences and perspectives in the comment section below.

_____

Links to things of possible interest:

Jacob Baker’s blog post about getting to know God and God getting to know us that was on the show.

Tresa Edmund’s blog post about being “prayed over” by her son’s therapists

“Approaching Prayer” episode of Speaking of Faith (now On Being). The whole show is wonderful, but the Roberta Bondi section mentioned by Dan during the podcast begins about 36 minutes in.

In this episode, Mormon Matters host Dan Wotherspoon and panelists Jennifer Finlayson-Fife, Chelsea Fife, and Michael Fife discuss these tensions, their possible origins, and the reasons for the ascendance of “obedience to leaders” rhetoric and a focus on performing activities that yield more easily measurable results. They also explore the call to deeper discipleship and the understandings and pathways that help keep the ideal of free agents freely submitting to the divine will based upon their own relationship with God. The primary questions underlying the discussion are: What is spiritual maturity? How can we work toward it and come to live joyfully in a church culture that doesn’t always encourage us to grow too far beyond “I Am a Child of God”? How do we become “adults” of God? How do we remember always that the true call is not to remain children but to mature to the point where we are ready to become brides of Christ, full partners with God, partakers of the eternal life?

After listening, please share your ideas in the comments section below!

Feminist readers of the scriptures are well aware of the passages in Proverbs 8 which personify Wisdom (GK Sophia, HEB Hokhmah).
These passages affirm that Sophia was there when God made the earth and acted as a partner with God in the creation. This idea fits in well with my conceptualization of the male/female duality of the Divine. The passages can be interpreted as instructions to the earnest seeker to discover and follow the promptings of a Heavenly Mother:

The LORD possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old.
I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was.
When there were no depths, I was brought forth;
When there were no fountains abounding with water.
Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was I brought forth:
While as yet he had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest part of the dust of the world.
When he prepared the heavens, I was there:
When he set a compass upon the face of the depth:
When he established the clouds above:
When he strengthened the fountains of the deep:
When he gave to the sea his decree, that the waters should not pass his commandment:
When he appointed the foundations of the earth:
Then I was by him, as one brought up with him: and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him;
Rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth;
And my delights were with the sons of men.
Now therefore hearken unto me, O ye children:
For blessed are they that keep my ways.
Hear instruction, and be wise, and refuse it not.
Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors.
For whoso findeth me findeth life, and shall obtain favour of the LORD. (Prov. 8:23-35)

If we are ever going to discuss the Divine Feminine in our 2010 Old Testament study, this is the lesson to do it. Many biblical scholars feel that the personification of Wisdom in the Proverbs represents a female Divinity.  In these verses Sophia addresses Israel as her children with the authority of a Divine Being, and has great power and dominion.   She is a “tree of life” (Prov. 3:18), connecting her with other Near-Eastern deities as well as the source of eternal life in the Book of Mormon.

In the scriptures, there is additional female imagery which tends to support the existence of a feminine counterpart to God. I hesitate to use them as proof-texts for a Mother in Heaven. These passages can just as well be interpreted to mean that a male Deity has loving and nurturing characteristics. However, if one believes, as I do, that “Elohim” consists of both a Mother and a Father God, the verses that follow add welcome insight into possible roles and characteristics of a Divine Mother Goddess.

One of the early titles for God in the Old Testament is El Shaddai. This word has been translated “Almighty God,” or “God of the Mountains.” It may have linguistic ties to the word “breast,” prompting some to translate El Shaddai as “the breasted One.” Though I might not go as far as to use this translation, I enjoy the word play which is typical of Hebrew writing and which connects this title of God to breasts and nurturing. In the language used in Jacob’s blessing to his son Joseph in Genesis 49, El Shaddai gives him

“blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lieth under, blessings of the breasts, and of the womb: The blessings of thy father have prevailed above the blessings of my progenitors unto the utmost bound of the hills: they shall be on the head of Joseph, and on the crown of the head of him that was separate from his brethren.”

Isaiah uses many feminine images of God in his writings. Consider the following:

• Isaiah 42:14–a woman in labor whose forceful breath is an image of divine power.
• Isaiah 46:3-4–a mother who births and protects Israel.
• Isaiah 49:14-15–a mother who does not forget the child she nurses.
• Isaiah 66:12-13–a mother who comforts her children.

The following poem in Hosea 11:1-4 is in the first person, presenting God as a mother who calls, teaches, holds, heals, and feeds her son.

When Israel was a child, I loved him,
And out of Egypt I called My son.
The more I called them, the more they went from me;
They sacrificed to the Baals,
And burned incense to carved images.
Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms;
but they did not know that I healed them.
I drew them with gentle cords,
With bands of love,
And I was to them as those who take the yoke from their neck.
I stooped and fed them.

It is possible that Hosea is indirectly presenting God as mother over against the fertility goddess of the Canaanite religion that he is challenging.
Interestingly, Hosea presents God as the husband figure in Hosea chapter 4, and the mother figure in chapter 11. These paired images suggest the male/female duality of God.

Searching for feminine images in the scriptures is a fruitful pursuit. There are many other examples too numerous to list here. I realize that different conclusions can be drawn from the presence of the Divine Feminine in scripture. Some faith traditions have posited that God is genderless, yet “accommodates to human limitations by using physical, relational, gender-laden images for self-disclosure.” Others believe that God is solely masculine and patriarchal but possesses qualities that we culturally see as feminine.  My inclination is to picture “Elohim” as a God consisting of both a male and female element.  I present this view as one which aligns with the Proclamation on the Family where it affirms the eternal nature of gender:

“All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.”

Images by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

Here’s the talk in a nutshell:

1. Why we need the spirit.
   • “Throughout the ages, many have obtained guidance helpful to resolve challenges in their lives by following the example of respected individuals who resolved similar problems. Today, world conditions change so rapidly that such a course of action is often not available to us.”  I think E. Scott just admitted that old folks haven’t necessarily “been there, done that.”  It’s kind of a radical thing for an octogenarian to say.  Frankly, I’m not sure all 80-somethings would admit that.  Kudos, E. Scott!
   • “Personally, I rejoice in that reality because it creates a condition where we, of necessity, are more dependent upon the Spirit to guide us through the vicissitudes of life. Therefore, we are led to seek personal inspiration in life’s important decisions.”  So, he’s saying we shouldn’t do things just because of tradition or what others who are older tell us to do, but we should find out for ourselves the best course.  Personal accountability–one, blind obedience to authority–zero!
   • “Spirituality yields two fruits. The first is inspiration to know what to do. The second is power, or the capacity to do it. These two capacities come together.”  Features & benefits of the Spirit.
2. How to get the Spirit.
   • “I am convinced that there is no simple formula or technique that would immediately allow you to master the ability to be guided by the voice of the Spirit.”  Decrying a formulaic approach to spirituality.  Down with checklists!  Spirituality is personal and subjective.
   • “Our Father expects you to learn how to obtain that divine help by exercising faith in Him and His Holy Son, Jesus Christ. Were you to receive inspired guidance just for the asking, you would become weak and ever more dependent on Them. They know that essential personal growth will come as you struggle to learn how to be led by the Spirit.”  I love the notion that we are supposed to live up to our potential, not just let others make decisions for us.
   • “Your confidence in the direction you receive from the Holy Ghost will also become stronger. I witness that as you gain experience and success in being guided by the Spirit, your confidence in the impressions you feel can become more certain than your dependence on what you see or hear.”  There’s a little bit of implied confirmation bias here, but by the same token, it’s how we develop decision-making ability and intuition:  through experience.  We learn what works and what doesn’t.
   • E. Scott shares 2 contrasting teacher styles and how each resulted in inspiration for him.  While the contrasting examples seem designed to reinforce the correlation committee’s guidelines (the first teacher stuck to the materials and the second one used archane and unusual references), both lessons resulted in personal spiritual guidance for E. Scott.  Of the second experience, E. Scott shared:  “I received such an outpouring of impressions that were so personal that I felt it was not appropriate to record them in the midst of a Sunday School class. I sought a more private location, where I continued to write the feelings that flooded into my mind and heart as faithfully as possible.”  I’m pretty sure he just admitted to ditching Sunday School to write in his journal.
   • “Impressions of the Spirit can come in response to urgent prayer or unsolicited when needed.”  I think it’s hard to chalk it up to the Spirit when it could be confirmation bias – unsolicited one-off ideas are more easily attributable to the Spirit, IMO.
   • “However, the Lord will not force you to learn. You must exercise your agency to authorize the Spirit to teach you. As you make this a practice in your life, you will be more perceptive to the feelings that come with spiritual guidance. Then, when that guidance comes, sometimes when you least expect it, you will recognize it more easily.”  Part of this does strike me as confirmation bias; however, I have experienced an unexpected idea to do something that if I followed it worked out, and sometime I have not and it didn’t work out.  To me, that’s the spirit.
3.  What prevents us from getting the Spirit.
   • “The inspiring influence of the Holy Spirit can be overcome or masked by strong emotions, such as anger, hate, passion, fear, or pride. When such influences are present, it is like trying to savor the delicate flavor of a grape while eating a jalapeño pepper. Both flavors are present, but one completely overpowers the other. In like manner, strong emotions overcome the delicate promptings of the Holy Spirit.”  I like the analogy.  The idea sounds true enough.
   • “Sin is spiritually corrosive. Unrestrained it becomes all-consuming. It is overcome by repentance and righteousness.  Satan is extremely good at blocking spiritual communication by inducing individuals, through temptation, to violate the laws upon which spiritual communication is founded.”  So, sin is bad then . . . right?
   • “With some, he is able to convince them that they are not able to receive such guidance from the Lord.”  I think this is a real issue for people.  I think many have these high-falutin notions of what constitutes “the Spirit” and anything short of meeting JC on the road to Damascus isn’t cutting it.  I think that’s a misunderstanding.  If you re-read E. Scott’s talk and substitute the word “instinct” or “inspiration” for “the Spirit,” you can get a real sense for how commonplace these experiences are.
   • “Satan has become a master at using the addictive power of pornography to limit individual capacity to be led by the Spirit.”  Let’s not make this a porn post, shall we?  But the rest of the talk is basically about how porn makes it impossible to recognize the Spirit.  Personally, I’m no fan of porn, and I think the point is valid.  Porn’s blocking of spiritual guidance is not the worst of its influence in society.  On the subject, E. Scott waxes eloquent.  Anyway, ’nuff said on porn.  Moving on.  Nothing to see here.

Here are some points I think worth discussing from the talk:

1. Does this jive with your experience feeling the Spirit or inspiration or whatever you kids are calling it these days?
2. Do you like the idea that you can be equally inspired in a lesson regardless the instructor?  I found these examples fascinating; although ostensibly the “not as good” instructor was “out of policy,” it had no adverse impact on the spiritual guidance received.  Doesn’t that mean that maybe we can quit wringing our hands over this?  Does that make church a BYOS (Bring Your Own Spirit) institution?  I say yes.
3. Have you ever felt the Spirit when in the throes of strong emotion?  If so, let’s have the deets!
4. Overall, did you like the talk or not?  I am of the opinion that not all talks are for all people.  This one was one I happened to like, but that doesn’t mean everyone should.

Discuss.

In C.S. Lewis’ final Narnia book The Last Battle, there is a powerful scene of an encounter between the Christ-symbolizing lion Aslan and Emeth, a noble-minded worshipper of the false Calormene demon-god Tash:

“[The Lion] touched my forehead…and said, Son, thou art welcome.  But I said, Alas Lord, I am no son of thine but the servant of Tash.  He answered, Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me.  Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true…that thou and Tash are one?  The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false.  Not because he and I aer one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him.  For he and I are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him.  Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath’s sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him.  And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted.”

Needless to say, a certain type of Christian evangelical is appalled by this.  I read an essay (by someone who evidently has reading-comprehension problems) arguing that by Lewis’s logic, Osama bin Laden’s diligence in pursuit of what he understands to be his religious duty must be credited as salvific worship of Christ.

And there is a danger, in seeking to be courteous to people who believe fundamentally different things from our own faith, to drift into seeming to say that there is no absolute truth — that all religious traditions are equally valid, that all religious roads lead to God, and the like.  And in fact, the varieties of religious experience are often used by folk-postmodernists to argue there is no absolute truth — that all truths are simply fronts for cultural biases, interests, or power relations.  However — although there is more of a common core of shared moral truth, across many diverse cultures, than often gets acknowledged – the truth claims of different religious traditions are often mutually exclusive.  In the case of Christianity and Islam, for example, Jesus Christ was either a prophet, or the incarnate God.  He can’t be both.  So the only way that “all religious teachings can be equally valid” is for none of them to be valid.  They obtain whatever fiction of validity they have, only from what they are given by their adherents.  Asking, like Joseph Smith, “Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together?”  (JS-H 1:10), the vernacular relativist concludes the answer must be “all wrong together.”  Otherwise, we’d have to privilege one faith claim above another — and in a pluralist society, we certainly can’t have that.  Wouldn’t be courteous.

But it does not follow, from the fact that finding the absolute truth is so difficult that different people, exercising the best of their imperfect judgment, reach different conclusions, that there is no absolute truth.  It is possible that, among all the “contests of these parties of religionists,” somebody is actually right — or more right than others.  Christians give the assent of faith to the proposition that Christ “is the way, the Truth, and the life; no man cometh to the Father except by [Him].”  (John 14:6.)  We are committed to believing that there is one absolute Truth, and that it includes the basic fact that the salvation of humanity rests on Christ crucified.

How can faith in an exclusive Truth be reconciled with religious pluralism, not to mention God’s justice, in a world where the accidents of birth are probably the greatest factor that determines what religion a person practices?

I think C.S. Lewis was on to something with his parable of Emeth — whose name is Hebrew for “Truth.”  I think of Matthew 26:32-46, where the sheep are divided from from the goats.  The scripture seems to indicate that at least some of the sheep are surprised at being sheep:  “Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee?  or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?  Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?  And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

The Catholic theologian Karl Rahner, who was one of the major influences in the restatement of Catholic doctrine at the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s, articulated a concept he called “Anonymous Christianity”:

“Anonymous Christianity means that a person lives in the grace of God and attains salvation outside of explicitly constituted Christianity — Let us say, a Buddhist monk — who, because he follows his conscience, attains salvation and lives in the grace of God; of him I must say that he is an anonymous Christian; if not, I would have to presuppose that there is a genuine path to salvation that really attains that goal, but that simply has nothing to do with Jesus Christ. But I cannot do that. And so, if I hold if everyone depends upon Jesus Christ for salvation, and if at the same time I hold that many live in the world who have not expressly recognized Jesus Christ, then there remains in my opinion nothing else but to take up this postulate of an anonymous Christianity.”

The Catholic Church subsequently adopted the substance of Rahner’s thinking.  The Church’s Dogmatic Constitution Lumen Gentium provides,

“Those also can attain to everlasting salvation who through no fault of their own do not know the gospel of Christ or his Church, yet sincerely seek God and, moved by grace, strive by their deeds to do his will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience.”

The present Catechism now provides,

“Those who through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or His Church, but who nevertheless seek God with a sincere heart, and, moved by grace, try in their actions to do his will as they know it through the dictates of their conscience—those too may achieve eternal salvation.”

The declaration Dominus Iesus (criticized by some religious liberals for, evidently, not abandoning altogether the Catholic Church’s proclamation that it is the one true church), stated,

“Nevertheless, God, who desires to call all peoples to himself in Christ and to communicate to them the fullness of his revelation and love, “does not fail to make himself present in many ways, not only to individuals, but also to entire peoples through their spiritual riches, of which their religions are the main and essential expression even when they contain ‘gaps, insufficiencies and errors”. Therefore, the sacred books of other religions, which in actual fact direct and nourish the existence of their followers, receive from the mystery of Christ the elements of goodness and grace which they contain.”

Mormonism, of course, may have anticipated this doctrine (or a version of it) with the doctrine of proxy ordinance work for the dead.  Although there has been controversy on the point, many LDS authorities suggest that even those who have had the gospel presented to them in this life, but rejected it for good-faith reasons, may obtain to salvation.

Some consider the doctrine of “Anonymous Christianity” to be condescending:  Jews, Muslims, and Buddhists, goes this argument, don’t want to be saved as “anonymous” or honorary Christians; they should insist on being saved qua Jews, Muslims, or Buddhists.  In my view, “Anonymous Christianity” is as far as a revealed religion can possibly go and remain anything like itself.

However, “Anonymous Christianity” has a potentially startling flip side:  Just as a noble-minded Muslim, who follows the truly holy aspects of his religion, may have his inherently holy actions counted as worship of Christ, isn’t it also at least conceivably possible that I — by practicing the noble truths contained in my Mormon variety of Christianity — could be an “anonymous Buddhist?”  We tend to view even entertaining the possibility that the things to which we give the assent of faith may not be in every respect exactly as we understand them as a kind of infidelity, but is it really so?  To have effective faith in something, do we really have to know it with every fiber of our being, or say that we do?

My faith is in Christ, exercised within the framework of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I have reason to believe — or, more precisely, I choose to believe that certain experiences, whose actual import I may not be able to know with certainty, give me reason to believe — that God is pleased that I exercise faith in this way.  It may be that this is because the Gospel, as it it has been made known to me, is 100% true, to the exclusion of all contrary traditions — or it may be because my faith contains enough of the true God’s truth to suffice.

The emphasis on the “physicality of God” even in the spiritual realm grew in concert with notions of the Eternal Family and its role and function in achieving and living in Celestial Glory. The elaboration of this theology was natural as the early church leadership began to push, even if at first secretly, new forms of marriage and family life, but it was not an inevitable evolution of the theology of the 1830 Restoration. For example, no one in the Community of Christ expects that the afterlife is about progressing to populate new worlds with our own spiritual offspring, as Heavenly Father populated our own world. In one denomination, it is the Heavenly Father; in the other it is Heavenly Father, with the seldom spoken inference that there may be Heavenly Mother lurking in the theology as well.

Today, because of this history, Mormons have a well-integrated belief system about how and why the Divine interacts with the physical universe that, nevertheless, is very different from its “prairie cousins”, let alone in comparison to more distantly related Christian denominations. As a prairie cousin with an abiding interest in the theological role of the physical, this fascinates me. LDS theology raises questions about the limits of acceptable definitions of “children of God”, and what God might do to see His children come out on top that would never occur to me in CofChrist theology. These are the kinds of questions I’d like to ask openly in this post.

Let’s look at extreme cases first, and then try to focus in on cases closer to home.

We know that the universe is a violent place. Creation is violent itself, and often involves destruction on scales we can barely comprehend. My favorite example is the “Death Star Galaxy”. We have in that example a small galaxy – a mere few billion stars is small – that has wandered into a radiation jet being emitted by a larger galaxy. The jet is obliterating thousands of solar systems, and any life there, as we watch by telescope.

What does that tell us? Are planets with life so rare that God can let planets be destroyed wholesale without moral consequences? Or perhaps there are not moral consequences because the life there is not human and thus has no spirits? Either way, would God be able to “write off” a great deal of reality under LDS theology because His “children” weren’t involved? He just has to watch over those special few worlds ideal for humanity. The worlds with just the right size, at just the right distance from stars of the proper temperature and age, with the proper orbital stability and a big brother planet like Jupiter nearby to protect against too frequent impacts from comets. The list of requirements is lengthy, but with infinite space to play around in, they’re bound to pop up here and there even if God doesn’t directly favor them with a helping hand.

Or perhaps God has to actively “weed out” competition for his favored species. You could interpret the evidence that way, too. Consider the destruction of the dinosaurian ecosystems 65 million years ago, or the even more catastrophic Permian extinction scores of millions of years still earlier. Our existence and physical forms today depend in complex, but critical, ways on details of those events. For example, the locations within their general orbits of all the inner planets of our solar system, including the earth, are known to be chaotic on only the order of 5 million years. Start out an orbital simulation with the earth relocated by as little as a millimeter, and in 5 million years, the earth could be on the other side of the sun. A “miracle” performed a hundred million years ago that protects humanity from destruction by asteroid strike or clears the world of big reptilians so mammals (and man) can take over could be too small to notice. Far easier than Moses calling on God to make the sun stand still during battle or parting the Red Sea.

What LDS theology would define to be human gets tougher to distinguish as we get closer to humanity. How close? Well, within the last few weeks, evidence has been published on the results of sequencing Neanderthal DNA. The evidence, first reported in Science, but more accessible here at Science News, shows that modern humans whose lines remained in Africa do not share Neandertal DNA. However, all of the rest of us get one to four percent of our genes from interbreeding with Neandertals that occurred after leaving Africa 45,000 or so years ago. We don’t carry Neandertal body types, but we do seem to carry something important from that population in our internal chemistry and in our brains. Eternal Family reunions might be more surprising than our expectations.

So, did the Neandertals die out because our body type was a little more divine than theirs? Or were the ones who bred with Homo sapiens the more righteous ones? Or do we extend the moral capability and need for redemption to an extinct species at all? Do we instead decide that we are all descended from ancestors who practiced bestiality? Were physical specimens of humans who had no Spirits walking around contemporaneously with Adam?

Look closer now as we get to Biblical or Jaredite times. Now we picture God as acting in detail to favor one nation over another, one individual over another. We try to point to specific reasons for that favoritism in terms of justice, mercy, or obedience in this life or in preexistence, and we can often convince ourselves that such reasons exist. I could argue a very good case, for example, that slaughter of entire Canaanite cities down to the last child might actually produce fewer casualties in the long run.

But the more uncomfortable I become unless I make the case in such terms, the more I realize that tying God’s plan of salvation to things other than intelligence, or justice, or mercy, or obedience – properties that have little to do with the shape or functions of my body – raises doubts. Wouldn’t exalted beings give up such narrow notions of the boundaries of humanity as part of the progression toward exaltation itself?

So I look at the criteria with which we define relationships with God through their physical manifestations – species, race, gender, diet, clothes – and I wonder. Is God really concerned about those things when He decides to claim His children. Or are we just engaging in a very destructive and provincial form of sibling rivalry?

In my Father’s house are many mansions. Maybe some reefs and rookeries, too. Maybe some hives for natural clones or collective minds.

And if that’s true, then certainly there are places for Homo sapiens with same-sex attraction, or childless couples, or singles – every form of Eternal Family we might imagine from the occurrence of those forms here on earth.

When someone has been disappointed and broken, it affects all of his or her relationships. A broken heart could just be the cause of that cutting remark someone made to you, or even the rude gesture someone made out of a car window.  There’s a passage in the Old Testament that really comforts me when I am feeling the weight of loneliness and sorrow that sometimes comes over me.  It also comes to mind when I’m wondering how I can possibly make a difference in someone’s life who is hurting so badly.  Here’s my poetic interpretation of Isaiah 61:1-3:

He hath sent me to bind up the broken,
To cry to the captives: Behold, ye are free!
‘Tis the year of Jehovah’s good graces
Then eyes that are fettered, at last they shall see.
Day of our God’s just avenging:
All mourners in Zion shall comforted be.

I shall give to them beauty for ashes,
The oil of rejoicing in place of pain,
The garment of praise for sad spirit;
That strong trees of righteousness they might remain.
Oaks of Jehovah’s own planting,
That ever may be for His glory and gain!
(BiV’s Isaiah 61:1-3)

In the Garden of Eden narrative, we are taught that there is an opposite to everything.  Joy and sorrow are opposites, so are pleasure and pain. When Adam and Eve partook of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, their eyes were opened and they were able to experience all of these things.  In the Isaiah passage above, it speaks of eyes being opened through the experiencing of some of these opposites: beauty/ashes, rejoicing/pain, praise/sadness.  These figures show us the value of living in a world where suffering exists.  A broken heart opens us to insights that we wouldn’t be able to see without it.

The Messiah figure in this passage also opens us up to embrace dependence.  I think humans have a tendency to adulate self-reliance.  With this comes pride and even solitude.  As we become more open to dependence — on Divine guidance, on a Savior and on each other, we learn love and community.  These are things which can heal the brokenness that is a part of living in a fallen world.  Isaiah 61 is a Messianic prophecy which teaches of a Savior who is sent forth by God’s spirit to replace pain with rejoicing, to give beauty for ashes.  But it also teaches us that we can go forth in the same spirit to bind up the broken.

I heard a story about a young man who proclaimed to have the most beautiful, flawless heart. As the crowd watched, he bared his chest to show a shining, golden, perfectly shaped heart.  Then an old man challenged him.  He came forward to show the crowd what his heart looked like.  It was beating strongly, but was misshapen and full of holes and scars.  It appeared that some pieces had been removed and others had been put in, but didn’t fit quite right. The old man looked at the young man, “I would never trade my heart for yours. Every scar represents a person I’ve given my love — I tear out a piece and give it to them. Sometimes they give me a piece of their broken heart, which I fit along jagged edges. When the person doesn’t return my love, a painful gouge is left. Those gouges stay open, reminding me that I love these people too. Perhaps someday they will return and fill that space.”

Over the years, my heart has come to resemble that old man’s.  What a Messiah means to me is recognizing this connectedness and interdependence.  It is knowing I am not as complete with a golden flawless heart that has never felt the great wrenchings.  It is opening myself to love and sorrow and rejection and recognizing that I can’t do it all on my own.  And then it is doing my best to give others a piece of my heart to help heal theirs.

From the Op-Ed (you can mentally replace some of the Catholic references with “Mormon” if that helps):

there seem to be two Catholic Churches, the old boys’ club of the Vatican and the grass-roots network of humble priests, nuns and laity in places like Sudan. The Vatican certainly supports many charitable efforts, and some bishops and cardinals are exemplary, but overwhelmingly it’s at the grass roots that I find the great soul of the Catholic Church

It’s because of brave souls like these that I honor the Catholic Church. I understand why many Americans disdain a church whose leaders are linked to cover-ups and antediluvian stances on women, gays and condoms — but the Catholic Church is far larger than the Vatican.

And unless we’re willing to endure beatings alongside Father Michael, unless we’re willing to stand up to warlords with Sister Cathy, we have no right to disparage them or their true church.

Personally, I find the highs are often higher in Catholicism because of the nature of “vocation”; nuns and priests literally give their whole life to God in a way that Mormons, who consider family life central to God’s plan, simply don’t.  But the lows are also lower, due to a few things Catholicism doesn’t share with Mormonism:  an almost two-thousand year history (and its accompanying baggage), the unhealthy sexual repression of a celibate clergy, an extremely strong anti-birth control stance (that many of its adherents ignore), and the belief in Papal infallibility (a notion that some Mormons like to flirt with).

So, what do you think?  Is the church its organization and leadership or is it the people, its adherents?  Do people get lost in the criticism of the organization and forget the good done by individuals?  Discuss.

Seeing that ‘the importance of discerning correctly that which is figurative and that which is literal would be hard to overstate’ [p. 133] we might expect that the insights that Bro. McConkie will offer would reflect this seriousness. Yet his answers seem facile and ill-thought out. For example, his first insight into working through this dilemma is that often ‘the scriptures provide the answer’ [p. 134]. Following this he then explain that Adam was clearly born (literally) because of the scripture in Moses 6:59 (Adam is described as being ‘born’ in this verse).

His second insight is that sometimes ‘things spoken of in the scriptures are both figurative and literal’ [p. 134]. What is confusing here for me is that he argues that sometimes symbols are used in the middle of real stories, for example in the Garden of Eden. However, what those symbolic aspects are is less clear. Certainly Pres. Kimball’s declaration that the Eve-Adam-Rib story was figurative would be one example of what McConkie is discussing here. Yet, Pres. Kimball’s remark assumes a particular understanding of the Garden of Eden narrative to make that argument (i.e. that the story is literal and that they were born). Why is this reading any less literal than the born passage? Could the rib be literal and the reference to born be figurative?

His third insight is the most troubling for me. He writes that, ‘When scripture provides no clear answer by which we can discern what is figurative and what is literal, we are reduced to our own good sense and wisdom’. He continues ‘This… may well be quite deliberate, for it creates an opportunity for [God] to get a measure of our judgement, spiritual maturity and spiritual integrity’ [p. 135]. Really! ‘Figure it out for yourself’! That’s your key to discerning between what is literal and figurative. However, what is more perplexing is the implication of McConkie’s discourse.

By invoking issues that relate interpretation to spiritual maturity McConkie is creating an implicit ‘orthodoxy’ which places the reader in a position of spiritual uncertainty regarding their position with God. This is surely spiritually destructive. To encourage individuals to read the scriptures in a way that is reflective of their spiritual standing is to place them in a situation of tension of with God. For if their interpretation is wrong then they are not ‘saved’ and are in need of repentance. Moreover it allows those who are in authority to question worthiness upon the basis of differing interpretations. I believe that if we are to benefit from the scriptures, i.e. if they are to draw us God, then placing the individual into a spiritual uncertain situation while engaging with the texts is spiritually unproductive.

A recent post by SteveP, at BCC, argues that there is a temptation to approach the scriptures literally when they were not intended to be read in that particular way. I think this is fundamentally correct, however, I am convinced that there is a tendency within such arguments to find those who derive spirituality through a literalistic approach to the scriptures as incorrect or mis-informed. I am not arguing that SteveP would advocate this but rather that I have seen some who do. In one sense this form of argument can be used just like McConkie’s but instead to defend a non-literal orthodoxy.

Though SteveP frames his debate within the context of the literal/figurative binary, his position is rooted to the idea that the scriptures are intended to help us related to God and to ‘spiritual’ truth. My contention is that perhaps the literal/figurative dichotomy is part of the liahona/iron-rod split. Applying Richard Poll’s analogy here is useful because it helps us see that Liahona (figurative?) and Iron-Rod (literal?) readers of the scriptures are not in competition and should learn more empathy for the other position.

I am not convinced that literal readings of the scripture do violence to the depth the scriptures have to offer (though I am concerned about how they view more figurative readers). Yet, I am convinced that they do violence to the depth’s that SteveP sees in the scriptures (and I admit that feel the same). For another person that literal reading might derive other depths that (perhaps) non-literal readers might miss. Each paradigm has its failings and flaws, just like Liahonas and Iron-rods.

I think that a better way, a more complex and certainly less clear way, of approaching the scriptures is with different lens of literalism. If we rather see the scriptures literally in a way that both groups can accept, i.e. the scriptures can literally help us to come to God, then perhaps both sides could be more willing to apply these different lens of literalism to the same story and deal with the challenges that each will bring. Though a non-literal reader by inclination I have felt the challenge of trying to reconcile a literalistic reading of certain OT passages. Though I do not feel bound by such a paradigm, trying to read them in that literal way has proved a spiritually productive venture. Moreover, I hope that I am still able to plumb the depths that a non-literal paradigm has often provided for me.

It is not intentional.  In fact, I have, and would still call myself a feminist.  What are my qualifications for such a preposterous claim?  Well, first I wholeheartedly support equal rights and opportunities for women in all forms within a society.  Second, I was raised by feminist (then-single) Mormon housewife/full-time teacher.  Third, I have studied, support and work with feminist theory and research in my University education.  Fourth, I try to support my wife in her decisions regarding being a working-mum or SAHM.

Yet, none of this did not help realise something.  Lisa described this way, ‘When I got married I really thought that we would be equal partners, and we were.  We really were.  He did as much of the housework as I did, we both worked, we both made money… But as soon as I had a baby I was just shocked at how my world changed and how there was no equality anymore.  I was shocked of how much of that burden fell on me.’

From a different perspective Reese Dixon both glories and laments being able to have only one ‘role’; that of being a mother.

I guess I have failed to see how our relationship is becoming more unequal.  It started out great, I think.  She worked while I was at School and I did the majority of the housework and the cooking.  Shortly after I was married I was called to a position that meant I was out a few evenings of the week; and then things began to change.  A short time later, my calling changed, and I was out more.  We moved, but I kept the same calling, had a baby and I graduated.  We managed that ok, I was home a lot and tried to make sure I would regularly share the different responsibilities.  I was home most of the time during the day and I could do that.  My wife returned to work and I looked after our baby and began my post-graduate study.

Just over a year ago, my calling changed again.  Now I was out nearly every evening and my studies required more time.  We got pregnant again and I began teaching.  Finally another baby arrived.

Recently, there are some weeks that I never cook and rarely clean.  Though I home, I work and so I see the kids but I don’t always get time with them and sometimes I rarely change nappies or help feed.

Now, some might be thinking that if this is how we balance the responsibilities then that is fine.  The issue here is that I am unhappy with this and so is my wife.  The issue is that it is easier for me to allow this pattern to continue and I don’t like that about myself.

It is apparent that the systemic sexism in both the Church and the UK has made it easy for me to live out a patriarchal (not in a good way) existence by drawing me into the public sphere while simultaneously requiring that my wife live her life in private sphere.  That requirement is disseminated through the subtle, pernicious and quiet expectation that my wife will support me in my responsibilities.

I have need to repent for choosing to be acted upon rather than to act against the tide of these social influences.

Social Networks Are How Humanity Works

As a community, the church is like all other social networks; there are people you like, people you dismiss, people you trust, people who irritate you, and so forth.  Ideas pass from person to person, both good ideas (healthy habits, positive attitudes) and bad ideas (unhealthy habits, negative attitudes).  The benefits of belonging have a lot to do with the people who surround you.  If the social contacts are beneficial, membership is valuable.  If the social contacts are not beneficial, membership can be detrimental (this is one reason prisons are bad social networks if we hope to rehabilitate criminals).

Dirty Little Secret:  Not every social network is beneficial to every person.

Rule #1:  Recognize that it’s a social network.  Choose to be in it.

Weak vs. Strong Connections

Social networks include strong connections (in Facebook, your “friends”) and weak connections (“your friends’ friends” and their friends).  Strong connections create your social norms – they tend to be most influential on your idealogies, views and habits.  But weak connections are also valuable – it’s how we typically meet our spouses or find a new job.  Also, as information flows through our social network (via influential people), we can become susceptible to ideas and habits that originated through weak connections.

Dirty Little Secret:  People often take a passive stance with their relationships.  They may not scrutinize the sources of information (norms) that come to them.  Or they may not make good choices about strong vs. weak connections.

Rule #2:  Choose your strong relationships carefully (and be mindful of the influences of their strong relationships), and use your weak relationships to add to your network.

How Ideas Pass Through a Social Network – Why God has ”Hand”

According to the book, you accept new ideas from people in your network that you admire, people you view as successful or educated.  The people who are influential to you are the ones you consider your closest “friends.”  The people you influence are the ones who view you as their closest “friends.”  Influence flows through social networks, from those perceived to be successful, educated, or wise to those who aspire to be like them.

In an episode of Seinfeld, George laments that he doesn’t have “hand” in the relationship with his girlfriend.  The one with “hand” is the one who is more influential on the other; the one without “hand” is the one who hopes to gain most from the association.  The one with “hand” has all the power and can take the relationship or leave it.

This is like the hierarchy of intelligences described by Joseph Smith in Abraham 3:19 -

• when “there are two spirits, one being more intelligent than the other; there shall be another more intelligent than they; I am the Lord thy God, I am more intelligent than they all.“  So, influence flows from the most intelligent to less intelligent spirits.

So God has the potential for the most influence among all intelligences.  But if you don’t know God, you just have to deal with the smartest mortal people you can find, be they authors, spouses, family members, prophets, talk show hosts or drinking buddies.

Dirty Little Secret:  People sometimes think friendships are equal or that advice from friends is all good since they have your interests at heart.  It’s not all good.

Rule #3:  Understand and define your position in your social network and in your relationships (who has “hand” with you; with whom do you have “hand”?).  IOW, don’t take advice from stupid people or from people who are taking advice from stupid people.

Social Epidemics

Ideas move from person to person through a social network.  These might be useful, productive ideas (“smoking is bad for you,”) or bad, unproductive or unhealthy ideas (“fried food dipped in lard is delicious”).  Likewise, within the church, various doctrinal interpretations operate like social epidemics.  An interpretation is introduced by someone, and that idea spreads if people view it as 1) credible on its own merits, 2) coming from a reliable source, and 3) not contradicted by a better sourced, more convincing argument.   BTW, rejecting bad ideas increases your influence over time as does embracing good ideas.  Look at what has happened to smoker populations over the last 30 years for an example of this.

Dirty Little Secret:  You are always vulnerable to the ideas and social norms of your network, especially if you are unaware that you are.

Rule #4:  Pay attention to how ideas flow in your network; accept the best ideas from the best sources.

Four Types of People in Communities

There are four different personalities that emerge in all societies: collaborators, freeloaders, punishers and loners.  This pattern recurs whenever societies form:

1. Individual loners live in relative isolation or small family groups.
2. Individuals learn that they can achieve more in collaboration.
3. Some individuals in the system (free-loaders) decide they can reap the rewards of the group without participating.
4. Some individuals resent the freeloaders and self-designate as punishers to control the behaviors that are counterproductive to the society’s greater good (at least in their view).

What might these types look like in a church setting?

• Loners.  These folks don’t really participate or interact much, so they are socially neutral.  They may be peripherally associated with the ward (Jack Mormons) or they may attend regularly.  They are more like visitors than members; they give nothing to and take nothing from the organization.
• Collaborators are the “norm” or the “majority.”  These are your average people who try to help others, accept help from them, and wish the community well as an insider.  They both give to and take from the organization.
• Freeloaders may be perpetual takers but not givers.  This could be in the form of taking things like church welfare, member contributions of time to the organization, individual service from others, or spiritual edification without putting equal or greater amounts of the same (service, money, ideas, spirituality) back into the community over time.
• Punishers  are out to define and protect the boundaries of the organization.  They want to say who is in and who is out.  If they are influential, they can convince others to “unfriend” you or to “friend” you.   They want to punish and get rid of the free-loaders.
  • Sometimes they go too far and start to “punish” those who aren’t free-loaders overall, but who are going through a rough period in which they need more than they can contribute.
  • They may also target loners if they mis-assess them as free-loaders due to their low contribution.

Dirty Little Secret:  We need punishers like we need antibodies.  But antibodies unchecked lead to excessive allergies, rejecting things that are not harmful or even that are good.

Rule #5:  Give as much or more than you get.  Don’t freeload.  Ignore punishers if you can, and stay the heck off their radar.  If you get there somehow, make it clear you are not a freeloader.

Can You “Friend” God?

The book posits that “friending” God is actually an effective way to create a broader social network because suddenly all of humanity is the friend of a friend (other believers) or the friend of a friend of a friend (anyone who knows another believer).  It all depends on who you consider to be “God’s friends,” which varies.  Some Christians would say all Christians are “God’s friends,” (although many exclude the types of Christians they don’t like such as Mormons).  IOW, belonging to a religion (friending God) does increase your social network instantly and substantially, and to some extent, you can define how it does that.

Dirty Little Secret:  God may not be a respecter of persons, but religious cultures are, and so is your social network.

Rule #6:  To maximize your religious social network, you have to friend God.  This can be as simple as viewing everyone as connected and being filled with love toward all humanity.

Friending God puts you in a theoretical sibling relationship with all of humanity.  In reality, the connections created are mostly “weak” ones (not direct friends), but they do carry the social benefits of weak connections:  links to 1) prospective spouses, 2) job opportunities, and 3) new ideas (good and bad) that pass through chains of influence to you.

Likewise, ”unfriending God” has some of the immediate disadvantages – you suddenly erase your weak connections, isolating yourself from those benefits of the community.  Similarly, a relationship with God is like a relationship with anyone else, except that it’s even more one-sided and subject to personal interpretation (although all relationships are like this to an extent).

Unfortunately, marriages sometimes fail when people mistake a weak connection (through their mutual “friend” God) for a strong connection.  Strong connections take personal investment and time to develop.

Dirty Little Secret:  Strong connections require admiration and influence.  And in a marriage, it has to be a two-way street.

Rule #7:  Bear in mind the difference between a strong tie to God (if you even have that) and a weak tie through God to another person.  Building strong ties takes work.  Marriages require strong ties with influence in both directions (not too much “hand” on one side or the other).

Are any of these tips helpful to you?  Do you disagree with any?  How does the church work for you as a social network?  Do these models help?  Discuss.

On the one hand, we teach that God is omniscient, all knowing, the smartest of the smart, prognosticator of prognosticators, etc.  OTOH, we teach the doctrine of eternal progression:  that as man is, God once was, and as God is, man may become.  We also teach that eternal progression is part of God’s plan for us, and that we are to learn and grow “line upon line, precept upon precept.”

Since “the glory of God is intelligence” (D&C 93:36) and “intelligence or the light of truth was not created nor made nor indeed can be” (D&C 93:29) and when “there are two spirits, one being more intelligent than the other; there shall be another more intelligent than they; I am the Lord thy God, I am more intelligent than they all” (Abraham 3:19) – does that mean that there are hierarchies of Gods based on intelligence or the “light of truth”?  Is intelligence something that we can’t increase?  Does that mean that eternal progression is not increasing our intelligence?

  So, what does eternal progression mean?

• Does it mean that we continue to make mistakes and learn from them?  Are we allowed to make mistakes after we die?  Does God still make mistakes?  Does he have some discarded practice earths floating around out there?  (Maybe that’s what happened to Pluto)
• Does access to knowledge constitute eternal progression (e.g. celestial Wikipedia, when the earth becomes a Urim & Thummim)?
• Does God explore strange new worlds (presumably created by other Gods), seek out new civilizations and boldly go?
• How does God become like His Father?  Is that just getting old, but no additional skills are required, kind of like going from CEO to being on the board of directors?
• Is there a God threshold?  At which point do we say “Now THAT’s Godhood.  Yesterday, that was pre-Godhood, but today you’ve arrived”?  Is that when one has atoned?  If so, are there enough atonements to go around or are there lower level God positions for those who aren’t going to go that far?
• Can stupid people become Gods?  Wouldn’t stupid Gods have stupid spiritual kids?  Do different planets have different intelligences?  What if we ARE the stupid ones?
• Wouldn’t it be boring as all get out if you were a God and there was nothing new to learn or experience?  Is God in a constant state of ennui?  Isn’t that why the Greek gods were always chasing tail and creating havoc – boredom + power?
• Isn’t lack of progress the Mormon definition of hell?  If God doesn’t progress, doesn’t that = hell?  That can’t be right.

So, take a moment to consider what your opinion is and answer the following poll:

[poll ID = "141"]

Discuss.

As a lead into the rest of this discussion the other people who had this experience are:

Joseph Angell Young – One of Brigham Young’s sons was ordained in 1864 and was never subsequent invited into the quorum [3].

‘Brigham Young, Jr., was ordained as an Apostle by his father on February 4, 1864, but he did not become a member of the Council of the Twelve until October 1868, when he was chosen to fill the vacancy caused by George A. Smith’ [4].

Sylvester Q. Cannon was ordained an Apostle on April 14^th, 1938 and was set-apart in the Quorum April 6^th 1939, a year later [3].

Finally Alvin R. Dyer was called as an Apostle on October 5^th 1967 but was never included in the Quorum, and was actually incorporated into the First Quorum of Seventy when it was created in Oct 1^st 1976 [3].

The last person that might have been in a similar situation was David Whitmer & Oliver Cowdrey (D&C 18: 9), but I will not discuss this here [5].

President McKay once said: “There are apostles who are not members of the council. I think there were in that day [i.e., in New Testament times], at least they were considered to be apostles… A man may be an apostle but not one of the Council of the Twelve” [4].  That people can be ordained as an Apostle without being a member of the Twelve suggests that it is a Priesthood office which could be bestowed on those who are prepared.

In an article by David L. Paulsen, Joseph Smith is recorded to have said in a meeting in 1833, after a vision of the Father and the Son, “Brethren, now you are prepared to be the apostles of Jesus Christ, for you have seen both the Father and the Son and know that They exist and that They are two separate personages” [6].  President McKay, in the citation above, uses the example of Paul and Barabbas who were considered Apostles without them being included in the Quorum.  Paul it seems may have been later, while for Barabbas it is less clear.  It seems they were considered to be Apostles on the basis of what they had seen and that they were felt called to the ministry.

This seems to imply something similar to what Ammon describes in the Book of Mormon.  He says ‘I am called by that Holy Spirit to teach [the gospel]… and a portion of that Spirit dwelleth in me, which giveth me knowledge and also power’ (Alma 18: 34-5).  Moreover, there is a distinction between the calling and the ordinance associated with Priesthood power (see Al 13: 8).  In addition D&C 121: 37 argues that the powers of heaven may be conferred upon us, but that there are inseparable from the Spirit.  In fact if this section of scripture teaches us anything then it is that the Holy Ghost, through a Saintly life, gives power to an individual (see D&C 121: 46) not by the virtue of the Priesthood (D&C 121:40).

This suggest two things to me: first being an Apostle is not necessarily about being in the Quorum of the Twelve and that it may well be a Priesthood office, like High Priest, rather than a calling in that Priesthood.  Second there is a conception that Mormonism has scope for the ‘Priesthood of all believers’ type view.  Meaning that spiritual power is given to those who are called by God or receive that power, rather than by merely being ordained.

Notes:

1. Richard O. Cowan, The Church in the Twentieth Century [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1985], 45.

2. Truman G. Madsen; see also Scott Kenney, Joseph F. Smith in The Presidents of the Church, ed. L.J. Arrington [Salt Lake City, UT.: Deseret Book, ?] p. 191.

3. Encyclopaedia of Mormonism, Appendix 1, p. 1631-51.

4. David O. McKay, Gospel Ideals: Selections from the Discourses of David O. McKay [Salt Lake City: Improvement Era, 1953], 250.

5. See Brigham Young, Journal of Discourses 6:320 and Heber C. Kimball, Journal of Discourses 6:29.

6. David L. Paulsen, The Doctrine of Divine Embodiment: Restoration, Judeo-Christian, and Philosophical Perspectives in BYU Studies, vol. 35, no. 4 (Provo UT.: BYU Press, 1996).

I admit that I believe in God, but for the purposes of this post I want to suspend that belief.  The reason being that I want to compare it with believing in Santa Claus who I know is not real.

The article argues that although some people are against teaching our children something that is false, there is some evidence to suggest that it might serve some important functions.  Believing in Santa helps to teach the importance of reciprocity in relationships, it assists in the development of imagination and helps children cope with stressful situations.  But are these reasons sufficient to teach your child about God even if you knew it was wrong, and more importantly maintain it.

But is such belief a form of abuse, as Richard Dawkins argues.  When asked about the sexual abuse of the young by religious leaders, Dawkins replied that ‘horrible as sexual abuse no doubt was, the damage was arguably less than long-term psychological damage inflicted by bringing the child up catholic [or in any other faith - my note] in the first place’ [2].  Dawkins also believes that God should be given up at the same time as Santa Claus.

I would be horrified if someone believed in Santa past the age of 16, but I am not sure I could go so far as to say it is a form of child abuse.  I have a friend with a bright child who ‘figured out’ that Santa was not real and to prove it he set up a video camera watching the tree over Christmas Eve.  Knowing what was happening, the father arranged for a member of the Ward to dress up as Santa and bring the presents around.  Now, I personally do not agree with this, but I am not sure it is abusive.  If this continues then I would fear socially for the child, but the same could be said about believing in God.

So is believing in God a form of child abuse, assuming God is not real?

Notes

1. Gail Vines, The Santa Delusion: Is it harmless fantasy or cruel deception? in New Scientist, 22/29 December 2007, pp. 36-7

2. Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion [London: Bantam Press, 2006] p. 356.

I enjoy the TV show ‘House’.  Aside from his acerbic wit I often enjoy the program’s discussion of issues of atheism and the explanation for suffering that exists in the world.  There are two episodes in particular that relate to this topic of suffering.  In one a girl comes into the surgery who has been raped and asks to have House treat her.  There is nothing wrong with her (medically) and so he sees no reason to treat her.  As a ‘Theology Major’ the episode develops through their dialogue on whether God exists and how he could let this happen.  Their approaches reveal an almost dichotomised view of the world.  House attempts to find the meaning behind her suffering in the randomness of the world and the psychology of the attacker.  She sees meaning in her suffering as something which exists, but which is beyond her understanding.

The second episode brings a magician into House’s diagnostic department.  They discuss the need to know versus the need for wonder and mystery.  The Magician seems almost to relish the mysterious nature of disease and would rather die from an unknown source than be saved from a known diseases.  The episode concludes with House finding the reason for the sickness and curing the Magician.  The final line from House is: ‘knowing is way cooler’.

For me this highlights a tension in thinking about suffering that I had not appreciated fully before but which I think Levinas describes aptly.  He writes that suffering is suffering because of ‘the denial, the refusal of meaning’ that attends it [1].  What I think Levinas is trying to get at  here is that suffering is different from pain.  Pain can be explained.  The magicians pain was not mysterious any longer because the explanation was given for that pain.  Yet pain becomes suffering when the explanation (House’s explanation) seems to break down or fracture under the weight of the suffering.  Thus the strength of House’s rationality seems more facile and weak in the case of the rape victim.  That type of pain causes suffering because it resists an explanation and meaning.

Yet, this is not necessarily the point at which religion or theology sweeps in and begins providing discrete meaning for all suffering.  For suffering resists all type of meaning, even religious.  Thus any explanation, even one provided by religion still seems to have fractures and breaks were the explanation does not fit, as Levinas demonstrates in the essay.  Religious explanations fail to console just as easily as Medical or psychological or any other explanantions.

Therefore if suffering resists meaning, then can meaning be found in suffering as I previously argued.  I think it can, but it can only ever do it imperfectly.  Our explanations will never be generalisable nor will they fully satisfy or console.  C.S. Lewis wrote, after the death of his wife, that he believes there is truth in religion, there is religious duty; but if you talk ‘to [him] about the consolations of religion’ and he will ‘suspect that you don’t understand’[2].

If we expect religion or God to provide answers any more satisfactory than any other ideology or explanatory-structure then perhaps we have mis-understood.  What then is the role of religion in such suffering?  Levinas provides one possible explanation, which I hope to discuss in a future post.  But I want to offer a suggestion here which uses faith.

Alma describes faith as not having a perfect knowledge.  Faith can involve contradiction (see my previous posts on Kierkegaard and on Worship).  Religion then can provide people (and other institutions can do something similar) with a context for living out our lives beneath the weight of useless and unexplained suffering.  The contradiction built into meaningless suffering is so great that many have turned toward religious explanations to provide satisfactory answers when perhaps all that was required or expected by God, was to continue to seek out a relationship with Him in the midst of such contradiction.  A faith that is more about faithfulness and relationships (of trust and love) than about doctrinal explanations.  A faith that does not require a future meaning for the suffering of the present.

I am not saying that we should not seek to find meaning in our suffering, I think there is some value in that process, especially if we involve God in it.  Yet, what I am arguing is that by its very nature, suffering refuses to be circumscribed by a meaningful explanation.  As such, the response of religion, should be in part an acceptance of this contradiction and an attempt to utilize the dynamism of such contradictions to direct us toward God.  Yet, the passivity and activity of these two movements is a contradiciton in itself.

Notes:

1. Emmanuel Levinas, Useless Suffering in Entre Nous [London: Continuum, 2006], p. 78.

2. C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed [London: Faber & Faber, 1961], p. 23.

Firstly, I can understand other religions who live in my community who might be frustrated at the effort and money that is spent of events during the Christmas season, that is not directed into events that would help their own religious festivals.

Secondly, I sense that if Christians want their festivals to remain important then we need to ensure that they are important by our practising them rather than using (or assuming) some sort of cultural supremacy simply because we happen to be the dominant religious culture in a country.

Thirdly, no one else can determine whether I worship Christmas and the extent to which I feel the spirit of Christ.  Therefore although I think having that focus at Christmas time is a good thing I should not let the fact that other people do not believe become the major focus of my worship.  I am sure people who celebrate any of the Islamic festivals do not concern themselves with my benign neglect of their religious festival so why should I use mine against them.

Fourthly, no one can stop me from calling it Christmas, if I so choose.  I don’t care what anyone else calls.  If they want to change the legal name so that it does not alienate other religious denominations then I can’t see an issue with that.

This just seems a mis-directed way to focus on Christmas at a time of year when Christians should be at their most tolerating, inclusive and forgiving.

What do you think?

Should we legally protect Christmas or should we emphasise celebrating it ourselves and not be concerned about what others do?

While there’s a tendency at times in the Bloggernacle to pick scabs and focus on the things that drive us nuts or that don’t make a lot of sense, I thought this week’s holiday was a perfect excuse to share what I love about the church.  Here’s my Top 10 (in no particular order).

1. Tithing.  It’s egalitarian, like a flat tax.  No matter how little or how much you make, you can feel like you are contributing proportionally the right amount.
2. Fast Offerings.  OK, not a big fan of fasting per se due to headaches and grumpiness, but I love the concept of understanding hunger in a personal way once per month and using that money to help those who don’t have enough to eat.  What a great principle!
3. Sincerity.  I seldom encounter a church member who is not trying very hard to live a good Christian life, to raise a strong family or to live what they believe.  People are just so gosh darn nice and earnest.  While outsiders may be skeptical of that, I think most insiders see that it’s a byproduct of the lifestyle.
4. Helpfulness.  I love that no matter how menial or repetitive the task, members are willing to pitch in and do whatever is needed:  putting away chairs, cleaning up after a social, helping in the nursery, and cleaning the ward building are just a few, to mention nothing about the humanitarian and service projects.
5. Human potential.  I love the concept that we are God’s children and can become like Him in a very real way.  It’s a genius concept!  Far more compelling than sitting on a cloud strumming a harp listening to instrumental soft rock.
6. Word of Wisdom.  OK, so it’s not perfect – we’re probably over-reaching a bit – but I love the idea of all of us forgoing what is harmful to “the weakest of the Saints.”  And I love the original intent of the Word of Wisdom–that through keeping our minds free and bodies healthy and not indulging in things that are harmful or addictive we can achieve more spiritual enlightenment.
7. Pantheon of Leaders.  There are so many different church leaders with different perspectives and styles that if one of them rubs you the wrong way or fails to inspire you personally, there are many many more to choose from.
8. Personal Revelation.  Not only are we given ongoing revelation from leaders, but we are entitled to our own personal revelation, making it a church of prophets in essence.  Everyone has the ability to receive inspiration for their own lives, families and responsibilities.  That also helps us stay open-minded.
9. Callings.  While it sounds like some sort of shangri-la to go to a church where you are one of thousands in the congregation, church is over in an hour, and there are coffee and donuts afterward, there is nothing like a calling to take you out of your comfort zone and make you grow.  The hardest callings are often the most rewarding in terms of the skills you gain, and even just giving talks creates a ton of personal and spiritual growth.
10. Open Canon.  The concept of ongoing revelation and that scripture continues to be revealed (even if it is in the more fluid form of General Conference talks now vs. new sections to the Doctrine & Covenants) means that change is inevitable.  Doctrines continue to be revealed and reinterpreted.  Change happens.  Our understanding evolves.

These are just a few of the things I would hate to do without in my religious worship.  What things are in your Top 10?  Any similarities?  Differences?  Discuss.

Bushman highlights in this lecture a ‘Visionary Culture’ in which Joseph Smith matured, as well as many of the early converts to the Church.  This culture seems to have powerfully shaped the experience of the Spiritual Gifts in the Church.  As an illustration Bushman notes that the Methodist religion, prior to this period, ‘begins with this supernatural culture, or people who are yearning for visions and tongues and various demonstrations of God’s power in their lives.  And the reason Joseph Smith ran into so much trouble with that minister, was not because his vision was strange and out of the way but because it was so common.  The Methodist’s by 1820 were trying to calm their membership, to discourage this visionary culture’.  Acknowledging that I am not a Historian, it seems to me that this same cycle has played out for the LDS Church as well.  The result appears to be a centralised view of the spirit and the spiritual gifts; meaning they are something we experience when our (general) leaders speak or perhaps we experience them vicariously through the stories of our general leaders.

Six months ago I attended a Stake Conference where a member of the First Presidency and an Apostle spoke.  This is fairly rare in the UK, I am not sure if it is more common in other places.  I have never been in the same room as an Apostle before, let alone a member of the First Presidency.  As you might expect, the excitement was tangible.  After the meeting I heard many people reflect upon the significant spiritual experiences that they had felt.  While I felt inspired, I did not experience what it seemed like others had felt.  Now I am aware that not all people connect with certain speakers in the same way and that I may not have been ‘spiritually prepared’; but I contrasted this with a fireside, given by an LDS academic, that I attended a few weeks later where I was genuinely moved by some of the inspiring things this person said about the Life and Teachings of the Saviour.  What surprised me most was that I was almost alone in my feelings. 

Anecdotally at least, I sensed that perhaps there is a part of the LDS culture that expects profound spiritual experiences from the Brethren and no one else.  It seems that we believe miraculous events in the lives of the leaders but are skeptical about those who are in our wards and stakes.  It occurred to me that this was not always the case and that perhaps the Church, or we as members, needs to de-centralise the Spirit.  I believe that I need to expect my most profound spiritual experiences to come from those people I spend most of my spiritual life with; those in my ward and in my family.  I also believe that the General Leaders do not want spirituality to be centralised at Church headquarters.

Others have noticed this tension between charisma and bureaucracy. “Security religion provides refuge. It builds an ecclesiastical wall which protects from the onslaught of questions and doubts and decisions. Growth religion, on the other hand, forces its adherents to grow, to accept responsibility to assume the burden of proof, to move beyond extrinsic constraints”[1].  According to Ritchie we need to balance both types of culture.  In my mind, this pattern of centralising the spirit is associated with security religion.

Contrastingly, growth religion would seem to “provide those conditions of the giving and receiving of influences such that there is the enlargement of the freedom of all the members to both give and receive.”[2]  Being able to experience the divine influence in our local spiritual communities would seem to be linked with this pattern of open-ness.

My Questions are these:

Has the Church moved from a explosively Charismatic movement to a bureaucratically-contained one?  And why might this have happened?

Do you agree with my contention that there is a centralisation of the Spirit in the Church?  If so, is this a good thing?

Are the differences between Growth and Security religion manageable on an Institutional scale or are they invariably matters for the individual?

If there is the a centralisation of the Spirit and if this is not good, how could this be changed?

Notes:

1. J. Bonner Ritchie, The Institutional Church and the Individual in Sunstone [Salt Lake City, UT.: Sunstone Education Foundation, ], p. 101.

2. Bernard Loomer, “Two Conceptions of Power,” Process Studies 6, no. 1 (Spring 1976), 26- 27.

This photograph was taken by Sebastiao Salgado at a gold mine in Brazil.  I first saw it in a room at the University I attend.  As an idealistic and aspiring academic I felt moved by the raw power of the worker as he resisted the guard.  Ever since then I have had a copy of this picture in my study areas.  It reminds me that my life is not just about doing good, but that I have a moral duty to alleviate as much suffering in this world as I can.  It reminds me that sometimes I need to resist those in power to protect the weak.  I believe that is part of the heritage that Christ has given us.

Egon Friedell

In this regard I was recently provoked to thought by something Egon Friedell has said about the Christian tradition.  I had never heard of Egon Friedell, until reading a book by Clive James entitled ‘Cultural Amnesia’ (which I whole-heartedly recommend), but I think I really like him.  James describes him as the ‘polymath’s polymath’.  Yet, Friedell was not merely a book-worm but was also one of the most famous cabaret artist’s of his day in a city (Vienna) full of performers.  Before discussing his ideas I wanted to share one tid-bit from his life which was (oddly) inspiring for me:

‘On the day of the AnschluB in 1938, Friedell saw the storm troopers marching down the street, on their way to the building in which he had his apartment full of books.  He was only a few floors up but it was high enough to do the job.  On his way out of the window he called a warning, in case his falling body hit an innocent passer-by.’

His magnum opus ‘Cultural History of the Modern Age’ contains this line: ‘Mankind in the Christian Era possesses one huge advantage over the ancients: a bad conscience’.  Now it seems that neither James nor Friedell were Christians but they recognised something that the world had been given because of Christianity.  In James’ words, ‘When Friedell talked about a bad conscience, he meant the mind that was capable of seeing that might and right were not the same thing’.

One challenge with making this distinction is discerning it amidst the normalising power of culture.  Seeing oppression and pain inflicted by those in power is difficult when those causing such situations are the same people we revere or respect; it is harder still is to resist it.  ‘Most men’ James notes ‘bend with the breeze: which is to say, they go with the prevailing power.  But a few do not.  With or without Christ’s help, they grow a bad conscience.  Thank God for that.’

Yet, what haunts me more is that, in the words Albert Camus, ‘I [find] that there [are] sweet dreams of oppression within me’.  I really believe that ’it is the nature and disposition of almost all men… to exercise unrighteous dominion’ (D&C 121:39); and this includes me.  Friedell’s ‘bad conscience’ must work inward as much as it flows outward; I must check myself against the tendencies that I have to use any ‘perceived’ authority I might have to justify my own prejudices.  James’ oppressive breeze blows both from within and from without.  

The last century saw many idealistic and bright people bend with that breeze, and yet, within the Christian heritage is the ‘bad conscience’, which urges us to resist oppressive behaviour, even from ourselves.  I wonder whether I have been true to my tradition.  I wonder whether I have stood up for the down-trodden and the out-cast. I wonder whether my respect for authority has led me to turn a blind-eye to unrighteous dominion (wherever that is found).  I hope I can be rigid in one of the few senses I see as important; that I will never concede to view that power leads inevitably to truth.

At the out-set I should explain that I am not a Biblical scholar nor am I especially good with languages.  So I would appreciate, and even expect, some dialogue regarding the thoughts that I want to express here.

Isaiah 58 is, for me, the most inspiring text in the scriptures that discusses fasting.  In this post I want to consider some of the ideas it expresses.  Isaiah’s concern is that Israel’s focus in their fast is themselves.  He writes that people complain ‘Wherefore have we fasted… and thou seest not? Wherefore have we afflicted our soul and thou takest no knowledge’ (Isa 58:3)?   They fast ‘to make [their] voice heard on high’ (Isa 58:4).

The Lord in response to this behaviour asks the people to turn the focus of their fast outward.  ‘Is this not the fast that I have chosen? To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?  Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?’ (Isa 58:6-7).

The sense I get is that this practice should be directed toward others.  To fast is not just to go without food as a sacrifice, but it is to render service or make especial effort to love those whom we struggle to love.  Fasting so that our own voice is heard in Heaven is condemned while serving our fellow men is central to our fast.  In fact, it seems that to give up food is a means by which we can ‘draw out [our] soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul’ (Isa 58:10).  As we voluntarily go without we are to think about or focus our time upon those who go without involuntarily.  To do this expands our compassion and love.  In fact, it seems that in this act we emulate Christ, who voluntarily suffered so that he might perfect his capacity for ‘mercy and empathy’ [2].

Isaiah outlines some of the promised blessings that may come from such a fast (see Isa 58:8-12).  In v.9 he says ‘then shalt thou call, and the LORD shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am. If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking vanity’.  I believe the Lord’s answer is not synonymous with having our voice heard on high.  I believe that that answer is ‘Here I am’.  I believe the Lord promises us his presence and comfort and yet, Isaiah reiterates that this will only come if we put off those behaviours which afflict others.  Thus as we give up, or put off, food so are we also to put off those actions which offend or hurt.  The food in one sense becomes a symbol of our sin, which we desire to put off.

In addition the Lord promises us that as we turn our lives outward to those around us, as we learn to expand our capacities for love and service, that our lives will become ‘like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not’ (Isa 58:11).  The poetic allusion to Christ as the Living waters is wonderful and yet what is significant here is not that we come to the Living Waters, but they become placed within us.  In this sense we become like Christ, in that we become fountains of love rather than cups which need filling.  Fasting is one of those spiritual practices that helps us to place the Living Waters in us.

In v. 12 the Lord promises that such people will be those who help prepare Zion.  In speaking of this verse Eugene England has said ‘The Lord has, in these verses, drawn a straight line from fasting for the hungry to becoming a “repairer of the breach”–to preserving peace that will “raise up the foundations of many generations” instead of dooming those generations to nuclear destruction. The Lord is describing, with the extra power of poetic language, a precise and inexorable moral law: mercy begets and multiplies mercy; sacrificial giving will beget and multiply kindness, understanding, patience, brotherhood–even between enemies.’ [3]  In this sense again through Fasting the Lord promises us that we will begin to learn how to heal the wounds which afflict ourselves and others; we will learn how to break down those barriers that restrict us from being at-one with each and with God.

I am inspired by these verse because I would like to be someone who exhibits these characteristics and yet it is clear to me now that only by directing my fast toward others will this be made possible.  I feel that I have too often fasted so that I might receive a particular job, or even so that I might get good marks in my education.  I feel the urge to repent and turn toward God and other people, and to do this through fasting.

Notes:

1. Jana Reiss, Mormonism as Praxis in Sunstone, 12/1/04 [Salt Lake City UT.: Sunstone Education Foundation, 2004], p. 16-27

2. Neal A. Maxwell, A Choice Seer in Ensign, August 1986.

3. Eugene England, Fasting and Food, Not Weapons: a Mormon Response To Conflict in BYU Studies, vol. 25 [Provo Ut.: BYU Publications, 1985), p. 154.

Christian sects have a Jewish problem.  Christ was a Jew who either fulfilled or rejected the faith in which he was raised.  Christianity shed basic tenets of Judaism including circumcision, dietary restrictions, the authority of the rabbis, and rituals that became impractical as the religion gained non-Jewish converts.  Early Christians invested in highlighting any Old Testament scripture that could plausibly be considered Messianic to bolster their claim that Jesus was divine.  Many early Christians sought to discredit the Jews to make it clear that despite their common roots, it was the parent religion that was in error, not its offspring.  A negative cycle of Jewish antagonism ensued which resulted in some of the worst atrocities of humanity, including the Inquisition and the Holocaust.

From its inception, Mormonism re-invented the relationship of Christianity to its Hebrew roots.  The Book of Mormon purports to be written by Hebraic people who openly worshiped Jesus Christ and knew directly about him, hundreds of years before his birth.  In proposing a pre-Christ Christology, Mormonism created an alternate Jewish history with a very recognizable and familiar Jesus Christ in the role of Messiah.  Even Isaiah is quoted at length to further solidify the notion that Isaiah was specifically talking about Jesus.

From the very beginning, Mormons have viewed themselves as an actual part of the House of Israel.  This belief in being part of “the chosen people” gives Mormons today and early Mormons a sense of purpose.  Some of the “Israel-centric” beliefs of Mormonism:

• Gathering.  We believe in the literal gathering of Israel.  Many Christian sects also believe in this, and it certainly prompted the creation of the state of Israel.  Nevertheless, a unique component to the beliefs of early Mormonism was that there would be a “new” Jerusalem in the United States.
• Lost Tribes.  The LDS have a belief that each member of the church is literally descended from (or adopted into) one of the Lost 10 Tribes.  As revealed through Patriarchal Blessings, most hail from the tribe of Ephraim, although commonly, native Americans and Polynesians tend to be assigned to Mannaseh, while those of actual Jewish descent have tribe assignments that reflect that.  (Incidentally, the Church of God in Christ, a black Pentacostal church formed in 1907 also has unique beliefs about the lost tribes, believing that England is Ephraim and the U.S. is the tribe of Mannaseh.)
• Utah’s geography.  When Saints arrived in Utah, the fact that there was a northbound freshwater lake flowing into a salt water lake was yet another sign that this was the right gathering place for the heirs of Israel, one with the same geography as the holy land.
• Wandering.  The House of Israel wandered for 40 years before inheriting their promised land, which was frankly a barren wasteland.  Sound familiar?  Early Mormons considered their westward trek to be another test of the House of Israel, wandering by faith toward an unknown destination, and finally arriving in their arid home.  Yet pioneer stories are retold in Mormonism much as stories of Moses and the Israelites were told within Judaism.

When apostasy struck in Kirtland (over the bank failure and economic crisis of 1837), elders were sent under Heber C. Kimball’s leadership to England to preach.  Within 8 months, there were two thousand converts to Mormonism, many of whom are ancestors of current members of the church.  Most of these new converts (through Patriarchal Blessings) were assigned to the tribe of Ephraim.  Is the claim that the British descend from the tribe of Ephraim credible?  Interestingly, the idea that the Celts were descended from the Hebrews (tribe of Ephraim) has many non-LDS and LDS proponents.  This idea became popular in England, especially during the Victorian age; critics considered it an attempt to justify colonialism.  The catalyst for its popularity was a book written in 1871 by Edward Hine.

A few reasons Celts are believed to descend from the tribe of Ephraim:

• similarities between Druidism and Phoenician religious worship combined with early Hebrew worship, see here.
• similaries in Celtic names and Hebrew names, see here.
• cultural similarities, see here.

And, a quick poll to see what tribe you were assigned personally.  (My guess is we’ll be over 95% Ephraim):

[poll id="43"]

So, what do you think?  Does the church’s view of the House of Israel strengthen our position and give the people a sense of purpose lacking in some other sects (but present in some other non-LDS sects as well)?  Was it an ingenious concept unique to Mormonism?

And do you believe in the accuracy of lineage as assigned in Patriarchal Blessings?  Why or why not?  Do you think that Celts are of Hebrew descent?

Discuss.

There are some traits that are commonly expected among members of the church.  The traits I want to evaluate are:  loyalty, conservativism, conformity, hierarchy, structure, tradition, and formality.  There may be some who generally dislike one or more of these traits, but upon further examination it is probably just a reaction to being out of sync with the current consensus of the Mormon community.  Each of these traits could be considered on a scale from the opposite of the trait to an extreme version of the trait.  Where do you draw the line for yourself personally on each of these?

• Loyalty creates cohesion. But if it goes too far, you get radicalism.
  • The other end of the loyalty spectrum is opposition, rather than disloyalty, because both ends of the spectrum are activist by nature, not passive.  How do you feel about each of the following on the continuum:  persecution to the point of killing church members, active opposition to the church, expressing outsider criticism, harboring resentment toward the church (but not acting on it), expressing insider criticism, verbal defense of the church, active defense of the church, willing to kill church enemies.
  • Where do you fit between active opposition to the organization and active loyalty to the organization?

• Conservativism creates stability. But if it goes too far, you stop progressing.
  • The other end of the conservative spectrum is anarchy or instability–actively breaking down existing practices and stable structures.
  • Where do you fit on this scale – how radical are the changes you would like to see introduced and how quickly would you like to introduce them?  How opposed are you to changes that are even now introduced?  Do you yearn for the good old days?

• Conformity creates unity. But if it goes too far, it creates inauthenticity and stifles self-expression.
  • The other end of this scale is complete individuation, and prizing uniqueness by looking to distinguish everyone as individuals.  The conundrum is that often what passes for self-expression is just a desire to conform to a different model that the individual finds more appealing.
  • Do you accept the conformity standards at church or do you feel you have to be inauthentic to fit in?  Do you feel free to express yourself while still being accepted by the community?

• Hierarchy creates order. But if it goes too far, you get unrighteous dominion and blind obedience.
  • The opposite of hierarchy is a populist, grass roots, egalitarian leadership – leadership by the vocal masses, loosely similar to the ideal of communism (certainly not the practice of it).  On the downside, this can be chaotic and result in the rule of charismatic underdogs.  Likewise, some prefer to relinquish their own responsibility by relying too much on hierarchy, even in a lower-power structure organization, taking even the most innocuous statements as law.
  • How hierarchical do you feel the church is?  Is it too hierarchical (too many detailed mandates from the highest levels) or not hierarchical enough (too many decisions made at the local level)?  What level of hierarchy is most comfortable to you?

• Structure creates security. But if it goes too far, it is like a prison.
  • The opposite of structure is having no programs and free, open meeting agendas.  The risk is that nothing gets accomplished and nothing is measured.
  • How much structure is comfortable to you?  Is there too much structure in the church (checklists, correlated manuals) or too little (open dogma, lay clergy, not commanded in all things)?

• Tradition builds a legacy.  But if it goes on too long, it becomes obsolete.
  • The opposite of tradition is spontaneity.  In worship, this could be constant change to meeting formats, speaking and music styles, etc.  To some extent, charismatic meetings are more spontaneous in this manner, but consistently charismatic meetings have their own traditions.
  • Cultural preferences in Mormonism can embody the whole religion for some people.  How do you respond to changes in tradition (no more roadshows, no more farewell meetings run by the family, changes to the temple ceremony)?  Do you feel there are some traditions that should end or are you comfortable with the traditions – do they make it your home?

• Formality creates a sense of purpose. But if it goes too far, form overtakes function and erodes meaning.
  • The opposite of formality is casualness.  Some religions are very casual by comparison – preachers in jeans, barbecuing with worship, etc.
  • How formal is too formal to you?  How casual is too casual?  Do you like the balance in Mormonism or is it too formal or not formal enough?

If there is a continuum for each of these, where do you think the church sits?  Where do you sit?  Are you aligned?  If so, how do you avoid the perils of groupthink?  If not, how do you avoid ostracism from the church community?  How can a group like the church remain cohesive while avoiding the negative extremes of groupthink?

Discuss.

In Hinduism we read “Ekam Sat Vipra Bahuda Vadanthi” or “Truth is one, the sages speak of it by many names.” I’m a big Joseph Campbell fan. He pointed out the goal of religion is to take us beyond the dualistic conception of reality, or “pairs of opposites,” to a stage of transcendence. I think we find this in Mormonism as well. The words of Lehi in 2nd Nephi 2:11:

For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.

juxtaposed against Christ’s admonition in John 17:11, 21:

11 And now I am no more in the world, but these are in the world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are.
21 That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.

Ultimately, I wonder if there is a duality, each side of which is to be satisfied, maybe it is our mission in life to overcome it and become one?

2.  What does it mean to be “spiritual”? And an extension of this, do religions always help us be more “spiritual”? This is where I’d like to focus my thoughts. Joseph Campell’s message, research, and ideas can be summarized by the phrase “Follow your bliss.” Might I suggest this as a definition of “spirituality.” I am convinced that this could be science, mathematics, scholarship, religion, mythology, music, pottery, philosophy, languages, poetry, etc. etc. etc. From Campbell:

The way to find out about happiness is to keep your mind on those moments when you feel most happy, when you are really happy – not excited, not just thrilled, but deeply happy. This requires a little bit of self-analysis. What is it that makes you happy? Stay with it, no matter what people tell you. This is what is called following your bliss.[3]

As a case study, I’d like to compare Joseph Smith with Albert Einstein. Joseph Smith needs no explanation to this audience. He was a visionary, a mystic, a prophet, a charismatic leader, superstitious, an author (depending on your POV). But no matter how you spin it, he was a deeply “spiritual” man in the traditional sense of the word – that is, he was concerned about God and religion, afterlife, premortal life, ordinances, revelation, and authority.

The less traditional case is Albert Einstein. When most of us think of him, we might think of general, and special relativity, and more specifically E=mc^2. What we don’t think of, are his profound thoughts on nature, religion, God, oneness, etc. From Albert Einstein:

A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty – it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man.[1]

It seems to me, from this statement (and many others he made) that he was “following his bliss” via his scientific endeavors. It would appear that Einstein was deeply “spiritual” in this sense. He was passionate about the subject that, for him, led him to a place of appreciation, love, respect, and kindness for all things living. A kind of transcendence above the need for “opposition in all things.” Note the following:

“A human being is part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from the prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty… The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure and the sense in which they have obtained liberation from the self. (Albert Einstein, 1954)”[2]

But lest you think that his convictions came from religion, or traditional “spirituality,” observe this statement:

“I do not believe in a personal God and I have never denied this but have expressed it clearly. If something is in me which can be called religious then it is the unbounded admiration for the structure of the world so far as our science can reveal it. (Albert Einstein, 1954)”[1]

My point, at the end of the day, is twofold: first, the seeming duality is, possibly, something we are to overcome, and second, that “spirituality” can be defined as following whatever means leads us toward this realization.  Religion, God, the Holy Ghost, prayer, and Mormonism is one way to achieve that end. I suggest there are as many other ways as there are human beings!

What say ye?

[1] http://www.spaceandmotion.com/albert-ei … eology.htm

[2] http://www.spaceandmotion.com/

[3] http://thinkexist.com/quotes/joseph_campbell/

• Home teaching.  If God’s capable of reading the minds, and hearing/sorting through prayers from seven billion people speaking 1,000+ languages and dialects simultaneously here on Earth, surely he has a grip on the status of everyone in the afterlife.  And after all, isn’t it only blue skies and crying babies anyway?  So, I’m guessing that the monthly calls that everyone tries to avoid will be a thing of the past.
• Moving.  There was a time when we were moving 2-3 families a month into and out of our Ward.  I’m nearly moved-to-tears at the idea of not moving anyone in the eternal abode.  They’ll catch their own ride to their assigned home planet and start the procreating without any boxes, U-Haul, etc.  Wahoo!
• Church Welfare.  I’m not sure how many of you would enjoy sitting across a desk from a neighbor and telling them to dump cell phones, cars, RV’s, etc., to reduce monthly expenses, but I dread it.  With the celestial streets paved in gold, welfare shouldn’t be an issue.  Although it brings up further questions: is the gold only in the Celestial Kingdom, or do all three come equally-equipped in this area, and more importantly, if a resource isn’t rare anymore, is it really worth anything?  But I digress…
• Church Meetings.  Now here’s an interesting one to me.  After we’ve ‘made it’ will we have to go to any Church meetings anymore?  Since we’ll already know everyone else’s thoughts, I assume that we’ll know what that person would give a talk about, before the talk is even given.  I think I’m safe to say that Sunday may turn out to truly be days of rest in the hereafter.  Don’t get me wrong – I suppose that sitting in a chair for twelve hours every Sunday could be considered resting to a guy that works in construction, but…
• Travel.  There were few things that I hated more while raising my kids here on Earth than long car trips with children under five.  With all the child-rearing that will be going on eternally in the netherworlds, I’m really hoping that there aren’t celestial maxi-vans and that travel will be more-or-less instantaneous, like what we see on Star Trek, but with much larger teleportation pads that can facilitate a few thousand kids at a time.
• In-laws and extended-family reunions.  Since we’re all, ‘brothers and sisters,’ will we still be expected to visit in-laws in the hereafter?   I can’t imagine having extended-family reunions either, since a gathering of tens of billions would take some massive coordination, and that doesn’t even include the Neanderthals.  On that note, are the Kingdoms going to be species-segregated, or will we all get lumped together?  I enjoy the thought of seeing Fido again, but not so much being chased by the saber-toothed tigers and velociraptors.

So, what are the to-die-for changes that you’re most looking forward to in the afterlife?

Bishop Mike Young

spanishfork401stward.blogspot.com

Let’s start with faith.  There are many definitions of faith, and each religion seems to place a slightly different emphasis on faith and its meaning.  From Wikipedia: “faith is the confident belief or trust in the truth of or trustworthiness of a person, idea, or thing.”  In Christianity faith is an act of trust or reliance on Deity.  In this way it is distinguished by the object of its faith rather than the faith itself [1].  In Islam, faith is a complete submission of will to Allah.  In Hinduism it means an unshaken belief and purity of thought.  In Buddhism faith connotates a feeling of conviction, specifically a conviction that something is, a determination to accomplish one’s goals, and a sense of joy deriving from these two.

There is another important aspect of some people’s faith – fideism.  Fideism is the idea of having faith for the sake of having faith.  That is to say, it does not rely on logic, or reason of any kind.  It is independent of reason, and even holds that reason and faith are diametrically opposed.  This may lead us, in the church, to shun intellectualism and focus instead on faith.  For many TBMs, faith trumps logic.  Some believe that the events of the restoration were physical, external realities.  This can result in viewing our own spiritual experiences as evidence of external realities.  We are taught from a young age that the “Spirit” will direct us, put thoughts in our head, prompt us to do things, not do things, comfort us, and even tell us what is “true.”

Intellectualism (rationalism, reason, logic, etc.) is “any of a number of views regarding the use or development of the intellect . . .”  It is sometimes synonymously viewed with “rationalism” the idea that knowledge is derived through reasoning [2].

In my life I have had thoughts come into my head, felt comfort, and felt promptings.  However, it has never been clear to me, since some of these thoughts were wrong and uninspired, how to distinguish “spiritual promptings” I should heed, from just plain ‘ole regular thoughts.  In other words, my “thoughts,” or “promptings” or “experiences” have not always been a manifestation of external truth or reality.

Science is often the “poster child” for intellectualism.  But it indeed has a strong track record.  It is repeatable, reliable, and effective at describing the physical realities that surround us.  Although science is imperfect, its mechanisms are very good, indeed inspired.  On the downside, science is not spiritual.  Science doesn’t write poetry, compose music, paint pictures, or do other activities meet humanity’s spiritual needs.  Science is a utility.  It is one of many tools in the toolbox of life.  It complements faith.

Faith, on the other hand, inspires us, makes us happier, makes us feel good.  It serves as a guide to help us know right from wrong.  It gives us comfort, something to rely upon, and hold to.  I believe that faith is the soul’s innermost desire to express itself, to be born, to come out, to manifest itself in the world around us.  Arguably most importantly, faith moves us to action, and that action is a manifestation of the spiritual being within.  There is great worth in this concept.  It is in this sense, that I believe that faith, like science, is a tool in our toolbox of life.

Having said this, why is it that so many view intellectualism as mutually exclusive to faith?  Might I suggest one possible cause; that religions and people have a psychological affinity for treating the spiritual as physical realities.  Studies have shown that people who have sleep-paralysis, after having an episode, associate the events with reality.  They literally are unable to distinguish the fact that it was a dream.  Is it possible that this happens at the subconscious level even while awake?  Certainly for some people this will be more pronounced than for others.  This can help explain why Joseph had many visions, revelations, etc. which he deemed external realities, yet many, and even most, prophets after him have not.  Joseph was a visionary, for whatever reason.  That does not necessarily mean that his experiences were literal, external, physical realities.  And what if, indeed, they weren’t?

This does not, in my mind, diminish the idea that the metaphorical ideas shared through these experiences can help us in our lives.  Nor does it mean that the organization that he started was worthless even if it’s origins were slightly less miraculous than we like to tell.  Muhammad had visions, and conversations with the angel Gabriel which were eventually written down to form the Quran.  The idea that Muhammad wrote that book himself is heretical to a Muslim.  Yet if it really came from the angel Gabriel should we not heed the teachings contained therein?  But in Mormonism we don’t.  In fact, we don’t give it a second thought.  My solution to this conundrum is the same as that of Joseph.  Muhammad was a visionary.  He even wrote a beautifully inspired book that is every bit as sacred, special, and inspired as the Book of Mormon. However, I would suggest that the truths therein, and even his conversations with the angel Gabriel were internal experiences and metaphors.

This viewpoint makes it a lot easier for me to have faith in Joseph’s teachings, Christ, God, etc.  I have internalized these concepts.  They are metaphors for my spirituality.  I don’t need to reconcile them with science.  I don’t need to reconcile them with reason, or logic, or rationalism.  And I don’t need to reconcile them with any specific brand of religion as they all have metaphors that can help me in my life.  I can have the celestial kingdom right here, right now in my life, by being humble, kind, loving others, etc.  If we will live the way He advocated, we can unleash the inner god and in this way have a testimony of the doctrine.  This, I believe is what Jesus meant when he said “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”  (John 7:17)

Is faith in an external reality necessary for spiritual growth?  If faith moves us to action, is faith in metaphorical ideas as powerful as faith in physical realities?  Does intellectualism present a problem for faith in external realities?  Is that problem reduced if we only have faith in metaphorical ideas?

Discuss.

[1] Wikipedia article on faith.
[2] Wikipedia article on intellectualism