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.

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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.

I once had the neighbor from hell. I use the expression with theological intent.

Smart and relentlessly treacherous, he was somewhere on the spectrum from malignant narcissist to full-fledged sociopath, and I had no desire to observe closely enough to find out where. I do not know what horror had befallen him — if anything more significant than a stray cosmic ray hitting the genome at the wrong time — but he seemed to be without sincere empathy toward anyone. Worse, he seemed to have grown to love cruelty as the only thing giving meaning to his life. He was Jack Nicholson as the Joker: “So many people to hurt, so little time!” If he was not planning or executing some plot against one person, it was because he was busy with a more hated target.

Our family’s first hostile contact with this guy arose innocently enough. His daughter had a cat. When his daughter was living with her mother — he was, of course, in the middle of a messy divorce — he left it outside in the cold and wet and the hot and dry. My wife, not wanting the cat to suffer, began putting out a bowl of water on our porch in the heat, and a little food and a towel for the cat to shelter under in the cold. Polite suggestions to him that leaving the cat outside wasn’t a good idea led to several conflicted stories about why it was all right, but a clear acknowledgement that the cat was, indeed, his responsibility.

And then, after this had gone on for several months, a middle-aged oriental woman, not speaking English very well, appeared at our door one evening. She asked us if the cat then lurking behind our front bushes belonged to our neighbor, and my wife innocently and honestly answered yes.

And with that simple act, we moved unexpectedly from peace to a full-scale personal war in which our spiritual and emotional health and livelihood was directly threatened.

The woman had purchased the property from a military doctor and his wife when they transferred out of state to a new assignment. She had invested  her savings to make the buy, and then rented the property to our neighbor through an agency. Home prices in our county had been exploding, and she hoped to make a good profit from her investment. Instead, she found a nightmare.

In the year he’d been there, he’d managed to find some loophole each month to avoid paying a cent of rent. County codes here are built more to protect immigrant tenants from slumlords; they really were not designed with what an immoral tenant could do to an immigrant landlord in mind. Heating and cooling systems or plumbing would continually “break” — there were sometimes different heating companies called to the home for repairs on the same day, especially when the first arrivals found the systems to be working properly. He would call for repairs to be made, then deny access to the repairmen. On one occasion, I saw him demand reseeding of grass in his front yard for drainage, and then slip out to the yard that weekend and destroy the new turf.  On another, I saw him inspect a damaged fence, and then, rather than report it, hide the fact from the landlady until another month’s rent was due.

Now, burning through her savings for mortgage payments and repairs  with no end in sight, being harassed by the man by telephone and intimidated by him to the point she was afraid to come to the home without an escort, she saw a possible way to break the lease: it had a no-pet provision. And so she asked about the cat. We answered honestly — and then the neighbor came after us.

My wife had been supporting us by teaching individual piano students from our home for years, and had been the primary breadwinner since my heart attack. He filed complaints that what we were doing instead was a group studio in violation of zoning, and demanded we be shut down. He stole trash during the night and attempted to frame me for illegal dumping of medical waste. He attempted to intimidate parents from bringing children for lessons by rushing to the edge of our property and, without any explanation, taking pictures of the children, and then the license plates of their cars like they were drug dealers. Every night there was drilling into the walls between our homes  or hammering on them, and we never knew if or how he was trying to sabotage our systems. We spent thousands in legal fees just to protect ourselves.

As I began to ask myself who was this guy, and why was he doing this, I found in public legal records that he had a long record of defiance to authority, with a couple of dozen violations, including jail time, for various disputes with neighbors seemingly everywhere he’d lived since adulthood. Simultaneously with his dispute with us and the landlady, he was on trial for phone harassment of his wife, and in a domestic violence dispute with a girlfriend he’d been with less than a month. He sought out potential violations by other witnesses in the neighborhood (such as expired license plates), and threatened to expose them if they testified. He went after the Home Owners Association President, an African-American, by making racial slurs in the presence of her daughter. He went after the county enforcement officials and tried to get their bosses to fire them; he went after the lawyers for conflicts of interest; he tried to get judges removed from his trials. You get the point.

The pressure on us grew more dispiriting, or perhaps I should say dark-spiriting, as months went by with no resolution. And we found ourselves increasingly turning to prayer for deliverance, as we felt imprisoned in our own home, never knowing what we would have to defend against tomorrow. And, as necessary, we were indeed delivered. In a couple of cases, traps laid for us were thwarted by unlikely coincidences. But the darkness, though warded off, was always present.

And then, in one of those deep prayer experiences, I heard in my mind my enemy’s soul cry out in an agony to God to be delivered from the darkness that enveloped him. I do not believe his physical form recognized what his own spirit was doing; he seemed to love the darkness and would cling to his cellphone (from which he harassed victims) like it was a totem of power he could not be without for even a moment. But I heard the Holy Spirit answer: “He is forbidden to remain as he is.” And the word “forbidden” carried all of the undeniable weight of a requirement to choose salvation or doom.

A few days later, entirely unbidden, while I was still trying to understand in my own mind the previous experience,  I heard his soul cry out again that he would be lost. And equally unbidden, my own prayers suddenly changed.

Instead of praying that God would get this guy off my family’s back, I found myself praying that God would get that darkness off this guy’s back. Because I saw that there was truly a predator, and my neighbor was the unsuspecting prey. And I was weeping for him, and praying as hard and as intensely as I have ever prayed for anything in my life.

It was the first time in my life that I truly loved my enemy.  Not decided that someone wasn’t really my enemy (six months after he finally left the neighborhood, he came back to see if sabotage he’d previously prepared for the air conditioning unit had, in fact,  caused the system to fail, leaving new renters he’d never even met sweltering in a summer heat wave for two days). Not just trying to treat my enemy with justice. Not simply restraining my self-defense. For once, I knew what it meant to love an enemy, even knowing he would remain my enemy, and that the existing situation was forbidden to continue.

But why was it only “for once”? What makes it so hard for me — for us — to stay in the loving attitude that the fate of the soul of my enemy (let alone the soul of a stranger or a friend) is of eternal significance even if I must oppose that enemy with all my might?

That seems to be something to spend some time contemplating as we remember this weekend a day of great violence.

Suzy: Dad, I’m sorry I scratched the couch!
Dad: It’s okay, just don’t do it again.
2 minutes later
Suzy: Dad, I’m sorry I picked my nose.
Dad: Yeah, we don’t pick our noses or they bleed.
2 minutes later
Suzy: Dad, I’m sorry I kicked the chair.
Dad: Yeah, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.
repeat ad nauseum
next day
Suzy: Mom, I need to tell you a secret.
Mom: Suzy, if you’re saying sorry for something, I don’t want to hear it!
Suzy: I won’t mom, I just need to tell you a secret.
Mom: okay
Suzy: Mom, I’m sorry I jumped on the floor.
Mom: Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
repeat ad nauseum for 2 weeks
on a car ride home one afternoon
Suzy: Dad, I need to tell you something
Dad: Sure Suzy, what is it?
Suzy: I’m sorry I kicked the seat in the truck
Dad: Okay, thanks for telling me, just don’t kick it anymore.
dad turns on music
Suzy: Dad…Dad…DAD!
dad turns down music
Dad: Yes Suzy?
Suzy: I’m sorry I pulled out one of my hairs.
Dad: Okay, okay, just try to sit there and listen to the music.
dad turns music back up
repeat, AGAIN, ad nauseum (yes, my child is obsessive/compulsive)
Suzy: Dad…Dad…Dad…
dad is ignoring 5 year old
Suzy: DAAAADDDDDD!!!!
dad turns off music
Dad: WHAT! If you tell me you’re sorry one more, I’m gonna lose it!
Suzy: I’m sorry I wiped a booger on the seat.
Dad: Look, Suzy, you don’t have to say sorry for everything okay!
Suzy: But dad, I’m supposed to say sorry when I do something wrong.
Dad: speechless

I’ve been on my daughter’s case since she was born. “Don’t do that!” “Knock it off!” etc. She also has learned to say sorry when she does something wrong.  Honestly, I never thought this would come back to haunt me in quite this way!

I’ve laid out so many things that she should and shouldn’t do, and she violates so many of them just by nature of being a kid. But it was getting extremely tedious when every time she opened her mouth we had a confessional! I told her to stop apologizing all the time. Of course that’s not really what I meant. When she told me she was supposed to say sorry when she did something wrong, I simply didn’t know what to say. Of course she should apologize when she does something wrong, but clearly not everything was wrong, or at least it wasn’t a big enough deal to warrant guilt and/or shame. But is it a big deal? I had taken the time to tell her (repeatedly) not to do those things in the past, how should she know what is a big deal and what is not? How should she know when she’s apologizing too much, and which things warrant a real apology? How should she know which rules are really the important ones to keep, and which ones aren’t?  Perhaps I should have been more careful in my criticizing her actions.  Perhaps I should have just let some things slide, picking my battles more wisely.  After all, a parent can only handle so many confessionals!

Having served my mission in Ireland, I am familiar with the Catholic iconography that is present in many of their Churches. Having been raised Mormon I am familiar with the critical attitude toward these types of statues and paintings; and yet as I surveyed these works of art, some of them had a real impact upon me. Statues of the lacerated Jesus or of the dying Jesus or the crucified Jesus forced me to hold back tears for fear of embarrassment. Even a bust of the Virgin Mary moved me deeply. I sensed that it is a real loss to Mormon culture that we do not readily engage with these products of devotion.

Much of the LDS art that I have seen of Jesus seems banal and insipid. We see a calm, collected and/or kind Jesus; and yet he is rarely depicted in any of the extremes of suffering or joy that was surely part of the humanity of his life. I am aware of exceptions; but even these pail in insignificance to what these Spanish artists created. I believe that Jesus was, at times calm, collected and kind; but I also believe he experienced the full range of human emotions (good and bad). I believe his model for living was abundance.

More confusing to me is that the LDS ‘Lamb of God’ video is different. It makes an explicit attempt to evoke this type of passionate response in the audience by alluding to the vicious suffering of Jesus. Why is it that film is more acceptable as a means of presenting this kind of devotional material? Is this merely a cultural distinction, an anti-catholic hangover from Nineteenth century America, and if so is it not about time that we extend Priesthood legitimacy to all worthy forms of Art.

Perhaps Eugene England was right when he said that Mormons do not experience the ‘tragic’ as frequently as others because of the success of our religion, but I doubt it.

Yet this raises another question, why do we need to use these different media to help us connected with Jesus and his suffering. Are we more able to sense the visceral reality of his wounds if they are shown to us? Can we more easily believe in the atonement if we can see the suffering of Christ? If this is so, would not these type of ‘passion’ iconography be a useful medium to help latter-day Saints explore their relationship to our Lord?

Perhaps Mormons need to more fully explore the spiritual artistic heritages that are rooted in other faiths as well as trying to promote our own. I certainly feel that my faith has been enriched by some of what our extended Christian heritage has produced.

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.

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.

Jungian dream analysis includes several underlying assumptions:

• that dreams are subjectively meaningful for the individual
• that people, objects, animals, and events in the dream are representative of the dreamer’s inner life (and not to be taken at face value or literally)
• that a proper interpretation of dreams can lead the dreamer to great self-awareness and to understanding the psychological direction of his/her life at a given time
• that some themes, events or characters in a dream are archetypal or representative of collective spirituality, not just reflective of personal meaning

So, to apply Jungian dream interpretation to the First Vision, we would consider the following elements:

People.  In Jungian perspectives, people in dreams are almost always a manifestation of a part of the person dreaming.  There are seven archetypes one may encounter in a dream:

1. The Persona is the image you present to the world in your waking life. It is your public mask. In the dream world, the persona is represented by the Self. The Self may or may not resemble you physically or may or may not behave as your would. For example, the persona can appear as a scarecrow or a beggar in your dream. However, you still know that this “person” in your dream is you.
2. The Shadow is the rejected and repressed aspects of yourself. It is the part of yourself that you do not want the world to see because it is ugly or unappealing. It symbolizes weakness, fear, or anger. In dreams, this figure is represented by a stalker, murderer, a bully, or pursuer. It can be a frightening figure or even a close friend or relative. Their appearance often makes you angry or leaves you scared. They force you to confront things that you don’t want to see or hear. You must learn to accept the shadow aspect of yourself for its messages are often for your own good, even though it may not be immediately apparent.
3. The Anima / Animus is the female and male aspects of yourself. Everyone possess both feminine and masculine qualities. In dreams, the anima appears as a highly feminized figure, while the animus appears as a hyper masculine form. Or you may dream that you are dressed in women’s clothing, if you are male or that you grow a beard, if you are female. These dream imageries appear depending on how well you are able to integrate the feminine and masculine qualities within yourself. They serve as a reminder that you must learn to acknowledge or express your masculine (be more assertive) or feminine side (be more emotional).
4. The Divine Child is your true self in its purest form. It not only symbolizes your innocence, your sense of vulnerability, and your helplessness, but it represents your aspirations and full potential. You are open to all possibilities. In the dreamscape, this figure is represented by a baby or young child.
5. The Wise Old Man /Woman is the helper in your dreams. Represented by a teacher, father, doctor, priest or some other unknown authority figure, they serve to offer guidance and words of wisdom. They appear in your dream to steer and guide you into the right direction.
6. The Great Mother is the nurturer. The Great Mother appears in your dreams as your own mother, grandmother, or other nurturing figure. She provides you with positive reassurance. Negatively, they may be depicted as a witch or old bag lady in which case they can be associated with seduction, dominance and death. This juxtaposition is rooted in the belief by some experts that the real mother who is the giver of life is also at the same time jealous of our growth away from her.
7. The Trickster, as the name implies, plays jokes to keep you from taking yourself too seriously. The trickster may appear in your dream when you have overreach or misjudge a situation. Or he could find himself in your dream when you are uncertain about a decision or about where you want to go in life. The trickster often makes you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed, sometimes mocking you or exposing you to your vulnerabilities. He may take on subtle forms, sometimes even changing its shape.

Setting.  This includes the mental state of the dreamer as well as the dream setting.

Action.  This refers to the events that occur in the dream, and the actions of the person the dreamer identifies as the self.

Objects or Symbols.  These could be archetypes (symbols common to all cultures) or symbols with unique personal significance to the dreamer.

Emotions.  These reveal information important to the interpretation of the dream.

Animals.  These represent our basest human instincts.

In considering the various accounts of the First Vision, the elements that have a Jungian significance are:  the Persona (with a possible link to the Divine Child given the age of the dreamer), the Shadow, the Wise Old Man, and consideration for setting, action, and emotions.  There are no versions in which the vision included female figures or animals, so those elements will be considered irrelevant for this analysis.

Setting.  JS was yearning for forgiveness of his sins (1832 version) and spiritual enlightenment (all versions).  He sought “wisdom” from God directly.  He was also obsessed with his personal welfare and salvation.  This setting (pre-vision) carried into the dream state.

Immediately, JS is confronted by a Shadow type.  Based on Jungian analysis, this Shadow is JS’s repressed negative side, his weaknesses and subconscious flaws.  These flaws “bind” his dream self (the Persona), making it impossible for him to move (to progress) or speak (to represent his own interests).  IOW, in order to continue to seek enlightenment, JS had to confront and overcome his own flaws that were holding him back and making any progress impossible.  (Often, dreams make funny little puns like this.  You are “wrestling with your demons” figuratively in life, so in your dream state, you do so literally).

When he is released from his Shadow side, he finds the enlightenment he seeks in the form of light and a visit from either an angelic messenger (1832) or God the Father & the son (1838).  Regardless, these are familiar archetypes for the Wise Old Man/Woman:  an authority (what bigger religious authority could he envision?) who gives direction or wisdom or advice.  He petitions for forgiveness of his sins (1832) and to know how to obtain salvation/which church to join (1838).  Of course, these archetypes also represent parts of our own personality.  IOW, Jung might say that JS has tapped into his inner wisdom, his internal wellspring of creativity and enlightenment.

We all know the specifics of the answer he was given as recorded in the 1838 version.  Consider that advice from a Jungian perspective, and there is a subtle change.  JS asks which external source of truth is right for him to follow.  He is told to stop looking outside himself for enlightenment because those sources of wisdom are not correct and are corrupted by others’ perspectives.  He is left to wait for further inspiration (or to find wisdom from within as Jung would see the God figure as a manifestation of JS’s spiritual side).

This is a classic hero myth: the quest for spiritual wisdom.  The hero must first reconcile his double nature (the Shadow and Persona) in order to transcend and achieve enlightenment.  Interestingly, one could also see the endowment as another telling of this same story, personalized for attendees – one’s progressive quest for spiritual wisdom and enlightenment, with a similar culmination.

So, what do you think?  Is a Jungian view of the First Vision useful?  Does this add meaning for you?  Do you consider dreams and visions too similar for this type of approach to be of value?  Discuss.

But now, after 36 years of practice, I’m rethinking prayer.  In the interest of full disclosure, let me say that I’m not a “lose the keys, pray for keys, find the keys” sort of guy by nature.  When I hear those sorts of stories, I am more likely to roll my eyes than dab with a Kleenex.  Nevertheless, I have a confession to make:  I suffer from Enos Envy (E.E., for short).

You all know the story:  Enos was a young man who, while raised with a knowledge of the truth, found himself having strayed from it.  Then, while out hunting, he had epiphany of sorts, which left him with a heart full of joy and a soul that “hungered.”  Overwhelmed with these rushing emotions, Enos prayed.  And prayed.  And prayed.

The zenith of this day-long supplication was a conversation with God, in which God basically agreed to a long list of requests presented by Enos.  Not only did God forgive Enos’s sins, he agreed to, among other things:  (i) visit the Lamanites according to their faith, and (ii) preserve the records that would eventually become the Book of Mormon.  Pretty good for a day’s work, right?

We use this scriptural account to teach one another about the power of prayer.   In most recountings, however, Enos’s powerful experience is reduced down to a simple formula to be followed (the Enos Equation):

Earnest Prayer = Tangible Results (i.e., blessings)

This is the model of prayer I hear lauded consistently as the ideal.   A quick example:  Just this past Sunday, our EQ lesson dealt with temple worship.  The instructor spoke at great length about the revelations that await us in the Celestial Room.  His lesson culminated with his promise that if we want those revelations and/or spiritual manifestations, “all we need to do is pray.”  Citing Christ’s words in Matthew 7:7, he said:  “‘Ask, and it shall be given you.’  That’s the promise; it’s a guarantee from God.”

This used to be a great source of consternation for me.  So often I felt as if my prayers simply went unheard — I did poorly on tests, both my sisters ended up with MS, and I often was plagued with doubt.  That’s where the Enos Envy kicked in.  I was praying with real intent:  why wasn’t I getting the same results?

As I have thought about prayer, I have come to see the Enos Equation as missing the point of the story.  It has all of the right elements — faith, prayer and blessings certainly are wonderful things and belong together in the same sentence — but the emphasis is wrong.  In the traditional telling, the Enos Equation focuses on ends of prayer, rather than the means by which we communicate our desires to God.  In my example above, the well-intentioned EQ teacher taught prayer as the direct method to by which to obtain revelation, with nary a word about how we should approach God with our requests.

Taken to its extreme, this view of prayer smacks of the Prosperity Theology (or “Health and Wealth Gospel”) preached in Evangelical mega-churches.  In a nutshell, these churches teach that God wants us to be financially prosperous; if we want a new Mercedes, all we need do is ask for it and, if God deems us “godly” enough, we’ll get it.  And the secular version of this approach is wildly popular, as well.  After reading “The Secret,” some folks I know have taken to “sending” their requests “out to the Universe.”  Want a new a new and bigger home, get the Universe on the horn and you’ll moving in sooner than you think.

In short, the Enos Equation reduces God (or the Universe, for you atheists out there) into a spectral Santa Claus, just waiting to grant even the most materialistic wishes of our hearts.  To be clear, I am not suggesting that those who adopt this approach pray only with selfish intent.  But focus on self is inherent in the model.

This strikes me as backwards.  For me, the important part of Enos’s account is his “wrestle” with God which preceded his experience.  To that end, I propose a Revised Enos Equation:

Faith + Humility + Prayer = Communion w/God

In this formulation, the emphasis is on our relationship with God, not on what he can do for us.  Said another way, the point of prayer is put ourselves on a spiritual and emotional plane (i.e., the “wrestle”) where we can communicate openly with God.  This “wrestle” is no easy feat — it requires faith, humility, patience, sacrifice, etc. — characteristics Enos had in spades.  For example, think about how we teach our kids to pray:  kneeling with eyes closed, arms folded, and head bowed.  Simple gestures, but they bespeak a reverence for the act of communicating with God.   I don’t imagine God cares one whit about the position of limbs during prayer, or that he conditions his blessings on our ability to pray in ritualistic form.  But these gestures can help us to focus ourselves such that we God can speak with us.  The means by we speak with God matter far more than whether we obtain the end we seek.

Even with this new perspective, I still suffer from occasional bouts of Enos Envy.  But now, I’m less concerned about my abilities to call forth the tangible blessings of heaven, than I am jealous of Enos’s ability to find peace with God, to reach a state of mind where God can communicate with him directly.  So what if I haven’t moved a mountain or cured anyone’s cancer?  If I can, even on an occasional basis, reach that state of Enos-like zen, then I consider my prayer a success.  Blessings will follow according to God’s will.  I  no longer feel I have the authority/right to demand such blessings at will.  God is God, and that’s good enough for me.

So, do you suffer from Enos Envy?  What are your thoughts on, and expectations regarding, prayer?  (I would have created a poll, but I am far too lazy for such an endeavor.  Perhaps I should throw that out to the Universe — check back in a day or two to see if my wish has been granted )

*Anyone who served a mission South of the border offered this prayer more than once, guaranteed! Unfortunately for some, God is sometimes cruel, even to his beloved servants.

For much of my life I really loved the Bible Dictionary definition of prayer. This definition emphasizes our need to communicate with God as His children. More specifically it states:
“Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant, but that are made conditional on our asking for them.”

I often wonder about the form of prayer. You know how it goes: address Heavenly Father, thank Him for blessings, ask for blessings, close in the name of Jesus Christ. What does this mean?

Recently I read “The Demon-Haunted World” by Carl Sagan. There is a portion where he pokes at our understanding of prayer. He says:
“Does prayer work at all? Which ones?  There’s a category of prayer in which God is begged to intervene in human history or just to right some real or imagined injustice or natural calamity – for example, when a bishop from the American West prays for God to intervene and end a devastating dry spell. Why is the prayer needed? Didn’t God know of the drought? Was he unaware that it threatened the bishop’s parishioners? What is implied here about the limitations of a supposedly omnipotent and omniscient deity? The bishop asked his followers to pray as well. Is God more likely to intervene when many pray for mercy or justice than when only a few do? – Carl Sagan, “The Demon-Haunted World”, p. 276″

I think Sagan’s point is a good one. Many literalist religious folk are sure that their prayers make the difference and that God blesses them, or others because of their prayerful efforts. At the very least they have confused correlation and causation, not to mention several other logical fallacies. They tend to ignore the times that God doesn’t bless anyone, or at least not in the way we want, and they regular find convenient explanation for God’s actions, or lack of actions. Many of them even stand in disbelief that a skeptic cannot see the hand of God in a recovery after well-meaning prayers on behalf of the afflicted. The entire idea of God answering prayers seems, to me, to be a bit presumptuous by assuming we are capable of speculating on God’s behavior. Worse than that it feels a bit too puppet-like for me.

On the other hand, I think Sagan has missed a very important metaphysical aspect of prayer. I will try to elucidate these points by responding to Sagan’s questions.

• Sagan: Does prayer work at all?
• jmb275: Yes, but I don’t think it works in the way that many believe – both skeptics and orthodox alike.
• Sagan: Which ones?
• jmb275: All that are asked in sincerity, because that’s what makes the prayer effective.
• Sagan: Why is the prayer needed?
• jmb275: It isn’t needed in an external, literal sense. But it may be helpful in a personal sense.
• Sagan: Didn’t God know of the drought?
• jmb275: Yes, I suppose so, but that’s irrelevant because prayer is not about God.
• Sagan: Was he unaware that it threatened the bishop’s parishioners?
• jmb275: This is once again irrelevant.
• Sagan: What is implied here about the limitations of a supposedly omnipotent and omniscient deity?
• jmb275: Absolutely nothing is implied because many skeptics, like many literalist religious people, have largely misunderstood the purpose of prayer.
• Sagan: Is God more likely to intervene when many pray for mercy or justice than when only a few do?
• jmb275: No, because prayer is not a matter of God intervening, or about numbers, or about blessings.

So what is prayer? To me, prayer is a personal yearning. It is our opportunity to commune with the inner god, the god in embryo. It is our opportunity to clear our mind, to focus on our most fundamental wants and needs, and decide what is really important in our lives. Most importantly, I believe it is our opportunity to reflect, and show gratitude – whether to a personal God or just something other than ourselves. Similarly, I also find great value in meditation, clearing my mind, focusing on breathing, living, and just being. It is my own personal and literal study of ontology.

Recently President Monson, in an Ensign article said:

“Will you join me as we look in on a typical Latter-day Saint family offering prayers unto the Lord? Father, mother, and each of the children kneel, bow their heads, and close their eyes. A sweet spirit of love, unity, and peace fills the home. As father hears his tiny son pray unto God that his dad will do the right things and be obedient to the Lord’s bidding, do you think that such a father would find it difficult to honor the prayer of his precious son? As a teenage daughter hears her sweet mother plead unto the Lord that her daughter will be inspired in the selection of her companions, that she will prepare herself for a temple marriage, don’t you believe that such a daughter will seek to honor this humble, pleading petition of her mother, whom she so dearly loves? When father, mother, and each of the children earnestly pray that the fine sons in the family will live worthily that they may, in due time, receive a call to serve as ambassadors of the Lord in the mission fields of the Church, don’t we begin to see how such sons grow to young manhood with an overwhelming desire to serve as missionaries? – President Thomas S. Monson, “Come unto Him in Prayer and Faith”, Ensign, March 2009″

Let me offer my interpretation of the above remarks. I believe that family prayer, like personal prayer is for us. We do it because it helps us show our love, reverence, and respect for those we love. We do it because it is our opportunity to plead aloud for solutions to the problems each family member faces, announcing our support, and love for that individual. We do it because it instills in our children, and ourselves, a reverence for a cause more noble than preservation of self. We do it because it gives us a chance to count our blessings, and name them one by one.

I submit that prayers are more about us than they are about God; that family prayers are effective because of what we say (overheard by our loved ones), not necessarily by any acts of God; and that the purpose of prayer is to align our will with what’s really important in our lives. Hopefully, what’s really important are other people, and our relationships with them. In this way we become the agent to secure the blessings that God is willing to grant to us and others. God’s blessings, I submit, are not conditional upon us asking for them, but are dependent on us recognizing the needs of others, placing them above our own, and becoming the means of providing those blessings.

So what do you all think? Does God literally answer prayers? Or are the prayers answered because we focus on what we need? Is there an unseen force in collective prayer, whether in large groups, or just a family that God recognizes? Or is it an exercise in coming together in a unified purpose?  Take the following two polls and tell us what you think.

[poll id="45"] [poll id="46"]

Discuss.

In Logic, we learn that it is a fallacy to use something to verify itself. Let me give you an example from my Logic textbook from class (I’m not making this up):

The Book of Mormon is true because it was written by Joseph Smith. Joseph Smith wrote the truth because he was divinely inspired. We know that Joseph Smith was divinely inspired because the Book of Mormon says that he was, and the Book of Mormon is true.

Let me add that I don’t go to BYU, this is a secular class at a secular university. I thought it was quite amusing to find something like that in my textbook. So, never mind the example, it should be obvious that this is circular reasoning. We can’t use the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith to verify each other. We need a confirmation from an independent source, such as the Holy Ghost in this case. Can you imagine what our life would be like if we just believed anything that claimed to be true?

After we discussed this example in class (no one knew I was LDS), I began to think about this and approached my teacher after class. I asked him, “Let me ask you something, how do we know that Logic is true except through a logical process? And how do we know human reasoning is true except through human reasoning?” He told me that I wasn’t the first person to think of this, and there is a field called Meta-Logic that tries to understand why we use Logic, but the fact of the matter is, Logic is just the best we can conceive of given our brains, and all we really have to go on.

Which basically means that we can’t really say that we know anything, except maybe that we ourselves exist (cogito ergo sum). Christian theologian William Lane Craig, in his debate against atheist Peter Atkins, argues that in order to believe Science, there are just some things that we have to assume are true despite the fact that we can’t prove them to be true, such as that other minds exist, that the speed of light is constant, that the Universe didn’t appear five minutes ago with the appearance of age, etc. We may say that we can derive strong inferences about the Universe based on the evidence we experience in what we think is our memories.

But the obvious conclusion, one that hardly needs proving, is that human reasoning is flawed.

Then again, our minds are pretty amazing at the same time. In fact, there are lots of things a human mind can do that a computer or an animal’s brain can’t do, such as contemplate its own existence. So can we rely on our own thoughts or not?

When I came to my revelation outlined in the last post, I was praying for an answer, sort of, but really I was just thinking. In hindsight, I think that most answers I get from God come from this type of activity. In a way, one could say that I wasn’t necessarily having a conversation with God, nor was I asking for an answer, but I was trying to align my thoughts with God’s thoughts, at least momentarily. Or, in other words, I was trying to think how God thinks for a short amount of time, so I could see the purpose and answer to my nagging question. Now, I don’t have the capacity of thinking as the Lord does. For that, I would need God’s mind, which I don’t have. I have a man’s mind. And yet, as I thought, I was trying to see the Universe as God sees it.

The “Classical” Model of Revelation as taught by the LDS Church could be built in several ways. I will represent it thus:

Dilemma -> Study -> Ask -> Revelation -> Act -> Confirmation

Or, in other words, we encounter a dilemma, we study the issue out in our minds, we ask God to give us an answer, he gives us revelation, we act on that revelation, and then He reveals to us a confirmation through the Holy Ghost that we did the right thing.

In “real life” however, things aren’t quite so perfect. Sometimes we ask and we get no revelation whatsoever, then we have to act on our own accord, when suddenly God confirms to us that we made the right decision. Sometimes we receive revelation out of the blue, telling us to do something or solve a problem we didn’t know existed. The different elements of the revelation model can happen out of order or not at all. I received my answer as I was studying, before I had really asked God a question.

Perhaps it was because, for a small moment, God allowed me to think as He thinks.

Isaiah says it quite elegantly in Isaiah 55:7-9.

7 Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.
9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Of course, we don’t have the capacity for thought that the Lord has. Any type of revelation I receive is like a two-dimensional shadow of a three-dimensional object. Most would find my “answer” to my previous question (music) to be completely unsatisfactory, and I would say to them that this is because it is one possible shadow of the three-dimensional object of the question, and that a different shadow would be more satisfactory to them. That’s why it’s personal revelation.

But it’s kind of interesting to think that perhaps I got a small, two-dimensional glimpse of something bigger. So that will be my goal as I pray now. Perhaps prayer does not always have to be a rote, rehearsed, structured thing. Perhaps the studying and meditating is just as important, and as we try our best to align our thoughts with God’s thoughts, or at least force our thoughts through the lens of God, we will be given more glimpses of what he sees.

Don’t just think. GodThink.

I should copyright that.

On days when she is happy with everyone, she’ll say, “thank you for our family.”  More often than not, however, she’s still stinging from some perceived wrong against her earlier in the day.  Prayer time is her way of unleashing the ultimate weapon — enlisting God as her ally in the fight against the bad guy.  For example, if she’s mad at me (this is the case 99% of the time), she’ll say, “please bless Mommy, Tess and Jane.”  Notice anyone missing from that list?  If she’s mad at her sister, I’ll make the cut, but little sis will not.  In that case, when it is little sister’s turn, you can imagine who will be omitted from her prayer.

After years on the front lines, this intra-family cosmic warfare doesn’t provoke much reaction from me anymore (the same can’t be said, unfortunately, for the unlucky sister on the outs that night).  But something I heard last week brought it to mind and has me thinking about the ways in which we use prayer as a weapon against others.

Acting on Clay’s advice, I’ve been working my way through several years worth of Sunstone’s “Pillars of Faith” sessions.  He’s right, they are a great listen. The other night, I came upon a session (SLC 1994, to be exact) that opens with a prayer, which includes the following passage:

“We ask a special blessing on our Church. We ask a blessing of healing, that those who have seen fit to discipline those among us who have been denied their membership in this Church, that they may rethink these things and that in time our Church may be healed and that we may enjoy the love of Christ among all members and that we’ll be able to enjoy diversity and grow.”

On its face, this prayer may seem like nothing out of the ordinary.  I do not doubt that it is sincere, it does not single anyone out as an evildoer or call anybody to repentance, and when heard as whole, it is couched in familiar Mormon-speak (“We thank thee for . . .”)   Nevertheless, this wording, albeit in a subtle manner, definitely pushes a specific agenda:  “I’m right.  You’re wrong.  God, make my foe see the light.  Amen.”  In other words, the member offering the prayer is invoking God’s power not to seek assistance for another, but rather to push that other person to see things her way.  Use of the phrase “special blessing” alone does not alter or mask the prayer’s intent.  That’s a play straight out of my daughters’ handbook.

Lest I be accused of bias, let me make clear that this tactic is not deployed exclusively by the Sunstone crowd or others who lean a bit left of center, Church-wise.  Let me give you an example that I see nearly every single week.  Here in Southern California, we’re being inundated with Prop. 8 electioneering both in and out of the chapel on Sunday morning.  I often hear prayers offered in which the member thanks God for “having the understanding” that this particular piece of legislation is “Your plan,” “Your Gospel,” or “the manner by which Your purposes may be achieved.”  (No, I’m not making this up.)  Regardless of how of you (and the prayer-giver) feel about Prop. 8, this prayer inarguably serves the same persuasive end as the Sunstone prayer above.  It’s the equivalent of saying:  “God, please bless all of us here who think Prop. 8 is divinely-inspired, and help those who don’t to get with the program.  Amen.”

This “prayer as a weapon” approach certainly does not jibe with the example Christ set.  Quite to the contrary, it radically distorts it.  The thrust of the Lord’s Prayer is an expression of gratitude to God (“Hallowed be thy name”).  Others are mentioned only in the context of our obligation to “forgive our debtors.” Similarly, in the Garden of Gethsemane, the focus of Christ’s supplication was inward:  “Let this cup pass from me.”  In both cases, Christ did not seek to use his communication with God as a means to force others to accept his message, despite the foreknowledge of what lay ahead for him.

All of this has me asking, is seeking divine assistance in persuading others to come around to one’s particular point of view inappropriate?  I have to believe that the answer, as a general matter, is “no.”    We offer these sorts of prayers all of the time.  Heck, that’s the only kind of prayer missionaries know how to give:  “Please bless Hermano Ortiz to understand that this is the true Church.” But, in my mind, there is a line beyond which our prayers transform into attempts at celestial manipulation, rather than sincere requests on behalf of our fellow man.  Pinpointing exactly where that line lies, however, is tricky.  Perhaps, like obscenity, it is a “I know it when I hear it” standard.  What do you think?

In any event, these thoughts have led me to re-evaluate how I pray.  So often, I rely on the rote recitations learned through 36 years as a Mormon, with little thought given to the true intent behind my words.  Do I want Brother Jones to receive a blessing for his own good or for mine?  What do I have to gain from such a request, and is that the determining factor in how I frame my prayer?  This is a new experience for me and, I’ll admit, I don’t always like my answers to these questions.  But it is worth the effort. Otherwise, how am I ever going to be able to teach my daughters what prayer is really all about — sincere, humble and selfless communication with the Almighty.