• I like the idea of Jesus as a lawyer for humanity.  Having a defense attorney, someone totally in your court who will fight for your cause is enormously appealing to me.
• I like the symbolism of the atonement:  olive press (Gethsemane), the name “at one” ment, the mingling of the divine and the human.
• I like the idea of Bodhisattva, a voluntary sacrifice for others.  But I like it more as one who might sacrifice than as one who would be the recipient of the sacrifice.  Similarly, I’m somewhat uncomfortable receiving gifts.  Although I’m not that comfortable giving them either.  So there you go.

What I have generally not loved about the concept of “atonement”:

• that it creates a religion of losers, appealing to the down-and-outers. Dennis Miller once observed that the prison inmates always seem to find Jesus when no one else down here will talk to them anymore.
• that it is a contrasting idea to theosis (the seeds of divinity within man), a concept which I find inherently more appealing. I’d rather focus on strengths & potential than weakness and shortcomings.  I’m just a cock-eyed optimist!  I do find sadness somewhat off-putting.
• the idea of justice and mercy that is represented feels man-made and not like something that God would be bound to follow. I don’t like the legalistic metaphors often used to explain the atonement.

Here are a few of the ways the atonement has been viewed over the centuries, each with a unique insight:

• Ransom Theory.  In this metaphor from the 4^th century, Jesus liberates mankind from slavery to Satan and thus death by giving his own life as a ransom. Victory over Satan consists of swapping the life of the perfect (Jesus), for the lives of the imperfect (mankind).  A variation of this view is known as the “Christus Victor” theory, in which Jesus defeats Satan in a spiritual battle and frees the enslaved humans from their captor.  (like an action movie with hostages being rescued).  This one sounds kind of cool in a Die Hard sort of way, but it also doesn’t ring quite true for me.  A variation of this I heard on my mission was someone buying a cage full of dirty, diseased birds with lousy attitudes.  Not my favorite perspective on humanity.
• Penal Substitution.  Another metaphor, from the 11^th century, is that man is in debt to a sovereign God who has the power to forgive debt, but also has to uphold the laws. In this metaphor, only a perfect sacrifice could satisfy the demands of the transgressed laws, and Jesus, being both God and man, was this perfect sacrifice.  A slight variation of this is the Protestant “penal substitution theory,” which sees sin as the breaking of God’s moral law, and Jesus takes the punishment in the sinner’s stead.  This is probably the most common metaphor used for the atonement, but it is very legalistic and leaves me cold.  I think we let the metaphor become the thing it symbolizes in this one.  I suspect the atonement is not entirely encompassed by this view.
• Moral Influence.  A third metaphor from the 11^th century, and speaks to the power of the image of a suffering Christ who sacrifices himself out of love for man, and mankind, moved by the extent of God’s love is transformed and healed by the power of the Holy Spirit.  I appreciated this one because I think we LDS tend to look at the crucifixion images in Catholic churches as ghoulish and morbid, but this metaphor explains their appeal to millions of worshippers in a whole new light for me.
• Theosis Metaphor.  Eastern Orthodoxy views the atonement as not a legal release, but a transformation of the human nature itself in the Son taking on human nature. The Orthodox emphasis is that Christ died to change people so that they may become more like God.  This is one I find very appealing, although it’s not one I ever recall hearing at church.  It lines up nicely with our idea that we are sons & heirs of God, with the seeds of godhood within us.

As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we expand on these metaphors by recognizing and emphasizing some additional components to the atonement:

• Christ’s suffering in Gethsemane. Modern day revelation in the Doctrine and Covenants adds emphasis to the role of Gethsemane in the atonement process: “…how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not…. Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit…”  I like the focus in LDS theology on the sacrifice being deliberate on Jesus’ part, that he chose to do this of his own free will despite how hard it was.  I like the emphasis on free choice, not so much on the difficulty which feels like a major guilt trip (I suppose because it IS).
  • The name Gethsemane literally means oil press.  In Gethsemane, Jesus as the Son of God is pressed as the olives were.  Oil was and is used for all sorts of purposes: to perform priesthood ordinances, to anoint the body, and to heal the sick and restore them to health.  Metaphorically, Jesus is the ultimate healing and anointing oil.
  • In a talk on the Symbols of the Atonement in 1991, E. Russell Nelson said:  “Olive trees are special in the Holy Land. The olive branch is universally regarded as a symbol of peace. This tree provides food, light, heat, lumber, ointments, and medicine. It is now, as it was then, crucial to life in Israel. It is not a deciduous tree, but ever bearing—always green. Even if the tree is chopped down, life will spring from its roots, suggesting everlasting life.  Jesus came to the base of the Mount of Olives to affect the first component of the Atonement. This He did at the Garden of Gethsemane. The word Gethsemane comes from two Hebrew roots: gath, meaning “press,” and shemen, meaning “oil,” especially that of the olive.  There olives had been pressed under the weight of great stone wheels to squeeze precious oil from them. So the Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane was literally pressed under the weight of the sins of the world. He sweat great drops of blood—his life’s “oil”—which issued from every pore.  Jesus was accorded titles of unique significance. One was the Messiah, which in Hebrew means “anointed.” The other was the Christ, which in the Greek language means “anointed” as well. In our day, as it was in His day, the ordinance of administration to the sick includes anointing with the consecrated oil of the olive. So the next time you witness consecrated oil being anointed on the head of one to be blessed, and these sacred words are said, “I anoint you with this consecrated oil,” remember what that original consecration cost. Remember what it meant to all who had ever lived and who ever would yet live. Remember the redemptive power of healing, soothing, and ministering to those in need. Remember, just as the body of the olive, which was pressed for the oil that gave light, so the Savior was pressed. From every pore oozed the life blood of our Redeemer. And when sore trials come upon you, remember Gethsemane.”
• Empathetic purpose. Christ did not only suffer for the sins of all men, but also to experience their physical pains, illnesses, anguish from addictions, emotional turmoil and depression, “that His bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:12; compare Isaiah 53:4).  This empathy allows Jesus to be a more effective advocate and personal friend to us.  This sounds remarkable similar to the one about the image of the suffering Christ creating empathy in humanity (the reverse of this).  But I think when you put them both together, it adds some interest to the perspective.
• The relationship between justice, mercy, agency, and God’s unconditional love. We focus on the need for free agency.  Just as Jesus had the ability to choose to lay down his life, if we are truly penitent we will voluntarily come unto him to receive his grace.  We do this through the process of repentance.  I do find this idea useful – the focus on our personal choice.

I liked the idea that there are many different ways to interpret the atonement, and some of these are more appealing to me than others. How about you?  Were any of these helpful?  How do you feel about the atonement?  Discuss.

But why is a celebration of our country’s freedom considered a non-Sabbath avocation?  Would it be unthinkable to hold a short worship service followed by a Ward pancake breakfast? At our breakfast we had a reading of the Declaration of Independence, a congregational singing of patriotic hymns and prayer.  Then we ate and fellowshipped with one another.  The celebration seemed particularly well suited to worship and thankfulness.  The wholesome recreational activities gave us a break from our usual weekly work.  And watching fireworks with our families on Sunday doesn’t really strike me as detracting from the spirit of the day.  A 2001 Ensign article, Call the Sabbath a Delight instructs:

“…the Sabbath day was meant to be a blessing rather than a burden to those who observe it. Its blessings flow not only from attending Church meetings but also from engaging in activities appropriate to the spirit of this sacred day. Because circumstances differ among Church members, the kinds of Sunday activities each of us may choose in order to gain spiritual strength and draw closer to the Lord will vary.”

It seems to me that in many LDS homes, the Sabbath is as far from “a delight” as can be.  It has become a somber day of “don’ts” which our children and youth dread. My college-aged kids are home for the summer, and they have begun a tradition along with my high-schoolers.  They sit up on Sunday until the stroke of midnight, then they pile in the car and head off to Wal-Mart to buy snacks and fete the end of the Sabbath.  Our family attends our meetings, avoids purchasing things, and observes the general LDS guidelines for Sundays, but I wonder what exactly we are doing to gain spiritual strength and draw closer to the Lord.

A scripture in Galatians reads:

“For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another.”

What do you think? Does the liberty offered us through Christ to supersede the Law of Moses extend to our Sabbath Day activities?  Would it be following the flesh to celebrate the Fourth of July with barbecues, picnics, fireworks watching?  Or could such family time be considered loving service? Does your family plan to eschew some of the activities you would normally do on Independence Daythis year because it falls on the Sabbath?

I was in the MTC when it happened, so it caught me by surprise when I was released back into the general population. I was sitting in Sacrament Meeting in an uncomfortable suit and things were going according to the usual pattern: song, prayer, business, sacrament, talks, music, talk, song, prayer.

When the final “amen” was hit, I was getting ready to stand up and leave the chapel when I was stopped in my tracks by a voice that said, “Thank you for coming out to Sunday School today, our opening song will be hymn number 149, and after that Brother Johnson will give the opening prayer and we’ll start song practice.”

Where to start?

First off, I was a little puzzled to be thanked for coming out to Sunday School. Truth is, I hadn’t really come out to Sunday School, I had merely failed to leave the chapel before this new guy got up and started speaking. Secondly, is 75 minutes not long enough to be sitting in once place watching something that’s not exploding? Were there complaints that Sacrament Meeting wasn’t long enough?

Whatever the case, I was stuck in some sort of “Groundhog Day” scenario where the past hour of my life seemed to be replaying, albeit with slight alterations.

While the changes in the meetings were all done under the guise of the Sunday School organization, it was clearly a power grab by the hymnal industrial complex and their newly minted foot soldiers, the song practice ladies. After the prayer and announcements of dubious importance, the song practice lady would get up and lead the congregation in songs that even the most faithful Mormon may not have known was in the hymnal. And no matter how famous or obscure, the song practice ladies almost always favored the longer hymns.

(Note to concerned readers: the term “song practice lady” isn’t really politically correct, I know. But come on, they were always ladies. There were never any “Song Practice Guys.”)

By the early 1990s, renegade song practice ladies were even leading congregations in what could only be described as analog versions of what would now be called mash-ups.

Example: “Did you know that you can sing ‘Dear to the Heart of the Sheppard,’ a hymn you’ve never heard of to the tune of ‘School Thy Feelings,’ another hymn you’ve never heard of. Why don’t you all get out your hymnals and give it a try…”

After a while my friends and I figured out that you could sing, “If You Could Hie to Kolob” to the tune of the theme from the Beverly Hillbillies. No song practice lady ever took us up on our offer to teach the ward this during song practice.

By the late 1990s, the tyrannical reign of the song practice ladies was over and we could all go back to standing up and walking out of the chapel after the closing prayer ends, like normal people. But some remnants of that era remain.

For instance, whenever a new ward chorister is installed, that person will almost immediately start grabbing more real estate in the church program. The most blunt instrument in the takeover is “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” which is almost always deployed during the first week of a new chorister’s tenure. When combined with “I Believe of Christ,” and conducted at a dirge-like pace, the opening and closing hymns can easily eat up 20 minutes of a church service. Then come the directives that the ward will be singing all the verses of the longer hymns, even the loser verses that have been exiled to the small print at the bottom of the page.

Perhaps the most audacious power grab I’ve ever seen came in August of 2000. I was visiting a ward in Salt Lake City and it was time for the special musical number. There was nothing on the program, but the bishop got up and made the following announcement, “The ward chorister has asked for ‘impromptu ward choir.’” He pointed to the side of the chapel I was sitting on and said, “Everyone sitting on this side of the room, come on up and join us here on the stand.”

And that was that. I had just been conscripted into some random ward’s choir. Moments later, I was being forced so scowl my way through a song for the pleasure of a bunch of strangers. I don’t remember what hymn it was, but I’m certain it wasn’t on the topic of free agency, nor was it the perfect ironic choice, “We Are All Enlisted.”

 It is likely ward chorister tyranny will always be with us and there is little we can do about it except sit, smile, sing loudly, and thank heaven above that at least they took all of those Utah songs out of the hymnal in 1985.

So, what do you think? Do you have a tyrannical chorister in your ward? Do you think it’s important to song all 7 verses of “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief”? Did anyone ward ever have a song practice man? Do tell.

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.

Sometimes I have a hard time with the Jehovah of the Old Testament. I’m not always sure how much of the anger, retribution, and striking people dead for their sins came from Him, or from the interpretation of His will by the designated prophet.

Take the Golden Calf story in Exodus 32, covered in SS Lesson #14. When Moses came down from Mt. Sinai with the stone tablets in his hands and saw the people singing, dancing, and playing, he had a big fit. He threw the tablets down on the ground and broke them. He burnt the golden calf they had made and killed three thousand men. According to Joseph Smith, there went the ancient Hebrews’ chance to have the ordinances of the Melchizedek Priesthood!

I wonder what would have happened if Moses had been a little less vindictive on God’s behalf. I attempt to explore this scenario in the following poem:

Your Golden Calf — And Mine

With justice stern,
No Moses, I –
Descending from Mt. Sinai to decimate your golden calf.
I’m not a prophet, sir, I laugh!
But… tell me of your God, instead,
This gold you’ve shaped,
Your wine and bread.
How have you built it?
What appeals to you?
What myst’ries it reveals?
Perhaps I’ll tell you of my climb up Sinai,
How I saw divine phalanges shining in the sun,
The glory of an Holy One.
In safe discourse you’ll have me see
The glorious opportunity your idol sends,
To sing, to dance!
While I, thus taught, have equal chance.
This fraternal state we’re in tells you licentiousness and sin
Is not the best way (generally) to show
Religious ecstasy.
Unveiled: my God, an image too –
A mirror of my heart,
A true reflection of the judgment there.
If we’ll but fall in prostrate prayer,
Each others’ hearts will bleed to view –
The sacred within me and you.

Do you think it was necessary for the Old Testament Jehovah to strike so many people dead for their sins? The idolaters, the disobedient, the complainers, even the people who dwelt in the land of Canaan before the Israelites? Why was it important then, and why doesn’t God kill the covenant people who are disobedient today? How much of the violence of the Old Testament came from God, and how much can be attributed to the excesses of people who were acting in His name? Did Moses shape a “golden calf” too?

What really happened on that first Easter morning around 2000 years ago?  There is the “swoon theory” advocated by those who assert that Christ did not really die upon the cross, that His supposed death was only a temporary swoon, and that His Resurrection was simply a return to consciousness. This was promoted by Paulus (“Exegetisches Handbuch”, 1842, II, p. 929) and in a modified form by Hase (“Gesch. Jesu”, n. 112).  Another theory is the “imposition theory urged by Celsus (Origen, Against Celsus II.56).  The disciples, it is said, stole the body of Jesus from the grave, and then proclaimed to others that their Lord had risen. This is a theory the Jews proposed as described in Matthew 28:12:

“And when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers, Saying, Say ye, His disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept. And if this come to the governor’s ears, we will persuade him, and secure you. So they took the money, and did as they were taught: and this saying is commonly reported among the Jews until this day.”

A third possibility, the “vision theory,” explains that enthusiasm, nervousness, and mental excitement on the part of the disciples caused them to experience mass hallucinations; to see and believe things that weren’t really true.  But is it possible that the Biblical account can be trusted?  Can one who was raised in a modern, secular culture such as ours really lay his or her head back and float in the nebulous pool of faith?

Did five women, led by Mary Magdalene, set out for the tomb of Jesus early on a Sunday morning?  Intending to anoint his body with spices, did they instead find an open tomb with the stone rolled away?  After the women spread the news that someone had taken the body of their Lord, did John and Peter run to the tomb and enter, astounded?  Was there something supernatural about what they saw: the graveclothes lying on a ledge in the tomb almost like an empty cocoon after the butterfly has emerged?  Not long after that, it is written, Jesus appeared to Mary. Then to the women. Then to Peter. Then to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Then to the 11 disciples. A week later he appeared to Thomas who believed in spite of his own doubts, crying out, “My Lord and my God!”

Quickly the word spread, “He’s alive!” This became the watchword of the early church. The apostles ended up as martyrs for their faith in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. After 2000 years do we dare to conclude without any evidence that Jesus died on Friday afternoon and that he literally, physically, and bodily rose from the dead on Sunday morning?

And even for those who do believe the Easter story to this point, a deeper struggle comes when we stand next to a sickbed, gazing at the face of someone we love. The crisis may come at the senseless death of a child, a spouse, a brother.  Many of us wonder at that moment, “Is it possible that I will see this person again?” The body is cold.  Death seems so final, faith so unsure.  The following poem was written by an unknown soldier who died during World War I. It powerfully expresses what must follow if there is no resurrection from the dead:

If death ends all, then evil must be good,
Wrong must be right, and beauty ugliness.
God is a Judas who betrays his Son,
And with a kiss, damns all the world to hell—
If Christ rose not again.

This is reminiscent of the poignant passage in 1 Corinthians 15:17-19:

“And if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins.
Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished.
If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.”

To appease the pain these questions leave for modern man, existential theology demythologizes the miraculous elements of the gospel to reveal the “true” Christian message: the call to authentic existence in the face of death, symbolized by the cross.  As much as I believe the teachings of Christ are all about social justice, this leaves me flat.  If there is no resurrection, it doesn’t seem to make a difference.  To quote another poet (Henry H. Barstow),

What matter though we laugh or cry,
Be good or evil, live or die,
If Easter be not true.

Today I WANT Easter to be true.  I’m plunging my head back, holding my breath, willing myself to float.  I’ve got that same feeling in the pit of my stomach that my little swimmers do.  I don’t know for sure that Christ lives, that the water will hold me.  I’ve never seen him face to face, never touched his wounds. But on a day like today, I believe.  I’m looking at the sky, the mountains, the flowers, I’m feeling the early morning sunshine on my skin.  I’m letting the words of the scriptures work on me. I’m thinking of a Savior and the resurrection and I’m reciting — over and over — the words of that unknown soldier who died in World War I:

If it be all for naught, for nothingness
At last, why does God make the world so fair?
Why spill this golden splendor out across
The western hills, and light the silver lamp
Of eve? Why give me eyes to see, and soul
To love so strong and deep? Then, with a pang
This brightness stabs me through, and wakes within
Rebellious voice to cry against all death?

Why set this hunger for eternity
To gnaw my heartstrings through, if death ends all?

One Sunday you notice the missionaries have brought a woman they have been teaching.  You notice right away that she looks very masculine.  The missionaries ask to meet with you during the week and tell you that the woman they brought to church is a transsexual, born a man but now living as a woman.  She has not had any operations but is taking hormones. They say that they cannot baptize her without first presidency approval, and that their mission president is handling the situation. You breathe a sigh a relief that you don’t have to get involved with that.

After a few weeks, you get a few comments from the Sisters in the ward that they feel uncomfortable with this woman attending relief society and using the ladies restroom.

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How would your answer change if it was a man (who use to be a woman) and all the questions above were changed for that situation (e.g. he attends priesthood meeting and uses the men’s restroom)?  Discuss.

This story is so very, very familiar to us that I think it’s important to look at it with a fresh perspective.  So in this post I am including some pieces from media and the arts that force us to think about Genesis 22.  I promise you in advance that some of these might be disturbing to you.  Probably you will disagree with the portrayal of Abraham’s sacrifice in at least one, if not all, of these pieces.  I hope you will share your reactions in the comments.

One of my favorite poems juxtaposes the story of Abraham with World War I.  The poet, Wilfred Owen, is a tragic figure himself, who was gunned down at age 25 just seven days before the Armistice on November 4, 1918.  This poem invites the reader to consider the effects of extreme religious devotion.

The Parable of the Young Man and the Old
Wilfred Owen

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned, both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake, and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets the trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.

The next bit of media comes from the BBC’s That Mitchell and Webb Look. The parody pokes fun at believers whose religion keeps them from thinking for themselves:

The image below is an etching entitled The Sacrifice of Abraham by Marc Chagall.   The same study was done as a watercolor, as an oil painting, and as a drawing in pastel and China ink.  Each has symbolic features which are not present in the others.  A review of the etching describes it as follows:

“…the sacrifice of Abraham presents human drama as confrontation of two wills and two freedoms: that of the creator and his creature. Chagall’s rendering of this scene is of great subtlety. Using a mirror effect between the figures of Isaac and the angel, between Abraham’s posture and that of the heavenly messenger, he suggests complementarity and ultimate unity between heaven and earth. In the end, there will be no opposition between the faithful Abraham and his God, because there exists a perfect match between human obedience and divine mercy. The bound and naked Isaac is a symbol of extreme vulnerability and suggests acute sensitivity to the word of God. God answers in kind, rushing his angel in sudden descent to arrest the movement of Abraham’s knife. Thus, although bathed in an atmosphere of frightening proportions, the pictorial narrative speaks of two worlds reconciled by tender love. The latter, tender love, finds its artistic expression in the tiny white ram emerging from the thicket on the left. Too tiny for the giant knife, the ram is a reminder that God does not want sacrifices but love.”

Does this type of yielding and vulnerable submission make you  more comfortable than the more fanatic type? Why or why not?

Now let’s explore what would happen if Abraham did decide to think for himself — to take a critical look at what God was asking him to do. What if that were God’s purpose behind the lesson, after all? This short story comes from the Fob Bible, which I own and I highly recommend. It is called “Abraham’s Purgatory,” and was written by Ben Christensen.

Abraham’s Purgatory (click to read)

I included the lithograph below by Salvador Dali because I think it is interesting how the Abraham and Isaac figures are so small and how the focus of the work is the angel. It dominates the picture and brings to mind the sacred nature of the sacrificial story. Dali’s angel is not an insipid, white robed choir boy. We see the figure from the back and it is both awe-inspiring, unknowable, and a bit frightening.

Abraham, Abraham! by Salvador Dali

As you watch the following comedic sketch, ask yourself the question: “Is it easier to do something God asks if you want to do it anyway?” How much personal interpretation comes into play when we are deciphering God’s will?

Jewish Midrash suggests that it was difficult to dissuade Abraham from the act of sacrificial violence once he had decided to kill his son. The Midrash reads: “…and he said: Lay not thy hand upon the lad. Where was the knife? Tears had fallen from the angels upon it and dissolved it.” It was the tears of the angels, not those of Abraham that dissolved the knife. Yet, even after seeing the knife dissolve, Abraham is unconvinced and persists with the violence. “’Then I will strangle him,’ said he [Abraham] to Him. ‘Lay not thy hand upon the lad,’ was the reply. ‘Let us bring forth a drop of blood from him,’ he pleaded.” Abraham refuses to be deterred. His unaffected and immediate suggestion of an alternative method of sacrifice is shocking. Some may consider this to be steadfast piety, but the violent undertone stands in stark contrast with the Midrashim that emphasize piety over violence. After that method is refused, he then pleads if he may bring forth a drop of blood from his son. The use of the word “pleads” would lead one to assume that Abraham’s plea to G-d was an emotional one. The emotion, it seems, stems more so from an inability to sacrifice his son than from G-d’s request that the sacrifice be made.

The sculpture below by Berruguete is included for its portrayal of the human emotion on the faces of Abraham and Isaac. You will probably hear in your Sunday School lesson the idea that Isaac was a youth in his prime at the time of the sacrifice, while Abraham was an old man. This interpretation promotes the idea that Isaac was a willing participant in the act of submission to God. The sculpture visually portrays this idea, picturing Isaac as a strong and virile young man, capable of wresting himself free from his bonds. Though horrified and frightened, he is kneeling and complaisant.

The final piece of media I would like to include for your consideration is a biblical canticle written by Benjamin Britten. During this two-person opera, one singer assumes the role of Abraham while the other takes that of Isaac. Through the homophony of the two singers, God’s voice emerges as if it were a third solo singer. The use of the older tenor and the younger alto voices in the vignette below to sing the words of God is very moving.

GOD: Abraham, my servant, Abraham,
Take Isaac, thy son by name,
That thou lovest the best of all,
And in sacrifice offer him to me
Upon that hill there beside thee.

Abraham, I will that so it be,
For aught that may befall.

As they sing “Abraham,” the notes are first discordant, then resolve, aptly representing the theme of the story.

Abraham and Isaac by Benjamin Britten

The story of Abraham and Isaac is a powerful one. It is the most dramatic moment in the life of one of the most important of the Biblical prophets. I think that its inclusion in the Bible is meant to be disturbing and to evoke turmoil and discomfort. I hope that the Sunday School portrayal of this section of the scriptural record will not be too soft and fluffy.

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.

There is a young man in your ward who seems to push the limits on the clothes he wears.  Both his parents are active, but they seem to be struggling with him.  He is worthy to pass the sacrament, and he even wears a white shirt to church on Sundays.  But sometimes he wears loud rock band tee shirts beneath his white shirt (like “Led Zeppelin”) that are plainly visible.  His belts have spikes all the way around them.  There is a chain that hangs from his pocket that connects to his wallet.  One Sunday while passing the sacrament, he wears a very large skull buckle.  It is very large and obvious to everybody what it is.  Another Sunday he wears a Confederate flag belt buckle.

[poll ID ="96"]

Would your answer change if he lived with no father in the home?  Would your answer change if there was a black family in the ward who noticed his Confederate belt buckle? Discuss.

In one of her videos, the Non-Muslim Hijabi said something like, ‘Don’t just do something because the Koran says so. Find out the reasons for yourself and do it because you feel the benefits.’  One Muslim woman responded, ‘What is wrong with doing it only to show your obedience to God?’

I thought that was a good point, and it was a clarifying moment for me. If I believed I had a reliable source of God’s Word, I’d be all over it, and I would do my best to be obedient to it, trusting that His understanding was greater than mine. I don’t happen to believe that we have a very reliable, literal, Word of God, so I rely on “living a commandment in order to gain a testimony of it.”  I find that all of the Mormon lifestyle teachings have really good, practical reasons behind them. While some people criticize the church as trying to “control” its members with all these rules, I experience the church as trying to protect its members from suffering by giving good counsel on Natural Law.   I appreciate the Mormon sentiment I’ve heard that those of other religions who live the same lifestyle teachings will progress in their spiritual lives because of it.

The Mormon lifestyle teachings seem to be really definitive of Mormonism in a lot of people’s minds. Many non-Mormons know Mormons as “those guys that don’t drink or smoke or even drink coffee”.  People so often assume that those who leave do so because of their relationship with the commandments, rather than their relationship with the theology. This would make sense if you thought the commandments were the hallmark of Mormonism, or at least the hardest part. I do know some people who lost their testimony and then immediately tried all the vices, since there was no longer a reason not to.  So, it does seem like the commandments are the main focus and deciding factor for a lot of people.

I confused people by being an “active” non-member.  One person said to me, “If you attend services and follow the commandments, what else is there? My eyes popped out of my head. But I guess that question makes sense if you assume that following the commandments is a demonstration of faith in the Prophets and the Book of Mormon.  (Which is the “what else”.)

My questions for the reader are:

Do you follow the commandments out of faith and obedience, or because of a personal conviction that they are important to your spiritual growth?  Do you think one reason has greater merit than the other and why?

Are the commandments central to your faith as a Mormon? Are they outdated relics? Control tactics? Unnecessarily rigid guidelines? Or essential tools for your spiritual progress and transformation?

[poll=99]

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?

In a series of previous posts, David Stout has suggested that there is an underlying rationalism that drives our worship services.  I suspect that this true to an extent but he misses, or perhaps neglects to mention another key factor.  Terryl Givens explores a paradox in Mormon thought between certainty and searching [1].  He explains that the discourse of our religious history is rooted in certainty and that conversion occurs when we know the truth, rather than in a conversion to Christ through forgiveness.  Therefore, perhaps, it is not strange to conclude that the highest form of worship is when such certainty is conveyed or shared between searching individuals.

Yet, this is not the only type of worship discussed in the LDS tradition.  In fact there are two other strains that I think are prominent: emulation and adoration.  Emulation as a form of worship continues the pragmatic theme which seems fixed in education as a form of worship (another of the paradoxes Givens discusses: The Sacred and the Banal).  Adoration is part of the Church but it seems diminished compared to other religious cultures like the Church of England, for example.  I can understand this, however, because Emulation and Adoration suggest different conceptions of sacred distance.  Emulation seeks to narrow that distance whereas Adoration wants to emphasise the differences between God and Human beings.

It occurs to me that the view of God that is generally held among Mormons (the Anthropomorphic God who becomes divine through a progressive process) results in a sense of dissatisfaction with the traditional forms of Adoration-type Worship held in other Churches, but neither Education nor Emulation have adequately replaced them, in my view.   So where is worship in LDS services?

One suggestion I have is that we should include both types of worship in our services.  I sense that including forms of worship which both accentuates and also diminishes the sacred distance between ourselves and God would be a spiritually productive paradox.  Accentuating this distance would emphasise our dependence upon God while seeking to receive his divine nature would ensure we do not stop striving to open ourselves to God’s love and the possibility of loving others and being loved by them.  Moreover, I am one of those people who sees that these (unresolvable) tensions prove fertile ground for our communion with God.

Questions:

How do you feel about Mormon Worship services?

What do you consider Worship and is it present in your wards and stakes?

What types of Worship could be included in our meetings?

Of his work, Kapoor says, ‘Just as you can’t set out to make something beautiful, you can’t set out to make something spiritual.  What you can do is recognise that it may be there.  It normally has something to do with not having too much to say.  There seems to be space for the viewer, and is sometimes something we identify as being spiritual.  And it is all about space.’

Kapoor is concerned with the community that art can generate.  In fact the size of his later sculptures suggest a desire to encourage this shared experience.  Think of Chicago’s ‘magic bean’.  Or my favourite ‘The Farm’ in New Zealand.  In my mind this something remarkably similar to what is ‘spiritual’ for me.  It is in the sharing and simultaneous experience of love, spirit and honesty that binds people to another and to God.

Speaking about Kapoor’s work, Homi Bhabha has said that ‘you are always on the edge between what you know and what you don’t know’.  Interestingly Kapoor believes his work captures something similar.  He says that ‘making work is about daring to go where I don’t know and hoping that in going to where I don’t know, you, the viewer, can go somewhere you don’t know either’.

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.

“Evidence from accounts of some early meetings and conferences indicates that many of the New England leaders of the Church felt that the membership should be directly involved in decision-making meetings, including making motions on policy issues, following standard parliamentary procedure for public meetings, and voting to finalize decisions”[2][3].  Bushman argues that one unique feature of Mormonism was that revelation and governance came through councils, and this implied Common Consent [4].  Many of the revelations included in the D&C were written in and through Council meetings and then accepted by Common Consent [5].  It seems two converging cultures have emerged from this Brigham Young Mantle experience.

As Jan Shipps is famous for saying, we can distinguish between the ‘Mountain Saints’ and the ‘Prairie Saints’.  For the Mountain Saints “as the Church grew and as new converts required greater organization, it was not possible to maintain a simple democracy where each member had equal access either to power or to revelation for the group as a whole.” [6].  But this was not a necessity, for the Prairie Saints have maintained a strong democratic culture to their religion.  One example Jan Shipps cites is a situation where the RLDS (as it was then called) wanted to publish a revised version of the Book of Mormon.  When it was ready they took the decision to a General Conference and the ideas was rejected by the membership[7].

Bonner Ritchie has written that “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”[8].  Bonner Ritchie argues that we need both types or religion and that the tension between them needs to be managed.  It appears to me that how we use Common Consent is one way of utilising this tension between Growth and Security Religion.  But how could this be more fully incorporated into our Church practice?

My thinking here is that this should work on a Local and Church-wide level differently and should utilise changing mechanisms.  Moreover it seems that we should distinguish between those matters that are up for debate and those which might not be.  It seems that some votes like sustaining our leaders might not be times for debate and discussion while maybe decisions of Church policy, like the consolidated meeting schedule, might be discussed.  At a Church-wide level, what decisions could be open to discussion and even for a dissenting vote?  In addition, at a Local level are there decisions that should be open for discussion rather than just made in small council meetings?  Would this shift re-create some of the elements of Growth religion that Ritchie supports.  I am not saying that every decision should be made by Common Consent, I think this would be impractical and would negate some of the good Security religion practices that the ‘Sustaining Vote’ Common Consent provides for the Church.

The second area that I am interested in, is how we, as a Church, relate to Common Consent.  Here are two statments regarding the practice: “The Church has a right to reject or approve of revelations… Before a revelation can be accepted by the Church, as a law, it must in some form or other be presented to the Church and accepted by the Church” [9]. Interestingly Apostle Taylor (who was removed from his position for practicing polygamy after the Manifesto, explained that he never sustained the Manifesto when it was presented and therefore was not required to be obedient to that principle.  Contrastingly, George Q. Cannon has said “It seems nonsensical that the Prophet of God could not deem the revelations he received authentic until they had the approval of the different quorums of the Church” [10].  So what is the role of Common Consent, is it supposed to be a test for the membership as to whether they follow their leaders or is it intended to a mechanism to work as a check/balance to ensure the Church is on course?

My Questions again:

What was intended by the principle of Common Consent?

Could the principle be used to encourage greater ownership and growth?

Is it possible to have two types of Sustaining Vote, one with discussion and one without?  Then, if we did have votes with discussion what topics should or should not be covered?

What is the role of Common Consent in the Church: is it a test of obedience, is it an a cceptance of a Covenant, it is a democratic principle of support or is it something else all together?

Notes:

1. Leonard J. Arrington, Brigham Young: American Moses [Urbana & Chicago, IL.: University of Illinois Press, 1986] p. 113-7.

2. Common Consent in Encyclopedia of Mormonism, 1-4 vols., edited by Daniel H. Ludlow (New York: Macmillan, 1992), 297.

3. Donald Q. Cannon and Lyndon W. Cook, eds., Far West Record: Minutes of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1830-1844 [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1983], 9.

4. Richard L. Bushman, Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling [ New York: Vintage, 2007] p. 252.

5. Robert J. Woodford, How the Revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants Were Received and Compiled in Ensign, [January 1985]

6. (John M. Lundquist and Stephen D. Ricks, eds., By Study and Also by Faith: Essays in Honor of Hugh W. Nibley on the Occasion of His Eightieth Birthday, 27 March 1990, 2 vols. [Salt Lake City and Provo: Deseret Book Co., Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, 1990], 1: 164.)

7. Jan Shipps, Prophets and Prophecy at Sunstone

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

9. Wilford Woodruff, cited in Von Wagoner et al, The Lectures on Faith: A Case Study in De-canonization in Dialogue, 1987, vol. 20, no. 3,  74.

10. George Q. Cannon, Gospel Truth: Discourses and Writings of President George Q. Cannon, selected, arranged, and edited by Jerreld L. Newquist [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987], 258.

I have never even seen this done.  Therefore I thought I would include a short poll to see if you good folks have:

 [poll id="60"]

I hope John won’t mind me including the video here for you all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubZQ5TgFRac

If you were a Bishop, what would it take for you to ask someone to sit down or change what they were saying?  Is there anything that would cause you to do that?

• Doctrinal Disagreement (if so what kind?)
• Attack of a Church Leader
• Personal Criticism of a Member
• Swearing
• Drunk or on Drugs

For my part I disagree with someone after they had spoken if I felt that it might upset people.  For example, if someone declared Jesus to be a liar I might express my feelings to the contrary afterward.  I think personal criticism or swearing might be something which I might stop.  If they were drunk I could accept it as long as they did not do any of the other two.

What do you think?

So, first of all, what is meant by being predisposed toward religious belief?  Here are the characterizations from the article:

• imagining the invisible hand of the supernatural in acts of randomness (aka “answers to prayer”)
• conjuring “non-physically present agents” and imagining “what if” scenarios involving these agents (e.g. angels and devils)

Hmmm.  Based on that, I’m not sure I’m religious after all.  Interestingly, the Reformation rejected many of these “superstitions” of Catholicism.  So, does that mean Protestants are less religious than Catholics?  Really?  I guess this means that religion = superstition.

Data shows that the parietal lobe (which detects where our physical body ends and where the larger world begins) can be suspended during intense meditation or prayer.  This indicates that our brains are wired to “commune with God.”  This is the quintessential religous experience.  So if the belief in God is hard-wired into human brains, then the logic goes that it is innate and therefore unchangeable.  Yet, the number of unbelievers has doubled since 1990.  This begs the question whether it really is innate or not.

New data suggests that maybe this predisposition to believe is not innate after all, but created by our environment (yes, the old nurture vs. nature argument).  There are two prevailing ways of looking at the data:

1. Our lives suck because we believe. Religious belief creates dysfunction (religious wars and being judgmental), causes stress (through guilt and perfectionism), causes us to fear death (and eternal damnation), causes us to become poor (through misplaced altruism and donations to churches).  This is the party line of some prominent atheists who are anti-religion.
2. We believe because our lives suck.  Religion is our way of dealing with stress, fear of death, poverty, and dysfunction.  If people live in an environment free of these things, they tend to become agnostic or atheist.  This is kind of like the idea that poor people cling to “God and guns.”  It’s what is meant when they say “religion is the opiate of the masses.”  Is it also what was meant when BY said he feared the Saints’ ability to withstand prosperity.

Interestingly, this trend holds true across most believers:  the worse their lives, the more religious they are.  The more prosperous people are, the less religious they are (the more secular).  This sounds a lot like the BOM prosperity cycle.  Once you get rich enough, you “outgrow” religion.  It reminds me of the joke about the guy who is going to die, and he says if God saves him he’ll give half of everything he has to God, so God saves him.  Then the guy says, “Oh, nevermind, God; looks like I got it covered.”  (cue rim shot).

Of course, this is tricky logic when applied to Mormonism because the most recent Pew Forum shows (yet again) that higher levels of education and income actually create higher levels of religious commitment, contrary to the trend in other faiths.  IOW, Mormons somehow bust the BOM prosperity cycle.  Take that, Nephites!  Maybe it’s all that reading of the BOM.

The article posits that it may be a combination of our brains being hard wired to believe, but that life circumstances have to reinforce that worldview (e.g. life has to be sufficiently dysfunctional) in order for the programming to kick in.  So, here are some more logical questions if that’s true:

• If social progress is the enemy of religion, should religion quit trying to solve social problems?  Should it try to create more social problems?   Remember, Jesus said “I came not to bring peace, but a sword.”
• Do things like “persecution complex” and imagining we were are in an actual war with Satan (people ranking as generals and so forth) work to kick in the God programming?  Are these “imaginary dysfunctions” adequate to the task or do they wear off like placebos?  Do we need actual persecutions and enemies for it to work long-term?
• Once your God programming starts, can it be rewritten or changed, or do you always have a glimmer of belief (or a nagging fear you are wrong in unbelief)?
• If your God programming doesn’t kick in by a certain age, does it take a major dysfunctional event (like personal tragedy) to get it to work, or is it too late for it to fully develop?

These questions are still unanswered by science, so each of you will have to come up with your own speculations!  What do you think?  Discuss.

To illustrate this line of thinking further, suppose for a moment that Tony Soprano has entered a very strange Witness Protection program.  He is being relocated to Salt Lake City where he will be living as if he were a Mormon.  He will be assigned to a local ward where he will be made the bishop of a local congregation for five years.  He will need to attend to the temporal and spiritual needs of the ward while conducting his normal job as a business manager during the week.  Tony has been trained very successfully by his FBI Handlers.  He knows the lingo (words like “shadow of a doubt,” “every fiber of my being,” and “we’re grateful for the moisture we’ve received.”)  He understands the requirements and standards (modesty/no more wife beaters, cutting down his considerable profanity, no porn, chastity and fidelity to his wife, honesty, etc.).  While he knows it is a big departure from his previous life, he is confident he can live those standards.  However, he is entering this arrangement with no belief whatsoever in the LDS church.  He is purely going through the motions.

At the same time, because the FBI are apparently into weird social experimentation (or at least my example is), they will be sending Bishop Mike Young (whom Bishop Soprano will replace) back to run the Bada-Bing and manage Tony’s mafia affairs in his stead.  Although Bishop Young is a believer in his LDS faith, this assignment will require him to play a part that contradicts his beliefs.  He will be subject to all manner of temptations (dishonesty, murder, illicit sex–the constant barrage of profanity will be the least of his worries), and he will have to participate in these things or be killed by his new colleagues who will immediately smell a rat if he does not play the part.

So, who is in the more impossible situation?  What is the likely outcome of each?  Will Bishop Soprano become converted to the gospel through his newly clean lifestyle?  Or will he corrupt the ward members because he doesn’t believe?  Will Bishop Young become converted to the dark side by his new cronies?  Or will Bishop Young infiltrate the mafia with his more charitable tendencies?  What is the most likely outcome for each situation?

I’m inclined to think that Bishop Soprano is in a good position to become persuaded this new lifestyle is the way to go, whether that leads to a testimony or just a more Christ-like life.  I tend to think Bishop Young is at peril of falling into sin, but that he will continue to feel bad about it and long for a future situation that will allow him to return to living his beliefs.  But that’s just me.

Considering a much less extreme example, which is harder to manage through?  Believing in the church, but not living up to the standards (which often results in inactivity) or not believing in the church while going through the motions (activity, but without testimony)?  I would place the hierarchy of belief/action combos like this:

1. Easiest:  Neither believing nor living the standards.  Again, depends on how far down the “not living the standards” scale you go before you get to reduced quality of life.  On some level, though, ignorance is bliss.  Once you are aware of the standards, though, even if your belief level changes, unless it becomes disbelief, you will have difficulty with this choice.
2. Next Easiest:  Believing & living the standards.  Obviously, all of us fall short at times, but belief causes people to want to live the standards, and living the standards reinforces belief.  This helps people minimize guilt and stress.
3. Getting More Difficult:  Not believing, but living the standards.  This is still a valuable choice because the standards create a good life.  This is the worst-case scenario in Pascal’s wager.  And belief is not all or nothing anyway.  One can believe in the value of standards that have a lifestyle benefit.
4. Most Difficult:  Believing but not living the standards.  Since we all fall short from time to time, this seems like the next logical stop down in the hierarchy.  Some just fail to meet on a bigger scale, but their belief is still there.  They believe what they are doing is wrong.  They feel guilt and shame.

Do lower standards reinforce lack of belief or the other way around?  Does lack of belief promote self-justification?  Is faith a principle of action only (vs. one’s level of belief) in that it colors our actions?

Discuss.

Matt at the site LDS Church Growth puts forward several different theories that statisticians tend to have about church growth.  He groups these into two categories:  critical theories and false assertions by the faithful.  Here are the theories he identifies (quoted from his site):

Critics of Church Growth

• Zero Growth Theory:  Critics state that the number of those who join the Church is equal to the number which leave the Church. Oftentimes critics site other fast growing Christian groups (such as Seventh-Day Adventists, Pentecostals and Jehovah’s Witnesses) to challenge claims made by some members of the Church that it is the fastest growing Church.
• Lack of Devotion Theory: Critics claim that in areas where the Church is growing at a rapid pace both in terms of membership and activity that the devotion of the members is not strong. They believe that the Church is poorly understood and if it were properly understood growth would not occur. This theory also supposes that growth will ultimately stop and result in few active members of the Church and the weakening of the Church in the given area. Examples from Latin America are usually used to illustrate this theory.
• The Internet Slows Church Growth Theory: Many critics of the Church believe that a rise in Internet usage is correlated to a decline in the growth of the Church. These beliefs stem from the wide body of Anti-Mormon literature available on the Internet, which is available in many of the world’s languages. This theory assumes that people become uninterested in the Church as a result of negative information read online, thus becoming unreceptive to the message of the Gospel. This theory also ignores favorable information about the Church on the Internet, particularly in the form of Church owned websites, many online newspapers and personal blogs.

False Assertions by the Faithful:

• All Is Well In Zion Claim: Some members of the Church believe that the growth of the Church has nothing to do with them and just happens. As members of the Church we know that missionary work and the Church itself are in the hands of the Lord, but that does not mean that we do not have a responsibility to share the Gospel. This kind of mentality also results in dismissing important and serious challenges for growth the Church faces in certain areas of the World. When some Church members encounter large wards in the United States, many of which grow rapidly in membership from new move-ins, they justify this thinking.
• Exponential Growth Claim: Some members of the Church believe that the Church is growing exponentially and at such a fantastic rate that we as a Church cannot meet all of the needs that such growth merits. While it is true that there are many issues which challenge us with the growth the Church has seen, this claim in inflated and generalized to include the Church throughout the World with the exception of Western Europe.

The post by Matt goes on to tackle each of the above theories.  I recommend a review of his post. 

The recent Pew Forum survey (U.S. only) shows mixed indicators:

• 70% of BIC continue as Mormons throughout their life, a much higher percentage than most other denominations, with Catholicism at 68% (the next highest).  15% of those raised Mormon changed religions and 14% became unaffiliated.  Among the general population, 45% of people leave the religion of their childhood (30% to other religions, 15% to become unaffiliated).
• Mormons comprise 1.7% of the total population currently.  They used to comprise 1.8%.  This means that despite church, the U.S. numbers are fairly flat as a percentage of population.
• Religious conviction within Mormonism runs an opposite trend to other faiths.  The higher the education level, the higher the religious commitment.  However, converts to Mormonism tend to have lower education levels and possibly lower levels of commitment.  68% of converts attend weekly (vs. 79% of BIC and 39% of the general population), 46% consider their religion the one true faith (compared to 61% of BIC and 24% of the general population).  However, converts are much more likely to share their faith with others (38% share it weekly vs. 19% of BIC and 23% of the general population).

So, what do you think?  Is the church growing, shrinking, or static?  Is it possible to have a meaningful measure for growth or is it always colored by a bias?

Discuss.

http://www.moreintelligentlife.com/story/david-foster-wallace-in-his-own-words

It’s a commencement speech given a few years back by a famously gifted author (who has since taken his own life).  His name is David Foster Walalce.

My favorite part:

“Not that that mystical stuff is necessarily true. The only thing that’s capital-T True is that you get to decide how you’re gonna try to see it.

This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship.

Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship–be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles–is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.

They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing.

And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving…. The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.”

Amos 5:21-24

For verily this is a day appointed unto you to rest from your labors, and to pay thy devotions unto the Most High; nevertheless thy vows shall be offered up in righteousness on all days and at all times;but remember that on this, the Lord’s day, thou shalt offer thine oblations and thy sacraments unto the Most High, confessing thy sins unto thy brethren, and before the Lord. And on this day thou shalt do none other thing, only let thy food be prepared with singleness of heart that thy fasting may be perfect, or, in other words, that thy joy may be full.

Doctrine and Covenants 59:9-13

Discuss,

my friends:

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