Generally, in LDS culture, when you determine that someone doesn’t have a TR, it’s human nature to automatically assume you know why based on reasons you think are most common; it’s also a little awkward to ask, which is why most people skate by on assumptions.  (Just because you assume a reason does not necessarily mean that you attach a judgment to that reason).  Do you assume they are behind on paying their tithing or that they have committed some serious sin?  Or do you assume they are being too self-critical in how they answer the questions?  Do you consider some reasons more “acceptable” than others?

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In your opinion, are some of these bigger issues than others (actually more important to temple admittance), in your opinion?  Here’s my ranking (I put these into groups that denote their importance).

 Definitely out:

• Adultery or fornication.  Kind of obvious.  I can’t imagine too many people disagreeing with me on this one.
• Not paying a full tithe.  If I quit paying my Lifetime Fitness membership, they won’t let me in either.
• Abusive family relationships.  Of course, the trick is whether someone admits it.  It assumes that an abusive person has the sociopathy to abuse people, but also is enough of a good guy to admit it.
• Polygamous affiliations.  Unless you are a recurring character on Big Love.
• Embezzlement / fraud.  Again, provided you are confessing such a thing. If you’re willing to commit fraud, what’s a little lying?  But I suppose if you’re imprisoned for fraud, you’re not getting an R&R pass to go to the temple anyway.

Subjective areas:

• Recently resolved issues related to those on the definitely out list, once restitution is made
• Struggling with porn or masturbation
• Emotional affairs
• Struggling with WoW, but intending to follow
• Failure to pay child support, but intending to pay it
• Affiliations with groups whose ideologies conflict (other than polygamous sects)
• Doubting, struggling with belief
• Intermittent garment wearing
• Church activity intermittent but recently improved

Not a TR issue:

• sexual thoughts, no actions
• struggling with anger in family settings, no abuse
• disliking but obeying the standards
• things not on the list like drinking Coke, playing face cards, being a Democrat, gambling, or opposing Prop 8
• church activity intermittent due to work commitments or health reasons

My own lists indicate that I view it as subjective based on your intentions and how long your intentions have been temple-ready.  So, how do your lists differ from mine?  Do you somehow avoid making these types of assumptions?  Discuss.

Before going any further, let me define what I mean by “worthiness.” I’m not necessarily talking just about my personal relationship with God, i.e., freedom from sin. I’m using the term in the more colloquial sense we all use in a ward setting on Sunday mornings, i.e., being “worthy” to hold a calling means not only that I am striving to keep the commandments, but also that I have passed muster in an interview with a leader (“I have interviewed Brother Larsen and found him worthy to clean the restroom floors every third Sunday afternoon”). While the two concepts overlap, they are not the same, in my mind.

Here’s what I see happening with increasing frequency as the Church fully embraces a more corporate model: Priesthood leadership positions being given to those who are financially better off than most of the congregants over whom they preside. On its face, there may be nothing alarming about this phenomenon. Wealth certainly is not a sin (well, except for maybe for that whole “easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle” stuff) and should not be a barrier to an otherwise worthy person’s service in a leadership position. However, when only the wealthy are moved up the ranks, it sends a clear message to others: wealth = worthiness. This is especially pronounced in a lay clergy community such as ours, where every member, at least on paper, has an equal chance at attaining wealth and position.

We’ve all heard stories of General Authorities dispatched to pick a new Stake President, and who, under the influence of the Spirit, and choose a humble (i.e., non-rich) guy who has been reactivated for a few months. That has not been my experience; my last three Stake Presidents have all been very successful (i.e., rich) attorneys. In fact, when I first moved into the area, the entire Stake Presidency, down to the Executive Secretary, were lawyers. Even in the wilds of Guatemala, where no one was rich by any American standard, leadership positions tended to rotate among the those who had more than others. Thinking back, virtually all of my Bishops have been very successful white collar professionals. The same is true of Mission Presidents.

Why is this problematic? Because it can lead to a virulent strain of classism amongst members. Those with more money (and position) begin to believe themselves to be more favored of God than other, less-blessed members. Once these folks get into power, they may come to believe that, as evidenced by their pocketbooks, they are more in touch with God’s will, and thus are entitled to push their interpretation of His will onto those they preside over. Similarly, leaders looking at open ward positions may tend to gravitate to the more affluent, assuming their wealth to be an indicator of their worthiness. At the same time, poorer members believe that their financial situation is a curse from God, leading to lowered self-esteem, lessened spirituality and, potentially, departure from the Church.

Such thinking is not unprecedented. Over the past two decades, a new strain of evangelical Christianity based on the principle that wealth equals worthiness, and vice-versa, has come to prominence. Led by televangelists such Creflo Dollar, Joel Osteen and the Crouchs, this “prosperity theology” (aka the “Health and Wealth” or “Name It and Claim It” Gospel) teaches that religious piety will result in the adherent’s material prosperity. Put another way, the more righteous one is, the more financial success he/she can expect to enjoy. In this view, wealth becomes the measure of one’s devotion to God — the more you have, the more “worthy” you must be in the eyes of God and his church. (Apparently, it doesn’t always work out that way, even for celebrities). Preachers of this doctrine are known for their flashy lifestyles, expensive cars, and big paychecks. For example, the New York Times reported that Rev. Dollar is the proud owner of “Rolls-Royces, private jets, million-dollar Atlanta home and $2.5 million Manhattan apartment” (Perhaps I should say, “was the proud owner” — the Senate, led by Chuck Grassley, has opened a probe into the finances of six “prosperity theology” televangelists, including Dollar).

Perhaps you’re thinking I am overstating the case. “Come on, that sort of thing doesn’t actually happen, right?” Wrong. I live in Orange County, California, one of the most affluent counties in the country. Just think of all the reality shows glamorizing the OC lifestyle (“Laguna Beach” & “The Hills,” just to name two). Heck, the housing community where “The Real Housewives of Orange County” is filmed is in my Stake! While we’re not into Creflo Dollar territory just yet, I have had several friends relay to me their concerns over the seeming connection between wealth and worthiness in their wards. One buddy of mine, who is among the few families not to live in the gated community housing the majority of his ward, has told me several times how out of place he feels sitting in Elders’ Quorum while CEOs use lessons to swap stories of their latest international adventures. For me, I’ll admit its strange to pull into a parking lot full of sports cars for Stake Conference.

At the risk of sending this whole topic down the rabbit hole of yet another SSM debate, let me highlight another way in which wealth and worthiness may be inappropriately linked. Here in California, we are in the throes of a pitched battle over Proposition 8, which would amend the California Constitution to outlaw gay marriage. As part of its effort to ensure passage of Prop 8, local stakes (at least here in the OC) have set/been given member fundraising goals. Bishops are responsible for making sure their ward’s goal is met. To do so, talks are given in Sacrament meeting, and lessons are given in the 2d and 3d hours to encourage donations. To make up any remaining difference, ward leaders may send out a mailer to a select number of ward members and/or call through the ward list to ask for money. At the extreme, I am aware of instances in which Bishops have gone into the homes of members to personally request a donation, down to the exact penny.

Personally, I find this sort of behavior problematic for a number of reasons which go beyond the scope of this post. But as an active member of the ward, I am expecting to get the call to donate any day now, along with many others who may share my point of view. If I refuse to commit to a donation on the spot or if I refuse to disclose (i) whether I have donated/will donate, or (ii) how much I have donated/plan to donate, I foresee the potential for a black mark on my worthiness. While my leaders know and like me and I hope that they will understand/respect my point of view, there is the possibility that could be viewed as me “not being part of the team” and, as a result, not “worthy” of priesthood callings. At the same time, those who have more money to give (the wealthy) and who, as a result, give large donations, are likely to be viewed as more worthy. Again, the underlying message is, wealth = worthiness.

For my money (pardon the pun), I think this is an issue worth examining. The Book of Mormon is rife with examples of harmony within the Nephite community being totally undone by wickedness springing directly from the pride of members as a result of their wealth. The question is, how do we address the problem, apart from advising leaders not to take wealth into account when making callings. What do you think? Am I seeing something that is not there? Also, I’m interested to know if this trend (if you want to call it that in the first place) is unique to the West, where there is a concentration of Mormons (and, hence, more rich Mormons).

There was a big disagreement about this on my mission.  An investigator who had been given a chapel card showed up for church just as the sacrament service was beginning.  When the bread tray came to him, he was unsure what to do, so he took a piece of the bread.  Just then, an older missionary who was serving in a branch leadership role jumped up from his seat on the stand and commanded the man (in Spanish) to “Drop it!” which he did.  Needless to say, the investigator never returned.  To explain his actions, the missionary referred to the following scriptures:

3 Ne. 18: 28-29 28 And now behold, this is the commandment which I give unto you, that ye shall not suffer any one knowingly to ^apartake of my flesh and blood ^bunworthily, when ye shall minister it;

29 For whoso eateth and drinketh my flesh and ^ablood ^bunworthily eateth and drinketh damnation to his soul; therefore if ye know that a man is unworthy to eat and drink of my flesh and blood ye shall forbid him.

While this missionary was perhaps alone in his strict interpretation of these scriptures in this specific situation, there is clearly a scriptural prohibition to prevent someone taking the sacrament unworthily.

Should non-members be asked not to partake?  The current mormon.org provides a description of our services for visitors:

A typical meeting would consist of the following:
Hymns: Religious songs sung by the congregation (hymn books are provided).
Prayers: Offered by local Church members.
Partaking of the sacrament (communion):The sacrament consists of prepared bread and water, which is blessed and passed to members of the congregation by priesthood holders .
Speakers: Typically a meeting will have two or three assigned speakers.
We do not pass a plate to request donations as part of our worship services.

There is no specific prohibition made here instructing visitors to not partake.  Does that omission imply non-members are welcome to partake in the spirit of worship although it is not a renewal of their baptismal covenants?

Children and the mentally disabled frequently partake because they are considered innocent and in no way unworthy.  What about ex-Mormons who are not returning to the church but attending due to familial obligation?  What about crazy people (there are lots of brands of crazy)?  What about ex-Mormons who are crazy?

If intervention is desired, who should intervene?  How and when should this take place?  Isn’t a lay member intervening kind of like a citizen’s arrest?  This is one area where I agree with Elizabeth I:  I have “no desire to make windows into men’s souls.”  Nor have I seen anyone burst into flames for touching the sacrament or keel over dead like Uzzah the ark-steadier.  My tendency would be to leave it up to the individual, but perhaps I am being remiss.

And when do you feel you should recuse yourself from taking the sacrament?  For major infractions only?  If you are yelling at the kids to hurry in the morning?