Pioneer Day.

It took me the longest time to stop thinking of July 24 as a holiday after we moved away from Utah. I just naturally wanted fireworks and wienie roasts and Jell-O salads in a backyard or a park, nestled comfortably somewhere in Utah County. I wanted Home.

As a kid, I felt about the 24th of July the way most Americans feel about the 4th. It seemed the 24th was always bigger than the 4th to me. Somehow I felt I owed my patriotism to my pioneer heritage as much, if not more than, to my country.

It was part of growing up Utah Mormon.

I'm not sure how the whole pioneer thing resonates with members of the Church in other areas of the world. I can imagine that it probably doesn't resonate much at all. It's an example of one of those places in the Church where there is a divide between the Utah Original and the Modern Worldwide versions. 

We're on to Mormonism 2.0 now. And sometimes running the updated software on the old equipment can be a bit glitchy.

Why do we western-variety Mormons love our pioneer stories so much? Because they're ours. Uniquely ours. And they speak volumes about the dedication of the people who sacrificed everything to be able to live the religion they loved, follow the prophets they believed in and worship the God they chose. When we tell those stories, we feel connected at the roots. To a belief system and to a place. We feel like a family with somewhere to call Home.

Church members in other parts of the world forge their own stories and connections, I'm sure. They feel rooted to the first generation members in their families, the missionaries who shared the gospel with and/or baptized them, to influential Church leaders in their areas, to the community of people they serve with and worship with. They feel connected to temples they sacrificed to attend, chapels they waited and prayed for eagerly and with great faith. They have their own stories to love and to tell. They may themselves be pioneers.

And perhaps we would benefit more from learning their stories than they do from hearing us repeat ours over and over. It might help better unify the whole, and give us a more accurate picture of the Church we are all part of now. I don't know.

Mostly I'm just for sharing stories.

I'm for sharing stories because it is in our stories that we come to identify as a family. What happens when you sit a family down around a table together? After awhile, they always trot out the old stories.

And even if we've heard them a thousand times, we all stick around to hear them again.

Feeling connected to the lore makes us part of the tribe. Even things that happened in the family before we were born seem somehow to become part of our personal experience.

It's the same thing that makes great literature great. In telling the human story, suddenly everyone is in the club.

A friend who is not a Mormon described it well. He said, "I've thought for a long time that the afterlife, which is to say our real lives, once these birthing pains are ended, will involve accessibility to each other -- an understanding so deep that we'll finally get each other's basic joke."

In my favorite of the Gospel Topics essays, Becoming Like God, our eternal relationships are described in this way: 

"Church members imagine exaltation less through images of what they will get and more through the relationships they have now and how those relationships might be purified and elevated."

They're both saying the same thing, really. Heaven will mean understanding and being understood, loving and being loved perfectly...relationships distilled. Through sealing we all become connected to each other and to God by covenant. An elevation of our human family. 

This is the end goal of our faith, the Home we're all journeying toward. Our eventual Zion.

In preparation, maybe we should focus more on strengthening our connections here and now. Knowing each other in ways that lead to understanding and loving. I think it's swell to trot out our old stories for pioneer day, but I'd really like to become better acquainted with some of the new ones too. I want to know all the ways in which we're family. It's an arduous Mormon trek right here in 2014. And since we're traveling together, at the end of the day I'd like to hear about your journey.

(Did anyone bring marshmallows?...we're gonna need a bigger campfire.)
  
- S.

Can We Talk?

When you have got an elephant by the hind legs 

and he is trying to run away, it's best to let him run.

-- Abraham Lincoln

The most recent Gospel Topics essay put out by the Church is on the origins of the Book of Abraham, specifically, but implied more generally is a clarification of what might constitute a "translation" in the context of our canonized scripture. The idea, as they advance it in this essay, is huge. My mind is still struggling under the weight. Which is fine with me; it's nice to have something new to chew on that contains neither the word Priesthood nor the word excommunication.

I love these essays. They take cans of worms, they open them, they (almost) get them sorted, and they (almost) make me feel better.

No really, I do love them because they are an attempt on the part of the Church to take some thorny issues, help us view them through the lens of historical context, and then provide a current, official viewpoint. I'm not sure why they're not being more widely publicized. It's my understanding that they're not being translated into additional languages, for instance. If that is true, I hope it changes in the future. I find them extremely beneficial. 

They feel like talking.

They feel like we're actually acknowledging a few of our Mormon Elephants.

Part of what I have struggled with most in my church life has been that I've always seen elephants, and I've wondered if I'm the only one. I've sat in so many meetings where I've wanted to raise my hand and say, "BUT --" or "Come on...really?!" But I often feel like the question that is so painfully obvious to me must be invisible to everyone else.

Which is the kind of thing that can make you wonder whether you're crazy, or at the very least in the wrong meeting.

A blog post over at Patheos stopped me in my tracks the other day. It was called Mormon Women, Traditionalists and Feminists: An Evolving Conversation, written by Andrea Radke-Moss, a history professor at BYU. She said many things so well, but this is the passage to which I keep returning:
 
"For example, most Mormon women have probably heard, at any given time, and in no particular order, the following:
Women don't have the Priesthood. Women have always had the Priesthood. Women have the Priesthood in the temple. Women have the Priesthood through their husbands. Women will never have the Priesthood. Women don't have the Priesthood because they are spiritually inferior to men. Women don't have the Priesthood because they are spiritually superior to men. Women will have the Priesthood in the next life. Women don't have the Priesthood because they have motherhood. Not all women are mothers (literally). All women are mothers (symbolically). Mormons practice polygamy. Mormons don't practice polygamy. Traditional marriage is between one man and one woman. Men can be sealed to more than one woman. Members will be required to practice plural marriage in the next life. Members won't be required to practice plural marriage in the next life. Women might exercise the spiritual gift of healing by the laying on of hands. Women cannot heal because it is an exercise of priesthood. Women can heal together with their husbands. A woman's prayer of faith is just as effective as a priesthood blessing. (But then why the need for priesthood blessings?)"

When you've heard many (if not all) of those things, and she's right -- if you've been around your whole life, you probably have -- the whole thing can feel like a bit of a confused mess. I mean, read that jumble again. Clear as mud, right? Part of the problem is that we have a tremendous array of what I call "folk doctrine" circulating in the Church, sometimes masquerading as official teachings. That's probably one of the hazards of having a lay ministry and largely unsupervised teaching staff.

But a bigger part of the problem for me is that we do continue to have what I see as some contradictions between our doctrines, our "official public platform" and our actual practices.

I'll use polygamy as an example (!ALERT -- HOT BUTTON TOPIC!) and I'll try to do it without getting too far up on my soapbox.

We don't talk about it much in meetings, but the majority of the women I have really engaged on this subject over the course of my life in the Church have confided to me that they don't really "believe" in polygamy. This takes different forms and there's a wide range of responses, but the bottom line is that most seem to regard it as a "blip" of some kind, or in some way. Some flat-out reject it (albeit mostly silently); others have decided that they'll "deal with it when the time comes", putting it on the shelf for now and hoping for greater knowledge and understanding if that's required later.

I know, mine is a very informal survey. But I've lived around the country, and associated with many Mormon women in all ages and stages. So I think there's at least a kernel of validity.

Having lived most of my adult life outside Utah, I've spent a lot of my time doing Polygamy Damage Control among my non-member friends and neighbors. Every time it hits the national news, I'm busy tidying up the resulting mess and confusion yet again. The church has worked very hard to distance itself from polygamy. The official message is clear: We don't practice it. And furthermore, we don't associate with groups that do. You cannot be a polygamist and a member of the LDS church. Period. And I think people are finally getting the message.

BUT...I was recently reading the transcript of a 2007 interview that Dallin Oaks did for PBS, and came across something that hit me with unexpected force. The interviewer was pressing him about polygamy, and asked him point blank whether it would be practiced in the next life, and Elder Oaks said, "...a lot of people, myself included, are in multiple marriage situations. Look at the significance of that." He went on to say that he is married to more than one wife for eternity and that while he doesn't know what it will be like, he expects that if he is true to the covenant, the blessing that is anticipated here will be realized in the next life. 

Sealed to two women? Well now I knew that, of course. We have a couple of apostles who are. So his response shouldn't have taken me by surprise, yet it did. Precisely because we spend so much time saying we don't practice polygamy.

We obviously do.

Of course, I've always known that we continue to seal men to multiple women. For some reason I just hadn't really thought about that as being a statement of the fact that we do, indeed, believe in...and practice...polygamy.

As we were so fond of saying in the 70's...Duh. I have no explanation as to why I had not heretofore chosen to completely connect these dots. But now that they have been connected, I can't seem to un-see the resulting image.

And here's an example of a place where I want to shout "BUT --" and also "Come on...really?!" and wonder whether I'm in the right place.

We can't ignore the Polygamy Elephant in hopes that it will wander away and give us a little distance...while we're simultaneously continuing to feed it. We can't have it both ways.

If the Church really wants to clear up our stance on polygamy, we could best clear it up among members if we stopped practicing it, in my opinion. Of course, we might have to do a bit of revision in the D&C also. I don't know how that would work. If we do intend to keep practicing it, then we need to change the public answer to more accurately reflect our doctrine. Something along the lines of, "Yes, we do believe in polygamy and although it is not currently legal, we continue to practice it through our sealing ordinances, which we expect will remain in force for eternity."

Based on my highly informal "research", many women might have a problem with that public representation of things. I would.

Would it be better if we were to also allow women to be sealed to more than one man? I don't know. I only know that the way it stands, it meets the definition of polygamy.

It's just one example, but it is an important one to me. When I explain to my friends that we don't practice polygamy, I like to be able to stand behind that answer without having to nuance it in any way, in my head or aloud. And when I explain to myself that we don't practice polygamy, I like to be able to take President Hinckley at his word and finish off with "end of story".

“This Church has nothing whatever to do with those practicing polygamy. They are not members of this Church.... If any of our members are found to be practicing plural marriage, they are excommunicated, the most serious penalty the Church can impose. Not only are those so involved in direct violation of the civil law, they are in violation of the law of this Church.” (President Hinckley's statement, as currently referenced on Mormon.org.)

That makes sense to me. Everything I see in the temple and in our much-heralded Proclamation and in the face we put on when we go out in public tells me this: The entire plan comes down to one man and one woman. That's the unit upon which we're built. It's the stance we are in the business of publicly defending, but if we are going to really get behind the one man/one woman concept, then it seems we better really get behind it.

I'm sure there are many among my friends and family who wonder, "Why does Susan struggle so much with all these church things?"

Well, I've just provided one example. I look at an elephant of that size and wonder how everyone isn't wrestling with it. In Radke-Moss's list I find several more that I feel should merit further clarification as well. And she provided that list in response to only one idea, a woman's role in relation to the Priesthood.

I think most members avoid thinking about the whole thing, embracing instead the idea that "God will sort it all out." While I have the faith to believe that is undoubtedly true, I also think it would make sense for us to stop creating so many things that may need later sorting. We should do our part.

I find Christ's gospel to be fairly simple and straightforward. But I find Church history and doctrine to require me to step over elephants. I've been making my way around them for years, but it'd be awfully nice to see us usher a few of them right out the door, so I can finally close it behind them completely.

For the record, I'm not holding my breath. I have tremendous affection for and patience with the Church, and I think I prove that every time I show up and renew my baptismal covenant. Just the other day, my daughter Chelsea said, "I would be devastated if I didn't have a place to sing a nice loud alto or tenor part to the hymns every week." 

Agreed! Well said. And for me, putting up with a few pesky elephants still seems a fair price to pay for that privilege.

But I'm glad -- oh, so glad! -- we're at least beginning to talk. I was afraid we might never start.

- S.

Rebuttal.

There was a blog post going around earlier this week by a well-loved Mormon blogger about 5 reasons no one should leave the church. 

The first reason on the list was being offended. We had a RS lesson recently in which someone posited the same thing, and after biting my tongue through the whole lesson I thought about writing this post then, but other things happened that shifted my attention away from the topic. So I'm going to write it now. And I am going to defend forever my, or anyone's, right to be offended. And/or to leave the church for whatever reason makes someone need to leave.

When a person can give a list of 5 reasons no one should leave, it merely points to the fact that the list-maker has not personally encountered those reasons. And in my experience, it's a good idea never to make blanket pronouncements because in my experience, I often end up eating them.

The interesting thing about the Church is that every person's journey in it is so different depending on what ward he or she is in, and what stage of life, and a hundred other variables. That old saw about "Isn't it wonderful how the Church is the same everywhere you go" is simply not true. 

The gospel doesn't change perhaps, but the Church is as many different churches as there are wards and people running and attending them. So until I've been YOU attending your particular ward, I won't pretend to really know anything about your experience in the church.

Even if we're supposedly getting a lesson out of the same manual every Sunday. Because as we all know, those "same lessons" can vary wildly.

I grew up in a ward where people actually stood up on Fast Sunday and bore testimony that it was "the only true ward in the church". That's a fact, and you can ask anyone who was in Federal Heights Ward in Salt Lake City between the years of 1968-1982 or so. (I admit to having no idea what it's like now.) When the ward was eventually split, after dodging it for years, the weeping and wailing about the impact on property values was intense and very real. I remember visiting my cousin's ward as a young child and feeling sad for everyone there because they were not members of my clearly superior ward. I remember looking around their unpretentious chapel and wondering how they could believe. 

Yikes. I'm not proud of those feelings.

I've always been a little sorry that I grew up with that kind of warped perception. By the time I was an adult, my perspective had shifted and I instead envied people who had the privilege of growing up with a humbler ward experience. Getting some of the puffed-up, myopic ward-pride focus corrected made it easier for me to see the gospel at work in the lives of the people.

As we've moved around, I've loved discovering the ways the gospel can thrive in so many different types of ward families. But I don't for a minute agree that the church is the same everywhere.

The Federal Heights Ward chapel

The ward I grew up in has very little in common with the ward I just visited this week in Panama.

Our new, non-air-conditioned ward in Panama, where I understood very little but still managed to sing the hymns in my usual awkwardly loud way

I was delighted to find my mom's hymn, 

despite the language barrier, and was quite proud of myself (and her!)

Every ward has its own personality, and having lived in many, and in many areas of the country, I have come to understand that sometimes we play well together and sometimes we just don't get along. I've found value in both of those situations, and one of the things I like best about the way our church is organized is that we don't get to choose our congregation but are instead assigned based on geographical boundaries. It can help us learn to love others when we have the opportunity to worship and serve with people we wouldn't necessarily seek out by choice. I have always felt that's an inspired model.

But being in the wrong ward at the wrong time can also cause serious and lasting spiritual damage. I've come as close to leaving as a result of problems in my ward as a person can come, and we did actually go on "church vacation" once while we waited for a move to materialize just so that we could avoid walking away permanently. We had to save our testimonies by not attending for awhile. If that seems like the wrong choice to you, all I can say is that you haven't run into the right kind of challenge yet. We did, and there are a few lasting scars. But once we moved, we were able to pick up in a new ward and carry on. I've always looked at that move as a very real blessing. 

To be honest, the church vacation was in some ways a blessing, too. We spent many whole weekends of quality family time in an attempt to put our weeks away from ward engagement to good use, and it paid dividends. The whole experience has become a meaningful part of my personal faith story.

Our lives as members of the church are neither static nor absolute. They shift, they change, they move and grow with us. So I'm never going to tell anyone how to feel about their ward or their interactions with the people in it. And since I believe the ward has such a tremendous impact on our overall church experience, I'm pretty sure I can't speak to that for anyone either. 

I'm just going to hope for everyone reading this that if it isn't being good, something is going to change to make it better.

If you've never felt marginalized as a woman at church, good for you. If you've never been offended in any deep or meaningful way, I hope your streak continues. If you've never felt the sting of people being straight-up mean, that's the way it should be. If you've never felt like the misjudged misfit in your ward family, I think that's wonderful. 

No one should feel those things. But people do.

If you have, or you do, well then I understand. And I'm sorry. And if there's anything I can do to help you desire to hang in awhile longer, please let me know. Because I've been there. For me, just having people in my life who were willing to allow me to tell my story, and mourn with me, and comfort me with the assurance that it was no reflection on my worthiness or faithfulness or anything about me, helped me survive and want to stick around. 

I think there's only one real reason no one should leave the church. That is as a result of our unwillingness to do everything we can to show them that they're loved and valued, they belong to and with us and for those reasons, we truly want to keep them in the fold.

- S.