I'm sitting in the part-time faculty office at the church college where I teach. I very rarely come in here; most days I arrive just in time for my classes, teach them, and leave. Today there is an important meeting for English faculty, and believe me, if it were not super important, I would not wait around for it. I'm pretty careful about my time. I am not a full-time employee. I do not not earn a full-time salary. This is my choice. I prefer to be primarily an at-home mom, and to teach a couple classes on the side.
But today's meeting is important. It involves a serious change in curriculum for English 101, a class I teach every semester. So I need to stay. I need to wait the 2.5 hours since my last class ended to attend the 90-minute training on this new curriculum, and I don't really mind because it happens so infrequently.
What I do mind is that it's cold outside, and I'm stuck here for 2.5 hours, and nowhere on this campus can I find a real Diet Coke. They have pretend Diet Coke (caffeine free) in the student cafe. It's awful. If you've never tried it, don't even bother. They have more pretend Diet Coke in the bookstore. But nowhere do they have the real thing.
Grrrrrr.
Why not? you may ask. Well there's this crazy belief that permeates LDS culture that caffeine is a violation of our church's health code called the "Word of Wisdom."
It isn't. Plain and simple. No discussion needed.
The Word of Wisdom includes many things people should take into their bodies in order to remain healthy physically and spiritually, along with a few things to avoid: hot drinks (interpreted to mean coffee and non-herbal tea), tobacco, and alcohol. That's it. Not a single word about caffeine.
Why, then, can't I find a real Diet Coke anywhere on campus? Apparently, this cultural myth is so pervasive that it has somehow influenced church policy, even in terms of what drinks are available on the campuses of church-sponsored colleges. We Mormons love our rules, but honestly, do we need to add additional ones that aren't even real?
And everyone seems to know it's not real. At any given time, you will find one employee or another from our school (teachers, support staff, even our dean) braving the windy cold, walking down the long Utah block and across the street to Crown Burger to get an honest Diet Coke.
Let's end the craziness of "rules" that aren't even rules, so others will feel welcome. Because as President Uchtdorf said, "There is room for you in this church."
Meanwhile, I'm off to Crown Burger.
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
",,,our leaders were mighty men of faith..." (Jarom 1:7)
My children, as they've grown up in the Church, have had many leaders. They have been served by primary teachers, youth leaders, Sunday School and seminary teachers, along with numerous bishopric members. And mostly, it's been good. There are tiny exceptions, where a particular leader has made one of them feel unwelcome or not good enough. I grieve those moments because oh how I want all my children to feel welcome in the Church. The teen years are tumultuous enough; the Church should be a place of refuge from the storm, a source of strength and sustenance for our cherished youth.
Allow me to share a story about a leader who taught the important lesson of welcoming people in love, rather than shunning them in judgment.
I won't share his name, in case he prefers anonymity out on the Web, but he was our stake president the seven years we lived in Billings. I'll call him President G. One year, Eli came home from Youth Standards Night with a lesson he will never forget. When he entered the chapel, he was surprised to see three young men in attendance, wearing jeans and t-shirts, sitting up toward the front. "Not gonna lie, Mom. I judged them. 'Why are they dressed like that?' I thought to myself. 'It's standards night; don't they know they're supposed to wear church clothes?'"
At some point during the meeting, President G. called these boys up to the front and asked the congregation, "How many of you judged these guys because of their clothes, rather than simply welcoming them and being grateful they were here?" Lot of nods and whispers. He then explained that he staged this whole thing. He called these three (and their parents) ahead of time and asked them to come dressed like that and to sit where everyone could see them. He wanted to teach the importance of welcoming: "We don't know others' circumstances. We don't know their stories. We are to love them, welcome them, and withhold judgment."
Oooh, President G., I did not know you well at that time. Other than spending a few minutes with you when you set Luke apart for his mission, I had never really spoken to you before. But you won my heart over that night. Is it any wonder you would later be called to serve as a mission president, to guide and nurture countless young elders and sisters at a pivotal point in their lives? What lucky missionaries!
With few exceptions, my kids have had great leaders. President G. was just one. Today, Seth has diligent Sunday School teachers who work hard to bring the light of the Gospel to their students each week. He has a dedicated seminary teacher who offers respite in his day from the R-rated movie that is high school---I was there at dismissal time one day last week and heard the F-bomb shouted at least six times in the five minutes it took me to walk from the front door to the office. And he has the most crazy awesome Young Men's President ever, who makes him laugh all the time from the constant goofiness, all the while demonstrating a living testimony of his commitment to the Savior and his Church. I could ask for nothing more.
"... our leaders were mighty men of faith..." (Jarom 1:7).
Indeed.
May we follow the example of President G. and welcome our youth. No matter what. We can't afford to do otherwise. We can't afford to lose them.
As President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you [including hormone-raging, sometimes moody, unpredictable teenagers] in this church."
Allow me to share a story about a leader who taught the important lesson of welcoming people in love, rather than shunning them in judgment.
I won't share his name, in case he prefers anonymity out on the Web, but he was our stake president the seven years we lived in Billings. I'll call him President G. One year, Eli came home from Youth Standards Night with a lesson he will never forget. When he entered the chapel, he was surprised to see three young men in attendance, wearing jeans and t-shirts, sitting up toward the front. "Not gonna lie, Mom. I judged them. 'Why are they dressed like that?' I thought to myself. 'It's standards night; don't they know they're supposed to wear church clothes?'"
At some point during the meeting, President G. called these boys up to the front and asked the congregation, "How many of you judged these guys because of their clothes, rather than simply welcoming them and being grateful they were here?" Lot of nods and whispers. He then explained that he staged this whole thing. He called these three (and their parents) ahead of time and asked them to come dressed like that and to sit where everyone could see them. He wanted to teach the importance of welcoming: "We don't know others' circumstances. We don't know their stories. We are to love them, welcome them, and withhold judgment."
Oooh, President G., I did not know you well at that time. Other than spending a few minutes with you when you set Luke apart for his mission, I had never really spoken to you before. But you won my heart over that night. Is it any wonder you would later be called to serve as a mission president, to guide and nurture countless young elders and sisters at a pivotal point in their lives? What lucky missionaries!
With few exceptions, my kids have had great leaders. President G. was just one. Today, Seth has diligent Sunday School teachers who work hard to bring the light of the Gospel to their students each week. He has a dedicated seminary teacher who offers respite in his day from the R-rated movie that is high school---I was there at dismissal time one day last week and heard the F-bomb shouted at least six times in the five minutes it took me to walk from the front door to the office. And he has the most crazy awesome Young Men's President ever, who makes him laugh all the time from the constant goofiness, all the while demonstrating a living testimony of his commitment to the Savior and his Church. I could ask for nothing more.
"... our leaders were mighty men of faith..." (Jarom 1:7).
Indeed.
May we follow the example of President G. and welcome our youth. No matter what. We can't afford to do otherwise. We can't afford to lose them.
As President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you [including hormone-raging, sometimes moody, unpredictable teenagers] in this church."
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Piercings and Pokemon Go
In October of 2000, I sat in the mothers' room of my ward building nursing Seth and listened to a broadcast from President Gordon B. Hinckley. His talk, "Great Shall Be the Peace of Thy Children," was typically powerful, and because it offered counsel to parents, it was particularly meaningful to me with my four-month-old baby in my arms and four older children in the chapel with their dad. President Hinckley spoke about guarding against the dangers of drugs and alcohol, pornography, and a plethora of other sad circumstances that wreak havoc on our children, all of which continue to do so today, 16 years later.
In that talk was one line that became most famous, for reasons I'll never understand. It was just a small snippet in a nearly 3,000-word discourse, yet it became a litmus test for obedience and, sadly, a yardstick by which to either praise or judge the women of the Church (well, those who happened to have two sets of ear piercings). That line was this:
In that talk was one line that became most famous, for reasons I'll never understand. It was just a small snippet in a nearly 3,000-word discourse, yet it became a litmus test for obedience and, sadly, a yardstick by which to either praise or judge the women of the Church (well, those who happened to have two sets of ear piercings). That line was this:
"We do not, however, take any position on the minimal piercing of the ears by women for one pair of earrings.”
Suddenly, there were two camps for women with double piercings, those who went right home and removed that second earring, and those who didn't. Those in former group were praised for their obedience. I began to hear talks that referred to this sister or that one, who was so perfectly obedient. It was as though suddenly, the key to being an obedient Latter-day Saint woman was to show off to the world that you removed that second earring.
I could not be that woman. Because I only had one ear piercing. These things just never work out for me.
What saddens me is that it seemed like no one even remembered all the other wonderful messages in President Hinckley's talk. He spoke about how our children need our help to resist the evil influences that surround them, how they need prayer, how they need to exercise self control, and how they need "the strength of good
friends." It was such powerful counsel, but I fear hardly anyone cared once it was over, because all the focus was centered on that dang second ear piercing.
We Mormons love our rules, but sometimes I worry that we might love them more than we love the doctrine or the spirit of counsel. You see, I know President Hinckley. Okay, no, I didn't know him personally, but I felt like I knew him through years of listening to him and seeking to learn from, adopt, and apply his incredibly optimistic and welcoming attitude to my own life. So I don't think for a second his purpose here was to incite a culture of praise/pride or judgement of women in the Church, based on how many ear piercings they have.
Instead, I think this very small section of his lengthy talk was intended to teach the doctrine of honoring our bodies for the temples they are, and remembering their sacredness as we make decisions about how to treat them. Beautiful, beautiful doctrine.
Recently, on September 11, 2016 to be exact, Elder M. Russell Ballard spoke in a broadcast to 220 local stakes here in the valley. Like President Hinckley's talk, his was long and full of uplifting counsel. He spoke of the importance of remembering essential habits, helping others find answers to questions, turning to prophets and apostles, living within our means, enjoying each other's company, and loving our neighbors. In a small section of those remarks, he mentioned the giant craze (at the time) of Nintendo's latest video-game Pokemon Go:
"Now, someone has found one more way to keep family members occupied and away from what matters most—it is something called Pokémon Go. I don’t understand this one, so don’t ask me about it. I just know it is one more thing that prompts young people to look down at their smartphones rather than looking up to see the beautiful creations of God’s wonderful world or even someone they may want to meet, date, and marry, with whom they could have a real-world relationship that results in eternal blessings."
Once again, some jumped to the conclusion that the game Pokemon Go is evil, that an apostle said so, and therefore, we should not play it. And the judgement began. But honestly, I don't think Elder Ballard intended to vilify this particular video-game. My guess is he sought to remind us of the importance of putting down that screen (whatever is on it) and talking face to face with our families and friends. I, personally, have never played Pokemon Go or any other video-game, but I spend plenty of time looking at a screen nonetheless. I spend numerous hours on social media, browsing the internet, blogging, writing emails, so the counsel to limit that screen time in favor of "real-world relationship" absolutely applies ot me, even though I've never played Pokemon Go. I'm not sure anyone plays it anymore; it sort of came and went. But the counsel from Elder Ballard endures.
Just like President Hinckley's counsel to honor our bodies.
My hope is that we would strive to heed the counsel of our leaders, rather than praising and judging each other based on specific examples that have little meaning over time. If clinging to a specific example causes us to judge our neighbor, then we probably ought to let go of it and seek to make changes in our own lives instead.
If you are a woman with two ear piercings, you are welcome. If you play Pokemon Go, you are welcome. Because as President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you in this church."
Instead, I think this very small section of his lengthy talk was intended to teach the doctrine of honoring our bodies for the temples they are, and remembering their sacredness as we make decisions about how to treat them. Beautiful, beautiful doctrine.
Recently, on September 11, 2016 to be exact, Elder M. Russell Ballard spoke in a broadcast to 220 local stakes here in the valley. Like President Hinckley's talk, his was long and full of uplifting counsel. He spoke of the importance of remembering essential habits, helping others find answers to questions, turning to prophets and apostles, living within our means, enjoying each other's company, and loving our neighbors. In a small section of those remarks, he mentioned the giant craze (at the time) of Nintendo's latest video-game Pokemon Go:
"Now, someone has found one more way to keep family members occupied and away from what matters most—it is something called Pokémon Go. I don’t understand this one, so don’t ask me about it. I just know it is one more thing that prompts young people to look down at their smartphones rather than looking up to see the beautiful creations of God’s wonderful world or even someone they may want to meet, date, and marry, with whom they could have a real-world relationship that results in eternal blessings."
Once again, some jumped to the conclusion that the game Pokemon Go is evil, that an apostle said so, and therefore, we should not play it. And the judgement began. But honestly, I don't think Elder Ballard intended to vilify this particular video-game. My guess is he sought to remind us of the importance of putting down that screen (whatever is on it) and talking face to face with our families and friends. I, personally, have never played Pokemon Go or any other video-game, but I spend plenty of time looking at a screen nonetheless. I spend numerous hours on social media, browsing the internet, blogging, writing emails, so the counsel to limit that screen time in favor of "real-world relationship" absolutely applies ot me, even though I've never played Pokemon Go. I'm not sure anyone plays it anymore; it sort of came and went. But the counsel from Elder Ballard endures.
Just like President Hinckley's counsel to honor our bodies.
My hope is that we would strive to heed the counsel of our leaders, rather than praising and judging each other based on specific examples that have little meaning over time. If clinging to a specific example causes us to judge our neighbor, then we probably ought to let go of it and seek to make changes in our own lives instead.
If you are a woman with two ear piercings, you are welcome. If you play Pokemon Go, you are welcome. Because as President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you in this church."
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Suffer the Children
The first time Gerald attended an LDS Sacrament Meeting, he left with little recollection of anything that happened. Why? He was too distracted by the beautiful noise of children and the bustle of parents walking in and out of the meeting carrying crying infants and unhappy toddlers.
You see, in the Protestant church in which he grew up (along with most others I know of), children do not attend the primary worship service or at least not all of it. Instead, these churches have a nursery for babies and often a children's church program that happens concurrently with the regular adult worship service. In some cases, children attend the regular meeting for, say 15 minutes, and then go forward for a brief children's sermon before departing to another room for "children's church."
As a result, the worship meeting is pin drop quiet.
In our church, we welcome the children through our entire Sacrament Meeting. This is the one opportunity during the week for entire families to worship together, so there is no nursery or children's programming. During this 70-minute period, everyone is together. I'm not going to make a judgment call about which way is better; it's a cultural thing, not doctrine. I happen to like it that the kids are there. It feels right to me and seems in accordance with Jesus' teachings in Matthew 19, when he instructed us to "Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for such is the kingdom of heaven."
But as I said, it's culture.
(As an aside, "suffer" here is an example of a lovely King James English word, whose meaning has shifted entirely in modern times. Back then, it meant "allow" or "permit." Alas, the use of the King James Bible is another post for another time.)
Back to the topic, if we are going to suffer the children, indeed if we are going to welcome them into our meeting, then we need to truly welcome them, as children, not as miniature adults. We should expect them to act like children, and that means crying infants, active toddlers, talkative preschoolers, and squirmy kids. Seventy minutes is a long time, way too long to expect little people to sit quietly. Goodness, I am a full-grown adult, and sometimes it's even hard for me to do it, and I understand what's going on up there. These little ones don't have a clue, and their attentions spans are super short, much shorter than 70 minutes.
So how do we welcome them? First, we support their sweet parents and we don't judge. Once upon a Sunday, I had a 15-year-old, a 14-year-old, a 9-year old, a 7-year-old, and a newborn baby. Gerald was serving as Ward Clerk, back when Ward Clerks sat up front in the little "Clerk" booth and then walked up and down the aisles counting people. Remember those days? They don't do that anymore, but they did then, so I was alone in the pew. My 15-year-old son was also up front, preparing to pass the Sacrament, and my 14-year-old daughter was on the stand preparing to give a talk. I had just nursed my baby sound asleep, and all I wanted to do was sit and listen to my daughter give her talk, but my two little boys were acting like normal children. They were squirming around and being noisy, and I was sure everyone was looking at me and wondering why I couldn't control my children.
Sensing my distress, a kind, older lady sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry. Enjoy your daughter's talk. Your boys are just fine." I will never forget her. This kind gesture was exactly the support I needed right then, and it is the support I want to offer parents of young children now. Let's help them to know that we love their children and, more importantly, that we love to hear their children in Sacrament Meeting. We Mormons have a lot of kids, so our meetings will never be quiet, but isn't that wonderful? Of course inconsolable babies need to be carried out, and all parents do that, but expecting quiet from a room full of little kids is both unrealistic and ridiculous.
So how do we welcome them? Second, we allow parents to make their own, individual parenting decisions. There is a culture in our church that adheres to certain rules, and sometimes parents who don't follow those rules can feel judged. For example, many LDS parents choose not to give their children any snacks or toys until after the administration of the sacrament, so around 20 minutes into the meeting. This is a perfectly fine policy for those who wish to follow it, but it isn't doctrine, and it isn't for everyone. I gave my kids food, books, paper, toys, jewelry, ANYTHING that would keep them happy from the second we sat down. Seventy minutes is a LONG time. I did my best, and I have no regrets. And yes, in their own time, each learned reverence for the sacrament. My youngest now blesses it every week, and often I am told how much people appreciate the sincere and reverent way in which he does it.
Accordingly, I have heard people advise parents that if they have to take their toddler or young child out of the meeting, they should be sure not to make it a pleasant experience in the foyer. "Be sure they don't have any fun out there, or they will always want to go out." Again, this is fine for parents who believe this way, absolutely fine. But it wouldn't be my style, and that is okay too. I wanted my kids to like church. I wanted them to want to go. I wanted them to have fun there, and I knew that their age-appropriate behavior would mean that often, we would need to step out for while, so they could move their little bodies. I honestly have fond memories of some of these times: "I know it's hard to sit for so long. Let's take a break together." The bonds we created during those times continue even today, and my youngest is 16.
Whatever our parenting style, may we welcome the children for who they are, precious spirits of our Heavenly Parents, lent to us for such a short time. May we celebrate their voices! Their very presence is evidence of God's love.
Let us suffer the children, because as President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you [even the tiniest] in this church."
You see, in the Protestant church in which he grew up (along with most others I know of), children do not attend the primary worship service or at least not all of it. Instead, these churches have a nursery for babies and often a children's church program that happens concurrently with the regular adult worship service. In some cases, children attend the regular meeting for, say 15 minutes, and then go forward for a brief children's sermon before departing to another room for "children's church."
As a result, the worship meeting is pin drop quiet.
In our church, we welcome the children through our entire Sacrament Meeting. This is the one opportunity during the week for entire families to worship together, so there is no nursery or children's programming. During this 70-minute period, everyone is together. I'm not going to make a judgment call about which way is better; it's a cultural thing, not doctrine. I happen to like it that the kids are there. It feels right to me and seems in accordance with Jesus' teachings in Matthew 19, when he instructed us to "Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for such is the kingdom of heaven."
But as I said, it's culture.
(As an aside, "suffer" here is an example of a lovely King James English word, whose meaning has shifted entirely in modern times. Back then, it meant "allow" or "permit." Alas, the use of the King James Bible is another post for another time.)
Back to the topic, if we are going to suffer the children, indeed if we are going to welcome them into our meeting, then we need to truly welcome them, as children, not as miniature adults. We should expect them to act like children, and that means crying infants, active toddlers, talkative preschoolers, and squirmy kids. Seventy minutes is a long time, way too long to expect little people to sit quietly. Goodness, I am a full-grown adult, and sometimes it's even hard for me to do it, and I understand what's going on up there. These little ones don't have a clue, and their attentions spans are super short, much shorter than 70 minutes.
So how do we welcome them? First, we support their sweet parents and we don't judge. Once upon a Sunday, I had a 15-year-old, a 14-year-old, a 9-year old, a 7-year-old, and a newborn baby. Gerald was serving as Ward Clerk, back when Ward Clerks sat up front in the little "Clerk" booth and then walked up and down the aisles counting people. Remember those days? They don't do that anymore, but they did then, so I was alone in the pew. My 15-year-old son was also up front, preparing to pass the Sacrament, and my 14-year-old daughter was on the stand preparing to give a talk. I had just nursed my baby sound asleep, and all I wanted to do was sit and listen to my daughter give her talk, but my two little boys were acting like normal children. They were squirming around and being noisy, and I was sure everyone was looking at me and wondering why I couldn't control my children.
Sensing my distress, a kind, older lady sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry. Enjoy your daughter's talk. Your boys are just fine." I will never forget her. This kind gesture was exactly the support I needed right then, and it is the support I want to offer parents of young children now. Let's help them to know that we love their children and, more importantly, that we love to hear their children in Sacrament Meeting. We Mormons have a lot of kids, so our meetings will never be quiet, but isn't that wonderful? Of course inconsolable babies need to be carried out, and all parents do that, but expecting quiet from a room full of little kids is both unrealistic and ridiculous.
So how do we welcome them? Second, we allow parents to make their own, individual parenting decisions. There is a culture in our church that adheres to certain rules, and sometimes parents who don't follow those rules can feel judged. For example, many LDS parents choose not to give their children any snacks or toys until after the administration of the sacrament, so around 20 minutes into the meeting. This is a perfectly fine policy for those who wish to follow it, but it isn't doctrine, and it isn't for everyone. I gave my kids food, books, paper, toys, jewelry, ANYTHING that would keep them happy from the second we sat down. Seventy minutes is a LONG time. I did my best, and I have no regrets. And yes, in their own time, each learned reverence for the sacrament. My youngest now blesses it every week, and often I am told how much people appreciate the sincere and reverent way in which he does it.
Accordingly, I have heard people advise parents that if they have to take their toddler or young child out of the meeting, they should be sure not to make it a pleasant experience in the foyer. "Be sure they don't have any fun out there, or they will always want to go out." Again, this is fine for parents who believe this way, absolutely fine. But it wouldn't be my style, and that is okay too. I wanted my kids to like church. I wanted them to want to go. I wanted them to have fun there, and I knew that their age-appropriate behavior would mean that often, we would need to step out for while, so they could move their little bodies. I honestly have fond memories of some of these times: "I know it's hard to sit for so long. Let's take a break together." The bonds we created during those times continue even today, and my youngest is 16.
Whatever our parenting style, may we welcome the children for who they are, precious spirits of our Heavenly Parents, lent to us for such a short time. May we celebrate their voices! Their very presence is evidence of God's love.
Let us suffer the children, because as President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you [even the tiniest] in this church."
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
The many forms of "you"
In our church, when people pray, it is common for them to use the words "thou, thee, and thy" to address deity, rather than "you or your." I suspect this is mostly the result of tradition; we've always done it that way. Which is just fine. What isn't fine is when we tell others they need to pray that way because it shows greater respect or reverence for God.
In reality, it's quite the opposite.
If you've ever studied a foreign language such as Spanish or French or German, you learned about the two different ways to say "you," either formal or familiar. The formal choice always shows greater respect and is used for people above you in station, or for people who are significantly older than you, or for those you don't know well. The familiar form is used for children, close friends, family, people you know well.
In Spanish, the formal form of "you" is "usted," and the familiar is "tu" In French, the formal is "vous," and the familiar (like Spanish) is "tú." In German, the formal form is "Sie" and the familiar "du."
But what about English? Currently, we don't make any distinction; we use "you" for everyone. But that wasn't always the case. Up until the 17th Century, English, like Spanish, French, and German, had two forms of its 2nd person pronoun. But guess what? "You and your" were the formal forms, while "thou, thee, and thy" were the familiar. Truth.
So when we use "thou, thee, and thy" to address our Heavenly Father, we are choosing the familiar form of the pronoun. It is not more respectful or more reverent. It is actually the casual, friendly, more intimate choice, the form we would use with someone we know very well.
Which is exactly why I like it and why I use it myself. Okay, and also probably because I've been a member of the Church for over 20 years, and I'm used to hearing it that way. But I really do like the familiar form to address God because when I use it, I feel like I am praying to someone I know well, someone who is literally my Father, my family. Also, as a literature major, I'm comfortable with 17th Century English.
However, not everyone likes to pray that way. Many prefer to use the same language they use in everyday life, rather than a form that hasn't been used in English for over 300 years. And they have every right to pray in whatever way is comfortable for them. I'm confident our Father in Heaven doesn't care in the least which form, formal or familiar, of the 2nd person pronoun we use when we address Him. He really just wants to hear from us. All over the scriptures, we are called to counsel with Him, to seek Him out at all times and in all situations. That is what matters.
So let's take care not to tell others that they need to say "thou and thee" when they pray because it's more reverent and respectful.
Cuz it isn't. It just isn't.
Instead, let us encourage others to use whichever words they prefer, as they seek out our Father in Heaven in sincere prayer, whether privately or in a group setting.
May we welcome everyone (and everyone's prayers) because as President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you in this church."
In reality, it's quite the opposite.
If you've ever studied a foreign language such as Spanish or French or German, you learned about the two different ways to say "you," either formal or familiar. The formal choice always shows greater respect and is used for people above you in station, or for people who are significantly older than you, or for those you don't know well. The familiar form is used for children, close friends, family, people you know well.
In Spanish, the formal form of "you" is "usted," and the familiar is "tu" In French, the formal is "vous," and the familiar (like Spanish) is "tú." In German, the formal form is "Sie" and the familiar "du."
But what about English? Currently, we don't make any distinction; we use "you" for everyone. But that wasn't always the case. Up until the 17th Century, English, like Spanish, French, and German, had two forms of its 2nd person pronoun. But guess what? "You and your" were the formal forms, while "thou, thee, and thy" were the familiar. Truth.
So when we use "thou, thee, and thy" to address our Heavenly Father, we are choosing the familiar form of the pronoun. It is not more respectful or more reverent. It is actually the casual, friendly, more intimate choice, the form we would use with someone we know very well.
Which is exactly why I like it and why I use it myself. Okay, and also probably because I've been a member of the Church for over 20 years, and I'm used to hearing it that way. But I really do like the familiar form to address God because when I use it, I feel like I am praying to someone I know well, someone who is literally my Father, my family. Also, as a literature major, I'm comfortable with 17th Century English.
However, not everyone likes to pray that way. Many prefer to use the same language they use in everyday life, rather than a form that hasn't been used in English for over 300 years. And they have every right to pray in whatever way is comfortable for them. I'm confident our Father in Heaven doesn't care in the least which form, formal or familiar, of the 2nd person pronoun we use when we address Him. He really just wants to hear from us. All over the scriptures, we are called to counsel with Him, to seek Him out at all times and in all situations. That is what matters.
So let's take care not to tell others that they need to say "thou and thee" when they pray because it's more reverent and respectful.
Cuz it isn't. It just isn't.
Instead, let us encourage others to use whichever words they prefer, as they seek out our Father in Heaven in sincere prayer, whether privately or in a group setting.
May we welcome everyone (and everyone's prayers) because as President Uchtdorf taught, "There is room for you in this church."
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Hair
About 10 years ago, in our ward in Billings, Montana, the Young Men's organization had a fundraiser that involved hair cutting. They solicited donations from ward members in exchange for the boys getting their hair cut. I can't remember what the goal of the fundraising was, but I assume they were donating their proceeds to charity? Sorry, like I said, it was 10 years ago.
Isaiah and Eli were 15 and 13, respectively, at the time so both involved in this activity. It was voluntary. They didn't have to do it. But good sports that they were, both decided to jump in and raise money. We had a hairstylist in our ward, who volunteered her time to the cause. My feeling about the whole thing? Indifference. Because here's the thing about hair: It always grows back. So why not participate?
The hairstylist cut all the boys' hair in a similar style, short, like a traditional "missionary" cut. I winced a little as I watch my boys' beautiful hair fall to the ground, but quickly reminded myself of the above: Hair always grows back. When all the boys were finished, their Young Men's President exclaimed, "This is excellent! Now you boys look like the worthy Priesthood holders you are!"
Dang.
Let me just say that I really, really liked this guy. I still do, actually, though we moved from Montana five years ago, so I no longer have contact with him. He was a good guy and a dedicated leader, doing his best to serve well in his calling. But somewhere along the line, he had embraced an idea that tends to permeate through our Church, the idea that short hair is in some way better than long hair on boys and men, and further, that the clean-shaven look is better than facial hair. That somehow, boys and men with short hair and no beards are more righteous, more spiritual, more obedient, more worthy, and better equipped to exercise their Priesthood responsibilities.
My instant reaction was to jump up and disagree. I didn't. I was sitting by a friend, who also happened to have two boys in the program. She touched my arm and quietly said, "Relax. Breathe. It's okay." And it was. My boys weren't damaged in any way by their leader's remark, and I will ever be grateful to Lisa for her calming words. However, it was important to me that my sons understood that this leader's opinion was not church doctrine. It was only his opinion. It was critical to me that they understood that their own father, who happened to have longish hair and a full beard, was in every way worthy, and no less righteous or spiritual or obedient or well equipped to hold the Priesthood than anyone else.
So I'll bet you can guess the topic of our conversation on the way home that night.
That was 10 years ago, and still, in 2016, this bias against long hair and beards persists. In a struggle to figure out why and where it originated, I've looked back to the history of the Church, combined with the culture of our country. My best guess is that in the turmoil of the 1960s, long hair and beards represented rebellion, the hippie movement, even the drug culture. Perhaps in order to oppose those elements, the Church moved in the opposite direction? David O. McKay was the first President of the Church to be clean-shaven, and yes, he was the Prophet all through the 60s until he died in 1970.
It's making more sense now. What I can't figure out is why this is still a "thing" today, a full 50 years later. Many Church members still feel that short hair and the clean-shaven look is best. And not just more attractive (because that is, of course, purely a matter of opinion), but honestly more righteous. I teach at a Church college, where beards and long hair on male students are prohibited, and "beard control" is hands down the most discussed honor code issue of all, even above things like honesty and plagiarism. It's definitely still a "thing."
I won't attempt to change the rules at the Church institutions, colleges, etc. I figure if you don't wish to follow the code, go to a different school. Two of my sons did exactly that. However, in our regular stakes and wards, we must work toward ending the bias that exists regarding this issue. How can we welcome others as the Savior would if we don't? There is absolutely nothing more righteous about a short haircut or a clean-shaven face. Absolutely nothing.
May we stop pretending there is because as President Uchtdorf taught: "There is room for you [everyone] in this Church."
Isaiah and Eli were 15 and 13, respectively, at the time so both involved in this activity. It was voluntary. They didn't have to do it. But good sports that they were, both decided to jump in and raise money. We had a hairstylist in our ward, who volunteered her time to the cause. My feeling about the whole thing? Indifference. Because here's the thing about hair: It always grows back. So why not participate?
The hairstylist cut all the boys' hair in a similar style, short, like a traditional "missionary" cut. I winced a little as I watch my boys' beautiful hair fall to the ground, but quickly reminded myself of the above: Hair always grows back. When all the boys were finished, their Young Men's President exclaimed, "This is excellent! Now you boys look like the worthy Priesthood holders you are!"
Dang.
Let me just say that I really, really liked this guy. I still do, actually, though we moved from Montana five years ago, so I no longer have contact with him. He was a good guy and a dedicated leader, doing his best to serve well in his calling. But somewhere along the line, he had embraced an idea that tends to permeate through our Church, the idea that short hair is in some way better than long hair on boys and men, and further, that the clean-shaven look is better than facial hair. That somehow, boys and men with short hair and no beards are more righteous, more spiritual, more obedient, more worthy, and better equipped to exercise their Priesthood responsibilities.
My instant reaction was to jump up and disagree. I didn't. I was sitting by a friend, who also happened to have two boys in the program. She touched my arm and quietly said, "Relax. Breathe. It's okay." And it was. My boys weren't damaged in any way by their leader's remark, and I will ever be grateful to Lisa for her calming words. However, it was important to me that my sons understood that this leader's opinion was not church doctrine. It was only his opinion. It was critical to me that they understood that their own father, who happened to have longish hair and a full beard, was in every way worthy, and no less righteous or spiritual or obedient or well equipped to hold the Priesthood than anyone else.
So I'll bet you can guess the topic of our conversation on the way home that night.
That was 10 years ago, and still, in 2016, this bias against long hair and beards persists. In a struggle to figure out why and where it originated, I've looked back to the history of the Church, combined with the culture of our country. My best guess is that in the turmoil of the 1960s, long hair and beards represented rebellion, the hippie movement, even the drug culture. Perhaps in order to oppose those elements, the Church moved in the opposite direction? David O. McKay was the first President of the Church to be clean-shaven, and yes, he was the Prophet all through the 60s until he died in 1970.
It's making more sense now. What I can't figure out is why this is still a "thing" today, a full 50 years later. Many Church members still feel that short hair and the clean-shaven look is best. And not just more attractive (because that is, of course, purely a matter of opinion), but honestly more righteous. I teach at a Church college, where beards and long hair on male students are prohibited, and "beard control" is hands down the most discussed honor code issue of all, even above things like honesty and plagiarism. It's definitely still a "thing."
I won't attempt to change the rules at the Church institutions, colleges, etc. I figure if you don't wish to follow the code, go to a different school. Two of my sons did exactly that. However, in our regular stakes and wards, we must work toward ending the bias that exists regarding this issue. How can we welcome others as the Savior would if we don't? There is absolutely nothing more righteous about a short haircut or a clean-shaven face. Absolutely nothing.
May we stop pretending there is because as President Uchtdorf taught: "There is room for you [everyone] in this Church."
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Introduction to "There is room for you"
I never thought I'd start a second blog. But then I never thought my first one would have the readership it does. My original goal nine years ago was to do two things: (1) preserve some family history without keeping a boring journal and (2) provide myself an outlet to write. Writing is therapy for me and decidedly cheaper than a psychiatrist. But after nine years, the whole blog thing has become so much more. Yes, in many ways it's your typical "Mommy blog," that highlights the events of my family, and yes, it successfully provides me an outlet to write. But I would have never predicted how many people would read it. I'm still shocked, actually, by the number of page views I get and thrilled when someone I barely know approaches me and tells me how much he or she liked a particular post. For someone with a skill set as woefully limited as mine, it's gratifying to be able to serve in this way. Highly so.
That said, I find myself wanting to write more about church-related topics, and I'm not sure such topics belong in "itslegs." Many of my "itslegs" readers are not LDS, or any religion necessarily. Several times I've found myself writing, "Disclaimer. This one is going to be churchy. If church isn't your deal, maybe skip this one and come back next time. I won't be mad." This new blog is my attempt to avoid that. I have no idea if it will even catch on, but I find I have much to say, so I've decided to just jump in and write. If no one reads it, that's okay.
The title of this new blog comes from a talk by one of my favorite apostles, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf. I'm not alone in my feelings about him. I once read a lighthearted definition of President Uchtdorf: "Silver-haired apostle who has all of the women of the church twitterpated and most of the men as well." Indeed!
In the October 2013 General Conference, President Uchtdorf gave a talk titled "Come, Join with Us." In it he says, "Regardless of your circumstances, your personal history, or the strength of your testimony, there is room for you in this Church." I love that. Really, I do. As an adult convert, and someone who occasionally feels baffled by the cultural elements that permeate our religion despite my powerful and unwavering testimony of its doctrine, I loved hearing President Uchtdorf declare that there is room for me! Me (!) a liberal Democrat who doesn't cook, sew, or do crafts; an earthy mom who breastfeeds her kids through toddlerhood and who has a different last name than her husband. There is room for me! President Uchtdorf said so, and I believe him.
So join me if you like as we explore some of the cultural idiosyncrasies of our wonderful church, that together we may strive to follow the counsel of President Uchtdorf and welcome everyone, because "there is room for you in this Church."
That said, I find myself wanting to write more about church-related topics, and I'm not sure such topics belong in "itslegs." Many of my "itslegs" readers are not LDS, or any religion necessarily. Several times I've found myself writing, "Disclaimer. This one is going to be churchy. If church isn't your deal, maybe skip this one and come back next time. I won't be mad." This new blog is my attempt to avoid that. I have no idea if it will even catch on, but I find I have much to say, so I've decided to just jump in and write. If no one reads it, that's okay.
The title of this new blog comes from a talk by one of my favorite apostles, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf. I'm not alone in my feelings about him. I once read a lighthearted definition of President Uchtdorf: "Silver-haired apostle who has all of the women of the church twitterpated and most of the men as well." Indeed!
In the October 2013 General Conference, President Uchtdorf gave a talk titled "Come, Join with Us." In it he says, "Regardless of your circumstances, your personal history, or the strength of your testimony, there is room for you in this Church." I love that. Really, I do. As an adult convert, and someone who occasionally feels baffled by the cultural elements that permeate our religion despite my powerful and unwavering testimony of its doctrine, I loved hearing President Uchtdorf declare that there is room for me! Me (!) a liberal Democrat who doesn't cook, sew, or do crafts; an earthy mom who breastfeeds her kids through toddlerhood and who has a different last name than her husband. There is room for me! President Uchtdorf said so, and I believe him.
So join me if you like as we explore some of the cultural idiosyncrasies of our wonderful church, that together we may strive to follow the counsel of President Uchtdorf and welcome everyone, because "there is room for you in this Church."
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