A Call For Simple-Minded Mormons To Repent

A family member just shared with me today a public Facebook post by a man named Dustin Sweeten that starts with the words "come on members of the LDS church, be honest..." followed by how this rift in the Mormon family is all about following a prophet of God or not:

I'll be honest. I have a strong testimony and conviction of Jesus Christ. But I also have a testimony of the fact that He doesn't control men like puppets (even prophets). He works with what He's got, but we all have our own bias', including prophets (who aren't infallible). They can and do make mistakes, including boneheaded decisions and policies that hurt real people, because that's what it means to be fallible.

Our loyalty ultimately is to God, not to men. And if you see no difference between God and prophets, then that is the epitome of idoltry. And it's time time for you to repent.

PS: If Dustin Sweeten (or anyone else who applauded his words) reads this, please just skip everything I said and watch this short Brene Brown video to understand the difference between empathy and sympathy. Christians in deed (as opposed to just word) show empathy. Showing love is more important than establishing your dogma.

LDS General Conference Is Great...Except For The Bad Parts

A metaphor for the Church itself?

Most Mormons view General Conference as quite a treat--I generally do. It's a special treat to stay home and watch conference in my pajamas on my comfortable leather couch. It's also a treat to spend uninterrupted hours with my family while seeking goodness, truth, and inspiration. For me personally, that goodness and inspiration comes most often in the form of the music we hear in General Conference. My experience has been that General Conference music is routinely exceptional--sometimes even supernal (a word sometimes used in conjunction with General Conference.) And from time to time there are a few talks that even reach that point for me. For example, these four from our last General Conference:

• The Music of the Gospel
• On Being Genuine
• Returning to Faith
• The Gift of Grace

Of the latter I could hardly wait to blog about how it was itself a grace to me, like an oasis in the desert. I'm well aware, however, that since we all bring different background knowledge, experience, and even different lenses with us to General Conference, a "great" message to one can fall flat for another. This was brought home to me recently when my brother shared a talk he liked from that same conference in our family group text--Which Way Do You Face?. I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer, but my first instinct was to cringe and think of the Mormonad above. I decided, in the interest of fairness, I should re-read the talk to give it a second chance. There was, indeed, more relatively good stuff than I had remembered. My memory had only held onto the parts that had caused me concern. More on this in a minute.

First a disclaimer. I know most people aren't accustomed to watching General Conference like a film critic watches a movie, but it's a natural occupational hazard for those of us who've undergone a faith transition/transformation. I like the term "transformation" because I think of the metaphor of the caterpillar in its cocoon. The transformation can initially feel dark and lonely but like a butterfly, my personal faith came out on the other end more nuanced, colorful, and even beautiful. I admit it can be frustrating at times still when I encounter those who think I should act more like a caterpillar than the butterfly that's since taken flight.

I still use both my "mind and heart" in order to discern inspiration amongst the hours we spend in the buffet of messages known as General Conference. It's just that I can't quite bring myself to share in the same joy expressed by others who view everything in General Conference as "modern day revelation." My standard for "revelation" is much higher than that, and I would argue that Joseph Smith set the bar pretty high by publishing his revelations for all the world to see. Of course, one could claim that the LDS Church publishes the Ensign magazine for all the world to see, but what I clearly see is a huge difference between the revelations published in the Standard Works and what's published in the Ensign. Considering how little we Latter-day Saints have added to our "open" cannon since Joseph's day (at least the Brighamite branch of the Restoration movement), perhaps the "revelation" bar is too high for today's "prophets, seers, and revelators."

That's not to say that I can't enjoy goodness and inspiration in General Conference. It's just harder when I can't automatically take it all in as equally inspired. There's a lot of "good" in my church sundae, to be sure. But there's some very conspicuous "bad" that I cannot simply ignore.

As I follow the dictates of my conscience, I choose to magnify my individual responsibility to discern if what I'm hearing over the pulpit at any given time actually represents the mind and will of God. It's not an easy job, and naturally it's a subjective process, but all religion is subjective--all of it. And religion isn't supposed to be easy. It's supposed to challenge us, change us, and transform us into more compassionate beings--not passive sheep.

Neither am I passive while watching General Conference. Sometimes there are sermons meant to challenge us, and sometimes there are sermons that ought to be challenged. And as I read over the sermon my brother had recommended I found things that indeed resonated with me and that I generally found inspiring. This quote, for example, was great and still resonates with me: "Trying to please others before pleasing God is inverting the first and second great commandments." That's great advice to put God first over other men/women, and I include in that even institutions such as the LDS Church.

But I also found some things that caused me concern. The first cringe moment came in the form of a quote by the late Boyd K. Packer: “A Seventy does not represent the people to the prophet but the prophet to the people. Never forget which way you face!” This viewpoint is one of a top-down-only hierarchy--a viewpoint which happens to be one of the things I least like about the current institutional church. That top-down-only attitude completely misses an opportunity to have good counsel between everybody else not already in the leadership-hierarchy flow chart. It also contradicts the way things are supposed to work at the local level in terms of ward and stake councils.

But I had stronger reservations with this part: "Thinking one can please God and at the same time condone the disobedience of men isn’t neutrality but duplicity, or being two-faced or trying to “serve two masters” (Matthew 6:24; 3 Nephi 13:24). The obsession with making clear what you condemn or condone in others gets in the way of true compassion, and I believe that can be sin in and of itself. I don't accept the false dichotomy that you're either "for us or against us", the conflation of prophets with God (implied throughout), and also the preoccupation with righteousness and purity.

While Mormons traditionally place much emphasis on righteousness and purity, Jesus himself was historically subversive to the righteousness/purity system of the contemporary religious establishment. I saw this very clearly while reading Marcus Borg's Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the Heart of Contemporary Faith. "Compassion, not holiness, is the dominant quality of God, and is therefore to be the ethos of the community that mirrors God" (Borg, p. 54.) In other words, "an interpretation of scripture faithful to Jesus and the early Christian movement sees the Bible through the lens of compassion, not purity." Borg uses a specific example on page 59:

I am convinced that much of the strongly negative attitude toward homosexuality on the part of some Christians has arisen because, in addition to whatever nonreligious homophobic reasons may be involved, homosexuality is seen (often unconsciously) as a purity issue. For these Christians, there's something "dirty" about it, boundaries are being crossed, things are being put together that do not belong together, and so forth. Indeed, homosexuality was a purity issue in ancient Judaism. The prohibition against it is found in the purity laws of the book of Leviticus. 

It seems to me that the shattering of purity boundaries by both Jesus and Paul should also apply to the purity code's perception of homosexuality. Homosexual behavior should therefore be evaluated by the same criteria as heterosexual behavior. It also seems to me that the passage [Galatians 3:28] in which Paul negates the other central polarities of his world also means, "In Christ, there is neither straight nor gay." Granted, Paul didn't say that, but the logic of "life in the spirit" and the ethos of compassion imply it.

When I watch General Conference now, I can't help but take issue with various "purity" interpretations. For example, from the same talk my brother sent: "Lowering the Lord’s standards to the level of a society’s inappropriate behavior is—apostasy." 

Let me be clear: I have no problem accepting that the Lord has standards that are unchanging and wise. However, our human understanding of the Lord's standards is imperfect and is always filtered through a human brain. History teaches that we've been wrong about His will before. And history doesn't hide the fact that sometimes regular Mormons have greater insight into truth than those sustained as "prophets, seers, and revelators." [See here and especially here, for example.] Our understanding of the Lord's will and His standards constantly evolve and change as we receive greater light and knowledge. And hopefully our moral conscience continues to evolve.

Elder Robbins also makes his own definition of apostasy, and my personal concern is that his statement of what constitutes "apostasy" will be used as ammunition to expel dissenters like me from the body of Christ, not to mention if it even aligns with the explanation of apostasy given recently by the First Presidency of the Church.

Last point of concern: "When others demand approval in defiance of God’s commandments, may we always remember whose disciples we are."

The problem for me isn't forgetting that I'm first and foremost a disciple of Christ/God; the problem is that "God's commandments" have always been interpreted and declared by imperfect human filters, and fallible men often misinterpret/mistake the Divine will. I remember like it was yesterday a General Conference five years ago where I surprised myself by reflexively shouting "That's not right!" as soon as President Packer shared a personal opinion about how homosexuality fit into God's plan. His talk was edited by the time it came out in the print version a few days later.

It's my opinion (and I'm entitled to my own opinion) that just as the Church now "disavows the theories advanced in the past" (such as that interracial marriage was a sin, which was declared to be "doctrine" according to some general authorities in the not too distant past), I personally believe there will come a day when the future Church disavows current teachings that being a happily married gay person was a "sin." Of all people, Mormons with a messy polygamous past probably shouldn't be painting with such a broad brush as though we've figured out the full picture clearly.

I love the Brethren, but I disagree that there are no acceptable ways to act on one's homosexuality without it being inherently sinful. My love for the Brethren is not conditional based on whether I agree or disagree with them about homosexuality. I think Mormons who believe that the Church's current stance is "right" deserve for me to show them true love and compassion, regardless of the fact that I disagree with the Church's current stance. It's easier to love people who think like you. But that's why I personally think I need the Church in my life, not because I always think alike, but because I need to learn to love people who are radically different than me.

Of course, ultimately we're all more alike than we are different, whether in or out of the Church. People historically have killed each other over believing the "right" dogma or over behavior deemed "inappropriate" in God's eyes. That's a shame. I believe we mustn't let dogma get in the way of love. Compassion must always come first. Love can be the bridge between people who disagree on dogma (and is preferable than killing, shaming, or even excommunicating people over differences in belief.)

In the mean time, drawing these artificial lines in the sand causes real pain and harm. I believe it to be imperative that we be more focused on inclusiveness and compassion over righteousness and exclusivity. Our differences in belief don't need to matter when we focus on loving each other through Christ's compassionate lens. I hope we can all agree that Christ's main message is one of love and compassion rather than judging others according to our church's current standard of "sin."

Because I believe, with Richard Poll, "that everyone, including Paul and other prophets, sees eternity 'through a glass darkly' (l Cor. 13:12), prophetic infallibility, scriptural inerrancy and unquestioning obedience are not elements of my faith." And that's why I approach General Conference the way I do. If one were to just assume that what we're hearing in General Conference automatically represents the mind and will of God, one is primed to be led astray. Despite frequent assurances that Mormon prophets can't lead us astray, history proves that myth wrong. The scriptures themselves prove the myth of infallibility wrong, yet in spite of common sense, many Mormons continue to imply infallibility without even realizing it--with very striking consequences. Our shared fallibility makes embracing compassion and grace all the more important.

So yes, church really is great, except for the bad parts. We can't expect perfection when the church is made up entirely of human beings. We need to be supportive of each other, especially in our weakness. Last spring I participated in a podcast interview about my current faith and some of the difficulties I face within the institutional church. (If you're interested in listening, my segment's in part one of episode 096: Hard to Stay – Harder to Leave and begins at the 29:10 minute mark.) A friend of mine who found the "A Thoughtful Faith" podcast valuable transcribed a quote of mine. I thought I'd include it here for any who may question why I remain in the LDS Church feeling the way I do:

There is something to be said of community. I want to stay in the church because it is a support community of people trying to seek Christ. Not because it’s perfect, because it’s not. And not because it has all the truth, because it doesn’t. But because it can be a good support network to people who are trying to love each other and follow Christ. As long as that’s the case, it’s great. 

But when it starts to get an unhealthy over-emphasis on "follow the prophet, follow the prophet" and all this other business like gender inequality (that frustrates me and I wish we'd change quicker), then that makes it harder to stay. Especially I have hope on the LGBT issue that the church will one day wake up and realize: "Hey, the gospel includes everybody, the gospel is for everybody. Our church though--our policies--are keeping people away. And we're going to continue to lose people and the church might just hollow out unless it adapts. But history gives me hope that it will adapt. It's just sometimes slow to adapt." [ends at 52:48] 

Unapologetically I embrace whatever is good and I reject whatever causes harm. Mormonism is a sausage makers religion and we each choose for ourselves what speaks to our conscience and what violates our conscience. Whether in this church, another church, or no church at all--the bottom line is all the same. The bottom line is learning to love everyone (even those radically different than ourselves) and serve and do some good. I find that in this church. It may not always be comfortable, but I'm still onboard.

Brigham Young once famously said of a great valley with a few bad parts: "This is the right place. Drive on.” That pretty much sums up how I currently feel about my membership in the institutional church. I particularly love how Sharon Eubank put it last year:

The right place doesn’t mean there is not going to be blinding salt flats and black crickets and all kinds of naysayers and killing frosts and all of those things. But it is still the right place. And I also think we ought to be probably driving on. Rolling up our sleeves and doing the thing that our doctrine allows us to do which is to say: Everybody is valuable. Everybody has unique individual gifts. The Lord’s plan allows for everybody to use their gifts. I can be respectful. I have responsibility to do it and I’m going to roll up my sleeves and go to work.

The Church's Cardinal Sin of Blasphemy/Idolatry

There's a well-known Book of Mormon story in which a humble prophet named Abinadi engages alone in a hostile exchange with the corrupt, rich, and powerful institution consisting of King Noah and the religious leaders of his time (Noah's priest's.)  They thought that if Abinadi were a true prophet he'd bring the "glad tidings" that "all is well in Zion" so they could continue to congratulate themselves on the church/culture they had managed to establish for themselves.

But the true "glad tidings" happen to be that because of Jesus Christ we can repent! The grace of Christ--even if suffering must be endured to receive it--truly is amazing! Naturally, those who don't think they have anything of which to repent won't find this message to be one of "glad tidings." It's more likely they'd see the outspoken man crying repentance as being "overly critical" and negative. Far better to simply silence the voice and cast him out--his reputation burned--so they can continue on with their merry lives and the status quo.

Fortunately, the Book of Mormon was meant for our day and should be likened unto ourselves. For those with eyes to see and ears to hear, the true message of repentance is like a breath of fresh air. But when the simple suggestion that even an apostle can be "wrong" is met with a reaction of "blasphemy," our mortal servant leaders have indeed been elevated into the realm of idolatry. And if we're to learn anything from Abinadi (who didn't escape from his predicament alive), let it be this: Grace is our only hope for escape from this and many of our other problems too.

*blas·phe·my
noun
the act or offense of speaking sacrilegiously about God or sacred things; profane talk.
"he was detained on charges of blasphemy"

When the top brass of an institution become too sacred to question, the corporate culture stinks. Yet, to many lay members of the church, the fifteen mortal men running the institutional church have apparently become a sacred cow--"above criticism."

*sa·cred cow
noun
an idea, custom, or institution held, especially unreasonably, to be above criticism (with reference to the Hindus' respect for the cow as a sacred animal)

At the beginning of his excellent post, "Living with Fallibility", James Faulconer (a Richard L. Evans Professor of Religious Understanding at Brigham Young University and BYU philosophy professor) wrote about how "Mormons have a joke that is so old it has become a cliché: Catholic doctrine is that the pope is infallible, but they don't believe it; Mormon doctrine is that the prophet is fallible, but they don't believe it." The joke works because there's truth to it.

*fal·li·ble
adjective
capable of making mistakes or being erroneous.
"experts can be fallible"

(synonyms: error-prone, errant, liable to err, open to error;
imperfect, flawed, weak)

*in·fal·li·ble
adjective
incapable of making mistakes or being wrong.
"doctors are not infallible"
"an infallible sense of timing"
never failing; always effective

(synonyms: unerring, unfailing, faultless, flawless, impeccable, perfect, precise, accurate, meticulous, scrupulous)

We cannot have it both ways. We can't reluctantly acknowledge fallibility yet act as though we should expect infallibility. We can't acknowledge God uses the "weak" things of the earth to do His work (so that we'll put our faith in Him), but continue to act as though we can place our faith in "strong" mortal leaders. These words actually mean something. Unless we invent our own definitions, these ideas are not harmonious. Faulconer goes on to observe that the way Latter-day Saints have traditionally taught about their prophet-leaders has led many to believe in false assumptions that in turn have led to tragic consequences. Sadly, I see those tragic consequences every day. I cannot in good conscience bring myself to look away and ignore them.

Faulconer expresses my own feelings when he shares hope that the new church essays may signify an important change in strategy and gives "hope that they will help Latter-day Saints rethink what it means to recognize authority and to have a living prophet." The blunt problem is, the majority of people don't read the essays, and many of those that do don't allow what they read to change the status quo of their thinking or simply fail to grasp the implications. Notable internet exceptions, notwithstanding (thank you Julie Smith). Faulconer writes:

We have often been guilty of a kind of idolatry of our leaders, implicitly imputing the characteristics of God to them because we thought that is what it meant to be called by God. To my knowledge few of our leaders asked for our idolatry, but we fell into it anyway. Perhaps our new strategy will help us repent.

I can truthfully say that recent interactions with fellow Mormons (online and in person) have convinced me that most Mormons haven't even recognized the need to repent. Many apparently see nothing wrong with this idolatry, nor with the status quo. I sincerely appreciate Jim's thoughtful analysis and feel the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would be better off by taking it seriously. But I also feel a sense of chagrin because his voice and others like him will largely go unnoticed. It doesn't appear that we're collectively anxious to rethink and repent.

Tradition resists change. From the lay member who thinks "all is well" to those hard at work at Church headquarters, to the apostle who declares essentially the same thing in general conference ("all is well"/"the Church has never been stronger!") it is clear that not everyone is on the same page with "the new strategy of making our story public even when we find it difficult to explain [to] help prevent the kinds of pain we see some people suffering now", as Faulconer writes.

I submit that if we're okay with Latter-day Saints believing in prophetic infallibility, we should continue to teach that our leaders cannot lead us astray and continue to print Ensign messages and sing primary songs about following the prophet as though that's a sure and safe infallible standard. Until Mormons are collectively ready to face the hard reality and own the actual historical record, we have an uphill battle to help Latter-day Saints rethink and repent.

It would be to our advantage to truly and thoroughly embrace the good news and the bad news of prophetic fallibility, sooner rather than later. Only then can we recognize what Faulconer so eloquently stated:

My hope is that the conversations the recently published materials create will help us learn that being called by God isn't an either/or. It isn't that either the person is called by God and never makes a mistake in their calling or he isn't called by God at all. I hope we will begin to see the falsity of that dichotomy, that we will develop a more mature understanding of our relationship to those who lead us, one in which we neither idolize the prophets nor assume that their humanity means we ought to no longer follow them.

In light of this more "mature understanding", how should we "follow them?" Knowing what we now know about their past track record, how should we "trust" them in the present?  What should it mean to "trust" them in light of our "mature understanding?" We can start by recognizing that priesthood keys do not equate to any degree of holiness or infallibilty. We can still trust our prophet-leaders to be called of God and to receive inspiration in their calling. We can trust them to put our best interests at the forefront, and to even be prophets of God at the rare times when God actually does speak through them as opposed to the times when they simply give us good counsel. But we're not trusting them to be perfect. We're not trusting them to never make mistakes or to not be "wrong." Therefore, we should probably stop acting like they can't. We ought to repent of that notion--that idol of infallible leadership.

It takes hard work to follow prophets because you have to seek personal revelation/inspiration to discern when a prophet is acting as a prophet. Contrary to popular belief, the President of the Church is the president 24/7, but he becomes prophetic only when he becomes prophetic. "Prophet" is not an office--it's a gift. Regardless of whether or not those gifts are exhibited, we sustain 15 men and designate them as the only "prophets" for the entire church. We've become accustomed to constantly referring to Church presidents as "the prophet", and perhaps the semantics have unintentionally contributed to the idolatry. Conflating all-important obedience to principles with unquestioning obedience to persons will also likely lead to idolatry, among many more tragic consequences.

Adam Miller has done an admirable job trying to help us rethink what it means to recognize authority and to have a living prophet and to repent of our idolatry. But how many members of the Church have even heard of Adam Miller? It's nice that the Maxwell Institute has published his work, but the way the Ensign recycled an old CES message and added "Follow the Prophets" as a title to it for the First Presidency January 2015 edition convinces me we still have a ways to go. (It's hard not to sound condescending here, but many unthinking people will continue to see nothing wrong with this, because hey, isn't the Ensign also infallible?!)

Adam Miller:

It's a false dilemma to claim that either God works through flawless people or God doesn't work at all. The gospel isn't a celebration of God's power to work with flawless people. The gospel is a celebration of God's willingness to work today, in our world, in our lives, with people who clearly aren't. To demand that church leaders, past or present, show us only a mask of angelic pseudo-perfection is to deny the gospel's most basic claim: that God's grace works through our weakness. We need prophets, not idols. Our prophets and leaders will not turn out to be who you want them to be. They are not, in fact, even what God might want them to be. But they are real and God really can, nonetheless, work through their imperfections to extend his perfect love.

If the gospel is about God's perfect love (and it is), particularly embodied in Jesus Christ, why in the world do we insist on making this into the church of the prophets? Wasn't Abinadi's point to get the priests to look past the prophets themselves and to land their sights squarely on Christ and His atonement? It has always been so easy for God’s people to misread the scriptures and focus on the lesser law/lesser things. Prophets (like Abinadi who in turn quotes Isaiah to make the point even more explicit) give their lives to get us to remember the central focus of the scriptures is the atonement of Christ--not the authority of the religious leaders!

How we have allowed ourselves to go down this "authority" path so long as though it were so literally essential is beyond me. It completely misses the boat to make the main message about the boat, or the crew of the boat. Rather, the main message should be God's perfect love, because God is love, and love fulfills all the laws and the prophets. Since only God is perfect, we can trust the prophet to do his best to seek God's will, but not to never be wrong. Maybe we should have an Ensign message about that.

If I were in charge (thank goodness I'm not!) I'd put a stop to the practice of standing in reverence while leaders enter the room. Even things intended to be respectful can unintentionally be taken too far. But since I'm not in charge (fortunately) I suppose I should just be glad that at least we're not bowing down on the ground before them. Hugh Nibley once wrote: "It is quite inconceivable that the gospel should ever be under condemnation, though the Church has been from time to time. They are not the same thing. The one is a teaching; the other, an organization to foster that teaching."

I have serious reservations about the way the church organization presently fosters gospel teachings. Gospel teachings of following Christ are too frequently substituted for messages of following prophets. I'm not a betting man, but I'd be willing to wager we're still under condemnation. Too many Saints have trouble even making a distinction between the church and the gospel. And too many ecclesiastical leaders have trouble making a distinction between an actual "apostate" and a concerned disciple who prioritizes placing their faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ over their faith in a church organization.

We've allowed ourselves to turn the 24/7 office of "President of the Church" into a synonym for "prophet", even though Joseph Smith taught that "a prophet is only a prophet when acting as such." One could be forgiven for wondering whether the Latter-day Saints have indeed placed an additional mediator between us and God. At times it seems as though it's not enough to follow the Savior--the Mediator between us and the Father. Apparently it's becoming expected that we now make "the prophet" into a mediator between us and the Mediator. We must repent of this idolatry--this cardinal sin of blasphemy.

On the one hand we have these wonderfully nuanced essays that should cause us to re-evaluate our paradigms of what to expect--and what not to expect--from prophets, helping us to "see that prophets don't usually get definitive answers to their questions, and even when the answer is definitive, they don't often, if ever, get definitive directions for how to put into practice what they have been told." On the other hand there are some who clearly want to double down on the old paradigm. How long shall we halt between the two? We can't acknowledge in our historical essays that even our prophet-leaders can be seriously wrong and then continue to spread the message in the Ensign that you don't need to think for yourself, but just do what you're told and you'll be "safe."

This life wasn't meant to be safe--it comes with great risk. Life wasn't meant to be easy, as though God were a GPS system telling us how to avoid the pitfalls and the detours. He doesn't even do that with prophets. He gives them the keys and then trusts them to get the church to safety in one piece without taking over the steering wheel. Every once in awhile the prophets take longer-than-necessary detours or swerve so hard some are made to feel like throwing up. But we're in it for the experience. And we learn most from the hard experiences. If we're wise we'll learn from our mistakes in order to make the trip better in the future. We won't deny nor condemn others for their mistakes, rather we're to "give thanks unto God that he hath made manifest" to us those mistakes and imperfections, so "that [we] may learn to be more wise than [others] have been" (Mormon 9:31.)

While it's not my place to grab the steering wheel (not even God coerces the driver), I still have a responsibility to love and help the driver as best I can. I believe our prophet-leaders are entitled to our sympathy, our support, and our suggestions. We're not lemmings just along for the ride. We're free agents. It would be easier to just sit back and trust the authorities. But we've seen what happens when we go down that path. (And that path starts looking a lot more like Satan's plan than God's plan.)

The easy path is to let someone else do all the thinking for you. It's harder to follow prophets when you have to seek revelation/inspiration for yourself to discern when a prophet is acting as a prophet, discerning if the counsel is inspired and/or applies to your circumstances. If all we do is tell people to sit down and shut up in the proverbial boat, we're no longer expecting people to exercise freedom of the mind and think for themselves, seeking their own spiritual confirmation. Or is the expectation to be told what to do, just obey, and get in line and don't rock the boat? If so, Hugh B. Brown is probably rolling in his grave.

Obviously there's an extreme line somewhere that I wouldn't want to cross in becoming that annoying back-seat driver. I want to always remain loving and respectful, but I feel I have a duty to alert the driver of dangers I may see out my window, especially if the drivers attention is so focused on the road ahead that he doesn't see what the passengers in the back seat may see. Of course it would be extreme if all someone did was ride along in order to criticize your driving. But there's another extreme of actually having an insight that might help the driver out but failing to speak up because of fear it's not your place. And it would be an extreme driver indeed that was too stubborn to listen to suggestions. I believe in trying to navigate the healthy middle ground between the extremes.

Likewise, I sustain the President of the Church. If you don't like the transportation analogies, perhaps you like a musical analogy. The president is like the head violinist in the orchestra. We all have our notes to play but he's in an important seat. I don't pretend he can't flub a note, and I have no desire to constantly criticize, especially when I'm struggling to focus on my own music. I desire for all to feel welcome in the orchestra and to make unique contributions, even in our imperfections. Orchestra's are better when their leadership isn't above receiving feedback from the rest of us. Healthy organizations designate appropriate time and space for feedback (not just conducting occasional surveys) so people can be heard. One place the church might start with is adding a suggestions box somewhere at each stake center, and perhaps at church headquarters too. My first suggestion would be to stop pretending the institutional church can never be "wrong" and thus above sincere apologies.

In my post "On Being Seasick While Staying in the Boat", I write that I don't personally stay onboard this ship because of the crew, and I get very seasick when the voyage is made to feel more about our loyalty to men than our loyalty to Christ:

Joseph Smith once said the people were depending too much on the prophet and "hence were darkened in their minds". Notwithstanding, before long emphasis/focus began to be placed on following the mortal church leaders even more than on following the perfect Savior. Maybe there's a healthy and mindful balance, but I'm pretty sure we're out of balance when it's assumed that by following certain mortals in certain church callings we're automatically following Christ. Autopilot substitution of the former for the latter creates an idol, and some Latter-day Saints turn our prophets into idols without even realizing it. Is it any wonder some of us are getting nauseous? The scriptures warn about trusting in "the arm of the flesh," yet how many equate "trusting LDS priesthood authority" with "trusting God?" 

I can trust that God is perfect, but my trust in prophets is different. I can trust the prophet to have inspiration when acting as a prophet, and I can trust that prophets are doing the best they can in their unique stewardship and have our best interests at heart. But I'm not trusting them to be infallible. The pseudo-doctrine that prophets "can't lead us astray" exists in tension with their expressed fallibility and leads some to mistakenly believe that prophets are perfect in the administration of the things of God. I get seasick when we oversell expectations for prophets, even to the point that some Mormons forget that it's not the (false) fourteen fundamentals of following the prophet that constitute the fundamental principles of our religion, but rather the atonement of Christ.

This isn't to say that I don't respect the crew. They have a unique job and it's not an easy one. I love and sustain them. But I'm not on board because of the crew. Moreover, if the fundamental principle of our religion is the atonement of Jesus Christ, then it's definitely not fundamental that I agree with or even like everything coming from the crew, regardless of how many times I'm told they won't lead the boat "astray". It puzzles me how often that word is used, and yet I'm not convinced we're all on the same page as to what "astray" is even supposed to mean. Some assume this is a "promise" that the ship will never be guided wrong, and some assume it was the Lord who made such a "promise" in the first place. It's clear that we need to work through some tensions that inevitably come from living with fallibility.

If I'm not on board this particular ship because of the crew, can we please stop hearing so many messages about the crew? Can we please hear more messages about Jesus Christ? Other boats do this quite well. If we're humble, perhaps we could learn a thing or two from them. If we even paid more attention to our own history we could learn a thing or two:

"Our inspired prophets sometimes make mistakes
Never blindly follow, caution we must take
It is up to us to know how to discern
In our search for truth we still have much to learn!"

What exactly have we learned by "sad experience"?

Sincere question/concern without the patience of working on the right "tone":

What is the right way to respectfully approach our leaders if we have a disagreement or misunderstanding or questions/concerns that seem not to have any good answers? What if we have the audacity to suggest they might have done something "wrong"?

Sure, tone matters, but what we normally get is just a lot of “never criticize!” talk, and this in spite of the fact that "we have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion." D&C 121:39.

One woman can be excommunicated because one bishopric says she should be. Period. There is no due process. There is no impartial committee with women included that can make the final disciplinary decision after a bishop makes a recommendation. There is no requirement of unanimity of the bishopric either. Even on the stake level (where any disciplinary case involving a man holding the high priesthood are held) an excommunication cannot be vetoed by any number of the high council--the stake president can unilaterally make the decision himself.

Speaking of the High Council, is there any reason why women cannot serve on that council? If priesthood is required, why can't women serve under the direction of the keys of the stake president-just as the men on the High Council do-and similar to how women perform temple ordinances under the direction of the temple president's keys?

The sad truth is that a bishop can change from taking a pastoral approach to a disciplinary approach in the blink of an eye. And his decision will be upheld worldwide in the church. One church member serving in that one calling represents the entire Church since his decision of excommunication is like a currency that is accepted worldwide.

Technically there is an appeals process but I don't know of any case where an excommunication has been overturned by the First Presidency. It seems as though it is simply assumed that the local leaders who are closest to the situation know best. That is a scary prospect if excommunication is used in cases where true repentance is not even an issue.

Let me be clear: excommunication is and can be a proper part of the repentance process in serious cases (for example, murder or incest come to mind), and I know several people who have commented to me that their excommunication was necessary and they are now members in good standing. So I'm not arguing against excommunication, but when you lump in "conduct unbecoming of a church member" this can include a wide range of interpretation such as a difference of opinion or disagreeing with a church leader in public. Nobody in their right mind should agree that those examples deserve the same consequences.

Ideally Seers would see that excommunication is not the answer in cases where deep and serious sin has not occurred. There are many other lesser consequences that could be more appropriate. In Kate Kelly's case, whatever "crime" was committed (and I know that is debatable, since "conduct unbecoming of church members" is subjective in the extreme and there is no impartial jury, and some people are not as lucky as others in the unfortunate reality of ecclesiastical roulette) in my view the crime does not even come close to matching the punishment.

No one single person can ever know all the details, but from all the details that have been made known/public, I think that excommunication was wrong for Kate Kelly. Even if she deliberately tried (and I don't believe she did) to embarrass the church or church leaders or (heaven forbid) disobey them (since apparently some members see that as the most important "commandment", not to say anything of obeying one's own conscience and/or obeying principles over persons) it still would not be the right solution. It does more harm to the Church, whether we define the Church as an institution or as the people who make up the body of Christ.

In my mind, if I had more faith or trust or hope in church leaders always doing the right thing (ie: if I ignored D&C 121:39), the excommunication should have never taken place, even if she still lived in the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical leaders that made the decision (which she didn't) or at least it would have been overturned by leaders higher up in the hierarchy.

Alas, it seems that local actions are most always sustained in order to show the unanimity of the Good ol' Boys Club priesthood leadership.