A Liahona Latter-day Saint

I never knew Dr. Poll (pronounced Paul--the name was English) in person, but through his writing and recorded work, he has influenced me enough that I can affirm what Thomas G. Alexander said "In Memoriam:" Poll was a "dedicated and inspiring teacher," and his legacy deeply and personally influences me today. I consider him, even now, as one of my most significant Mormon "maverick" mentors, and my primary example of what it means to be both committed to history and to faith, especially as a Liahona Latter-day Saint. His calm, reasoned, and compassionate voice resonated with me when I listened to this talk in audio format years ago, and it continues to inspire me today. In an effort to share it with others and to make the text easier for me to reference in the future, I include it below in its entirety:

RICHARD D. POLL was a professor emeritus of history at BYU. This paper was originally presented at the 1993 "Pillars of My Faith" session of the Sunstone Symposium in Salt Lake City on 13 August. He died 27 April 1994.

My life and my study of history have made me optimistic. Things can be better than they are, and they will be if we rise more resolutely and joyously to the faithful proposition: "I am a child of God." Because I believe that God has an interest in the outcome, I confidently anticipate that this church-my church-will continue to change, repenting and improving in response to continuing revelation.

A LIAHONA LATTER-DAY SAINT

By Richard D. Poll

For me, faith is what an earlier Paul said it is: "The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Heb. 11:1.) It transcends empirical knowledge, and because what humanity learns by reason and experience is both finite and fallible, it may even contradict such "knowledge." Where a faith proposition and a knowledge proposition seem contradictory, l feel no compulsion to choose between them unless it becomes necessary to act upon one or the other. Many issues that strain relations between some good Latter-day Saints who are present tonight and some good Latter-day Saints who are not here do not require resolution. For pragmatic and doctrinal reasons, I believe in sus­pending judgment in such cases.

I am, in short, a Latter-day Saint who believes that the gospel is true, but has an imperfect and evolving under­ standing of what the gospel is. My testimony will, I suppose, be of most interest to "people like me"--people for whom neither dogmatic fundamentalism nor dogmatic humanism pro­vides convincing answers to lifes most basic questions.

The pillars of my faith are two of the Articles of Faith defined by the Prophet-Founder of my church and an interpretive principle provided by a Founding Father of my country.

The first article of faith affirms: "We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost."

The ninth article of faith affirms: "We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God."

James Madison cautioned: "When the Almighty himself condescends to address mankind in their own language, his meaning, luminous as it must be, is rendered dim and doubtful by the cloudy medium through which it is communicated."1  Because I believe with Madison 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.

I believe in Heavenly Parents who care about me but who will not, perhaps cannot, compel me to obey. I have hope in Christ, and I have drawn strength from the Comforter of whom he spoke. I see history in terms of human strivings to discover divine realities and follow divine principles. Flashes of prophetic insight have elevated those efforts, and Jesus of Nazareth, in his life, death, and resurrection, uniquely embodied those realities. Joseph Smith, a prophet like Moses, Peter, and Alma, gave inspiration and momentum to the gospel dispensation in which, as I have written earlier, I find answers to "enough important questions to live purposefully without answers to the rest."

In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints I have found ideas, opportunities, and challenges around which I have organized my life. Next to my family, my church is the most important component of that life. I am proud of its contributions to bettering the human condition and grateful for its contributions to my own. If I were in charge of the Church, I would make some changes. Since I am not, I must be patient, but I need not be passive. As a historian, I know that changes have occurred, and the ninth article of faith assures me that they will yet occur. As I reflect tonight upon the building and testing of my faith, I will offer a few suggestions.

Pivotal in the evolution of my personal testimony was my family's move from Salt Lake City to Texas in 1929, when I was ten years old. In consequence, I had no close Mormon friends, except my younger brother and sister, in junior and senior high school and five years at Texas Christian University. I found many non-smoking, non-drinking friends and in the process lost any categorical "we-they" perception of the world that I might have brought with me from Utah. At eighteen I was both superintendent of the Fort Worth Branch Sunday School and president of the TCU Student Christian Association. My two closest male friends were a Bible fundamentalist and a liberal Campbellite, neither of whom was more persuaded by my testimony than I was by theirs. I decided then, and subsequent experience has not changed my mind, that people convert to Mormonism and open them­selves to the witness of the Spirit when they are dissatisfied with some important aspect of their tangible or intangible condition, and they remain converted when they find in the Church a sufficient and enduring response to that need.

I was confident that I would marry a bright young woman who would be already Mormon or ready to join the Church, either for the gospel's sake or for mine. As it turned out, the lovely and intelligent Nebraska Methodist whom I left behind in 1939 for a mission to Germany sent me a "Dear John." The war that caused me to be transferred to the Canadian mission later brought me, as an Army/Air Force instructor in Miami Beach in 1943, together with a lovely and intelligent Mormon from Utah. Seven weeks later we were married in the Salt Lake Temple by the same Joseph Fielding Smith who had united my parents in 1916. I am reluctant to attribute World War II to a providential design to bring Gene and me together, but now at our golden anniversary we do think that finding each other was some kind of miracle.

Texas Christian University had a profound influence on my life and faith. It made me a political liberal, a teacher, historian, football fan, and lover of peace. As a senior I was chosen student body president in an uncontested election because I was the only student council member still on speaking terms with all factions in the controversy that forced my predecessor to resign. Throughout my life I have aspired to be a mediating, moderating, and motivating influence.

At TCU I learned Burke's warning against apathy: "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good [people] to do nothing," and Goethe's warning against zeal without knowledge: "There is nothing so terrible as ignorance in action." I have quoted both in hundreds of history classes. A course in the New Testament introduced me to another epigram that has influenced my deportment in Church classes, both as teacher and student: "The function of religon is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." If I were ever asked to speak in general conference, that would be my text.

The primary activities to which I have devoted the last fifty years have all helped to shape and test my faith:

1. My relations with Gene, our three daughters, their partners, and our seven grandchildren have been central to my life. Had I experienced "consciousness raising" earlier, I would probably have been a better husband and father, but Gene and I worked hard at building a traditional LDS home and family and both the effort and the outcomes have brought us happiness. We have faith in the proposition "Families Are Forever," and we recently watched a grandson sing the lead in Saturday's Warrior without letting theological questions mar our enjoyment of the occasion.

2. My relations with the Church have included attending meetings regularly, going to the temple occasionally, and accepting callings ranging from branch president, bishop's counselor, and high council member, to officer and teacher in every organization for which I am gender-qualified. Currently I teach the high priests along with a sweet-spirited and knowledgeable retiree from the BYU religion faculty. The class members seem to find his scripture-based answers and my scripture-based questions equally engaging. If the hours devoted to teaching preparation, informal gospel conversations, and unofficial Church-related gatherings are added to the hours in scheduled meetings, both my income and my time have been tithed, and I begrudge neither offering.

3. Except for the appointment as administrative vice president that took me to Western Illinois University after twenty-two years at BYU, my professional life has been closely linked to Mormonism. As a teacher and writer, I have observed how encountering history affects religious perspectives. It nudges some people toward disbelief and drives others into denial, but it provides more questions than answers. History is hard on myths and traditions that are contradicted by non-Hofmannesque evidence, but it neither proves nor disproves the central faith propositions of the gospel.

My own life with history, including the history of my own life, leads me to these observations about my church and my personal testimony:

I belong to a church whose past and present leaders, with a few exceptions, have been men and women of ability, integrity, and devotion. I occasionally differ with their collective decisions or think uncharitably about individuals among them, but I believe that they seek to serve God and that, taken as a whole, the fruits of their labors are good. As my brothers and sisters, they are entitled to my sympathy, support, and suggestions.

I sustain fifteen of my church leaders as prophets, although history tells me that leading any organized religion is primarily a priestly rather than a prophetic function. As voices crying in the wilderness, prophets like John the Baptist and Joseph Smith challenged the ecclesiastical status quo. Among recipients of each new dispensation of divine truth, however, there quickly arises concern for preserving and protecting what has been received. Among today's prophet/high priests, there seems to be intense preoccupation with what may happen if unauthorized hands touch the ark of the covenant. There is reluctance to consider any unsolicited suggestion even if "it seems so reasonable and right." I pray that these understandable concerns do not produce insensitivity to changing needs among the Saints and to new possibilities.

I believe that revelation may come through visions, dreams, and visitations, as God wills, but my Madisonian skepticism rejects the notion that the mind of a prophet--any prophet--is a fax machine linked to a divine transmitter. The history and scriptures of the Restoration testify that almost every revelation is confirmatory. It responds to a proposed answer to a pressing question, and the timing and substance of both question and tentative answer are shaped by the character, experiences, and needs of the questioner. I believe this is true even if the petitioner for divine guidance is a prophet. I believe it is my right to help shape the context and content of future prophetic inquiries, even as I have tried to do in the past, and I pray for wisdom and patience in asserting that right.

I see merit in the apostolic commitment to support decisions once collectively made, but a wonderful range of personal contacts has convinced me that those who wear the prophetic mantle do not all think alike and that they certainly do not always subscribe to the dictum, "When the prophet speaks the thinking has been done." For me, their humanness as individuals makes their collective accomplishments more remarkable. I sustain them in their difficult callings with the realization that, taken as a group, they are neither more nor less singleminded, devoted, and inspired than their predecessors.

Let me illustrate this component of my testimony with three personal experiences:

1.When BYU was recruiting students over forty years ago, John A. and Leah D. Widstoe rode to California with Gene and me in our Model A Ford. It was a great opportunity to get to know the man whose book A Rational Theology, helped shape my own beliefs and the woman primarily responsible for expanding the Word of Wisdom into a comprehensive health code. Sensitive to the situation, Gene and I ordered whole wheat toast with our breakfast. When the Widstoes joined us, they ordered white.

2. In consequence of my publicly criticizing Joseph Fielding Smith's book Man, His Origin and Destiny, Gene and I had the remarkable opportunity to meet privately with Church President David 0. McKay and immediately thereafter with President Smith, and to hear them give flatly contradictory answers to the question, "Is the concept of evolution compatible with the gospel?" We remain to this day thankful that the ninth article of faith sheltered us from having to decide which of these venerable prophets was expressing inspired truth.

3. On more than one occasion I heard President Hugh B. Brown speak of the difficult predicament of the counselor in the First Presidency who has "responsibility without authority." Both he and President Henry D. Moyle, his strong-minded predecessor as first counselor to President McKay, were ultimately defeated by it. It is true that the Church has developed a "back-up system" that insures continuity in operations, but it is historically demonstrable that the internal dynamics of the apostolic councils change when the one person who is doctrinally authorized to speak for God to the whole church is unable to lead effectively. I pray, I hope, and I believe that options for accomplishing for the Church what the twenty-fifth Amendment has achieved in the national government are under consideration among our prophet-leaders, and that an appropriate solution will in due course receive divine confirmation.

I belong to a church whose structure, programs, policies, and doctrinal interpretations are in constant flux, as the concept of continuing revelation requires that they be. My testimony has been strengthened by most of the changes that have occurred since I was required to hold my left hand behind my back while passing the sacrament, and I expect to agree with most of the changes that will yet occur. On the premise that recording them here puts them into the context for continuing revelation, I offer two prayerfully considered suggestions:

1. The Sunday meeting schedule should be redesigned to address at least these three shortcomings of the present block plan: The strain on the attention and patience spans of little children and those who teach them; the difficulties inherent in trying to produce two short, safe, significant classes in quick succession; and the insufficiently met need for informal social interaction among ward members.

2. The "woman question," clearly a subject of profound concern among our prophet-leaders today, should be carried beyond the present laudable focus on curbing abuse of women and children to a consideration of the full implications of gender equality in the kingdom of God. Changes requiring only policy modifications might include admitting women to the ritual blessings of babies, enhancing the opportunities and recognition given for teen-age girls, encouraging female children to consider missions, and including active LDS women in decision making--as distinct from decision implementation--at the ward and stake levels.

This is an issue no less fundamental than the plural marriage question that produced a revolutionary revelation a century ago and the racial problem, the revealed solution to which is revolutionizing the Church today. What does the future hold? Surely this is one of the great and important things on which we can anticipate further light and knowledge.

It is exciting and faith promoting to belong to a church in which many, many men and women of ability and commitment face challenges as great as any earlier generation. While our prophet-leaders confront the daunting task of separating traditions and customs from gospel universals, they remodel organizations, policies, programs, even priesthood quorums in ways that suggest both flexibility and inspiration. It seems clear to me that they are asking many of the right questions and receiving many excellent answers. Most of their public and private counsel focuses on Christ's precepts for living.

When things are said and done that suggest the thirty-ninth verse of Doctrine and Covenants 121 ("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"), or the fable of the king's new clothes, we may still choose, aware of our own spiritual nakedness, to help create a better royal wardrobe rather than abandon the court and the kingdom. Reinforcing my resolve to carry on is my conviction that among our dedicated and prayerful prophet-leaders there must be a growing awareness that the present bureaucratic approach to us Mormon mavericks is not only counterproductive but morally questionable. As we anxiously discuss what to do about the Brethren, we should derive encouragement, I think, from the clear signs that they are anxiously concerned over what to do about us.

My life and my study of history have made me optimistic. Things can be better than they are, and they will be if we rise more resolutely and joyously to the faithful proposition: "I am a child of God." They can and will be when those who must "prove all things" (1 Thes. 5:21) and those who steadfastly "hold fast that which is good" realize that they are defending two sides of the same divine formula. Because I believe that God has an interest in the outcome, I confidently anticipate that this church--my church--will continue to change, repenting and improving in response to continuing revelation. In this expectation I close with an adaptation of my remarks at last year's symposium:

Encouraged by the apostle Paul's observation, "A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump" (Gal. 5:9), I aspire to live out my life as a Liahona Latter-day Saint whose questioning testimony perplexes some and comforts others of his brothers and sisters. I intend to frame my questions, make my suggestions, and bear my witness with charity, humility, and persistence. Thus I hope to help produce a Mormon chorus in which almost all the singers hear the dissonant sounds of the alternate voices as polyphonic enrichment of the message of the gospel music.

NOTE
1. Quoted in Alpheus T. Mason,"Free Government's Balance Wheel," Wilson Quarterly (Spring 1972): 97.

"Where truth flies you follow If you are a pioneer"

This will be a long post, and yet the most heartfelt post I have written in a long time. At some point in time I chose the subtitle "cutting my own path" for my "Clean Cut" blog. When I originally started blogging I wasn't quite the Mormon "maverick" I pretend to be today.  Yeah, I drank caffeine--what a rebel, right? My wife suggested “Clean Cut with a Coke” and I liked the play on words and the alliteration. For the sake of simplicity I ended up shortening the name, while also enjoying the irony of my apparently "orthodox" appearance belying my progressively "unorthodox" views.

In reality, I despise "keeping up appearances" as much as I despise dictatorial dogmatism, rigidity of procedure and intolerance. So cutting my own path seemed to fit my personal Clean Cut philosophy as I pioneer and cut my own way through life. It especially felt applicable as I underwent my own faith transition, deconstructing my previous beliefs and then reconstructing them all over again into something more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. Along with this individualism, I still greatly value the community. But I recognize that the community exists to support the individual--not the other way around.

While I've never admitted this publicly here before today, there was a time that I had such doubt (I dislike the term faith crisis) that I wondered if I could even continue in good faith as a member of the Church. It was a lonely, dark and dreary world--quite a depressing time. It seemed at times as though nobody understood me, or could help me, let alone sympathize with me. I now personally know many others like me, and as evidenced by a recent publication in BYU Magazine that should be required reading for every member of the Church, this is a growing phenomenon that's not going to go away. Seriously, if you don't read anything else, at least go and read this article here: "Keeping the Faith".

Latter-day Saints must do a much better job of loving and supporting our brothers and sisters going through their own faith transitions and times of questioning. We must emphasize what BYU professor Spencer Fluhman told a questioning student who began to believe his doubts disqualified him from the community: “You belong with us in your doubt. We want you here. You are us. We are you. We’re all in this together. We’re all at some level of spiritual understanding with imperfect faith.”

The only thing that kept me from giving up my faith entirely is partially a good dose of stubbornness on my part, but mostly due to a fantastic wife in whom I could confide anything and everything and who kept me grounded and going slow (because on my own I sometimes make rash decisions.) Whereas many give up and leave their faith behind quite quickly, my process was very long and slow--"Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief". I've benefited immensely by connecting with a community of others like me, from great and stimulating scholarship in the Mormon Studies world, and also from insights shared by Mormon thinkers who participate in the online world.

My personal faith has emerged from what seemed at one point like ashes to what now feels like a phoenix. Unless one has read Terryl and Fiona Given's first chapter in "The God Who Weeps" or Terryl Given's "Letter to a Doubter", they might not quite understand what I mean. From "Letter to a Doubter":

I know I am grateful for a propensity to doubt because it gives me the capacity to freely believe. I hope you can find your way to feel the same. The call to faith is a summons to engage the heart, to attune it to resonate in sympathy with principles and values and ideals that we devoutly hope are true and which we have reasonable but not certain grounds for believing to be true. There must be grounds for doubt as well as belief in order to render the choice more truly a choice, and therefore more deliberate and laden with more personal vulnerability and investment. An overwhelming preponderance of evidence on either side would make our choice as meaningless as would a loaded gun pointed at our heads. The option to believe must appear on one’s personal horizon like the fruit of paradise, perched precariously between sets of demands held in dynamic tension.  

Fortunately, in this world, one is always provided with sufficient materials out of which to fashion a life of credible conviction or dismissive denial. We are acted upon, in other words, by appeals to our personal values, our yearnings, our fears, our appetites, and our egos. What we choose to embrace, to be responsive to, is the purest reflection of who we are and what we love. That is why faith, the choice to believe, is, in the final analysis, an action that is positively laden with moral significance. 

The call to faith, in this light, is not some test of a coy god waiting to see if we “get it right.” It is the only summons, issued under the only conditions which can allow us to reveal fully who we are, what we most love, and what we most devoutly desire. Without constraint, without any form of mental compulsion, the act of belief becomes the freest possible projection of what resides in our hearts. Like the poet’s image of a church bell that reveals its latent music only when struck, or a dragonfly that flames forth its beauty only in flight, so does the content of a human heart lie buried until action calls it forth. The greatest act of self-revelation occurs when we choose what we will believe, in that space of freedom that exists between knowing that a thing is and knowing that a thing is not. 

This is the realm where faith operates; and when faith is a freely chosen gesture, it expresses something essential about the self.

Adam Miller ("Letters to a Young Mormon") has also written some insightful words describing the kind of faith to which I now aspire:

"Either way, whether God is or isn't obvious to you, the work is the same. Practice faithfully attending to the difficult, disturbing, and resistant truths God sets knocking at your door. Faith is a willingness...to care for what is right in front of you. Faith doesn't wish these difficult things away, it invites them in, breaks bread with them, and washes their feet. Faith is what you need to persist in truth as your sweet story, regardless of its content, gets overwritten by the real."
...
"Faith is more like being faithful to your husband or wife then it is like believing in magic. Fidelity is the key. You may fall in love with someone because of how well they complement your story but you'll prove yourself faithful to them only when you care more for the flawed, difficult, unplotted life you end up sharing with them. Faith isn't the opposite of knowledge. Rather, like love, faith perfects knowledge by practicing fidelity to it" (Adam Miller, "Letters to a Young Mormon").

There is a cost to leaving behind the "old" faith and embracing this "new" faith. That cost, of course, is that I can never go back to where I once was; a cost I happily pay. I'm grateful now to never be stagnant, to be on an ongoing pioneering quest for truth, because "where truth flies you follow if you are a pioneer." I embrace the life of ambiguity, messiness, and uncertainty--because that's life, and life is worth it. I try to appreciate true simplicity when and where things really are simple, but I've had to unburden myself in order to truly feel free to focus on love, compassion, and grace. Not that I've arrived by any means, but I love the path. I strive to pack my handcart with the precious things; by necessity I've had to discard a lot of unnecessary baggage.

If I'm allowed to think outside the box (and if we're wise we'll discard the box altogether), the restoration is really a process of restoring all the most vital relationships that are significant to me--restoring all that was and is broken--including myself. We focus so much on being like the Good Samaritan in the parable and treating others like he treated that "certain man" on the way to Jericho. But sometimes we are the ones that are lying half dead on the side of the road, and we're the ones in need of ministering. We may go unnoticed by others because we struggle internally. These are the times when we can have hope in Christ as the One to whom we can turn everything over and allow his grace to minister to us.

This would probably be a good place to conclude, if not for my incessant desire to share some things I've learned from my personal faith transition. (Continue at your own discretion.)

I've learned that there are actually very few things that are "core" or "essential" that I must believe, and I make progress in the gospel harness at my own pace and try to make contributions to others where I can along the way.

I've learned that many people still put too much faith in the institution rather than in their own ability to access the divine.

I've learned to make a very important distinction between "the church" and "the gospel," but I've also learned from the great Eugene England "Why The Church Is As True As the Gospel."

I've learned that traditionally and historically there has actually been a large diversity of Mormon thought and a wide latitude of possible beliefs within Mormonism. Some of us are trying to reclaim this and we push back against the current of conformity to carve out a space for people who don't want to be smothered by the culture that evolved as the Church grew from its radical and liberal early days into the conservative institutional "corporation" that many mistake for a Mormon monolith.

I've learned that Joseph Smith's words are too often forgotten: “[Other denominations] have creeds which a man must believe or be asked out of their church. I want the liberty of thinking and believing as I please. It feels so good not to be trammeled. It does not prove that a man is not a good man because he errs in doctrine" (Joseph Smith, History of the Church, 5:340.)

I've learned to simply refuse to accept that because a more dominant strain of Mormonism picked up steam post-correlation that this somehow means that there is one right or one orthodox version of Mormonism that is now somehow the only acceptable one and that I must conform like a mindless robot. This would discount the true beauty of the plan to experience using our own moral judgement as free agents.  And it would discount a plethora of wonderful Mormon voices in the past (and present) in favor of a few voices that used the loudest bullhorn to preach their own version of doctrine just as correlation picked up steam, thus shaping much of the mainstream today.

I've learned I place great value in these words:

Elder Wirthlin:
"Tied to this misconception is the erroneous belief that all members of the Church should look, talk, and be alike. The Lord did not people the earth with a vibrant orchestra of personalities only to value the piccolos of the world. Every instrument is precious and adds to the complex beauty of the symphony. All of Heavenly Father’s children are different in some degree, yet each has his own beautiful sound that adds depth and richness to the whole." 

President Ucthdorf:
"While the Atonement is meant to help us all become more like Christ, it is not meant to make us all the same. Sometimes we confuse differences in personality with sin. We can even make the mistake of thinking that because someone is different from us, it must mean they are not pleasing to God. This line of thinking leads some to believe that the Church wants to create every member from a single mold—that each one should look, feel, think, and behave like every other. This would contradict the genius of God, who created every man different from his brother, every son different from his father. Even identical twins are not identical in their personalities and spiritual identities. 

"It also contradicts the intent and purpose of the Church of Jesus Christ, which acknowledges and protects the moral agency—with all its far-reaching consequences—of each and every one of God’s children. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are united in our testimony of the restored gospel and our commitment to keep God’s commandments. But we are diverse in our cultural, social, and political preferences.

"The Church thrives when we take advantage of this diversity and encourage each other to develop and use our talents to lift and strengthen our fellow disciples... 

"In the great Composer’s symphony, you have your own particular part to play—your own notes to sing. Fail to perform them, and with certainty the symphony will go on. But if you rise up and join the chorus and allow the power of God to work through you, you will see 'the windows of heaven' open, and He will 'pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.' Rise up to your true potential as a [child] of God, and you can be a force for good in your family, your home, your community, your nation, and indeed in the world."

I've learned that I grew up within a culture of correlation with blinders on, thinking that everything was simple, and even rejoicing in my church proscribed "role"--I saw things as pretty black and white. I then awoke to find that things aren't black or white at all, but all kinds of complex and vibrant colors.

I've learned to embrace the many shades of ambiguity, whether in the Church or outside the Church, because that's life, and I choose to be faithful to it.

I've learned to adjust my paradigms and expectations.

I've learned "the science of muddling through" (Lindblom) has many applications.

When I say I no longer identify with the "culture of correlation," I mean that line of thinking that there is one right answer or one right way to be a one true Mormon. I once wrote on this blog about my experience reading an article in Dialogue that opened my eyes to the world of a "wide latitude of possible beliefs", which is a world I personally find far more compelling than the vanilla "correlated" world of Mormonism:

"Whether people realize it or not, there is a richness and diversity within Mormon thought. I've been a Mormon all my life and I feel like I'm only now beginning to scratch the surface. I like how Blake Ostler put it at the end of his article:

'Many Mormons, and probably most non-Mormons, have failed to grasp the wide latitude of possible beliefs which can be tolerated within the tradition of Mormon thought. Although many view Mormon thought as restrictive, it is in fact more inclusive than exclusive, more thought-provoking than thought-binding.

'For instance, an individual member's beliefs may range from an absolutist view to a traditionally heretical, finitist view of God and man and still remain well within the bounds of traditional Mormon expressions of faith—a latitude far beyond the tolerance of Protestantism or Catholicism. The Church's reluctance to clarify its theology on an official level has left it up to individual members to think through and work out their own understanding of and relationship to God. In short, the burden of a consistent theology and vibrant relationship with God in Mormonism is not a corporate responsibility; indeed it cannot be. Rather, it is an individual burden that reflects the unique relationship of God with each member. And each member must be willing to face the implications of his or her beliefs."

Yes, this approach can put me at odds with some of the people in the pews next to me. But I had no other choice--I had to adapt to what I was learning and experiencing. I had to decide for myself that there is enough value and enjoyment in the craziness of Mormonism--so I now embrace it, though on my own terms. I seek after that which is good and discard anything that causes harm. I also completely respect and sympathize with those who decide, through personality or experience or whatever, that it simply isn't worth the struggle anymore (because sometimes it is a struggle!) to make it work. I sympathize with that because, if I'm being honest, I'm well aware of the exit doors.

Nevertheless, I choose for myself to stay. It helps that I've come to feel at peace with the natural growth and progression from my childhood relationship with the Church to my present-day adult relationship with the Church, though naturally there are still some growing pains that come from trying to "put away childish things" without forgetting to seek the best of childlike qualities and faithfulness.

I personally love how Adam Miller has described our "faithfulness" as that of being faithful to life, not to the stories we tell ourselves about our life or even the stories we tell ourselves about the Church, but faithful to the life God actually places before us. I still love a good story--especially history. I especially find great value, along with President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, in "Seeing beyond the Leaf."

I love making connections and living life authentically. Yes, there are times when I speak authentically and share my nuanced faith and even my deeper understanding of "the skeletons in the closet" and I'm not always understood or appreciated. But nowadays I try (though not always successfully!) to be less concerned about being understood and more concerned with seeking to understand.

Except for my family, I no longer care much about what anyone else thinks of me--that is their business, not mine. The freedom from worrying about what others think about me is most liberating. I have enough on my own plate to be concerned about as it is. I also still have plenty to learn, especially learning to be respectful of others as I seek to live and share a thoughtful faith. This respect doesn't necessarily mean I'll be passive, but patient. I still have my self-respect, and I'll speak out against wrongful accusations. I have been accused of being a "wolf in sheeps clothing" or a "faith destroyer" when the reality is actually quite the opposite.

I, for one, am pro-faith. I am against putting faith in the wrong things–the arm of the flesh, fallible men, or the institution of the church. I am for putting faith in the pure gospel of Jesus Christ, in our individual ability to search for the divine within ourselves, and the beauty and dignity of every human being. Faith in life as it unfolds right in front of us and not only the supernatural beyond--but seeking to know God by how we treat our fellow man right next to or in front of us, as we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, etc.

So, in the meantime, I'm comfortable sticking around and trying to make a contribution where I can, and maybe learn a thing or two about this charity business. I definitely relate, however, to the delightfully irreverent Robert Kirby: "I’m Mormon. It’s who I am. Yeah, there are things I don’t like about my church but there are things that I do. It helps that I’m comfortable being my kind of Mormon. It helps me handle people who think they have a better idea what I should do than me."

The richness and diversity of the Mormon community is something I cherish and embrace, and I personally acknowledge that Mormonism is more "thought-provoking than thought-binding." Most importantly, I now recognize that I am in the drivers seat of my own search for the divine--not the Church™. I can be myself and embrace all the truths I find in the world, right where I am--while Mormon. If the culture were to ever make me feel like I couldn't do this, or embrace what apostle and former member of the First Presidency Hugh B Brown called "An Eternal Quest--Freedom of the Mind", or tolerate me as a free thinker, than I would no longer find that culture worth belonging to.

But so far so good, for me at least. I'm sure I frustrate some, and at times I get frustrated too--even with myself. But I don't believe the point of our experience here on earth is to avoid the hard lessons any more than it is to learn the right dogma. I think the real lesson is to learn to treat each other as Christ taught--to "love thy neighbor as thyself". I suspect I'm going to need a lifetime to really learn that. The Parable of the Good Samaritan never gets old, and for me at least, constantly presents itself in new light as life unfolds. It teaches me to show compassion and mercy to even the most marginalized in society, even if it is ourselves, and on whatever road we're traveling.

Finally, I'm indebted to Gina Colvin for the insight that in many ways the Church™ aspect of our Mormon community is managed by "managers" rather than by the "mystics". In a recent podcast she noted that "our mystics and our theologians are all among us; we walk with them everyday." So true. This is why I love to connect with a wide diversity of people, and I have found as much or more value in many of the things spoken by the mystics as I have in many or much of the things spoken by those in positions to manage the institution.

In all of this I've come to appreciate the lesson of appreciation itself. When I'm present, I find things to appreciate all around. I especially appreciate something put into words by Hugh B. Brown:

"Some say that the open-minded leave room for doubt. But I believe we should doubt some of the things we hear. Doubt has a place if it can stir in one an interest to go out and find the truth for one's self" ("An Abundant Life: The Memoirs of Hugh B Brown.") I also love the quote by Dr. Henry Eyring (father of "Hal" Eyring of the current First Presidency): "In this Church you have only to believe the truth. Find out what the truth is."

One truth I do "know" is that each of us is on our own journey to find out the truth for ourselves. Each of us is a pioneer in our own life--life has never before been lived in our own body. Each of us is on our own path, and sometimes our paths cross, weave, and unfortunately even depart from one another. But I have faith in the beauty of at-one-ment.

With that I'll close in the name of Carol Lynn Pearson, with the poem I've found so meaningful and profound. It continues to inspire me on my journey:

Pioneers

My people were Mormon pioneers.
Is the blood still good?
They stood in awe as truth
Flew by like a dove
And dropped a feather in the West.
Where truth flies you follow
If you are a pioneer.

I have searched the skies
And now and then
Another feather has fallen.
I have packed the handcart again
Packed it with the precious things
And thrown away the rest.

I will sing by the fires at night
Out there on uncharted ground
Where I am my own captain of tens
Where I blow the bugle
Bring myself to morning prayer
Map out the miles
And never know when or where
Or if at all I will finally say,
“This is the place,”

I face the plains
On a good day for walking.
The sun rises
And the mist clears.
I will be all right:
My people were Mormon Pioneers.

––Carol Lynn Pearson

Fascinating Discussion on Mormonism and Politics

Back in 2007 we had a fascinating discussion on Mormonism and Politics involving the media and Richard Bushman.  Now in 2012, the next election cycle, Boston College has sponsored a fascinating panel discussion involving Kristine Haglund (editor of Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought, and blogger at By Common Consent.  Parenthetically, one of my "favorite posts from other blogs" listed on my right sidebar is her "The Liturgy of Jello").  Both she and religion professor Stephen Prothero participate in an insightful discussion on Mormonism and politics.  The hour watching this on C-SPAN is an hour well spent.

Some Muddled Thoughts on Mormonism

In a recent GOP debate, Mitt Romney was asked what he would do as president if he found out Fidel Castro had died.  Romney said he'd "thank heavens" that Castro had "returned to his maker".  I immediately thought of Alma 40:11 ("the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to the God that gave them life") and wondered how much that factored into Romney's reply.  Gingrich (and others) assumed Romney was speaking about a final resting place (even though in Mormon scripture, final judgement comes later on), and made it clear he believed Castro was "going to the other place".

I'm really not interested in talking politics, Fidel Castro, or even the semantics of someone who doesn't believe in creation ex nihilo using the word "maker".  But I did wonder for a brief second about whether the Mormon understanding of the plan of salvation would become public fodder for presidential debates.  As far as I can tell (thankfully), it hasn't.  Nevertheless, it didn't stop me from reflecting on one of the things I like most about Mormonism--a very generous and quite inclusive version of salvation. 

I really don't care where Fidel Castro ends up.  In fact, I may be unusual among Mormons because I really don't even think about post-earth life very much anymore, nor the "degrees" of heaven.  In a way, I almost feel as though I've personally adopted an atheist perspective in the sense that what matters most to me, regardless of what comes after, is making the most of the here and now.  These precious moments of life become all the more precious when you don't take for granted anything "after".   

Nevertheless, I can still participate in the discussion, and we had a good one in a recent church lesson on the plan of salvation.  The teacher took the opening few minutes to draw out an impressive visual on a white board mapping the entire plan from our pre-earth life all the way through the three degrees of glory, because you know, we "know" that's how it goes (wink).  The focus of the lesson happened to be on the final judgement, and another scripture from Alma came up: "Our words will condemn us, yea, all our works will condemn us; . . . and our thoughts will also condemn us" (Alma 12:14). 

I raised two points: 1.  If this scripture were taken out of context, then it would be very easy to despair because we'd all be screwed.  And 2. The necessary context (and the only thing which happened to be missing on the impressive map/visual display) was actually the most important, but missing elephant in the room--hope through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.  (He immediately added "ATONEMENT" to the display in capital letters). 

Some Christians accuse Mormons of being universalists, since Mormons believe that ultimately most of God's children will end up in some kind of heaven.  The traditional Calvinist idea of God is one in which God predestines some of his children to heaven and some of them to hell.  I can't fathom a more unloving or more un-Christian idea.  I'm much more at peace with the idea of a generous and more inclusive afterlife.  It makes no sense to me that a God could eternally condemn His own children for something done here on earth when our understanding is so imperfect.

Of course the true Mormon view lies somewhere in between the two extremes of universalism and the injustices of the traditional heaven-hell theology.  On the one hand we Mormons have before us the Book of Mormon, which argues against universal salvation, and then on the other hand we have a later revelation through Joseph Smith (“The Vision”, or section 76 of the Doctrine and Covenants), which leans more towards universal salvation—to a degree.

I would assume that Universalists believe that eventually all mankind will get to live with God in heaven. However, under LDS doctrine, the truth is that some (a small minority) of God’s children will never permanently live with Him again.  But Mormons believe that a far more generous amount of people will eventually end up in a place they'll most likely feel perfectly comfortable with--"heaven".  And even though I don't worry too much about all that "future" stuff and try not to take post-earth life for granted (because my life now is all I've got), this is one of the things I love most about Mormonism.

I really like how Richard Bushman frames the issue in his classic biography “Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling” (p. 198-200), so I'll conclude my muddled thoughts by quoting at length his very articulate ones:

“Building on Paul, “The Vision” made the three resurrected glories of sun, moon, and stars into three heavenly realms…[Joseph Smith was not alone in believing thinking that] the sharp division of the afterlife into heaven and hell underestimated God’s desire to bless his children…Joseph later taught that there were three “heavens or degrees” within the celestial kingdom, further dividing the economy of God. 

“The most radical departure of “The Vision” was not the tripartite heaven but the contraction of hell. In Joseph[‘s] economy of God, the sinners ordinarily sent to hell forever remained there only until “Christ shall have subdued all enemies under his feet”. Then they are redeemed from the devil in the last resurrection to find a place in the telestial kingdom. Only those rare souls who know God’s power and reject it suffer everlasting punishment. God redeems all save these sons of perdition, “the only ones on whom the second death shall have any power”. 

“The doctrine recast life after death. The traditional division of heaven and hell made religious life arbitrary. One received grace or one went to hell. In Joseph’s afterlife, the issue was degrees of glory. A permanent hell threatened very few. The question was not escape from hell but closeness to God. God scaled the rewards to each person’s capacity. Even the telestial glory, the lowest of the three, “surpasses all understanding”. 

“A later revelation further softened divine judgment. In December 1832 the elders were told that glory was granted according to the law each person could “abide”, whether celestial, terrestrial, or telestial. One’s glory, it was implied, was tailored to one’s capacity. “He who is not able to abide the law of a celestial kingdom, cannot abide a celestial glory.” The glory one received was the glory on found tolerable. “For what doth it profit a man,” the section concluded, “if a gift is bestowed upon him, and he receive not the gift? Behold he rejoices not in that which is given him.” One’s place in heaven reflected more one’s preference than a judgment. “Intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth”. The last judgment matched affinities. 

“The three degrees doctrine resembled the Universalists’ belief that Christ’s atonement was sufficient to redeem everyone, or, alternately, that a benevolent God would not eternally punish his own children. No sinners were beyond salvation. The Universalists derived their name from the doctrine that salvation was as universal as Christ’s atoning sacrifice was powerful. Though sinners might be punished for a time as a form of discipline, Christ would ultimately save everyone. Joseph’s grandfather Asael Smith was among many small farmers and workers attracted to Universalist doctrine. In a sense, “The Vision” perpetuated Smith family doctrine.

“Strange to say, the Book of Mormon argued against universal salvation. A teacher of universalist doctrine, Nehor, was labeled a heretic in the Book of Mormon, and his followers, a band of rebellious priests called the Order of Nehor, disrupted Nephite society. Alma, a preeminent prophet, refuted universal salvation in a discourse to his son Corianton, and another prophet, Lehi, delivered an elaborate philosophical discourse to show that the law must impose punishment on transgressors or good and evil had no meaning. In opposition to universal salvation, the Book of Mormon envisioned the afterlife as heaven or hell. 

“In a perplexing reversal, a revelation received in the very month the Book of Mormon was published contradicted the book’s firm stand. The revelation said that the phrase “endless torment” did not mean no end to torment, but that “Endless” was a name of God, and “endless punishment” meant God’s punishment. Torment for sins would be temporary, just as the Universalists taught. In this tug-of-war between the Book of Mormon and the revelations, “The Vision” reinforced the Universalist tendency against the Book of Mormon’s anti-universalism.

“Where was Joseph Smith coming down on the question of universal salvation? Contradictory as they sound, the Universalist tendencies of the revelations and the anti-universalism of the Book of Mormon defined a middle ground where there were graded rewards in the afterlife, but few were damned. “The Vision” did not actually endorse universal salvation any more than the Book of Mormon did. It imposed permanent penalties for sinning, rewarded righteousness with higher degrees of glory, and assigned the sons of perdition to permanent outer darkness. But “The Vision” also eliminated the injustices of heaven-and-hell theology. The three degrees of glory doctrine lay somewhere between the two extremes.”

This Mormon Says 'More Mouw Please'

I continue to be impressed by Richard Mouw.  Check out his CNN "belief" blog post here:

My Take: This evangelical says Mormonism isn’t a cult

The Deseret News covers it here:

Evangelical leader says LDS Church is not a cult

I've previously blogged about Mouw here:  


Mormons Are Non-Traditional Christians (and other interfaith dialogue) 


Convicted and Civil