This Sunday, a group of my friends sat down and discussed the familiar topic of why missionary work is so hard. Two points emerged that I wish to share here.
Perhaps one of the reasons we find missionary work difficult is that the typical person who questions us about what Mormons believe expects us to answer as "the representative Mormon." When this occurs, we find ourselves searching our minds to pull out official church documents or passages of scripture that we might quote so that we can speak for the organization as a whole. Unfortunately, these statements typically fall flat when told to non-members,not only because they are frequently written in language that only a Mormon would understand, but also because they do not reflect our own voices and the nuances of our personal beliefs.
The trouble is that none of us are representative Mormons. Rather, we are each individuals with slightly different beliefs who speak in different words. I want to suggest that we cannot be effective missionaries who can speak with spirit and conviction unless we respond as individuals rather than as representative Mormons. Unless we can use our own language to share with others why being a member of the church changes our lives in specific terms that the other person can relate to, then others will not be able to have an intimate, spiritual conversation with us.
Of course, we must also realize that the non-member we speak with is not a "representative non-member." Unless we attempt to learn about the specific details of the other person's life and beliefs, then we will not be able to have an effective exchange of ideas that will foster the spirit and community.
Once, however, we decide to be missionaries who respond as individuals rather than as representative members to inquiries about Mormon beliefs, we might feel that we do not want to always immediately answer a personal question. Sometimes we feel anxiety to respond to every question instantly, which is why we often fall back on general church statements, but not every question is appropriate for a non-member to ask. For example, one of my friends noted that she does not feel it is appropriate to respond to a question about what Mormons believe about chastity at work. So, she tells the person asking that the Mormon church says x, but she would prefer to go for a walk and discuss her personal believes on the matter in a more intimate, friendly setting. Missionary work does not mean that we need to respond to everything immediately; we should respond to questions when the time and place is right, and create a better time, place, and conversational terms when needed.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Promoting rather than defining "family values"
Many church members and official publications frequently speak about family values, motherhood, and fatherhood, but rarely go on to define what they mean by these terms and to illustrate the various roles that they attach to them. Although I think most people would acknowledge that, for example, motherhood is not simply an identity but a bundle of many different roles that one performs, these roles rarely enter into discussions about family values. We rely on family values as a rallying cry that all too frequently pits us against non-Mormons, but beyond agreeing that family values are good we rarely discuss what actions encompass them. What is the consequence of the fact that we speak a lot about our gender and family identities, but rarely about the different activities that these identities entail?
I think that perhaps the most significant consequence of this rhetoric is that it prevents us from shaping effective policies that could lend support to people trying to fulfill their various roles. We cannot shape policies that support an essential and abstract ideal like "motherhood," because motherhood is a fuzzy idea rather than a person. But we can pass legislation that could help people fulfill particular roles. We could, for example, promote further educational and employment opportunities for women who decide to stay home while their children are young. We could petition for quality child care or for a shorter work day. We could effectively support any number of causes that would help us fulfill the roles we value and enable us to have strong families.
Certainly, we might find that we agree and disagree about which of these roles we seek to promote, but if we began to speak in terms of the various roles we play and stopped trying to prescribe essential identities, we would be significantly farther along than where we are now in diagnosing and relieving the challenges that face the men and women trying to structure and support their families. We cannot successfully promote or defend abstract conceptions of identity. Our church could, however, become an immense force in promoting families if we stopped staking our claims on identity issues like gay marriage and began instead to diagnose and fight for what people need in order to successfully raise families and promote meaningful lives for men and women in 2007.
I think that perhaps the most significant consequence of this rhetoric is that it prevents us from shaping effective policies that could lend support to people trying to fulfill their various roles. We cannot shape policies that support an essential and abstract ideal like "motherhood," because motherhood is a fuzzy idea rather than a person. But we can pass legislation that could help people fulfill particular roles. We could, for example, promote further educational and employment opportunities for women who decide to stay home while their children are young. We could petition for quality child care or for a shorter work day. We could effectively support any number of causes that would help us fulfill the roles we value and enable us to have strong families.
Certainly, we might find that we agree and disagree about which of these roles we seek to promote, but if we began to speak in terms of the various roles we play and stopped trying to prescribe essential identities, we would be significantly farther along than where we are now in diagnosing and relieving the challenges that face the men and women trying to structure and support their families. We cannot successfully promote or defend abstract conceptions of identity. Our church could, however, become an immense force in promoting families if we stopped staking our claims on identity issues like gay marriage and began instead to diagnose and fight for what people need in order to successfully raise families and promote meaningful lives for men and women in 2007.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Citation and the conference talk
When the conference issue of the Ensign arrived earlier this week, I eagerly turned to President Hinckley's address, "The Things of Which I Know." I looked forward to hearing how he acquired his faith and how I might share similar experiences. But then, I got to the following paragraph:
How deeply grateful I am that we of this Church do not rely on any man-made statement concerning the nature of Deity. Our knowledge comes directly from the personal experience of Joseph Smith, who, while yet a boy, spoke with God the Eternal Father and His Beloved Sone, the Risen Lord.
This passage surprised me. Whereas I had opened the pages to read about President Hinckley's personal experiences and witnesses, in this passage, and throughout the rest of his talk, he expressed his personal experiences by citing Joseph Smith's. Puzzled, and I admit a bit annoyed, I began to look through the other talks in the magazine, only to become fully aware that the vast majority of the apostles' talks relied heavily on citation and quotation.
Certainly citation has its purposes. Theoretically, it demonstrates how we share a web of knowledge and resources, it links our experiences to those shared by others in the past and others in different geographical regions today (creating "truths" that transcend context), and, as in the Book of Matthew, we can draw upon the past to show how God has fulfilled it. For busy apostles, it also must surely give them a body of works to draw upon when asked to speak to numerous members. As they face difficult decisions, it must be comforting to look towards other leaders for precedents to follow.
But, I find myself asking, "Why does a church that believes so much in continuing revelation and personal testimony rely upon citation so much?" As I raise the question, I find myself wishing that our authorities would address us a bit more in their own voices and look more towards the future than the past.
How deeply grateful I am that we of this Church do not rely on any man-made statement concerning the nature of Deity. Our knowledge comes directly from the personal experience of Joseph Smith, who, while yet a boy, spoke with God the Eternal Father and His Beloved Sone, the Risen Lord.
This passage surprised me. Whereas I had opened the pages to read about President Hinckley's personal experiences and witnesses, in this passage, and throughout the rest of his talk, he expressed his personal experiences by citing Joseph Smith's. Puzzled, and I admit a bit annoyed, I began to look through the other talks in the magazine, only to become fully aware that the vast majority of the apostles' talks relied heavily on citation and quotation.
Certainly citation has its purposes. Theoretically, it demonstrates how we share a web of knowledge and resources, it links our experiences to those shared by others in the past and others in different geographical regions today (creating "truths" that transcend context), and, as in the Book of Matthew, we can draw upon the past to show how God has fulfilled it. For busy apostles, it also must surely give them a body of works to draw upon when asked to speak to numerous members. As they face difficult decisions, it must be comforting to look towards other leaders for precedents to follow.
But, I find myself asking, "Why does a church that believes so much in continuing revelation and personal testimony rely upon citation so much?" As I raise the question, I find myself wishing that our authorities would address us a bit more in their own voices and look more towards the future than the past.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Neutrality in an era of inequity
As graduation approaches once again at Columbia, I find myself thinking about the lessons I have learned through following the controversy about Cheney speaking at BYU. More specifically, I find myself asking what value the principle of neutrality serves within the church.
Like many others, I initially responded with concern to the news that BYU invited the Vice President to speak at graduation. As a New Yorker who must constantly disabuse my non-LDS friends of their perception that the LDS church aligns itself with the political right, I certainly did not feel that the invitation helped support my point.
But although I joined those who petitioned for the church to ensure that its future actions appeared more neutral, I now find myself deeply skeptical that the language of neutrality will be enough to actually allow the church to become an organization that embraces people of many political backgrounds. In an organization in which voices to the right have far more sway than voices on the left, to assert neutrality is to ensure a status quo that at times seems to marginalize current and potential members.
While the church should continue not to endorse or promote political agendas, to continually assert neutrality without addressing the real inequity that more liberal and international members feel might not be so neutral after all. Perhaps we must more actively welcome members from a variety of parties both in the US and abroad in order to ensure that people everywhere can better welcome the messages we have to offer.
Like many others, I initially responded with concern to the news that BYU invited the Vice President to speak at graduation. As a New Yorker who must constantly disabuse my non-LDS friends of their perception that the LDS church aligns itself with the political right, I certainly did not feel that the invitation helped support my point.
But although I joined those who petitioned for the church to ensure that its future actions appeared more neutral, I now find myself deeply skeptical that the language of neutrality will be enough to actually allow the church to become an organization that embraces people of many political backgrounds. In an organization in which voices to the right have far more sway than voices on the left, to assert neutrality is to ensure a status quo that at times seems to marginalize current and potential members.
While the church should continue not to endorse or promote political agendas, to continually assert neutrality without addressing the real inequity that more liberal and international members feel might not be so neutral after all. Perhaps we must more actively welcome members from a variety of parties both in the US and abroad in order to ensure that people everywhere can better welcome the messages we have to offer.
Friday, May 4, 2007
"I know the church is true:" discovering vocabularies that work
A couple of days ago, an LDS graduate student list that I belong to sent a link to a question and answer session in The Washington Post with Helen Whitney, producer and director of "The Mormons." One curious reader intent on listening to Ms. Whitney asked the producer what she learned from her time studying Mormon culture. She replied:
I was struck by the emphasis on certainty in your religion. I come from a tradition which encourages doubt and questioning. My own faith is inflected with doubt which I feel is intimately connected to my faith. However, I sense from many conversations with Mormon believers that doubt can be seen as undermining of the faith, even dangerous to it. When I went to my first testimonial meeting, and heard men, women and children describe their faith using the words "I know" I was truly surprised. They didn't use words like: I hope, I believe, I intuit, but the ubiquitous phrase I know. For some Mormons, this can be inspirational, and yet for others it can be intimidating and discourage them from voicing their own questions. Nonetheless, as I spent time in the Mormon culture I came to learn that their certainty is a complex many layered encounter with the divine.
The content of Ms. Whitney's respectful response did not surprise me. Having asked myself for many years what Mormons mean when they claim that they "know the church is true" and what it might mean for me to voice those words through which we self-identify as members of a church, I could fully sympathize with Ms. Whitney's remark that the phrase is complex. Sometimes the phrase "I know" expresses firm conviction; at other moments, it is the rote phrase we use to close a testimony; on occassion, it stands as a poor substitute for the other terms Ms. Whitney mentions - hope, belief, in short, faith.
But although the phrase "I know the church is true" can appear complex to individuals who, like Ms. Whitney, listen well enough to discern the multiple meanings it conveys, I suspect that the strident, certain, and imprecise note that this rhetoric strikes often leads to misunderstandings amongst those within and outside of the LDS church.
To claim that "x" is "y" is to trade in essentials, to shift the debate to what something IS rather than what something DOES. When we claim that the church is true, we speak of the essence of what the church means to us. But, in staking this claim - a claim that is too cliche to confer much meaning to people who don't share the culture associations it carries to us - we also invite resistance to it and fail to give other people a point of reference through which they can engage with our ideas. We define our position and invite others to define theirs, a dead-end move that shuts down conversations that might help us better understand each other's experiences.
Rather than professing the church is true, perhaps it would be more useful if we as church members used a more precise vocabulary and began to describe what the church does for us in our lives that lead us to be members. I suspect that if we were to shift our vocabulary away from essentials and towards what our faith does, then we would more actively understand and take responsibility for the deeds that motivate our belief.
Certainly, there have been moments in my experience of the LDS church when I have known both people who felt threatened by other members' desires to question and those who felt unwelcome in a culture that appeared rather too rigid and prescritive of conservative values. I, for one, have often both these people at once. But I suspect that if we as members were to pay more attention to the language through which we expressed our belief, focusing always on what belief does, that we would discover more intersections and exciting potentials in our faith with people both within and outside of the LDS church. So many times, I am astonished at how I talk past someone until a slight change of diction brings us onto the same page. If in our relationships to other people we cannot agree on what something is, then we need to search for a vocabulary that does work.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/discussion/2007/04/27/DI2007042701597.html?hpid=sec-religion?hpid=sec-religion
I was struck by the emphasis on certainty in your religion. I come from a tradition which encourages doubt and questioning. My own faith is inflected with doubt which I feel is intimately connected to my faith. However, I sense from many conversations with Mormon believers that doubt can be seen as undermining of the faith, even dangerous to it. When I went to my first testimonial meeting, and heard men, women and children describe their faith using the words "I know" I was truly surprised. They didn't use words like: I hope, I believe, I intuit, but the ubiquitous phrase I know. For some Mormons, this can be inspirational, and yet for others it can be intimidating and discourage them from voicing their own questions. Nonetheless, as I spent time in the Mormon culture I came to learn that their certainty is a complex many layered encounter with the divine.
The content of Ms. Whitney's respectful response did not surprise me. Having asked myself for many years what Mormons mean when they claim that they "know the church is true" and what it might mean for me to voice those words through which we self-identify as members of a church, I could fully sympathize with Ms. Whitney's remark that the phrase is complex. Sometimes the phrase "I know" expresses firm conviction; at other moments, it is the rote phrase we use to close a testimony; on occassion, it stands as a poor substitute for the other terms Ms. Whitney mentions - hope, belief, in short, faith.
But although the phrase "I know the church is true" can appear complex to individuals who, like Ms. Whitney, listen well enough to discern the multiple meanings it conveys, I suspect that the strident, certain, and imprecise note that this rhetoric strikes often leads to misunderstandings amongst those within and outside of the LDS church.
To claim that "x" is "y" is to trade in essentials, to shift the debate to what something IS rather than what something DOES. When we claim that the church is true, we speak of the essence of what the church means to us. But, in staking this claim - a claim that is too cliche to confer much meaning to people who don't share the culture associations it carries to us - we also invite resistance to it and fail to give other people a point of reference through which they can engage with our ideas. We define our position and invite others to define theirs, a dead-end move that shuts down conversations that might help us better understand each other's experiences.
Rather than professing the church is true, perhaps it would be more useful if we as church members used a more precise vocabulary and began to describe what the church does for us in our lives that lead us to be members. I suspect that if we were to shift our vocabulary away from essentials and towards what our faith does, then we would more actively understand and take responsibility for the deeds that motivate our belief.
Certainly, there have been moments in my experience of the LDS church when I have known both people who felt threatened by other members' desires to question and those who felt unwelcome in a culture that appeared rather too rigid and prescritive of conservative values. I, for one, have often both these people at once. But I suspect that if we as members were to pay more attention to the language through which we expressed our belief, focusing always on what belief does, that we would discover more intersections and exciting potentials in our faith with people both within and outside of the LDS church. So many times, I am astonished at how I talk past someone until a slight change of diction brings us onto the same page. If in our relationships to other people we cannot agree on what something is, then we need to search for a vocabulary that does work.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/discussion/2007/04/27/DI2007042701597.html?hpid=sec-religion?hpid=sec-religion
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