Today is the beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, an annual event of the World Council of Churches. It runs from January 18, which used to be a feast day associated with Peter, to January 25, which is the feast that commemorates the conversion of Paul. For Friday of this coming week, I'm organizing the monthly Taize service held by the Episcopal church Hugo and I attend (Taize refers to a meditative style of devotion involving repetitive singing and long periods of silence), and I'm bending the theme of that service toward Christian unity, the enduring hope that historical divisions among Christians will be overcome.
By a curious kind of coincidence—of the kind that my former spiritual mentor Michael Chase would have insisted isn't a coincidence at all—the scriptural theme for this year's Week of Prayer for Christian Unity is the passage in Ezekiel 37 about the stick of Judah and the stick of Joseph becoming one, the passage Mormons have used as a prooftext about the Bible and the Book of Mormon. (Do they still do that, or have enough people in high places finally learned how to read in context that correlation has quietly backed away from that embarrassing misreading?) Apparently the team in charge of creating this year's worship resources for the Week of Prayer is Korean, and they liken Ezekiel's prophecy about the reunification of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah to the longed-for reunification of their own country, which in turn is being taken as a type of the unification of Christians. The coincidence of their using an old Mormon prooftext as their theme creates an odd kind of connection to the material for me.
It occurs to me that there's also an odd coincidence (an uncomfortable one) in that I'm beginning my observance of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity immediately after a week in which I've been reflecting on Joseph Smith's First Vision, with its thorny passage—thorny even to progressively orthodox Latter-day Saints—about all other churches being wrong, their creeds an abomination, their professors all corrupt, etc.
But let's not go there, except to say that that passage represents the kind of interreligious exclusivity and hostility I'll be praying against this week. I'm thinking that my devotion for the week will be to recite an adapted rosary each morning. I'll start with the Apostles Creed (which even an orthodox Mormon could assent to, if in the line "I believe in the holy catholic church," you understand "catholic" to mean "universal," as in open to all people, male and female, black and white, etc.). I'll use the Lord's Prayer at the usual points. And then in place of the Hail Mary, I'll repeat the injunction from D&C 38:27, "I say to you, Be one; and if you are not one, you are not mine."
I'm looking forward to this: in the past, I've found using the rosary this way to be a fruitful meditative experience. I'll pick a short verse of LDS scripture to repeat for the decades (the five sets of ten beads where Catholics pray the Hail Mary), and the concentrated repetition of the verse becomes a way of reflecting and opening myself up to whatever the Spirit might have to say.
************
One final thing before I go do my first rosary recitation of the week: I give thanks for the ceasefire in Gaza and the beginning of the Israeli pullout. I pray for the international attempt now underway at working out a long-term peace. In Christ's name, amen.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Joseph prays for wisdom: A fable
The subject of this week's reading was the First Vision. My reflection this week is a sort of fable.
************
Some time in the second year after Joseph Smith's family moved to Manchester, there was in the place where he lived an unusual excitement on the subject of gay marriage. The New York Court of Appeals had recently ruled in favor of allowing gays to be married by the state, and many of the sects in that region of the country immediately raised a cry and tumult, calling for the state constitution to be revised so as to restrict marriage to the union of a man and a woman. This created no small stir and division among the people, some contending in favor of gay marriage and some against. A great strife of words and contest about opinions ensued, with one side accusing the other of being motivated by prejudice and hate, while that side insisted that gay marriage would destroy the very fabric of society.
Joseph was at this time in his fifteenth year. His father's family had been proselyted by Latter-day Saint missionaries, and four of them had joined that church, namely, his mother, Lucy; his brothers Hyrum and Samuel Harrison; and his sister Sophronia. Joseph had been attending meetings of the Methodists as often as occasion would permit; but he too decided to be baptized into the LDS Church, partly for love of his mother and also because the teaching and the community among LDS members gave him a warm feeling.
During this time of great excitement over gay marriage, Joseph's mind was called up to serious reflection and great uneasiness. The Methodists had been divided over issues related to homosexuality, but the leaders of the LDS Church were unanimously and forcefully opposed to gay marriage. There was much preaching on that subject in ward meetings, with members being exhorted to dedicate their time and means to campaign for the proposition that would revise the constitution to ban gay marriage. Outside the church, however, other parties were equally zealous in endeavoring to persuade the public to vote against the proposition. The feelings that each party's arguments evoked in Joseph were deep and poignant. He felt he ought to take direction from the leaders of the church to which he had committed himself; yet it also seemed to him that the campaign against gay marriage had led to the expression of much bad feeling against gay people on the part of church members. But so great were the confusion and strife on this issue that it was impossible for Joseph to come to any certain conclusion who was right and who was wrong, or what he ought to do.
One day, while he was laboring under the difficulties caused by the contests of these parties, Joseph read James 1:5. The passage spoke to his heart with great power. He reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person needed wisdom from God, he did; for how to act, he did not know, and unless he could get more wisdom than he had, he would never know. At length he came to the conclusion that he must either remain in confusion, or else he must do as James directed. He determined to "ask of God," concluding that if God gave wisdom to those who lacked wisdom, and would give liberally, and not upbraid, then he might venture.
In accordance with this determination, he retired to the woods to make the attempt. Having looked around, and finding himself alone, Joseph knelt down and began to offer up the desires of his heart to God.
The first intimation of the spirit of revelation came to him as a sudden stroke of an idea, a feeling of pure intelligence flowing into him. It seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of his heart. He knew as surely as he knew that he lived that the campaign to ban gay marriage was inhumane and unchristian, a work of fear and false traditions. He felt a powerful impression that God was doing away with former things and bringing to pass a new thing, shedding abroad new light and new understanding. That idea seemed delicious to him; it made him feel that his mind was being opened, his views expanded, and his soul enlightened. As the experience came to an end, these feelings faded, but Joseph was no longer in doubt about what he needed to do.
A few days after this experience, Joseph was in the company of the local LDS bishop, who wanted Joseph to join other ward members in going door-to-door urging people to vote for the proposition to ban gay marriage. Joseph told the bishop he could not do that in good conscience, and he gave the bishop an account of the experience he had when he prayed. The bishop treated his experience not only lightly but with contempt, saying that Joseph had plainly received his revelation from the wrong source; that personal revelation must always be measured against the teachings of church leaders; that the duty of members was to prepare themselves so that when the leaders speak, the Holy Ghost can confirm to them that what the leaders are saying is true; that the Lord would never allow church leaders to lead the church astray. The thought came to Joseph that if all this were true, then the apostle James ought to have advised those who seek wisdom, not to ask of God, but to search the teachings of church leaders, since that is where people would have to go in the end anyway to determine if the wisdom they thought they had received from God were truly of God. But Joseph did not want to contend with the bishop, so he said nothing.
Joseph soon found, however, that his telling the story had excited a great deal of prejudice against him in the ward. Other members became distant toward him. Remarks were made from the pulpit regarding the duty to follow church leaders and the arrogance of presuming to know better than those whom God had appointed to receive revelation. Joseph was even called in by the stake president, who warned him that if he spoke out publicly against the campaign to ban same-sex marriage, he could be subjected to discipline, perhaps leading to his being cast out from among the Saints.
This was a cause of great sorrow to Joseph. It caused him serious reflection how strange it was that with so many church members united in support of the campaign, his one voice of dissent should be thought of sufficient importance to attract attention, and in such a manner as to create a spirit of bitterness toward him. But all this did not destroy the reality of Joseph's experience. He knew what the Spirit had communicated to him. He knew it was true, and he knew that God knew it, and he could not deny it, nor could all the world make him think or believe otherwise.
He had now got his mind satisfied as far as this issue was concerned. He did not know how, exactly, the reality of his personal revelation was to be reconciled with the Church's teachings about following the leaders as living prophets. But he knew it was not his duty to join with other church members in support of the proposition to ban gay marriage, but to continue as he was in the confidence that someday there would be greater understanding. He had found the testimony of James to be true—that a person who lacked wisdom might ask of God, and obtain, and not be upbraided. Not upbraided by God, anyway.
************
Some time in the second year after Joseph Smith's family moved to Manchester, there was in the place where he lived an unusual excitement on the subject of gay marriage. The New York Court of Appeals had recently ruled in favor of allowing gays to be married by the state, and many of the sects in that region of the country immediately raised a cry and tumult, calling for the state constitution to be revised so as to restrict marriage to the union of a man and a woman. This created no small stir and division among the people, some contending in favor of gay marriage and some against. A great strife of words and contest about opinions ensued, with one side accusing the other of being motivated by prejudice and hate, while that side insisted that gay marriage would destroy the very fabric of society.
Joseph was at this time in his fifteenth year. His father's family had been proselyted by Latter-day Saint missionaries, and four of them had joined that church, namely, his mother, Lucy; his brothers Hyrum and Samuel Harrison; and his sister Sophronia. Joseph had been attending meetings of the Methodists as often as occasion would permit; but he too decided to be baptized into the LDS Church, partly for love of his mother and also because the teaching and the community among LDS members gave him a warm feeling.
During this time of great excitement over gay marriage, Joseph's mind was called up to serious reflection and great uneasiness. The Methodists had been divided over issues related to homosexuality, but the leaders of the LDS Church were unanimously and forcefully opposed to gay marriage. There was much preaching on that subject in ward meetings, with members being exhorted to dedicate their time and means to campaign for the proposition that would revise the constitution to ban gay marriage. Outside the church, however, other parties were equally zealous in endeavoring to persuade the public to vote against the proposition. The feelings that each party's arguments evoked in Joseph were deep and poignant. He felt he ought to take direction from the leaders of the church to which he had committed himself; yet it also seemed to him that the campaign against gay marriage had led to the expression of much bad feeling against gay people on the part of church members. But so great were the confusion and strife on this issue that it was impossible for Joseph to come to any certain conclusion who was right and who was wrong, or what he ought to do.
One day, while he was laboring under the difficulties caused by the contests of these parties, Joseph read James 1:5. The passage spoke to his heart with great power. He reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person needed wisdom from God, he did; for how to act, he did not know, and unless he could get more wisdom than he had, he would never know. At length he came to the conclusion that he must either remain in confusion, or else he must do as James directed. He determined to "ask of God," concluding that if God gave wisdom to those who lacked wisdom, and would give liberally, and not upbraid, then he might venture.
In accordance with this determination, he retired to the woods to make the attempt. Having looked around, and finding himself alone, Joseph knelt down and began to offer up the desires of his heart to God.
The first intimation of the spirit of revelation came to him as a sudden stroke of an idea, a feeling of pure intelligence flowing into him. It seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of his heart. He knew as surely as he knew that he lived that the campaign to ban gay marriage was inhumane and unchristian, a work of fear and false traditions. He felt a powerful impression that God was doing away with former things and bringing to pass a new thing, shedding abroad new light and new understanding. That idea seemed delicious to him; it made him feel that his mind was being opened, his views expanded, and his soul enlightened. As the experience came to an end, these feelings faded, but Joseph was no longer in doubt about what he needed to do.
A few days after this experience, Joseph was in the company of the local LDS bishop, who wanted Joseph to join other ward members in going door-to-door urging people to vote for the proposition to ban gay marriage. Joseph told the bishop he could not do that in good conscience, and he gave the bishop an account of the experience he had when he prayed. The bishop treated his experience not only lightly but with contempt, saying that Joseph had plainly received his revelation from the wrong source; that personal revelation must always be measured against the teachings of church leaders; that the duty of members was to prepare themselves so that when the leaders speak, the Holy Ghost can confirm to them that what the leaders are saying is true; that the Lord would never allow church leaders to lead the church astray. The thought came to Joseph that if all this were true, then the apostle James ought to have advised those who seek wisdom, not to ask of God, but to search the teachings of church leaders, since that is where people would have to go in the end anyway to determine if the wisdom they thought they had received from God were truly of God. But Joseph did not want to contend with the bishop, so he said nothing.
Joseph soon found, however, that his telling the story had excited a great deal of prejudice against him in the ward. Other members became distant toward him. Remarks were made from the pulpit regarding the duty to follow church leaders and the arrogance of presuming to know better than those whom God had appointed to receive revelation. Joseph was even called in by the stake president, who warned him that if he spoke out publicly against the campaign to ban same-sex marriage, he could be subjected to discipline, perhaps leading to his being cast out from among the Saints.
This was a cause of great sorrow to Joseph. It caused him serious reflection how strange it was that with so many church members united in support of the campaign, his one voice of dissent should be thought of sufficient importance to attract attention, and in such a manner as to create a spirit of bitterness toward him. But all this did not destroy the reality of Joseph's experience. He knew what the Spirit had communicated to him. He knew it was true, and he knew that God knew it, and he could not deny it, nor could all the world make him think or believe otherwise.
He had now got his mind satisfied as far as this issue was concerned. He did not know how, exactly, the reality of his personal revelation was to be reconciled with the Church's teachings about following the leaders as living prophets. But he knew it was not his duty to join with other church members in support of the proposition to ban gay marriage, but to continue as he was in the confidence that someday there would be greater understanding. He had found the testimony of James to be true—that a person who lacked wisdom might ask of God, and obtain, and not be upbraided. Not upbraided by God, anyway.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
D&C 6:20
As I explained in an earlier post, I want to experiment this year with ways of meditating on the scriptures other than through sustained written reflections. This week's reflection is an "icon" I drew based on D&C 6:20, one of the passages in the scripture chain that was the assigned reading for Lesson 2 of the Sunday School curriculum. D&C 6 is a favorite of mine—it contains a number of passages through which the Spirit speaks to me rather powerfully.
I'm not an artist, as you can see; but I hope the image conveys something of what this passage communicates to me emotionally and imaginatively (conceptually).
I'm not an artist, as you can see; but I hope the image conveys something of what this passage communicates to me emotionally and imaginatively (conceptually).
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Richard John Neuhaus has died
A few minutes ago, I was working on a conference paper related to my dissertation research (evangelical interfaith dialogues with Mormons and Catholics), and I popped online to check some biographical info for Richard John Neuhaus—and as I'm looking at the Wikipedia article on him, I suddenly find myself reading a line about his death date. I think, "I didn't know Neuhaus was dead—that must not have happened too long ago." And then it registers that according to what I'm reading, he died January 8, 2009. That's today. He died about three hours ago, and already someone has updated his Wikipedia entry.
Apart from being rather wonderstruck by how quickly information gets disseminated and recorded in the Internet age, I'm feeling this odd sense of . . . I don't know, a little bit of disorientation. My world just changed in a kind of small but permanent way. A man who embodied much of what I oppose about conservative Christian politics, a man whose influence hurt people I identify with (I'm thinking of the academic freedom controversies at BYU), a man who is going to be a peripheral character in my dissertation, is suddenly gone.
I have mixed feelings about that. It's a foretaste, I suppose, of what I will experience when Boyd K. Packer finally dies. There's an embittered part of me that's thinking vindictive, petty things I shouldn't commit to writing. And there's a kind of condescending part of me that feels like I can better afford to be more generous toward him now that he's dead. A more genuinely charitable part of me is conscious that his death is for many people a cause of grief, and a still small voice is chastening me to be sensitive to that.
Whatever I think—thought—of his politics and life's work, Richard Neuhaus has gone home to that God who gave him life, according to Alma 40. I trust, I hope, I think I can even sincerely say that I pray, that he is, as we speak, being enveloped in the arms of God's love. I'm not going to try to pretend that I love him, even in a condescending, wearing-my-love-for-my-enemies-on-my-sleeve kind of way. But his Heavenly Parents love him, and I hope that he is in a position to experience that.
Apart from being rather wonderstruck by how quickly information gets disseminated and recorded in the Internet age, I'm feeling this odd sense of . . . I don't know, a little bit of disorientation. My world just changed in a kind of small but permanent way. A man who embodied much of what I oppose about conservative Christian politics, a man whose influence hurt people I identify with (I'm thinking of the academic freedom controversies at BYU), a man who is going to be a peripheral character in my dissertation, is suddenly gone.
I have mixed feelings about that. It's a foretaste, I suppose, of what I will experience when Boyd K. Packer finally dies. There's an embittered part of me that's thinking vindictive, petty things I shouldn't commit to writing. And there's a kind of condescending part of me that feels like I can better afford to be more generous toward him now that he's dead. A more genuinely charitable part of me is conscious that his death is for many people a cause of grief, and a still small voice is chastening me to be sensitive to that.
Whatever I think—thought—of his politics and life's work, Richard Neuhaus has gone home to that God who gave him life, according to Alma 40. I trust, I hope, I think I can even sincerely say that I pray, that he is, as we speak, being enveloped in the arms of God's love. I'm not going to try to pretend that I love him, even in a condescending, wearing-my-love-for-my-enemies-on-my-sleeve kind of way. But his Heavenly Parents love him, and I hope that he is in a position to experience that.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Epiphany
Today is Epiphany. Liturgically speaking, Christmas officially ended yesterday, January 5 (the proverbial twelfth day of Christmas). Epiphany commemorates the Magi's visit to the Christ Child, taken as symbolic of Christ's revelation as the manifestation of God's love for all people, not only to his own tribe. Given that theme, it strikes me as especially appropriate to be praying on this day for a truce in Gaza.
My eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared before the face of all people—
a light to lighten the Gentiles,
and the glory of your people Israel.
(Luke 2:30-32)
My eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared before the face of all people—
a light to lighten the Gentiles,
and the glory of your people Israel.
(Luke 2:30-32)
Sunday, January 4, 2009
D&C 1: My "hopeview"
Setting aside verse 30—which makes every liberal Mormon squirm and prompts even a good number of progressively orthodox Mormons to do a little interpretive tapdancing to reduce the offense to other Christians—D&C 1 pretty much encapsulates my worldview. Or perhaps I should say more accurately (especially in light of last night's angry, gloomy post about the Israeli ground offensive), it encapsulates my "hopeview."
We're told in this section that the human race has broken God's covenant (v. 15). We are not living in relationship with God and one another in the way God intends. Instead of seeking to "establish [the Lord's] righteousness"—I'm thinking, love of God and neighbor, justice, mercy, Zion—people seek their own interests and material aggrandizement (v. 16). The result is that we are bringing upon ourselves "calamity" (v. 17)—I'm thinking, war, global poverty, economic collapse, environmental degradation. God, knowing this and desiring to prevent it, raises up prophets (vv. 17-18)—an entire community of disciples, actually, who are commissioned and empowered to raise "a voice of warning" to all people (vv. 4-5). Part of that message of warning is that in the day of judgment, we will recieve whatever we have seen fit to mete out to others: "the Lord shall . . . measure to every man according to the measure which he has measured to his fellow man" (v. 10).
Let's linger over vv. 17-18 again. We read that God called on Joseph Smith and gave him commandments—and also to others. It's possible that Smith intends that simply as a reference to the revelations he gave to his followers. But the words are capable of other readings, and I read them as indicating that God has raised up prophetic voices besides Smith in the effort to avert calamity, the large-scale suffering humans inflict on themselves and one another. I'm thinking, say, Oscar Romero. Gustavo Gutierrez. Desmond Tutu. Rachel Carson. Al Gore, annoying though he may be.
In vv. 19-28, we're given a list of objectives, as it were, for the divine work we call the Restoration, this raising up in our time of new prophetic voices and an empowered community of disciples:
We're told in this section that the human race has broken God's covenant (v. 15). We are not living in relationship with God and one another in the way God intends. Instead of seeking to "establish [the Lord's] righteousness"—I'm thinking, love of God and neighbor, justice, mercy, Zion—people seek their own interests and material aggrandizement (v. 16). The result is that we are bringing upon ourselves "calamity" (v. 17)—I'm thinking, war, global poverty, economic collapse, environmental degradation. God, knowing this and desiring to prevent it, raises up prophets (vv. 17-18)—an entire community of disciples, actually, who are commissioned and empowered to raise "a voice of warning" to all people (vv. 4-5). Part of that message of warning is that in the day of judgment, we will recieve whatever we have seen fit to mete out to others: "the Lord shall . . . measure to every man according to the measure which he has measured to his fellow man" (v. 10).
Let's linger over vv. 17-18 again. We read that God called on Joseph Smith and gave him commandments—and also to others. It's possible that Smith intends that simply as a reference to the revelations he gave to his followers. But the words are capable of other readings, and I read them as indicating that God has raised up prophetic voices besides Smith in the effort to avert calamity, the large-scale suffering humans inflict on themselves and one another. I'm thinking, say, Oscar Romero. Gustavo Gutierrez. Desmond Tutu. Rachel Carson. Al Gore, annoying though he may be.
In vv. 19-28, we're given a list of objectives, as it were, for the divine work we call the Restoration, this raising up in our time of new prophetic voices and an empowered community of disciples:
- That the weak things of the world will break down the mighty and strong.
- That everyone might speak in the name of God—that everyone might be an inspired, prophetic mouthpiece.
- That faith—hope, confidence for a better future—will increase on earth.
- That God's covenant will be reestablished—that human beings will live in loving relationship with God and one another in the way we were meant to.
- That the weak and simple will proclaim God's message of judgment and a better way through all the world and particularly to those who govern.
- That by receiving revelation "from time to time," God's servants can grow out of error into greater wisdom, humility, and a more perfect understanding of God's will.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Israeli ground offensive in Gaza
Israel has launched its threatened ground offensive into Gaza. This is going to be very bad—but, of course, Israel's just doing things the American way.
I'm certainly not inclined to take a stand with Hamas. On the other hand, Israel is unquestionably the more powerful force here and had already inflicted the greater number of casualties even before the ground assault began. As I understand the Hebrew Bible—which is one of my sacred texts, too—if we're going to talk about God standing on anyone's side in this conflict, he's not going to be siding with the most powerful.
************
God of the nations—
I feel like I should pray, but I really don't know what to pray for.
Peace. That sounds so f------ hollow.
A pox on both their houses, is more what I'm feeling right now.
I pray for civilians on both sides, but especially for the Palestinians, who are the most vulnerable.
I don't know what the hell it means to pray for that under the circumstances.
I guess I'm saying that I hope deaths and maiming and hunger and damage to houses and hospitals and schools and water mains and other vital infrastructre will be "minimal." Whatever that's supposed to mean.
All right, here's what I want:
I want this conflict to be over right now.
I want Israel to back the f--- off and stop reacting disproportionately to the Palestinian threat in ways that just exacerbate the problem.
I want Palestinians to stop supporting f------ terrorist regimes.
I want militant Arabs and Muslims to accept Israel's right to exist so we can move beyond that already.
I want my country's government to stop funding Israel's military until that country's government shows a real political will for peace and the creation of a Palestinian state.
I'm angry, and swearing, because I find the situation so hopeless.
And I'm feeling so invested in this conflict, as opposed to others, because I know that my country shares responsibility for this mess.
I don't know what good this does, but you're the one who asks us to pray, so here you have it.
In Christ's name, amen.
I'm certainly not inclined to take a stand with Hamas. On the other hand, Israel is unquestionably the more powerful force here and had already inflicted the greater number of casualties even before the ground assault began. As I understand the Hebrew Bible—which is one of my sacred texts, too—if we're going to talk about God standing on anyone's side in this conflict, he's not going to be siding with the most powerful.
************
God of the nations—
I feel like I should pray, but I really don't know what to pray for.
Peace. That sounds so f------ hollow.
A pox on both their houses, is more what I'm feeling right now.
I pray for civilians on both sides, but especially for the Palestinians, who are the most vulnerable.
I don't know what the hell it means to pray for that under the circumstances.
I guess I'm saying that I hope deaths and maiming and hunger and damage to houses and hospitals and schools and water mains and other vital infrastructre will be "minimal." Whatever that's supposed to mean.
All right, here's what I want:
I want this conflict to be over right now.
I want Israel to back the f--- off and stop reacting disproportionately to the Palestinian threat in ways that just exacerbate the problem.
I want Palestinians to stop supporting f------ terrorist regimes.
I want militant Arabs and Muslims to accept Israel's right to exist so we can move beyond that already.
I want my country's government to stop funding Israel's military until that country's government shows a real political will for peace and the creation of a Palestinian state.
I'm angry, and swearing, because I find the situation so hopeless.
And I'm feeling so invested in this conflict, as opposed to others, because I know that my country shares responsibility for this mess.
I don't know what good this does, but you're the one who asks us to pray, so here you have it.
In Christ's name, amen.
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