Moody

I'm feeling moody at the moment, so I'm taking a break from other tasks to do a little journaling. My moodiness is partly worry: Hugo's trapped out-of-town because of car trouble, and we don't yet know what the trouble is (or how expensive it will be).

My mood is also a carry over from last weekend. Two members of the Episcopal church Hugo and I attend here were ordained deacons as the next step in a journey which will end with their becoming priests. That was on Saturday at an old fancy church in Raleigh. On Sunday, there was an outdoor Eucharistic service at a campground where the two new deacons preached and assisted with communion, which was celebrated by a former member of the same congregation who became a priest a couple years back (the same person who created for me the Liahona icon you see on the top of this blog).

It was a homecoming, and the congregation was very happy, and I felt selfishly depressed. Watching these individuals, all of whom I know quite well, move into their vocations reminded me that I do not have a faith community that's willing to help me live out what I perceive to be my vocation. A few weeks ago, I was asked to orchestrate the reading from Acts at the Pentecost service, which in this congregation's tradition involves people reading in multiple languages. I organized something that hadn't been tried in previous years but that I hoped would enrich the spirit of the celebration, and afterwards the vicar asked me if I hadn't been gay, would I have become a Mormon priest. She was assuming that Mormons have a professional clergy, like the Christian groups she knows, so what she was saying was: You seem to have certain pastoral gifts; before you came out and had to leave the Mormon church, did you contemplate entering the ministry? It was a depressing question, and I was reminded of it again last weekend as I watched the new deacons exercise their new roles.

I don't think I've told this story on this blog before, so here goes: In 2001, I did a three-day retreat at a Trappist monastery. Doors that I'd thought had been standing open as options for my future had closed, and I was trying to figure out what God wanted me to do with my life. I had these loves and yearnings—to teach, to go back to the Dominican Republic, to do ministry, to explore new ways to tap into the spiritual resources of Mormonism. What was God trying to tell me about my vocation?

So at one point I'm walking down this snowy road, reflecting, and all of a sudden the question comes into my head: What would you ideally like to be doing, if you could do anything? And I knew immediately what the answer was: I would like to be a full-time missioner, like I'd seen in other denominations, working in the Dominican Republic, helping to build up the LDS Church, which in my imagination was more like a liberal Christian church. That, I thought, is what I yearn to do. That's my calling. And of course, it's a calling that can never be.

Whether I would actually have the skills and the stamina to do the kind of full-time missioner work I was envisioning is a whole different question—and working through that question is what discernment of vocation is all about. But the point of this story is: I realized at that moment that I yearned to do with my life something that I simply couldn't do because the possibilities just didn't exist. You might think that would be a depressing realization, but it was actually liberating. I didn't have to wonder anymore what these yearnings of mine were calling me to do. I knew—and I knew I couldn't have it. And I'm hardly the first person to live and die in this world yearning for opportunities they simply couldn't have. Think of all the women suffragists who didn't live to see the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment. Think of all the slaves who never obtained the freedom they dreamed of. Etc., etc., etc.

So the pressure's off. My task now is simply to find little ways to lay the foundation for a day when, hopefully, someone who wants the things I want will have realistic possiblities for achieving them. Maybe that day won't come. But the hope by which I live—as in "faith, hope, and charity"—is that God can somehow make the little seeds I sow grow into something else.

Which doesn't, however, stop me from indulging in a narcisstic self-pity about the fact that other people do get their wishes. Last weekend, I started a moody little prayer about my dreams deferred, but then I stopped and thought: Oh for God's sake, John-Charles, pull your nose out of your navel and pray for people whom life has really robbed.

My prayers are with Hugo, dealing with this mess with the car. One of my nephews was baptized this weekend. My mother continues to be slowly devoured alive by the tumors taking over her body. I derive an angry, dark, helpless satisfaction from the thought that when the resurrection comes, she will rise again, but the tumors will not. We may not be able to keep you from taking her down now, you s.o.b's, but someday we are going to take her back. Now is all you get.

This is what prophecy looks like

I was reminded of the street theater of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel.



UPDATE: Ancient scriptures (for that matter, modern LDS scriptures) leave us the names of far too few female prophets, so I should name this one. An NPR new story identified her for me as "Diane Wilson, a 61-year-old fourth-generation fisher from Seadrift, Texas, near the Gulf Coast." God bless her for her courage.

Wo to BP...

...and to the corrupt federal officials who collaborated in their deception. Kudos to the AP's Justin Pritchard, Tamara Lush, and Holbrook Mohr for doing what journalists should be doing: digging through the bull**** shoveled out at us by the powerful to uncover truth. Their exposé of BP's bogus spill response plan and risk assessment is here.

I really am trying to cut back on this kind of ranting, but the ongoing disaster in the Gulf is too infuriating. So here goes:

Wo to those who are deceivers,
for thus says the Lord:
I will bring them to judgment.
(D&C 50:6)

Let's see heads roll already!

A spiritual fellowship in exile

Lord, you have commanded us to call upon you,
so that from you we may receive according to our desires.
(Ether 3:2)

Those who have been scattered shall be gathered.
(D&C 101:13)

I have a desire—a vision, if you will. On this Pentecost, the day that liturgical Christians commemorate the pouring out of the Spirit on the body of believers, I want to lay this desire before God publicly in the hope that there may be others out there, within the sound of my online voice, who share this desire. Despite the optimism of the verse from Ether I quoted above, I know that we don’t always receive according to our desires. So perhaps my vision will never be anything more than a pipe dream. But for what it may be worth, I offer the following.

I envision a spiritual fellowship of Mormons in exile. It’s nothing as organized as a "church" (or as preoccupied with questions of ecclesiastical authority). It’s a fellowship, or a loose network of local fellowships, composed of people from the LDS tradition who remain committed to Mormons symbols, texts, and practices as means of encountering God, but who are alienated from the conservative-dominated institutional church.

This fellowship exists to worship together. This is a spiritual fellowship. It’s not a therapeutic support group or an intellectual study group. Members come together to be nourished by the good word of God, to fast and pray, to speak with one another concerning the welfare of their souls, to partake of bread and wine in remembrance of the Lord Jesus (Moroni 6:4-6).

This fellowship offers the full range of Mormon ritual practice. This fellowship in exile believes it is empowered to perform cherished Mormon rituals for its members, independent of LDS Church authorities: baptism, the sacrament, baby blessings, health blessings, patriarchal/evangelist’s blessings, sealings, the endowment, priesthood ordination if that’s something the fellowship decides to do.

This fellowship explores the untapped possibilities of Mormon tradition. The fellowship’s primary goal is to discern what the Spirit has to teach them through Mormon texts and practices. Because Mormon tradition includes an invitation to embrace truth wherever it is to be found, the fellowship might embrace teachings, practices, symbols, music, etc., from other traditions as these seem to resonate with aspects of Mormon tradition. But the fellowship is distinctively, centrally, richly Mormon in character. It isn’t a fellowship of people who are in the process of moving into some other tradition or for whom Mormonism is just one of a number of traditions from which they mix and match. If a Jewish analogy makes sense to you, what I’m envisioning is Reconstructionist Mormonism, not Reform Mormonism.

This fellowship seeks innovative ways to understand and live Mormon tradition. In response to the invitation to conduct their meetings according to the promptings of the Spirit (Moroni 6:9), the fellowship experiments with different worship styles—liturgical, contemplative, charismatic, contemporary. They write new songs, or chants, or liturgies, based on Mormon texts. They forge new traditions for commemorating events in Mormon sacred history or for sacralizing major life events. They find imaginative ways to enact gospel principles such as service and consecration. Acting in the faith that God unfolds truth line on line, precept on precept (2 Nephi 28:30), in ways adapted to our limited understanding (D&C 1:24), the fellowship develops new ways of reading and interpreting the LDS scriptures, and they revise rituals and other traditions to reflect changes in their theology.

This fellowship operates democratically—ideally, by consensus. This fellowship is not for would-be prophets in search of a following, nor for followers in search of a new prophet. Discerning God’s will for the group is the privilege and responsibility of all members of the fellowship, equally and collectively. There is no hierarchy of authority, except to the extent that the fellowship may agree to temporarily delegate certain responsibilities to individuals as “stewardships.”

This fellowship does not insist on the historicity of Mormon claims. My personal preference would be to see the fellowship simply reject historicity, but at least they should develop ways of engaging with Mormon scripture and ritual that don’t depend on historicity—that don’t depend, in other words, on the Book of Mormon being an ancient document, or on the literal, historical reality of priesthood restoration, or the resurrection, or the Atonement, or pre-existence, etc. The fellowship is prepared to welcome those who approach these traditional teachings as symbolic rather than literal truth.

This fellowship is committed to the full, equal participation of women and of GLBT people. Among other things, this means rejecting a male-only priesthood. What to do instead is a question on which the fellowship will have to arrive at some kind of common consent. I’m prepared to adopt a radically “Protestant” position: In baptism, we take upon ourselves the name of Christ; thus all baptized people are empowered to act in the name of Christ, which is the same power that priesthood ordination is supposed to confer. Priesthood ordination is therefore entirely superfluous, although it may offer practical benefits as a way of organizing an institution. The fellowship might agree on a less radical solution than this, but somehow the fellowship needs to break down exclusions based on gender.


I want to reiterate: What I’m envisioning here is a fellowship in exile from the LDS Church. This is not a fellowship of people who are hoping to reform the LDS Church from within. This fellowship is not worried about staying within the bounds of what LDS authorities would find tolerable or about avoiding offense to orthodox sensibilities. It’s a fellowship of people who are prepared to follow the Spirit wherever they decide, collectively, that it is leading them—with the understanding that what they are asking to Spirit to teach them is how to more creatively use the resources made available to us in the Mormon tradition.

Maybe there’s no one out there interested in this vision. Maybe it’s just a quirky, idiosyncratic dream of my own. I often suspect that the majority of Mormons—conservative or liberal—aren’t as passionate about devotional practice as I am; their attachment to Mormonism has more to do with social bonds, or heritage, or intellect. (Or maybe that suspicion is just a kind of arrogance on my part.) Possibly most Mormons who have become as theologically liberal as this vision requires have also moved beyond such an exclusive interest in Mormonism as this vision requires. But I’m going to keep operating on the assumption—the faith, the hope—that someday, somewhere, a fellowship like this might come into being.

The first thing I want to do is develop a new version of the endowment, with which I have been in love since I was first endowed in 1991. I’m creating this new endowment in the faith that someday there will be a community to whom I can take it and say, “Shall we try it out?”—and they’ll read it, discuss it, revise it, perform it, discuss it again, develop yet other versions that innovate in different ways. I’ll be working on this in my Sabbath reflection time, little by little, over the next several months, I would imagine. So I may not post to the blog as regularly for a while, though I’m sure I’ll want to post in response to current events that strike my nerves, and I may post updates to the new endowment project as it comes along.

Helaman 5, edited

For today's Sabbath reflection, I'm posting an edited version of the story of Nephi and Lehi in prison, from Helaman 5. This edit follows the same priniciples as the edit of 1 Nephi 1 I posted earlier: I excerpted phrases to whittle the chapter down to a basic narrative core, then I did some light stylistic edits, mostly to make the language less archaic.

The one major license I took is that I replaced the word "repent" with the word "turn." The idea of "turning" or "re-turning" toward God is at the heart of one of the words used to convey repentance in the Hebrew Bible. I liked the way that word resonated with how the text later has Aminadab and the Lamanites turn to look at Nephi and Lehi. (Watch for it as you read.)

I've shared my reflections on this Book of Mormon story in an earlier post. Next Sunday is Pentecost, so the story strikes me as thematically appropriate for the season.

************

Nephi and his brother Lehi went out to teach the word of God.
They were taken by an army of the Lamanites and thrown into prison.
After they had been imprisoned many days,
the Lamanites came to take them to be killed.

But Nephi and Lehi were encircled as if by fire,
so that the Lamanites did not dare to lay hands on them.
When Nephi and Lehi saw that they were encircled by a pillar of fire,
and that it did not burn them,
their hearts took courage.
But the Lamanites stood dumb with amazement.

The earth shook, and the walls of the prison trembled
as if they were about to tumble, but they did not fall.
The Lamanites were overshadowed with a cloud of darkness,
and an awful fear came upon them.

There came a Voice as if from above the cloud of darkness.
It said, “Turn, turn.”
It was not a voice of thunder or tumultuous noise
but a voice of perfect mildness, like a whisper.
Yet it pierced the soul,
and the earth shook, and the walls of the prison trembled.

The Voice came again: “Turn, turn.”
Again the earth shook, and the walls trembled.

The Voice came a third time.
It spoke to them marvelous words that no human being can utter.
The earth shook, and the walls trembled.
But the Lamanites could not flee
because of the cloud of darkness that overshadowed them
and the fear that paralyzed them.

There was one among them who was a Nephite by birth,
who had once belonged to the church of God.
He turned and saw, through the cloud of darkness,
the faces of Nephi and Lehi—
they shone like the faces of angels.
They had their eyes lifted to heaven,
and they appeared to be talking to some being whom they saw.

This man cried to the crowd to turn and look.
They were given the power to turn,
and they too saw the faces of Nephi and Lehi.

They said to the man: “Who are these men talking with?”
The man’s name was Aminadab.
He said: “They are talking with the angels of God.”

The Lamanites said to him: “What should we do
so that this cloud of darkness may be removed from us?”
Aminadab said to them: “Cry to the Voice.”

So they all began to cry to the Voice—
they cried until the cloud of darkness was dispersed.
When they looked around,
they saw that they were encircled, every one, by a pillar of fire.
They were filled with unspeakable joy.
The Spirit of God came down from heaven and entered their hearts;
they were filled as if with fire,
and they could speak marvelous words.

There came a Voice—a pleasant voice, like a whisper.
It said: “Peace, peace be to you.”

They lifted their eyes to see where the Voice came from.
They saw the heavens open, and angels came down and ministered to them.

There were about three hundred souls who saw and heard these things.
They went out and ministered to the people in all the surrounding regions.

Priesthood restoration

Today is the anniversary of the date on which, according to Mormon tradition, the priesthood restoration began with John the Baptist's visit to Oliver Cowdery and Joseph Smith. For me, this is a day to reflect on the commission that all Latter-day Saints have received—irrespective of gender or ordination to any particular office—to carry out the work of God in the world.

Magnify the calling to which I have called you,
and the mission with which I have commissioned you.
(D&C 88:80)

And what is our calling and mission?

To share others' burdens so that they may be light,
to mourn with those who mourn,
to comfort those who stand in need of comfort (Mosiah 18:8-9);
to succor the weak,
to lift up the hands that hang down,
to strengthen the feeble knees (D&C 81:5);
to feed the hungry,
to clothe the naked,
to visit the sick and administer to their relief, both spiritually and temporally (Mosiah 4:26);
to plead the cause of the poor and needy (D&C 124:75);
to declare the truth with a loud voice, with a sound of rejoicing (D&C 19:37);
to do the works we have seen Jesus do (3 Nephi 27:21).

************

God of holiness—

You have made me a priest after the order, and in the likeness, of your Son.
You have commissioned me to do your work and to help enact your vision for creation.
You have called me to serve you by serving my fellow beings.

I want to serve you more faithfully and effectively.
I don't want to be a hypocrite who basks in a sense of satisfaction and fulfilment derived from knowing that you've called me to a mission, but who's stingy and lazy about actually going out and opening myself up to people and their needs, and giving up time and money and energy to serve.
I don't want to be that, but I confess that's what I am.

Give me the grace to serve you better.
Please keep calling to me, even though I don't pay attention like I should.
Please keep working in me. Fill me with the love of Christ.

I praise you, and give thanks, for the people I know who serve as examples of faithful service.
Bless their labors, and give them strength and comfort.

In Christ's name, amen.

Calling God "Mother"

An interesting thing happened at the Advocate today. In connection with Mothers Day, the vicar invited us to participate in an experiment in which we referred to God as Mother instead of Father, Christ as Daughter instead of Son, Queen instead of King, Her instead of Him, etc. The point was to pay attention to our reactions as we did this. Were we comfortable calling God "Mother"? Why or why not? Since Episcopalians don't understand God as a physical being with a penis, it's not self-evident that God needs to be spoken of as male (though of course theological conservatives offer various explanations as to why we should). In an open-ended way, the vicar was inviting the congregation to reflect on why people seem to find it so uncomfortable to speak of God as female.

On this blog, I tend to favor gender-neutral language for God, though I'll refer to God as male or female or both ("Heavenly Father and Mother") as I feel moved by the Spirit in a given context. I don't believe literally that God has a physical body and therefore a gender, though the icon of God as such a being is extremely important to me—one of the things I prize about the LDS tradition that's lacking in other Christian traditions. As we went through the service today plugging in female language where the prayer book and the hymns come with male language, I found it meaningful to recite the Nicene Creed with God as "the Mother, the Almighty," or to begin the Lord's Prayer with "Our Mother in heaven, hallowed be your name." When they started calling Christ "Daughter," or to say "she" in reference to Jesus, I found that distracting, for aesthetic reasons more than theological ones. At LiberalMormon.net, I've made the case for there being resources in the LDS tradition that let us envision Christ as female, and on this blog I've used gender-neutral language when speaking of Christ as a heavenly being or the incarnation of God. But when we start talking about Jesus as a mortal being, that's the point at which I'm just going to say "he."

It was an interesting experiment, though, adding a new dimension to today's worship. When I blessed the sacrament for myself today, I decided to continue the experiment. So the sacrament prayers (which I normally recite in a tweaked version anyway to trim out archaic King James language) came out like this:

O God, Eternal Mother,
we ask you in the name of your Child, Jesus Christ,
to bless and sanctify this bread
to the souls of all those who partake of it,
that they may eat in remembrance of the body of your Child,
and witness to you, O God, Eternal Mother,
that they are willing to take upon them the name of your Child,
and always remember him,
and keep his commandments which he has given them,
that they may always have his Spirit to be with them.

O God, Eternal Mother,
we ask you in the name of your Child, Jesus Christ,
to bless and sanctify this wine
to the souls of all those who drink of it,
that they may do it in remembrance of the blood of your Child,
which was shed for them;
that they may witness to you, O God, Eternal Mother,
that they do always remember him,
that they may have his Spirit to be with them.

BTW, if you find it artificially p.c. to refer to Christ as God's "Child," that language actually appears in Moroni 8:3.