Michael W. Hannon's article "Against Heterosexuality" seems to be making the rounds in gay Mormon social media. (Interesting enough, since the author is a prospective Catholic priest who builds a major part of his argument on the writings of French gay atheist and social critic Michel Foucault. That's probably the main reason this article is making the rounds.)
My
take on this is that you can't, in one breath, say: "Marriage is
ordained of God," or "we are all spirit sons and daughters of God," and
in the next breath talk about "the lie of essentialism." Religious
conservatives who want to use "social construction" theory as an
argument against same-sex marriage are sowing the wind. If anything it's proof that a new social consensus about homosexuality and same-sex
marriage is emerging, and they know it, because social construction
theory is best used as a wrecking ball to tear down a social consensus
you don't like. That's why sex radicals in the 1960s latched on to
social construction theory in the first place.
If
you wanted to consistently use social construction theory as a lens for
understanding current debates about sexuality and marriage, you would
be just as obliged to acknowledge this:
Individuals
who -- by a personal discernment process best described as sacred -- have recognized
themselves to be gay or lesbian, are brokering a
covenant with the broader society in which they agree to apply broadly
accepted ethical principles to their relationships, and the broader
society -- by democratic, constitutional means including electoral,
legislative, and judicial processes, also best described
as sacred -- are in the process of ratifying the proposed social
covenant, because they recognize that it is in the interests of the
greater good.
Showing posts with label Ponderings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ponderings. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
The Gay Mormon Ten Commandments
1. Thou shalt rest assured that I, the Lord thy God, do love thee with a fierce and unconditional love, for I have created thee as thou art and have redeemed thee at great personal cost, and will never abandon thee. Thou shalt not permit anyone to convince thee that anything in earth or heaven could ever come between thee and my love.
3. Thou shalt not be misled by those who use my name in vain, claiming that I the Lord God hate thee and condemn thee or that I consider thee an abomination. They are full of it, sayeth the Lord, and I will not hold them guiltless for thus taking my name in vain.
4. Remember that there is always someone worse off than thee, and do something to make the world a better place for them. It's not all about thee. And if thou do this, all thy days shall be holy.
5. Love and honor thy father and thy mother, for they do love thee more than thou dost know, even when they don't always act like it; and have patience with them in the days of thy coming out that thou and they might live long upon the land together and enjoy a loving, full relationship with each other some day.
6. Thou shalt not kill thyself. For, thus saith the Lord, things do get better.
7. Thou shalt work for marriage equality, for it is pleasing to the Lord and will be pleasing to thee that love be given and received in the framework of everlasting commitment. And it is pleasing to the Lord that thou be held to the same standards of fidelity as thy heterosexual brothers and sisters.
8. Thou shalt come out of the closet, that thy younger and more vulnerable gay brothers and sisters might have hope and wax in confidence, that they may not kill themselves but live long upon the land, seeing thy good example.
9. Thou shalt not out thy brother or sister, nor steal from them the right and privilege of coming out on their own timetable, to whom they are ready, when they are ready.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy heterosexual neighbor's respectability and heterosexual privilege.
2. Thou shalt not worship convention or respectability, holding the opinions of others higher than truth or love. Thou shalt not idolize body image or materialism, or any other worldly stuff that distracts thee from what is really important in life.
4. Remember that there is always someone worse off than thee, and do something to make the world a better place for them. It's not all about thee. And if thou do this, all thy days shall be holy.
5. Love and honor thy father and thy mother, for they do love thee more than thou dost know, even when they don't always act like it; and have patience with them in the days of thy coming out that thou and they might live long upon the land together and enjoy a loving, full relationship with each other some day.
6. Thou shalt not kill thyself. For, thus saith the Lord, things do get better.
7. Thou shalt work for marriage equality, for it is pleasing to the Lord and will be pleasing to thee that love be given and received in the framework of everlasting commitment. And it is pleasing to the Lord that thou be held to the same standards of fidelity as thy heterosexual brothers and sisters.
8. Thou shalt come out of the closet, that thy younger and more vulnerable gay brothers and sisters might have hope and wax in confidence, that they may not kill themselves but live long upon the land, seeing thy good example.
9. Thou shalt not out thy brother or sister, nor steal from them the right and privilege of coming out on their own timetable, to whom they are ready, when they are ready.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy heterosexual neighbor's respectability and heterosexual privilege.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Silence
The other day I was having a chat with a friend about my experience exploring a Roman Catholic monastic order. I spent the summer of 1988 at a monastery run by the Order of St. John in Le Creusot, France (in my former mission field) because I wanted to explore what it might mean to live my life as a celibate gay man.
That particular order had a rule of general silence. It's not that talking was against the rules, but the monks were encouraged to keep silence except in specifically mandated situations. For instance, it was OK to have very open discussion during classes where we were studying the scriptures together. After meals on Sunday, conversation and socializing was also allowed. But generally, you observed silence.
At the monastery, the monks slept in a kind of dormitory. You had your own private cell. You showered and washed in a common bathroom where there were private shower stalls. You ate in a common area, and spent most of your day in group activities (working on a potato farm owned by the monastery, participating in matins, vespers, and other devotionals, scripture study, etc.). But you didn't do a lot of talking.
My friend seemed sort of surprised as I described this. He asked me, "Could you ever invite invite another monk to your dormitory cell and have one on one conversations?" I replied that it wouldn't have surprised me if that was against the rules. Even if it wasn't, I didn't think that would be a general practice. The monks took their commitment to celibacy seriously, and I am sure they would have been aware of the temptations associated with privately entertaining someone in your bedroom.
I think my friend wondered if a life without intimate conversation wouldn't be a life without intimacy, a life of loneliness.
What I can say from my (admittedly short) experience of this, though, is that silence is actually more conducive to intimacy than conversation. We often use conversation as a shield or a mask. We can use talk to put on a persona or to distance people from us. Silence is, oddly, more congenial to truth.
To me, there was something very powerfully intimate about kneeling silently with someone in prayer, or working silently side-by-side with someone in a field. The intimacy comes through your common work and commitments, and just being together. Under the right circumstances, there is also a special kind of intimacy that comes from observing the mutually agreed upon physical and spiritual boundaries associated with a commitment to celibacy.
It wasn't a calling that I ultimately felt called to, but I am extremely grateful I had that experience, and I'm grateful for what it taught me about the power of silence.
That particular order had a rule of general silence. It's not that talking was against the rules, but the monks were encouraged to keep silence except in specifically mandated situations. For instance, it was OK to have very open discussion during classes where we were studying the scriptures together. After meals on Sunday, conversation and socializing was also allowed. But generally, you observed silence.
At the monastery, the monks slept in a kind of dormitory. You had your own private cell. You showered and washed in a common bathroom where there were private shower stalls. You ate in a common area, and spent most of your day in group activities (working on a potato farm owned by the monastery, participating in matins, vespers, and other devotionals, scripture study, etc.). But you didn't do a lot of talking.
My friend seemed sort of surprised as I described this. He asked me, "Could you ever invite invite another monk to your dormitory cell and have one on one conversations?" I replied that it wouldn't have surprised me if that was against the rules. Even if it wasn't, I didn't think that would be a general practice. The monks took their commitment to celibacy seriously, and I am sure they would have been aware of the temptations associated with privately entertaining someone in your bedroom.
I think my friend wondered if a life without intimate conversation wouldn't be a life without intimacy, a life of loneliness.
What I can say from my (admittedly short) experience of this, though, is that silence is actually more conducive to intimacy than conversation. We often use conversation as a shield or a mask. We can use talk to put on a persona or to distance people from us. Silence is, oddly, more congenial to truth.
To me, there was something very powerfully intimate about kneeling silently with someone in prayer, or working silently side-by-side with someone in a field. The intimacy comes through your common work and commitments, and just being together. Under the right circumstances, there is also a special kind of intimacy that comes from observing the mutually agreed upon physical and spiritual boundaries associated with a commitment to celibacy.
It wasn't a calling that I ultimately felt called to, but I am extremely grateful I had that experience, and I'm grateful for what it taught me about the power of silence.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
My Peace I Give Unto You
I've been thinking lately of these comforting words of Jesus to his disciples:
My friend Andrew recently posted over at Wheat & Tares, and also on his own blog about the argument made by a Christian minister (not Mormon) that America is essentially giving in to gay marriage because Americans have become too concerned with happiness.
Just to be clear here -- this minister thinks the American concern with happiness is a bad thing, and the rising acceptance of gay marriage is only proof of just how bad it is. Which I find rather odd, given that every American school child knows that our nation was founded on the right to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."
Now, before unpacking this, it's important to draw out the fact that for Christians in general, and certainly for Mormons in particular, there are different kinds of happiness. (I've blogged about this before.)
Even in a very worldly, secular sense, everybody understands the difference between long-term and short-term happiness. We understand that there are things that might gratify us in the short-term, but that eventually down the road exact a price of us we might be unwilling to pay, and that might, in the end, leave us unhappy. We also understand that there are degrees of happiness: certain things in life that grant us a certain delight, but that we would never trade for other things in life that give us a more profound, lasting happiness. So someone who is at least worldly wise can understand the value of deferred gratification and sacrifice in favor of some greater good, in favor of some greatest happiness that outweighs other, more fleeting kinds of happiness.
Now in a Christian context, we understand that the end -- the telos -- of created existence is union with God. We see that union as the very highest good of all, as the very meaning of our existence, and as the greatest source of all our happiness. So no matter how much happiness something gives us in any given frame, if it has the end result of denying us that union with God, it will taste like ashes in the ultimate frame.
Note that I've specifically avoided the terminology "in the here and now" vs. the "hereafter." Because respectable Christian theology -- Christian theology that is not a sham or a manipulative bait -- acknowledges that that ultimate happiness of union with the Divine is available to us right here, right now, in our every day existence. Anyone who tells you you can't experience that fullness of joy in this life is trying to manipulate you into buying something. And I'm here to tell you: Don't Buy It.
A Christian life has value because it enables us to access that deepest of all deep happinesses. And I can testify from personal experience, that the happiness offered by union with the Divine is resilient. It will keep us grounded through the very worst of the worst adversity that life can throw at us. We can be very, very unhappy in a worldly sense. And here I'm using the term "unhappy" in the very worldly sense of being "unfortunate." We can be sick or hungry or homeless or alone or in prison -- all very unfortunate, very unhappy states. And yet, we can be profoundly happy. A Christian who is devoid of the outward trappings of happiness can be profoundly happy and profoundly grateful. As long as you are alive, you can always be grateful for the air in your lungs, for the heart beating in your chest, for the very possibility that life itself offers you, no matter how desperate your circumstances. And through faith, the one thing the vicissitudes of life can never deny you is union with God; and compared with that great happiness, the rest is just... The rest.
That's what Jesus meant when he said, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matt. 6:33). The house, the car, the wife, the kids, the job, the nice neighborhood, the money. Those are "things" that are added. They can be taken away too, as Job acknowledged: "Who can hinder him? who will say unto him, What doest thou?" (Job 9:12). What counts is the seeking the kingdom. Receiving the peace that Christ gives as opposed to the peace that the world gives.
So Mormons have some great texts about happiness, and how it's the purpose of our existence and the goal of our life. We love those scriptures from the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine & Covenants that remind us of the fullness of joy that God means us to have as a birthright. But Mormons also understand what kind of joy we're talking about when we quote texts like "men (and women too!) are that they might have joy."
So now we can come back (again) to the whole question of happiness and homosexuality, and whether the twain can meet.
And here's the problem, I think as confronted by our Christian minister friend. If we believe homosexuality to be a sin (and it doesn't matter how big or small a sin we believe it to be, because in the ultimate analysis no matter how small the sin, a sin is a sin and will cut us off from God), then what do we make of homosexual happiness?
If we find a person in a same-sex relationship who is happy (and trust me, there are very, very many of us who are), that is not a theological problem, necessarily, for someone who believes homosexuality to be a sin. Because it is easy enough to explain away homosexual happiness as that fleeting, worldly happiness that doesn't light a candle to the depth of happiness that comes from union with God.
But, what do we make of a person in a same-sex relationship who experiences union with God? Many devout Christians don't believe that possible. So if you have a gay or lesbian person in a same-sex relationship who claims to experience the presence of the Spirit (or to have had even more transcendent experiences!), and who claims to find him- or herself tapping into that deeper reservoir of joy that comes from a daily communion with God, that poses a problem. So a devout Christian who believes that homosexual relationships are by definition sinful and therefore alienating from God must disallow that possibility. No homosexual in a same-sex relationship can have that kind of happiness.
At one point, the problem from my angle was that I couldn't know what kind of happiness other people experience. I know very well the breath-taking happiness that swells inside my own breast. I understand in my experience a kind of hierarchy of happinesses. I understand the happiness I receive from my communion with God, from the presence of the Spirit, as the foundation of all my other happinesses. But very close to that foundational happiness, that core of happiness I find as a never-ending spring in God, is my happiness in my marriage to my partner. He is a source of never-ending fascination and joy to me. His happiness brightens my happiness; his sadness darkens it. And further out are other happinesses: the happiness of having a son, of having wider family and friends, of community; of having work and purpose in life. And having a wealth of material blessings, and so on. I could count blessings all day. Way furthest out, on the outer darkness edge of my happiness is the joy I get from my brand new iPhone. If I dropped my iPhone in the street and it got run over by a car, I would feel a slight twinge of regret, but it would tarnish my overall happiness level not an iota.
But you get the picture. I think I have a clear understanding of what matters in life; in my internal spiritual and emotional life I have a picture of the world and of my own happiness in it that seems to map to the kinds of Christian happiness that other people describe themselves having. But I don't know what goes on in someone else's heart or head. I can't experience life except in my own flesh. That's a basic existential problem the philosophers have spilled a lot of ink over.
So when someone tells me: "You are a homosexual sinner who can't possibly experience the depth of happiness that I, a heterosexual in a righteous relationship experience," I can't really know whether what they're telling me is true or not.
I can know that I am deeply, profoundly happy. I can know that the happiness I derive from my relationship with my husband seems intimately connected to the happiness I experience in my relationship with God, because my relationship with my partner affords me opportunities for service, sacrifice, and caring, all things that bring me closer to God. I can know that I find such profound happiness in my relationship with my husband that I would never willingly leave it.
But I can't know if or how my happiness compares to someone else's. And it used to worry me that those who said I couldn't possibly be as happy as they were might be right.
But I've learned to get over that, largely because of my relationship with God. When I worry about those kinds of things, God reassures me that those kinds of comparisons are pointless and perhaps even sinful. And there's plenty of scriptural testimony to that effect.
I understand that the happiness I derive from my husband is a happiness that could be taken away from me. I don't like to think about those kinds of possibilities. But I acknowledge it. And I even trust that if I were to suddenly lose my life partner that God would be there for me, sustaining me through that loss. And I know that the love and joy and sustenance I find in my relationship with God is the one happiness that can never be taken away from me.
There is a happiness I yearn for that is very close to the happiness I find in God, and that is the happiness that would come from being a member of Jesus Christ's Church. But ultimately, the happiness I find in God trumps even that. God has reminded me that it's not my fault that the Church won't have me. I've been strongly incentivized by God to stay as close to the Church as possible; to attend it as often as possible; to live as many of its precepts and teachings as possible. God has made it clear to me that these kinds of efforts are the efforts I'm expected to make if I love him. And I do love him, so I do make them. Still, I would like to take the sacrament. I would like to go the temple. I would like to hold a calling. At some level, those things are unhappinesses in my life. But my joy in Christ allows me to endure that unhappiness with a certain amount of equanimity and patience.
So, I've resolved certain doubts for myself, though I guess my joy is still a problem for those of you out there who are convinced beyond a reasonable shadow of doubt that I am a terrible sinner. And I guess some Christian ministers will feel obligated to exercise themselves over it, lest I (and other happy homosexuals) offer a bad example to those who can still be saved from lives of false happiness. Some might even feel that their only recourse is to deny that happiness has anything to do with the meaning of life.
Plenty have also felt obligated to judge, and plenty more will, I am sure, as time goes on. In their minds I must be either terribly deceived, or a liar of the first magnitude. My blog is littered with occasional calls to repentance, and I'm happy to leave them there as little historic reminders of the road we're all traveling together.
I know there are far more others out there who, like me, are perplexed. Lots of questions that need answering. Lots of pain unresolved.
But somewhere, deep down, there's peace. That's what keeps me going.
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. (John 14: 27)In my mind, I've been cross-referencing it with:
Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy. (2 Nephi 2: 25)
My friend Andrew recently posted over at Wheat & Tares, and also on his own blog about the argument made by a Christian minister (not Mormon) that America is essentially giving in to gay marriage because Americans have become too concerned with happiness.
Just to be clear here -- this minister thinks the American concern with happiness is a bad thing, and the rising acceptance of gay marriage is only proof of just how bad it is. Which I find rather odd, given that every American school child knows that our nation was founded on the right to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."
Now, before unpacking this, it's important to draw out the fact that for Christians in general, and certainly for Mormons in particular, there are different kinds of happiness. (I've blogged about this before.)
Even in a very worldly, secular sense, everybody understands the difference between long-term and short-term happiness. We understand that there are things that might gratify us in the short-term, but that eventually down the road exact a price of us we might be unwilling to pay, and that might, in the end, leave us unhappy. We also understand that there are degrees of happiness: certain things in life that grant us a certain delight, but that we would never trade for other things in life that give us a more profound, lasting happiness. So someone who is at least worldly wise can understand the value of deferred gratification and sacrifice in favor of some greater good, in favor of some greatest happiness that outweighs other, more fleeting kinds of happiness.
Now in a Christian context, we understand that the end -- the telos -- of created existence is union with God. We see that union as the very highest good of all, as the very meaning of our existence, and as the greatest source of all our happiness. So no matter how much happiness something gives us in any given frame, if it has the end result of denying us that union with God, it will taste like ashes in the ultimate frame.
Note that I've specifically avoided the terminology "in the here and now" vs. the "hereafter." Because respectable Christian theology -- Christian theology that is not a sham or a manipulative bait -- acknowledges that that ultimate happiness of union with the Divine is available to us right here, right now, in our every day existence. Anyone who tells you you can't experience that fullness of joy in this life is trying to manipulate you into buying something. And I'm here to tell you: Don't Buy It.
A Christian life has value because it enables us to access that deepest of all deep happinesses. And I can testify from personal experience, that the happiness offered by union with the Divine is resilient. It will keep us grounded through the very worst of the worst adversity that life can throw at us. We can be very, very unhappy in a worldly sense. And here I'm using the term "unhappy" in the very worldly sense of being "unfortunate." We can be sick or hungry or homeless or alone or in prison -- all very unfortunate, very unhappy states. And yet, we can be profoundly happy. A Christian who is devoid of the outward trappings of happiness can be profoundly happy and profoundly grateful. As long as you are alive, you can always be grateful for the air in your lungs, for the heart beating in your chest, for the very possibility that life itself offers you, no matter how desperate your circumstances. And through faith, the one thing the vicissitudes of life can never deny you is union with God; and compared with that great happiness, the rest is just... The rest.
That's what Jesus meant when he said, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matt. 6:33). The house, the car, the wife, the kids, the job, the nice neighborhood, the money. Those are "things" that are added. They can be taken away too, as Job acknowledged: "Who can hinder him? who will say unto him, What doest thou?" (Job 9:12). What counts is the seeking the kingdom. Receiving the peace that Christ gives as opposed to the peace that the world gives.
So Mormons have some great texts about happiness, and how it's the purpose of our existence and the goal of our life. We love those scriptures from the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine & Covenants that remind us of the fullness of joy that God means us to have as a birthright. But Mormons also understand what kind of joy we're talking about when we quote texts like "men (and women too!) are that they might have joy."
So now we can come back (again) to the whole question of happiness and homosexuality, and whether the twain can meet.
And here's the problem, I think as confronted by our Christian minister friend. If we believe homosexuality to be a sin (and it doesn't matter how big or small a sin we believe it to be, because in the ultimate analysis no matter how small the sin, a sin is a sin and will cut us off from God), then what do we make of homosexual happiness?
If we find a person in a same-sex relationship who is happy (and trust me, there are very, very many of us who are), that is not a theological problem, necessarily, for someone who believes homosexuality to be a sin. Because it is easy enough to explain away homosexual happiness as that fleeting, worldly happiness that doesn't light a candle to the depth of happiness that comes from union with God.
But, what do we make of a person in a same-sex relationship who experiences union with God? Many devout Christians don't believe that possible. So if you have a gay or lesbian person in a same-sex relationship who claims to experience the presence of the Spirit (or to have had even more transcendent experiences!), and who claims to find him- or herself tapping into that deeper reservoir of joy that comes from a daily communion with God, that poses a problem. So a devout Christian who believes that homosexual relationships are by definition sinful and therefore alienating from God must disallow that possibility. No homosexual in a same-sex relationship can have that kind of happiness.
At one point, the problem from my angle was that I couldn't know what kind of happiness other people experience. I know very well the breath-taking happiness that swells inside my own breast. I understand in my experience a kind of hierarchy of happinesses. I understand the happiness I receive from my communion with God, from the presence of the Spirit, as the foundation of all my other happinesses. But very close to that foundational happiness, that core of happiness I find as a never-ending spring in God, is my happiness in my marriage to my partner. He is a source of never-ending fascination and joy to me. His happiness brightens my happiness; his sadness darkens it. And further out are other happinesses: the happiness of having a son, of having wider family and friends, of community; of having work and purpose in life. And having a wealth of material blessings, and so on. I could count blessings all day. Way furthest out, on the outer darkness edge of my happiness is the joy I get from my brand new iPhone. If I dropped my iPhone in the street and it got run over by a car, I would feel a slight twinge of regret, but it would tarnish my overall happiness level not an iota.
But you get the picture. I think I have a clear understanding of what matters in life; in my internal spiritual and emotional life I have a picture of the world and of my own happiness in it that seems to map to the kinds of Christian happiness that other people describe themselves having. But I don't know what goes on in someone else's heart or head. I can't experience life except in my own flesh. That's a basic existential problem the philosophers have spilled a lot of ink over.
So when someone tells me: "You are a homosexual sinner who can't possibly experience the depth of happiness that I, a heterosexual in a righteous relationship experience," I can't really know whether what they're telling me is true or not.
I can know that I am deeply, profoundly happy. I can know that the happiness I derive from my relationship with my husband seems intimately connected to the happiness I experience in my relationship with God, because my relationship with my partner affords me opportunities for service, sacrifice, and caring, all things that bring me closer to God. I can know that I find such profound happiness in my relationship with my husband that I would never willingly leave it.
But I can't know if or how my happiness compares to someone else's. And it used to worry me that those who said I couldn't possibly be as happy as they were might be right.
But I've learned to get over that, largely because of my relationship with God. When I worry about those kinds of things, God reassures me that those kinds of comparisons are pointless and perhaps even sinful. And there's plenty of scriptural testimony to that effect.
I understand that the happiness I derive from my husband is a happiness that could be taken away from me. I don't like to think about those kinds of possibilities. But I acknowledge it. And I even trust that if I were to suddenly lose my life partner that God would be there for me, sustaining me through that loss. And I know that the love and joy and sustenance I find in my relationship with God is the one happiness that can never be taken away from me.
There is a happiness I yearn for that is very close to the happiness I find in God, and that is the happiness that would come from being a member of Jesus Christ's Church. But ultimately, the happiness I find in God trumps even that. God has reminded me that it's not my fault that the Church won't have me. I've been strongly incentivized by God to stay as close to the Church as possible; to attend it as often as possible; to live as many of its precepts and teachings as possible. God has made it clear to me that these kinds of efforts are the efforts I'm expected to make if I love him. And I do love him, so I do make them. Still, I would like to take the sacrament. I would like to go the temple. I would like to hold a calling. At some level, those things are unhappinesses in my life. But my joy in Christ allows me to endure that unhappiness with a certain amount of equanimity and patience.
So, I've resolved certain doubts for myself, though I guess my joy is still a problem for those of you out there who are convinced beyond a reasonable shadow of doubt that I am a terrible sinner. And I guess some Christian ministers will feel obligated to exercise themselves over it, lest I (and other happy homosexuals) offer a bad example to those who can still be saved from lives of false happiness. Some might even feel that their only recourse is to deny that happiness has anything to do with the meaning of life.
Plenty have also felt obligated to judge, and plenty more will, I am sure, as time goes on. In their minds I must be either terribly deceived, or a liar of the first magnitude. My blog is littered with occasional calls to repentance, and I'm happy to leave them there as little historic reminders of the road we're all traveling together.
I know there are far more others out there who, like me, are perplexed. Lots of questions that need answering. Lots of pain unresolved.
But somewhere, deep down, there's peace. That's what keeps me going.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Help from The Help
Göran and I watched this movie last night, one of the films we put on our list of post-Oscars must-sees. Here's my favorite quote from the whole film:
God says we need to love our enemies, though it's hard to do. But it can start by telling the truth. No one had ever asked me what it felt like to be me. Once I told the truth about that, I felt free.
Friday, November 4, 2011
And Should I Die Before I Wake...
Today I had my annual physical.
I always very much enjoy these, partly because I use it as an occasion for reflection, not just on my state of physical health but on my state of spiritual health as well. I like that my doctor asks me very broad questions -- about how things are going at home, with my spouse and our foster son, my activities, my diet, my emotional state. He asks me about eating enough veggies and brushing my teeth and wearing seat belts and bike helmets. He asks me about sex. He wants to know how I feel about myself, my sense of self-worth. I like that he's not just taking blood and urine and feeling my lymph nodes, but that he sees my health as being interconnected with everything I do and am in life.
It's the closest I get to anything like a worthiness interview. As I reflected on the questions my doctor asked me, I found me asking myself some worthiness-type questions. I found myself reflecting on my state of spiritual health. Lately I have found myself wishing I could have formal Church worthiness interviews. If an annual or bi-annual physical is a good idea, why not an annual or bi-annual spiritual? I guess it's assumed -- at least from the point of view of Church policy -- that because I am in a committed same-sex relationship there's no point in ever checking in on my state of spiritual welfare. (It's hard to avoid feeling like that's a statement that I'm hopeless/worthless/not worth the time and trouble, as long as I'm in a same-sex relationship? As a point of spiritual health, I try not to dwell on thoughts like that.) But that certainly puts it on me to conduct regular self-exams, I guess.
But I digress...
Today, as the nurse was taking blood and urine samples, she asked me if I had a written "Health Care Directive." I asked her what this was, and she said it was a written statement about what kind of treatment I would like in the event that I am unconscious or unable to communicate or unable to make decisions for myself.
I told her that, no, I didn't have a written Health Care Directive.
She asked me if I'd like more information about preparing one, and I said I did. So now I'm looking at this form that asks a bunch of really hard questions.
Now, part of the problem answering these questions is that I would be basing my answers on a lot of suppositions about an experience that I simply have never had. It's fine and good for me to say now, "If I have a terminal illness, I don't want you to take any measures to revive me if I have a heart attack." I can say that now, but how can I possibly know that's how I will feel when I'm actually in that situation? Wouldn't it be possible -- likely even! -- that no matter how I actually feel about this in some vague philosophical sense now, that once I'm actually in that situation I might have a completely different perspective of the problem, and change my mind?
I remember having conversations with my mom about this when I was a kid. My mom was a nurse for many years, and a very good one. She actually worked in a kid's terminal ward at one point. And she's witnessed people of all ages passing away. And so I felt like she had some special insight about this. From my mom I've inherited the conviction that when God is ready for me to die, there are no special measures that anyone will be able to take to prevent me from dying. I will die. But in the meantime, if God has put the knowledge and means at our disposal to preserve life, we should take them no matter what.
I also spent a fair amount of time with my grandmother in the last years of her life. Grandma lived to what we generally think of as extreme old age. She died at the age of 102. And even though it was difficult for her to communicate toward the end, the time I spent with her was a gift. Her life was a gift to her whole family, right up until the very end. And I came away from that feeling that life is always a good thing, even under diminished circumstances.
But then, I wasn't in Grandma's shoes. I wasn't on a feeding tube and oxygen. I know it was extremely difficult for her. I know she missed Grandpa, and was really anxious to rejoin him on the other side of the veil. And I know how important physical activity and exercise were to her, and how difficult it was for her in those last months when she couldn't even walk. She was getting lung infections from the feeding tube, and I know at least one family member who thought we should have taken her off it.
I don't know.
I'll be thinking about these questions in the next days and weeks, and probably putting together a written health directive. I'm curious if others have thought about this, and if any of you have any ideas... I'm open here, trying to figure things out. Any insights that anyone has would be much appreciated...
I always very much enjoy these, partly because I use it as an occasion for reflection, not just on my state of physical health but on my state of spiritual health as well. I like that my doctor asks me very broad questions -- about how things are going at home, with my spouse and our foster son, my activities, my diet, my emotional state. He asks me about eating enough veggies and brushing my teeth and wearing seat belts and bike helmets. He asks me about sex. He wants to know how I feel about myself, my sense of self-worth. I like that he's not just taking blood and urine and feeling my lymph nodes, but that he sees my health as being interconnected with everything I do and am in life.
It's the closest I get to anything like a worthiness interview. As I reflected on the questions my doctor asked me, I found me asking myself some worthiness-type questions. I found myself reflecting on my state of spiritual health. Lately I have found myself wishing I could have formal Church worthiness interviews. If an annual or bi-annual physical is a good idea, why not an annual or bi-annual spiritual? I guess it's assumed -- at least from the point of view of Church policy -- that because I am in a committed same-sex relationship there's no point in ever checking in on my state of spiritual welfare. (It's hard to avoid feeling like that's a statement that I'm hopeless/worthless/not worth the time and trouble, as long as I'm in a same-sex relationship? As a point of spiritual health, I try not to dwell on thoughts like that.) But that certainly puts it on me to conduct regular self-exams, I guess.
But I digress...
Today, as the nurse was taking blood and urine samples, she asked me if I had a written "Health Care Directive." I asked her what this was, and she said it was a written statement about what kind of treatment I would like in the event that I am unconscious or unable to communicate or unable to make decisions for myself.
I told her that, no, I didn't have a written Health Care Directive.
She asked me if I'd like more information about preparing one, and I said I did. So now I'm looking at this form that asks a bunch of really hard questions.
Now, part of the problem answering these questions is that I would be basing my answers on a lot of suppositions about an experience that I simply have never had. It's fine and good for me to say now, "If I have a terminal illness, I don't want you to take any measures to revive me if I have a heart attack." I can say that now, but how can I possibly know that's how I will feel when I'm actually in that situation? Wouldn't it be possible -- likely even! -- that no matter how I actually feel about this in some vague philosophical sense now, that once I'm actually in that situation I might have a completely different perspective of the problem, and change my mind?
I remember having conversations with my mom about this when I was a kid. My mom was a nurse for many years, and a very good one. She actually worked in a kid's terminal ward at one point. And she's witnessed people of all ages passing away. And so I felt like she had some special insight about this. From my mom I've inherited the conviction that when God is ready for me to die, there are no special measures that anyone will be able to take to prevent me from dying. I will die. But in the meantime, if God has put the knowledge and means at our disposal to preserve life, we should take them no matter what.
I also spent a fair amount of time with my grandmother in the last years of her life. Grandma lived to what we generally think of as extreme old age. She died at the age of 102. And even though it was difficult for her to communicate toward the end, the time I spent with her was a gift. Her life was a gift to her whole family, right up until the very end. And I came away from that feeling that life is always a good thing, even under diminished circumstances.
But then, I wasn't in Grandma's shoes. I wasn't on a feeding tube and oxygen. I know it was extremely difficult for her. I know she missed Grandpa, and was really anxious to rejoin him on the other side of the veil. And I know how important physical activity and exercise were to her, and how difficult it was for her in those last months when she couldn't even walk. She was getting lung infections from the feeding tube, and I know at least one family member who thought we should have taken her off it.
I don't know.
I'll be thinking about these questions in the next days and weeks, and probably putting together a written health directive. I'm curious if others have thought about this, and if any of you have any ideas... I'm open here, trying to figure things out. Any insights that anyone has would be much appreciated...
Friday, October 21, 2011
Of Veils and Tests
I once had an interesting philosophical discussion with my brother about the nature of moral tests.
I have, over the years, come to the conclusion that many of the moral tests we face here in this life are tests in which God deliberately keeps us in the dark about certain things, to see how we will respond if we think things are a certain way.
I've expressed this idea to my brother, a philosopher who teaches at University of California Riverside, and he has taken issue with me. He told me that without complete disclosure, without full knowledge of the conditions of a moral test, we cannot truly be tested. God will judge us and judge our moral decisions based on what we knew at the time that we were being tested.
Now, I like my brother's idea. It certainly appeals to my sense of justice. It doesn't seem fair that we should be judged on the basis of decisions that we made without complete knowledge. Or if we are judged, our lack of knowledge when we made those decisions needs to be taken into account. It needs to mitigate the final results of the judgment.
Nevertheless... While I believe there certainly are the kinds of moral tests my brother speaks of in this life, I cling to the nagging suspicion that tests of this sort are actually fairly rare. My reasons for insisting that God tests us by keeping us in the dark about certain key things and watching to see how we behave are philosophical, experiential and scriptural.
My philosophical reason for believing this is based on the simple fact that the human condition is governed by ignorance. Compare, first of all, the total knowledge of any one individual -- even a very smart and well-educated individual -- to the sum total of human knowledge. Take everything that person thinks he or she knows, and filter out all misinformation. That person will know only the smallest fraction of everything it is humanly possible to know, everything that human beings, collectively as a race, know. Now compare the sum total, the collective knowledge of all human beings who have ever lived, everything that is gathered in every book that has ever been written, everything that's stored somewhere on the Internet (filter out all the misinformation! which probably ends up deleting something like 99%), and then compare it to the sum total of everything that can be known. All truth that is out there in the Universe to know, past, present and future. (This is the D&C 93: 24 definition of "truth.") If we believe in an omniscient God, that would be, basically, everything that God knows. And I think we must agree that the collective knowledge of humanity is only a small fraction of the truth of all things. So any given individual -- the person who is making all important moral decisions in life, the person who is being tested -- is making every single moral decision of any consequence based on the tiniest fraction of the tiniest fraction of the truth. From a purely philosophical perspective, one must conclude that human beings as decision-makers decide mostly in the dark.
You might argue, Ah, but the moral decisions that I make are of limited scope! They are limited to things and people and interactions that are well within the scope of my knowledge, no matter how limited that knowledge may, in the grand scheme of things, be. Yes, But... I would argue that there are certain things that we don't know, that we can't know, that have a huge impact on moral decisions even of limited scope. For example, what happens to me after I die? What do I know of this? My brother's favorite philosopher, Heidegger, has had a lot to say about what we can and cannot know of this, and of the impact that this lack of knowledge has on moral decisions. If I knew that my life would completely end at death, if I knew that there was no part of me that continued on, no immortal soul, that would completely change how I behave in fundamental ways, across the board. The same is true of how it would change my moral choices if I knew that there was life after death, if I knew my soul was eternal, if I knew there would be some kind of final judgment before the throne of Christ. Most people act as if they know, but they in fact don't know. So the moral test is conducted in conditions of ignorance.
Is it that part of the moral test involves seeing which set of unproven assumptions we are willing to go on? Is it to allow us to set the terms of our own test...? But I digress...
My experiential reason for believing this is simply because of what I know about my own moral decisions. I know at some fundamental level that I go through life making the bulk of my decisions based on gut feelings about things. I often discover that things I thought I knew, that played an important role in making some past decision of considerable weight were actually just plain wrong. I am often forced to make a decision quickly because there's some time limit built into the decision, and I am often in a situation in which a decision that must be made now would be much easier if I had certain facts at my disposal, and despite my best efforts to obtain those facts, I don't have them, and so... I make a decision. Based on a guess about what those all important facts are or how they will unfold to me at some future time. I'm often aware that information I would like to have, I simply cannot obtain. And so I must intuit, and go from there.
My experience, in other words, seems to confirm what I posit philosophically... That I am a being of limited knowledge and limited intelligence, who am forced to make decisions very much in the dark about things of ultimate relevance to my decisions.
I have also observed that, while I often make decisions in the dark, the consequence of any decision I make is to obtain more light. I've learned that life decisions are very often a kind of trial and error process. And it is possible to look at life as something whose end goal is, after all, not to judge us, but to educate us. So every decision, bad or good, that I make is, well, all good. It's all part of the process of getting more and more hands-on learning. But I digress again... (or do I?)
Finally, there are my scriptural reasons for believing this. And here I've already somewhat laid the groundwork for this by pointing out that philosophically we posit that we live mostly in the dark, but the scriptures purport to be a source of divinely inspired light. From a philosophical point of view, I might ask, "But how can I know that the scriptures are what they purport to be? How can I know they are true?" I'll leave that weighty philosophical question aside for the moment, and say that by my own process I've come to accept the scriptures as trustworthy.
LDS scriptures in particular present a picture of the human condition in which the state of darkness we posit philosophically and confirm experientially was intended by God. According to the scriptural account of mortal life, we all entered this life by way of a veil of forgetfulness. And we are separated from ultimate knowledge of God and eternity by a veil that -- though occasionally briefly parted -- for the most part remains firmly in place. God purposely set it up this way. God purposely thought that the best way to test us would be to see what we do and how we react when knowledge of ultimate truth is veiled from us.
Now we can choose to try to live close to the veil. That is generally what I try to do. I've had some really remarkable spiritual experiences. I've experienced at least a partial parting of the veil on numerous occasions. I can say, based on those experiences, that there is a different state of awareness when we are in the midst of experiencing that parting of the veil than there is before or after the parting. In the midst of that experience of the divine, it is like dwelling in pure light. There is nothing like it. It is life-changing. After the experience is over, we are in darkness again. We still have the memory of the light; of how it made us feel, of how it transformed our awareness, and of how it transformed us. But in the absence of that experience, we are forced to live off of its memory. We are plunged into the darkness again, and are forced to make our way in the dark. So the parting of the veil doesn't alleviate us of the basic conditions of mortal life. We still need to struggle with doubt and darkness. And this is why it is possible to see and experience incredible things, and to eventually turn away from what we've experienced. We can lose our grace. We can lose our testimonies. Unless we continue in prayer, faith, good works and repentance.
*****
Now, I think this is generally a disquieting thing to reflect on. It requires humility of us. Humility as in: I don't know, so I won't judge you. Just do the best you can do. I will try to do the best that I can do. We're all doing the best we can here, under difficult circumstances.
I find there's a natural human tendency to want to deny that there are important things that we need to know that we just don't or can't. There's a natural human tendency to want to deny that we could well be wrong about everything that matters, everything that's important. To acknowledge that possibility, forces us to live in a certain way that, I think, is more gentle, is more careful, is more compassionate. But we generally prefer certainty (and the arrogance that comes with it).
So Mormons -- despite what our scriptures teach us about the conditions of mortality -- have a tendency to want to insist that we of course know all the answers. And if we personally don't have a direct pipeline to God, our leaders do. "Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets," etc. The typical exegesis of this Amos text goes: "We have living prophets, so we know all of God's secrets, if we just do exactly what they tell us." Well, OK. But I think another valid exegesis of this is to confirm what I've said about living close to the veil. Yes, God parts the veil for us occasionally. But this doesn't change the fundamental conditions of the test of mortality. Making decisions in uncertainty.
I have, over the years, come to the conclusion that many of the moral tests we face here in this life are tests in which God deliberately keeps us in the dark about certain things, to see how we will respond if we think things are a certain way.
I've expressed this idea to my brother, a philosopher who teaches at University of California Riverside, and he has taken issue with me. He told me that without complete disclosure, without full knowledge of the conditions of a moral test, we cannot truly be tested. God will judge us and judge our moral decisions based on what we knew at the time that we were being tested.
Now, I like my brother's idea. It certainly appeals to my sense of justice. It doesn't seem fair that we should be judged on the basis of decisions that we made without complete knowledge. Or if we are judged, our lack of knowledge when we made those decisions needs to be taken into account. It needs to mitigate the final results of the judgment.
Nevertheless... While I believe there certainly are the kinds of moral tests my brother speaks of in this life, I cling to the nagging suspicion that tests of this sort are actually fairly rare. My reasons for insisting that God tests us by keeping us in the dark about certain key things and watching to see how we behave are philosophical, experiential and scriptural.
My philosophical reason for believing this is based on the simple fact that the human condition is governed by ignorance. Compare, first of all, the total knowledge of any one individual -- even a very smart and well-educated individual -- to the sum total of human knowledge. Take everything that person thinks he or she knows, and filter out all misinformation. That person will know only the smallest fraction of everything it is humanly possible to know, everything that human beings, collectively as a race, know. Now compare the sum total, the collective knowledge of all human beings who have ever lived, everything that is gathered in every book that has ever been written, everything that's stored somewhere on the Internet (filter out all the misinformation! which probably ends up deleting something like 99%), and then compare it to the sum total of everything that can be known. All truth that is out there in the Universe to know, past, present and future. (This is the D&C 93: 24 definition of "truth.") If we believe in an omniscient God, that would be, basically, everything that God knows. And I think we must agree that the collective knowledge of humanity is only a small fraction of the truth of all things. So any given individual -- the person who is making all important moral decisions in life, the person who is being tested -- is making every single moral decision of any consequence based on the tiniest fraction of the tiniest fraction of the truth. From a purely philosophical perspective, one must conclude that human beings as decision-makers decide mostly in the dark.
You might argue, Ah, but the moral decisions that I make are of limited scope! They are limited to things and people and interactions that are well within the scope of my knowledge, no matter how limited that knowledge may, in the grand scheme of things, be. Yes, But... I would argue that there are certain things that we don't know, that we can't know, that have a huge impact on moral decisions even of limited scope. For example, what happens to me after I die? What do I know of this? My brother's favorite philosopher, Heidegger, has had a lot to say about what we can and cannot know of this, and of the impact that this lack of knowledge has on moral decisions. If I knew that my life would completely end at death, if I knew that there was no part of me that continued on, no immortal soul, that would completely change how I behave in fundamental ways, across the board. The same is true of how it would change my moral choices if I knew that there was life after death, if I knew my soul was eternal, if I knew there would be some kind of final judgment before the throne of Christ. Most people act as if they know, but they in fact don't know. So the moral test is conducted in conditions of ignorance.
Is it that part of the moral test involves seeing which set of unproven assumptions we are willing to go on? Is it to allow us to set the terms of our own test...? But I digress...
My experiential reason for believing this is simply because of what I know about my own moral decisions. I know at some fundamental level that I go through life making the bulk of my decisions based on gut feelings about things. I often discover that things I thought I knew, that played an important role in making some past decision of considerable weight were actually just plain wrong. I am often forced to make a decision quickly because there's some time limit built into the decision, and I am often in a situation in which a decision that must be made now would be much easier if I had certain facts at my disposal, and despite my best efforts to obtain those facts, I don't have them, and so... I make a decision. Based on a guess about what those all important facts are or how they will unfold to me at some future time. I'm often aware that information I would like to have, I simply cannot obtain. And so I must intuit, and go from there.
My experience, in other words, seems to confirm what I posit philosophically... That I am a being of limited knowledge and limited intelligence, who am forced to make decisions very much in the dark about things of ultimate relevance to my decisions.
I have also observed that, while I often make decisions in the dark, the consequence of any decision I make is to obtain more light. I've learned that life decisions are very often a kind of trial and error process. And it is possible to look at life as something whose end goal is, after all, not to judge us, but to educate us. So every decision, bad or good, that I make is, well, all good. It's all part of the process of getting more and more hands-on learning. But I digress again... (or do I?)
Finally, there are my scriptural reasons for believing this. And here I've already somewhat laid the groundwork for this by pointing out that philosophically we posit that we live mostly in the dark, but the scriptures purport to be a source of divinely inspired light. From a philosophical point of view, I might ask, "But how can I know that the scriptures are what they purport to be? How can I know they are true?" I'll leave that weighty philosophical question aside for the moment, and say that by my own process I've come to accept the scriptures as trustworthy.
LDS scriptures in particular present a picture of the human condition in which the state of darkness we posit philosophically and confirm experientially was intended by God. According to the scriptural account of mortal life, we all entered this life by way of a veil of forgetfulness. And we are separated from ultimate knowledge of God and eternity by a veil that -- though occasionally briefly parted -- for the most part remains firmly in place. God purposely set it up this way. God purposely thought that the best way to test us would be to see what we do and how we react when knowledge of ultimate truth is veiled from us.
Now we can choose to try to live close to the veil. That is generally what I try to do. I've had some really remarkable spiritual experiences. I've experienced at least a partial parting of the veil on numerous occasions. I can say, based on those experiences, that there is a different state of awareness when we are in the midst of experiencing that parting of the veil than there is before or after the parting. In the midst of that experience of the divine, it is like dwelling in pure light. There is nothing like it. It is life-changing. After the experience is over, we are in darkness again. We still have the memory of the light; of how it made us feel, of how it transformed our awareness, and of how it transformed us. But in the absence of that experience, we are forced to live off of its memory. We are plunged into the darkness again, and are forced to make our way in the dark. So the parting of the veil doesn't alleviate us of the basic conditions of mortal life. We still need to struggle with doubt and darkness. And this is why it is possible to see and experience incredible things, and to eventually turn away from what we've experienced. We can lose our grace. We can lose our testimonies. Unless we continue in prayer, faith, good works and repentance.
*****
Now, I think this is generally a disquieting thing to reflect on. It requires humility of us. Humility as in: I don't know, so I won't judge you. Just do the best you can do. I will try to do the best that I can do. We're all doing the best we can here, under difficult circumstances.
I find there's a natural human tendency to want to deny that there are important things that we need to know that we just don't or can't. There's a natural human tendency to want to deny that we could well be wrong about everything that matters, everything that's important. To acknowledge that possibility, forces us to live in a certain way that, I think, is more gentle, is more careful, is more compassionate. But we generally prefer certainty (and the arrogance that comes with it).
So Mormons -- despite what our scriptures teach us about the conditions of mortality -- have a tendency to want to insist that we of course know all the answers. And if we personally don't have a direct pipeline to God, our leaders do. "Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets," etc. The typical exegesis of this Amos text goes: "We have living prophets, so we know all of God's secrets, if we just do exactly what they tell us." Well, OK. But I think another valid exegesis of this is to confirm what I've said about living close to the veil. Yes, God parts the veil for us occasionally. But this doesn't change the fundamental conditions of the test of mortality. Making decisions in uncertainty.
I was reading this morning in the Book of Mark, chapter 6. And there was a particular turn of phrase that caught me, in verses 51-52. These verses were speaking of the twelve, and they say: "they were sore amazed in themselves beyond measure, and wondered. For they considered not the miracle of the loaves: for their heart was hardened." In other words, even though the twelve had -- just the previous day! -- experienced the miracle of the loaves and the fishes, they had already forgotten, or perhaps even never understood, its significance. Now the twelve were Christ's chosen leaders, the leaders of his Church, and here is as clear a statement as any that even they did not fully understand something crucial about Christ's nature and about his mission.
What particularly intrigued me though was the turn of phrase, "their heart was hardened," which reminds me of the story of Moses and Pharaoh, and that disquieting phrase repeated several times in Exodus that "the Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart." There are definitely texts in the Old Testament as well as the New that suggest that God sometimes keeps certain information from us in order to accomplish some grander purpose. God wanted to demonstrate that it was by his power, and his power alone, that the children of Israel were freed from slavery in Egypt. So God hardened Pharaoh's heart, so that Pharaoh would make things as difficult as possible. Only then would the conditions be right for God to liberate the children of Israel in a way that they always and forever would acknowledge that it was God and God alone who freed them.
Similarly, Christ's true nature and his true mission seem to have been veiled from the minds and hearts of the apostles. There were momentary partings of the veil, as when Peter, James and John witnessed the transfiguration. But even these temporary partings eventually faded into the uncertainty of memory. The twelve were genuinely shocked, overwhelmed, and surprised when Christ appeared to them alive and resplendent, three days after they had buried him in the tomb.
*****
I have often had a discussion with other Mohos about the challenges of being gay and Mormon. I have stated elsewhere, and I'll state here again, that I've had numerous very powerful spiritual experiences in which I have plead with God to help me understand why I am gay and how that fits into his plan. And I've received personal revelations on this score that have helped ground me in my path. They haven't answered all my questions; nor do they alleviate me of the responsibility of struggling in the dark, so to speak. But I do feel certain that my gayness is an integral part of my eternal being; that it is a natural and very good part of who I am, and that my relationship with my husband Göran is blessed by God; and that someday, we will all have a full understanding of how my gayness and my family fit into the grand scheme of things. This has been of great comfort to me.
And I am not the only one who has had these kinds of experiences. Over the years, I have been able to connect with other gay LDS -- and even non-LDS -- who have had similar spiritual experiences.
But then comes the question: If we know this, how is it our leaders don't know? How come the Church still treats us as unclean? How come the Church says that our homosexuality is a mortal affliction that will somehow evaporate in the next life, so we need to remain alone, celibate and single in this life to avoid the pollution that comes from homosexual relationships? How can the Church's official teaching and understanding be so at odds with our experience? And if I have a testimony, how am I supposed to deal with this contradiction?
All I can say is that scripturally, there is precedent for the Lord veiling our understanding in a variety of ways. Just as the Lord had a purpose in veiling his true identity and mission from the twelve until he was ready to fully reveal it after his resurrection, the Lord, I believe, has a purpose in veiling understanding of this aspect of human sexuality from the Church until such time as we -- collectively -- are ready to receive a full understanding of it.
In the meantime, lives are in the balance. Individual gay men and lesbians have lost their lives over this -- are losing their lives over this -- because of the intense pain and uncertainty created by the Church's condemnation of something that feels not at all like a temporary, mortal "affliction" to us, but like a core and good and key part of who we are. So we have an immediate need for understanding and knowledge on this. And I think that if we try to live "close to the veil," if we humbly seek understanding from the Lord on this, we will receive what we need in order to live and thrive and fulfill whatever missions the Lord has individually for us to fulfill. So I guess that's a way of trying to resolve the contradiction.
Could I be wrong about this? Well, part of the whole point of this essay is that, yes, absolutely I could be! Nothing, no personal revelation certainly, could alleviate me of the fundamental conditions of the tests of mortality, which involves walking mostly in darkness by faith. I'm doing the best I can to find as much light as I can and to live by it. And I find that the love and the light I have experienced in my relationship with my husband and in being true to him and caring for him nurture hope and faith and patience in me. And I find that the love and the light I experience at Church and in staying as true as I can to the Gospel also open things up in my life, they help me to be a better, more loving, more patient person overall. So I can say that it feels right to affirm both my testimony of the Gospel and my relationship with my husband together, simultaneously, as part of a whole. But I may yet learn many great and amazing things that will totally change my perception of everything. So I have to learn to accept my limitations with some humility and openness and patience and trust that God will unveil things to us in a way that will work toward some ultimate good.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Temptation
The urge to disobey rules which have been externally, coercively imposed is not temptation, it is resistance. Temptation is only comprehensible within the framework of covenants freely entered into. In order for a covenant to have meaning, it must not only be freely entered into, but with full knowledge of the nature of the covenant. When two parties enter into an agreement, and one party fails to provide critical information that would change the nature of the agreement and that might, if disclosed, dissuade the other party from entering into the agreement, that is not a covenant. That is a fraud. But when we have all the information necessary to make a particular covenant, and when we freely agree to abide by that covenant, then and only then can we experience temptation.
Oscar Wilde famously said: "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." But a life without temptation, and without resistance to temptation is a life without meaning, without growth, without structure, and ultimately without joy. That is because the promises we make, make us! When we make a promise, any promise, the very nature of it means we will sooner or later encounter a situation where it might be temporarily advantageous to abandon our promise. If it weren't so, there would be no need to make a promise! And it is those situations where the seriousness of our promises is tested. It is those situations where we get to see how much we really meant what we said, and whether we are the kind of people who are able to keep promises. When we succeed at these kinds of tests, we begin to build character. Our life begins to take a form that is shaped by our intentions, our desire and ultimately, our love.
So temptation is a good thing! When we experience it, we know that we are making something of ourselves! We are choosing, and being true to our choices. Nothing is more tragic than a life in which we drift along, never letting anything more than the contingencies of each moment determine our choices. Granted, there is a kind of freedom we can experience as drifters. It can feel good to let go of everything, to hold on to nothing, to let life take us where it will, like a leaf on the current. Maybe we all need to experience that kind of freedom at least for a time. But eventually we learn that a life lived too long without commitments is a life devoid of the deepest satisfactions. That's what Mormons think of as a "telestial" life. But even the liberal UCC prays for God to protect us from a life of "aimlessness and sin."
Temptation can be painful. But if you think about it, the more painful the temptation, the better it is at shaping our character. It is the really, really painful temptations that force us to decide what it is we really want in life. And we can only surmount such temptations with a grander view of ourselves and our life's purpose. That's why prayer, meditation and scripture study are so important. Any kind of spiritual practice is, effectively, a urim and thummim to us. It helps us see ourselves and our world in a larger, more timeless perspective, a perspective that will provide us the knowledge necessary to make the kinds of promises worth making...!
When we experience temptation, we sometimes feel dirty, we feel bad. We feel as if we must be weak or immoral to experience temptation. It is not so. Temptation means only that we are alive, and that we are on a journey that is worth going on!
I said earlier that temptation is only meaningful within the framework of covenants, and that covenants can only be made under conditions of knowledgeable consent. All of us, if we live long enough, will have the experience of making a commitment under one circumstance, only later to learn and to grow and to acquire knowledge that sheds new light on our circumstances and our promises. This is a natural process, and it is a good process. In a religious framework, we can look at this in terms of lower laws and higher laws; telestial laws, terestrial laws, and celestial laws. We begin at one place, and we make a series of promises within a more limited framework. And those promises shape our character, allowing us to grow and learn. Eventually, we come to a point where the old promises no longer make sense. New knowledge requires renegotiation. We enter into and accept higher laws and make higher covenants which become a new framework for character growth. The times of transition can be disorienting. They can even feel very much like times of temptation. But they are something of a different order entirely.
But wherever we are in the journey, temptation does not leave us. If anything, temptations become more challenging and more painful as we become more sensitive to the nuances of choice available to us, and as we become capable of handling greater challenges... We don't need to seek temptation; indeed, it's usually wise for us to pray for God to keep us from it for as long as possible. But temptations will come, and when they do, we should ultimately be grateful for them. I know I am.
Oscar Wilde famously said: "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." But a life without temptation, and without resistance to temptation is a life without meaning, without growth, without structure, and ultimately without joy. That is because the promises we make, make us! When we make a promise, any promise, the very nature of it means we will sooner or later encounter a situation where it might be temporarily advantageous to abandon our promise. If it weren't so, there would be no need to make a promise! And it is those situations where the seriousness of our promises is tested. It is those situations where we get to see how much we really meant what we said, and whether we are the kind of people who are able to keep promises. When we succeed at these kinds of tests, we begin to build character. Our life begins to take a form that is shaped by our intentions, our desire and ultimately, our love.
So temptation is a good thing! When we experience it, we know that we are making something of ourselves! We are choosing, and being true to our choices. Nothing is more tragic than a life in which we drift along, never letting anything more than the contingencies of each moment determine our choices. Granted, there is a kind of freedom we can experience as drifters. It can feel good to let go of everything, to hold on to nothing, to let life take us where it will, like a leaf on the current. Maybe we all need to experience that kind of freedom at least for a time. But eventually we learn that a life lived too long without commitments is a life devoid of the deepest satisfactions. That's what Mormons think of as a "telestial" life. But even the liberal UCC prays for God to protect us from a life of "aimlessness and sin."
Temptation can be painful. But if you think about it, the more painful the temptation, the better it is at shaping our character. It is the really, really painful temptations that force us to decide what it is we really want in life. And we can only surmount such temptations with a grander view of ourselves and our life's purpose. That's why prayer, meditation and scripture study are so important. Any kind of spiritual practice is, effectively, a urim and thummim to us. It helps us see ourselves and our world in a larger, more timeless perspective, a perspective that will provide us the knowledge necessary to make the kinds of promises worth making...!
When we experience temptation, we sometimes feel dirty, we feel bad. We feel as if we must be weak or immoral to experience temptation. It is not so. Temptation means only that we are alive, and that we are on a journey that is worth going on!
I said earlier that temptation is only meaningful within the framework of covenants, and that covenants can only be made under conditions of knowledgeable consent. All of us, if we live long enough, will have the experience of making a commitment under one circumstance, only later to learn and to grow and to acquire knowledge that sheds new light on our circumstances and our promises. This is a natural process, and it is a good process. In a religious framework, we can look at this in terms of lower laws and higher laws; telestial laws, terestrial laws, and celestial laws. We begin at one place, and we make a series of promises within a more limited framework. And those promises shape our character, allowing us to grow and learn. Eventually, we come to a point where the old promises no longer make sense. New knowledge requires renegotiation. We enter into and accept higher laws and make higher covenants which become a new framework for character growth. The times of transition can be disorienting. They can even feel very much like times of temptation. But they are something of a different order entirely.
But wherever we are in the journey, temptation does not leave us. If anything, temptations become more challenging and more painful as we become more sensitive to the nuances of choice available to us, and as we become capable of handling greater challenges... We don't need to seek temptation; indeed, it's usually wise for us to pray for God to keep us from it for as long as possible. But temptations will come, and when they do, we should ultimately be grateful for them. I know I am.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sex and Shame
A couple of weeks ago, I met Jonathan Langford for lunch. He lives not too far away; close enough that a drive into the Twin Cities every once in a while is not too difficult. We had the kind of conversation I live for, where we each shared some of the more significant parts of our respective life journeys, and reflected on faith and day-to-day challenges. We're about the same age too, and with that late forties-something age comes a certain groundedness. We're both sort of past the point where either of us feels we need to prove anything and where most of the loops life throws you for are no longer shocking (if they still don't necessarily get easier). And somehow that deepens the depth of any kind of conversation you can have with somebody. We of course did discuss his book, No Going Back. It entered naturally into the flow of our conversation, because we were discussing faith and life, and of course a novel like that draws on real-life faith and life lessons.
Toward the end of our conversation, Jonathan told me about an incredible discussion he'd read on Feminist Mormon Housewives about "healthy chastity." This particular discussion, not-surprisingly, ended up being about healthy sexuality. And while it's geared toward the challenges girls and women face in a sexist, exploitative culture, it's of direct relevance to men too. And as a gay man in a committed (going on 19-year-long) relationship with a man, I found it incredibly personally relevant. So to those of you who haven't already seen it, regardless of whether you are gay or straight, male or female, it's definitely worth a read.
I had already, for some time, been thinking of posting on the problem of shame and sex, and how shame -- and particularly religiously motivated guilt and shame -- really undermines the goal of chastity, which I would really define here as respect for appropriate sexual boundaries or, more broadly, as life- and relationship-enhancing sexuality. I would further here rather broadly define sexuality not just as sex or sex-acts per se, but also as including self-image, body-image, attitudes toward the giving and receiving of pleasure, and the role that giving and receiving sexual pleasure plays in a broad range of familial and social relationships. So, in my mind, "sexuality" is as much about understanding how and why we say "no" to sex in a host of situations, as it is about understanding and fully appreciating those situations where we can and do appropriately say "yes."
I think any decent theological discussion about chastity has to begin with an acknowledgment of the ways sexuality is abused and exploited in our culture for purposes that can only be described as corrupt. There are two forms of corrupt exploitation of sexuality in our culture. The first broad type of corruption is the "sex sells" proposition. This includes using sex to sell cars or motorcycles or clothes or toothpaste or chewing gum, etc. And it includes ranking bodies (and theoretically the people who inhabit those bodies) in terms of physical beauty or sex-appeal, or whatever, and encourages us to judge ourselves based on the extent to which our bodies approximate some ideal. And it also includes ranking people based on how easily or how often they have sex, etc. And it includes a permissive sort of anything-goes, if-it-feels-good-do-it kind of mentality. And it includes an attitude of "what I do in privacy does not matter." And I think you cannot see the lie in that if you fail to understand how sexuality is connected to a broad range of relationships and social commitments. This first form of corruption is one that folks more easily recognize if they come from a conservative religious culture.
The second form of corruption, however, is often lost on folks from a more religious perspective, and that is the "sex as power" proposition. Whereas the first form of corruption exploits lust for the sake of greed, the second form of corruption exploits shame for the sake of ego. So the more blatant manifestations of this form of corruption include a parent or religious leader or a boss or a therapist or teacher or counselor sexually abusing vulnerable charges or subordinates or clients. Or more nefarious forms of this corruption may not involve actual acts of sexual abuse, but could involve, say, a religious leader using the confidential setting of, say, a worthiness interview, to ask inappropriate questions about a person's sex life. It includes every impulse to control, or compel, or humiliate another human being. It includes an attitude that sex is bad and dirty, and that sexual desire and sexual thoughts make us bad and dirty people. Or it treats sex as something that should be minimized or avoided as much as possible, or used only for procreation (because it's so bad that we should only use it when we really, really have to to propagate the race). And so it ranks people based on their supposed ability to resist the allure of sex, so, for example, a girl (or sometimes a boy, but really, in our culture almost always a girl) who has had sex before marriage is broken, damaged, tainted, and can never have her precious chastity back. Or a gay person who is celibate is a much, much better person than a gay person who is in a relationship. And I think you cannot see the lie in these propositions if you fail to understand how sexuality is connected to a broad range of relationships and social commitments, and how love and relationships make us stronger, how they expand our capacity for good and for service and for sacrifice and community and all the things that really make us human.
Both forms of corruption partake of the lie that sexuality is reducible to an act; that it's disconnected from some larger physical/emotional/spiritual/relational whole. Both, ironically, partake of the lie that sexual morality is defined legalistically. The first form of corruption might denounce sexual laws and sexual rules as overly confining; and the second form of corruption might see laws and sexual rules as all-encompassing (i.e., man is made for the Sabbath!). But both can't seem to get past a legalistic view of sex and of persons as defined by sex acts rather than the meanings invested in sex acts or the relationships within which sexuality forms part of an intricate web of meaning, intimacy and love. This is why the powers that be -- whether economic or religio-political -- seem to be invested in promoting these corrupt attitudes. Both forms of corruption seem to be related to each other as well in the sense that -- like Democrats and Republicans -- they present themselves as the only one of two viable attitudes. They both sell the lie that one must either accept that good sexuality is about "anything goes," or that good sexuality is about "following rules."
Both also -- significantly -- divest the individual of any autonomy or power to figure out how sexuality works for them, or to make moral judgments of their own, independent of some uncompromising external standard that is either promulgated through Calvin Klein ads or that was supposedly written in stone on Mt. Sinai (as interpreted, of course, by infallible religious leaders). Legalism essentially teaches me that I cannot make decisions on my own; that there simply are no choices because everything is black and white. And it instills fear and shame in me to the extent that I don't just shut up and do as I'm told.
I've found one way forward in the realization that shame is simply not a useful emotion in relation to sex. It simply doesn't help me in any way whatsoever. Shame in relation to sex seems independent of the morality or immorality of any particular sexual situation. For instance, as a young teenager, I experienced intense shame about the fact that -- obeying church leaders and avoiding masturbation -- I was having wet dreams literally every night or every other night. Every time I woke up from an erotic dream with moist undergarments, I felt like I was somehow to blame, as though there must be something terribly wrong with me because I ejaculate. Or shame can manifest as the sneaking suspicion that there must be something wrong with me because my partner and I are happy together and because we really enjoy sex.
The antidote, for me, has, interestingly enough, been a simple form of humility. It is simply to accept that this is me, this is how I am made. I am flesh and blood. I eat, I drink, I breathe, I defecate, I urinate, I bleed, I sweat. And yes, I get aroused and I ejaculate. This is all part and parcel of the human condition; of existing as a spiritual being having a physical experience. It is to realize that even if I could somehow purge myself of every sexual impulse or desire, it would not make me better than anyone else. That is the real temptation, the real sin: to think scaling some height of asceticism could somehow make me morally superior. But as Paul wrote, "Though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing." That appeal to some egotistical part of my nature is in fact much more offensive to God than the fact I enjoy the embrace of the man I love.
Gratitude is another antidote, which includes simply taking time to take a deep breath and take account of the wonder and beauty of the world around us. I express to God how thankful I am for this incredible opportunity to have this complex, rich experience with life and physicality, to live in a world where there are such challenges, such pain, such darkness, and such misunderstanding; that I have an opportunity to bring light and love and hope to such a place. I give thanks that this body gives me the opportunity to express love, through work, through nurture, and through physical affection. I embrace life, which is God's finest creation.
Toward the end of our conversation, Jonathan told me about an incredible discussion he'd read on Feminist Mormon Housewives about "healthy chastity." This particular discussion, not-surprisingly, ended up being about healthy sexuality. And while it's geared toward the challenges girls and women face in a sexist, exploitative culture, it's of direct relevance to men too. And as a gay man in a committed (going on 19-year-long) relationship with a man, I found it incredibly personally relevant. So to those of you who haven't already seen it, regardless of whether you are gay or straight, male or female, it's definitely worth a read.
I had already, for some time, been thinking of posting on the problem of shame and sex, and how shame -- and particularly religiously motivated guilt and shame -- really undermines the goal of chastity, which I would really define here as respect for appropriate sexual boundaries or, more broadly, as life- and relationship-enhancing sexuality. I would further here rather broadly define sexuality not just as sex or sex-acts per se, but also as including self-image, body-image, attitudes toward the giving and receiving of pleasure, and the role that giving and receiving sexual pleasure plays in a broad range of familial and social relationships. So, in my mind, "sexuality" is as much about understanding how and why we say "no" to sex in a host of situations, as it is about understanding and fully appreciating those situations where we can and do appropriately say "yes."
I think any decent theological discussion about chastity has to begin with an acknowledgment of the ways sexuality is abused and exploited in our culture for purposes that can only be described as corrupt. There are two forms of corrupt exploitation of sexuality in our culture. The first broad type of corruption is the "sex sells" proposition. This includes using sex to sell cars or motorcycles or clothes or toothpaste or chewing gum, etc. And it includes ranking bodies (and theoretically the people who inhabit those bodies) in terms of physical beauty or sex-appeal, or whatever, and encourages us to judge ourselves based on the extent to which our bodies approximate some ideal. And it also includes ranking people based on how easily or how often they have sex, etc. And it includes a permissive sort of anything-goes, if-it-feels-good-do-it kind of mentality. And it includes an attitude of "what I do in privacy does not matter." And I think you cannot see the lie in that if you fail to understand how sexuality is connected to a broad range of relationships and social commitments. This first form of corruption is one that folks more easily recognize if they come from a conservative religious culture.
The second form of corruption, however, is often lost on folks from a more religious perspective, and that is the "sex as power" proposition. Whereas the first form of corruption exploits lust for the sake of greed, the second form of corruption exploits shame for the sake of ego. So the more blatant manifestations of this form of corruption include a parent or religious leader or a boss or a therapist or teacher or counselor sexually abusing vulnerable charges or subordinates or clients. Or more nefarious forms of this corruption may not involve actual acts of sexual abuse, but could involve, say, a religious leader using the confidential setting of, say, a worthiness interview, to ask inappropriate questions about a person's sex life. It includes every impulse to control, or compel, or humiliate another human being. It includes an attitude that sex is bad and dirty, and that sexual desire and sexual thoughts make us bad and dirty people. Or it treats sex as something that should be minimized or avoided as much as possible, or used only for procreation (because it's so bad that we should only use it when we really, really have to to propagate the race). And so it ranks people based on their supposed ability to resist the allure of sex, so, for example, a girl (or sometimes a boy, but really, in our culture almost always a girl) who has had sex before marriage is broken, damaged, tainted, and can never have her precious chastity back. Or a gay person who is celibate is a much, much better person than a gay person who is in a relationship. And I think you cannot see the lie in these propositions if you fail to understand how sexuality is connected to a broad range of relationships and social commitments, and how love and relationships make us stronger, how they expand our capacity for good and for service and for sacrifice and community and all the things that really make us human.
Both forms of corruption partake of the lie that sexuality is reducible to an act; that it's disconnected from some larger physical/emotional/spiritual/relational whole. Both, ironically, partake of the lie that sexual morality is defined legalistically. The first form of corruption might denounce sexual laws and sexual rules as overly confining; and the second form of corruption might see laws and sexual rules as all-encompassing (i.e., man is made for the Sabbath!). But both can't seem to get past a legalistic view of sex and of persons as defined by sex acts rather than the meanings invested in sex acts or the relationships within which sexuality forms part of an intricate web of meaning, intimacy and love. This is why the powers that be -- whether economic or religio-political -- seem to be invested in promoting these corrupt attitudes. Both forms of corruption seem to be related to each other as well in the sense that -- like Democrats and Republicans -- they present themselves as the only one of two viable attitudes. They both sell the lie that one must either accept that good sexuality is about "anything goes," or that good sexuality is about "following rules."
Both also -- significantly -- divest the individual of any autonomy or power to figure out how sexuality works for them, or to make moral judgments of their own, independent of some uncompromising external standard that is either promulgated through Calvin Klein ads or that was supposedly written in stone on Mt. Sinai (as interpreted, of course, by infallible religious leaders). Legalism essentially teaches me that I cannot make decisions on my own; that there simply are no choices because everything is black and white. And it instills fear and shame in me to the extent that I don't just shut up and do as I'm told.
I've found one way forward in the realization that shame is simply not a useful emotion in relation to sex. It simply doesn't help me in any way whatsoever. Shame in relation to sex seems independent of the morality or immorality of any particular sexual situation. For instance, as a young teenager, I experienced intense shame about the fact that -- obeying church leaders and avoiding masturbation -- I was having wet dreams literally every night or every other night. Every time I woke up from an erotic dream with moist undergarments, I felt like I was somehow to blame, as though there must be something terribly wrong with me because I ejaculate. Or shame can manifest as the sneaking suspicion that there must be something wrong with me because my partner and I are happy together and because we really enjoy sex.
The antidote, for me, has, interestingly enough, been a simple form of humility. It is simply to accept that this is me, this is how I am made. I am flesh and blood. I eat, I drink, I breathe, I defecate, I urinate, I bleed, I sweat. And yes, I get aroused and I ejaculate. This is all part and parcel of the human condition; of existing as a spiritual being having a physical experience. It is to realize that even if I could somehow purge myself of every sexual impulse or desire, it would not make me better than anyone else. That is the real temptation, the real sin: to think scaling some height of asceticism could somehow make me morally superior. But as Paul wrote, "Though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing." That appeal to some egotistical part of my nature is in fact much more offensive to God than the fact I enjoy the embrace of the man I love.
Gratitude is another antidote, which includes simply taking time to take a deep breath and take account of the wonder and beauty of the world around us. I express to God how thankful I am for this incredible opportunity to have this complex, rich experience with life and physicality, to live in a world where there are such challenges, such pain, such darkness, and such misunderstanding; that I have an opportunity to bring light and love and hope to such a place. I give thanks that this body gives me the opportunity to express love, through work, through nurture, and through physical affection. I embrace life, which is God's finest creation.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Why Would God Do This to Me?
I realize a lot of folks are angry or discouraged by Elder Packer's words in General Conference. But I'm not. I'm actually encouraged.
When Elder Packer denied that homosexuality could possibly be inborn, and rhetorically posed the question, "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" he was asking the same question I and countless other gay folks have asked ourselves.
And the reason we asked ourselves such a question is because our experience of our sexual orientation as some fundamental, inherent aspect of our beings prompted us to ask it. Because our efforts to stamp this aspect of ourselves out, to deny it, to run away from it, or to "pray it away" simply and utterly failed, no matter how much faith we exercised and no matter how urgent our desire to be straight. Yes, this is an existential problem. It is very much about who we are, what our natures are. That is why the problem of gay suicide is very much connected to this issue. To be or not to be, that is the question. Gay suicide is the urgency of our desire to be something we are not crashing up against the reality of what we are. And out of the pain of the conflict, if we somehow survive it, comes that anguished question: "Why, God, would you do this to me?"
We can try to deny the data, but the data is there. The lives, the experiences, the struggles, the truth is all there, bigger than the denials.
So Elder Packer's speech is comforting to me. When he asks, "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" he is asking the right question.
When Elder Packer denied that homosexuality could possibly be inborn, and rhetorically posed the question, "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" he was asking the same question I and countless other gay folks have asked ourselves.
And the reason we asked ourselves such a question is because our experience of our sexual orientation as some fundamental, inherent aspect of our beings prompted us to ask it. Because our efforts to stamp this aspect of ourselves out, to deny it, to run away from it, or to "pray it away" simply and utterly failed, no matter how much faith we exercised and no matter how urgent our desire to be straight. Yes, this is an existential problem. It is very much about who we are, what our natures are. That is why the problem of gay suicide is very much connected to this issue. To be or not to be, that is the question. Gay suicide is the urgency of our desire to be something we are not crashing up against the reality of what we are. And out of the pain of the conflict, if we somehow survive it, comes that anguished question: "Why, God, would you do this to me?"
We can try to deny the data, but the data is there. The lives, the experiences, the struggles, the truth is all there, bigger than the denials.
So Elder Packer's speech is comforting to me. When he asks, "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" he is asking the right question.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Experience or Inference?
Bravone recently completed a 5-part series on "God, Spirituality, Religion and the LDS Church, and Where I Fit in as One of Father's Gay Sons." I've engaged him there in a conversation about whether or not homosexuality is a mere mortal condition, or whether there are aspects of it that are eternal. My response to his thinking about this exceeded the blogger maximum length of 4,096 characters! So it's posted here...
If I understand what you're saying, you essentially affirm that homosexuality must be a mortal condition because of inferences you draw from the temple ceremony and from Latter-day scripture, because of explicit statements by modern day prophets and apostles. Also, you're drawing inferences from nature.
If I understand what you're saying, you essentially affirm that homosexuality must be a mortal condition because of inferences you draw from the temple ceremony and from Latter-day scripture, because of explicit statements by modern day prophets and apostles. Also, you're drawing inferences from nature.
However, your sense that there must be aspects of homosexuality that are eternal seem to be – correct me if I'm wrong – drawn from direct personal observation. Both from your personal experience, as well as direct experience of the world around you. You observe that homosexuals have certain “very desirable” “qualities, talents and characteristics, either inherent or acquired.” You suggest that “living as a gay man or woman in a predominately heterosexual world” is responsible for some of these traits (such as “humility” or “compassion” maybe?). But you list other traits that don't seem logically “acquired” and are good candidates for “inherent” (such as “sensitivity,” “color” and “arts,” for example?).
To me, it is first of all very interesting that your conclusions from observation and experience seem to pull you in the opposite direction from your conclusions based on “official teaching” or inference. That is my experience as well.
My experience also includes personal spiritual experience. My suicidal despair over my condition came largely from the fact that I was relying solely on official teaching, which at some very deep level left me feeling utterly hopeless and worthless. But when I did as James directs, and, lacking wisdom, asked of God, I got a very different kind of answer, i.e., “Your homosexuality is an inherent, created part of you that I know and understand, and that is good.” And so I was being asked by my Heavenly Father, in some very profound sense, to simply trust what he was telling me about my own created goodness – even though the world around me, particularly the world of official church teaching, radically disconfirmed that. That was in 1986, right after my near suicide and right before I left the Church.
My second experience was in early 2006, after I had started attending Church again in response to prompting from the Holy Spirit. And there was this very desperate moment where – again, aware of the profound disconnect between official teaching and my own personal experience – I prayed to God trying to understand. How could I have this witness from the Spirit that the Church is true and that I need to be there, when I also have had these profound spiritual experiences affirming that there is nothing wrong with me in my created nature and that my relationship with my husband is very good? I specifically raised the whole question of exaltation and eternal happiness, and how that relates to my relationship with my husband. I put that on the table, and essentially said, If I need to leave this relationship, if that is your will, I'll find a way to do it. It won't be easy, but I trust that you can lead me in the path I need to go. And again, the answer I got was very, exceedingly clear. Under no conditions was I to make any attempt to end my relationship with my husband, that to do so would be a sin. AND, I need have no fear for my eternal welfare or happiness. My Heavenly Father made it known to me that he was extremely pleased with me, and I need simply to trust.
I understand the extreme skepticism with which most good LDS in the pews (and on the stand in General Conference) will regard those kinds of spiritual experiences.
I also understand that, for most LDS, it is out of compassion and the “pure love of Christ” that they would urge me to quit my relationship with my husband (and that they go to the polls and try to legally take rights away from me and my husband). From the perspective of official LDS teaching, homosexuality is a mere mortal condition, and to try to build an eternal life based on it is just setting me up for stagnation and unhappiness in the life to come. I understand that.
You, however, have here and elsewhere stated that you have no problem with homosexual relationships; that it is not your desire to discriminate or take anything away from them. That seems out of harmony with official teaching. But it seems less out of harmony with your personal experience.
I'm not trying to embarrass you here... If anyone has reason to be embarrassed, under these circumstances, it is me. After all, you're the one being faithful. You're in good standing in the Church, and I'm excommunicated with no chance in sight of being restored to Church membership. And I've had to wrestle with all the doubts that come with being “out of harmony with the brethren” on a point that they seem to consider fundamental. But I don't find myself out of harmony with God. Which, given my testimony, is confusing and damned inconvenient. But there you have it...
But I am aware of a dynamic here. I've seen it in other churches besides the LDS Church. People who know and love homosexuals tend to be more open to the value and goodness of same-sex relationships. People who have no personal experience tend to be more judgmental, and less willing to tolerate same-sex relationships. Why does personal experience with this seem to complicate this question rather than clarify it? I don't think you can just write it off as being corrupted by the world... To hew the line, you almost have to blind and deafen yourself to real world experience, and that, to me, seems an unhealthy perspective for people of faith...
John
Friday, January 15, 2010
Not About the Sex
In the days before I had come to a full acceptance of my gayness, I had a fantasy. I actually told my fantasy to my best friend at the time, the guy around whom the fantasy centered. I told him that I wished we could always stay together and be friends forever. In my fantasy, we would each marry women and have families of our own. But we would buy houses that were located literally next door to each other. We would work at the same company. We would see each other every day. Our wives would be best friends. Our kids would play together. We would share meals every day. I imagined no fences in our backyards. We'd come home from work, and have a big family barbeque together. We'd hang out and talk until it was time to put the kids to bed, and then we'd retire to our respective homes until the next morning, when we'd see each other again. Ready to be best friends again for another day.
I knew it would never be a reality. I knew that each of us getting married would in reality pull us apart, separate us forever. But a guy's entitled to dream, right?
It's interesting to me looking back that gay sex was nowhere to be seen in my gay fantasy world. I remember a time when the notion of actual gay sex kind of scared me. Did I want to touch and be held and always be close to a man? Absolutely, yes, with no question. Was I ready to get naked and get crazy? No way.
I've seen similar fantasies floating around in the gay Mormon blogosphere. Celibate fantasies where guys live together forever as best friends. Fantasies about the restoration of a kind of modified polygamy that would let us have our eternal marriage cake and eat it too. Gay dating that lasts forever, that never goes past first base so we can still answer the temple recommend questions the right way. So many blog posts devoted to the theme of finding some way to find the emotional and social and spiritual fulfillment of same-sex love, without the excommunicatey aftertaste!
Recently, Scott posted about his continuing search to meet basic emotional/social/physical needs (needs for touch and for friendship) in a way that lets him stay true to his marriage. Mohohawaii posted a comment that struck me as particularly poignant. Most gay men, at some point, do hunger for the intimacy and connection and physical relief that sex provides. But the fundamental drive is not toward sex. He used the terms "bonding" and "nesting" to describe what we essentially long for. I was struck by the "nesting" comment in particular, because when you look at the various asexual Moho fantasies out there -- including my own pre-coming out fantasy -- that's where it went. It was all about preserving and nurturing in some form a primary male-male bond that includes constant fellowship, if not actual living together.
My last grasp at heteronormative sociality went beyond the realm of fantasy and into a real, actualizable homosocial lifestyle. I spent the summer in a Roman Catholic monastery in central France (with the Brothers of St. John), and seriously considered the possibility of joining the Catholic Church and taking vows. My spiritual wrestling with that very real possibility eventually led me to the conclusion that I did not have a "calling" to be a Roman Catholic monk. But if there had been a way for me to live a fully satisfying life with the potential to meet my deepest emotional and social cravings, that would have been it.
(Either that, or being a Mormon missionary forever and ever. I've actually also had fantasies of being one of the three Nephites!)
But the point is, being gay is not and never has been primarily about the sex. It's been distorted into that in certain segments of the gay community. A couple of the other comments posted on Scott's Selfish Again post suggested (in the usual stereotypical fashion) that gay relationships just don't last; that gays find it harder to forge committed relationships than straights. Well, there's a grain of truth in that, if you look at aspects of the gay American subculture. There are elements of that subculture that romanticize fast, easy, noncommittal sex; that romanticize a perpetual search for hotter guys and intenser experiences. There are way too many gay guys who have taken the bait of the culture of pornography and free sex, and haven't figured out yet how to break the bad habits that keep undermining healthy relationships and true happiness. I've posted elsewhere about this problem. I see it as a consequence of centuries of stigmatization and homophobia, and yes, the continuing efforts of our society to undermine gay relationships through political campaigns like Prop 8. Of course I'm the first to admit that the only way we can break the cycle of unhealthy sexuality is to take responsibility for ourselves and our behavior and for each other. We can't blame Prop 8.
The unhealthy stuff in gay culture is unhealthy precisely because it fails to take account of the true nature of our yearnings. It's not about sex. it's about relationship. Any married couple will tell you (and I'll add my voice to the chorus), marital sex has its ups and downs. On occasion it's great -- transcendent! "Holy," as Mohohawaii put it. Göran and I have been together for going on 18 years, and some of the best sex we've ever had is now. But often sex meets a need, and it's done. And sometimes it's outright frustrating or disappointing. We have a refrigerator magnet that says, "Not tonight, dear. It's a gross misdemeanor!" Often you just don't feel like it, and you go without it for a while. A marriage that is just about sex will not last long. Marriage isn't and never has been just about sex, and sex doesn't meet our most basic needs. But the sex is an expression of something profound and important. It's one of many forms of physical touch, which we do need. It expresses profound emotions that can't be expressed in any other way.
It is one facet of the profoundly human need that is best expressed by the gay fantasy of two guys living together as best friends forever.
I knew it would never be a reality. I knew that each of us getting married would in reality pull us apart, separate us forever. But a guy's entitled to dream, right?
It's interesting to me looking back that gay sex was nowhere to be seen in my gay fantasy world. I remember a time when the notion of actual gay sex kind of scared me. Did I want to touch and be held and always be close to a man? Absolutely, yes, with no question. Was I ready to get naked and get crazy? No way.
I've seen similar fantasies floating around in the gay Mormon blogosphere. Celibate fantasies where guys live together forever as best friends. Fantasies about the restoration of a kind of modified polygamy that would let us have our eternal marriage cake and eat it too. Gay dating that lasts forever, that never goes past first base so we can still answer the temple recommend questions the right way. So many blog posts devoted to the theme of finding some way to find the emotional and social and spiritual fulfillment of same-sex love, without the excommunicatey aftertaste!
Recently, Scott posted about his continuing search to meet basic emotional/social/physical needs (needs for touch and for friendship) in a way that lets him stay true to his marriage. Mohohawaii posted a comment that struck me as particularly poignant. Most gay men, at some point, do hunger for the intimacy and connection and physical relief that sex provides. But the fundamental drive is not toward sex. He used the terms "bonding" and "nesting" to describe what we essentially long for. I was struck by the "nesting" comment in particular, because when you look at the various asexual Moho fantasies out there -- including my own pre-coming out fantasy -- that's where it went. It was all about preserving and nurturing in some form a primary male-male bond that includes constant fellowship, if not actual living together.
My last grasp at heteronormative sociality went beyond the realm of fantasy and into a real, actualizable homosocial lifestyle. I spent the summer in a Roman Catholic monastery in central France (with the Brothers of St. John), and seriously considered the possibility of joining the Catholic Church and taking vows. My spiritual wrestling with that very real possibility eventually led me to the conclusion that I did not have a "calling" to be a Roman Catholic monk. But if there had been a way for me to live a fully satisfying life with the potential to meet my deepest emotional and social cravings, that would have been it.
(Either that, or being a Mormon missionary forever and ever. I've actually also had fantasies of being one of the three Nephites!)
But the point is, being gay is not and never has been primarily about the sex. It's been distorted into that in certain segments of the gay community. A couple of the other comments posted on Scott's Selfish Again post suggested (in the usual stereotypical fashion) that gay relationships just don't last; that gays find it harder to forge committed relationships than straights. Well, there's a grain of truth in that, if you look at aspects of the gay American subculture. There are elements of that subculture that romanticize fast, easy, noncommittal sex; that romanticize a perpetual search for hotter guys and intenser experiences. There are way too many gay guys who have taken the bait of the culture of pornography and free sex, and haven't figured out yet how to break the bad habits that keep undermining healthy relationships and true happiness. I've posted elsewhere about this problem. I see it as a consequence of centuries of stigmatization and homophobia, and yes, the continuing efforts of our society to undermine gay relationships through political campaigns like Prop 8. Of course I'm the first to admit that the only way we can break the cycle of unhealthy sexuality is to take responsibility for ourselves and our behavior and for each other. We can't blame Prop 8.
The unhealthy stuff in gay culture is unhealthy precisely because it fails to take account of the true nature of our yearnings. It's not about sex. it's about relationship. Any married couple will tell you (and I'll add my voice to the chorus), marital sex has its ups and downs. On occasion it's great -- transcendent! "Holy," as Mohohawaii put it. Göran and I have been together for going on 18 years, and some of the best sex we've ever had is now. But often sex meets a need, and it's done. And sometimes it's outright frustrating or disappointing. We have a refrigerator magnet that says, "Not tonight, dear. It's a gross misdemeanor!" Often you just don't feel like it, and you go without it for a while. A marriage that is just about sex will not last long. Marriage isn't and never has been just about sex, and sex doesn't meet our most basic needs. But the sex is an expression of something profound and important. It's one of many forms of physical touch, which we do need. It expresses profound emotions that can't be expressed in any other way.
It is one facet of the profoundly human need that is best expressed by the gay fantasy of two guys living together as best friends forever.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Cloud of Words
I saw this on Mohohawaii's web site, and thought it was really cool... This image was created from my blog, produced by an algorithm that converts text into a graphic representation of the most important words in the text. This does kinda capture my blog -- certainly the last seven posts anyway.
Here's the wordle.net link for others of you who want to try it. Warning, though! I had some technical difficulties, and was only ultimately able to present this to you with Mohohawaii's kind assistance.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Center of Gravity
This morning as I was biking to work, I was aware more than usual of a basic law of physics. If I'm trying to get speed on my bike, the easiest way to do it is to position my body in such a way that my center of gravity is just above my hips. Then when I peddle, it's much easier to exert force with my legs. When my center of gravity is elsewhere, say, when I'm sitting upright and maybe even leaning back a bit, I get completely exhausted very quickly if I try to peddle at the same speeds I can peddle when my center of gravity is more forward, and more directly above my hips. When my center of gravity is in the right place, I'm able to go much faster and be less tired.
This principle works in other physical disciplines as well. Back when I was a student at the University of Minnesota, because I had written a number of letters to newspapers and spoken in public forums in support of gay rights, I periodically received phone threats and hate mail. I even received some calls threatening physical violence, so I enrolled in a martial arts/self-defense course for a time in order to be able to protect myself physically if necessary. If there was one thing I learned from these classes, it was that when defending yourself the main thing you need to pay attention to is where your center of gravity is. If you stay centered, it is much harder for an opponent to knock you off balance, and much easier for you to deliver disabling blows to your opponent that will prevent them from harming you and enable you to escape.
Where your center of gravity is located is key. You always have a center of gravity, but the closer it is to your physical center, the more balanced you will be. Force exerted from your center of gravity will always be more efficient. Basic physics.
The same principle applies spiritually. We all have a spiritual center of gravity. When our spiritual center of gravity is located in our "outward observances," in our "works," in the things we do, we will be spiritually out of balance. We become spiritually and emotionally exhausted focusing on all the stuff we are supposed to do in order appear righteous to others.
If, on the other hand, our spiritual center of gravity is inward, in the center, the outward observances flow more naturally. They become a reflection of our inward faith, hope, and, most of all, our love. For love is the spiritual center of all things. If our center of gravity is there, in the heart of love, it is harder for others to knock us off balance. When the things we do proceed from that spiritual center of love, they become easy to do, they become a joy, rather than that exhausting "one more thing" on our long list of things we're doing to try to impress God or impress our fellow human beings.
The past week has been trying for me. And there have been moments when I have just ached inside, when I have felt like I couldn't do one more thing, take one more step, say or write one more word. I was very aware of how weak and imperfect and flawed I am. I was grateful for Church on Sunday. I was aware of the presence of the Spirit, encouraging me to just be still, be quiet, wait. If I had no energy left, it was OK to just be still, to acknowledge that I am me and God is God.
Those moments of weakness are good. They are painful! I was hurting! But they help remind us of our utter dependence -- if we let them. The pain helps us if we let it remind us where our ultimate spiritual center is -- in God. To recognize that we are not self-reliant in any ultimate sense is to find our center, to know who and what we are. It is to know that we are children of God.
Fortunately, like all things good and bad, the pain eventually ends. I woke up this morning from a peaceful, reassuring dream (that maybe I will blog about later). After I had written it down, and knelt in prayer, I found not necessarily that I had found my center, but that my center had found me, and life is very, very good. I am grateful. And grateful for what I have learned, once again, about who and what I am and how to get home.
This principle works in other physical disciplines as well. Back when I was a student at the University of Minnesota, because I had written a number of letters to newspapers and spoken in public forums in support of gay rights, I periodically received phone threats and hate mail. I even received some calls threatening physical violence, so I enrolled in a martial arts/self-defense course for a time in order to be able to protect myself physically if necessary. If there was one thing I learned from these classes, it was that when defending yourself the main thing you need to pay attention to is where your center of gravity is. If you stay centered, it is much harder for an opponent to knock you off balance, and much easier for you to deliver disabling blows to your opponent that will prevent them from harming you and enable you to escape.
Where your center of gravity is located is key. You always have a center of gravity, but the closer it is to your physical center, the more balanced you will be. Force exerted from your center of gravity will always be more efficient. Basic physics.
The same principle applies spiritually. We all have a spiritual center of gravity. When our spiritual center of gravity is located in our "outward observances," in our "works," in the things we do, we will be spiritually out of balance. We become spiritually and emotionally exhausted focusing on all the stuff we are supposed to do in order appear righteous to others.
If, on the other hand, our spiritual center of gravity is inward, in the center, the outward observances flow more naturally. They become a reflection of our inward faith, hope, and, most of all, our love. For love is the spiritual center of all things. If our center of gravity is there, in the heart of love, it is harder for others to knock us off balance. When the things we do proceed from that spiritual center of love, they become easy to do, they become a joy, rather than that exhausting "one more thing" on our long list of things we're doing to try to impress God or impress our fellow human beings.
The past week has been trying for me. And there have been moments when I have just ached inside, when I have felt like I couldn't do one more thing, take one more step, say or write one more word. I was very aware of how weak and imperfect and flawed I am. I was grateful for Church on Sunday. I was aware of the presence of the Spirit, encouraging me to just be still, be quiet, wait. If I had no energy left, it was OK to just be still, to acknowledge that I am me and God is God.
Those moments of weakness are good. They are painful! I was hurting! But they help remind us of our utter dependence -- if we let them. The pain helps us if we let it remind us where our ultimate spiritual center is -- in God. To recognize that we are not self-reliant in any ultimate sense is to find our center, to know who and what we are. It is to know that we are children of God.
Fortunately, like all things good and bad, the pain eventually ends. I woke up this morning from a peaceful, reassuring dream (that maybe I will blog about later). After I had written it down, and knelt in prayer, I found not necessarily that I had found my center, but that my center had found me, and life is very, very good. I am grateful. And grateful for what I have learned, once again, about who and what I am and how to get home.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Following All the Rules
Last week, a man was killed in downtown Minneapolis while biking to work. I took particular notice of this accidental death because I too bike to work every day in downtown Minneapolis, and in fact I ride down the same bike lane that this biker was riding down when he was killed. In fact, I passed over the very spot where he died not more than 15 minutes before he was killed. Every day I have ridden to work since, I have noted the yellow lines spray-painted on the road by investigators on the spot where this young, 30-something man met his end.
When I heard about this tragic accident and where it happened, I immediately thought I knew what had happened. Along the section of road where the accident occurred, the blocks are very short, and there is a stoplight on every intersection. The lights are timed so that if you are biking a certain speed, you can make all of them, but if you are going slightly slow, you may get stuck one or more times. Downtown is just to the left of this stretch of road, so cars are frequently making left turns, cutting across the bike lane, and drivers often forget to signal their turns, or only signal at the last minute. The combination of bikers wanting to hurry to make all the lights, and cars wanting to turn left, cutting in front of bikers, is an accident waiting to happen. Especially if the bikers or the drivers are not diligent in following the rules of the road.
As a devoted biker, it is a sad thing to have to admit that most of the bicyclists I observe are not particularly scrupulous about obeying the rules of the road. I frequently see bikers not wearing helmets or using signals, blowing through red lights, riding the wrong way down a one-way street, improperly cutting across lanes, and riding in an otherwise erratic and irresponsible manner. So when I heard about the accident last week, I readily assumed that this particular biker met his untimely end due to his own carelessness.
But later, I read a more detailed account of the accident in the paper. Friends and family of this individual knew him as unusually devoted to biking and particularly responsible and attentive to the rules of the road. An eye-witness of the accident testified that the young man who died had in fact been following all the rules at the time of his death.
He was hit by an unusually large semi. I saw a picture of the truck in the paper, and noted that the tires of the truck were almost as tall as a man. Apparently, because of its unusual size, the truck was obliged to make a turn that was much wider than normal. Thus, to the bicycle rider, it may have seemed that the truck was moving forward when in fact it was getting ready to turn. The driver of the truck was up so high, and his vehicle so large, he probably never saw the bike. When the truck did turn, one of those huge wheels bore down on the bicyclist, killing him instantly.
In this case, as far as investigators could discern, everyone -- the bicyclist as well as the truck driver -- was following all the rules of the road to the best of his ability. It was just an unusual situation that couldn't possibly be anticipated by the rules. The accident was easily avoidable, but would have taken extra caution, extra awareness, extra discernment to avoid. In fact, it is quite possible that the rules may have blinded each participant in this drama to the danger at hand. The confidence of each that rules were all that was needed to keep everybody safe may have kept each from paying attention to the very real danger literally just around the corner. I think about this now, every morning, as I pass those spray-painted yellow lines on the intersection of 14th and Park on my way to work.
Sometimes our lives are like that. Some of us are minding our business, riding our bike to work next to an unusually large semi. We may think that all we need to do to protect ourselves is follow all the rules. But in our case, the rules won't help us. The only thing that will help us is keeping our eyes and ears open, watching and waiting and responding.
When I heard about this tragic accident and where it happened, I immediately thought I knew what had happened. Along the section of road where the accident occurred, the blocks are very short, and there is a stoplight on every intersection. The lights are timed so that if you are biking a certain speed, you can make all of them, but if you are going slightly slow, you may get stuck one or more times. Downtown is just to the left of this stretch of road, so cars are frequently making left turns, cutting across the bike lane, and drivers often forget to signal their turns, or only signal at the last minute. The combination of bikers wanting to hurry to make all the lights, and cars wanting to turn left, cutting in front of bikers, is an accident waiting to happen. Especially if the bikers or the drivers are not diligent in following the rules of the road.
As a devoted biker, it is a sad thing to have to admit that most of the bicyclists I observe are not particularly scrupulous about obeying the rules of the road. I frequently see bikers not wearing helmets or using signals, blowing through red lights, riding the wrong way down a one-way street, improperly cutting across lanes, and riding in an otherwise erratic and irresponsible manner. So when I heard about the accident last week, I readily assumed that this particular biker met his untimely end due to his own carelessness.
But later, I read a more detailed account of the accident in the paper. Friends and family of this individual knew him as unusually devoted to biking and particularly responsible and attentive to the rules of the road. An eye-witness of the accident testified that the young man who died had in fact been following all the rules at the time of his death.
He was hit by an unusually large semi. I saw a picture of the truck in the paper, and noted that the tires of the truck were almost as tall as a man. Apparently, because of its unusual size, the truck was obliged to make a turn that was much wider than normal. Thus, to the bicycle rider, it may have seemed that the truck was moving forward when in fact it was getting ready to turn. The driver of the truck was up so high, and his vehicle so large, he probably never saw the bike. When the truck did turn, one of those huge wheels bore down on the bicyclist, killing him instantly.
In this case, as far as investigators could discern, everyone -- the bicyclist as well as the truck driver -- was following all the rules of the road to the best of his ability. It was just an unusual situation that couldn't possibly be anticipated by the rules. The accident was easily avoidable, but would have taken extra caution, extra awareness, extra discernment to avoid. In fact, it is quite possible that the rules may have blinded each participant in this drama to the danger at hand. The confidence of each that rules were all that was needed to keep everybody safe may have kept each from paying attention to the very real danger literally just around the corner. I think about this now, every morning, as I pass those spray-painted yellow lines on the intersection of 14th and Park on my way to work.
Sometimes our lives are like that. Some of us are minding our business, riding our bike to work next to an unusually large semi. We may think that all we need to do to protect ourselves is follow all the rules. But in our case, the rules won't help us. The only thing that will help us is keeping our eyes and ears open, watching and waiting and responding.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Interviews with Christ
After separating the sheep from the goats, Christ interviews the sheep.
Interview #1
Christ: So I understand you are homosexual, but were married to a woman your whole life. What was that like?
Interviewee #1: Well, as you can imagine, it was very challenging. I followed the advice of Church leaders and got married, believing that if I did my sexual orientation would eventually change. It never did. And as I gradually realized that it wouldn't, I was disappointed, angry, depressed. I almost lost faith in my Church leaders and even in you. But I hung in there, and gradually I realized that there were other blessings that helped keep me going. I sure love my children! They made everything else worth it.
It was really hard for my wife, too, as you can imagine. She had to be twice as disappointed and frustrated as I was, once she realized I could never be the kind of husband she thought she was marrying. Boy did we argue sometimes, and we both said things we later regretted. There were times when we thought our marriage would never make it. But we hung in there. Boy, do I love her! The temptation to be unfaithful was very difficult, and there was even a time when I failed her in that regard. But somehow she was able to forgive me, and I went through a repentance process. And in the end, we realized we had something precious, even if it wasn't what we had initially hoped.
Even though we were surrounded and supported by friends, family, and Church, there were times when we felt so alone. People loved us, but they just never could understand what we were going through. Sometimes we thought we would go crazy. But we learned to reach out and rely on others more. And we learned how precious our relationships were to our extended family and members of our ward.
Christ: You're fortunate. It didn't work out so well for most people in your situation.
Interviewee #1: Oh, I know. I know.
Christ: What do you think you've learned from all this?
Interviewee #1: Well, I learned the value of obedience and how unexpected blessings can come from it. And I learned a LOT about communication and fidelity. And I learned how nothing important in life can be achieved without recognizing our interdependence. And of course I learned about the nature of love.
Christ: Well, we have some very important work for you to do that requires just those skills! Congratulations! You made it!
So I have one final question for you, and I want you to be completely honest. How do you feel about remaining together with your lovely spouse for all eternity?
Interviewee #1: Well, we've made it together this far. All of life's most important lessons, I learned from her. I can't imagine continuing without her.
But, um. I'm wondering, could you arrange for us to have a little more 'umph' in our marriage going forward? If you know what I mean?
Christ: (laughing) Yes, I know what you mean. And yes, I think adding a little more 'umph' to your marriage will be possible.
Interviewee #1: Yippee!
*****
Interview #2
Christ: So I understand you are same-sex attracted and consequently you chose to remain celibate your entire life. What was that like?
Interviewee #2: Well, as you can imagine, it was very challenging. Members of the Church, friends and family tried to be supportive, I think. Their hearts were in the right place, but so often they just didn't get it. Sometimes there were things said in Sunday School and Priesthood meeting that made me just want to get up and scream. But I didn't. And gradually some folks figured it out, and I learned not to get upset by the ones that didn't.
But the hardest thing, as you can imagine, was the loneliness. Sometimes it was just grinding. It felt like I was dying. Sometimes I was so angry at Church leaders who counseled me to stay celibate. I thought, "What do they know? They're married! They have a wife and kids to go home to." Sometimes I felt like just giving up on the Church, even on you. But I hung in there. And I discovered strengths I never thought I had. And gradually I learned that I never really was alone. I could feel you there by my side. And there was no companionship I would rather have than yours!
And with no wife or kids, I had so much time and energy to get involved in some really great service projects... Serving food to the hungry. Building houses for the homeless. Visiting people in prisons. You were there too. Boy, nothing in the world gave me a better feeling than seeing people's faces when you'd done something good for them.
Christ: There are very few who gain as profound an understanding of the whole meaning of life as you have.
Interviewee #2: I was blessed. I was always so blessed. Thank you!
Christ: What do you think you've learned from all this?
Interviewee #2: Well, I learned the value of patience, and how friendships can be blessed and deepened by it. And I learned a LOT about the value of obedience, and how it can teach us to be stronger than we ever imagined possible. And I learned the pure joy of service. And of course I learned about the nature of love.
Christ: Well, we have some very important work for you to do that requires just those skills! Congratulations! You made it!
So I have one final question for you, and I want you to be completely honest. Would you still like to continue single, or are you interested in the possibility of finding a partner going forward?
Interviewee #2: A partner, please!! That's what I've been saving myself for! I've had enough loneliness for all eternity.
Christ: Male or female?
Interviewee #2: I can choose? But, um, suppose I choose a woman... There wouldn't be any issues with, um, you know...
Christ: No, it's possible to work that out.
Interviewee #2: Well, I love women, so let's make it a woman.
Christ: Good choice.
*****
Interview #3
Christ: So I understand you are gay and you found a life-partner of the same sex, though you faced some very difficult social challenges. What was that like?
Interviewee #3: Well, I couldn't have done it without my husband. We were there for each other through rejection by our churches, job discrimination, alienation from our families. We had to learn to really make extra effort to be there for each other, because all of those stresses took a toll on us, and sometimes made it hard for us to give as much as the other needed. And we managed to stay faithful to each other too, despite the usual temptations. As a result the mutual love that grew between us was incredible. And it taught us how to give to others as well, and gave us a foundation to give service to the broader community. And we adopted two children, and just can't imagine what our life would have been like without them!
Of course, I also had to wrestle with my anger. People could be so hateful, and could say and do things that made us feel like shit, like the scum of the earth. I felt so crushed and betrayed by the Church. So often, I even lost faith in you, and believed that you didn't love me either. I almost committed suicide at one point. But you were there for me, and I learned to rely on you. And I gradually learned that in order to survive I had to come to terms with my anger, and learn to forgive others for what they had done. And when I did, I realized what an incredible gift that was! I realized that there is no love that even compares to the love that we return for hate. What an amazing gift!
And so often there was just incredible self-doubt that tormented me. How could I be right, when it seemed like the whole world disapproved of me? At least the part of the world that really mattered to me -- the Church, our families. But I knew that our love was a good thing, and choosing each other and taking care of each other the way we did was the right thing to do, even when everyone else called it a "sin." Learning to stand up for what you know is right, even when no one else has faith in you... It came in handy in lots of important situations. I'd say it was worth it.
Christ: I'd say you've done well with the gifts you were given.
Interviewee #3: Thanks for helping me with that!
Christ: What do you think you've learned from all this?
Interviewee #3: Well, of course with my spouse I learned the value of communication and fidelity in helping us build a love that made life worth living. And of course I learned a LOT of patience! And courage to stand up for what is right. And of course I learned about the nature of love.
Christ: Well, we have some very important work for you to do that requires just those skills! Congratulations! You made it!
Interviewee #3: You mean you're not sending us to hell?
Christ: (smiling) No, you've done enough time in hell. We need you in Heaven, even if only to ruffle the feathers of the "righteous"!
So I have one final question for you, and I want you to be completely honest. How do you feel about remaining together with your lovely spouse for all eternity?
Interviewee #3: You're not going to split us up now, are you? After all we've been through, I can't imagine continuing without him!
Christ: No, if that's what you want, you and your husband may look forward to learning and growing together forever.
Interviewee #3: But what about our kids, can we be with them too?
Christ: Yes, we can make arrangements for you to be with the kids too.
Interviewee #3: Yippee!
Interview #1
Christ: So I understand you are homosexual, but were married to a woman your whole life. What was that like?
Interviewee #1: Well, as you can imagine, it was very challenging. I followed the advice of Church leaders and got married, believing that if I did my sexual orientation would eventually change. It never did. And as I gradually realized that it wouldn't, I was disappointed, angry, depressed. I almost lost faith in my Church leaders and even in you. But I hung in there, and gradually I realized that there were other blessings that helped keep me going. I sure love my children! They made everything else worth it.
It was really hard for my wife, too, as you can imagine. She had to be twice as disappointed and frustrated as I was, once she realized I could never be the kind of husband she thought she was marrying. Boy did we argue sometimes, and we both said things we later regretted. There were times when we thought our marriage would never make it. But we hung in there. Boy, do I love her! The temptation to be unfaithful was very difficult, and there was even a time when I failed her in that regard. But somehow she was able to forgive me, and I went through a repentance process. And in the end, we realized we had something precious, even if it wasn't what we had initially hoped.
Even though we were surrounded and supported by friends, family, and Church, there were times when we felt so alone. People loved us, but they just never could understand what we were going through. Sometimes we thought we would go crazy. But we learned to reach out and rely on others more. And we learned how precious our relationships were to our extended family and members of our ward.
Christ: You're fortunate. It didn't work out so well for most people in your situation.
Interviewee #1: Oh, I know. I know.
Christ: What do you think you've learned from all this?
Interviewee #1: Well, I learned the value of obedience and how unexpected blessings can come from it. And I learned a LOT about communication and fidelity. And I learned how nothing important in life can be achieved without recognizing our interdependence. And of course I learned about the nature of love.
Christ: Well, we have some very important work for you to do that requires just those skills! Congratulations! You made it!
So I have one final question for you, and I want you to be completely honest. How do you feel about remaining together with your lovely spouse for all eternity?
Interviewee #1: Well, we've made it together this far. All of life's most important lessons, I learned from her. I can't imagine continuing without her.
But, um. I'm wondering, could you arrange for us to have a little more 'umph' in our marriage going forward? If you know what I mean?
Christ: (laughing) Yes, I know what you mean. And yes, I think adding a little more 'umph' to your marriage will be possible.
Interviewee #1: Yippee!
*****
Interview #2
Christ: So I understand you are same-sex attracted and consequently you chose to remain celibate your entire life. What was that like?
Interviewee #2: Well, as you can imagine, it was very challenging. Members of the Church, friends and family tried to be supportive, I think. Their hearts were in the right place, but so often they just didn't get it. Sometimes there were things said in Sunday School and Priesthood meeting that made me just want to get up and scream. But I didn't. And gradually some folks figured it out, and I learned not to get upset by the ones that didn't.
But the hardest thing, as you can imagine, was the loneliness. Sometimes it was just grinding. It felt like I was dying. Sometimes I was so angry at Church leaders who counseled me to stay celibate. I thought, "What do they know? They're married! They have a wife and kids to go home to." Sometimes I felt like just giving up on the Church, even on you. But I hung in there. And I discovered strengths I never thought I had. And gradually I learned that I never really was alone. I could feel you there by my side. And there was no companionship I would rather have than yours!
And with no wife or kids, I had so much time and energy to get involved in some really great service projects... Serving food to the hungry. Building houses for the homeless. Visiting people in prisons. You were there too. Boy, nothing in the world gave me a better feeling than seeing people's faces when you'd done something good for them.
Christ: There are very few who gain as profound an understanding of the whole meaning of life as you have.
Interviewee #2: I was blessed. I was always so blessed. Thank you!
Christ: What do you think you've learned from all this?
Interviewee #2: Well, I learned the value of patience, and how friendships can be blessed and deepened by it. And I learned a LOT about the value of obedience, and how it can teach us to be stronger than we ever imagined possible. And I learned the pure joy of service. And of course I learned about the nature of love.
Christ: Well, we have some very important work for you to do that requires just those skills! Congratulations! You made it!
So I have one final question for you, and I want you to be completely honest. Would you still like to continue single, or are you interested in the possibility of finding a partner going forward?
Interviewee #2: A partner, please!! That's what I've been saving myself for! I've had enough loneliness for all eternity.
Christ: Male or female?
Interviewee #2: I can choose? But, um, suppose I choose a woman... There wouldn't be any issues with, um, you know...
Christ: No, it's possible to work that out.
Interviewee #2: Well, I love women, so let's make it a woman.
Christ: Good choice.
*****
Interview #3
Christ: So I understand you are gay and you found a life-partner of the same sex, though you faced some very difficult social challenges. What was that like?
Interviewee #3: Well, I couldn't have done it without my husband. We were there for each other through rejection by our churches, job discrimination, alienation from our families. We had to learn to really make extra effort to be there for each other, because all of those stresses took a toll on us, and sometimes made it hard for us to give as much as the other needed. And we managed to stay faithful to each other too, despite the usual temptations. As a result the mutual love that grew between us was incredible. And it taught us how to give to others as well, and gave us a foundation to give service to the broader community. And we adopted two children, and just can't imagine what our life would have been like without them!
Of course, I also had to wrestle with my anger. People could be so hateful, and could say and do things that made us feel like shit, like the scum of the earth. I felt so crushed and betrayed by the Church. So often, I even lost faith in you, and believed that you didn't love me either. I almost committed suicide at one point. But you were there for me, and I learned to rely on you. And I gradually learned that in order to survive I had to come to terms with my anger, and learn to forgive others for what they had done. And when I did, I realized what an incredible gift that was! I realized that there is no love that even compares to the love that we return for hate. What an amazing gift!
And so often there was just incredible self-doubt that tormented me. How could I be right, when it seemed like the whole world disapproved of me? At least the part of the world that really mattered to me -- the Church, our families. But I knew that our love was a good thing, and choosing each other and taking care of each other the way we did was the right thing to do, even when everyone else called it a "sin." Learning to stand up for what you know is right, even when no one else has faith in you... It came in handy in lots of important situations. I'd say it was worth it.
Christ: I'd say you've done well with the gifts you were given.
Interviewee #3: Thanks for helping me with that!
Christ: What do you think you've learned from all this?
Interviewee #3: Well, of course with my spouse I learned the value of communication and fidelity in helping us build a love that made life worth living. And of course I learned a LOT of patience! And courage to stand up for what is right. And of course I learned about the nature of love.
Christ: Well, we have some very important work for you to do that requires just those skills! Congratulations! You made it!
Interviewee #3: You mean you're not sending us to hell?
Christ: (smiling) No, you've done enough time in hell. We need you in Heaven, even if only to ruffle the feathers of the "righteous"!
So I have one final question for you, and I want you to be completely honest. How do you feel about remaining together with your lovely spouse for all eternity?
Interviewee #3: You're not going to split us up now, are you? After all we've been through, I can't imagine continuing without him!
Christ: No, if that's what you want, you and your husband may look forward to learning and growing together forever.
Interviewee #3: But what about our kids, can we be with them too?
Christ: Yes, we can make arrangements for you to be with the kids too.
Interviewee #3: Yippee!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Sodom or Zion? Nineveh?
One of the bitterest bones of contention in the American culture wars of the last century had to do with the question of how Jesus would come again. The premillennialists believed that the world would necessarily become more and more wicked until God broke the seals on the book of destiny and poured out devouring, purifying plagues and destruction upon the earth. The postmillennialists believed that humankind would gradually become better, until they had perfected society and made the world a suitable dwelling place for God; when Christ had gradually perfected his reign in the hearts of each inhabitant of the world, then and only then could he assume his rightful place as worldly ruler.
Polemicists of these two views of the world portrayed their opponents in the worst possible terms. Premillennialists accused postmillennialists of faithlessness and sin. Postmillennialists accused premillennialists of bigotry and willful ignorance. Churches divided over this issue. The propaganda machines spun in full gear. Hate and fear thrived, and faith... Well, the advocates of the various sides thought they had the only true faith.
The echoes of these culture wars from a century ago still resonate today, though Americans don't fight over this particular issue with the same fervor they did a hundred years ago. The "burning" issues that provide fodder for our cultural cannons are abortion and same-sex marriage. But, even though we may think we are fighting different battles, the truth is, anger, contention and war are always and ever and eternally the same. Contention just assumes different masks to keep us interested in the game.
When I read the accounts of these culture wars from the turn of the twentieth century, I am struck by a profound scriptural truth that seems relevant to the question of when and how Christ will come again. We choose.
Scripture teaches us of Sodom -- the city that became so wicked, God was compelled to wipe it and its inhabitants off the face of the planet. How did it become so wicked? Because that is the path its inhabitants chose.
Then there was the city of Enoch, called Zion, the city that became so righteous, so pure in heart, that there was no hate, no distinction. All things were had in common. And that city became so righteous, God was compelled to bring it up to Heaven, translating its inhabitants in the twinkling of an eye. How did Zion become so righteous? Because that is the path its inhabitants chose.
And I think of Nineveh. Jonah was commanded to go to Nineveh and prophesy: Because of their wickedness they would become like Sodom. They would be destroyed. But Nineveh repented! That prophecy went from a prediction of what will happen to a warning of what might have happened.
Aren't we like Nineveh? Are not both courses always before us? The course of destruction and the course of salvation? Don't we choose which way Christ will come again?
Polemicists of these two views of the world portrayed their opponents in the worst possible terms. Premillennialists accused postmillennialists of faithlessness and sin. Postmillennialists accused premillennialists of bigotry and willful ignorance. Churches divided over this issue. The propaganda machines spun in full gear. Hate and fear thrived, and faith... Well, the advocates of the various sides thought they had the only true faith.
The echoes of these culture wars from a century ago still resonate today, though Americans don't fight over this particular issue with the same fervor they did a hundred years ago. The "burning" issues that provide fodder for our cultural cannons are abortion and same-sex marriage. But, even though we may think we are fighting different battles, the truth is, anger, contention and war are always and ever and eternally the same. Contention just assumes different masks to keep us interested in the game.
When I read the accounts of these culture wars from the turn of the twentieth century, I am struck by a profound scriptural truth that seems relevant to the question of when and how Christ will come again. We choose.
Scripture teaches us of Sodom -- the city that became so wicked, God was compelled to wipe it and its inhabitants off the face of the planet. How did it become so wicked? Because that is the path its inhabitants chose.
Then there was the city of Enoch, called Zion, the city that became so righteous, so pure in heart, that there was no hate, no distinction. All things were had in common. And that city became so righteous, God was compelled to bring it up to Heaven, translating its inhabitants in the twinkling of an eye. How did Zion become so righteous? Because that is the path its inhabitants chose.
And I think of Nineveh. Jonah was commanded to go to Nineveh and prophesy: Because of their wickedness they would become like Sodom. They would be destroyed. But Nineveh repented! That prophecy went from a prediction of what will happen to a warning of what might have happened.
Aren't we like Nineveh? Are not both courses always before us? The course of destruction and the course of salvation? Don't we choose which way Christ will come again?
Friday, November 7, 2008
A Bit Disturbed
This morning on CNN I saw coverage of the protests outside the LDS Church headquarters in L.A., and I have to admit I found them a bit disturbing.
It was not the fact of the protests in themselves that upset me. The LDS Church entered the political sphere in a big way, providing half the funding for the Prop 8 campaign, and ordering its members to work to promote Prop 8. If the Church acts as a political entity, then it needs to be prepared to be criticized as a political entity. People have a right to express themselves and have a right to protest actions by the Church that they feel are unjust.
I should add that I do not believe the Church has no right to enter the political sphere or to engage in political action. I do not adhere to the notion of "separate spheres" in which religion reigns supreme in supposedly pure realms of spirit and faith that have nothing to do with what goes on in the real world, while science and government reign supreme in purely material, physical realms that have nothing to do with faith. For me, religion encompasses the whole of life and has ethics as a central concern, which situates it squarely in the "real" world of human relations and politics. Politics and religion are and always have been and always will be inextricably enmeshed with one another. America has established a political order in which religious institutions receive no financial support, are not taxed, and receive no special legal considerations, and in which Americans are free to affiliate or not affiliate with religious institutions. That "wall of separation" between church and state has been an essential foundation of America's religious peace, and I support it without question. But I do not believe it is inappropriate for churches to weigh in on political issues.
I should add, the United Church of Christ (UCC) has expressed strong support for same-sex marriage, and urges its members to work politically for marriage equality. The spiritual streams that come together in the UCC -- the Congregational/Puritan, Christian/Disciples, and Evangelical and Reformed traditions -- are rich with political activism and involvement in America -- from the anti-slavery movement in the antebellum years, to the Social Gospel at the turn of the century, to their present involvement in movements for peace, social justice, and gay rights. They've gotten remarkably little news coverage for taking their recent stance in support of gay marriage. But if I don't complain about that, I have no right to complain about the LDS Church doing the opposite. As I said, of course, a church that wishes to dirty its hands in politics, must expect to pay a political price. That is as true of the UCC, which has been criticized by conservative groups for its pro-gay stance, as it is of the LDS Church, which must now endure criticism from liberal groups.
But there is a line we must not cross. Earlier this summer, a Unitarian Church in Tennessee became the target of a brutal shooting attack because of its pro-gay stance. What disturbs me about the anti-LDS protests, at least as I've seen them, is the anti-Mormon animus that seems to infuse many of them. I got a comment on another post in which someone anonymously used the epithet "cult" against the LDS Church. And the slogans I've seen on some of the signs attacking Mormon polygamy, describing Mormons as "filthy," and so on worries me. Beyond just being counterproductive, for me (and I'm sure for many Mormons) it raises the specter of a time when Mormons were mobbed, whipped, tarred and feathered, killed and exiled in the name of American "freedom."
I wish we wouldn't go there. Let the protesters stay focused on what this is really about: the right to marry, building a society in which all members have an equal stake, promoting love and commitment, and building and protecting real families. If we focus on the good we want, we will eventually achieve it. If we focus on negativity and hate, that may be what we get instead in the end.
It was not the fact of the protests in themselves that upset me. The LDS Church entered the political sphere in a big way, providing half the funding for the Prop 8 campaign, and ordering its members to work to promote Prop 8. If the Church acts as a political entity, then it needs to be prepared to be criticized as a political entity. People have a right to express themselves and have a right to protest actions by the Church that they feel are unjust.
I should add that I do not believe the Church has no right to enter the political sphere or to engage in political action. I do not adhere to the notion of "separate spheres" in which religion reigns supreme in supposedly pure realms of spirit and faith that have nothing to do with what goes on in the real world, while science and government reign supreme in purely material, physical realms that have nothing to do with faith. For me, religion encompasses the whole of life and has ethics as a central concern, which situates it squarely in the "real" world of human relations and politics. Politics and religion are and always have been and always will be inextricably enmeshed with one another. America has established a political order in which religious institutions receive no financial support, are not taxed, and receive no special legal considerations, and in which Americans are free to affiliate or not affiliate with religious institutions. That "wall of separation" between church and state has been an essential foundation of America's religious peace, and I support it without question. But I do not believe it is inappropriate for churches to weigh in on political issues.
I should add, the United Church of Christ (UCC) has expressed strong support for same-sex marriage, and urges its members to work politically for marriage equality. The spiritual streams that come together in the UCC -- the Congregational/Puritan, Christian/Disciples, and Evangelical and Reformed traditions -- are rich with political activism and involvement in America -- from the anti-slavery movement in the antebellum years, to the Social Gospel at the turn of the century, to their present involvement in movements for peace, social justice, and gay rights. They've gotten remarkably little news coverage for taking their recent stance in support of gay marriage. But if I don't complain about that, I have no right to complain about the LDS Church doing the opposite. As I said, of course, a church that wishes to dirty its hands in politics, must expect to pay a political price. That is as true of the UCC, which has been criticized by conservative groups for its pro-gay stance, as it is of the LDS Church, which must now endure criticism from liberal groups.
But there is a line we must not cross. Earlier this summer, a Unitarian Church in Tennessee became the target of a brutal shooting attack because of its pro-gay stance. What disturbs me about the anti-LDS protests, at least as I've seen them, is the anti-Mormon animus that seems to infuse many of them. I got a comment on another post in which someone anonymously used the epithet "cult" against the LDS Church. And the slogans I've seen on some of the signs attacking Mormon polygamy, describing Mormons as "filthy," and so on worries me. Beyond just being counterproductive, for me (and I'm sure for many Mormons) it raises the specter of a time when Mormons were mobbed, whipped, tarred and feathered, killed and exiled in the name of American "freedom."
I wish we wouldn't go there. Let the protesters stay focused on what this is really about: the right to marry, building a society in which all members have an equal stake, promoting love and commitment, and building and protecting real families. If we focus on the good we want, we will eventually achieve it. If we focus on negativity and hate, that may be what we get instead in the end.
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