Interim Post: A Few Sincere Questions

Below you'll find an email conversation between me and a new friend from church. Here's some background. After the First Presidency of the LDS church released its statement on its continued stance against same-sex marriage (as well as its continuing commitment to fight for basically all other civil rights and compassion for LGBT individuals), I wrestled with how to teach this message to the youth. Perhaps it is no coincidence that the letter and the ensuing Sunday discussions occurred during a month with the instructional theme "Marriage and Family." After talking with the young men I teach about how they might teach their friends and people in their future mission fields about the subject, I received the following email.

I share this because I think it is a wonderful example of how dialogue between members of the church about troubling issues should work. There are so many bad examples out there, I thought it might be nice to read some positive disagreement.

I'm sure I've made errors of judgment and fact in the exchange, and you're welcome to critique them. But this is the raw, uncut dialogue. I think the realness is part of the lesson. 

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Subject: A Few Sincere Questions

Dave,

I very much appreciated both your testimony and your lesson today.  The controlled environment of role playing allowed our priests to see what kind of situations they might come across, and a glimpse of how hard some conversations can be (you took it pretty easy on them, and it was still a struggle!).

Having seen your posts on Facebook regarding gay marriage, I didn't know how you would handle the topic in a Priests Quorum setting, and I was actually surprised that you chose to bring it up again this week.

In your testimony you mentioned that you've had a number of friends leave the Church in recent years (due, no doubt, to issues like these), and that you've had to work through your thoughts and feelings to the point where you've chosen to stay (and I am so happy that you have).  I've had a similar experience.  I too have had friends leave the Church, and my soul has squirmed more than a few times during the political/moral upheaval of the past few years.  I've had to examine my own perspectives on homosexuality, feminism, etc.  While I can't say that I advocate for gay marriage, I am certainly an advocate of dialogue, understanding, and compassion.  From what I see on Facebook, you lean in favor of gay marriage, [despite?] your testimony of prophets and the truthfulness of the gospel they preach.  Before I go any further, please, please, please, know that I am not judging or criticizing you.  I admire you, and it has already been a joy to work with you.  I simply want to understand where you're coming from.  So, I've got a few sincere questions I've been meaning to ask you:

1. What are your honest beliefs and feelings about homosexuality/gay marriage?

2. If you support gay marriage, and/or are okay with homosexuality, how do you reconcile that with what the leadership of the Church has declared in response to recent events?

3. What has your introspective process been like as you've tried to navigate these ideas/doctrines/issues?

I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you to the fringe.  I'm not accusing you of heresy by any means!  I (and likely many other members) have been going through a similar period of searching and introspection, and I mourn for so many who have chosen to step away from a Church and a Gospel that has blessed them so much during their years of activity.  And yet, I have a handful of friends who, like you (I think), have maintained a pro-gay marriage stance while remaining devout, active, contributing members of the Church.  I just want to understand that mentality :)

It would mean a lot if you could respond.  I'm totally down to talk about it in person, or if you'd prefer to e-mail back that's cool too.  You're the man.

Thanks,

X

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Hi X,

Thanks for the email. I'll try to do your questions justice in writing. But I'm happy to continue the dialogue in person should clarification prove necessary. This is certainly more than you bargained for:

1. What are your honest beliefs and feelings about homosexuality/gay marriage?

I think we got so hung up on the idea of "marriage" being a religious icon that we forgot that we're also a country that values equality under the law. People don't get special or worse treatment because of who they are. If there are certain statutes about marriage (i.e. the only two I know of are age of consent and monogamy) they should apply whether two men or two women or a man and a woman wish to avail themselves of them. Tradition, not law, prevented gay marriage, and the attempts to retroactively retool the wording of laws and statutes struck me as typically mean-spirited and politically expedient for base demagogues. Problem was, they got everyone to buy in. 

If nothing else, the state has a duty to ensure that there are incentives for individuals who love each other to build a home together and a community with their neighbors. As a believer in marriage, I think marriage provides the stable foundation necessary for a community to flourish, and rewriting laws in ways that push a significant minority of our brothers and sisters to the unseen margins contributes, more than anything else, to damaging behaviors. In fact, I believe it is the stigma against LGBTQ individuals that contributes more than anything else to the immorality and riskiness that so many label "the gay lifestyle."

There is nothing inherently risky or immoral about homosexuality. Rather, when we push it into the shadows, we give the adversary an opportunity to twist sexuality into something immoral and dangerous. That holds true for the entire spectrum of sexualities. Thus, in a sense, I believe traditional (if we want to use that term) society and morality is responsible for the occasional perversion (i.e. child abuse) and health concerns (i.e. HIV) that the same traditional community uses to condemn homosexuality outright. Of course child abuse is evil. But it is not, as so many have fallaciously claimed, endemic or causal to homosexuality. Nor is the spread of HIV the fault of gay men. It is the result of unChristlike judgment and hatred. 

As for homosexuality itself, I believe it is usually not a person's choice (though of course, in some cases, it is), but rather an innate sense of what gender they are attracted to, both romantically and physically. I cannot explain why I'm attracted to my wife. I don't presume to provide alternate explanations of why a man is attracted to men or a woman to women or both to both. 

On a larger scale, history and biology make a pretty clear case that homosexuality has always been a part of not only human society, but also occurs regularly across species that reproduce sexually. Thus I find the explanation that homosexuality is inherently sinful to really be an indictment of God's plan of salvation. Why would he give some individuals same sex attraction and not others? Within the current doctrine of the church, there does not seem to be a way for LGBTQ individuals to exist in a loving, monogamous relationship. I'm troubled by that. We seem to be dooming some of our brothers and sisters to a lonely existence on this earth simply because God made them a certain way. That bothers me enough to believe that we're missing something in our understanding of God's plan.

2. If you support gay marriage, and/or are okay with homosexuality, how do you reconcile that with what the leadership of the Church has declared in response to recent events?

To put it bluntly, I think the leadership is sometimes wrong, especially on this issue. I believe that, like the priesthood ban, either an older generation of church leaders aren't prepared to receive further explanatory revelation on the subject or that, as a church body, we're unable to receive that truth. The progress of generations will bring that light and knowledge eventually, correcting one or both of those obstacles as needed. I don't find that testimony-breaking. Rather, I find it to coincide with everything I've ever learned about prophets. But I also don't think I'm completely right. I have no doubt that my explanatory framework above smacks of imperfect reasoning and assumptions. So, in the absence of further light and knowledge about the plan of salvation, I'm content to follow the prophet while still perhaps disagreeing with him on this topic. For me, that dissonance actually gives more meaning to the sustaining vote I give him 4 times a year.

Of course, I don't preach my views from the pulpit if they contradict current prophetic teachings. I do, as appropriate, try to humbly correct falsehoods about homosexuality that migrate from old or bad social science into the mouths of fellow members. But more importantly, I exercise my agency and the great gift of personal revelation to put general authorities' statements about homosexuality to the test. I typically find kernels of truth in them, but I also find things that don't feel right or correct. Encouragingly, I have also seen the leaders of the Church slowly correct false conceptions about homosexuality. For example, the Church reversed its position on the provenance of homosexuality several years ago. They now counsel church leaders like bishops that, in most cases, homosexuality isn't a choice and can't be "healed." That's a significant change from just 10 years ago. It can be maddeningly slow, but I believe the church is moving in the right direction. I pray for my leaders and I pray for the humility to follow them. As an example, I'm contemplating posting my responses to your questions on my blog. I (probably pridefully) think that our exchange might benefit others. But if our stake president asked me to take it down, I would. Why?

For me, the good that many can do outweighs the good I could do as an unprophetic voice of change. Thus, I believe more good can be attained by faithfully and actively serving in the church than can be attained by cutting myself off from it out of self-righteous pride, even if that pride comes from being right. Thus, I find the choice that some make to leave the church for reasons of conscience to be lazy and self-serving. They sacrifice the difficulty of serving in the Lord's hospital for the ease of a self-satisfied conscience. That may seem harsh, and it shouldn't detract from the good work many former members of the church do in the community to correct abuses of power and crimes committed by others in our community. Nor does it intimate that I, somehow, am more righteous or courageous than they are. But in terms of this particular choice, that's the stark realization I've come to. I believe, with a little humility, they could find ways to be an incredible asset to the church and still perform many of the vital actions they perform outside of church membership (helping victims of polygamy, child abuse, unrighteous dominion, etc.). And that opinion is absolutely a judgment, but it's a judgment I had to perform. I had to decide whether to follow them or not, so judgment was 100% on the agenda.

So for me, it comes down to a question: Would I rather be smugly right and detached from God's mouthpiece or often uncomfortably "right" (and even sometimes silenced) but attached to him. My testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, the divine nature of Joseph Smith's calling, and the reality of the atonement of Jesus Christ (and its whole purpose!) have lead me to stay. 

3. What has your introspective process been like as you've tried to navigate these ideas/doctrines/issues?

 A constant battle between pride and humility. Between stomach-churning unease/anger and soul-restoring revelation. Like I told the priests on Sunday. When you are talking with investigators (or class members, home teaching families, your own children, etc.), testify of what you know 100%. That will bring the Spirit. And once you have that companionship, then you can begin to explore the practicalities of living in a world full of gray spaces. 

Perhaps that's the best place to end. Gray spaces. Undergirding all of this, I believe our loving Heavenly Father sets us up to flounder in gray spaces like this. Spaces where we have only shadows of scripture and prophetic insight to guide us. It is in these places that I believe some of the most important tests of mortality take place. Why? Because the Lord wants to see how we navigate the cognitive dissonance of obedience and individual conscience. Of tradition and compassion. Of pride and humility. Of dogma and flexibility. It is in the gray areas that we show him that we are thinking before we act (or not thinking, as the case may be). Most importantly, when we have gray spaces, the areas that bother us, that cause unease and dissonance in our souls, there will without fail follow a moment that tests our ability to rely on Him. For me, teaching the priests about how to teach others about the Church's stance on same-sex marriage was one of those tests. I had to balance all of my inner contradictions and rely on Heavenly Father to guide me as to what to say to those young men on this subject in that moment. I hope the results were helpful. I don't presume to think they were spiritually breathtaking. But the process of preparation for yesterday's lesson was spiritually uplifting for me, at the very least. And one more sliver of Heavenly Father's plan was revealed to me as a result. So, sliver by sliver, I rejoice in the gray areas of the gospel and the chance to demonstrate to my Savior that I am thinking, breathing, struggling, (but still following) disciple. 

So there you go. If you don't object, I'd like to post our exchange (anonymized) on my blog. Of course, anyone that wants to do too much research would quickly piece together that there are only so many people who work with the priests in our ward. So if you aren't comfortable with that level of anonymity, I'll just post my answers to your questions. 

I think it would be a good interlude to a longer discussion I'm working on in that space. Thanks for the opportunity to articulate my thoughts and, by so doing, clarify them. 

All the best,

Dave

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Dave,

Thanks for that beautifully articulated response.  Seriously, I appreciate it.  I have no objections whatsoever to your posting this in your blog!  I don't care if you use my name either.  It's just a decent conversation about something that matters.  I thought you might enjoy the time and space to respond in text, although in-person conversations are great.  Sometimes it helps to formulate thoughts better when you can read over them and word them well.

I think you're absolutely right that many assertions regarding homosexuality are steeped in tradition and culture rather than truth or even just good research.  And those assertions are often propagated by discomfort, or even a xenophobic hatred.  That's pretty human.  Or should I say, that's very characteristic of the natural man.  I think our growth and development as a society and as God's family is reflective of our individual repentance.  We tend to be slow, and to struggle in the micro scale, so it only makes sense that macro-repentance would take a long time.

And as you mentioned, I know that we don't have all the puzzle pieces to see the entirety of God's plan, or the truths and laws that allow it to function.  Living by faith is tough sometimes.  Navigating these issues the past few years has been a roller coaster for me.  For a while I had to stop reading all the articles online because the conflict and contention coming from both sides just left me feeling sick.  I generally don't read op-eds anymore for that reason.  They tend to fan the flames of the ideological war, leaving supporters even more self-assured and detractors even more disgusted.  That's why I much prefer to have conversations like this, with people like you who can step back from passion and zeal, and let the Spirit guide a more reasonable, compassionate dialogue.

I don't think my gut feelings are the same as yours when it comes to the leadership being wrong on this point.  I fully agree that prophets and apostles are fallible men, and the scriptures are rife with examples.  Joseph Smith was chastised all throughout the Doctrine & Covenants, and there's plenty more that wasn't included.  From Adam to the present they've all been imperfect, even while serving in those prophetic roles.  It fills me with awe and hope to know that the Lord is willing to work with such weak and flawed individuals, but then again, we are all his family.  It's hard to think of people that way if they're not part of our earthly family, but they really are our siblings.  We're really jerks to our brothers and sisters sometimes.  Anyway, you said that you find it hard to believe that God would make some individuals with the tendency toward homosexuality and then deny them the possibility of a monogamous relationship.  I've thought about that too, and it does indeed seem a cruel fate.  There are also many who are unable to marry because they simply aren't attractive enough, whether by looks, personality, or disability.
 
The same question can be asked of people in their situation.  Why would God relegate them to a life of loneliness while so many others are able to enjoy intimate, loving relationships?  In their case, it's not even a matter of societal opposition to their partnerships; they haven't even been able to secure the affections of a partner.  Did God tailor that trial to them individually?  Did God hand pick those who would have to work through homosexual tendencies?  I don't know.  I guess the broader question we might ponder is how much does God tinker with our individual genetics before sending us into the test of life?  Or does he at all?  Are our trials crafted by design?  Are some, but not all?  My inclination is that homosexuality is one of many possible struggles that a human may have to deal with during his or her time on Earth.  It's rough for those who choose to live by the prophets' counsel, but I truly think it will be worth it for them in the end, just as it will be worth it for me to remain faithful to my wife.

 Those are my thoughts anyway, and I certainly don't proclaim them as doctrine.

Perhaps the most moving portion of your response, for me, was your explanation of how and why you remain an active member, and how meaningful your sustaining vote is.  I loved your discussion of personal revelation, and I think it's a vastly under-used tool.  I wish more of us members would take those things seriously.  I know I need to work on that.  I completely echo your sentiments about those who leave the Church.  We are losing some good, strong people who could be such a blessing to the rest of the membership because of their perspective.  I know it can be frustrating and wearisome to work alongside members who maintain conflicting ideas and beliefs on topics as sensitive as this, especially if they are disagreeable in their disagreement.  And at the same time, those who leave are missing out on that same fellowship and community, let alone the blessings that come from covenant keeping.  Your explanation leads me to admire you even more for your willingness to move past your inner battles so you can continue to pitch in to the work of the Lord.  We need you, and I know our ward is better for your diligent service.  And I, for one, appreciate being able to talk with someone about this sort of thing on an intellectual and spiritual level.

Thanks again for taking the time to respond, and feel free to include this in your blog.  See you on Thursday!

X

Scriptural Gem: The Power of Friends

I know, I know. I've been incredibly remiss in my blogging. I've left a chapter of The Road to Middoni halfway completed. Shameful behavior.

This is likely the busiest I have been in a long, long time, and I apologize for not keeping up with this project. I'm hoping to slowly begin posting more, and to get back in the full swing of things by the beginning of winter. Think of it like a Christmas present!

In the meantime, I thought I'd share something I hadn't noticed before about the intercessory prayer found in John 17.

I'll be honest that I've often read this chapter with my mind glazed-over. The nuanced and convoluted language of the King James translation sends me packing for the easy interpretations of official manuals and sound bite scripture masteries.

But, seeking some peace and focus in my morning, I opened randomly to John. To push past the mind glazing, I read the chapter outloud to myself in my office. And I had the remarkable good fortune to learn about friendship.

The intercessory prayer's chronology is difficult to pin down. John takes us straight from this prayer to Christ's betrayal and arrest, so I've always read it as an intimate glimpse into Gethsemane, a more complex background to the more well-known "let this cup pass, but thy will be done" narrative.

With my self-imposed chronology, I read the chapter looking to gain insight into the Savior's path to Atonement. What ultimately brought him to make the ultimate sacrifice? What drove him to suffer for all humankind?

In verses 16 and 17, Christ talks about his disciples, aware of the difficulties they will face the rest of their lives: "They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth." He pleads with his Father to strengthen and sanctify them. It clear that his love for them is not ordinary. Christ loves everyone, but he has a special sort of love for the men and women who have listened to him, followed him, and tried to build new lives by becoming like him. They have experienced trials together, they have argued together, and they have forgiven each other. They are more than disciples; they are fast friends.

And then, in verse 19, we get this: "And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth." In the moments before his expiatory agony, Christ reveals that, when it comes down to it, he's doing this for them. No doubt his Atonement will have universal impact and bless countless people. I think Christ is quite cognizant of those facts. He likely understood them better at that moment than I do now. But in the end, his lonely walk, his final prayers, his fearful agony are all embraced because he knows he is saving his friends.

This idea inspires and moves me to tears. That a perfect man, a perfect God, could look for and receive strength from the passel of good-natured, humble, sincere, bumbling, prideful, simple, and loyal group of fishermen, publicans, and sinners.

I have always had the strange struggle of feeling much closer to Heavenly Father than I do to Jesus Christ. I'm not sure why. Perhaps the conceptual framework of a father-son relationship and the constant prayers in his direction was easier for me to build upon.

But it's verses like these, verses that show the depth of love and humanity possessed by the Savior, that inspire me to try and follow him. To, perhaps, become one of those friends who brings the Savior joy and comfort. Just like he has always brought such joy and comfort to me. 

The Road to Middoni: In Your Mind and In Your Heart (Part III)

So, how does all this--the promise and problem of D&C 8:2--apply to revoking the priesthood ban? It’s my contention that the prophets prior to Spencer W. Kimball did not feel this coalescence of mind and heart, and the reason they did not feel it is because they did not allow all of God’s teaching to dwell in their heart in the matter of racial equality. Now let’s be 100% clear here. I am not saying these prophets consciously committed sin nor am I saying they maliciously held on to racial prejudice. Instead, I’m saying that they learned and even propagated misconceptions that made logical sense to them but did not come from God. In this, they were exactly like every other person trying to make sense of the world using, as we must, a combination of divine light and common sense.

It’s also important to recognize that these men were leaps and jumps ahead of us in terms of their spirituality, too. They were brave where we might not be, courageously maintaining other, true principles in a societal onslaught against those values. They dealt with daily problems and solved the vast majority of them in the way the Savior himself would have. But they were not perfect. The Lord knew that, and we should learn that. We will end our discussion this chapter with an analysis of what these logical imperfections were, where they came from, and how they prevented these choice men from seeing what the Lord wished to show them. We’ll also look closely at Spencer W. Kimball to learn how he was able to escape these same prejudices. Both examples, of failure and success, should be instructive to us as we tread the same path towards greater light and knowledge from Heavenly Father.

As major sources for what follow, Greg Prince’s David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism, Armand Mauss’s All Abraham’s Children: Changing Mormon Conceptions of Race and Lineage, and years worth of online and intellectual discussion on sites like fairmormon.org, mormonthink.com, and the entire Mormon bloggernacle and in journals like Dialogue (especially Lester Bush’s groundbreaking 1973 essay) have all contributed to my understanding along with my own fasting, prayer, and scripture study. I recommend these sources for those interested in reviewing the existing discussion for themselves.

President McKay and the Dissonance of Mind and Heart

David O. McKay, the first prophet we’ll look at, shows the level of mental labyrinth that had to break down before a policy reversal on the priesthood band could even be contemplated. Greg Prince, in an interview on the Mormon Stories podcast in 2005, relates President McKay’s chronological involvement with the ban:

“David O McKay was called to be an apostle in 1906. He recorded that the first time he became aware that a policy even existed, was on a trip around the world which was in 1921.So he’d been an apostle for 15 years, and didn’t even know that there was a policy. If he didn’t know, you can imagine what the level of knowledge was in the general church membership.”

From just this snippet of the interview, we learn that issues of race were not really issues for the church at this time. If an apostle could be unaware of the priesthood ban for 15 years working full-time in the Lord’s service, then this certainly wasn’t a subject of soul-searching or fervent prayer for the leaders of the church or, as Prince intimates, the general church membership. That’s not to say that individuals didn’t struggle with this knowledge, but it would seem that very few people even knew about the policy in the first place, let alone disagreed with it. Sadly, this would dovetail precisely with the larger attitudes of American organizations at the time. Racial stereotypes that demoted the humanity of men and women of darker skin color were simply the norm. They were completely Other to communities that were either legally or de facto segregated. There wasn’t anything to discuss. It was just the facts of life.

That is, until, like so many ideas in the world, we are confronted by that idea’s embodiment in living, breathing, talking, and thinking individuals. Prince continues, “When he was going around the world in 1921 on the request of President Grant, he encountered a couple in Hawaii. I believe the wife was Hawaiian, and the husband was African-American. That’s when he first became aware of the policy. He wrote President Grant, asking if it might be changed, and was told by Grant by return letter that no, there was nothing he could do about it. So, he basically accepted the status quo, and just lived with it until he became church president.”

Here we have Elder McKay confronted with the personal sadness that results from the priesthood ban. He sees a man who wants to serve his wife and congregation, wants to be sealed with her in the temple, wants to enjoy the blessings from having the priesthood in his home. I think Elder McKay felt that. He felt the first twinge of doubt, and this doubt prompted his letter to President Grant. Unfortunately, President Grant was inclined, like almost all others, to see the priesthood ban tradition as having been instituted by God (do you see any parallels with Nephi’s interpretation of imperfect scripture??).

Elder McKay's actions also underscore a moment of dissonance between his mind and his heart. His heart told him that something was wrong about this church policy. His head told him that if the Church had a policy in the first place, there must be a good reason. So he did the right thing. He inquired about the possibility of change and, as we'll see, began a lifelong task of wrestling to some degree with the background of the priesthood ban.

However, this encounter with a couple in Hawai'i was not a strong enough moment of dissonance to create a lasting effect just yet. Elder McKay’s worldwide trip was a whirlwind affair, so no doubt he received his reply well after he had left the presence of that Hawaiian couple. As an impossibly busy apostle, Elder McKay no doubt had other preoccupations that eroded that personal feeling of wrongness he had felt in Hawaii. By the time he received the letter, the power of the original dissonance had no doubt faded.

It took 33 more years, 3 years after becoming president of the church, for McKay to be confronted by this issue again. This time, he witnessed first hand the practice of the church in South Africa that required men who desired ordination to the priesthood to demonstrate their whiteness in absolute genealogical terms. The local leadership was paralyzed by the burden of proof required in this whiteness test. Effective immediately, President McKay curtailed the practice.

In that moment, President McKay experienced a unified dissonance. Not only did the racial boundary seem arbitrary in his heart, but his mind quickly recognized that the idea behind the priesthood ban had generated administrative consequences that crippled the kingdom of God. With the confidence of a prophet in his prime, President McKay ended the practice. At this point, we see the issue of race begin to trouble the prophet on a more consistent basis.

By the end of his life, President McKay had arrived at the conclusion that the priesthood ban was a policy, not a doctrine, as he confided to Sterling McMurrin in a personal conversation.

What then, we might ask, would have prevented President McKay, who did not believe the priesthood ban was revelatory, who told those closest to him that he had sought an answer on how to move forward for years, from progressively breaking this policy of spiritual racial segregation?

The answer, I believe, resides in the less progressive side of President McKay's attitudes about race. Like so many of his generation, he held entrenched ideas about what "Negroes" were capable of. While the priesthood ban might not be doctrine, and while general discrimination felt decidedly un-Christlike, President McKay believed in the superiority of whiteness. Morally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. The documentary history left behind in President McKay's papers makes it clear that he, like so many others, believed that black brothers and sisters were not capable of the same things white brothers and sisters were.

This continued prejudice would affirm that despite his other marvelous qualities, President McKay did not quite believe that all were alike to the Lord, black and white, bond and free. (see 2 Nephi 26:33). Full equality between members of different races was not a concept that President McKay allowed himself to break through his personal, subjective labyrinth to grasp.

So why wouldn't God jackhammer the light and truth into President McKay's mind and heart? If the church policy denied so many the blessings of the gospel and caused so much pain, as it did, then why wouldn't God take matters into his own capable hands?

As we'll explore more completely in a later chapter, God works with imperfect material while, incredibly, allowing that imperfect material use of agency. I have no doubt that he was sending spiritual promptings to dwell in the hearts of all church leaders and members, not only President McKay. Those whose personal experiences led them to be more receptive to this idea of racial equality seized upon those promptings. A vast majority of others who did not share those life experiences and predisposition toward supporting racial equality did not.

I won't rehearse the litany of retrospectively (and contemporaneously) offensive ideas preached by church leaders (including many apostles and the two prophets who succeeded President McKay) about race, but it's clear that President McKay, even had he entertained the spiritual message to lift the priesthood ban, would not have presided over a church that could embrace their black brothers and sisters as equals.

Rather than push his anointed to half-heartedly inch forward toward equality, rather than lift the priesthood ban only to allow theological explanations of racial inferiority to stand and calcify, I believe God was preparing another man, Spencer W. Kimball, to forcefully lift the ban with the momentum required to blast the cobwebs of exegetical racialism out of the church forever (even if some strands of that nonsense clung to dark corners of otherwise enlightened minds [and on the pages of cherished reference books] for decades afterwards).

Next post we'll look closely at President Kimball's preparation to break out of the attitudes about race that debilitated his generation and how, even after the announcement of Official Declaration 2, excellent church leaders still moved dangerously close to muting the message of the declaration by projecting its light through personal prisms of understanding.

Interlude #1: The Pressures of Weekly Writing and Building on Imperfection

It's probably quite clear by now that I'm struggling with the next installment of my narrative. In this next installment, I grapple with an explanation at the limits of speculation. I've checked myself over and over again, composing and recomposing the next portions of this project in my mind and on the page.

When walking the tightrope between speculative hope and capital-T Truth, there are many spots to question motives, assumptions, and beliefs.

I've also be processing the many reactions to the Supreme Court's decision to allow same sex marriages throughout the nation. It's a decision I'm very happy for. I'll be the first to admit that I am no disciple of the Constitution, and that strict constructionism baffles me. Semantic arguments about constitutionality that reference 225-year-old phrases have little sway over me, and beyond the system of checks and balances and the Bill of Rights, I look at the document as a brilliant historical artifact that should be studied but not worshiped. This is all simply a long-winded way of saying that I measured the Supreme Court on whether they did the right thing and care very little about whether that right thing was also the "constitutional" thing.

The responses to this decision have been troubling on all sides. The multiple prophecies of doom and gloom, the baffling resurgence of absurd explanations for the very existence of homosexuality ("They've all been molested," said one man very seriously to me at church last week, "that's why they love unnatural sex."), and the gleeful hatefulness exhibited by many on all sides has made me question my ideas and my place in the world.

In the long run, this has derailed my writing for several reasons. Most notably, I've been incredibly self-conscious about not only what I say on this blog, but how I say it. The possibilities for miscommunication are manifold. With the subject material I take on, a lack of clarity in a certain paragraph could damage faith rather than, as is my driving hope for this project, offer a rational and realistic reason for continued hope and faith in the revelatory power of the LDS church and its leaders.

Then I had a conversation with one of my remarkable students yesterday. He shifted my thinking (as my students so often do). He mentioned that it sure would be nice if Mormon scholars and scholars in general (and here I believe he's extrapolating from the few professors he's taken classes from) were less focused reveling in what they don't know and more focused on trying to build something even with the recognition that the ingredients for such a project are imperfect. After reassuring him that there were dozens of scholars doing precisely that (and giving him a long list of reading material), I applied what he said to my own thinking and writing.

I realized that I had been paralyzed by the imperfection of my understanding as I stood over the precipice of this Road to Middoni project. Rather than allow that paralysis to continue, I'd like to take this moment to reassert my humanity and imperfection. I warn you to use your brain and your heart as you read what I write. I encourage you to question me and my reasoning and my conclusions. But the prospect of writing something imperfect no longer frightens me. That imperfection will be a light unto my feet as I continue to try and work out my salvation with fear and trembling. I hope it is of some small help or comfort to you, too.

So, fair warning.

A new post in the Road to Middoni project will appear in the coming days. Thanks for being patient. 

The Road to Middoni: In Your Mind and In Your Heart (Part II)

There is, I think, one scripture that not only helps us understand prophetic mistakes but also gives us a sort of iron rod to hold on to when the going gets rough and we question our ability to receive personal revelation from Heavenly Father. This is not an obscure scripture. You’ve probably read and referenced it hundreds of times in your life.

We find this scripture in Doctrine & Covenants section 8, revelation targeted specifically to Oliver Cowdery and later canonized with the understanding that its lesson was applicable to all. Oliver Cowdery’s quest, after months of assisting the precocious prophet, was a sure knowledge. You’ll remember Oliver’s story: hearing rumors of new scripture, he visited the Smith residence near Palmyra, NY. Following a strong spiritual prompting after speaking most of the night with Hyrum, Joseph’s brother, Oliver struck out to join himself to the work of translation.

I think many of us can relate to this rash heeding of spiritual impulse. It has carried me to many major decisions in my life. A powerful spiritual experience as a 19-year-old led me to switch my plans 180 degrees and hurriedly submit my mission papers. My good bishop even marked my application as a “rush” so I could more quickly receive my call; back in those days, calls took months, and I can only imagine the chuckles that the presumptuous “rush” elicited at church headquarters. It wasn’t until a few months later that, safely immersed in the streets of Torino, Italy, the spiritual buzz evaporated. I looked around at a mostly silent senior companion, a sadistic zone leader, the puzzled looks on the street as I sought to communicate, and the growing blisters on my feet (which, incidentally, changed the shape of my feet…) and wondered what I had done. The following weeks of prayers kneeling on cold European floors basically amounted to me begging the Lord for a similar spark, for the same certain enthusiasm that had precipitated my decision to serve. I wanted to rush headlong into rash spirituality again.

I wonder if Oliver Cowdery had been wrestling with similar requests. Translating the Book of Mormon certainly wasn’t glamorous work, harassed by the neighbors and probably a couple nights going to bed hungry when the stores ran low. After rushing headlong to attach himself to this new prophet, I wonder if Oliver also prayed for the blessing of ardent faith rekindled. In a word, both Oliver and I sought spiritual knowledge, the kind of deeply felt certainty that had sent us off on our prospective missions.

The Lord recognizes that in verse 1: “Oliver Cowdery, verily, verily, I say unto you, that assuredly as the Lord liveth, who is your God and your Redeemer, even so surely shall you receive a knowledge [emphasis mine] of whatsoever things you shall ask in faith, with an honest heart, believing that you shall receive a knowledge concerning the engravings of old records, which are ancient…”

It would appear here that Oliver is searching for a sure knowledge of his daily work’s divinity. He has felt that the plates that will become the Book of Mormon have been divinely guided into this small homestead in the early American republic. But he wants to know. He wants to know so that he can continue the frenetic, exhilarating pace of his work. Oliver, like so many of us, needs motivation to continue working. He won’t continue the struggle unless he knows it’s worth it.

But notice that the Lord does not just hand Oliver knowledge. He hands him a principle. And it is this principle that will be our iron rod for both explaining revelatory mistakes and ensuring revelatory success.

Verse 2: “Yea, behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.”

This is it. The Lord is teaching both Oliver and us a significant truth about revelation. So let’s figure out what exactly the Lord is teaching here. So often, we make the mistake of assuming this scripture describes only the metaphysical receptors through which the Lord will beam his pure knowledge into our souls. There is much more to be learned here, but the idea of mind and heart is still a good starting place.

Contemporary readers will be inclined to equate the terms “mind and heart” with “thinking and feeling” or “brain and gut,” and that’s not a bad place to start either. But these terms have very diverse meanings, especially in the early 19th century, and expanding our knowledge of these terms’ connotations will give us a clearer picture of what, exactly, the Lord is promising us.

Let’s start with mind. Mind certainly does refer to thoughts and thought processes, the kind of mental work we would refer to if we were telling a young student to “use your mind.” In addition, however, there is a powerful strand of meaning related to memory when the term “mind” is used in Joseph and Oliver’s time (and to a certain extent, in ours too). If I say, “That brings something to mind,” I’m referring to the marvelously complex abilities of human memory to accept a new idea or stimulus and connect it to an older thought.

So what does that mean? It means that, in the first part of this verse, the Lord is telling us that the Spirit will make use of our logical (and illogical) processes of thinking, but that it will also interact with our memories. If we add in the heart, and the connotation that word had (and still has) to represent our feelings, inclinations, will, and desires, we see that the still, small voice will not come to us like a flyer precariously pinned to our windshield at the supermarket. Instead, the still, small voice, amplified through our thoughts and our memory and our feelings and our will and our desires runs a incisive and expansive full-blown media campaign. If we are prepared, we will know what message comes from the Lord.

Which leads us to a complication of sorts, a complication we saw in the case of Nephi. What if the mind and the heart have been imperfectly prepared? Nephi’s memories of scripture were imperfect remembrances of imperfect scriptural texts. His memories of God’s sweet promise to him combined with this imperfect scripture allowed him to logically justify troubling violence. And as we mentioned earlier, if Nephi can suffer from this, where does that place us?

The next part of the verse uses significant language that sets the stage for this discussion. The Holy Ghost will interact with these various faculties in two distinct ways: it “shall come upon you” and it “shall dwell in your heart.” Let’s look at each interaction separately before we put them together.

Shall Come Upon You

There are several important concepts enunciated in this phrase. First, the Spirit will “come,” meaning that there will be an outside influence upon the mind and the heart. Second, it will come “upon you,” meaning that it will rest upon the foundation that is “you.” The individual assumptions, beliefs, thought processes, and prejudices form the foundation on which the Spirit can build. This is, in effect, how personal revelation becomes personal. Divine truth is filtered through the lens of individuality and personal circumstance. The Lord uses the Holy Spirit to meet us where we are in our spiritual development.

As we learn and develop intellectually, we have the potential to build a foundational infrastructure that either forms a constantly improving conduit to this revelation or confronts that revelation with an increasingly complex labyrinth of preconceptions. More importantly, our early spiritual experiences can either be incorporated into this foundation of “you,” correcting errors of human judgment and prejudice, or those experiences can be forgotten or short-changed, never becoming a part of the infrastructure of mind and heart.  

Shall Dwell in Your Heart

I like to think that the second interaction, the promise that the Spirit will dwell in our hearts, as being related to the first chronologically. That is, if we allow the Spirit to penetrate the labyrinth of our preconceptions and desires, then the Spirit is able to penetrate to the deepest parts of our heart, to communicate with us in a perfect and ineffable way.

This is the pattern shown in the first verses of 3 Nephi 11, when the survivors of the apocalyptic destruction that corresponded to the Savior’s death are gathered around the temple in Bountiful discussing the recent destruction and the prophecies of the Savior’s return. It was precisely while they were discussing, opening their personal labyrinths to greater light and knowledge, recognizing the limitations of their knowledge and refusing to commit to easy answers or folkloric explanations, it was “while they were thus conversing one with another, they heard a voice as if it came out of heaven; and they cast their eyes round about, for they understood not the voice which they heard; and it was not a harsh voice, neither was it a loud voice; nevertheless, and notwithstanding it being a small voice it did pierce them that did hear to the center, insomuch that there was no part of their frame that it did not cause to quake; yea, it did pierce them to the very soul, and did cause their hearts to burn.” (3 Nephi 11:3)

A small part of divine communication, one advance party of a larger spiritual salvo makes it through the imperfect labyrinth of human understanding. It makes it all the way through to these people’s hearts. And it pierces them. It causes their hearts to burn.

At this point, the people gathered in Bountiful have a choice, the same choice that we all face. Do I allow this feeling, this piercing, this pain of spiritual growth and discomfort of burgeoning understanding, do I allow this to dwell in my heart?

The apostle Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, teaches us what the potential is if we do allow that illuminating and peaceful discomfort to take up residence in our heart and, reaching outward, in our mind.

“I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith [emphasis mine]; that ye being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God.” (Ephesians 3:14-19)

If we make the choice to allow this piercing spiritual knowledge to remain in us, to change our nature, to change our prejudice and misconception, our thought process and very desires, then we have the potential to begin to see a greater breadth, length, depth, and height of divine knowledge, culminating in a perfect knowledge of the love of Christ or, in other words, life eternal (see John 17:3).

This is precisely what the people gathered around the temple in Bountiful do. Each time they give this “voice” a space within their hearts to change what they think and what they know, they turn around and listen again. Each time they do so, they are rewarded with greater knowledge. More of the divine light breaks through. More of that light is incorporated in a restructuring of knowledge and belief, ultimately leading to the appearance of Jesus Christ.

Thus, I think about these two actions as a positive feedback loop. In the event that inspiration, coming upon us, pierces our hearts, we can choose to let it dwell there. If we do, the inspiration within our heart enlarges our understanding and corrects our behavior and belief, which in turn allows greater conductivity of the Spirit through our conceptual labyrinth, resulting in still greater inspiration piercing our hearts. And so on.

Putting it all Together

This is the inspiring promise we receive in Doctrine and Covenants section 8. This is also the challenge we face. For, while the people of Bountiful model the idea of this revolutionary process in a matter of minutes, the actual process of using revelation to perfect our understanding takes lifetimes. At pivotal moments, the Spirit will be still come upon us and have to pierce a personal foundation of imperfect understanding. The difference between us and prophets is not a problem of kind, but of degree. Like us, prophets must deal with their own imperfect understanding of the world and how it works.

The good news that the Lord gives us is that he will tell us using multiple metaphysical channels. Our memory, our thought, our feelings, our desires will all coalesce into a unified message if the Holy Ghost is behind the prompting.

The bad news is that we are horrendously awful at waiting for that coalescence. Far too often, due to the exigencies of daily life and personal pride, we shortcut revelation. We fail to see the blind spots in our reasoning and our worldview. We receive revelation and then squander it by subordinating its inspiration to our agendas and prejudices, our imperfect hopes and our human reasoning. It is in this moment that we dilute not only the Lord’s revelation to us, but also the good that revelation could have led us to do. More or less, this is the source of all prophetic and personal confusion and mistakes.

Nephi felt that killing Laban was wrong. He shrunk from what his reasoning told him was the correct action. This was Nephi’s warning. His heart and his mind were not sending a unified message. When Nephi chose to subvert his revulsion against violence to the logical justification of Laban’s murder, he made a mistake, he misinterpreted in part, what the Lord was prompting him to do. He still achieved the objective of his divine quest, but his journey there created pain and sin at the same time it brought joy and knowledge to his family and posterity.

Next, we will apply this framework to the modern prophets who wrestled with the priesthood ban in the mid-twentieth century.

The Road to Middoni: In Your Mind and In Your Heart (Part I)

Before moving on to those central questions, I’d like to address my emotional response to such an interpretation of Nephi’s actions in 1 Nephi 4. And that emotion is fear. “Wait a second,” I (and you, perhaps) cry at this relentless logical march towards greater spiritual knowledge. “Wait! Before we go down this path that will reveal uncertainty and a stark view of the difficulties involved in receiving and interpreting divine revelation, isn’t there something safe to hold on to? What’s the iron rod here?”

I believe there is a principle of safety, and it’s a principle that helps elucidate an even deeper concern that I sometimes even hesitate to ask. How do you mess up something beautifully pure like divine communication? How do prophets mess up? How do I mess up in the exact same way? And if Nephi can miss or misinterpret part of the message, what can I possibly hope to gain from the moments when God speaks to me?

Both of these lines of questioning have, I think, a powerful answer contained in the scriptures. But before we get to that, let’s pause and contemplate the stakes of revelation.

In the previous chapter, we established something of a extreme--a prophetic leader seeking divine guidance while under massive pressure in a time-sensitive situation. This situation isn’t typical for divine communication, at least from what I can gather from my own experience and the stories put forth in scripture. Rather, the fact that God communicates with his children through what Nephi himself would call a “still, small voice” means that most of the time, communication from the heavens occurs in conditions fine-tuned for spiritual quiet and to ears fine-tuned to spiritual frequencies. Prophets are a group of individuals who have spent a lifetime learning to listen to this still, small voice.

That isn’t to say that the stakes aren’t high. In fact, when revelation from God is sought or received, the stakes are nearly always at their highest.

Take Moses leading the children of Israel as a case in point. Whatever the actual circumstances of crossing the Red Sea (or Sea of Reeds), the divine command to “Go forward!” was surely given amid the din of panicked cries, wailing, animal moaning, waves crashing, and general bustle and hubbub (“Because there were no graves in Egypt, hast thou taken us away to die in the wilderness?”).

Or take Abinadi, finding additional strength and knowledge poured into his soul at the very moment his life was under threat in the court of King Noah (“Away with this fellow, and slay him; for what have we to do with him, for he is mad.”)

But I will proffer here the idea that most revelation does not take place under physically taxing circumstances. Instead, the stakes are spiritually existential. Think of President Kimball wrestling with the tradition of liturgical racism, prejudice and segregation. Think of the spiritual stakes here. This was a razor’s edge, a theological minefield if ever there was one for a church that professes leadership through contemporary divine communication. One misstep, one decision taken for the wrong reasons, would have major ramifications. I think this chapter will make my interpretation of events quite clear, but try to put yourself in the shoes of church leaders in the spring of 1978. There were two logical possibilities in their minds.

1. God had truly decreed the ban against ordaining black men to the priesthood and against sealing black couples and families together in the temple, and despite both interior and exterior pressures to do away with the ban, doing so against God’s command would cut off the church from divine presence. As a result, the church would become a church of men, not a church guided by God.
2. The priesthood ban was wrong, and should be rescinded. At stake here was not only the spiritual well-being and access to blessings of millions of God’s children (and an institutional repentance process that would require the Atonement to make up for decades of missed kindness and salvation), but also the spiritual damnation among the current membership of the church if they were allowed to continue to hold on to racist beliefs that were not in accordance with divine truth.

I’ll grant you that I’ve somewhat oversimplified things (and we’ll see a third path charted by the very humbled Elder Bruce R. McConkie in the months after the church rescinded the ban), but that is how I imagine the spiritual stakes of the matter.

What has always bothered me about this process is not the origin of the priesthood ban. While the church hasn’t officially stated as such, the consensus among faithful members of the church who have thought and studied this deeply seems to be that cultural mores of the time, laced with a little political expediency and not a small amount of fearing men more than God all worked together to influence Brigham Young and other leaders to enact the priesthood ban, first officially articulated in an 1852 speech President Young gave to the Utah territorial legislature. Church leaders questioned the divinity of such a ban at first, but the passing of generations led to its general acceptance by both the general membership and leadership of the church as a hard and fast rule, even ascribing its origin to Joseph Smith. There are multiple excellent studies of this subject, some just recently published, so I encourage you to learn more if this all sounds new to you.

While tragic, I don’t find this hard to believe or destructive to my foundational belief in the church’s teaching and leadership. Just like Nephi, I can respect and listen to men who make mistakes. What is much more bothersome is the seeming reluctance among church leadership in the middle 20th century to question or move more quickly to rescind the ban. From what the scraps of history can tell us, it seems clear that each president of the church, from David O. McKay until Spencer W. Kimball ended the ban, sought with varying degrees of earnestness to receive an answer from the Lord concerning the matter. To put that in perspective, that’s at least 27 years of prophetic prayers (though likely a subject of prayer much earlier for these men as they served as apostles). Why did it take so long to learn the truth? Especially if we believe, as I do, that God’s truth is eternal, that racism has never received divine sanction, and that it was essentially waiting out there, in the ethereal heavens, for an attuned prophetic ear to hear?

Now seems like a good time to talk about that iron rod principle of revelation.

To be continued next week with a discussion of the iron rod principle of revelation and a close reading of prophetic interaction with race.

The Road to Middoni: Misreading 1 Nephi 4 (Part VI)

This section concludes the analysis of Explanation 5.

As Nephi stands over drunken, prostrate Laban, the divine creator communicates with Nephi by means of the Holy Ghost. I will reproduce that exchange here for reference, beginning with Nephi’s discovery of Laban, verses 6-18 of 1 Nephi 4, bolding significant parts of the story which I will discuss further below.

“6. And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing before hand the things which I should do.

7. Nevertheless I went forth, and as I came near unto the house of Laban I beheld a man, and he had fallen to the earth before me, for he was drunken with wine.

8. And when I came to him I found that it was Laban.

9. And I beheld his sword, and I drew it forth from the sheath thereof; and the hilt thereof was of pure gold, and the workmanship thereof was exceedingly fine, and I saw that the blade thereof was of the most precious steel.

10. And it came to pass that I was constrained by the Spirit that I should kill Laban; but I said in my heart: Never at any time have I shed the blood of man. And I shrunk and would that I might not slay him.

11. And the Spirit said unto again: Behold the Lord hath delivered him into they hands. Yea, and I also knew that he had sought to take away mine own life; yea, and he would not hearken unto the commandments of the Lord; and he also had taken away our property.

12. And it came to pass that the spirit said unto me again, Slay him, for the Lord hath delivered him into they hands;

13. Behold the Lord slayeth the wicked to bring forth his righteous purposes. It is better that one man should perish than that a nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief.

14. And now, when I, Nephi, had heard these words, I remembered the words of the Lord which he spake unto me in the wilderness, saying that: Inasmuch as thy seed shall keep my commandments, they shall prosper in the land of promise.

15. Yea, and I also thought that they could not keep the commandments of the Lord according to the law of Moses, save they should have the law.

16. And I also knew that the law was engraven upon the plates of brass.

17. And again, I knew that the Lord had delivered Laban into my hands for this cause--that I might obtain the records according to his commandments.

18. Therefore I did obey the voice of the Spirit, and took Laban by the hair of the head, and I smote off his head with his own sword.” (1 Nephi 4: 6-18)

Suspend, just for a moment, the linear progression of events that Nephi recounts here. Despite his temporal perception and account, let’s find an alternative starting point for this story within Nephi’s account.

Let’s begin with the prior communication Nephi had received from the Lord. Verse 14. Nephi has received a promise from God while he meditated in the quiet of a faraway oasis. With little distraction, Nephi had sought the Lord’s will. And he received it. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say it’s this communication, in addition to Nephi’s filial respect for his father-prophet, that is the key to Nephi’s remarkable persistence in the face of such long odds. Ancient preoccupation with seed aside, Nephi was in this for his future family, a powerful motivator for anyone. And those two important “P” words, prosper and promise, have pushed many a person beyond perceived limits.

So that’s the first tool available to Nephi, heart pounding, fatigued, and frantic in the dark streets of Jerusalem: a memory of past revelation, a remembrance of past promise.

What are his other tools? His understanding of prophetic discourse contained in holy writ and his powers of logical reasoning.

Let’s learn a little about the scriptural references Nephi had to draw upon. At the time Nephi was growing up in Jerusalem, a remarkable flowering of religiosity was in full swing. Scholars call this the Deutoronomic Reform. In 622 B.C. priests in the temple announced that they had found a book containing the words of Moses. This book began a canonization of sorts that lasted for hundreds of years, spanning the Babylonian captivity and eventually weaving together 3-4 earlier strands of prophetic myth, legend, discourse, and law, with additions and a powerful conclusion coming from a new strand--the Deutoronomic, or “D” text.

This D text was significantly responsive to the political pressures of its time. Unlike the other strands which demanded tolerance for neighbors and forebearance in hasty judgment, the D text recounted a proto-nationalistic and exclusive Israel, an attitude that closely matched the political exigency of the time. Caught between powerful empires in Babylonia and Egypt, absorbing refugees from the de- (and then re-) populated northern kingdom of Israel, the priestly class turned to a sort of religious fundamentalism that demanded a newly stringent monotheism as the identity for the kingdom of Judah.

This strand would develop and significantly influence the versions of the stories in Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings that we have today.

This is the strand that would have fueled the teaching in the synagogues and among families. This was the scripture that Nephi had access to as he used texts and holy stories to interpret the options in the situations he confronted in his own life. I won’t make a claim about the inspired nature (or not) of the D text. But it’s clear that the scriptures Nephi had access to were mediated through the larger societal fears and hopes of his period, and that the fears and hopes of this period had led to a fundamentalist understanding of what God would or would not allow his people to do in their quest to survive the harsh political climate of ancient Palestine.

So, when Nephi thinks about applicable scripture to guide him in his actions, he thinks of the D text. Check out the footnotes for one of Nephi’s first scriptural applications in verse 11 (“Behold the Lord hath delivered him into thy hands”) Where do they go? Deuteronomy 3:3, a fundamentalist account of a (highly unlikely) massacre of the people of Bashan, and 1 Samuel 17:46, where God delivers Goliath to David’s sling, both of which are products of the D strand of the Pentateuch.

Now, go back towards the beginning of the extended passage from Nephi. Notice that Nephi notices Laban’s (probably bronze) sword. Then his neurons start firing to find scriptures. He likely remembers the latest stories told by the elders and priests of ancient Israel’s chosenness and the lengths to which they were allowed to push the limits of violence and cruelty in their charge of nation-building.

The Spirit does start to whisper to Nephi’s heart. It communicates that the Lord has led Nephi here. Here is the solution to his problem. Here is the means by which Nephi can accomplish the commandment he’s received of the Lord. Except, the Spirit doesn’t say “Slay him.” That’s what Nephi hears, but the Spirit has made it not to perfect ears or perfect understanding, but a man’s ears and a man’s understanding. The imperfect scriptural texts, aided by the visual stimulus of the sword corrupt the Spirit’s message into “Slay him.”

But Nephi recognizes that this doesn’t feel right. He recoils, and rightly so, from an act that is so ungodly. He searches, in his rapidly firing neurons, for a memory of past light and knowledge. Or revelation with which he can compare this new, ghastly command.

Nephi remembers. He remembers the oasis, the stirring breeze, the inexpressible happines that accompanied the realization that God knew him and spoke to him and had something great in store for him.

It is in that moment of bliss that Nephi makes his human error. Rather than compare the two spiritual experiences, Nephi thinks. Not usually a bad thing to do. But his focus on God’s promise to him allows him to justify the violence that he had found in scriptural precedent.

He thought about how he needed the commandments found on the brass plates to make God’s promise come true.

He brought to mind another, logical fact, that brass plates were a sure bet. He knew they contained the commandments he needed.

And with that thought and that fact, Nephi produced counterfeit truth based on half truth. God really had delivered Laban into Nephi’s hands. But murder was not in the intended equation. Nephi knew something that was not altogether true, and he acted on it.

But before you judge Nephi too harshly, imagine a network featuring a central node. The central node is Nephi, and moving towards him are an overlapping, mashed together stampede of inputs. There is no stable hierarchy for these inputs. Nephi is not a computer with impeccable code driving the information transfer. He is imperfect and he is human. In a matter of seconds, Nephi’s brain is processing:

• The visual stimulus of Laban’s sword.
• The scriptural accounts of violence and nation-building prompted by Laban’s sword and Nephi’s cosmic view of his own posterity.
• The powerful influence of the Holy Ghost, whispering pure truth into his heart and mind.
• The indelible memory of past spiritual experience.
• The logical process that is sorting out Nephi’s options.
• The real environment of Nephi’s surroundings and the resultant stress.
• The fatigue, fear, excitement, and the natural human predisposition to violence.

In a matter of moments, Nephi must process this information and act. His action is not the best of all possible options, but it is the option that Nephi is able to undertake based on the sum of the information he processes. Just like his brothers, who made it to the walls of Jerusalem but failed to make the optimal choice of accompanying their brother all the way on his quest, Nephi’s decision is not optimal, but does get the job done.

Nephi does obtain the brass plates, he does use their contents to guide his family to righteousness, and the plates do play an important role in generations to come. Mathematically speaking, more good is probably accomplished at the relatively small price of one murder. But that does not make the action God’s will. God willed the outcome, and Nephi made that outcome happen. He just got there like a man, not an omniscient deity.

As the dust falls, Nephi, just like anyone after a moment of trauma, must sort through his memory to create a sensible timeline that categorizes neatly his experience. As he works through this process, Nephi identifies the different strands that worked together in this pivotal moment, and he truthfully relates the experience as he lived it. God spoke to him, he recoiled, he recalled the stakes, and made the decision to kill Laban.

If Nephi is an archetypal prophet, then we’re left with a very unhagiographic vision of prophets. Yet, the inescapable fact is that God talks to these imperfect, good men. In fact, he’s chosen them to lead us, guide us, and show us what we must do in this life to walk beside our Heavenly Father again one day. It’s much easier to believe a prophet’s imperfection only extends to inefficient teeth brushing, incorrigibly leaving socks on the floor, and sleeping in once a month. It helps us to not doubt a word the prophet says or a single action he performs. It keeps us safe.

But when we are faced with a contradiction like 1 Nephi 4 and we have the intellectual curiosity and the deep-seated sense of ethical truth-seeking that won’t allow us to forget or push doubts under the rug until the millennium, the burnished image of saintly prophets is no longer enough.

At that moment, we have a choice. We can either throw up our hands in despair that the stories our parents and missionaries told us (and probably believed) about prophetic near-perfection weren’t true or we can rely on our faith and ask the hard questions:

• How does the Lord communicate with imperfect prophets?
• How do imperfect prophets communicate with us?
• How are we supposed to follow communication steeped in human imperfection?
• Why does the Lord choose such a messy way to run his church and teach his children?

The rest of this book will attempt to answer these questions based on the insights I have received over the past decade from my own study and experiences and the study and experiences of the many wise men and women who have taught me precious and important lessons throughout my life.

The next section, which will begin posting next week, will look closely at how the Lord communicates with imperfect prophets (especially when they're not stressed out with life and death split-second decisions).