Several years ago I heard this little audio clip where a local traffic reporter ends her morning traffic report in an unusual way. I ran into it again this morning and it is still funny (I honestly can't stop giggling). Listen by clicking here. If you can't get the audio to work, a transcript follows:
"Thanks Bill...and several issues to pass along...the major roadways beginning to clear out nicely...southbound I-15 looking better from 33rd South all the way out to the 44th South. Heading into Davis County you'll still run into some slowing in the Bountiful area, for the most part people are moving pretty well...and, we're grateful for this wonderful day and we humbly say these things in the name of Thy Son, Jesus Christ, amen."
The woman is obviously very tired and somewhere in the middle of her report slips into that dream-like prayer state that we're all familiar with. You know, the one where it's all vain repetition. But, here are three things that I love about this:
First, that she uses we. She is praying in behalf of all of FM100's listeners. Isn't that comforting? I think all of our traffic reporters should be required to pray for the driving public.
Second, She is grateful for this wonderful day. The day is obviously just started and already it's wonderful, and for that she is truly grateful.
And third, she says these things humbly. I am guessing that if she didn't mean it then, she did within a couple of seconds. When she realized what she had just done. Nothing like doing something hilarious to really help remind you that it's not all about you.
Added bonus NOTE: I just noticed another thing about this. The reporter says that "southbound I-15 [is] looking better from 33rd South all the way out to the 44th South," which sounds good, but if you're familiar with that section of the freeway, you know that she's talking about maybe a quarter of a mile of road here. She's obviously already fallen asleep by this point and is just phoning in the report from that sleepy, happy place.
I love it.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Ten Years? Feels More Like a Decade.
Buffy and I have been husband and wife for ten years now. That's a decent amount of time to be tied to someone that you weren't originally related to. A few things have changed since June 19, 2001 (our wedding day). A sampling follows:
(1) Buffy's hair is not as curly as it used to be,
(2) there are four children with genetic ties to us,
(3) I have a number of gray hairs on my head, and
(4) there are about twenty pounds of me and an inch or two of forehead that Buffy is not officially married to.
I asked Buffy to marry me on the 28th of February in 2001. We had gone to dinner that night and back to BYU Campus to walk around. We wandered into the Madsen Recital Hall, the space where we rehearsed with our choir, BYU Singers. It's more-or-less where we had met.
There, a friend of mine had pulled out one of the nine-foot grand pianos and placed it in the center of the Madsen stage. She had also, at my request, set up a number of small tables and stools with various items on them. Each of the items held some symbolic meaning. I brought Buffy on to the stage and sat at the piano. I played the song that I had written for her (you can listen to the song by clicking on "She Has A Smile" on the little widgit thingy on the upper right-hand side of this page). After the song, I got down on one knee, presented a ring, and asked her if she'd marry me. She said that she'd be honored. Then we looked at each of the items placed around the stage and talked about what they meant.
Bread. On one of the tables was two loaves of bread, unsliced. This symbolized my promise to provide for her.
A couple of bricks represented our home, together.
A Hoppy Taw, which is a marker one uses to play hopscotch (we had played hopscotch a number of times on dates), symbolized the fun we would have together.
A copy of The Book of Mormon symbolized our commitment to God and our religion.
A children's book, I don't remember the title, symbolized the children we hoped to bring into the world together.
I think there were a couple of other things, like candles and flowers (maybe candy, a live chicken, a loaded gun, a fruit roll up, shoe laces, and mismatched socks--I'm just kidding, I can't help myself. I just love random lists.).
I probably should report on how we're doing on the symbolic things that I promised to provide:
Bread. Check. We're not rich, but we have enough and are comfortable.
Bricks. Check. After moving six times in six years (ouch) often just after the birth of a baby, we have been in our current home for four years, we like it. Although we do plan to make one more move before staying put forever.
Hoppy Taw. Check. We have fun. We also get bored and grumpy and sad and lonely and happy and giddy and stupid and smart and everything else that all committed and happy families do.
Book of Mormon. Check. We are active in our ward and love God and the gospel very much.
Children's book. Check. There are four little people running around that look and act a lot like Buffy and me.
I can honestly say that Buffy's answer of "yes" to my proposal has had a profound effect on my life. In fact, I can't imagine my life without her. I think I'll go ahead and re-up for the next ten years.
(1) Buffy's hair is not as curly as it used to be,
(2) there are four children with genetic ties to us,
(3) I have a number of gray hairs on my head, and
(4) there are about twenty pounds of me and an inch or two of forehead that Buffy is not officially married to.
I asked Buffy to marry me on the 28th of February in 2001. We had gone to dinner that night and back to BYU Campus to walk around. We wandered into the Madsen Recital Hall, the space where we rehearsed with our choir, BYU Singers. It's more-or-less where we had met.
There, a friend of mine had pulled out one of the nine-foot grand pianos and placed it in the center of the Madsen stage. She had also, at my request, set up a number of small tables and stools with various items on them. Each of the items held some symbolic meaning. I brought Buffy on to the stage and sat at the piano. I played the song that I had written for her (you can listen to the song by clicking on "She Has A Smile" on the little widgit thingy on the upper right-hand side of this page). After the song, I got down on one knee, presented a ring, and asked her if she'd marry me. She said that she'd be honored. Then we looked at each of the items placed around the stage and talked about what they meant.
Bread. On one of the tables was two loaves of bread, unsliced. This symbolized my promise to provide for her.
A couple of bricks represented our home, together.
A Hoppy Taw, which is a marker one uses to play hopscotch (we had played hopscotch a number of times on dates), symbolized the fun we would have together.
A copy of The Book of Mormon symbolized our commitment to God and our religion.
A children's book, I don't remember the title, symbolized the children we hoped to bring into the world together.
I think there were a couple of other things, like candles and flowers (maybe candy, a live chicken, a loaded gun, a fruit roll up, shoe laces, and mismatched socks--I'm just kidding, I can't help myself. I just love random lists.).
I probably should report on how we're doing on the symbolic things that I promised to provide:
Bread. Check. We're not rich, but we have enough and are comfortable.
Bricks. Check. After moving six times in six years (ouch) often just after the birth of a baby, we have been in our current home for four years, we like it. Although we do plan to make one more move before staying put forever.
Hoppy Taw. Check. We have fun. We also get bored and grumpy and sad and lonely and happy and giddy and stupid and smart and everything else that all committed and happy families do.
Book of Mormon. Check. We are active in our ward and love God and the gospel very much.
Children's book. Check. There are four little people running around that look and act a lot like Buffy and me.
I can honestly say that Buffy's answer of "yes" to my proposal has had a profound effect on my life. In fact, I can't imagine my life without her. I think I'll go ahead and re-up for the next ten years.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Book of Mormon Stories
Warning: I hardly ever do this, but this ‘blog entry will contain fewer jokes than usual. Feel free to skip it if a ‘blog entry with fewer jokes does not sound like something you’d like to read.
I watched with some curiosity the Tony Awards for 2011. The big spectacle on the “great white way” this year is a musical titled The Book of Mormon. This musical is such a curiosity to me because of my religious affiliation. I am a Mormon—a believing, card-carrying, active Mormon. The musical was written by the creators of South Park, a coarse cartoon on Comedy Central that is known for skewering…well, everything. Religion is one of those things that the show has skewered and Mormonism has not escaped its treatment.
The writers of the musical grew up in Colorado and had many Mormon friends. Their fascination with the religion appears genuine. From some of the interviews that I’ve seen, they claim that they wanted to write a good, old-fashioned musical with Rodgers- and Hammerstein-like characters. And Mormons are as Rodgers- and Hammerstein-ian as anyone, so they went with it. The writers claim that Mormons will like the show.
The biggest source of curiosity is that the musical borrows the title of The Book of Mormon, which to us, is scripture. Also, reviewers refer to the musical as the most vulgar musical to ever play on Broadway (one reviewer mentioned that the show uses the “F word” sixty-some-odd times, but never from the mouth of a Mormon character). Vulgarity, and cursing is something that Mormons avoid and are genuinely offended by. To many Mormons, the juxtaposition of vulgar and sacred are enough to offend sensibilities and most of us will probably avoid the musical. But, the very existence of this musical is a great big curiosity. So, how should I, as a Mormon, feel about this show?
I have listened to the entire soundtrack. Much of it is filthy. I don’t recommend that anyone who wants to avoid vulgarity listen to it. The story, from what I could gather, follows a set of Kessler- and Greene-like elders as they serve in Uganda. The Kessler character, Elder Price, struggles with his faith, while the Green character finds courage, saves lives, stops the spread of disease, and puts an end to barbaric ritual by making up doctrine.
There is a song, the song that was performed at the Tony awards, that is quite catchy and has a lot of heart. Here it is.
I must admit, I like this song. It’s no more than a gentle ribbing of Mormon beliefs. And, if I’m being honest, there is nothing in this song that I have not personally heard a Mormon say. Did you notice the paraphrase of 1st Nephi 3:7?
But,
The song seems to want to illustrate how no thinking person could possibly believe what Mormons believe. So, Mormons must believe without thinking, and that there is no substance in the faith.
That assumption is just not true. Mormons follow a pattern where they think things out in their minds, then ask God. We believe that the intelligence we gain in this life goes with us when we die and that we should learn as much as possible about as many things as possible. Therefore, Mormons are generally smart and educated and have reconciled their beliefs with their understanding of the world. And, in fact, a Mormon finds stronger faith because of his or her thinking mind, not in spite of it.
I have made a list of the things from the song that got the biggest audience reaction and will address each one below. Obviously, these are my own thoughts and ideas and should not be considered official statements of the LDS church.
Ancient Jews built ships and sailed to America
Yes, Mormons believe this. The Book of Mormon indicates that at least three groups (Jaredites, Nephites, Malichites) sailed to the Americas via ship. Nephi’s oldest brothers would have laughed at that line in the musical too. Is the idea of ancient Jews building ships and sailing to America beyond the realm of possibility? No. But, no doubt, it would be very difficult. The Book of Mormon account of the Nephite and Jaredite treks indicate that the ship builders were very dependent on revelation from God to make it happen. It was miraculous that they were able to do it. In order to believe it, you have to believe in God’s power. But, here is the real question: Can a person or persons build a ship and sail that ship great distances across the ocean. The real, thinking man’s, answer: Yes. It happens all of the time.
Getting my own planet
Mormons say this quite often. It’s usually used as the opening line to a joke. As in, “when I get my own planet there won’t be any speeding tickets.” It is an extremely presumptuous notion, based on the doctrine that if persons, through the atonement of Christ, are found worthy of exaltation that they will become like their Father in Heaven, perfected beings.
If, the logic continues, perfected beings are like Father in Heaven, they would do what He does, which is bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of mankind. This would involve creating spirit children and sending them off to an Earth-like place where they (the new generation of spirit children), too, could have a shot at exaltation.
The important part of this doctrine is that we believe that through Jesus’ sacrifice we can become like God and that there is work to do after this life. Jesus taught us to refer to God as Father, and we tend to grow up to be like our fathers.
Thomas Monson speaks directly to God
Mormons believe that everyone has access to God. Everyone can pray and receive inspiration, guidance, and revelation for themselves and things that they have stewardship over, e.g. family, church assignments, work, and schooling. Thomas Monson’s stewardship as the President of the Church is for the entire church, so the guidance and revelation he receives from God is similar to the revelation Moses received for the exodusing Israelites.
Joseph Smith, the founder of the LDS church, was more inclined to talk about the angelic and Godly visitations and visions that he received. Subsequent presidents of the church have kept these types of experiences closer to the vest. We do, however, believe that they happen even today.
This pattern was established in ancient times, “surely the Lord God will do nothing save he reveal his secrets to his servants the prophets.” The New Testament warns about false prophets who deceive but does not say that there are no true prophets. If God lives, and if he ever used a prophet to convey his will, then why wouldn’t he do that today?
In 1978 God changed his mind about black people
For almost 140 years, the church excluded Africans and descendants of Africans (regardless of skin color, interestingly) from being ordained to the priesthood. Blacks were never excluded from membership in the church but were kept from participation in the priesthood, which kept them from receiving ordinances in the temple, holding leadership callings, etc.
Where this policy came from is a bit of a mystery. After all, Joseph Smith had ordained a hand full of black men to the priesthood in the 1830s and 1840s. Early church leaders encouraged free blacks to come join the church and baptized slaves with their owner’s permission, but they also speculated that blacks carried the “mark of Cain.” The Book of Mormon refers to dark skin as the mark of a curse, while also stating that black and white, bond and free are alike unto God.
In 1978, then president, Spencer W. Kimball went to the temple and prayed long and hard about this issue. He left the temple with a revelation that all worthy males could be ordained to the priesthood. Some say, it was political expedience. Maybe, but really the time for political expedience was about a decade and a half before 1978.
I am aware of two theories on why Blacks were excluded from the priesthood. These ideas are based on an interview given by Richard Bushman, a famous Mormon historian. First, some wonder if Brigham Young adopted some of the traditions of his time (excluding blacks) and those traditions morphed into doctrine. Even then, the restrictions on the priesthood were not meant to be permanent. In 1852 Brigham Young made this statement, "the time will come when [black men] will have the privilege of all [white men] have the privilege of and more."
Second, others wonder if there was a doctrinal issue that would keep specific races from participation in the priesthood, based on lineage. The linage theory only makes sense within context. Among the ancient Israelites, the men of the tribe of Levi were the priests, the rest of the tribes were not. Mormons see themselves as latter-day Israelites. Specifically from the tribe of Ephraim, which, Mormons believe, was given the charge of the priesthood for the last days. Perhaps it was concluded that African peoples were not of the tribe of Ephraim.
There are other linage-related theories.
Unfortunately, because of this long-standing doctrine, the church is often portrayed as a racist organization. I don’t believe this to be the case. I believe that the pre-1978 the blacks-and-the-priesthood issue was very painful to most of the membership (and leadership) of the church. The fact is that the LDS church is a conservative religion—it seeks divine guidance for every change to policy and doctrine and errs on the side of caution. They had to wait for the revelation.
God lives on a Planet called Kolob
Nope. He lives near a star called Kolob. Get it right people! There actually is not a consensus on what exactly Kolob is, a planet, a star, or even a metaphor for Jesus. I think we get a little caught up with the name of the planet or star or whatever it is. What’s important here is not that Mormons believe God lives on some distant planet, but that God’s physical person is somewhere. He is a tangible person, a perfected being with a body of flesh and bone. He exists somewhere. Who cares where? Kolob is just a word describing where God lives. Heaven also works.
Jesus has his own planet as well
Yes. It’s called Earth. He created it, lived and died for the sins of mankind here, and will come again to rule and reign. This is a major tenet of Christianity.
The Garden of Eden was in Jackson County, Missouri
Yes. This is in our canonized scripture. Joseph Smith believed Jackson County, Missouri, to be the eventual location of a Zion-like city that would play a role in the Second Coming of Jesus. This is a very important location to Mormons and to the writers of the movie Deep Impact.
There is no compelling evidence that the Garden of Eden was in Jackson County, Missouri, but there also is no compelling evidence that the Garden of Eden was anywhere. So, assuming the Garden of Eden actually existed, it could have been located anywhere on the face of the Earth. Last time I checked, the face of the Earth includes Jackson County, Missouri. Believing in Jackson County as the location of the Garden of Eden is really no different than believing in the Garden of Eden itself (it just adds one little detail, a specific location)
Evidence indicates that the earliest humans lived in the Fertile Crescent. Mormons can accept this idea without much problem, because we accept truth in all of its forms. We just assume that there is more to the story that we don’t understand at this point. We’ll patiently wait for those answers to come.
Ok. That covers the things listed in the song. While I’m at it I probably ought to address another issue that makes Mormons appear peculiar.
Polygamy
Yep. True. We did it. For around 50 or 60 years in the early days of the church, Mormons were polygamists. Not all Mormons, but enough.
I should mention that what I heard of The Book of Mormon (the musical) doesn’t offer much in way of polygamy-related jokes, which is appreciated. The church hasn’t allowed the practice of polygamy for a hundred-and-twenty years or so.
The Book of Mormon (the book) actually condemns the practice of polygamy. According to the Book of Mormon prophet Jacob it should never be practiced except when God wishes to raise up posterity.
Let’s, for a moment, take emotional, spiritual, and social reasoning out of the argument and think about it strategically,
(1) imagine you want to build a solid foundation of people to build up a new religion and ensure that it will live beyond its first generations. Which method is more effective, raising up children or proselytizing converts? The answer is easy, raising up children (although the early Latter-day Saints did both).
(2) imagine you are starting a brand new city from scratch, and there are a number of widowed and otherwise single women who need caring for. Oh, and this is happening sometime between 1840 and 1890. What is more effective, building a welfare system or finding them a husband to provide for them?
From a strategic stance, polygamy is a smart move, even if it only lasts for 50 or 60 years.
But, if we add back in the emotional, spiritual, and social issues we can see why the practice became such a focus both inside and outside the church. To Mormons and non-Mormon Americans who came mostly from protestant backgrounds it was a difficult and odd thing to accept. I believe that this difficulty of acceptance is what raised the doctrine to its preeminent status for the Saints of the Utah territory. The doctrine was elevated to the point where exaltation was believed to be dependent upon the acceptance of polygamy. If the practice had been seen as a temporary measure, the courage to continue it against one’s upbringing and in the face of harsh criticism may have been lacking.
By 1890, the Utah territory was fairly established, railroads had connected the nation, towns were built, and church units were organized. The thriving of the church was no longer dependent on polygamy. Coincidentally, the church’s assets were just about to be seized by the federal government. The stakes were high enough, the conditions were more favorable, and President Wilford Woodruff received revelation that stopped the practice.
Conclusion
I have rambled on for far too long. One thing I know, having these kinds of questions to wrestle with is an important part of conversing with God. Believing without thinking and reconciling cognitive dissonance is very un-Mormon.
As far as the Book of Mormon musical is concerned, I believe God can do his work regardless of the source of the material. The musical will give many a chance to mock us for our empty-headedness (that’s fine and actually kind of fun in some ways), but it will also lead attendees to ask questions, and I wouldn’t be too surprised if some of them joined us.
Maybe I’m too optimistic, but I am a Mormon, and a Mormon just believes.
I watched with some curiosity the Tony Awards for 2011. The big spectacle on the “great white way” this year is a musical titled The Book of Mormon. This musical is such a curiosity to me because of my religious affiliation. I am a Mormon—a believing, card-carrying, active Mormon. The musical was written by the creators of South Park, a coarse cartoon on Comedy Central that is known for skewering…well, everything. Religion is one of those things that the show has skewered and Mormonism has not escaped its treatment.
The writers of the musical grew up in Colorado and had many Mormon friends. Their fascination with the religion appears genuine. From some of the interviews that I’ve seen, they claim that they wanted to write a good, old-fashioned musical with Rodgers- and Hammerstein-like characters. And Mormons are as Rodgers- and Hammerstein-ian as anyone, so they went with it. The writers claim that Mormons will like the show.
The biggest source of curiosity is that the musical borrows the title of The Book of Mormon, which to us, is scripture. Also, reviewers refer to the musical as the most vulgar musical to ever play on Broadway (one reviewer mentioned that the show uses the “F word” sixty-some-odd times, but never from the mouth of a Mormon character). Vulgarity, and cursing is something that Mormons avoid and are genuinely offended by. To many Mormons, the juxtaposition of vulgar and sacred are enough to offend sensibilities and most of us will probably avoid the musical. But, the very existence of this musical is a great big curiosity. So, how should I, as a Mormon, feel about this show?
I have listened to the entire soundtrack. Much of it is filthy. I don’t recommend that anyone who wants to avoid vulgarity listen to it. The story, from what I could gather, follows a set of Kessler- and Greene-like elders as they serve in Uganda. The Kessler character, Elder Price, struggles with his faith, while the Green character finds courage, saves lives, stops the spread of disease, and puts an end to barbaric ritual by making up doctrine.
There is a song, the song that was performed at the Tony awards, that is quite catchy and has a lot of heart. Here it is.
I must admit, I like this song. It’s no more than a gentle ribbing of Mormon beliefs. And, if I’m being honest, there is nothing in this song that I have not personally heard a Mormon say. Did you notice the paraphrase of 1st Nephi 3:7?
But,
The song seems to want to illustrate how no thinking person could possibly believe what Mormons believe. So, Mormons must believe without thinking, and that there is no substance in the faith.
That assumption is just not true. Mormons follow a pattern where they think things out in their minds, then ask God. We believe that the intelligence we gain in this life goes with us when we die and that we should learn as much as possible about as many things as possible. Therefore, Mormons are generally smart and educated and have reconciled their beliefs with their understanding of the world. And, in fact, a Mormon finds stronger faith because of his or her thinking mind, not in spite of it.
I have made a list of the things from the song that got the biggest audience reaction and will address each one below. Obviously, these are my own thoughts and ideas and should not be considered official statements of the LDS church.
Ancient Jews built ships and sailed to America
Yes, Mormons believe this. The Book of Mormon indicates that at least three groups (Jaredites, Nephites, Malichites) sailed to the Americas via ship. Nephi’s oldest brothers would have laughed at that line in the musical too. Is the idea of ancient Jews building ships and sailing to America beyond the realm of possibility? No. But, no doubt, it would be very difficult. The Book of Mormon account of the Nephite and Jaredite treks indicate that the ship builders were very dependent on revelation from God to make it happen. It was miraculous that they were able to do it. In order to believe it, you have to believe in God’s power. But, here is the real question: Can a person or persons build a ship and sail that ship great distances across the ocean. The real, thinking man’s, answer: Yes. It happens all of the time.
Getting my own planet
Mormons say this quite often. It’s usually used as the opening line to a joke. As in, “when I get my own planet there won’t be any speeding tickets.” It is an extremely presumptuous notion, based on the doctrine that if persons, through the atonement of Christ, are found worthy of exaltation that they will become like their Father in Heaven, perfected beings.
If, the logic continues, perfected beings are like Father in Heaven, they would do what He does, which is bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of mankind. This would involve creating spirit children and sending them off to an Earth-like place where they (the new generation of spirit children), too, could have a shot at exaltation.
The important part of this doctrine is that we believe that through Jesus’ sacrifice we can become like God and that there is work to do after this life. Jesus taught us to refer to God as Father, and we tend to grow up to be like our fathers.
Thomas Monson speaks directly to God
Mormons believe that everyone has access to God. Everyone can pray and receive inspiration, guidance, and revelation for themselves and things that they have stewardship over, e.g. family, church assignments, work, and schooling. Thomas Monson’s stewardship as the President of the Church is for the entire church, so the guidance and revelation he receives from God is similar to the revelation Moses received for the exodusing Israelites.
Joseph Smith, the founder of the LDS church, was more inclined to talk about the angelic and Godly visitations and visions that he received. Subsequent presidents of the church have kept these types of experiences closer to the vest. We do, however, believe that they happen even today.
This pattern was established in ancient times, “surely the Lord God will do nothing save he reveal his secrets to his servants the prophets.” The New Testament warns about false prophets who deceive but does not say that there are no true prophets. If God lives, and if he ever used a prophet to convey his will, then why wouldn’t he do that today?
In 1978 God changed his mind about black people
For almost 140 years, the church excluded Africans and descendants of Africans (regardless of skin color, interestingly) from being ordained to the priesthood. Blacks were never excluded from membership in the church but were kept from participation in the priesthood, which kept them from receiving ordinances in the temple, holding leadership callings, etc.
Where this policy came from is a bit of a mystery. After all, Joseph Smith had ordained a hand full of black men to the priesthood in the 1830s and 1840s. Early church leaders encouraged free blacks to come join the church and baptized slaves with their owner’s permission, but they also speculated that blacks carried the “mark of Cain.” The Book of Mormon refers to dark skin as the mark of a curse, while also stating that black and white, bond and free are alike unto God.
In 1978, then president, Spencer W. Kimball went to the temple and prayed long and hard about this issue. He left the temple with a revelation that all worthy males could be ordained to the priesthood. Some say, it was political expedience. Maybe, but really the time for political expedience was about a decade and a half before 1978.
I am aware of two theories on why Blacks were excluded from the priesthood. These ideas are based on an interview given by Richard Bushman, a famous Mormon historian. First, some wonder if Brigham Young adopted some of the traditions of his time (excluding blacks) and those traditions morphed into doctrine. Even then, the restrictions on the priesthood were not meant to be permanent. In 1852 Brigham Young made this statement, "the time will come when [black men] will have the privilege of all [white men] have the privilege of and more."
Second, others wonder if there was a doctrinal issue that would keep specific races from participation in the priesthood, based on lineage. The linage theory only makes sense within context. Among the ancient Israelites, the men of the tribe of Levi were the priests, the rest of the tribes were not. Mormons see themselves as latter-day Israelites. Specifically from the tribe of Ephraim, which, Mormons believe, was given the charge of the priesthood for the last days. Perhaps it was concluded that African peoples were not of the tribe of Ephraim.
There are other linage-related theories.
Unfortunately, because of this long-standing doctrine, the church is often portrayed as a racist organization. I don’t believe this to be the case. I believe that the pre-1978 the blacks-and-the-priesthood issue was very painful to most of the membership (and leadership) of the church. The fact is that the LDS church is a conservative religion—it seeks divine guidance for every change to policy and doctrine and errs on the side of caution. They had to wait for the revelation.
God lives on a Planet called Kolob
Nope. He lives near a star called Kolob. Get it right people! There actually is not a consensus on what exactly Kolob is, a planet, a star, or even a metaphor for Jesus. I think we get a little caught up with the name of the planet or star or whatever it is. What’s important here is not that Mormons believe God lives on some distant planet, but that God’s physical person is somewhere. He is a tangible person, a perfected being with a body of flesh and bone. He exists somewhere. Who cares where? Kolob is just a word describing where God lives. Heaven also works.
Jesus has his own planet as well
Yes. It’s called Earth. He created it, lived and died for the sins of mankind here, and will come again to rule and reign. This is a major tenet of Christianity.
The Garden of Eden was in Jackson County, Missouri
Yes. This is in our canonized scripture. Joseph Smith believed Jackson County, Missouri, to be the eventual location of a Zion-like city that would play a role in the Second Coming of Jesus. This is a very important location to Mormons and to the writers of the movie Deep Impact.
There is no compelling evidence that the Garden of Eden was in Jackson County, Missouri, but there also is no compelling evidence that the Garden of Eden was anywhere. So, assuming the Garden of Eden actually existed, it could have been located anywhere on the face of the Earth. Last time I checked, the face of the Earth includes Jackson County, Missouri. Believing in Jackson County as the location of the Garden of Eden is really no different than believing in the Garden of Eden itself (it just adds one little detail, a specific location)
Evidence indicates that the earliest humans lived in the Fertile Crescent. Mormons can accept this idea without much problem, because we accept truth in all of its forms. We just assume that there is more to the story that we don’t understand at this point. We’ll patiently wait for those answers to come.
Ok. That covers the things listed in the song. While I’m at it I probably ought to address another issue that makes Mormons appear peculiar.
Polygamy
Yep. True. We did it. For around 50 or 60 years in the early days of the church, Mormons were polygamists. Not all Mormons, but enough.
I should mention that what I heard of The Book of Mormon (the musical) doesn’t offer much in way of polygamy-related jokes, which is appreciated. The church hasn’t allowed the practice of polygamy for a hundred-and-twenty years or so.
The Book of Mormon (the book) actually condemns the practice of polygamy. According to the Book of Mormon prophet Jacob it should never be practiced except when God wishes to raise up posterity.
Let’s, for a moment, take emotional, spiritual, and social reasoning out of the argument and think about it strategically,
(1) imagine you want to build a solid foundation of people to build up a new religion and ensure that it will live beyond its first generations. Which method is more effective, raising up children or proselytizing converts? The answer is easy, raising up children (although the early Latter-day Saints did both).
(2) imagine you are starting a brand new city from scratch, and there are a number of widowed and otherwise single women who need caring for. Oh, and this is happening sometime between 1840 and 1890. What is more effective, building a welfare system or finding them a husband to provide for them?
From a strategic stance, polygamy is a smart move, even if it only lasts for 50 or 60 years.
But, if we add back in the emotional, spiritual, and social issues we can see why the practice became such a focus both inside and outside the church. To Mormons and non-Mormon Americans who came mostly from protestant backgrounds it was a difficult and odd thing to accept. I believe that this difficulty of acceptance is what raised the doctrine to its preeminent status for the Saints of the Utah territory. The doctrine was elevated to the point where exaltation was believed to be dependent upon the acceptance of polygamy. If the practice had been seen as a temporary measure, the courage to continue it against one’s upbringing and in the face of harsh criticism may have been lacking.
By 1890, the Utah territory was fairly established, railroads had connected the nation, towns were built, and church units were organized. The thriving of the church was no longer dependent on polygamy. Coincidentally, the church’s assets were just about to be seized by the federal government. The stakes were high enough, the conditions were more favorable, and President Wilford Woodruff received revelation that stopped the practice.
Conclusion
I have rambled on for far too long. One thing I know, having these kinds of questions to wrestle with is an important part of conversing with God. Believing without thinking and reconciling cognitive dissonance is very un-Mormon.
As far as the Book of Mormon musical is concerned, I believe God can do his work regardless of the source of the material. The musical will give many a chance to mock us for our empty-headedness (that’s fine and actually kind of fun in some ways), but it will also lead attendees to ask questions, and I wouldn’t be too surprised if some of them joined us.
Maybe I’m too optimistic, but I am a Mormon, and a Mormon just believes.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Epic Father's Day Fail
Yesterday was Father's Day, and as is tradition among Mormons on Father's Day, our ward's primary children were set to sing a lovely song.
The song in question: Love is Spoken Here.
You know the one; it starts, "I see my mother kneeling..." and ends with dueling verses, I mean, counterpoint harmony. They, the primary children, had been practicing the piece for about a month and a half and were ready to present it as a gift to their dads and daddies. The second-to-last speaker finished her remarks. It was time. The children filed to the front of the chapel; the younger kids went up on the stand while the older kids stayed down in front of the stand. Boys were on the left, and girls were on the right--they were going to split by gender to sing the harmonies of the last verse.
I stood in the house-left aisle about half-way down, in the midst of the pews. I am, after-all, the recently called primary chorister. The accompanist caught my eye; I scanned the children, and they were set. So I gave a nod and the introduction started. My plan was to lip sync the words and conduct without making myself too much of a distraction. The focus should be on the children, after all, and not on me--never ever on me. The introduction finished--time to sing. I waved my arm into the downbeat, and with as much pronunciation as I could muster I began to mouth the words.
Immediately, I knew something was wrong. There were no human-produced sounds, just the piano continuing on into the first verse of the song. Not a single noise from a single child. No one had accepted my invitation to start singing.
Not wanting to stop and start again, I started to sing, perhaps if they could hear me, they'd follow along.
Now I was singing a solo in front of the congregation. And, the children were watching me do it, offering no help. I put my hand to my ear in the universal sign for "sing louder" as if to beg the children to begin.
They did not care to begin at that time.
The first line ended (I know this, because I was singing it, still as a solo), giving me just enough time to try one last ditch effort to get the kids to sing, "Everyone!" I said to the children, waving my hands in a sweeping gesture hoping against hope that they would have mercy on me and sing even just a little bit.
There was no mercy.
So, I did what I had to do.
I turned to the congregation and brought them in to sing the second half of the first verse. The adults complied.
At the end of the first verse, I thought the ice had been broken enough to give the kids a shot at the second verse, sans congregation. I cut off the congregation and brought in the children for the second verse.
Yes, there was noise. Child-produced, vocal noise. "Okay, we're going to make it," I thought. Yes, the sound was kind of a sing-songy mumble, but it could be defined as singing, and best of all, it was audible.
Then, about one line into the second verse one of the sweet six-year-old girls stepped up to the pulpit microphone and began to sing directly into it.
Her singing, amplified by the microphone, was loud. I tried to get the attention of the bishopric to turn off the microphone. They couldn't see me (something I wish could have applied to everyone in the congregation). I had to do something, so I--conducting all the while--walked up the aisle to the mic and pulled the mic out of her face. I then gave the sweetheart an "A Okay" sign and a wink. I back peddled to my original spot in the aisle just in time to realize that the second verse was over and that the last verse, the duet, was upon us.
Nothing that I had witnessed up to that point had led me to believe that there was any chance in outer darkness that the children would be able to do this. So, I turned to the congregation and said, "will you sing the first verse? Otherwise, this is not going to go very well." The congregation sang the first verse while the kids sang the second verse with no other incident.
Whew.
I sat down, knowing that I had just created the subject of future nightmares.
Ike, Mimi, and Kitty, all three participants in the ill-fated chorus, came back to their seats mumbling something about the word "horrible." I couldn't help but laugh. A lot. It was a happy father's day.
The song in question: Love is Spoken Here.
You know the one; it starts, "I see my mother kneeling..." and ends with dueling verses, I mean, counterpoint harmony. They, the primary children, had been practicing the piece for about a month and a half and were ready to present it as a gift to their dads and daddies. The second-to-last speaker finished her remarks. It was time. The children filed to the front of the chapel; the younger kids went up on the stand while the older kids stayed down in front of the stand. Boys were on the left, and girls were on the right--they were going to split by gender to sing the harmonies of the last verse.
I stood in the house-left aisle about half-way down, in the midst of the pews. I am, after-all, the recently called primary chorister. The accompanist caught my eye; I scanned the children, and they were set. So I gave a nod and the introduction started. My plan was to lip sync the words and conduct without making myself too much of a distraction. The focus should be on the children, after all, and not on me--never ever on me. The introduction finished--time to sing. I waved my arm into the downbeat, and with as much pronunciation as I could muster I began to mouth the words.
Immediately, I knew something was wrong. There were no human-produced sounds, just the piano continuing on into the first verse of the song. Not a single noise from a single child. No one had accepted my invitation to start singing.
Not wanting to stop and start again, I started to sing, perhaps if they could hear me, they'd follow along.
Now I was singing a solo in front of the congregation. And, the children were watching me do it, offering no help. I put my hand to my ear in the universal sign for "sing louder" as if to beg the children to begin.
They did not care to begin at that time.
The first line ended (I know this, because I was singing it, still as a solo), giving me just enough time to try one last ditch effort to get the kids to sing, "Everyone!" I said to the children, waving my hands in a sweeping gesture hoping against hope that they would have mercy on me and sing even just a little bit.
There was no mercy.
So, I did what I had to do.
I turned to the congregation and brought them in to sing the second half of the first verse. The adults complied.
At the end of the first verse, I thought the ice had been broken enough to give the kids a shot at the second verse, sans congregation. I cut off the congregation and brought in the children for the second verse.
Yes, there was noise. Child-produced, vocal noise. "Okay, we're going to make it," I thought. Yes, the sound was kind of a sing-songy mumble, but it could be defined as singing, and best of all, it was audible.
Then, about one line into the second verse one of the sweet six-year-old girls stepped up to the pulpit microphone and began to sing directly into it.
Her singing, amplified by the microphone, was loud. I tried to get the attention of the bishopric to turn off the microphone. They couldn't see me (something I wish could have applied to everyone in the congregation). I had to do something, so I--conducting all the while--walked up the aisle to the mic and pulled the mic out of her face. I then gave the sweetheart an "A Okay" sign and a wink. I back peddled to my original spot in the aisle just in time to realize that the second verse was over and that the last verse, the duet, was upon us.
Nothing that I had witnessed up to that point had led me to believe that there was any chance in outer darkness that the children would be able to do this. So, I turned to the congregation and said, "will you sing the first verse? Otherwise, this is not going to go very well." The congregation sang the first verse while the kids sang the second verse with no other incident.
Whew.
I sat down, knowing that I had just created the subject of future nightmares.
Ike, Mimi, and Kitty, all three participants in the ill-fated chorus, came back to their seats mumbling something about the word "horrible." I couldn't help but laugh. A lot. It was a happy father's day.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Kitty's Potty Adventure
You know how when you have children under the age of accountability they like to ruin things for you? And, since they are not accountable, it's your fault?
Church is one of the things that our children--as wonderful as they are--try to ruin on a regular basis. Church has become a weekly epic battle of shhing and under-the-breath threats met with screaming and the willful breaking of crayons. These battles usually start in the pews and move out to the hallways, classrooms, cars, and--on the rare occasion--through the streets of the adjacent neighborhoods.
They are similar to the old Warner Brothers cartoons where the sheep and the coyote walk to work as friends in the morning, clock in, fight all day, and then clock out and walk home as friends. When church is over we all pile into the van and drive home, and it's like everyone was "just doing [our] job[s]."
So, anyway, I was at church yesterday, enduring the battle. When Kitty (names have been changed), our three-year-old, declared her need to go potty. Lady Buffington (titles have been invented), my wife, was attending another congregation with our other daughter, so I was wrangling the other three on my own. The pee-pee-dance-like movement of her body indicated to the trained eye that she was serious about needing to "go." Also, Cubby (the baby), was becoming distracting to the families around us. So, Cubby, Kitty, and I excused ourselves and headed for the restrooms (Ike, almost 8, was reading an issue of The Friend magazine and didn't follow us).
When we got to the restrooms, Kitty insisted on going into the ladies' room, a place I cannot go, at least according to the cease and desist letters I keep getting (okay, that was a bad joke, forget I wrote it). Of course, she's old enough to "go" by herself, she does it all the time at home. So, I consented. Besides, no one chooses to go into a men's room, but in the most dire of circumstances.
I stood near the door and waited. A vent, located on the wall above the ladies' room entrance, allows waiting parties to hear louder-than-usual conversations that take place in the ladies' room. Through that vent I could hear Kitty singing in recitative (recitative, for those of you not familiar with opera or oratorio, is a style of singing that is close to the rhythm of natural speech, used in opera for dialogue and narration), "I'm in the bathroom, by myself. My daddy can't come in. He is outside the door, while I go potty, all by myself" and so on. That was the recitative, the aria followed.
The aria was the opening line, slightly modified, of the opening song of the first Shrek movie.
"SomeBODy once told me the WORLD was macaroni!" repeated over and over and over again. She sang it loudly, flooding the song out into the hallway. She sang it as other women came and went from the restroom. She sang it as if she were proud to sing such a fine song in the restroom of a church.
As she came out, her hands still dripping from the post-potty scrubbing, I found myself just a little more in love with her than I was before she went in. We didn't venture back to the chapel. I spent the rest of the meeting in the halls watching and playing with my little ones. Ike eventually joined us.
Kitty had won the battle. I (with the help of Lady Buffington) will have to regroup and try it again next week.
Church is one of the things that our children--as wonderful as they are--try to ruin on a regular basis. Church has become a weekly epic battle of shhing and under-the-breath threats met with screaming and the willful breaking of crayons. These battles usually start in the pews and move out to the hallways, classrooms, cars, and--on the rare occasion--through the streets of the adjacent neighborhoods.
They are similar to the old Warner Brothers cartoons where the sheep and the coyote walk to work as friends in the morning, clock in, fight all day, and then clock out and walk home as friends. When church is over we all pile into the van and drive home, and it's like everyone was "just doing [our] job[s]."
So, anyway, I was at church yesterday, enduring the battle. When Kitty (names have been changed), our three-year-old, declared her need to go potty. Lady Buffington (titles have been invented), my wife, was attending another congregation with our other daughter, so I was wrangling the other three on my own. The pee-pee-dance-like movement of her body indicated to the trained eye that she was serious about needing to "go." Also, Cubby (the baby), was becoming distracting to the families around us. So, Cubby, Kitty, and I excused ourselves and headed for the restrooms (Ike, almost 8, was reading an issue of The Friend magazine and didn't follow us).
When we got to the restrooms, Kitty insisted on going into the ladies' room, a place I cannot go, at least according to the cease and desist letters I keep getting (okay, that was a bad joke, forget I wrote it). Of course, she's old enough to "go" by herself, she does it all the time at home. So, I consented. Besides, no one chooses to go into a men's room, but in the most dire of circumstances.
I stood near the door and waited. A vent, located on the wall above the ladies' room entrance, allows waiting parties to hear louder-than-usual conversations that take place in the ladies' room. Through that vent I could hear Kitty singing in recitative (recitative, for those of you not familiar with opera or oratorio, is a style of singing that is close to the rhythm of natural speech, used in opera for dialogue and narration), "I'm in the bathroom, by myself. My daddy can't come in. He is outside the door, while I go potty, all by myself" and so on. That was the recitative, the aria followed.
The aria was the opening line, slightly modified, of the opening song of the first Shrek movie.
"SomeBODy once told me the WORLD was macaroni!" repeated over and over and over again. She sang it loudly, flooding the song out into the hallway. She sang it as other women came and went from the restroom. She sang it as if she were proud to sing such a fine song in the restroom of a church.
As she came out, her hands still dripping from the post-potty scrubbing, I found myself just a little more in love with her than I was before she went in. We didn't venture back to the chapel. I spent the rest of the meeting in the halls watching and playing with my little ones. Ike eventually joined us.
Kitty had won the battle. I (with the help of Lady Buffington) will have to regroup and try it again next week.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Feething a Farthing from a Father
I haven't talked about my six-year-old, Mimi, for awhile. She is the type of kid that is always in trouble (e.g., Li'l Orphan Annie, Dennis the Menace, Dakota Fanning). A while ago she and I were having a heart-to-heart and she said, recognizing her propensity for naughtiness, "What if I grow up to be a robber?"
Hoping to help her understand that she sets her own destiny, I replied, "Do you want to be a robber?"
Her retort was cute and funny and alarming, "I'm not sure, maybe."
Then, last night, Buffy found a note written in Mimi's signature scrawl, what lay men call handwriting. It read, "...I may be a feeth, but I don't care..."
First question: what is a feeth?
Second question: is a feeth a theef?
Third question: is a theef a thief?
Fourth question: should I hide my wallet?
Answers: Probably.
Hopefully, a feeth is actually a dancer or a bowler or a dental assistant or a cake decorator or a professional wrestler or a farmer or a city slicker or a stock broker. Wait! Not that last one. Whatever the case we will keep our eyes on Mimi and our valuables in a safe place.
Rest of the story...
Mimi's real ambition is to be a professional violinist, so she'll probably have to be a feeth as well (bada bing!).
As for the other children, Ike wants to be a mechanical engineer. Kitty wants to be a mommy. and Cubby or Corky or whatever I call him on this 'blog wants to be a real boy.
Hoping to help her understand that she sets her own destiny, I replied, "Do you want to be a robber?"
Her retort was cute and funny and alarming, "I'm not sure, maybe."
Then, last night, Buffy found a note written in Mimi's signature scrawl, what lay men call handwriting. It read, "...I may be a feeth, but I don't care..."
First question: what is a feeth?
Second question: is a feeth a theef?
Third question: is a theef a thief?
Fourth question: should I hide my wallet?
Answers: Probably.
Hopefully, a feeth is actually a dancer or a bowler or a dental assistant or a cake decorator or a professional wrestler or a farmer or a city slicker or a stock broker. Wait! Not that last one. Whatever the case we will keep our eyes on Mimi and our valuables in a safe place.
Rest of the story...
Mimi's real ambition is to be a professional violinist, so she'll probably have to be a feeth as well (bada bing!).
As for the other children, Ike wants to be a mechanical engineer. Kitty wants to be a mommy. and Cubby or Corky or whatever I call him on this 'blog wants to be a real boy.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Voice Male Audition
Well, I've gone and done another embarrassing thing. Here I am in my audition video for a contemporary acapella group. The group is called Voice Male. They have been around for 16 years. They started as a college group at USU, but have kind of morphed into a sort of Mormon main stream acapella group.
Recently, one of their baritones, Phil, passed away. So, they are auditioning folks to "'Phil' in" for him. I know the group because a good friend of mine is married to one of the tenors. Her husband, we'll call him Chip (names have changed) called me last summer to come and sing with them, to see if I could fill in for their Christmas concerts. I came, sang, had a great time, but they decided not to use anyone at the time. Now they are looking for a permanent replacement.
For the above video, I wanted to show my sense of humor, acknowledge the group's loss, pay tribute to their friend, and sing well (but not overly well, as to control expectations--I'd be trying to pick up 16 years of institutional memory). I think it gets a little boring in the middle, but hopefully I've done those things.
I am told that there are over 30 applicants, so I'm not getting my hopes up too high. I am also perfectly fulfilled, musically, with the things I'm currently doing. And this would probably bring an end to my ability to perform in Savior of the World, which is hard to think about. But, it would be a ton of fun to work with these guys.
Here is one of the other auditioners:
It's actually my female friend, the one who is married to the tenor. She manipulated her voice and sent it in as a joke. She's crazy funny.
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