CALL ME A MORMON--NOT A LATTER-DAY SAINT--PLEASE!

Yesterday (August 16, 2018), the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints announced a new policy: the media and all members are to stop using the word “Mormon” when referring to the church and its members. In response, some in the media whose memories stretch far enough back, sighed, “Oh, here we go again!”

In 2000, leading up to the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints issued the exact same directive: stop calling us “the Mormon Church” and stop calling our members, “Mormons.” Of course, no one listened.

Around that same time, the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints changed its name to Community of Christ. The denomination wanted the end, once and for all, any connection in the public’s mind to the church in Utah, Mormons or Mormonism.

Of course, the nickname “Mormon” was coined within the first year or so of the religious movement’s birth in upstate New York in 1830. This was several years before the term “Latter Day Saint” was coined, or the name of the original “Church of Christ” was changed to “Church of the Latter-Day Saints.” The name “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints” was adopted later in the 1830s, while the body that called itself “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” (note the hyphenated words in the name) was not legally organized until several years after the death of Joseph Smith. So, before there were “Latter Day-saints” or even “Latter Day Saints,” there were “Mormons.”

Doesn’t anyone want to be called a “Mormon” anymore?

I certainly can understand why many do not. Since around 1850, the word “Mormon” has been conflated with the Utah-based institution that called itself “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” As far as public relations are concerned, that organization got off on the wrong foot when, in 1852, it announced to the world that it not only practiced polygamy, but considered it divinely-mandated and superior to monogamy. (Even today, that institution is burdened by its continual recognition of “eternal” polygamous marriages as well as the inclusion in its scripture of a section commanding the practice.) The murder of over 100 innocent men, women and children by the institution's top local leaders in southern Utah on September 11, 1857 (the Mountain Meadows Massacre) was—and remains--a public relations nightmare. (One historian has correctly observed that following the massacre, and for the remainder of the nineteenth century, to be called a Mormon was akin to being called a Muslim terrorist today.)

In modern times, the corporation that now owns the trademark “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” has made one public relations blunder after another. These include: its embrace of a 120-year-old racist theology and policy targeted against all people of African ancestry (neither of which were rescinded until 1978); its “successes” in defeating the Equal Rights Amendment in the late 1970s and overturning same-sex marriage in California in 2008, and—most recently—its policy against blessing or baptizing the children of same-sex couples. (Jesus Christ said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” The Utah-based corporation claiming to be his sole representative on earth says, “Not so fast, Kids.”)

Seeing how the corporation that owns the trademark “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” has—by its actions, policies and theology—caused the word “Mormon” to become synonymous with homophobia, racism, sexism, pharisaical religious attitudes and Right-wing politics, it is perfectly understandable that it now wishes to distance itself from the name.

Please, please, please do!

You—the corporation that owns the trademark “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints"—and all of you who are associated with that corporation do not deserve the name “Mormon.” Give it up—I beg of you! Dear members, if ever you have heeded the council of your so-called “Lord’s Anointed,” I beseech you, do so now, and immediately cease and desist from calling yourselves Mormons once and for all!

I, for one, will continue to identify as Mormon—though, in 2007, I dissolved my relationship with the Utah-based corporation that owns the trademark “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

In the 1830s and early 1840s, the label “Mormon” had very different connotations that it had after the murder of Joseph Smith. Were Mormons seen a weird, odd, unorthodox, troublesome to established Protestant norms? Yes—without a doubt. But in a newborn Republic that encoded freedom of and from religion in its constitution, those Protestant norms needed to be challenged and, if people so chose, completely rejected. This was a period when the majority of Americans saw the Mormons as victims of violence, not perpetrators of violence (as they would in the 1850s, when the Utah institution hijacked the label and began preaching Blood Atonement.) Before that time, Mormons were laughed at for having emerged from the folk religion of the American frontier—with all of its weirdness, superstition, quaintness and…well…fun. (Re-read “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” if you want to better understand the American frontier folk religion that actually birthed Mormonism.)

My dear Latter-day Saints— (we can all agree that is what you are to be called now, right?)—please begin immediately to correct people when they mistakenly refer to you as “Mormon.” If you must, feign being insulted when they in ignorance apply the name to you. If I could have but one gift this coming Christmas Season, it would be that by December 25,no one would associate the word “Mormon” with the corporation that owns the trademark “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

In short, my dear Latter-day Saints, I am sick and tired of having my family, friends and associates assume that I am one of you, or that I have any association with the Utah-based corporation that owns the aforementioned trademark.

Let me share some reasons why I am proud to be a Mormon, but have no desire to be mistaken for a Latter-day Saint:

Early Mormons eagerly explored all the newest trends and fades in religious thought, spirituality, science and pseudo-science, mysticism, etc.—and when they found an idea that resonated with their convictions, they incorporated it into their evolving theology. On the other hand, Latter-day Saints view any new idea with suspicion, withholding all opinions until the leaders of the corporation that owns the trademark “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” have issued their opinion, at which time those Saints form an echo chamber. I find echoes irksome, and so, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

The early Mormons distrusted American Christianity. Joseph Smith confessed he couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to hoot and holler at revivals and camp meetings—even when he wanted to. Eliza R. Snow declared that when she attended Christian services, she couldn’t humiliate herself by declaring that she was a naturally-corrupt sinner worthy of nothing but damnation by a just and righteous God. In contrast, Latter-day Saints worry constantly that others don’t see them as Christians, while fear of God’s judgement seem to be constantly on their minds. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Though Mormons at first thought of Jesus as being God incarnate (the orthodox Christian view), they quickly dropped the doctrine of the Trinity, questioned and offered wild speculations about a literal Virgin birth, stopped focusing on the Atonement, began putting more emphasis on how Christ was similar to the rest of humanity and envisioning how humanity could become equally divine not only with Christ but with God. Latter-day Saints have retreated from all of these ideas, and embrace a neo-orthodox theology that in many of its fundamentals differs little from mainline Protestantism. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saints.

Early Mormons accepted “The Book of Mormon” as scripture while knowing little to nothing about its origins. When, at a Mormon conference in the early 1830s, Hyrum Smith asked Joseph Smith to share the details of the book’s origin with those assembled, Joseph refused, saying the details were unimportant. Latter-day Saints, however, think the details are very important, and belief in later gold plate narratives is a central tenant of their religion. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons knew nothing about any “First Vision” in 1820—because that story hadn’t yet been written, and wouldn’t be widely known until the early twentieth century. If you were to talk about Joseph Smith’s “Vision” to an early Mormon, they’d assume you were referring to “The Vision” of the three degrees of glory in D&C 76. Latter-day Saints believe their faith began in 1820 when Joseph had a vision of the Father and the Son; the historicity of this event is a central tenant of their faith. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons rejected salvation by grace because in the new theological paradigm they constructed, the focus was on Eternal Progression by one’s efforts. Latter-day Saints think of “salvation” in much the same way as do Catholics and Protestants. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Mormons rejected the idea of Hell and embraced universal salvation—within everyone inheriting some degree of glory. Latter-day Saints believe in three degrees of glory, but most still believe in the existence of Hell as traditionally imagined by Catholics and Protestants. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons believed that humans and Gods shared a common nature. Latter-day Saints concentrate on how humans are different from God —and any talk of Gods (plural) rattles them.(They insist, after all, that they are Christians—and Christians are monotheists.) So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons believed that one’s spirit was eternal, uncreated and “co-equal with God.” Latter-day Saints, since their adoption of polygamy in 1852, have taught that one’s spirit is sexually begotten by Heavenly Parents—thus making heterosexual marriage central to their now-convoluted neo-orthodox theology. So, call me a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons held that marriages were to always be performed openly as public ceremonies in accordance with local law. Since 1852, Latter-day Saints have performed their marriages hidden from the view of not only the general public, but also from the eyes of those church and family members who their leaders label “unworthy.” So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons had but three offices in their initial church organization: elder, priest and teacher. Latter-day Saints have—well, just look at a flow chart of their organization and try to make sense of it. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons governed their churches by Common Consent, with decisions being made democratically from the bottom up. The Twelve Apostles had no church-wide authority but merely oversaw the Mormon missionary program. Church authority was local, with the local Stake High Council being the highest authority. The Latter-day Saints, since the time of Brigham Young, have embraced a pyramid structure—with all authority flowing down from a Church President, through the Twelve Apostles, then General Authorities, and so on to the local level. When Latter-day Saints talk of Common Consent, they mean the right to affirm whatever the leaders at the top have already decided. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons didn’t excommunicate people for a difference of opinion. Joseph Smith thought doing so was too similar to the practices the Methodist societies of his youth: one accepted Methodists beliefs, or one was booted from membership. Latter-day Saints are so famous for booting out members for differences of opinions, that they could market a line of footwear for the occasion. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons sympathized with the poor and the outcast; Latter-day Saints admire the wealthy and affluent. So, I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.

Early Mormons embraced life here and now as good. They sought to build Zion and the Kingdom of God here on earth. They believed that this earth would eventually be clothed in Celestial Glory. Latter-day Saints focus on leaving this world, which they tend to view with much the same negativity as do Evangelical Christians; they aspire ti “enter the Celestial Kingdom” or “return to the presence of our Heavenly Father” after they die. So, because I really like life here on earth and thoroughly enjoy the daily routine of waking up, eating and drinking, working, engaging with friends and family, having sex, reading, writing, learning—not to mention my fondness for more mundane things such as breathing and aging—and because I believe God likes these things, too—I am a Mormon—not a Latter-day Saint.


Early Mormons took the Word of Wisdom as advise, not as a commandment: most continued to drink coffee, tea, beer and alcohol. (Joseph Smith even installed a bar in his Nauvoo home and hired Porter Rockwell to be his bar tender—until tea-totaling Emma told him that either the bar went or she would leave with the children.) Latter-day Saints consider the Word of Wisdom to be a commandment (despite the fact that their own scripture declares explicitly that it is not), and obedience to it is required for full participation in their church. So, I am a Mormon (a coffee drinker with a fondness for margaritas)—not a Latter-day Saint.

The list of why I am a Mormon--not a Latter-day Saint—could go on, but I think I have made my point. If you don’t think I have, then I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I’ll sign off with but one small request: please, please, please call me a Mormon--not a Latter-day Saint!

SEPTEMBER 21, 1823 ....AND NOW

September 21st could be thought of as the birthday of Mormonism.

For nearly two centuries stories have been circulated about events that millions of people around the world believe took place on Sunday night, September 21, 1823 in a small log home near Palmyra, New York.
The first stories were told among members of Joseph and Lucy Mack Smith’s family. Within two years, some details of those stories leaked out and were circulated among certain neighbors of the Smiths. Over the next few years, rumor, speculation, superstition and religious enthusiasm led to the telling of conflicting stories—some greeted as evidence of Divine intervention in human history, some seen as omens of darker supernatural powers at work, and others cited as proof of a great fraud being perpetrated on the gullible.

In the confusing swirl of conflicting stories about the events of September 21, 1823, a new religious tradition was born that quickly grew beyond the expectations of most people. As that movement spread beyond upstate New York into Ohio, Missouri and Illinois, its leaders tried to bring clarity to the chaotic stew from which their faith sprang. In short, they tried to create an official origin story for their religion.

They made several attempts. In each of these origin stories, details were added that conflicted with those found in earlier versions but which supported recent innovations in the faith’s theology and organizational structure. Each of these later retellings became more miraculous and majestic—presenting a cosmic struggle between the forces of Divine goodness and Satanic evil. When the movement splintered into competing denominations in the late1840’s, some relegated these later stories to history books while others canonized them as scripture.

Reform Mormons tend to think that greater spiritual value is found not in trying to prove or disprove the historicity of these later “official” histories, but in returning to the earlier versions of the story—the ones closer in time to 1823—and looking for the elements of those stories that might speak to the spiritual concerns of people living today.

One of the earliest detailed accounts of Sunday night, September 21, 1823, was written by Mormonism’s co-founder, Oliver Cowdery in a letter dated September 7, 1834--and published in the October 1834 issue of “Latter Day Saints’ Messenger and Advocate.”

Oliver wrote that on that the night of September 21, 1823, teenage Joseph Smith was not even sure if God existed. The teenager called “upon the Lord in secret” for an answer to the question: “If a Supreme Being did exist, to have an assurance that he was accepted of him.”

To understand why 17-year-old Joseph Smith doubted the existence of God, one needn’t look any farther than his parents. His father, Joseph Smith Senior, was a Universalist who rejected any theology that relegated any portion of humanity to a burning Hell for all eternity. Joseph Senior has no use for organized religion, and expressed his spirituality in terms of folklore and folk magic. In contrast, young Joseph’s mother Lucy Mack Smith embraced a more Calvinistic faith: she was deeply afraid that she, her husband and children might face eternal damnation—that they needed to secure their Christian salvation. The religious differences between Joseph Smith’s parents were profound, and they undermined any sense of unity and stability in the life of the family. It does not take much effort to imagine that discussions of religious differences in the Smith household might have easily escalated into powerful arguments that could have caused the teenage Joseph to be critical of religion generally and of traditional notions of God specifically.

According to Oliver, the teenage Joseph Smith “was unusually wrought up on the subject that had so long agitated his mind—his heart was drawn out in fervent prayer, and his soul was so lost to everything of a temporal nature, that earth had lost its charms, and all he desired was to be prepared in heart to commune with some kind of messenger who could communicate to him the desired information of his acceptance with God.”

Oliver Cowdery wrote that near midnight, after Joseph’s brothers had fallen asleep, “while continuing to prayer for a manifestation, on a sudden a light like that of day, only of a purer and far more glorious appearance and brightness, burst into the room.” Joseph later told Oliver that it seemed to him “as though the house was filled with consuming and unquenchable fire.” At first the appearance of such luminous splendor “occasioned a shock or sensation, visible to the extremities of the body,” but that was soon followed by a “calmness and serenity of mind, and an overwhelming rapture of joy that surpassed understanding.”

In a moment, a personage stood before Joseph floating in mid-air. Although the room had previously been filled with light, Oliver wrote, there seemed to be an “additional glory surrounding or accompanying the personage, which shone with an increased degree of brilliancy.” Though the countenance of the messenger was “as lightening,” it was of such a “pleasant, innocent and glorious appearance,” that all fear was banished from the boy’s heart and “nothing but calmness pervaded Joseph’s soul.”

The turning point in Cowdery’s story comes when Joseph, laying in his bed and wondering if God even exists, desires to know if the God—whose existence he questions—finds him acceptable.

How many people find themselves in that situation? Raised in a particular faith, they find themselves unsure of everything they were taught to believe—even the existence of God. And yet, at the same time, though unsure if God does exist, they still want to know that they are loved and accepted if God does exist.

According to Oliver’s account, while Joseph was in the midst of this conflicted state of mind, light began filling the room, bringing with it a calm and a glory that banished all fears. This sets into motion miraculous events which three years later leads to a new book of scripture and the opening of the scriptural cannon.

According to various stories told about the coming forth of that new scripture, for the next four years (1824, 1825, 1826 and 1827) September 21st became a day for Joseph Smith to re-evaluate the previous year of his life, to meditate on lessons learned, to repent and prepare for the future he felt God had in store for him. In this way, it was similar to the High Holy Days in Judaism—which coincidentally takes place every year during this same week in September. The process of honestly accessing one’s life and spiritual state, of accepting doubts, repenting of sins is essential in order to prepare for the revelation of further Light in our lives.

And so, on the night of September 21st, Reform Mormons try to take a deeper look at where they are relative to their spiritual and ethical progression. They contemplate the events of the previous year and what might be in the year to come. If they have doubts about God—or any other belief or idea related to their faith—they try to confront these doubts openly, honestly and with integrity. Just as one needn’t stay married to one’s current beliefs, one needn’t be divorced from one’s doubts. Beliefs and doubts can both fuel one’s Eternal Progression. The goal is not to get to somewhere else by virtue of believing “the right things,” but to become the type of human being whose personifies the Divine. Accepting doubts, being able to live with ambiguity, repenting of those things that we honestly, within ourselves, believe are wrong (as opposed to those things that traditions, institutions and others insist are wrong)—being able to do all of these things may not only bring a profound sense of peace, they can also open our eyes to the Light that will lead us into the future.

REMEMBERING 9/11 ... 1857

Can a community born of faith in the loftiest of ideals, descend into hatred, intolerance, murder and terror? Can a people who embraced a prophetic tradition—who gathered together because they were keenly aware of the injustice, hard heartedness and self-righteousness in the world become so zealous that they move beyond merely embodying the attitudes that they once decried, to embracing barbarism?

The answer is yes, and no people should be more aware of that truth than those belonging to the Mormon religious tradition. Mormonism is, after all, a tradition that originally sprang from the embrace of “The Book of Mormon.” Before the earliest believers had any fully formed explanation of the book’s origins, they had in their hands the book itself. That book told a story that spoke to their experiences and reflected their understanding of human nature and the world in which they lived.

“The Book of Mormon” told the story of two ancient peoples—both descended from a prophet who saw the corruption of the society in which he lived, and fled with his wife and children to a distant land. There, separated from his kinsmen, the prophet hoped that his children and their descendants would live as a free, just, godly and virtuous people. But from the beginning of the story, all of his children engaged in violence, jealously and division.

The prophet’s descendants divided themselves into two distinct civilizations—neither of which were purely just or virtuous, and both of which embraced violence and war when they felt threatened. In each of these two cultures there arose divinely-called prophets and leaders—and in each, there arose charlatans, demagogues, war-mongers and tyrants. For six hundred years, these two cultures not only warred with one another, but were each internally divided ethnically, religiously and politically. Each cultural was blinded by the belief that its enmity with the other was either rationally or divinely justified. Brought to the brink of destruction not only by violence but by catastrophic natural disasters at the time of Jesus’s crucifixion, they were visited by the resurrected Christ who taught them the principles embodied in the Biblical Sermon on the Mount. After six centuries of ethnic division, demagogy, social injustice and war, the two civilizations come together as one people and lived in peace for over a century. The reason for—and the key to—this lasting peace were the pure and simple principles taught by Jesus: love your enemy, pray for those who despitefully use you, turn the other cheek, bless those who curse you, go the extra mile, bear one another's burdens, avoid being sanctimonious.

After a century, prosperity, pride, self-righteousness and contentiousness took root within the people. Ancient grievances were revived, and people divided themselves along ethnic lines. Both descended into barbarism, with one civilization becoming even more sadistic than the other. That civilization—which, through most the story, had the stronger prophetic tradition—was eventually annihilated by the other.

“The Book of Mormon” was cautionary tale for the people who first read it—first and second-generation Americans who were still insecure with the personal liberties their newly formed Republic guaranteed them. These first readers were cautious regarding potential abuses of power by civic as well as ecclesiastical authorities and institutions. They embraced the “pure and simple Gospel of Christ”—which could best be summarized as putting love and charity above all else.

It is one of the supreme ironies in American history, that the largest community of Mormons would, in the 1840s, as a result of persecution and political intrigue, leave the United States, settle in the Rocky Mountains and desert southwest, and there turn inward on itself—instituting an internal “reformation” in which the choice was either unquestioning obedience to ecclesiastical authorities, or punishment—including death (so-called “Blood Atonement”) for blasphemy and apostacy. The theocratic government established in Utah Territory bought its Mormon population in direct conflict with the principles of the United States Constitution. It was soon assumed that military conflict between Utah territorial militias and Federal troops was inevitable.


During this period—in the late summer of 1857—a wagon train made up of Americans primarily from Arkansas and Missouri was making its way to California, through southern Utah. Twenty-five years earlier, Missouri had been the central gathering place for Mormons, but religious persecutions there had ended with a massacre of Mormons at a settlement called Haun’s Mil, and an extermination notice signed by the Governor of Missouri—the only such order ever issued by a U.S. governor against U.S. citizens. The memories of those persecutions and the resentments had only festered among the Mormons seeking to pioneer the harsh desert southwest. The California-bound wagon train wandered into what could now be described as a “perfect storm” for tragedy.

Led by the Mormon Priesthood High Council of Cedar City, Utah, the local militia attacked the wagon train in a spot called Mountain Meadows. After a conflict lasting several days, on September 11, 1857, the wagon train surrendered to the militia after being assured that they would be escorted to safety. Having given up their weapons, the men, women and children of the wagon train formed a long line and, escorted by Mormon militia men, they began to walk out of Mountain Meadows. Suddenly given the signal, each Mormon militia man turned on the man, woman or child nearest him. Within minutes, over 100 men, women and children—aged 8 and older—lay massacred in Mountain Meadows. Their mutilated bodies were left unburied for weeks.

This event—the Mountain Meadows Massacre—was the worst case of domestic terrorism in U.S. history until the Oklahoma City Bombing in 1995. What is so tragic and ironic, is that the perpetrators of the massacre were themselves the victims of earlier religious persecutions and massacre.

Perhaps the greatest irony is that the worst act of domestic terrorism in U.S. history would be perpetrated on September 11, 2001—144 years to the day since the Mountain Meadows Massacre. As with the terrorism of 9/11/1857, the terrorism of 9/11/2001 was perpetrated by religious zealots who clung to memories of and resentments regarding earlier persecutions that their religious communities had suffered.
Reform Mormons embrace 9/11 as a Day of Remembrance. The two terrorist acts that took place on this day—in 2001 and in 1857—are taken as warnings of what can happen when a community clings to grievances of past wrongs, and assumes that they have either a rational or a divinely-mandated license to avenge those wrongs.

Reform Mormons turn to the story told by “The Book of Mormon” for guidance. They realize that no community is immune to bitterness, to fantasies of vengeance for wrongs suffered, and to the intoxicating but deadly illusion that violence against one’s enemies is divinely sanctioned.

On 9/11, Reform Mormons seek to remember that despite wrongs and injustices suffered, they have committed themselves to emulating the character of God as revealed in the character of Jesus. That character is embodied in the principles found in Biblical Sermon on the Mount and in “The Book of Mormon’s” Sermon at the Nephite Temple:

“Behold, it is written, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth;
but I say unto you, that ye shall not resist evil.
Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other…
Love your enemies, bless them that curse you,
so good to them that hate you,
and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you;
that ye may be the children of your Father who is in heaven;
for He makes his sun to rise on the evil and on the good…
Old things are done away with, and all things have become new.
Therefore, I would that ye should be perfect even as I, or your Father who is in heaven is perfect."

(See III Nephi 12: 38—48 [LDS Edition] / III Nephi 6: 84—92 [COC Authorized Version]

THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS: THE LIGHT IN THE MANGER

The land into which Jesus was born burned with Messianic expectations. Prayers for a long-promised national deliverer arose constantly from homes, synagogues and the great Temple in Jerusalem. A nation which had for over six centuries been divided, humiliated and dominated by foreign powers awaited God’s anointed deliverer who would restore national honor, integrity, piety and power. The coming of this national redeemer would be a joyful event for the people—a momentous event that would be witnessed by all the nations of the earth. At least that was the populist belief of the time given the common interpretation of scriptural passages such as this:

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!”
Listen! Your watchmen lift up their voices; together they shout for joy.
When the LORD returns to Zion, they will see it with their own eyes.
Burst into songs of joy together, you ruins of Jerusalem,
for the LORD has comforted his people,
he has redeemed Jerusalem.
The LORD will lay bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations,
and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God."
(Isaiah 52:7-10)

The central reason why most believers in these scriptures rejected Jesus as God’s Messiah—His Anointed—was that his birth, life and death (and even the claims of his resurrection) met none of the expectations that the vast majority of the people had for their long-hoped-for redeemer.

In the decades and centuries following Jesus’s earthly ministry, those who did embrace him as the Messiah passed along stories and created traditions that commemorated his birth as a miraculous, earth-shaking event.

Thus, Christmas is celebrated by erecting Nativity scenes, singing glorious carols, and retelling stories of singing angelic hosts filling the night skies above shepherds in their fields; of Wise Men on camels following a blazing star from Persia to Bethlehem; of ancient Americans falling to their knees as the skies above them remain bright for a day, a night and day in recognition of the Savior’s birth.

There are two things that these stories have in common.

All of these stories involve great lights: the star of the east; a day, a night and a day as if they were one day; bright angelic host filling the night sky.

And all of these stories involve humans looking heavenward for signs of the Messiah’s birth.

Whether these particular stories are historical or legendary is of little importance to our discussion here. If they are indeed historical, they happened to only a handful of people in the Middle East or to an ancient America civilization that had no contact with the rest of the world. The fact remains that the rest of the human family—including those living in the small town where Jesus was born—had no idea that a Messiah had been born.

No one was looking earthward. No one was looking down.

With all of the reading of scripture that took place daily in synagogues and communities throughout the Roman Empire; all of the anticipation, all of the talking, bickering, debating, speculating and theorizing about the Messiah which consumed the faithful of that day—no one thought to look for the Lord’s Anointed in a dark stable, lying in a manger.

Certainly if (as the Gospel According to Luke testifies) Mary gave birth to Jesus in overcrowded Bethlehem during the taking of a national census, it would stand to reason that others in the crowded inn and adjoining stable would have been aware of the event. Others would have heard the newborn Jesus crying. Others would have passed the babe in the manger. Even with no heralding angles or stars rising in the east, Jesus was not born in isolation, in secret or even in the privacy of a home.

And yet as far as our traditions tell us, not a single soul in closest proximity to the newborn babe had the slightest inkling that their Messiah had come—that the child was “Emmanuel”—meaning “God with us.” The populist notions of national pride and power, the certainty that national and sectarian interests were the measure of God’s interests, the testimonies delivered by the multitudes asserting that they already knew the truth regarding the ways in which God operated—all of these combined to blind people to the way in which redemption, salvation, restoration, peace and the reign of God were being brought into the world.

For those who accepted Jesus as the Messiah—the Christ—God had entered the world quietly, undermining not only popular beliefs about how He operates but also undermining all traditional, orthodox assumptions about the very nature of the Divine’s relationship with humanity.

In Jesus’s day, as in our own, people were looking for blinding beams of glory streaming from the heaven, for the bright flash of a national deliverer’s sword, for the glowing radiance of thrones, crowns, riches and royal opulence.

No one thought of looking for the Light in the countenance of the weakest of humans—a seemingly ordinary infant asleep among the animals in a common stable.

As Phillip Brooks wrote his immortal 1868 Christmas carol:

“How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.”

FOOD FOR THOUGHT:
How much time and energy have I spent looking heavenward for signs and wonders rather than looking at the world around me, in the faces and lives of others?

How have my experiences of God undermined the expectations I had based on my religious upbringing?


SHARING FOOD FOR THOUGHT: This Christmas Season bring up the above questions in conversations with family members or friends.

Don’t argue; don’t attempt to convince or convert one another to any particular idea. Just discuss your thoughts openly and honestly. Seek to understand one another first and then try to make your ideas understood. The objective is to create a bond between yourself and the other person in which such ideas can be expressed openly and without fear; in which each person can be true to what they believe while still feeling respected by the other person. The objective is to strengthen the sense of community between you and others.

For more information on Reform Mormonism visit www.reformmormonism.org

ADVENT OF THE LIGHT: LOVE

ADVENT OF THE LIGHT: LOVE

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels,
but do not have love,
I am only a resounding gong
or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy
and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains,
but do not have love,
I am nothing.

If I give all I possess to the poor
and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,
but do not have love,
I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others,
it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.

Love never fails.

But where there are prophecies, they will cease;
where there are tongues, they will be stilled;
where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part,
but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.
When I was a child, I talked like a child,
I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;
then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain:
faith, hope and love.

But the greatest of these is love.”
(I Corinthians 13)

ADVENT OF THE LIGHT: JOY

In even the darkest times, the promised advent of Christ’s Light offers us a reason to rejoice. For despite the chaos, despair and violence of the current age, the vision of a future age in which these things have no place has long inspired prophets and poets throughout history.

Anciently the defeated and dispersed Children of Israel were encouraged by their prophets to never lose sight of a joyous future age that would be ushered in by a coming Messiah:

“The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.
Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”
Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
And a highway will be there;
it will be called the Way of Holiness;
it will be for those who walk on that Way.
The unclean will not journey on it;
wicked fools will not go about on it.
No lion will be there,
nor any ravenous beast;
they will not be found there.
But only the redeemed will walk there,
and those the Lord has rescued will return.
They will enter Zion with singing;
everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
and sorrow and sighing will flee away.”
(Isaiah 35:1-10)

In early nineteenth century America, another prophet, while illegally imprisoned for months in a small Missouri jail, cast his thoughts forward to that same future time, envisioning how the dead would be restored to the living in an eternal joyful union. Rather than give in to feelings of gloom and despair because of current injustices and suffering, this prophet encouraged his brothers and sisters to press forward with joy:

“Now, what do we hear in the gospel which we have received?
A voice of gladness!
A voice of mercy from heaven;
and a voice of truth out of the earth;
glad tidings for the dead;
a voice of gladness for the living and the dead;
glad tidings of great joy…
Brethren, shall we not go on in so great a cause?
Go forward and not backward.
Courage, brethren; and on, on to the victory!
Let your hearts rejoice, and be exceedingly glad.
Let the earth break forth into singing.
Let the dead speak forth anthems of eternal praise to the King Immanuel…
Let the mountains shout for joy, and all ye valleys cry aloud;
and all ye seas and dry lands tell the wonders of your Eternal King!
And ye rivers, and brooks, and rills, flow down with gladness.
Let the woods and all the trees of the field praise the Lord;
and ye solid rocks weep for joy!
And let the sun, moon, and the morning stars sing together,
and let all the sons of God shout for joy!
And let the eternal creations declare his name forever and ever!
And again I say, how glorious is the voice we hear from heaven,
proclaiming in our ears, glory, and salvation,
and honor, and immortality, and eternal life;
kingdoms, principalities, and powers!
…Behold, the great day of the Lord is at hand;
and who can abide the day of his coming,
and who can stand when he appears?
For he is like a refiner’s fire, and like fuller’s soap;
and he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver,
and he shall purify the sons of Levi,
and purge them as gold and silver,
that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness. “
(Doctrine & Covenants 128: 19, 22, 23-24)

Though the past year may have had its fill of disappointments, hurts and anger, let us pay renewed attention to the prophetic voices found in scripture. Let us learn from the things we may have suffered and then let us release that pain, allowing it to recede into the darkness of the past. As Christmas approaches, let us rejoice in the coming of Christ’s Light into a world in need of healing and restoration—for as the scripture testify, we are that we might have joy! (See II Nephi 2:25)

ADVENT OF THE LIGHT: PEACE

In a world that is often darkened by war, violence and injustices, the human family has clung to the hope for a future time of peace.

Too often peace is mistakenly seen only as the absence of war and social unrest. But history is filled with examples of so-called peaceful ages that were nevertheless filled with injustice and suffering. The Roman Empire—into which Jesus and his first followers were born—prided itself on maintaining peace (the Pax Romana). This “peace” was narrowly defined as putting down any rebellion and social unrest; silencing critics and dissenters; imposing strict social order while quickly and severely punishing any who dared break the law. It was assumed then—as indeed, it is often assumed now—that peace can be imposed; that violence and the threat violent punishment can bring about and maintain peace.

The ancient prophetic writings of the Israelites put forth a vision of peaceful age that would be brought about by a future Messiah—and this vision was embraced centuries later by those who followed Jesus. The most famous example from these prophetic writings is found in the Book of Isaiah:

“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might; the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—and he will delight in the fear of the Lord. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth; with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked. Righteousness will be his belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist. The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling[a] together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the cobra’s den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. In that day, the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.’ (Isaiah 11:1—10)

At first glance, the vision seems to maintain the same ideas regarding peace that are found elsewhere in the history of the ancient world—namely, that a messianic individual (the “shoot” or stem that will come up from “the stump of Jessie”) will appear and impose peace by force.

But even as this vision concentrates on the work of this one messianic individual, there are some differences. When he appears, he will not judge by what he sees and hears, but with the spirits of knowledge and wisdom he will be able to discern the true condition of the poor and the needy; and so, his judgments will be rooted in righteousness; he will act justly.

This expands the concept of peace beyond just the absence of violence, war, crime and social unrest: the concept of peace is broadened to include justice—and justice for the weakest and least influential people in society.

The concept of peace is further expanded to include a change in natural inclinations themselves: animals that instinctively attack each other are envisioned as living peacefully side by side with each other—and with human beings.

Can the transformation of such seemingly natural instincts and inclinations, be imposed from without by someone—even by the powerful messianic figure envisioned in this prophecy?

Certainly many people anciently thought so—which is why the majority of those who clung to Isaiah’s prophecy rejected Jesus of Nazareth as their long-awaited Messiah. Simply put, though he may have been seen a just, wise and merciful, he was executed as a common criminal by the Roman Empire. Indeed, he was executed in a manner (crucifixion) that was reserved for political enemies of the state. After his execution the world apparently continued on in darkness, with a constant stream of wars, violence, crimes and injustices. The wolf, the lion and the lamb were still not living peacefully side by side.

Perhaps Peace is not something that can be imposed upon us but is something which we must actively pursue —as is suggested by this scripture:

“Therefore, renounce war and proclaim peace…” (Doctrine & Covenants 98:16)


Perhaps we must first renounce war—a powerful act of faith in itself, since we live in a world in which physical power and the threat of physical attack are the foundation of all human law and government.

But renouncing war—even refusing to participate in war—will have a limited effect on bringing about the kind of peace imagined without this:

“And above all things, clothe yourselves with the bond of charity, as with a mantle, which is the bond of perfectness and peace.” (Doctrine & Covenants 88:125)

While this scripture speaks of clothing oneself with charity (Love), what is referred to is actually an internal process—an inward change. Charity—Love—comes from within a person. Merely going through the actions of loving others, will have a limited effect on the world. To honestly cultivate genuine love for others opens our minds so that we—like the messianic figure of Isaiah’s prophecy—do not judge by appearances. Instead we open ourselves upon to the spirit of wisdom and a greater probability of judging righteously.

This internal, spiritual process can enlighten our minds—even when we are dealing with those who threaten us, harm us or unjustly use us.

“…make proposals for peace unto those who have smitten you, according to the voice of the Spirit which is in you, and all things shall work together for your good.” (Doctrine & Covenants 105:40)

The Peaceable Kingdom envisioned by Isaiah will come about with the Advent of Christ’s Light in our hearts.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT:
How narrow or broad is your idea of “Peace?”
How has your idea of “Peace” changed during the course of your life? What things have influenced that change?
Can the “Peace” envisioned in scripture be imposed by outside forces—even by God? If your answer is “yes”—why? If your answer is “no”—why?


SHARING FOOD FOR THOUGHT: In your conversations with three different family members or friends bring up this question:

How is Peace related to Justice? How is it related to Love?

Don’t argue; don’t attempt to convince or convert one another to any particular idea. Just discuss your thoughts openly and honestly. Seek to understand one another first and then try to make sure your ideas are understood. The objective is to create a bond between yourself and the other person in which such ideas can be expressed openly and without fear; in which each person can be true to what they believe while still feeling respected by the other person. The objective is to strengthen the sense of community between you and others.

For more information on Reform Mormonism visit www.reformmormonism.org

ADVENT OF THE LIGHT: HOPE

“And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons…’” (Genesis 1:14)

Throughout all of recorded history, the human imagination has been fueled by what was observed in the heavens. Around the world in all cultures and among believers of all faiths, the daily rising and setting of both the sun and the moon brought forth rich religious symbolism. Likewise, the passing of the seasons and the changing movement of the stars with those seasons, inspired symbols and myths.

The winter Solstice which usually occurs during the third week of December in the earth’s Northern Hemisphere is the shortest day of the year. And yet from ancient times, among virtually all people, this Solstice was venerated as a time marking the return of light to the world. From this date, onward, the days become increasingly longer, culminating in the longest day of the year six months later. In regions that experience cold weather or intense winters, the light also symbolized the eventual return of life-giving warmth. Light also became a powerful metaphor: light dispels darkness; light reveals what was hidden; light bring clarity of vision.

When pagan nations embraced Christianity, they continued their solstice celebrations as Christmas, interpreting the return of sunlight as symbolic of the coming of divine light into the word, embodied in the birth of Jesus Christ. The Jewish holiday of Hanukkah, which is also celebrated during the same of the year, commemorates the return of light to the ancient temple in Jerusalem during the time of the Maccabees.

As the Winter season sets in, a reminder that, despite the darkness and cold, the days are becoming longer and brighter, can be a source of hope. The coming of light to a darkened world is found throughout scripture:

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” (See Isaiah 9:2 and II Nephi 19:2 )

The Advent Season—the four weeks leading up to Christmas—encourages us to look forward with eager anticipation the coming (the Advent) of Christ and his Light into the word. The theme of Advent’s first week is Hope.

HOPE

Hope is one of the three spiritual gifts and virtues extolled in the writings of the Apostle Paul and in “The Book of Mormon”—the other two being Faith and Love (Charity).

The first followers of Jesus embraced a belief in the resurrection of the body—a belief that death itself was only temporary; that God would bring about a renewal of the heavens and the earth and establish an eternal realm of justice, righteousness and peace. All who had died would be restored to life and be invited to take part in God’s eternal Kingdom.

But despite this belief, the world remained unchanged overall. In fact, many who converted to this new faith became objects of scorn, ridicule and outright persecution by the legal authorities of the time. Despite a belief in a future of Light, the present remained Dark.

In such a time, the concept of Hope became important to these believers. Despite the advances of the past two thousand years since, the world can still be seen as a dark place. Violence, injustice, ignorance and hatred are as potent in our day as they were in millennia past. Hope for a world over which peace, justice, knowledge and love flow like a river is still a powerful force—not only in the struggle to maintain an individual’s private faith but also in the advancement of the human family generally.

“Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.” (Ether 12:4)

FOOD FOR THOUGHT
How have you used the symbols of “light” and “darkness” in your thinking and in your faith?
How is ‘hope’ different from ‘optimism?’
What could be the downside of always being ‘optimistic?’
What is the relationship between ‘hope’ and ‘knowledge?’
What is the relationship between ‘hope’ and ‘faith?’
To be a force for good in your life, where should your hope be focused? Why?

SHARING FOOD FOR THOUGHT:During the coming days, in conversations with three different friends or family members why not try bringing up these questions and see where the conversation goes:

Do you think hope different from optimism? In what do you have hope? What would your life be like without this hope?

Don’t argue; don’t attempt to convince or convert one another to any particular idea. Just discuss your thoughts openly and honestly. Seek to understand one another first and then try to make sure your ideas are understood. The objective is to create a bond between yourself and the other person in which such ideas can be expressed openly and without fear; in which each person can be true to what they believe while still feeling respected by the other person. The objective is to strengthen the sense of community between you and others.

For more information on Reform Mormonism visit www.reformmormonism.org

FOR THE BEAUTY OF THE EARTH

In our previous lesson, we explored how most religious traditions, by focusing focus of going somewhere else after we die (Heaven, Hell, the Celestial Kingdom, the presence of God, etc.), overlook the very thing upon which Christ, Prophets and Scripture focused: that of our character—the type of person we are and the type of person we’re becoming. Our focus should not be on going somewhere but on becoming someone—someone who has within them all the qualities and virtues we envision God having.

A second effect of focusing on where we go when we die, is that the value we give to life here and now on earth is diminished.


Often in gatherings of devout Christians, one will hear people say: “This world is not my home; I’m just passing through; heaven is my home.”

Popular Evangelical songwriters Bill and Gloria Gaither expressed this in one of their popular songs, “Going Home”:

“Going home, I'm going home!
There is nothing to hold me here!
I've caught a glimpse of that Heavenly land!
Praise God, I'm going home!”

The line, “There is nothing to hold me here” expresses a very dismal outlook about life on earth. For many Christians—and for many believers in other religious traditions—this world is seen as a “vale of tears”—a cursed, fallen state of corruption to be escaped or overcome. But how many of us—regardless of our professed religion—can actually look around us and, in all honesty, say that we see nothing that we value—nothing to “hold us here?”

Such a belief also affects how we view ourselves. It is common for many Christians and Evangelicals to describe themselves as just “damaged earthen vessels” in which their spirits reside. While these same people are usually very vocal in declaring themselves “Bible-believing Christians” the idea that one’s spirit is one’s “true self” and that the body and physical existence is faulty, sinful and something to be discarded is NOT Biblical at all. Such an idea is found in the teachings of the Greek philosopher Plato and in the mysticism of the ancient Gnostics, but it is anathema to the beliefs and views of the ancient Israelites and first century Jews—those people who wrote the Bible.

The popular religious view of seeing life on earth as something to which believers should joyfully bid farewell is contrasted in Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play, “Our Town.”

The play follows day-to-day life in a tiny New England town—Grover’s Corner—where nothing out of the ordinary ever happens. The heroine—a teenage girl named Emily—grows up, marries the boy next door but then tragically dies in childbirth. The play’s final act takes place in the town graveyard where Emily’s spirit watches her own funeral. Before letting go of the earth and moving on to whatever awaits her in eternity, she attempts to relive one day of her life—her twelfth birthday. Only then does she fully realize how quickly times passes, how little time people take to actually look at one another, listen to one another and connect. Only then does she realize the true beauty life on earth. Only then does she fully appreciate how precious every minute of even the most mundane day was.

“I didn't realize it. So, all that was going on in life and we never noticed. Take me back—up the hill—to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corner—Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking and Mama's sunflowers…and food and coffee…and new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you! Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it—every, every minute?” (“Our Town” by Thornton Wilder)



Unlike the Gaithers and so many other believers, Emily is overwhelmed by all the beauty of the earth, of her relationships with her loved ones—all of which have a profound hold on her and define who she is at the deepest level.

In Hebrew the word for “Adam” (which is initially used in scripture to define both man and woman) is a play on the Hebrew word for the earth—“Adama.” So while it is commonly translated into English as “Adam,” “man” or “human,” it more accurately could be translated as something akin to “earthling”—a word which sounds ridiculous given its use in Science Fiction. But this Hebrew play on words conveys an essential truth: to be human is to be part of the earth. Earth is the rightful abode of human beings.

That idea can be seen as positive or negative based upon the story that your religion tells.

Every religion tells a story of some kind. Whether that story is historical fact, myth or fiction is really of little importance to the living of one’s day-to-day life. What is essential—the thing by which “the truth” of the story is found in the meaning that it holds for the believer—in the values that the believer develops based upon the story.

For example—

Drawing from the Bible, a religion tells this story: Adam and Eve lived happily in Eden with God, but because they ate the forbidden fruit, God cast them from his presence and now they are lost in a sinful word, doomed to Hell unless God saves them.

If this is the story one’s religion tells, then the focus of that religion is simply to be saved from sin so that one can return to God’s presence.

But the religious tradition that begins its story with the Fall of Adam and Eve has already ignored the story that the writers and editors of the Bible told.

Their story begins with God organizing the earth and bringing forth all life upon it—including human beings who exist in the image of God. God declares earth and all life upon it as being good. Later the humans eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge and in doing so, God declares that now they can discern good from evil in the same way He does. Because of this, He casts them out of Eden. On their own, they are now responsible for their own choices—for they know good from evil. When they are inhumane toward one another—when they cheat, steal, harm and kill one another—God condemns these actions as evil, sinful and ungodly. But God does not give up on humans and their capacity for righteousness and holiness. Neither does God condemn or denigrate the earth and nature because of the evil committed by some. Instead God sets about to restore human beings to the relationship He intended them to have with Him and with one another. God sets about restoring the entire earth to reflect His original intention for it.

As the ancient Israelites and the earliest followers of Christ saw it, yes there was suffering and evil on earth—but this was not the earth’s destiny. Justice, goodness, mercy and love would triumph in the end. The earth would be renewed—and what good we do now would remain eternally as a part of that renewal.

Reform Mormonism embraces this message. That message was central to the lives of the first Mormons, who gathered together for the purpose of building up a New Jerusalem—of establishing Zion, which was defined as “the Pure in Heart.”

Jesus taught his followers to pray “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.”

The Kingdom of God is not some far off ethereal realm beyond the grave—some fairyland of puffy clouds and angels with harps. The Kingdom of God is here on earth—and it is established when we open ourselves to the influence of God’s Spirit and begins to cultivate the virtues we envision God possessing.

Far from denouncing this life in hopes of life after death, the earth and all things in it are to be embraced with thanksgiving! Every moment of our lives has value! Our relationships with others here and now are the very things that define us as individuals and they will extend into eternity! So, give thanks!

This view is celebrated in the words of Folliot S. Pierpoint's beloved hymn "For the Beauty of the Earth":

"For the beauty of the earth,
for the glory of the skies,
for the love which from our birth
over and around us lies...

"...For the joy of ear and eye,
for the heart and mind's delight,
for the mystic harmony,
linking sense to sound and sight...

"...For the joy of human love,
brother, sister, parent, child,
friends on earth and friends above,
for all gentle thoughts and mild;
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise."


Questions: How can viewing the earth and our life upon as good influence our choices, the formation of our character—and how might these things impact the lives of others and society at large?
How can we live lives of thanksgiving?

Challenge: In your conversations with three different family members or friends bring up this question:

What if religion focused on valuing our life here and now; on valuing the earth and nature; of valuing other people—how differently would we live our day to day lives? What kind of people would we become if we at least tried to do this?

Don’t argue; don’t attempt to convince or convert one another to any particular idea. Just discuss your thoughts openly and honestly. Seek to understand one another first and then try to make sure your ideas are understood. The objective is to create a bond between yourself and the other person in which such ideas can be expressed openly and without fear; in which each person can be true to what they believe while still feeling respected by the other person. The objective is to strengthen the sense of community between you and others.

For more information on Reform Mormonism visit www.reformmormonism.org

WE'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE

When twenty-five-year-old Alvin Smith died suddenly on November 19, 1823, his family and the community were shocked.

Alvin had always been the picture of health: a hard-worker, he had spent the previous three years clearing the land he had leased for his aging parents and leading the efforts to build a house for their large family. Tall and athletically built, he loved to wrestle and was known for his physical strength. For recreation, he often accompanied his father, younger brother Joseph and other local “money diggers” on night-time hunts in the local forests and hills for buried treasure.

The Smiths were newcomers to Palmyra—having moved there from Vermont only six years earlier—and while long-time Palmyra residents tended to look down upon them as uneducated, superstitious and lazy, most locals admired Alvin for being hardworking and practical-minded.

When in November of 1823, Alvin complained of abdominal pains, no one could have imagined that his death was imminent. A local doctor administered what was then a common treatment—one which contained mercury. Within days Alvin died—not from disease but from mercury poisoning.

The entire Smith family was stunned by Alvin’s death. Father Smith—Joseph Smith, Senior—had struggled for years with alcoholism. Mother Smith—Lucy Mack Smith—had for years swung from periods of frenetic, hard-working determination to periods of near crippling self-doubt and depression. Father Smith was a liberal-minded Universalist while Mother Smith tended to be a theologically conservative Calvinist. Throughout their marriage their differences and arguments regarding religion were on full display, and their children were caught in the middle—each having to navigate their way on their own. Being the oldest child, Alvin had been the one stabilizing influence not only for his younger brothers and sisters, but also for his parents.

Now he was suddenly gone.

Alvin’s funeral was held at the Western Presbyterian Church in Palmyra. Though Father Smith opposed any family members joining any existing religious denomination, Mother Smith had been friends with many of the women of the Presbyterian congregation. Given that fact, it seemed only natural that Alvin’s funeral be held at Western Presbyterian and that his body be interned in the Presbyterian cemetery.

Rev. Benjamin B. Stockton conducted the funeral service. William Smith, who was twelve at the time, later recalled that in the funeral sermon Rev. Stockton “intimated very strongly” that Alvin had gone to hell because he had never professed the Christian faith and joined a church.

The very idea that someone as kind, upstanding and hard-working as Alvin would spend eternity in hell because of religious differences infuriated Father Smith and his seventeen-year-old son, Joseph. For them the idea seemed to undermine the concept of a just and loving God.

Arguments were probably made then—as they are now by Christians who hold such beliefs—that because God is so holy and righteous, He can’t tolerate any degree of sinfulness in His presence. Such arguments rang hollow with Father Smith and Joseph.

It seems reasonable to conclude that Rev. Stockton’s consigning of Alvin to an eternity in Hell, troubled Mother Smith and other Smith children. Over time, however, their reaction to Rev. Stockton’s beliefs were the opposite of Father Smith’s and Joseph’s: Mother Smith and her eldest children, Hyrum and Sophronia, became Presbyterians.

This no doubt led to even more intense divisions within the family. One can easily imagine Father Smith being not only outraged but hurt that his wife and oldest children could accept the faith of a minister who had publicly suggested that their beloved Alvin was in Hell.

“Where did Alvin go when he died?” The question was a bombshell—one with the potential to rip apart a family already under tremendous financial and emotional stress.

Discussion Questions: How have questions, beliefs and feelings about where one goes when one dies affected your relationships with family and friends?
What have been the negative effects?
What have been the positive effects?
How were the effects of this question upon the Smith family like or unlike those on your family and friends?

WHERE DO WE GO WHEN WE DIE?

That question is at the heart of most religious thinking—even today. Most people—religious and non-religious—assume that the purpose of religion and faith is to get them somewhere else after they die.

How often has a Christian asked, “If you were to die today, would you go to heaven or hell?”

When people talk about “salvation” or “being saved”—this is what most of them are talking about. To “be saved” is to go to heaven when you die—or so they assume.

Believers from other traditions might talk about “Returning to the presence of Our Heavenly Father” or “entering the Celestial Kingdom.”

GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE has become to be-all/end-all of religion.

And to GO TO THIS PLACE people are told that they need to…

…believe the right things…

….or have faith in the right things….

.....or say and pray certain things (such as the so-called sinner’s prayer)…

….or join the right church and remain faithful to it until they die…

...or participate in some ceremony, sacrament or ordinance...

…or embrace a certain lifestyle….

…or turn from a certain lifestyle.

Regardless of the religion or the prescription, the focus is all about going somewhere else when you die. Believe, say or say, join, do this or don’t do that and you will be rewarded when you die by being admitted to a good place for eternity—rather than being sent to a bad place for eternity.

Discussion Questions: How much of your time and energy has been devoted to thinking about or worrying about where you will go when you die?
If you believe in an existence after death, how central to that belief is the idea of “going somewhere else?”
How could you separate your ideas about an afterlife from the idea of going somewhere else when you die?
In your own life and in your relationships with others, what have been the effects—both positive and negative—of thinking that the central purpose of religion or faith is to make sure that you go to some particular place when you die?
How can focusing on going someplace else when you die negatively affect your life here and now?

IT’S ABOUT BECOMING SOMEONE—NOT GOING SOMEWHERE

The Smith family spent years worrying about believing or doing the right things so that when they died they would go to Heaven and not Hell. In many ways, these worries and anxieties undermined their day-to-day efforts to work their way out of the grinding poverty in which they lived.

Early in his life, Joseph Smith, Jr. shared his parents’ anxieties and attempted in various ways—some irrational and some reasonable—to address the questions that plagued not only his family but many religious seekers in the early 19th century. During the course of his life, Joseph embraced, explored and then discarded or altered many different theological premises regarding the nature of God, human nature, existence, life’s purpose and life after death.

The theology that he developed later in his life switched the focus from going somewhere else when you die to becoming a particular type of character.

This theology is the foundation of the good news proclaimed by Reform Mormonism…

…And that good news is this: There is no need to worry about where you are going when you die. Yes, there is life after death, but the focus of Reform Mormonism is not about going somewhere else when we die. The focus is on becoming a certain type of person.

And that doesn’t mean changing yourself to conform to some cookie-cutter mold created by others. It means to progress, to grow and to develop within yourself those virtues and qualities that you envision God possessing.

How many people calling themselves Christians—people who go around talking non-stop about Christ and salvation—are actually like Christ himself? The name “Jesus” is constantly on their lips, but when you think of Jesus and then look at them, there are few if any similarities in their character.

How many people go around talking about God, claiming to act in God’s name—and yet when you think of God’s character—God’s Love, Grace, Forgiveness—you don’t see that character reflected in these people.

Because most religions focus on going somewhere else when we die, they completely overlook the most important thing that Jesus, prophets and scripture addressed—that of our character. Indeed, many of those who are the loudest in proclaiming their faith in Christ, declare that human nature is so corrupt that to focus on character at all is wrong and misguided. It is just assumed that when we die and move on to that better place (if we do what we are told to do in order to be admitted there), that our character—our emotional and ethical makeup—will somehow miraculously change.

Reform Mormonism holds that character matters. In fact, character is the thing upon which we should all focus.

We envision God possessing certain qualities and virtues—and it is these virtues that entice us to love God. It is these virtues and qualities that we should develop within ourselves.

By doing this, we impact the world here and now. Eternal Life begins this very moment. The seeds of Heaven are planted here on earth and they begin to grow.

We’re not going anywhere.

The purpose of religious faith is not to go somewhere.

The purpose of religious faith is to become someone.

Challenge: In your conversations with three different family members or friends bring up this question:

What if religion focused on what type of person we’re becoming instead of where we’re going when we die?

Don’t argue; don’t attempt to convince or convert one another to any particular idea. Just discuss your thoughts openly and honestly. Seek to understand one another first and then try to make sure your ideas are understood. The objective is to create a bond between yourself and the other person in which such ideas can be expressed openly and without fear; in which each person can be true to what they believe while still feeling respected by the other person. The objective is to strengthen the sense of community between you and others.

For more information on Reform Mormonism visit www.reformmormonism.org

ON ORTHODOXY, APOSTASY, JOHN DEHLIN & KING BENJAMIN

First consider the following:

You are approached by someone who is clearly in a desperate situation. This person begs for your help. What do you do?

Could you easily help them without any great personal sacrifice? What if in helping this person your own well-being or that of your loved ones is compromised? What do you do if you know the person begging for your help bears full responsibility for his desperate situation? Do you help this person anyway—knowing that in the future he might do things that will again bring him to another desperate situation?

How you respond to this person’s plea for help will not only affect him. It will also reveal something essential about you—about your values and ethics; your relationship with others generally; your views on human nature; your ideas regarding justice; your emotional makeup and the content of your character.

To find one’s self in this sort of situation is to come face to face with many of life’s biggest questions. It is to find one’s self in that place where one’s ideas of right and wrong are challenged—where they must be put into practice or discarded. If one believes in God, this is the sort of situation in which one might contemplate the will of God and the relationship of God to the human race. If one is not religiously inclined, this situation could nevertheless cause one to contemplate one’s place in society and the duty—if any—that citizens owe one another.

Now consider the following:

On this past Tuesday (February 1, 2015), John Dehlin—the creator of the hugely popular and socially impactful podcast “Mormon Stories”—was excommunicated for apostasy from the LDS Church—Mormonism’s largest denomination. The decision by John’s local LDS Priesthood authorities to excommunicate him for apostasy was unanimous. In the official LDS Church statement regarding the nature of John’s so-called apostasy, these LDS Priesthood authorities cited John’s statements that “The Book of Mormon” and “The Book of Abraham” — part of the LDS canon of scripture — are fraudulent and works of fiction.

The LDS Church teaches that “The Book of Mormon” is a divinely given, literal translation of ancient American writings that had been engraved on gold plates prior to 425 AD. The LDS Church teaches that Mormonism’s founder, Joseph Smith, was led by an angel to a spot on a hillside in New York State where ancient American prophets—themselves descendants of earlier Jewish refugees from Jerusalem—had buried the book in the fifth century AD. The LDS Church teaches that “The Book of Mormon” contains a thousand year history of two great ancient American peoples who were the descendants of ancient Israelites. It also teaches that some of these ancient Israelites were the actual ancestors of some Native Americans.

A great part of John’s so-called apostasy is that he accepts the findings of traditional mainstream archeology—which asserts that there is no evidence whatsoever for the existence of the two great cultures which makeup the central plot of “The Book of Mormon.”

John also accepts the findings of research in Native American DNA. There is no DNA evidence of a link between Native Americans and the population of ancient Palestine.

John has also studied early Mormon documents, accounts by Joseph Smith’s contemporaries—both Mormon and non-Mormons; he has explored the history of American society and American religion in the early 19th century—and all of this study has convinced him that “The Book of Mormon” is not an ancient American historical document but an early 19th century American work of religious fiction.

Because John not only came to these conclusions but broadcast and discussed them publicly in “Mormon Stories Podcasts,” the LDS Church has labeled him an apostate and has excommunicated him from their organization.

HOW ARE THESE TWO THNGS—John Dehlin’s excommunication from the LDS Church from apostasy, and having someone in a dire situation begging your help—RELATED?

“The Book of Mormon” contains an account of an ancient American king of Jewish ancestry named Benjamin who, shortly before his death (supposedly in the late second century B.C.), preached a great sermon to his people, regarding their relationship with God and their duties to their fellow human beings. In this sermon, King Benjamin taught the following regarding helping others in dire situations:

“…ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of your substance unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain, and turn him out to perish.
“Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—
“But I say unto you, O man, whosoever doeth this, the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God.
“For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?
“And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.”
(Mosiah 4: 16—21)

Now whether one accepts King Benjamin’s reasoning or not, one must admit that he puts forth very succinct, very clear principles that one could consider when one is approached for help by another in a dire situation. Rejecting King Benjamin’s principles or acting upon them will reveal much about the content of one’s character and how one views his or her relationship to the human family.

One is approached by someone in need; one must decide how to respond that person’s cry for help; in deciding how to respond, one considers King Benjamin’s principles; one makes a decision and acts upon it; one’s actions reveal much about one’s character and one’s spiritual and ethical state at that time.

Notice the one thing absent from all of this—the one thing that is completely unimportant. It is this question: Was King Benjamin a real person who lived in ancient America, or is he a completely fictional character created in the 1820’s by Joseph Smith?

In the end the answer either way is completely irrelevant to the actual situation at hand: how does one respond to another’s plea for help.

In the context of ethics, of personal spiritual progression, of human relationships, of how one envisions his or her relationship to God—how one responds to a beggar’s plea for help is of immeasurable importance. The role that King Benjamin’s principles play in that response are much more important as far as one’s relationship with “The Book of Mormon” is concerned that one’s beliefs regarding the historicity of either the book and King Benjamin.

If an international religious organization like the LDS Church continues the Dark Ages tradition of excommunicating members for apostasy, it might consider using the principles found in their scriptures as the basis for those actions rather than beliefs and opinions regarding the historicity of those scriptures.

But like so many orthodox, fundamentalist or literalist religious organizations, the LDS Church does not teach a religion that is based primarily on principles. Instead it teaches a religion that is first and foremost a religion ABOUT a set of scriptures and ABOUT the LDS Church itself. One believes without doubting and without any public questioning the things that the LDS Church claims about itself and what it claims about its scriptures. To not believe and to publically question is to court excommunication and the label of “apostate.”

Reform Mormonism is a religion that is first and foremost about principles.

When a Reform Mormon is approached by one in need, considering King Benjamin’s principles is much more important than believing that the king was an actual historical figure. Likewise, Reform Mormons might draw upon the principles attributed to Jesus in the New Testament Sermon on the Mount and in “The Book of Mormon’s” sermon at the Nephite temple. Whether the historical Jesus actually stood atop a Judean mount and taught those principles—or whether he actually appeared in ancient America after a resurrection from the dead and taught them—is of no importance.

Reform Mormonism is a religion centered upon one’s quest to develop within one’s own character the virtues and attributes that one envisions God possessing. Reform Mormonism teaches that all human beings—by virtue of their humanity—exist in the form and likeness of the Divine, and thus they have within themselves a potential for Divinity.

Through the living of our lives, through the use of our individual agency, through the manner in which we interact with others and encounter adversity, through the degree in which we engage our intellects and emotions, through the manner in which we navigate our way through the complexities of life---through all of these things we are either developing Godliness within ourselves or we are not.

An orthodox religion that is primarily ABOUT the Bible, “The Book of Mormon,” Jesus or Joseph Smith is simply of no practical use or great importance in this process; thus it has no place in Reform Mormonism.

To label someone as “devout” or as an “apostate” regarding such things is meaningless. One could accept orthodox theologies regarding the scripture, Jesus and Joseph Smith; one could eloquently defend that orthodoxy from all attacks and by that same eloquence convert others to that orthodox faith. And yet those orthodox ideas in and of themselves alone are meaningless in developing a Godly character. Orthodoxy does not equal Godliness.

If one reads “The Book of Mormon” with clear eyes, one might see that such a principle is central to the book’s message.

That message is worth considering even if the book is a work of 19th century American religious fiction.

That message is central to Reform Mormonism—which is an “excommunication-free zone,” in which doubts, hard questions, unorthodox beliefs and a diversity of opinions are not only welcomed, but regarded as essential in the Eternal Progression of the human family.