Liminality, Part II: Folk on the Fringe
I started part I with the story of the Samaritan woman who met Jesus at the well. If ever a person may have felt like a pariah walking into the back of a pre-fabbed chapel, it would be her. We don’t deal well with divorce in our culture; we extend even less courtesy to adulterers. In her time she also belonged to an apostate sect AND had gender sitting in her demerits column. She could have touted any number of reasons for laying low and simply worshipping her Lord quietly from the sidelines.
But she spoke up. She launched right into evangelism central. Apparently people listened to her–Christ’s apostles, who initially found the Samaritan path and her place in it particularly noxious, even felt compelled to feature her heroically in the gospels. Maybe the joy of conversion outweighed her anxiety, but considering that caste systems held more firmly in Jesus’ time than in my own, I’m willing to bet that this woman entertained moments of concern. Likewise Alma the Younger, the Sons of Mosiah, and Paul all cavorted from one social pinhole to another, quelling whatever fears they felt and trusting that God and their love for Him outweighed all else. Of course, they also scampered out of Dodge to evangelize to Lamanites and gentiles–trading liminality in one locale for the other.
Let’s face it–sometimes it might be psychologically easier to depart a current ward and don a black name-tag indefinitely. Sticking up for our faith amongst those who naughty-mouth it lends a dandy feeling of heroic martyrdom, whereas plunking down in the same pew each week to defend the integrity of our own doubts, struggles, penchant for dying our hair puce or voting to the left of Pat Bucchanan can easily convince us that, even if we desperately want Mormon Community, it simply does not want us. Plus, angels have yet to knock me off my donkey in regards to, well, anything. Angels and conversations with the Lord might make speaking up a little easier.
Still–and I realize I’m an overtly friendly extrovert whose personality simplifies the equation–I believe we do a disservice to our community when we remain silent in our struggles. If we seek communitas–the shared space of transformation–in addition to the personal revelation also integral to our faith, we have to share. I’d hoped to construct a brilliant plan for how to help move ourselves and our congregations away from a segregation where “folks on the fringe” leave church wary and exhausted. I question lots of stuff and I hardly fit the “Utah Mormon mold” if there truly is such a thing (except, the horror, I do reallytrulyhonestly enjoy green jello with pears in it). Yet I rarely feel marginalized for more than a few moments. This is no doubt because I’m obnoxious and people really can’t shut me up. With a stick. But when I have felt relegated to the “problem people, please abjure” catagory, it’s hurt.
Since we’re all so different, I gave up on formulating a brilliant plan in favor of a generalized reiteration not to hide your light under bushels of any variety–including bushels made of lace tablecloths and Franklin planners. If you’ve got a gift for teasing out multiple meanings for a scripture verse, eschew the tidiness of the tablecloth and make a nice little scriptural mess. It can lead to honest conversation. Those folks sitting next to you made a covenant at baptism to bear your burdens–and you did the same. How can we do that if we pretend our lives are light as a feather (and we act stiff as a board, which is to say veritably dead, when we’re at church)?
Here’s some stuff I’ve done, but that’s just me. This is individual stuff, I know–we probably need concerted efforts as a group, but this is the only place I know to start. Contributions from non-extrovert freaks encouraged :).
1. My Woman at the Well obsession reveals the biggee: speak up, act, be a part off things. Don’t let stereotypes define your ability to love God or others. Wear that ani-difranco t-shirt to the ward social and go ahead and sing the lyric to “sitting in the board room” if it makes you happy. Chances are someone else in the ice-cream line will like it, too.
2. Questions don’t preclude service. Tell the bishop you’re willing to serve. If you’ve got limitations, make ‘em clear.
3. Questions don’t preclude faith, either. Share what you believe and also what you HOPE to believe. Admit they aren’t the same thing.
4. Cultivate the art of polite disagreement, involving concession. GD disagreements seem to lead to open dialog rather than defensive harangue if you can find something about the speaker’s original premise to start by agreeing with. At least sometimes 
5. Willingly entertain the possibility that you are wrong.
6. When someone engages honestly with the congregation–even if you aren’t up to commenting in front of the group–thank them. Empathy offers a great foundation for communitas.
But what happens when you’re just plain tired? I’ve spoken out. I’ve worn my (metaphorical) Ani diFranco shirt. I’m tired of always being shot down – loudly, publicly, humiliatingly, and in my honest but less-than-humble opinion, unjustly.
It’s easy to belong: you just shut up, smile, and nod. But I don’t want to belong. It’s a betrayal of who I am to remain quiet in the face of (let’s call it what it is, folks) stupidity. I’m talking real, genuine stupidity, of the “dinosaurs are a satanic plot” and “racism never existed, it’s just the squeaky wheel getting the grease” variety. But to speak up – to be the person fighting against it, knowing that I will be driven to tears for speaking a different truth, even if I have the scriptures to back me up – becomes disheartening. Is it worth it?
Comment by Quimby — February 19, 2007 @ 10:47 pm
I ♥ Janet!
You have an amazing facility with words and your insights are always uplifting to my soul.
Comment by Blue — February 20, 2007 @ 12:01 am
Yeah, I think it’s worth it. But then again, it doesn’t sound like my subjection to stupidity has been as widespread as yours. People matter, community matters, and because I think it’s where God wants me, I think the people and the community of the LDS church matter. To me, anyhow.
Which doesn’t mean sometimes I don’t want to tear my hair out because RS refuses to transcend the most mundane, superficial and self-congratulatory rhetoric. Or that I don’t feel the weight of my own sinful judgment (and continue to perpetuate it, yargh) on such Sundays.
I suppose it’s a matter of comparative advantages. I wish I could say what’s worth endurance for someone else, but I can’t. I am incredibly sorry people act so uncharitably towards you–you seem like you’d be such fun! I do think it’s ok to step back and treat yourself gently for a while. You have to preserve your sanity, after all.
Comment by Janet — February 20, 2007 @ 12:34 am
Quimby, if I may, I’d like to try out points 1, 4, and 5 with you.
A month or so ago in this space, you set out a plan to improve the material well-being of impoverished people around the world. In the first paragraph, you cited Peter Singer. I was unable to even continue reading the rest of your post because I was dumbfounded that a Mormon would view someone as an authority on ethics who advocates inter-species sexual contact. I had just read an article he wrote called Heavy Petting (no, I’m not going to provide a link). Regardless of what Princeton or the Times thinks of him, I hold him in very low regard, and consequently, I thought very little of you for dragging him into the bloggernacle. I have no interest in getting jiggy with chimpanzees, nor do I feel like accepting lectures on morality from someone who believes that the barnyard is a suitable venue for the getting on of one’s freak. I really was astonished, Quimby. You couldn’t have shocked me more if you had cited Heinrich Himmler.
Now, with that confession, I will admit it would have been more charitable of me to assume you were simply unaware of Singer’s unorthodox views, overlook it, and consider the rest of your argument. Had I done that, I would have been able to meet you at least part way. Sure, there are people who claim dinosaurs never existed or that the world is flat. People say stupid things all the time, inside and outside of church, all along the political spectrum. Usually they are just trying to defend the Bible as they understand it. I used to pick a fight with them – now I’ve found that it is better, as Janet suggests, to maintain an open dialog than go into a defensive harangue. Besides, God loves even stupid people, and we ought to be glad, since most of us are stupid at least part of the time.
Comment by Mark IV — February 20, 2007 @ 12:36 am
Janet–thank you for this post. I needed it.
Comment by kristine N — February 20, 2007 @ 12:39 am
Mark – I wasn’t aware of Peter Singer’s fondness for chimps, but I am aware of some of his other controversial ideas (eg, infanticide should be legal; we should routinely euthanize the disabled; etc – your comparison to Himmler is apt) and while I don’t agree with him on most things, I was surprised to find the essay I linked to made a lot of sense (to me, with my obvious heavy bias towards ending world poverty). Heck, there are a lot of philosophers I can’t stand – Germaine Greer also comes to mind – surprisingly enough both are Australians – but every now and then they come up with an idea that intrigues and interests me.
In reply to the latter part of your message – I’m stupid quite a bit of the time, but I also have “selective amnesia”, which I find to be perhaps the greatest political legacy of Ronald Reagan!
Still, I would be wise to remember that God loves stupid people too. Hmmm, I wonder if I could get a t-shirt with that printed on it?
Comment by Quimby — February 20, 2007 @ 12:50 am
Janet - sometimes it’s less a matter of being treated meanly, and more a matter of having malfunctioning, over-active tear ducts. I also need to forgive and forget more.
Meanwhile I’m right there with you on beating myself up endlessly about my sins. What I really want is a gospel that recognises we all sin, and it’s not a good thing, but we don’t need to be perfect right here, we can take our own sweet time getting there, and meanwhile, God can use us with our sins and even (can’t believe I’m saying this) stupidity.
Comment by Quimby — February 20, 2007 @ 12:57 am
Oh Quimby 9#6) so nicely said.
I’ve seen an increased emphasis on God’s willingness to use us despite and through our errors, past and present, and less of an emphasis on killing ourselves through blasphemous efforts at self-perfection. But I think it will take a while. Someone in RS this Sunday commented that “we aren’t used to thinking repentance applies to us. After all, we have the gospel.” She then went on to talk about how we do all need to repent. It was a fine lesson–but I just sat there wondering if she was right, that LDS people often think their knowledge of the gospel precludes rather than mandates recognition of our sinfulness. It was a weird moment.
I love Mark’s comment. God loves us, stupidity and all
Comment by Janet — February 20, 2007 @ 1:14 am
Kristine–you’re welcome!
Comment by Janet — February 20, 2007 @ 1:15 am
Rich & Blue–thanks! And how do you make the little heart icon? Emoticon prowess eludes me, alas.
Emma’s Son–Holy. Freaking. Cow. I heard some nutso stuff from other missionaries on my mission, but converts can’t go to the celestial kingdom? Gee, what were we doing busting our hineys, then? And no welfare baptisms? Doesn’t sound too much like the Jesus I’ve read about! I love the story about the twelve. Excellent.
Comment by Janet — February 20, 2007 @ 1:22 am
I have frequently spoken up, and more often than not I have been rewarded with a heart-felt “thank you” from someone in the audience afterward for having the courage to express out loud their same feelings that they were afraid to vocalize.
Anyway, I *heart* Janet — another great post.
Comment by Rich — February 20, 2007 @ 1:25 am
I think whether you are a women, a minority or a freaky convert to this “strange religion” (yes to the world in general) you must cultivate a tough skin and a tender heart. My first few years in the church were a rocky road when it came to acceptance by most members no matter what I did. I can remember being given the calling to supervise the young men in the ward. I was just 21 and the women leaders just ripped me apart behind my back because the MIA program I guided with the young men never met their standards. I remembering doing an all nighter putting together stag props for our Road Show and hearing the good sisters whispering behind my back what a lousy job I had done. On my mission I had fellow Elders tell me sincerely they thought converts couldn’t go to the celestial kingdom. I had a Bishop tell not to baptize any people who were on welfare into his ward. Another Bishop told me not to baptize a 15 year old sister until she attended church for a year. I questioned this type of policy in a priesthood meeting a few weeks late in which an apostle attended. He answered me and said we don’t have problems like this in the church, “we work together”! Than he related this story: He told of how after being called to the Quorum of the Twelve he attended his first meeting in the Temple and how he was welcomed in by each member from the newest to the most senior with advice and wisdom. The senior shared with him these few words, “don’t ever take yourself to damn serious”!
Comment by Emma's Son — February 20, 2007 @ 1:52 am
Emma’s Son - I think I love you. Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or anything, so you’re safe. Your experiences are worse than mine. A convert can’t make it to the celestial kingdom? Ye gads, Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, and all those other early apostles and prophets are damned!
Comment by Quimby — February 20, 2007 @ 1:58 am
One thing that seemed to help me deal with being liminal (and I don’t really deal with it well) is remembering that it’s actually MY church, that my invitation didn’t come from any of the people in that ward, but rather, from their master. So I should really remember that I’m the one in the role of a hostess there, rather than as an unwelcome guest. I really liked working with the sister missionaries visiting and teaching investigators, giving them rides to church and back, and helping to make them feel welcome at sacrament meeting. When I was welcoming new people into my church, I felt a lot more at home there.
The other thing that makes me feel like I belong is when I’m given the chance to do a real job for someone. I enjoy tackling something physical, whether it be helping a sister clean or move things or just fixing a broken lamp. The job itself, when done, makes us one, particularly if we worked on it together. Part of the reason it’s so hard for all of us to get along, I think, is that we have too little to do now, we are so self-sufficient now, and well-off. I think Brigham Young was right that material wealth is a big spiritual danger for us as a people.
Comment by Tatiana — February 20, 2007 @ 5:05 am
I want to second quimby’s sense of being tired, too tired to really swim against the tide.
For me, attendence at church is a sacrifice I place on the altar. It really is a sacrifice just to be there, and I think (I hope) God appreciates that for what it is.
Speaking up is hard to do without falling into outright dissention, especially if that’s what I have in my head. And I doubt church is an appropriate place to blatantly reject patriarchy, voice concerns about the ‘pioneer’ days of the church, or question the current priesthood status quo. No one came to hear my issues. And besides, I don’t want to mess up others who desire something comforting out of church. Shouldn’t they get that?
Comment by Mary Ann — February 20, 2007 @ 5:29 am
To set up my point, I would like to first mention that the fundamental of comedy is timing. A lifted eyebrow can be hilarious, but if it is lifted 1/4 second earlier or later than the funny moment, it isn’t funny.
Also, it is a gross generalization, but generally true that women are more feeligns oriented, at least in the way they process experience. Thus, a woman will sense that others disagree with or disrespect something she says in a class, and feel bad, while a man would be more likely to notice very little besides what is spoken in response.
Why do I make those point? Because I tend to be a little off timing from what others expect. One result is that my children think that I’m disagreeing with them or unhappy with them, when I’m simply contemplating what they have said or asked for, and haven’t done anything yet to express an opinion that I haven’t yet formed. My silence gets taken for disapproval.
So I would offer that a large part of the feelings of being out of step with the congregation comes perhaps not so much from them as from within. I don’t know how to teach you to stop assuming you know what others are thinking. Women have always done that and always will, until they become celestial and able to know what is in others’ minds. But any time you assume you know what others have thought, or felt, you are nearly certainly wrong.
This is one of the reasons I’m grateful to be male. As a male, I’m spared beating myself up over what I imagine others think.
Comment by Trueheart — February 20, 2007 @ 6:39 am
Quimby, thank you for accepting my previous comment in a spirit of friendship. I truly appreciate it.
Comment by Mark IV — February 20, 2007 @ 7:47 am
My spelling is showing my age, I swear. I meant: more feelings oriented . . . Not feeligns
Comment by Trueheart — February 20, 2007 @ 8:17 am
Great post Janet - something I definitely needed to hear…
Comment by Sue M — February 20, 2007 @ 10:18 am
Janet,
I’m speechless!
And you know that I am never without comment.
What a beautiful post. What an important post.
Comment by mfranti — February 20, 2007 @ 11:33 am
MaryAnn brings up an important consideration i want to entertain before my mid-morning nap (I stay up all night and babysit early in the morning, nap required). I don’t advocate bonking people over the head with your “issues” as though they were a bat. People should receive comfort at church–but that includes you! People should also experience challenges at church–and that shouldn’t be ONLY you, MaryAnn. I think it’s possible to mention discomfort about some stuff while still bearing testimony of other things, in such a way as to spare feelings and not create a spirit of dissension (and Trueheart is right, I think, that women are more likely to misinterpret disagreement as dissent). Yeah, I’m obsessed with dialog, and yeah, women (chatty beasts that we generally tend to be) can struggle with inquiry and actual communication at church, but I favor gently massaging lessons so that everyone feels both challenged and comforted. I hate the idea of people loathing church–even though I can totally see where MaryAnn and others are coming from. Christ offered peace AND complete intellectual/emotional/spiritual upheaval. All the time. Simultaneously. Without being a jerk. We’ve got to figure out how to do that (hardhardhard!)
I really like Tatiana’s ideas for taking ownership of the church and remembering her invitation came from God, which certainly trumps some unfriendly person in favor of cloned women who resemble sugar cookies–two dimensional, silent, and overly sweet.
I’m not sure I’m really saying what I mean to. Exhaustion and all :).
Comment by Janet — February 20, 2007 @ 12:08 pm
Thank you Janet for all your comments. You make me feel like coming out of the closet. Now, not the Gay closet, but the closet of rich spiritual gifts given because I dared to ask the hard questions of life, the world and the Lord. One more true horror story and than a gift from a prophet. On my mission I was called to an AP near the end of my mission. The Mission President call a special conference to have the missionaries sustain me publicly by the raising of the right arm to the square. They all did. However, after the meeting one Elder from Utah asked to talk with me privately. We went a little ways off and he said the following to me. Elder “AP” we might of sustain you publicly here today, but we will never support you privately. That calling of AP is reserved for those of us born in the church who have lived good Mormon lives and come from good Mormon families, not for some dirty eastern NY hippie convert like you. Now for the better story. In June 1972 while in the Mission home in SLC I had the honor of receiving my Endowment in the Salt Lake Temple. Following that event our missionary group was invite to the 5th floor of the Temple in the Priesthood assembly area to hear President Lee give a short talk and do some Q&A. During the Q&A time I got to ask President Lee a question. I asked how Adam & Eve were literally created. It was quiet in the Temple before I asked that question, but a greater hush went through the crowd after I asked. To me it was an honest humble sincere request, but I felt the majority of the missionaries thought I was out of line. President Lee saw my heart and answered my question with a scripture as he answered all the questions that day by opening the books before us. The answer he gave was in D&C 101:33 & 34. What happened after the meeting is more significant. I stayed behind with a few other Elders & Sisters to shake hands with President Lee. He was very friendly and asked us to walk out with him. As we entered the hallway he stopped and put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Elder I want you always to remember this.” He turned me around and point to a spot in the Temple and said, “This is the very spot that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to the Prophet Lorenzo Snow while he was praying for the church.” He then announced to those around us that the Lord Jesus Christ had walked and does walk the halls of this very Temple.
Comment by Emma's Son — February 20, 2007 @ 12:12 pm
Janet, I love your list of tactics. I’d like to suggest one which fits nicely between your 4th and 5th tactic:
4.5 Mediate and reconcile. Listen carefully to what others are saying. Very often people don’t stop to think through the ramifications of what they’ve said, or realize that they’ve contradicted themselves. Rather than showing that a person has said inconsistent things, express that you’re having a hard time reconciling what Sister A said with what Sister B said (even though you heard Sistar A say the same thing Sister B said at another time). Frame your own insights as your attempt to reconcile the great wisdom of Sister A and Sister B.
This accomplishes a number of goals:
1. You show yourself as part of the community, trying to assimilate community wisdom rather than trying to insert outside ideas;
2. By placing yourself between the two ideas, you frame yourself as the one in the center.
Comment by Christian — February 20, 2007 @ 12:21 pm
again and again, Janet… thankyou. and bless you too.
Comment by G — February 20, 2007 @ 1:12 pm
Janet, this post, which is so beautifully written, is exactly what I needed to pin down what I’ve been feeling for the last six months or so. As I’ve thought about it, I come up with two scriptures that have helped me attempt overcoming liminality in myself and liminality I think I see in others. Before I write them, let me just say I wholeheartedly concur with #1-6, and it is a fine line to walk when you are trying to help with your knowledge/wisdom and being humble.
I get such motivation and relief from the passage of the oft-quoted Ether 12:27, but only from the whole passage, not just vs. 27. Moroni is questioning his abilities and is worried that the Gentiles will mock him and others despite the great message of the gospel. The response is basically, just do what I tell you, you’ll be better for it. Then the really good part: charity. On both sides. Moroni prays for the Genites to have charity toward him, so that they would receive the gospel message despite his own weaknesses. Then the relieving message from the Lord: “If they have not charity it mattereth not unto thee, thou hast been faithful. And because thou hast seen thy weakness thou shalt be made strong.” In other passages we are told to pray for the gift of charity. I try to do that. But I often forget to pray for others to have charity toward me. Though the answer to Moroni was that “it mattereth not” if the Gentiles do not have charity, I don’t think the Lord would have said that if Moroni hadn’t gotten to the point where he could pray for others to have charity.
I think I latch onto the doctrine of charity because there is so much hope in the power of true love. Love for myself, the love I hope others have for me, despite my weird comments in church (and online =)), and the love I hope others see as I work to understand others and peacefully coexist in whatever sphere (as you put hard!hard!hard! and I’ll add one more HARD!!!).
That was long. This scripture I will just quote. Proverbs 21:2 “Every way of a man is right in his own eyes: but the Lord pondereth the hearts.”
Thanks again Janet!
Comment by Nutty — February 20, 2007 @ 4:03 pm
Janet, thanks for this! I really struggle with being myself at church, but it’s something that I believe strongly in doing (I just am way too emotionally sensitive and have a difficult time dealing with the emotional backlash when it backfires on me). But your post has increased my resolve to be myself a little more in my new ward. And I will try to find inspiration from remembering the times when I did this and felt supported and appreciated by my religious community.
Comment by Seraphine — February 20, 2007 @ 8:48 pm
Christian and M&Ms additional strategies expound nicely upon the charity which I hope undergirds my original (and incomplete) list.
Nutty’s attention to the full advice of Ether 12 equally fill out my hope :). My favorite verse from that chapter has got to be “wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with a surety, hope for a better world..yay even a place on the right hand of God where hope, cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of [all]”
All y’all are doing a nifty job of helping me refine my thoughts and feel more a part of both the ‘nacle community and the community i attend at church. Gracias!
Comment by Janet — February 21, 2007 @ 12:13 am
This was a well-written post, Janet (no surprise there, though). It’s one of those posts that I will have to digest a bit with all that it has to offer.
May I add one more thing to your list, not-as-profound-as-your-thoughts though it may be (and certainly not expressed in such a beautiful way)? Try to give others the benefit of the doubt, even as you want the same. Some people really and truly don’t know how to deal with others who have doubts and questions such as are discussed in the ‘nacle. Either they just lack in the gift of sympathy, and/or they may not have had the experience to deal with ideas different from theirs. Or sometimes what they say may feel like an attack or meanness when it’s really just cluenessness being manifest. I think learning to deal with differences is a skill that can be developed, but it takes patience and a willingness to forgive for that learning to happen…for all involved.
I think Nutty’s point about charity is so, so valuable. Those who struggle and question and feel out of place desperately want to feel as though they DO belong and ARE loved. But those who may not be able to relate to those struggles first-hand also don’t want to be made out to be the enemy, or lumped in with the people who have truly mistreated you (as that sometimes clearly happens). Insecurity can run deep for everyone…and no one likes to feel attacked or unappreciated or misjudged or misunderstood. If we all have a prayer: “Heavenly Father, please help me see this person as thou dost see him/her” then maybe we could all work past the walls that sometimes exist. And also, “Help me to feel THY love, so when people goof and hurt me, that I won’t close up and give up and I can continue to try to bridge these gaps I feel.”
I love Janet’s idea that we are asked to bear one another’s burdens, and that, of course, includes the burden of doubt. We are also asked to come together in unity and love, and that can best be accomplished by 1) seeing each other as whole people, and not just a bundle of beliefs or behaviors that we may know about or see (because that is sooooo limited) and 2) sharing our common beliefs with each other so we can build on our commonalities instead of defining ourselves by our differences. I have this strange belief that if we ALL stick with each other long enough and try to do that old missionary “build on common beliefs” thing, that we might find that there is much that can bring us together in a spirit of love, with more unity, and then those things that might be different won’t feel so threatening. And we can ALL start to open up to each other even more. We are funny creatures — all of us — when we feel threatened or insecure in any way. We kick into fight-or-flight mode (I’ve seriously been thinking about a post along these lines, actually). And there are things ALL of us can do, IMO, to help create a place where all can feel safe opening our hearts to each other. This requires risk and also a lot of patience and love as people will goof and let us down along the way…but not everyone will if we stick with it!!
I also think this requires building relationships outside of the three-hour block, which isn’t always easy, but can really help with relationships of trust and all of that….
Sorry, long response. Thanks again, Janet for a deeply insightful post.
Comment by m&m — February 21, 2007 @ 1:32 am
I’ve wrestled with these questions so often: when is it better to speak up about concerns, and risk–as Mary Ann mentioned–hijacking church meetings with my own issues, which is something I genuinely don’t want to do, and when is it better to stay silent, which comes with its own cost? That’s something I feel like I’m continually negotiating. I have noticed what a difference it can make, though, when I do decide to make a comment sharing a little more of myself and I feel heard (even if just by one other person); in such situations I’m much less likely to leave church feeling frustrated and alienated. But there are times when I just don’t feel like I have the energy to do that; and as I suppose nearly goes without saying, there are wards in which it’s much, much harder.
I particularly like your #3. I wonder sometimes if I come across as less of a believer than I actually am because I have this bizarre hesitation when it comes to making statements of faith which feel tentative to me; I’m always afraid they’ll be heard as absolute assertions, and thus tend to avoid them altogether. But that’s a great suggestion that one can also use the language of hope in talking about belief.
I also appreciate m&m’s point about charity, about giving people the benefit of the doubt when they say things that might come across wrong. I don’t always do that, I know, and it’s a good reminder for me (particularly given that I’m certainly guilty of my own blunders!).
Comment by Lynnette — February 21, 2007 @ 3:14 am
To you bright minded thinkers, who’s minds explore the “next question,” that comes after learning a truth: You might want to consider the character of the congregation where you are. I’ve been a member of two wards recently that differ significantly in the brightness area.
My past ward was in New Mexico and filled with simple folk, strong in faith, but the majority were limited in education and curiosity, and there were several that had either overcome drug addiction or were closely related to those that had experienced such addiction. They would not have been able to help explore deep questions, and might have been spiritually hurt to have been challenged by them.
My present ward in Aiken, SC is filled with very bright and deeply knowledgable folk, who often discuss deeper meanings in their Gospel Doctrine class. A challenging question there will be met with very insightful and spiritual answers from several who have likely already resolved it for themselves.
The audience matters to. It isn’t the questions that are wrong, but maybe whom we ask to respond to them could be. Let us take our deeper questions to those who’s faith and study equip them to respond truthfully and with understanding.
Comment by Trueheart — February 21, 2007 @ 6:31 am
Trueheart,
This is an important point. And, along with that, I think we ought not underestimate what the Spirit can teach us even as we are engaging what seem to be “basic” doctrines. We don’t always have to be delving into deeper questions to get something out of church. Sometimes the more simple minded can help us see things differently through their simplicity, if we will be receptive.
Comment by m&m — February 21, 2007 @ 10:16 am
when is it better to speak up about concerns, and risk–as Mary Ann mentioned–hijacking church meetings with my own issues,
I wonder if hijacking is the right term, especially if you approach your issues with a spirit of, “this is a question/concern that I have” == opening up for help and input from others. I know that is easier said than done (not wanting to interrupt the flow of a lesson), but I remember one time a sister in our ward (dying of cancer) asking some really heart-rending questions. It changed the dynamic of the lesson to be sure (and I’m not sure people really understood what she was really getting at)…but that in and of itself caused me to seek her out and talk with her one-on-one. My heart was MORE open to her because she had opened her heart. I think so much depends on how one goes about sharing concerns. Are they expressed as angry doubt, even attacks, or are they approached as honest questions and struggles with a plea for love and help?
Comment by m&m — February 21, 2007 @ 10:22 am
Trueheart, your concerns about rhetorical appropriateness are well-framed and I’m very glad you said what you did. I agree with M&M, though, that being true to one’s desire to “get more” out of church isn’t inherently linked to deep doctrinal discussion–at least not the kind that throws around polysyllabics, Greek etymologies or whatever (though I like that stuff). Rather, we can simply frame old stories in a new light, asking questions which require more than a yes or no answer, etc. Delving into stuff which gets labeled “deep” can serve as a sad substitute for examinations of what might constitute charity in daily life, for example. Questions like N.O. asks in her “I’m a Mormon” thread aren’t “deep” in the intellectual sense, but they get at the deep, deep heart of Christian life. How do I treat my neighbors and embrace and love them without reducing them to a label? Or keep them from doing the same to me? Those are questions any congregation can entertain–and are obligated to entertain, I think.
Most important and central to what I’m getting at with the whole liminality thing: we can share our experiences and authenticity as they relate to the gospel. That’s what can change us into cohered and growing community. I used to live in a ward that was about half grad students/half folks who hadn’t gone past high school, and one of the ward’s many strengths came from members’ willingness to share their lives and concerns with each other, regardless of a resemblance to “stereotypical LDS problems.” (Which I’m not sure really exist anymore than stereotypical Mormons do, really.) Transformation has a lot more to do with honesty than with big words, yes? The Woman at the Well wasn’t a scholar
Comment by Janet — February 21, 2007 @ 11:56 am
Most important and central to what I’m getting at with the whole liminality thing: we can share our experiences and authenticity as they relate to the gospel. That’s what can change us into cohered and growing community.
Yes…this is what I was trying to get at too.
I have a friend who is trying to encourage me to be more honest at church with my struggles and it’s been a good experience…opening up a bit, admitting I struggle, rather than putting on a front of “all’s well in my life.” It has a power all its own.
Comment by m&m — February 21, 2007 @ 3:00 pm
m&m (re #32), I really appreciate that point about how the way in which you frame things can make a huge difference; I’ve found that to be true as well. I saw something similar to your story take place in my own RS not long ago, when at the beginning of the lesson, someone asked a personal, heartfelt question about a situation that was causing her a lot of pain, and a thoughtful discussion ensued. It wasn’t what the teacher had scripted, but fortunately she was flexibile enough to go along with it rather than imposing her pre-planned outline, and I (and I think many others) greatly appreciated the experiences that ended up being shared as a result.
Yet there’s something else I’m trying to figure out, and I honestly don’t know what I think about this. What’s the best course of action when you are so mad or so hurt by something related to the Church that you really can’t talk about it without sounding bitter in a way that’s likely to alienate people on the one hand, or emotionally breaking down on the other? For a long time I could not talk about my own feminist concerns without sobbing, which meant that I either said nothing, or I said bitingly sarcastic things that made people understandably wary of me. I don’t think ranting and raving is terribly appropriate for church (that’s why we have the bloggernacle, after all. ;)) But what do you do when you’re in that place, when you can’t bring up a concern in a constructive way because you’re simply not in an emotional state to strike the right tone–but constantly feeling like you have to self-censor is only making things worse? I’ve noticed that people who find themselves in such a place seem to often simply quit going to church.
Comment by Lynnette — February 21, 2007 @ 4:03 pm
Lynnette, you’ve hit on how I feel a lot of times. I’m still dealing with anger and deep hurt, and I don’t know how to bring them up without being obvious about those two things.
Janet, I think you’ve hit on something really interesting, although my own reservations are similar to Lynnette’s as I said above. Also, I remember reading JohnR’s post about renegotiating faith and marriage–it wasn’t really a pretty picture when he first voiced his beliefs to his wife. My Dad has suffered for the last twenty something years for expressing doubts to my mom–so much so that I’m afraid to tell her about my doubts now. I’ve seen friends get the shaft at church for their mentioning doubt. If we are afraid to be this vulnerable in our marriages, how are we supposed to be this vulnerable in front of a congregation of people that we don’t even know? I’m not saying anyone should stand up in Sunday School and say they don’t believe in God anymore, but I’m also wondering how safe it really is to even stand up and say that one is having issues. Anyway, I guess it does depend on the people. As I said, you couldn’t do that safely in a ward where my mom attended–she would be sure to talk about you behind your back or say something patronizing to your face. Any ideas for how to sound the room out before one goes into out right honesty mode? How can one tell if it’s safe, you know?
Comment by Lessie — February 21, 2007 @ 5:13 pm
But what do you do when you’re in that place, when you can’t bring up a concern in a constructive way because you’re simply not in an emotional state to strike the right tone–but constantly feeling like you have to self-censor is only making things worse? I’ve noticed that people who find themselves in such a place seem to often simply quit going to church.
Lynnette, that is a difficult place to be…and while I can’t pretend to have answers, one thought that comes to mind is to pray for a friend…a one-on-one situation, where perhaps some of that pain can be discussed in a known safe place. I realize this is also part of the reason that people come to the ‘nacle, but I think that the real, live personal contact would be even better, with someone in one’s congregation if possible. There’s something about knowing that someone at church knows more than what appears at the surface that helps…someone who can put an arm around you and ask how you REALLY are, and with whom you can be honest. Although I don’t understand perhaps anger and frustration with feminism, I do have my own private, painful crosses that only a handful of people know about. Once in a while, I have felt inspired to open up my heart to a friend or two (once this involved calling a friend completely out of the blue), and that has made A HUGE difference in not feeling like i “have to pretend” all of the time…because there are times when the weight is too much for me to bear without some comfort and support from someone around me.
Anyway, just a thought… I do agree that not all issues are really going to be easily addressed in a church meeting like SS or RS, but I don’t think that means that there aren’t individuals who could care. I think the Spirit can help us know where safe places/relationships might be in our wards/branches, but we may have to be the ones to search for that safe place. People aren’t always so good at mind-reading or knowing how to reach out or ask hard questions….sometimes we have to take the reins to get a process started where we can be more open and honest…at least it’s been that way for me. I’ve only really been disappointed when I have waited for someone to catch on that things weren’t quite right, so I’m learning that I need to take the initiative.
Comment by m&m — February 21, 2007 @ 5:43 pm
Lessie and Lynette–well, those are the big hard questions, yes? I’ve never stood up in RS during, say, the “happy news moment” when countless young women are announcing how blessed they are with pregnancy and how this shows God’s love for them and, you know, announced that clearly God doesn’t love me and my “happy news” is that I made it through another week without ODing on painkillers because I want a baby and don’t have one. Why? ‘Cuz whooooboy! How bitter did I just sound? And how defensive would all those prego women feel? And since we don’t have the continual intimacy of marriage, what are the chances they’d want to negotiate my journey with me?
I bring up the infertility example because Lessie knows I’m really not at all angry at fertile women or babies (seeing as how I glommed right onto her adorable little guy at the Idahosnacker). My vent wouldn’t really be representative of me, entirely–just how I felt at that pissed-off moment.
Which doesn’t really answer your questions. I have no hard and fast answers other than there’s virtue in the trying (including trying to be honest without submitting the congregation to a deathray of pain). Deathrays of pain, though, have a place. Church isn’t just SM, RS, and GD. It’s enrichment meetings and ward socials and VTing and any number of interactions which can foster more intimate exchanges. I HAVE bitched, moaned, cried, cursed, etc. to a couple of my best church friends and consider the communion we’ve shared a part of my church experience. The gospel community extends outside the walls of the building, yes? I’ve even had extremely frank conversations with my bishop on the subject and it turns out he has a daughter who is both infertile and suffering from autoimmune disease, just like me. I sat in his kitchen with his wife and we had a long chat about the wilderness God sometimes requires. I feel incredibly connected to him now (he’s a good guy and I liked him anyhow, but his willingness to say “I don’t know–it’s hard” makes me like him even more).
Comment by Janet — February 21, 2007 @ 7:57 pm
Also, Lessie’s mention of JohnR’s marriage post reminded me of something that happened in my old Stake. There was a HUGE blow-up between our ward and the stake regarding race. I lived in the inner-city and thus more diverse ward; most of the stake was white. A GD period run by the visiting Stake Presidency (who–inadvertently, I think–sounded as though they were defending an incredibly racist statement uttered at Stake Conference) turned to actual shouts. Finger-pointing. Weeping. And, as you might imagine, ended early. The Stake Presidency fled. (I actually loved the guys and think they had no real idea what they’d wandered into nor how their presentation looked in our particular context, but that’s another story.)
But, for all the weeping and shouting and even, uh, swearing, there were also several people who spoke of how healing requires something more than a band-aid over deep, deep wounds. The rest of the three-hour block consisted of groups of people clustered about, hugging, and TALKING about what had happened. Laying all the rage and pain on the table. Old white people raised in the south admitting they’d though stupid things about other races almost all their lives. Young black people admitting how Herculian of a task baptism had been into this church with its past. Honesty. Making peace. Pain, and solace.
It was a hard and hurtful Sunday, and our ward was better for it in the end, I think. It had fallout–some good, some bad–but it also had the first outright communication about an issue that had been cankering church for months. I wouldn’t want such a thing to happen often, but sometimes, it can be OK. God’s pretty cool about how He can interject grace even into and through rage and pain and misunderstanding.
Comment by Janet — February 21, 2007 @ 8:10 pm
Thanks for the timely topic and opportunity to comment.
The life of “fringe-folk” as I see it:
. For the most part, these are people with an active interest in
learning (not just troublemakers).
. They go to church feeling forced into discounting (hopefully
with charity) things spoken there and “testified” to as being
“true”, which they know are not.
. Many (most?) feel forced to use pseudonyms on web sites where
they express themselves because they are well aware of what could
happen if they used their real name. (What does that say about
the church?)
Whose church is it? If one is Christian, Jesus is the head.
Jesus offers salvation (or not) according to his own rules, not
those manufactured by men. IMHO it is the doctrine of men that
makes religion burdensome, not the Savior.
How to make more fringe-folk out of otherwise unquestioning
members: Put a bit in the mouth of members and create more rules
they are required to follow–or no temple recommend! IMO, this
type of stuff is extortion practiced in the name of God.
Do all the flowers in Jesus’ garden look the same? I don’t
think so–-but the church demands uniformity in trivia. For
instance, all males must be clean shaven in order to serve in
many capacities, and must wear white shirts only (no colored
allowed!). A young “teacher” was told he did not respect his
calling (offering the sacrament prayer) because of his “facial
hair”, and two High Priests in one ward were coerced into
removing their (adult)-life long facial hair if they expected to
serve as Stake High Counselors (as is also required of temple
workers). Choose between one’s facial hair, and serving God (who
is pictured in the temple with a full beard)! Does this sound
like God’s will, or that of men?
IMO the increasing demands made on Mormons by their “leaders”
is a big part of what causes fringe-folk and drop-out numbers to
increase daily.
Comment by Rosetta — February 22, 2007 @ 4:06 pm
Janet, one of the things I love about the way you blog is that you focus on the ways that people are connected, not divided. That is very refreshing in these times. Keep it up.
Comment by Idahospud — February 28, 2007 @ 1:01 am