Let Me Entertain You - or - Style vs. Substance
Women Who Know are – -
No, I’m totally kidding. Not gonna go there. Not on my first post at least.
Lisa asked me to try my hand at guest posting. I’ve been lurking and occasionally participating around the bloggernacle and FMH for about three or four years. I have a little blog (whoopee - who doesn’t?!) and I’m both a Feminist Mormon Housewife and a work at home mom. I even posted my day in the life back when that series was still going on.
Um, one thing… This post really isn’t about feminism. (Oh, man, Lisa is so going to take away my login. Er, sorry Lisa.) I saw the opportunity to discuss something I’ve been bothered about for quite a while, and took it. But it’s about mormons! And - I’m a part-time housewife! Sort of!
Once upon a time, back before I ever lost (and regained) my testimony, our poor misguided bishop called me to be the gospel doctrine teacher in our ward. When he called me, I figured he must be insane or delayed in some way and I made sure to speak very slowly and clearly as I delineated all the reasons why I should not be the gospel doctrine teacher.
- Despite being a life long member, I knew almost nothing about gospel doctrine.
- I thought Sunday School was just that boring hour you had to sleep through in order to get to Relief Society, where at least there were often cookies
- You had to actually, read scriptures and stuff like that, and I’d barely read the Book of Mormon the whole way through. There were whole books that I’d always skipped. I figured they were so short there wasn’t likely to be anything really important in them.
- You weren’t supposed to deviate from the manual, and as someone prone to going off on incredibly strange tangents and losing my train of thought and telling completely off the subject stories, I knew this would be a challenge for me.
The bishop listened and nodded and told me he’d prayed about it and was sure I was supposed to do it. We had a little staring contest then. I looked at him skeptically and he gazed back with that ultra sincere, ultra spiritual, ultra knowing bishop gaze. I stared back. He stared back some more until I finally gave up. (Stupid bishop super powers.) I sighed and shrugged, said I’d do my best, and later that night, contemplated putting the house up for sale.
Don’t get me wrong, I love to speak in front of a crowd. I’ve always been a huge show-off, and it was like a really great dream – I’d get to be up in front! Every week! Leading the discussion! Sharing my brilliance! (Even though, my brilliance was extremely, extremely, extremely limited.) (Extremely.) How exciting for the people in the ward! They were so lucky to have me!
Then they gave me the Teaching By The Spirit manual (or whatever it used to be called). I read through it and panicked, suddenly realizing that – uh oh, it really wasn’t supposed to be about me. It wasn’t supposed to be the Sue show. It was supposed to be about the Spirit. Hmmmm….
I started praying. I started thinking about how I could help to bring the spirit in. I followed the counsel in the manual and really prayerfully put together my lessons. That first Sunday, I fasted, prayed, and during my lesson, spoke earnestly and sincerely, following the manual, trying to encourage discussion, trying to make sure the spirit was present in the room during the lesson. I think I may have unwittingly adopted a general conference accent. I know I wore a one piece dress with lace and buttons on the front, along with very sensible pumps and nylons.
I was quite possibly the most horribly dull gospel doctrine teacher the ward had ever endured. I didn’t realize this at first. I thought that when people closed their eyes, it was because they were praying, or feeling the spirit, or overcome with emotion. The little dribble of drool escaping from the corner of the mouth of the ward mission leader should have tipped me off. People suddenly became incredibly interested in the Family History Sunday School class, or the Gospel Essentials class, or anything that would GET THEM THE HECK OUT OF THE CLASSROOM. I was so incredibly boring that even my best friends took to hiding in the kitchen to chat during my lessons. I would ask them during Relief Society where they had been and they would say, “Oh, the baby was fussy,” but they wouldn’t look me in the eye when they said it.
I thought this was incredibly unfair. After all, left to my own purposes I would have been somewhat entertaining and engaging. I was only being boring because I was trying to do what was right. I was being reverent, dang it. My rep was getting sullied because of my EXTREME RIGHTEOUSNESS. I wanted to quit. I asked to quit. I cried in the bishop’s office and made harassing phone calls to the Sunday School President begging them to let me out of the calling.
They left me in for another year. (I loved that bishop to pieces, really I did, but he was one sadistic man. I suppose he thought I was learning something. Or the ward was. Or he had a twisted sense of humor. Or something.) Once they finally released me they stuck me in the nursery where the worst damage I could do was to put a bunch of two year olds to sleep.
Two years later, in a new ward, I was called to be the Teachings for our Times instructor in Relief Society. I was excited about the calling. My testimony was scraping along the bottom of the proverbial barrel at the time, but I felt sure it was something I could do, because most lessons contained things that I could definitely agree with, things that I could get on board with. And I was not going to make the same mistake twice. I was determined to have the BEST class, the most interesting, engaging, fantastic TOFT class that any ward had ever seen, EVER.
I KILLED as a TFOT teacher. I entertained, I told jokes, I brought treats, we sang songs… I practically tap danced in front of the group each month - anything to entertain, to wow the crowd. I was a master at getting the group participating in lively and edifying discussions. I could make people cry at the drop of a hat. It was like half an hour of stand-up comedy, interspersed with comments and discussion from the crowd. After every lesson, I’d have a crowd of people surrounding me, telling me it was such a great lesson, they loved it so much, I was such a great teacher. I spoke in church, because I was “such a great speaker,” and people ate that up with a spoon too. They felt the spirit, they were touched, they loved what I had to say.
The problem was it was completely and totally manipulative. It was all about wanting them to like me, and had almost nothing to do with wanting them to feel the spirit. I felt like a fraud. I hated when people told me they felt the spirit. I didn’t understand this, because if there was one thing I was fairly sure of, it was that I didn’t have the spirit with me, or at least I couldn’t feel it much at all.
I felt dishonest - a huge lying liar who lies. I was really struggling with what I believed, with getting answers to my prayers, with figuring out what was true and what was not, and I did not understand how, every week, all of these good people, these righteous people, were completely fooled by my little act. How could they feel the spirit when I couldn’t feel it? Were they being led astray? I was teaching good things, I was teaching the lessons, I was telling them the right things. I was just – also spiritually bankrupt. Did it matter? Was the Spirit working through me anyway?
I know there is a happy medium between the two extremes, that you can have teachers who are both engaging AND spiritual. But now, when I hear people say, “This speaker was so great, I really felt the Spirit,” I always wonder. Did they? Is it cult of personality? Is it the Spirit? Is it a little of both? How can you tell the difference between emotion and spirituality? Can you? How can we be sure we are being touched by the Spirit and not being affected by personal charisma or a powerful turn of phrase? Does it matter? If the fruits are good, does it matter if they’ve fallen from a spiritually crippled tree?
You can use your talents as a speaker/teacher and still teach with the Spirit. In fact, I think using our talents is pretty blasted necessary to be effective. God gave them to us, we might as well use them in His service.
When you were teaching but not feeling the Spirit, is it possible you could have been depressed? I’ve found (through years of dealing with depression) that when I’m depressed it is very hard for me to feel the Spirit (once I go back to counseling, get some meds, get things straightened out, I’m able to tune in again). Though you can’t feel the Spirit, others around you can.
If that’s not the case, you do make a point about Mormons responding to emotionalism. It drives me crazy, too, personally. I can’t stand those drippy songs people get up and sing in church or the awful poems. I always end up counting grammatical errors and feeling resentful that someone tried to manipulate me with that crap.
Comment by AYW — November 19, 2007 @ 3:24 am
Nobody is feeling the spirit if they’re sleeping or in the kitchen, but they MIGHT be feeling the spirit if they’re in class.
I’ve often been uncomfortable with feeling like sometimes we encourage theatrics to invite the spirit. For example, as a missionary, I was coached on exactly how to recite the JS-H version of the first vision, and given explicit directions on how quickly to say it, where and when to pause while speaking, what volume to speak it, etc. I think there are too many factors involved with determining who will feel the spirit at what point during the lesson.
As a former Gospel Essentials teacher, I decided to teach it my way, and if they didn’t like it, they could release me.
Comment by rc — November 19, 2007 @ 4:30 am
I should clarify: I say “Mormons responding to emotionalism.” I should say that people in general respond to emotionalism–it isn’t something that only Mormons do.
Comment by AYW — November 19, 2007 @ 8:24 am
“We had a little staring contest then. I looked at him skeptically and he gazed back with that ultra sincere, ultra spiritual, ultra knowing bishop gaze. I stared back. He stared back some more until I finally gave up. (Stupid bishop super powers.)”
That is so funny. I have nothing substantive to add to your post, even tho I think your question is great, but I just wanted to say that.
Comment by Julie M. Smith — November 19, 2007 @ 8:37 am
I had a religion teacher at BYU who took it upon himself to teach us when to pause, breathe, emphasize, etc during prayers. One guy stood up in class, announced the only audience he prayed to was Heavenly Father, and that he was dropping the class. Right then, I felt the spirit, while the “teacher” sputtered.
I didn’t drop the class because it was too late to add one and I had to stay full time for my scholarship. I never felt right with that choice.
We recognise voices we hear often, including the spirit. When I’m not sure if something is the spirit I dive into the topical guide and find scriptures to support or disprove whatever I heard. Often my compulsive searches last days and lead to the real spiritual payoff for me. If I seek and feel the spirit most days then I recognise it, and/or the lack of it, more surely on Sunday.
Comment by another sister — November 19, 2007 @ 8:49 am
Really, this all comes down to the question, “How do you recognize the Spirit?” the answer to which is one of the most important if not the most important in our lives. It’s a life-long persuit. We should be working more diligently to find this answer (which is different for every person) than to find who ordered the Mountain Meadows Massacre or whether Bruce R. McConkie was a racist (or whatever). I believe that more good can be done with this knowledge than any other knowledge we can attain.
Comment by Rusty — November 19, 2007 @ 9:56 am
I always felt that my failure as a teacher had to be my lack of the spirit. Now I see it was just that I was boring. Of course, I was teaching five-year-olds. They probably didn’t get most of the jokes.
Something that has always bothered me is when people say something akin to “The spirit in this room is so strong.” Ummm…okay. I always thought the spirit was something you felt inside yourself, not something in the atmosphere, like humidity.
Of course, if the spirit is something you feel inside yourself, it makes sense that one person will be overcome by the spirit while another person (me, usually) doesn’t feel it at all. It also makes sense that people would feel the spirit during your classes or talks even if you didn’t–because whatever you were saying, it rang true for them and was inspiring for them. As for how to tell the difference between feeling the spirit and responding to a personality, I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter as much as we think it does?
I also found this post very entertaining. (The bishop superpowers line was especially funny.) Hey, I think I just felt the spirit! (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
Comment by madhousewife — November 19, 2007 @ 11:17 am
Sue-
You said you led lively disucssions. Discussions are pretty good places to feel the spirit, even if you think it’s just chit-chat. The spirit isn’t always reverent. It’s also something that inspires learning and teaches truth and gets people thinking, and you can feel the spirit in a lively discussion just as much as you can in a quiet meditative state. It’s different, perhaps, but I think the Spirit communicates in a variety of ways, in a variety of places.
I happen to love Relief Society, and sometimes I just feel peace from being around sisters who love the gospel, regardless of what is being taught, boring or otherwise. It sounds like the sisters also responded to your love for them, and your obvious love for the calling (which HAS to be a bit theatrical–after all, you’re up in front of everybody), and that can mean a lot.
I also think the answer to the question, “Was the Spirit working through me anyways?” is an obvious yes. YOU are not responsible for somebody else’s spiritual experience. Consider the flip side of your situation–don’t you think there has been a time when you DID feel the spirit as you taught, but somebody else just didn’t get it?
Great post.
Comment by Heather O. — November 19, 2007 @ 11:22 am
What was that bit about borrowing your husband’s keys that showed up on my aggregator, but now is gone? I was kind of interested and it left me hanging.
I’ll have to remember that one about “stupid bishop super-powers.”
Comment by Seth R. — November 19, 2007 @ 11:52 am
Seth, don’t remind me. I copied over my post from a Word doc, forgetting that I had a bunch of totally random stuff way down at the bottom and I hit publish. I edited it in the post itself, but too late - and off it went to anyone who reads in an aggregator. How embarrassing. Please just - pretend that wasn’t there. Pretty please.
Arg.
Comment by Sue — November 19, 2007 @ 11:59 am
The Spirit comes when the listener feels it. I was feeling pretty miserable yesterday, and even though the speakers were good friends, i was struggling to stay awake. Then one of them read a quote that spoke directly to my soul. It was something I needed to hear, and something I wanted to hear. Hearing that simple quote gave me the strength to go on in what was otherwise a miserable day.
Did my friend know I needed to hear that quote? I don’t think so, but the Lord did, and so my friend was inspired to add that to his talk. You never know when the Spirit is going to speak to someone whether you are being boring and reverent or entertaining and putting on a show.
Comment by CS Eric — November 19, 2007 @ 12:10 pm
That whole second-to-last paragraph happened to me a few months ago when I was asked to speak in SM right before we moved out. I sat down on Saturday night and wrote the talk start to finish, without even using scriptures. I didn’t want to let on that I was having problems, but I also didn’t want to say anything I didn’t believe. In the end, throngs of people told me how much they loved it. I felt like such a fraud.
On the other hand, as a current bottom-of-the-barrel scraper, it is heartening to know that it’s possible to come back up from the depths.
Comment by sarah k. — November 19, 2007 @ 12:27 pm
Where did you hear this? RIght in the front of the GD manual it says,
I see the manual as a tool, and while I do focus on the assigned topic and scriptures, I don’t feel confined to it. I think that the needs of class members are the most important thing. I have a lot of failings as a GD teacher, but I do consistently pray to meet the needs of the class. I am conservative about what additional sources I use, but I regularly bring in my ipod with a quote from a more-recent general conference talk than given in the manual, and I think anything from the Ensign is okay, as is Teachings of JS. I hesitate a bit before using a BYU address or BH Roberts, but occasionally use such things, if it really seems to fit (maybe twice a year).
The GD class I teach is the nearly-deads class in a newly-weds-and-nearly-deads ward in a college town. It’s very humbling, because in the class I have three current or former stake patriarchs, and more past bishops than I can count.
They have a need NOT to be bored by hearing the same old things over and over. They know the gospel far better than I. I don’t entertain the class–I’m not that clever or charming. I do, however, spend about six hours preparing each lesson so that I can go wherever the class wants to go, and I do try to seek the Spirit and sometimes just know what to say.
Yesterday, talking about James, someone observed that James speaks in a positive way, much more like Christ than Paul’s harangues. I agreed, and suggested we do a comparison between the sermon on the mount and James–the language is stunningly similar and we looked at 5 or so examples. (This was courtesy of the folks at Feast Upon the Word blog–thanks!)
That wasn’t entertaining, but I hope it was interesting.
One time that I felt the Spirit strongly was when we were studying about the woman who touched the Savior’s hem, and one brother observed that anyone in the crowd could have had a miracle worked for them, if they had exhibited similar faith. I said that I couldn’t quite agree, because in the Bible Dictionary entry under miracles, there were actually three requirements, and one was need. This woman had a clear need; we don’t know if others in the crowd had similar needs. He kinda nodded at the correction. It was a visiting high councilor, and I felt a bit badly about criticizing his comment, but I felt strongly that it should be said (and my goal recently has been to say what I feel should be said).
A goodly percentage of my class does read the lesson each week, and in fact when I taught Proverbs and Psalms, I just did a brief introduction, then let them share their favorites.
So I think there are alternative approaches other than being boring and being entertaining. For me, the key has been focussing on the needs of class members. I don’t think of myself as performing, but rather facilitating their growth.
Comment by Naismith — November 19, 2007 @ 12:49 pm
I’ve been told this also from a RS leader when I was a RS teacher, and recently by the SS Pres when I was called as Gospel Principles teacher.
Having said that however, I totally agree with this:
Comment by Rebecca — November 19, 2007 @ 12:57 pm
I have always been a “fraud” (it’s the real me!) with my demonstrative, extremest, drama saturated style of being a “Mormon”.
I know I’d be much better of being a Southern Baptist. (behavioral wise)
I don’t know if there is a man leader right now that could have any powers over me. (i’d win the stare down)
I think I’m too old and seasoned to even go there.
No more illusions or fantasies about the ways of the tribe of Mormonism.
I am a triangle trying to fit into a circle. I just kind of accept it now and do the best I can. It’s the man thing. I just think they are more of a fraud than any feminist Mormon woman.
Comment by pjb — November 19, 2007 @ 1:03 pm
Naismith, yes, you are right - there are many, many alternatives to being boring or putting on a show - I just happened to end up working at both of the two extreme ends of the spectrum. I’m surprised by what you indicated about the manual. I’m pretty sure that, at least when I was teaching, we were strongly, strongly encouraged not to use outside materials or sources, other than the Ensign. (I have no proof of this whatsoever though.)
Eric, the sad thing is that this: “I don’t think so, but the Lord did, and so my friend was inspired to add that to his talk” - would not have happened, since I wasn’t in tune. I wonder if it was ethical to accept that calling knowing that my testimony was in shambles, and knowing that I wouldn’t be able to receive or act on anything like that.
Although frankly, I still really struggle with that anyway. I’m not sure I will ever be in a place where I can, on-the-fly recognize inspiration and act on it. I have a hard time knowing when something is a prompting and when it’s just, uh, the voices in my head.
But I guess in a lesson situation it wouldn’t matter if it was coming from me or from somewhere else, as long as I had the thought. I guess that’s the point. Right?
Comment by Sue — November 19, 2007 @ 1:06 pm
I so relate to this post. Oh the curse of having a glib tongue and compelling stage presence.
I don’t know how to say what I mean to say on this subject if you will stick with me while I ramble a bit. I remember distinctly the first time I bore my testimony and had the congregation rapt, and the reactions, the people even months later would comment on the power of my testimony. At the time I was still had my giddy innocent youthful testimony (see becky’s post today), and I too thought that I had experienced something powerful. And well, I had. But as I grew up it was confusing to learn that i could manipulate this ability, that it wasn’t just the spirit of the Lord speaking through me but that I could willfully manipulate this gift of gab anytime I choose, and that people would react much the same way even when I was just being manipulative.
I guess like you, it made me doubt every spiritual experience, because if I could manipulate these people this way, when I wasn’t feeling it, then did any of those spiritual experiences mean anything or was it all just a big manipulation?
Okay this is a really bad place to stop, but I really have to go, I’ll finish when I get back.
Comment by fMhLisa — November 19, 2007 @ 1:28 pm
Whenever I’m bored in class I always think about that talk President Eyring gave about how if we’re bored in church it’s our own darn fault and that if our attitude is right, we can always come away with something, even if it’s our own independent scripture study.
So ultimately, the responsibility for feeling the spirit or not rests on each of us. Of course, in my own experience, I have a much better chance of having a better attitude if someone can keep me awake.
As far as whether or not the spirit can work through a weak vessel, the answer is absolutely yes. I was once in a position where I desperately needed a blessing, and the only person around was someone who I very strongly suspected (accurately, it turned out) of being completely unworthy. But, as I said, I was desperate and I had him give me a blessing. It turned out to be one of the most exquisite and profound blessings of my life and I don’t believe for a moment it had anything to do with him. I always hear that you should use a priesthood holder you feel comfortable with, not your bishop or stake president because you think their priesthood is more powerful. The power rests in the strength of faith in the receiver.
I think the same is true of all manifestations, but some people don’t know how to recognize it unless they’re crying. Or laughing. Or anything but asleep.
Comment by reese — November 19, 2007 @ 1:37 pm
I think that it is possible to really like a lesson and FEEL GOOD about it and it isn’t necessarily the Spirit. I don’t think you have to “feel the Spirit” every time to have it be a good lesson. I like entertaining lessons, probably more than the crying the whole time lessons. I feel the spirit when I get excited about something. I taught RS for a while and I rarely cried, they rarely cried. We laughed a lot. And I really tend to get giddy over a topic or an idea. The Spirit can be there threw laughing and singing or even joking. It doesn’t always have to be serious. I think that sometimes people get confused while bearing their testimonies or teaching that if they don’t cry or get emotional, that people won’t think that they are serious. Now, the Spirit can hit emotion and we can cry, but I have felt the Spirit many times, if not more so, from someone that isn’t just dead serious and crying.
Comment by Britt — November 19, 2007 @ 1:48 pm
This is a very important topic to me, and I have struggled with it as well. I am currently an EQ instructor and an SS teacher and have held many many teaching callings (including missionary) and I’m also a lawyer by profession. I have learned through sad experience that there is a huge difference between being an entertaining (and even persuasive and compelling) teacher or speaker and having the spirit. I have learned, though only recently, to tell the difference. Many people don’t know. Some will never know.
This is not to say that having the spirit means that you have to be boring or deadly serious. You are called to a particular job in the church for a reason. Part of magnifying your calling means using your God-given talents in the service of the Lord. But using your talents alone, though important, doesn’t get you the spirit. In my experience, the spirit is critical to real gospel teaching and comes only when you diligently seek it. It requires prayer, fasting, contemplation, more prayer and some measure of personal righteousness (and I’m not suggesting I have got that last part down).
Those who know the difference in your classes will always be able to tell the difference. So will you. Those who praise you and say they felt the spirit when you didn’t prepare properly and didn’t seek it were probably those who can be fooled by an entertaining presentation. The fact that you can fool some of the people some of the time doesn’t mean you should. But that also doesn’t mean you should turn down that calling. The things you learn from your calling generally far outweigh the things you teach.
Comment by MCQ — November 19, 2007 @ 3:16 pm
I don’t think you have to be in a good place, spiritually, to be a conduit for someone else to feel the spirit. I recieved a priesthood blessings from a man who was absolutely not worthy of the priesthood he held - but the blessing still worked. I’ve had Sacrament blessed by men who were absolutely not worthy to bless it - but the Sacrament was still sacred. The Lord doesn’t punish the reciever because the giver is struggling.
At the same time, I think sometimes it’s just something people say. I can remember more than one Sunday where my dad, upon suddenly awakening (usually because one of us poked him in the side so we could get out of the pew and go to class), said, “What a great meeting! I really felt the spirit!” To which we’d reply (because we are all a bunch of smart-a@@es), “Yeah? Good, spiritual, uplifting dreams huh?”
Comment by Quimby — November 19, 2007 @ 3:52 pm
Obviously I was not there but is it possible when you were told “don’t deviate from the book” that it was in regards of the subject and not “just use the book and do what the book says”?
Comment by Peter — November 19, 2007 @ 5:08 pm
An institute teacher of mine gave a lesson once on emotions, the Spirit, and the mind. He said that our physical emotions were feelings in our bowels… like tingly feelings, etc. He said that the Spirit speaks to our mind AND our hearts… and often does not produce any physical emotion at all but that emotionalism and theatrics can easily produce great feelings of emotion in our bowels without necessarily being the Spirit. Sometimes the Spirit is just a quiet understanding in our mind and peace in our hearts… everything else is usually just emotions.
Comment by Stephanie — November 19, 2007 @ 7:23 pm
Here is my opinion, the spirit is often about the receiver and not about the giver. The Holy Spirit speaks to the heart who is willing to hear. Why did seeing ANGELS for heaven’s sake not convert Nephi’s brothers? Their hearts were not willing to hear the words. So when people say they felt the Spirit, they did, the Spirit did speak to them. Whether or not you spoke WITH the Spirit??? Not sure, but I know you are way too hard on yourself, so I have a feeling the Spirit was present in your willingness, your obedience, and your love.
Comment by Jo in Utah — November 19, 2007 @ 8:02 pm
Peter, sure, that’s possible. Like I said, I’m not in any way trying to say that what I did was a) required or b) ideal. It was just - what I did at the time.
See, I don’t understand this. I would love for that to be true, but I wonder if it is. I thought the priesthood holder had to be worthy. If it doesn’t matter, why bother with the priesthood at all - if God can work through anything/anyone - if the faith of the receiver is what matters, why do we put so much emphasis on the importance of a worthy priesthood holder?
Comment by Sue — November 19, 2007 @ 8:26 pm
Lisa, yes, EXACTLY.
Comment by Sue — November 19, 2007 @ 8:27 pm
Er, I mean, that is exactly what I’ve struggled with.
Comment by Sue — November 19, 2007 @ 8:28 pm
Sue, I don’t know that it is the faith of the reciever. I recieved this blessing when I was 3, so it’s not like I was exceptionally faithful. I think it was a combination of things - certainly I credit my mother’s faith that our Heavenly Father would work through whoever they could find; certainly I credit my father for being worthy of his priesthood; and I believe that one of the spiritual gifts I’ve been given is the gift to be healed. I think when we do our best, our Heavenly Father makes up the difference. My father was worthy of his priesthood; he needed someone to annoint the oil; this neighbor was the only other person within an hour’s drive who held the priesthood. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could do, and somehow it worked. A skeptic would say I would’ve been fine anyway. Who knows? I have faith that it was the blessing that healed me, but what is faith if not a hope for something you can’t know?
Comment by Quimby — November 19, 2007 @ 8:38 pm
I can’t tell you how much I cna relate to this post…
I am an amazing teacher. When I talk in church I have tons of people fawn all over me. I make everyone laugh. I “give it to people straight,” and they all tell me how much they appreciate my honesty.
But the truth is I never prepare. I never pray. I end my talks and lessons with a testimony that I don’t really have. Sure, sometimes I speak from the heart. But more often I make up a bunch of crap and throw in some of the theory that I have learned in school, and wait for the compliments.
I’m like a monkey clapping the cymbals together, but I am just a fraud, too.
Even posting this, I worry that I am just doing it to be dramatic and tell my own story instead of respond to what has already been written. I don’t even know my own motivations sometimes.
Comment by Melissa — November 20, 2007 @ 1:24 am
My opininon? God doesn’t need us, we need Him. Being a worthy priesthood holder is for the person’s benefit, not God’s.
Comment by Jo in Utah — November 20, 2007 @ 6:45 am
Crap. Opinion, not opininon, duh.
Comment by Jo in Utah — November 20, 2007 @ 8:09 am
Sue, thankyou for this post.
I used to be that “fabulous” teacher/speaker that everyone congratulated and talked about. Now I wonder that what I thought was the spirit wasn’t the euphoria of successfully leading a class, and what they thought was the spirit wasn’t just a charismatic teaching style.
A few months ago I asked to be released from my (teaching related) calling, because I found that there was nothing in any of the manuals that I believed anymore.
Here is the thing- I still go to church though there is hardly ANYTHING that is said over the pulpit that resonates with me, or that I believe… BUT I STILL FEEL THE SPIRIT AT CHRUCH. Not all the time. Not every time. A lot of times church is just pure hell for me. But there are these little glimpses here and there.
there isn’t a moral to this comment… just an observation. having been on both sides.
Comment by G — November 20, 2007 @ 11:52 am
I start by tearing apart the manual. Sure that’s a great story, but what is it really trying to teach? I’m really not a fan of pretty stories, and I’ve been through the same Sunday School manuals so many times I’m close to screaming (and don’t know how those older than my cope at all). Then I pray and continue praying throughout the planning phase. Then, I dive into the scriptures. Once I find a good scriptural story to compare or contrast the manual story with, I stick within that general vicinity of that scripture story to find companion “hey let’s read and think about” scriptures. (I favor the “find all the inspiration we need in one place” technique rather than “jump all over canonized scripture cross-referencing” technique - though that one does have its merits as well.) Then I start formulating a lesson outline. Throughout the outline I mark actions for the class. What should they think about here? What should they talk about? What should be discussed? Should they underline? Look for keywords? Interpret symobolism? Consider personal application? Share a thought in a small group? Search for cross-references? etc etc etc. I then reiterate through the study and plan phase until I’m happy.
Finally, I get to the point ten minutes before class. I set up my chalk board. Push the table to a far corner (or better yet, fold up the silly thing). Set up any object lessons or pictures. Rearrange the chairs if necessary. Take a deep breath. Put my outline aside. Pull out my scriptures and the manual. Say a prayer. Take a deep breath. And start talking.
Explanation on the table: my experience has been that teachers who don’t stand behind the blankety blank table tend to be very boring compared to the teachers who move around and give my eyes something to follow. I like to get rid of the table just because in the rooms I’ve taught in it tends to be an obstacle between the class and the chalkboard.
Comment by Janell the Great — November 20, 2007 @ 2:22 pm
Oops. I didn’t reread that last paragraph before posting.
Rigid statue behind table = boring
Moving object = not sleep-inducing
Comment by Janell the Great — November 20, 2007 @ 2:23 pm
I really need to finish my thoughts here, but I haven’t managed to get them tidy yet.
I think it starts out with Jo’s thought, it is more about the receiver than the giver. But not too, more like it’s complicated depending on the receiver and the giver involved. Hum. I’m going to have to go vacuum and contemplate. My words are escaping me.
Comment by fMhLisa — November 20, 2007 @ 3:18 pm
“Oh the curse of having a glib tongue and compelling stage presence.” Thanks FMH Lisa
Comment by Azucar — November 20, 2007 @ 4:31 pm
“Oh the curse of having a glib tongue and compelling stage presence.” Thanks FMH Lisa
Sue, it will come as no surprise to you that I identified with this post entirely. I’ve always just thought that I had the talent to teach, not that I was showboating for the love of it, haha. Then again…
Comment by Azucar — November 20, 2007 @ 4:32 pm
A really honest and thought-provoking post, Sue. Thanks.
Melissa said,
I’ve both participated in and observed this dynamic, and although the charismatic teacher or speaker certainly bears responsibility for her end of it, I have to wonder too about the classroom or audience tendency to fawn. I wonder if we as listeners or class members were a little more cautious or measured in bestowing our accolades, a little more critical and skeptical without being uncharitable, if that wouldn’t help bring the whole hyperinflated blimp of personality back down to earth.
I’ve gotten entangled in variations on this dynamic a couple of times in weird ways. The paradox is that while at first the praise is a rush and it feels good, it quickly becomes a trap and I’ve come to despise it because I feel as if some people in my audience or class won’t let me be human anymore. Shortly after my mission I did the usual high-council tour of the stake, and I didn’t mind speaking, but I think it contributed to the development of a social role that quickly got uncomfortable. I had been inactive and unbelieving before my mission, and after my mission I was one of the oldest women in a young singles’ ward, and there were people in my home ward who just loved my “story,” as well as a number of younger women right out of high school who tended to look at RMs with awe. For some people I seemed to became this absolute model of…Christian womanhood, or something (?) (I know, me? Can you imagine???) At the time I was struggling with life decisions and anxiety about marriage and I was hardly a model of anything–there were moments when I was close to being a wreck. When I did get married and move away I felt an enormous sense of relief. The social role had snowballed way beyond anything I had ever wanted and it was really contributing to my misery. I felt as if I couldn’t confide my weaknesses and fears and doubts in anyone because no one would let me. They’d all be too horrified if the paragon stepped off her pedestal. It was insane.
A few years later I was a gospel-doctrine teacher for a long time, and I remember sitting in Relief Society one day when some question came up and the entire room, with one accord, looked to me as the authority on the scriptures in the room. Bad bad bad. I’m not even a Biblical or religious scholar, for crying out loud.
It was shortly thereafter that I came to the conclusion that I should never speak in church again because it just made me and other people too weird. I could almost hear the personality blimp inflating in the background as I delivered my well-chosen words. So I decided it was unethical and that my motives were too mixed–and that I was MUCH happier staying away from the blimp. It’s nicer to be allowed to be human. (Not that it’s been an issue, no one’s asked me to speak, but I think that’s for the best.)
My take-home message to myself: touch not the blimp.
Comment by Eve — November 20, 2007 @ 5:13 pm
That’s good advice for everyone. Maybe FMH could put it on a tishirt.
Comment by MCQ — November 20, 2007 @ 5:32 pm
Oh Eve, I can relate. When I was a senior in high school I started attending GD and the *bishop* turned to me, mid-lesson, and asked me to quote a particular passage from Isaiah. So I did (scripture chase queen that I was). Doomed! Doomed forever after! Now every time I got home I worry about disappointing people by not having become some sort of walking biblical reference text. This fear, of course, gets all mixed up with the pride when the bishop still asks me to give impromptu talks whenever a speaker fails to show (home ward again, not the SLC one). I feel like the embodiment of the BOM pride cycle: blessed with insight; share insight; swell like the stay-puff marshmallow man and cavort around great and spacious buildings, knocking things over with the sheer weight of my own self-infatuation, get melted and become sticky street sludge; start anew. Puff, melt, puff, melt, puff, melt (and now I want a smore).
I love speaking in church, but dang do I have to be careful not to let ebullience replace content. Sometimes I envy my mother her social phobias.
Great post, Sue! Even if it is causing my marshmallow man to melt again
Comment by Janet — November 20, 2007 @ 6:01 pm
Sue–one of my favorite professors at the Y was Eugene England, and I still miss him terribly. Once upon an annoying conversation, some acquaintance tried to convince me that the Y should fire him. “Why?”‘ I demanded, shocked at the idea that such a deeply good man should be cast off indecorously. “Because,” she said, “he’s got such charisma people would follow him to hell if he asked them to.” Of course, Gene never would’ve requested any such thing (unless it was an organized effort to redeem the hellions, with God’s help), but her reticence over cult of personality = duly noted.
There’s a reason Milton’s Satan is scarier than the ones in horror movies–he’s so dang sexy and appealing, so suave and eloquent. I count myself lucky that most of the charismatics I’ve met are more like Gene than Milton’s star of the morning. Me, I find pretty words terribly compelling.
Comment by Janet — November 20, 2007 @ 6:07 pm
[hands Janet a s’more]
Comment by Eve — November 20, 2007 @ 6:21 pm
I’ve always wondered how much delivery counts over substance. In R.S, especially, people seem to need to connect with the teacher for the lesson to “work”. The best lessons I’ve taught are when the class is engaged and asking lots of thoughtful questions and making insightful comments while I stand up in front smiling and nodding.
Comment by ECS — November 20, 2007 @ 6:22 pm
ECS, you make a great point. At one point during my church-teaching stint I decided that my theory of teaching was to introduce the topic, ask a couple of questions, let everyone else talk for 40 minutes, and then call on someone to say the closing prayer.
Comment by Eve — November 20, 2007 @ 6:32 pm
Hi, Eve - Yes, but if I rely too much on anticipating class participation in lieu of preparation, invariably that’s the day when no one has anything to say (i.e., the R.S. sisters in my ward do not have anything to say on the law of chastity). Awkward.
Comment by ECS — November 20, 2007 @ 7:23 pm
Yeah, I remember that problem too (especially with a topic like the law of chastity!). For myself I found that the paradox of teaching was having to prepare for a number of possible discussions–and then being willing to kiss all my work good-bye if the discussion needed to go somewhere else.
Remembering this is making me appreciate the nursery. When the kids wander off, it’s time for snack.
Comment by Eve — November 20, 2007 @ 8:18 pm
Eve, the best professors and teachers I’ve had taught this way–with a few well-timed nudges or probing questions as needed to keep the discussion on topic and/or provoke deeper reflection. Every time I’m up in front of a group leading a discussion and *I’m* doing most of the talking, even if I feel like what I have to say is important or well-spoken–it’s not a good discussion. At least that’s my own personal measuring stick.
Comment by Leah — November 20, 2007 @ 8:25 pm
Yup–the best teachers facilitate discussion. But we can’t do that when we speak in sacrament meeting. Wouldn’t that be fun, though? hehehehehe.
One of my profs would ask extremely provocative and difficult questions and just…wait. After a few tries we figured out that we should use that agonizing pause to think rather than sweat.
Comment by Janet — November 20, 2007 @ 10:09 pm
Eve–snacks work in Relief Society as well. And for my last Sacrament meeting talk, I started out by holding up two cookies. Ardis Parshall was in the second pew and told me I should have thrown them to her when I was done getting everyone’s attention.
Snacks: the only failproof means of rhetoric!
and thank you for the smore!
Comment by Janet — November 21, 2007 @ 2:55 pm
What some people call manipulation, I call inviting the spirit. Guess my whole church teaching experience has been a big fraud.
The thing is, you can tell jokes and humorous stories, and get people to like you. And you can do it in such a way that it’s not about YOU, but about inviting the Spirit to come in.
Every watch a conference talk that grabbed you? Do you really think it’s just about “manipulation”?
I credit the Bloggernacle with helping strengthen my testimony, but this is not one of those days.
Comment by Anonymous Coward — November 22, 2007 @ 1:17 pm
Why, because I admitted that it WAS about me? That i was NOT inviting the Spirit? There is a difference between our two experiences. I was relying upon myself, the Spirit had absolutely nothing to do with it. If you feel you are inviting in the Spirit, that’s a whole different story. I think what you are missing is the part where I said that of course, there are teachers who are both talented, skilled, charistmatic, AND spiritual. My point in this post was that at that time, I was NOT. My experiences were at two ends of a very broad spectrum.
My concern was that - I could turn it off and on - the ability to make people feel something that they thought was the Spirit, and I wasn’t sure if those were actually authentic spiritual experiences.
I’m sorry if it made you feel badly. Nobody called you a fraud. I called MYSELF a fraud, because of the way that I know I behaved.
Comment by Sue — November 22, 2007 @ 8:23 pm
I think that you are right that a lot of LDS don’t think very much, and anything that moves them in any way is credited to the Spirit. A little old RS lady once even told me to go see the movie “Ghost” when it was in theaters because it would strengthen my testimony. Oh please! I tried to chalk it up to arteriosclerosis, but younger people do it too. How often have you been to some kind of sales presentation in Utah and by the end they are all but saying “And I want to bear my testimony that Herbalife is true,” and everyone is practically sobbing and ready to buy the stuff. I never know whether to throw up or laugh, but since I hate barfing, I usually just laugh. However, even if you were totally not in tune that day, you did say of course you were talking about good things, so there could actually be someone there at the moment who WAS is tune with the Spirit and was touched by the Spirit even though you weren’t. That’s exactly why you don’t even have to be a good teacher, if the students are good students, they will go home with something. It doesn’t hurt to strive to be a good teacher and be yourself and even be entertaining all while actually trying to follow the Spirit and the manual. God has a sense of humor, too and he also knows you will rarely ever do all these things at once so he is there to pick up the pieces and help make up the difference. All that being said you have to wonder what percentage of those who thought they felt the Spirit really did…
Comment by Shellie — November 23, 2007 @ 2:13 pm
I second Lisa’s comment/concern
I have the tendancy to be well spoken entertaining and verbose (not to blow my own whistle but hey, “know thyself” right?) I also have a huge ability to sell BS and make it seem spiritual…
AAACK
I remember at Ward Council I remembered minutes before that i had the spiritual thought. Driving there with a friend of mine I let him know that I was totally unprepared. I went as far to APOLOGISE to him for what was coming because I knew that it would be concise and thought provoking even though it was prepare extemporaniously .It came off as well prepared and heartfelt… I just couldnt help myself.
These are the talents the Lord has given me. Now I can use these powers for good and sell spirituality or I can be an evil snake oil salesman. I can sell the heck out of God. He is good and makes others feel good, the only person I have a hard time selling is myself. I will, however, keep these thoughts to myself for the most part, because honestly , (crap is this many commas right?) if someone gains a glimmer or sliver of shiny from what I say, I want them to keep it.
It is because of this charisma that I have my own doubts ( and I am absolutely fraught with them right now) I pray for the gift of faith. It is often the only thing I pray for these days. I would trade all the fancy words for just an ounce of beleif right now…
Comment by just call me Cassandra... — November 23, 2007 @ 8:01 pm
p.s.
the last time I spoke in Sacrament we just happened to have some of the general relife society board visiting our ward. After my talk which was geniune and yet well presented came up to me gave me a hug and told me that I had a “truly” special spirit (one even had tears) I panicked.
The thing is, these sisters were convinced of my testimony, even though I am not. While attending womens conference in May, I ran into one of these sisters again. It had been six months since the time I met her and she REMEMBERED me! This time I really panicked. What if she REALLY REALLY remembered me? what if I sold her enough? I have to have faith that the Lord would not call me to something I was not spiritually worthy of based on a few well spoken words, but maybe I should be like G and refuse to speak or teach because of this, or like Janet (hi sweety hows the baby ?) and reign myself in a bit?
It is all very very confusing to my poor little gemini soul
Comment by just call me Cassandra... — November 23, 2007 @ 8:19 pm
This mormon-folk idea to teach to make the Spirit felt is very cart-before-horse to me. The Spirit listeth where it will, as they (Luke? ) says. Rather than use emotionalism to theatrically create a Spirit-like experience, I wish more of us had the confidence to realize truth invites the Spirit.
That’s why when that guy said he only prayed to HF, not to power-point his lesson plan, you got goosebumps. Let’s teach something true about something important. The Spirit finds that more irresistible than donuts. And truth ain’t no snoozer.
Comment by Johnna Cornett — November 24, 2007 @ 2:57 am
SueM,
There are many ways to be a good teacher. And many ways to be a bad teacher.
When you taught gospel doctrine, you were trying your hardest to NOT teach in your natural teaching style (which happens to be good and effective). The result was that the lessons were so hard to sit through-stay awake through-or even attend, that no one was getting anything out of it!
As a TOFT teacher you decided to work with your talents, not against them. Perhaps because of the subject matter, or maybe because of the audience (an RS crowd is a bit easier to get involved in a discussion), you gave yourself permission to teach in your own style and are a great teacher! The benefit of this, is that people are interested in your lessons and they pay attention. They are engaged. They are more likely to learn something. So, they are more likely to want to compliment you or tell you that they enjoyed the lesson/felt the spirit/or share whatever other reaction they might have.
There was nothing wrong with praying and preparing and trying to invite the spirit when you were a GD teacher, but you should have realized that it was ok to use your god given talents and your own personal teaching style to the lessons.
Comment by jks — November 25, 2007 @ 11:00 pm
I had a kinda non linear thought
this seems to only apply to things of a spiritual nature hmmmmmmm
wonder why?
Comment by just call me Cassandra — November 26, 2007 @ 7:27 pm