90:10

It's been a while since I've written.  It's been a while since I've wanted to write.  With funerals (both grandparents, see previous posts) and school and personal drama, motivation has been a bit thin on the ground.  I'd think about what to write and come up short.  (Something about my cat?  No.  I over share pictures of her as it is and no one cares.  Politics?  Too gross to talk about right now.  They're all crazy.  Teaching?  No.  Not enough going on there that's any different from the norm, and if it is different, it's not really a good idea to write about.)

Recent events have had me thinking a bit more than normal about the reality of my life.  I know I write about this a lot as well, but the past several months have changed my perspective significantly in some ways and solidified them in others, and I need to get it off my chest.  Maybe so I can move on to that final stage of grief (past anger and to acceptance).  Maybe because I don't feel like this is a story that I often acknowledge.  Maybe because I'm tired and don't know how better to say what I'm thinking than here.  Having the conversation over and over with myself is exhausting.

I have to accept that to many, I am not the ideal.  Not just my "situation" (as people want to call it), but me, personally.  I am too independent, too "unique", too cowardly, too picky, too something to be married.  (As if abandoning one of those things would magically produce the perfect spouse, lovingly gift-wrapped.  As if the correct formula of goodness or ambition were enough to solve your "problem".)  This is hard, because happy marriages and good family life are a very worthy ideal.  They are also an ideal that becomes a pipe dream for many (even those that are married.)  I've lived enough to see so many of my friends get married, divorced, and re-married.  Whatever love I could have now is not of the naive fairy tale variety.  Regardless of any of that - the fact is, to many, my life is a problem that needs to be "solved".  I am Maria so I must be in search of a Captain. 

I have to accept that many feel I have not yet "arrived" at adulthood.  I am encouraged to attend services with single people of comparable age, where I would then be governed and supervised by married individuals who plan activities largely centered around things the average twelve-year-old enjoys.  Things I hate doing.  In the hierarchy of church thought, there seem to be limits to single adult capability until you are past your expiration date (re: you "age out" of said congregations.)  In fairness, I have been lucky enough to be in a ward for the last year where I am treated with kindness and respect.  It's made a world of difference because it hasn't always been the case.

I feel like I have to validate my happiness to others.  So many assume that to be single is to be desperate when the truth is, I'm not - at least not most of the time.  The truth that I don't know how to tell people is that I am happy not getting married, maybe ever.  To hear them say "when", while I want to say "if", because it is no guarantee.  I find dating utterly exhausting and endlessly frustrating.  It doesn't matter how many times I am told that I am beautiful and smart and how unfathomable it is that I'm not married and that I "will be some day!", the fact of the matter is that I have nearly three decades of evidence to suggest otherwise.  The fact of the matter is that I've never had a boyfriend.  That the closest I ever came was only recently, and said person abandoned me without even the courtesy of a "not interested" text.  Just radio silence and the disappointment of feeling as though I'd let everyone down again.

Even worse - I feel like I have to validate my happiness to myself.  To remember that I have a good life.  That I get the chance to travel, to teach, to inspire, to perform.  That I have a family that regularly affirms and validates me and where I am now.  That I am not sharing stories of children sick with stomach flu or pictures of Sharpie mishaps.  That even though not one little piece of me wants either the flu stories or the marker pictures, there is a very real part of me that sincerely hurts at the thought of not being loved by someone like that and loving them back.  That part of me that wants to break every disk of every movie I own where the guy and girl see each other across the room and give each other that look because, for me, that feels like a dream more elusive than a Hogwarts letter or a wardrobe to Narnia.  That part of me watches friends and relatives meet and marry their intended with what seems to be about the same amount of challenge (and time) as deciding which cereal to buy at Walmart.  That part of me just hurts.  That part of me feels lonely and scared and insecure and lost.  That part of me attends weddings and receptions and smiles and dances but mostly just feels horribly behind.  It's all I can do not to end up in this awful cycle of "what am I doing wrong?!" through to "nothing!  Everyone is stupid" followed by "no, you just haven't met the right one yet" to "I don't even want to meet anyone!  I don't care any more". . . over and over.  It's a perpetual battle against insecurity.

I don't know why I'm sharing this.  I feel like most of the time I think about my dating life I'm putting on a public face of great defiance and not caring.  Truthfully, most of the time I'm fine.  Most of the time I'm happy.  I'd even say that about 90% of the time, I've decided and honestly feel that if I never get married and have a family that is just perfect, and if life goes the other way, then that could be pretty great too.  Whatever.  All is just fine in my corner of Zion.  But that other 10%?  That other 10% is much more nuanced.  That other 10% is just exhausted, and feels like screaming at the thought of yet another first date, blind date, set up, whatever.  That other part wants to tell everyone who says I'm beautiful and "it will happen": "YES.  But what if it DOESN'T?!  What if I don't even WANT IT TO?!"  That part of me is, quite frankly, trying really hard not to be angry at the universe for the awful tease of the last few months and wants to go on a permanent hiatus from all things even closely resembling romance.

So that's where I am.  On a hiatus where, for the time being, I'm going to be just a little bit bitter and frustrated and then, hopefully, return back to that 90% happy place.  Theater helps.  The prospect of travel helps.  My cat helps.  Spring is coming and flowers are starting to bloom and soon everything will be a "puddle wonderful" again.

The Thing About Modesty

I remember where I was the first time I saw the phrase "Modest is Hottest!"  It was on a hand-made t-shirt a girl at a church camp was wearing.  "Awesome!" I thought.  After growing up in an area where my religious beliefs were by far the minority, it was novel to have someone proclaim what I believed was true too.  Bodies are meant to be appropriately covered!  You tell them, stranger!

When I went to college I worked for the IT Department helping people fix their internet and other computer problems over the phone.  We could work on homework after a while if call volume was low, but for the first half hour we were supposed to review documentation we needed to know and also to familiarize ourself with current campus events by reading the school paper (which was still a paper.  Funny how fast things change.)

My favorite section to read was the Opinion section because there was guaranteed to be some crazy in there at least once a week demanding something totally ridiculous, like the bookstore needing to take down their Halloween decorations because Halloween is evil or that the cheerleaders were crazy immodest and needed to cover up or whatever.

The funny thing is, the longer I read the paper and the longer I attended BYU, the more often I heard comments about the cheerleading uniforms being inappropriate.  It always seemed centered there, and occasionally on the gymnasts.  It was never on the track and field uniforms or the swimming uniforms.  Something kind of tweaked in my head - what is it about modesty that is so completely and thoroughly centered around women alone?  I thought that maybe people just saw cheerleading as superfluous and unnecessary and therefore a waste of "compromising standards".  Fortunately as I talked with the people I was around, most of them agreed that those people who were annoyed with the uniforms were ridiculous and that people need to wear clothing appropriate for the activity they are doing.

The more culturally aware I've become, however, I've started having some serious problems with the way modesty is discussed.  Here are some of the things I have observed that I have issue with:

1. Discussions of modesty are culturally centered around how it makes you more physically beautiful.
(As if the only way to con girls into covering their shoulders and knees is to train them from birth to believe that their shoulders and knees are ugly or evil or bad because they are enticing in the wrong way, so you need to cover them and then you are enticing in the right way, because, by the way, that's the most important thing you can do.)

2. Discussions of modesty are centered almost completely around women and women's clothing choices.
(As if it was impossible for men to be immodest.  And I'm not just talking about wearing your pants around your knees or having long hair.  I'm talking about how tired I am of teaching our girls and boys to focus on the "errors" in fashion choices instead of, you know, actually getting to know the person they are with.)

3. Discussions of modesty often focus on the relationship between clothing trends and the statement that God's standards never change.
(The simple response to this is that garment lengths and styles have changed significantly since the 1850s, so if you believe that God's standards never change, and I do, then you have to believe that modesty isn't a principle that revolves entirely around clothing and that there is a greater truth we are missing out on.)

I would like to submit that that melding the discussion of modesty only to fashion is a red herring to what modesty really is.

Modesty is not a principle that excludes clothing choices, but it is not a principle dominated by them either.  If it was, then the church would be calling for women to wear burqas.  Current discussions (like this one here) or the recent issue with the school editing what girls' pictures looked like for the yearbook can only lead in the "girls must cover everything because their bodies are dangerous" train of thought.  I could go on and on here about how much I hate that girls are led to believe that they control the thoughts of men with their hemline, hate that men are claimed as being incapable of controlling their own thoughts, hate that the intense focus on a woman's clothing choices encourages rape culture; but that discussion has happened elsewhere and better than I can do it here (it's tech week for my show.  My brain.  My brain!)

What I want to say instead is this:

Modesty is a principle of respect for yourself and respect for others.  This can manifest itself in many ways.  It includes dressing appropriately for the activities you are doing.  It involves being kind and encouraging to the self image of others, and to your views of yourself.  It means accepting no for an answer when a person denies you the chance to kiss them, hug them, hold hands with them, touch them in any way that they do not want.  It means speaking honestly about what you see and hear and giving a fair evaluation.

Modesty is historically associated with the principle of moderation.  Unfortunately, it is also historically associated with the clothing of women and very closely linked with the word "shame" in Old English.  So it isn't as though the rhetoric we are using is new - blaming women for the actions of men and focusing on women as objects to be carefully covered until the appropriate time comes to uncover them goes back centuries.  Isn't that sad?  It does make it somewhat easier to sympathize with how hard it is to change the trends of discussion.  But those discussions need to happen, and change needs to come or we are totally selling ourselves short.  So instead of focussing on a negative value, let us instead focus our discussions on the true positive aspects of being modest.  Let's focus on presenting ourselves well in our clothing choices, yes, but also in how we respect and honor others.  Let us remember that the Lord doesn't look on the outward appearance, He looks on the heart - and it is our job to be strong enough and smart enough to see past the exterior foibles of people and to see them.  Really see them.

However Hard and Long the Road

It isn't often that I write publicly about something relating to my more personal trials, particularly when they are trials of faith. Mostly I find that that type of writing is best saved for journaling and not nearly as conducive to the healthy dose of snark and cheek I like to include in my public writing. (Does mentioning "snark and cheek" in and of itself count? I don't think so.)

But I'm standing on the edge of something that is making me nervous, and I'll never sleep tonight until I write. And since I so rarely share my feelings of faith - I figure now is as good a time as any to start.

From when I was very small, I was told - like many Latter-Day Saints before me, that going to the temple was an important goal. The temple is a very sacred place for members of my church. We believe that temples - there are more than 100 around the world - are the physical representation of God's home on earth. It is where we make covenants with God to live a righteous life and learn more about Him. It is where families are sealed together so that they can be families not just on this earth, but after death as well. It is where we perform sacred ordinances for those who have died so that they too can receive the blessings of covenants. It is a place of prayer and worship and service.

Because of the sacred nature of temples, members are not allowed to enter without first declaring their worthiness before local clergy members. What's more, there are age requirements. Youth can enter at 12 to do baptisms for the dead, but not to make their own covenants or do other work. The rest of the temple is reserved for older members.

As a child, I assumed that I would go to the temple before a mission (at 21) or when I was married (before I graduated from college like everyone else, obviously.) Well, 21 came and went. A mission didn't feel right for me. I watched boys go through at 19 in preparation for their own missions and swallowed a little bit of my frustration, but figured I wouldn't have to wait long.

But 21 came and went, followed by 22. . . 23. . . my fridge was littered with an assortment of wedding invitations that rotated in and out as (what feels like) all of my friends married and I remained home on the weekends more or less content with a me-date of reading and movies. It got harder to be denied a chance to go to the temple, something that I could do, at least, because I was worthy, not because I was waiting on the agency of someone else.

Girls aren't typically recommended to go through the entire temple until they are married, go on a mission or reach the ripe old age of 25 (which honestly, to me, always felt like a subtle euphemism from the church as a woman past hope of ever getting married, so they may as well be sent through.)

Not that this stopped me from asking my leaders to consider anyway. I'm stubborn like that, I suppose. I have always been active in my church. I have lived away from my immediate family for nearly a decade and have remained active on my own in all of that time. I believe that my church is true and good and has blessed my life. I honor the covenants I have made and strive my best to lead the life the Lord would have me lead. But each time I approached a leader I was told without much conversation at all that they wouldn't consider it until I was 25. No conversation about why, or time to think about my worthiness - just a no. So I have a hard time swallowing the pill of watching the circumstances of everyone else be a good enough reason for temple attendance, while my lack of circumstances but great desire has not been sufficient. It has hurt. Greatly.

I do feel a little guilty hurting, actually. You hear so many triumphant stories of starving families in third world countries selling everything they own to go to the temple just once in their lives while I, who know I will eventually get to go at little/no financial inconvenience hundreds of times in my life am only asked to wait until I'm "old". And I know that a good dose of my frustration is that part of my personality speaking that absolutely despises being left behind, particularly when it feels unjust. I also feel that feminist part of my soul just annoyed at the sheer number of immature boys who go through the temple simply because they are going on missions, and spend their whole life just expecting it to happen, so it does. (And then I feel guilty about that too, because missionaries do great things and ought to be blessed in that way no matter their age.) ((And then there are the 18-19 year old girls marrying the boys and that gets my gander up even more. But I digress.))

That quarter-century mark is just around the corner for me. I made my appeal again. This time I was (finally) put through to speak with the Stake President. He gave me about 600 pages of reading to do. Somehow in the middle of working what is essentially two full time jobs and assistant directing the school musical and, you know, trying to keep my sanity, I found time to read it all in about three weeks. This Sunday I will have the chance to speak with the Stake President again to determine my fate.

I'm nervous.

Nervous about getting my hopes up too high after years of disappointment. I'm scared to even hope. Hope is equivalent to joy and I don't dare even let myself think about flying on the wings of anticipation this time because the thud is unthinkable. Honestly, I'm actually praying mostly for the Lord to tell me if it is the wrong choice in advance so that I can have my privacy as I try to move on, instead of having to face someone else with that grief. I know that I am too strong and stubborn to let a "no" break my testimony of the church, but I'm terrified of what will happen if he asks me to wait longer after all the work I have done to prepare and all the prayers I've offered begging for answers, because deep down I know that it isn't my choice to make, or the Stake President's choice - it's His.

In the middle of all this I am hoping either way for a bit of understanding. I don't understand why it has been this way. I don't know why these blessings seem to come as easily as putting socks on in the morning for some people and feel like wandering in the desert with the Children of Israel for me. But with every last fingernail of faith I can find I am clinging to the belief that someday this will all make sense to me, and that I'll have the courage to accept whatever solution is reached on Sunday.

In the mean time: I'm watching this.

Or there's always damnation. . .

I would not necessarily consider myself a feminist. Not in the traditional/stereotypical sense, at least. I don't think that women need to take on all male jobs to be worthwhile, I don't think all men are chauvinists, I'd love to have a family some day and a little girly part of my soul likes it when couples get together in books and movies. I also, erm, would rather wear all my clothing (seen or unseen) than not.

But every so often, there's a part of my soul that rears its feminist head that cannot be stopped.

A good friend of mine posted something on Facebook as a status that looked something like this:

"I want to become something or do something great. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm looking!"

There followed a handful of responses that all looked something like this (including spelling errors):

"Ur the mother of a great baby! You can't do better than that!"

Or

"But your a mother and a wife and a really great friend. Your already great."

(That low rumbling that sounds like thunder? That would be my feminist monster head waking up from a nap before its had enough sleep.)

Now, you might look at me and say, "Hold the phone. Those are nice responses. It is after all, good to be a wife and a mother. What's wrong with being great already?"

My response?

This friend of mine is already certifiably great. I won't argue that even a little. She's been gifted in many different areas of her life and I've always admired her for her grace, generosity, and charity. She's legitimately great already. These responders aren't wrong.

Those responses may have been meant to comfort my friend into acceptance of her life as it is, but it didn't look to me like she was looking for comfort. It looked to me like she was looking for progress. Like she was looking for something beyond what she already had. Wanting to find a way to influence more of the world for good. Being a mother and a wife are wonderful, but the process of buying a ring and producing children and earning the titles "wife" and "mother" do not give women a "get out of progression free" pass. These responses may have been intended for comfort, but the culture around such attitudes reeks strongly of: "Don't worry about getting better, God loves you just as you are right now and you don't need to work or try to be like Him." (Which, last I checked my Bible Dictionary, shimmies rather close to the definition of "damnation." Lack of progression? Check.)

What is it about our culture that wants to treat the act of getting married and becoming a mother as the peak of achievement a woman can make? That once those things are done, we cannot possibly do anything else with our lives that would influence the world for good? Why do we, as women and as a culture, feel the need to patronize ourselves into boxes so that we can justify who we are?

Next you might say, "Well, this is all fine and great. But 'no success can compensate for failure in the home.' Right?"

I'm not arguing. What I would like to suggest, though, is that our definitions of "failure" and "home" might be a little different. It is, I suppose, a certain kind of success for a family to be well fed and decently fond of each other at the end of the day. But the real triumph of a family is when they are then able to, as individuals and groups, go into the world and make a difference. If they were fond of each other at home forever and never went into the world, that wouldn't be a very successful situation. That seems obvious. But shouldn't that apply to every member of the family, not just the children and the father? For the mother/wife to be fully successful in the home, doesn't she need to be the greatest person she can be outside of it as well?

(The petty part of me would also like to suggest that the above quote was not directed only to women, but to men as well, and I don't remember anyone telling men recently not to enhance their talents and abilities. In fact, I remember a specific instance where they were commanded to expect more and do more. But I digress.)

I think that monster is starting to feel slightly better about the world. Maybe it's just a touchy subject for me and I'm overreacting a bit. I am, after all, a successful, happy single adult woman in a culture that sometimes sees those traits as incongruent. But I took no shame whatsoever in posting my own response to my friend in which I said something to the effect of: "______ - I think it's wonderful that you want to learn new things and be great. Go for it!"

Purging vs. Purification

One of the things about Utah Valley that I struggle with more than almost anything else is how easy it is for people to be sheltered. This became all too clear to me (again) this last weekend while driving students home from the symphony. Several students in the back of the car started talking about how before taking my class they didn't know that there was such a thing as other religions.

A friend of mine told me about a conversation he had with students who believed quite literally that there are people in the world who are not good enough to be with them. (Seriously).

I grew up in an environment that was much more openly diverse. We had to learn quickly that if we were going to have friends, we would need to see beyond the difference and to the parts of that person that made them good.

I was reminded again of this lesson today in Sunday School when studying the story of Zacchaeus in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was the Chief Publican - a supervising tax collector, if you will, who was very likely excommunicated from the church by the rest of the Jews because of his profession. In the story, Zacchaeus, who must have been rather short, hears that Jesus is coming and climbs a tree to catch sight of him. Jesus sees him, tells him to come down, and says that he would like to stay in Zacchaeus' house while he is in the city. The Jews that are with the Savior are confused by this - why would Jesus want to stay in the home of a sinner? Well, for one simple reason: Jesus is a purifier, not a purger.

Zacchaeus, though a Publican, is not wicked. In verse eight Zacchaeus tells Jesus that he gives away half of his belongings to the poor and if he makes any mistakes in his tax collection he returns the money plus four times extra for the inconvenience. He is a man with a strange choice of career in the community, perhaps, but Jesus isn't interested in what he has done wrong, he is interested in what he can become.

The teacher pointed out that there is a difference between purging and purifying. Although both words come from similar roots and are often used synonymously, there is a big difference. To purge something is to focus on getting rid of the bad. For example, when you have the flu, the entirety of your body seems to focus more on getting rid of what is bad than on supporting that which is good. When you purify something, your focus is on seeking out the good so that you can enhance it. The best example probably comes in refining gold, which is heated to a very high temperature. The layers of dross are pulled away until the metal is free of impurities. The focus is on the result, not the cause.

Essentially, purging and purifying accomplish the same thing. But the focus is the important part. When we deal with people (or books, or movies, or new experiences, or food, or. . .) so focussed on getting rid of the bad that we don't have time to focus on the good, or are we so focused on enhancing the good that we find that the impurities have separated out of their own accord because they no longer belong?

It's all about perspective.

The life I imagine, the life I lead

I realized recently that the life I imagined for myself as a child and the life I've led are not the same. I'm sure everyone has this experience, but I had it again this weekend. When I was younger, I imagined that - of course, being the beautiful and amazingly smart and engaging individual that I am - I would have to beat suiters away in droves and that I would have my pick of the best of the best. Instead I've found that my confidence and intelligence are sometimes intimidating and that while I am far from ugly, I'm not showy enough to get that much attention. I've also found that I wouldn't have wanted it anyway, because hoverers make me nervous. I used to think that I would marry while I was in college and live a poor early married life in a run down but pleasantly sunny apartment and that after graduation we would traipse off wherever the wind took us (outside of Utah) and we would be gloriously happy. Instead, I'm living right in the heart of crazy conservative Utah Valley in a new house with two nice (female) roommates.

I've also found (much to the dismay of some people, I'm afraid), that the life I'm living right now is making me gloriously happy. Most of the time.

My wonderful cousin got married last weekend in Southern California and I got the chance to go down with the rest of my family to celebrate the event. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to it. Not that I'm not happy for her, but that selfish side of me that gets lonely sometimes saw it as nothing but a chance to be reminded of my perpetual singleness and lack of permission to enter the temple for myself yet. I saw myself sitting outside with people seven plus years younger than me and felt more than a little trapped by circumstance. It put a frustrating sort of magnifying glass up against where I am and created a huge source of inner turmoil in the months and weeks leading up to the weekend.

See, being a single person (particularly a single woman) in the church is a precarious sort of place to be. Finding balance is difficult. For example, I am told (often in the same lesson) to be satisfied with my life and work hard, but to be looking for a husband. I am told to expect to be treated well by the man I will marry, but also reminded that many men in this modern day don't know how to treat women and need a little help. I'm told that I am worth a great deal single or married, but told that the life I am leading now is not the best way to be living compared to taking on housewifely duties and a family of my own. I'm told to be strong and independent and educated, but to make sure that I'm not TOO much of those things or I'll risk being scary to the boys. The clashes of advice are often quite overwhelming and even more exhausting.

You see - I am very happy with the life I lead. I love my job. I love my students and my coworkers and the sheep I drive by every morning. I've enjoyed the friendships I've made in the ward I attend. In many ways, I am perfectly content with my life. I take great satisfaction at providing for myself and love the freedom I have to set my own schedule. If this ended up being my life for the next ten or twenty years, I would be content and know that I'd done some good in the world and lived a good life.

But then I attend weddings like the one last weekend and those feelings of guilt start creeping back in. Wondering if I've grown so attached to the excitement and joy of my job that I'd ever be satisfied doing anything that involved watching small children all day and cleaning bathrooms. Wondering if I should be doing more to find that companion or if I should trust that doing what I'm doing will be enough. Trying to figure out what my role as a single woman in the church is really worth. Battling against pressure and teasing from family and friends. Recognizing that I feel peace in what I do and feel as though I'm where God wants me to be, but knowing that other people may see it as wrong or strange or temporary or of less worth or importance in my eternal progression than other things I could be doing. Recognizing that some people just don't understand, and trying to be ok with that.

I guess I'm not looking for answers or advice or anything at all except a brain dump into the void. And perhaps a greater sense of validation and comfort with liminal space.

To Be or to Do?

Last week I had a very curious conversation with a parent who had a kid doing a decent amount of make-up work. My perspective on this make-up work was that it would be something akin to personal tutoring and a chance for the student to actually learn what they had missed over the term. The parent quite bluntly told me that they would be satisfied if the student just turned things in so that the checklist could be completed and taken care of and signed off and gold starred and whatever. I was more than a little miffed by this; probably because it was directly related to writing and I get frustrated when people insult the amount of work it takes to be even half-way decent at writing. But I was more frustrated than that for a completely different reason, which was stated much more eloquently than I ever could this weekend during the Sunday afternoon session of the LDS General Conference by Lynn G. Robbins (follow the link for a video - the talk will be available in text form soon.)

Elder Robbins talked about the difference between to-do lists and to-be lists. In essence, it's very easy to check things off a to-do list when you're grocery shopping or attacking things to do at work, but not so easy when it relates to actually becoming someone. (The example he used was, if I remember right, being a better husband. Not something you can be 'done' with.) I found myself half wanting to shout at the screen: "ARE YOU HEARING THIS, DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION?!!!" It was exactly what I was trying to tell this mother.

See, the modern education world will say up and down that they are about turning students into life-long learners and that they are educating people and individuals not just groups of robots, but you'd be hard pressed to recognize that in the way most assessments are structured. Any more you have to have mathematical proof for learning - good judgment just doesn't fly. But people aren't to-do lists, and 'becoming' is an eternal process. It's one of the parts of Mormon doctrine that bewilders and interests me the most - that God can be a perfect being while still eternally progressing. So while there are definitely things that can be mastered once and for all (I don't ever have to re-learn the sum of 2+3, for example), there are many, many more things of even greater importance that are never mastered or finished.

In other news, I love General Conference.

Absolute Purity and Entertainment

I taught Huckleberry Finn in one of my classes this year, and at one point asked my students how they determine whether or not entertainment is "good" or "bad". Being the wonderfully conservative creatures that they are, most of them repeated lessons they've learned (I'm sure) from their parents and from well-meaning Sunday School teachers who insist that one bad part of a movie ruins the entire thing.

We've all had the lesson. Someone bakes brownies with a bit extra salt. Someone serves ice-cream with mud instead of chocolate sauce. The point of the lesson is to prove to us that if there's an ounce of wickedness in something, then it's evil and needs to be shunned.

I've always hated this lesson. I think it's a terrible way to teach what they're really trying to teach, which is that we need to keep our thoughts pure, and viewing things that aren't pure (heedless of context) is frustrating to me for three main reasons:

1. First, it's a little too easy for people to say that there is absolute evil in the world and absolute good and not acknowledge the grey. OR, they acknowledge the grey and then discount it, too, as not worthy. This becomes a problem when you consider. . .

2. That the majority of people and what they create and how they live on this earth lives in that grey area. I've never met a person that wasn't flawed. I've also never met anyone so wicked that I couldn't find at least something good in them. Maybe I'm sheltered. Maybe I'm naive. But I doubt it: people aren't all good or all bad. And if we teach our youth to treat entertainment that way (don't watch it unless it's 100% free of anything that might in any way taint your thoughts), then how do they end up treating other human beings? Well, at the extreme, like the former students of a friend of mine who end up believing - truly, honestly believing - that there are people on this earth that are not worthy to be with them. I find that rather tragic. In fact, it goes very harshly against the values that the Savior set for us.

3. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I am infinitely more offended by trite, boring, cheap "clean" entertainment (books, movies, TV) than I am by entertainment that earns it. I mean the kind of stories generally produced by a large number of LDS Filmmakers or playwrights or authors. I mean books that emotionally manipulate or films that don't honestly earn the story they try to tell. I find those stories more offensive because they cheapen the beliefs I have fought so hard to earn and to maintain. I find them frustrating because they scratch the surface of human existence. Not that every movie with violence or swearing or sex is good by comparison - that's not at all what I'm trying to say. What I mean, ultimately, is this:

The brownie/ice cream metaphor is not completely without merit. It just needs some tweaking. The dirt brownies only apply to entertainment (or people) where there is an extreme that can't be ignored or associated with. Pornography. Mass murderers. These are things that just can't have any place at all in the brownie without ruining it completely. The better metaphor is this. Ingredients like baking powder or flour or salt or even chocolate and eggs all belong in a brownie. They are all good ingredients. But they need to be used well, and in appropriate amounts, and with appropriate context to be understood correctly and appreciated.

The King's Speech, for example, has a scene in which King George VI lets loose a string of F-words that is quite long. The movie is rated R because of it - but not because of anything else (except incidental drinking, I suppose). Many people would see the rating or hear about the language and absolutely turn it down just because it exists. What they don't take into account is the context of the scene (therapy), or the context of the man (George VI is not a swearing man) or the context of the language itself (it isn't used crassly or insultingly or crudely - they're just words.)

Ultimately, I suppose what I really mean to say is that I have a very hard time understanding how people of faith, particularly those of LDS faith, can honestly allow themselves to be sheltered conveniently away, content with everything they have, when the foundation of our church was built on the power of a single question (and continued to expand because of more questions.) If we are not a people willing to question, to learn, and to grow from everything around us - even those things that are not absolutely pure - then we are holding ourselves hostage to acquiring knowledge. We would do well to remember that the glory of God is intelligence - and we have a responsibility to acquire it.

If there is anything. . .

". . . virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things."

Articles of Faith: 13

I saw Tangled with my family tonight. It's the second time I've seen it and I thoroughly enjoyed myself both times. It's a clever movie that I wasn't expecting to do much more with other than a mental pat on the head - a "awww. . . you're such a cute Disney movie!" sort of gesture. Instead it struck a pretty big chord with me that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since. Probably because I think it's a hugely important film for the families of students I teach.

Let me give you a bit of background. I teach in one of the most conservative communities in the country. My students almost entirely come from the same family and religious background. Nearly all of them come from families where the parents are very involved in their lives in all aspects - and very concerned about each of those aspects. To these families, the world is often seen as a dark, scary place that needs to be constantly censored and filtered before reaching their children. Above all, the family is the most important thing, and keeping kids home as often as possible is important. Many of these students don't attend school full time so that they can be at home. In some cases, students are actually pulled out of class if it is seen as an environment that might be stressful. Most of these students are wary of what is new or different because they have been taught (either directly or indirectly) their entire lives to be cautious about the unknown.

Now, to be clear, this post is not meant to totally discount that method of parenting/raising a family. The world is often scary and certainly filled with darkness. It's not a hidden fact that the pornography rate in Utah is higher than any other state in the Union, for example. And families are very important - they are central to the Lord's plan, after all, and should be valued and strong.

What I do fear is the censorship. Typically the goal of censorship is to keep a child (or a person) innocent - but what censorship typically breeds is not innocence, but ignorance - and those are not parallel virtues. Ignorance breeds naivety - and those who are naive have no means with which to change the world for the better. The answer to evil is not hiding from it and pretending that it doesn't exist.

This is why I bring up Tangled, which was brilliant and beautiful in many respects, but mostly in the message that it gave of the dangers and problems of what happens when you shelter someone from the bad things. In the movie, Rapunzel is kept away in a tower (as per tradition) by a woman claiming to be her mother. Under the guise of "protection", Rapunzel is kept in this tower for the first eighteen years of her life until an arrogant (and hilarious) thief makes his way up her tower to escape a horse that thinks it's a dog/general.

So - as with the traditional story - Rapunzel leaves. And she discovers that her mother was right - the world is full of scary, frightening creatures. Not everyone wants what is best for you. Not every creature or place is safe. But she also sees and experiences beauty and fun and joy that she never would have had if she hadn't left the tower. If you can't have the bitter, you can't have the sweet.

And that is why I ache for so many of my students. For so many people I see around me who live their lives in constant fear. I think they see their life as a boat in the middle of the ocean that keeps springing leaks. They've used all their fingers and toes and elbows and any other resources they can to try and plug the leaks, but they keep breaking through. I would be absolutely miserable if I lived my life in constant fear. Fear is a disabler - it keeps you from moving forward. And it is not the way the Lord wants us to live. We are meant to progress, not hide away. We are meant to influence the whole world - not just the walls of our homes. And if we are going to influence the world, we need to be in it - aware of it, and we need to love it as God does. And he does love it - because he gave his son for it. Mormons (particularly those in Utah Valley, where the gospel of the church and culture of the church mix so crazily at times) are fools if they think they have a corner on God's love for the world. And I think it's about time they owned up to this and started becoming a more powerful people.

Follow the Prophet

Since last weekend's LDS General Conference there has been quite a bit of discussion on President Packer's talk about standards of morality and the power of repentance. Opinions have been shared and debated and protests have been staged because the talk was seen as a step backward for the church as regards the way we approach the LGBT community.

I have my own opinions on the matter that I don't really feel the need to express here. Suffice it to say that I have been in theater long enough (and in the world long enough) to have made several friends who associate with that community. I've enjoyed and treasured their friendships and valued the mutual respect that we've had for the beliefs we share or disagree on. This is true of every friendship I've had, really - the need for mutual respect and understanding even when you disagree.

I don't wish to discuss the political ramifications of President Packer's talk. Members outside of the LDS community are not always in a position to understand our beliefs as well as we would and they can't be blamed for that. What makes me nervous is when members of the church start calling the Presidency of the church and the Apostles 'out of touch' or 'misguided' or 'misinformed'. When they start asking for the Presidency to re-think or re-phrase what they have said so that it is more comfortable to hear. That is dangerous.

The Lord has made it very clear that he speaks through his prophets. There is no room for debate on this. Blaming age or so-called naivety for the reasoning behind any official message of these men is a sign of a lack of understanding or faith in that doctrine. Are these men perfect? No. Would the Lord allow them to make statements on His behalf that were contrary to His plan? No.

I understand when people outside of the church misunderstand or misread what the apostles say because they do not hear with the same experience that members of the church should. They listen to these words as politics because - for most other churches/religious organizations - that's how messages are given. But when members of the church willingly say "well. . . I follow the Prophet, but sometimes he's a little out of touch. . . " - that is dangerous. The Lord did not tell us to follow the Prophet when it was comfortable. He did not tell us to follow the Prophet only if we understood everything that He said. He did not say to follow the Prophet, but you can pick which members of the Apostles are crazy - He said:

"What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away, but shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same."

As members of the church we have a responsibility to be kind and understanding to all of God's children. We can't be comfortable with naivety about the state of the world. We have to associate with and love those who do not share our beliefs. We also have to recognize that the doctrine of this church is not always comfortable. It does not fit with the standards that the world would set or the way that knowledge is constructed and categorized in this world. The gospel is manifest in ways that can't always be measured or seen - but it can be felt and understood.

So there it is. The Lord does not excuse Himself from what needs to be said, and it is not my responsibility to excuse Him (or his servants) either.

We read to know we're not alone.

I had an interesting discussion last night about the role of fiction that I don't think I was altogether prepared for.  I don't even remember how the topic came up, but I do remember saying something along the lines of how I hope there are good fiction books in heaven otherwise I don't think I want to go there.  And I mean good fiction.  Fiction that isn't necessarily about people in the church kind of fiction.  I don't want my only option to be Charly by Jack Weyland.  

The person I was having this conversation with didn't seem altogether convinced.  Maybe as a non-English major he just hadn't considered it, which is fine.  From what I can tell in the brief amount of time I spent with him (it was on a double date - he wasn't my date) he seemed pretty well put together and nice enough to laugh when I inadvertently managed to be more sarcastic than I intended to be (which was more often than it probably should have been.  Need to work on that.)  Really, I think this is something that I think about quite a bit simply because so much of my life revolves around reading and fiction.  

So I'd like to elaborate on that now.  I still think there will be fiction in heaven.  And I don't think we're going to be limited to certain kinds of fiction either.  I have this idea that God has sent us to this earth to build and to create and to hone the talents He has given us, and that these talents will be used in the next life as well.  I don't think that seems unreasonable.  Why shouldn't books continue?  I think that books, and fiction books/stories/etc. especially, provide another way for people to learn to become more like the Savior.  Let me explain: 

First of all, the Savior taught in parables.  He taught in parables because the stories could be understood on multiple levels.  In that way, I think, the best fiction of our day can serve the same purpose.  One of my favorite sections of the Doctrine & Covenants is about the apocrypha, where the Lord says that if you read it with the right spirit you will find truth - that not all of it is right, but that you can be uplifted.  There is a connection here in that stories help people to see things from different perspectives that they had not considered before. 

I was also reminded of 1st Nephi 19 when we are instructed to "liken the scriptures unto (ourselves)."  We are told to take these stories and apply them to our own lives.  "This is like when _______ had to do ______, I should try _______ to solve my own problem."  In that way, we are taking stories that are part of our culture and pulling from them lessons we need to know.  This is how other stories work - only in this case the stories are "physically true" as opposed to the stories that were "created truth."  

When it comes down to it, I think it is a matter of the Lord recognizing that people learn in different ways.  All things testify of Christ, but that doesn't mean we all recognize those ways.  We think differently.  We feel the spirit differently.  Those who are adept with science and math (unlike me) can look at the universe and the way it all fits together and know that God is in it.  I don't see those connections.  But I do see those connections in humanity in the books I read.  I learn by reading.  By putting myself into the fictional feet of other people.  Ender Wiggen.  Harry Potter.  Anne Shirley.  Jane Eyre.  Briony Tallis.  Lucy Pevensie.  Tom Sawyer.  Etc.  The lessons I have learned about humanity and perseverance from these good (and occasionally not so good) "people" could not have been created in other ways.  There is a place for storytelling in the universe.  An important place.  And while I admit to a definite bias as an English Teacher, and understand that there are many other ways to learn and to draw closer to the Lord, I will argue until I am blue in the face that fiction is important and that I don't believe it is only a mortal tool of learning.  Heaven wouldn't be much of a heaven at all if there wasn't entertainment.  Theater and music.  Discovery.  Moments of peace and reflection.  The sheer pleasure of sitting on a quiet beach with a book so gripping you simply can't put it down.