Priesthood Frustration

A few weeks ago I was sitting in Sacrament and someone got up to give a talk about priesthood. Honestly the whole thing just made me angry and I ended up leaving the room. It’s not that the speaker said anything particularly offensive or that they said anything necessarily inaccurate. It was that there was so much unsaid. And I understand that not everything on any topic can be said in 10-15 minutes…. It just came across so very rote, careless and blasé. Also, I understand not everyone is an amazing public speaker or gospel scriptorian, and obviously they had no intention of causing offense. However…

A lot of the ways the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-say Saints discusses the concept of priesthood and priesthood power and priesthood authority are changing. But they are changing slowly and in such a way that it often leaves people uncertain of how to reconcile old ways of thinking with new ways of thinking. Speaking from experience, it can even cause anger, confusion, doubt and depression. Which means your basic talk over the pulpit does little to address new ways of thinking. Most likely because it feels safe, and understood, unlikely to stand out, and with little chance of accidentally saying something wrong. And we have the tendency to avoid confronting our doubts or confusion publicly.

But this also does nothing to engage discussion or learning regarding those new aspects. It does nothing to change church culture. It does nothing to enable people to better understand and connect to the topic of the priesthood. The old rhetoric isn’t necessarily wrong, but it is incomplete. And it’s hard to discuss the new when you don’t fully understand it yourself. But how do we come to a state of understanding it and living it (as a whole, as a church, as a culture), if we don’t talk about it?

To say “only men hold the priesthood” without saying anything else to clarify the statement, is to deny the priesthood power available to women and children alike. Which at this point is damaging, in my opinion.

And to discuss only the priesthood of men without acknowledging the priesthood power of women, is also damaging, in my opinion. But by the same token, when people try to acknowledge that women have access to priesthood power it is usually in such a passing and fleeting way that it does little more than make it sound like a trivial, not doctrinally impactful, almost inconsequential after thought. Or just lip service. Which is just as damaging.

Omission is a powerful thing. Lack of balance is a powerful thing. And balance is difficult.

I remember in college hearing advice not to describe your children as “Jimmy is smart and Suzie is funny.” Because all your children hear is “I am not smart like Jimmy.” Or “I am not funny like Suzie.” And I think we forget the same phenomenon happens to us as adults. To say “fathers have the priesthood and mothers are nurturing” is to imply that men are not nurturing and mothers don’t have the priesthood. Is that really the message we want people hearing, feeling?

That’s hard advice to act on, because the sentiment in between the lines is usually closer to “Jimmy’s most obvious trait is that he is smart and Susie’s most obvious trait is that she is funny.” We don’t intend to say they don’t have both traits, or that they are incapable of either, or that they are any less because of their differences. And that is an easy way to translate that statement about mothers and fathers too. “Fathers more visibly utilize the priesthood, and mothers more visibly nurture” perhaps would be more accurate to say. 

Realistically I guess this is just one of those moments of Emily getting on a soap box about how words matter, and how we use them matter.. But I still maintain that if we were all a little more purposeful in how we speak, we would all be better understood and feel more understood.

A while ago I heard someone in a podcast point out that it is wrong to say “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only church with the whole or complete truth. Other churches have truth but they are incomplete.” By the very nature of believing in prophets and modern day revelation we are acknowledging that our church is also incomplete because it can still be added to at any time. The 9th article of faith reads “We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.” So let’s not forget to acknowledge and teach the things being revealed, even if it is easier to focus on the things revealed a long time ago. Sometimes that’s the only thing that keeps me going. That there is yet to be revealed.

“Pray Away the Gay”

Someone asked me the other day if I thought anyone has ever received a “cure” for being gay by praying for it to be so. I said probably not. Or at least not in the way people traditionally think. And I hope to explain better.

I think in reality that’s a hard question to answer. Obviously it’s a big wide world, and how different people perceive the idea of a “cure” obviously varies widely. When I first tackled the subject of my sexuality as a teenager, I certainly tried the “pray away the gay” approach. And there was a time when I would have told you it worked. But what I eventually realized was that what praying about it did for me, was begin to take away the anxiety that surrounded it. I say begin because I certainly made more progress with that in later years. I’m sure I still have progress to make.

My experience went something like this. I prayed about it. It didn’t go away. I prayed some more, it didn’t go away. So I studied, and I read talks and scriptures and I prayed some more. And I eventually came to the conclusion that God loved me as I was, and if he could love me as I was, I should be able to love me as I was too. 

And when I came to that realization, it felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. And I thought, “my prayer has been answered.” Because the weight was gone. But what was the weight? Was the weight feeling attracted to women, or was the weight how it made me question God’s love for me, and therefore my own love for myself? The prayer that was answered was that I felt loved again. I felt whole again. I felt at peace. And I could stop stressing and thinking about only one thing. I could be a whole person again with ten different things on my plate to think about without obsessing over any one aspect. 

The next logical question in this discussion, is whether God is even capable of “curing” how a gay person feels. Obviously everyone would answer this question differently. And I obviously don’t seek to offend.. I guess my first step in discussing this would be to define the word “cure.”

Traditionally we think of a cure as being a solution to a problem. Something that restores a person to the peak of health. Something that makes you normal again. 

So the fact that we talk about this in the context of homosexuality means that being gay is defined as a problem, something that deteriorates “health” or normalcy.

Well, what is homosexuality? A love and attraction for the same sex, yes? I don’t think that’s the problem. I mean, realistically, we’ve been commanded to “love” everyone, right? So what is the problem? I suppose the problem forms when you face making the decision as to whether or not to act on those feelings. In reality it’s only a “problem” when how you feel encourages you to act contrary to your values. So whether or not you view this as a problem depends on your values. So what is the “cure” in this scenario then? If feeling love and attraction isn’t the problem, but wanting to act on it is? With that perspective, a “cure” would not actually be a change in who I am or how I feel, but rather a change in whether or not I want to act on it. Right? I know that’s not a perfect answer for a lot of people.

The person I was discussing this with expressed the concern for what it would mean if God COULD “cure” homosexuality. Would a loving and just God willingly change who you are? What about agency? What about identity? 

I am personally of the camp that God cannot change who we are, or what we think. Nor would he even if he could. However, I think he can help us feel things that lead us to understanding. I think he can help us find meaning in the circumstances around us that lead us to new perspectives. I think he is a teacher and a guide that enables us to better discover and experience things for ourselves. I also think he can buoy us with strength when we feel ill equipped for the task at hand. But he does not force change we are unable to abide by. 

Someone said something interesting at church last Sunday regarding the commandment to “Be ye therefore perfect.” Replace the word “perfect” with the word “whole.” Through Christ we can be made “whole.” Now, when you think of being made perfect, you think of erasing all the mistakes and bad things so that the end result can be perfect. But when you think of the word “whole,” you don’t actually think of taking anything away. You think of adding to it, in order to make it perfectly whole again. And honestly, does something have to be perfect or rather cookie-cutter in order to be “whole”? I would say no. So then, the question becomes, how can we be added to, to make us whole if we don’t assume that aspects of ourselves need to be removed in order to be like Him? I think it’s a lot more wholesome to be reminded that there is more we can add to ourselves, instead of trying to think of what parts of ourselves should be removed to be “cured” of our perceived “imperfections.”

For me, I might say the “cure” was learning to love myself. And not just learning to love my gay self, but learning to love lots of aspects of myself. I remembered that I am not just a few parts. There are many parts to who I am, and all of them are needed to make me a whole, rounded human being. I could say so many things on this subject here that I fear I am oversimplifying and neglecting the various sides of this coin.

But I just wanted to say that being gay is not a disease that needs to be cured. It is not a problem that needs to be fixed. And praying for a “cure” to any trial is more likely to lead to an improved self understanding and a new perspective than a removal of what we are experiencing. Regardless of what the trial may be.

Coming Out vs Letting In

I recently observed a conversation where someone openly, and more importantly, unabashedly shared that they take antidepressants. I can’t exactly describe what about the moment was meaningful, but everything about that moment was seared into my memory. Their facial expression and the tone of their voice when they said it, and their apparent no-nonsense, calm and relaxed and confident attitude. A sense of gratitude even. There’s some adjectives missing there but I’m not sure what. But it was a wonderful moment. And maybe it didn’t mean anything for that person, but I hope it served as an equally important moment for other people observing this moment. I think that example of being unashamed is one that people need.

But what strikes me the most about this ties in well with a quote I came across the other day that was actually regarding the process of coming out as gay. It was along the lines of “it’s less about ‘coming out’ and more about letting people in.” And that rang really true for me. When I have shared personal details about my life with people, from abuse to indiscretions, to my sexuality, to religious doubts, its always been less about getting the information out there, and more about letting people past the walls to have hopes of a genuine relationship. 

I think one of the best things we can do for ourselves is to be unashamedly ourselves. I say that and yet I also know I have been called out for being too blunt. Certainly there is always room for growth and improvement while in that endeavor, but I just think that we can acknowledge we have flaws that could be improved, without being ashamed of them. 

I remember someone talking once about how they have multiple versions of themselves. Work-them versus church-them versus them-when-they-hang-out-with-Susie versus them-when-they-hang-out-with-Jane etc. I remember thinking that it sounded exhausting. And sure, while there are varying levels of depth with any one relationship… “the people I only talk about work with” versus “the people I make awkward small-talk with” versus “the people I have genuine conversations with” I hope it’s always still just the same old me every time. (Granted, there’s some wiggle room here. Because obviously some people bring out different aspects of our personalities more than others. But I think that’s less about controlling what side of ourselves people see, and more about being naturally amplified. If that makes sense.)

But there are few things as powerful as when you know you are witnessing one of those moments where people are “coming out” —or rather, are letting people in. I can’t think of very many things that make me feel as honored, as when I’m able to be in one of those moments with other people.

I had an experience once where I ran into a couple from church at a fast-food place. They sat down with me for a while and we chatted. I sort of knew the wife from church but had not publicly spent any time with the husband. That sounds awkward. And it was a little awkward. I knew the husband because we both attended the same addiction recovery program. Even if it wasn’t personal, he and I had both witnessed moments with each other of “coming out” or “letting people in.” Those raw, vulnerable sort of moments. But it meant that he felt safe being unabashedly himself with me. Which very clearly made the wife wonder what was going on, and what kind of secret history he and I might have had because that was not normal for him with someone he “didn’t know”. And officially he “didn’t know me.” I messaged her privately immediately after this encounter to share that I attended ARP because I knew he wasn’t going to tell her where he knew me, due to the whole anonymity of the program and all. And I didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable about the encounter. She immediately understood, and it relieved all the awkward tension lol. Interestingly enough, it also made it easier for the wife to be unabashedly herself with me too after that I think. Although she also wasn’t a very “abashed” type to begin with.

But isn’t that an interesting phenomenon to note? Even though he and I had never really spoken one-on-one before, we could be genuine with each other because we had a shared history of being genuine. Just seems like one of those things that if we all “came out” a little more often, we could help others amplify their ability to “come out” too. And we’d all have a bigger pool of people that we let in—if we all created a shared history of being unashamedly ourselves.