Do All You Can

The following letter is to be read by local leaders to their Fob congregations today, Sunday, June 29, 2008:

Dear Friends of Ben,

It has come to our attention that throughout the United States activists are fighting to corrupt traditional marriage and in doing so attacking the very fabric of our society. Today we ask you to do all you can to fight back, to ensure that the only legitimate definition of marriage is our definition, because it is a well-known fact that two different definitions of the same thing cannot coexist in the same country, or the entire universe will implode. It is for this reason that we ask you to set aside your ability to think for yourselves so you can campaign for the following political cause that we decree as just and holy.

As you know, in the recent past activist judges have legitimized so-called same-haircolor "marriages." This is unacceptable. The Book of Ben chapter 3 verse 19 clearly states that "he who lieth with another of the same hair color in the way that a dark-haired man lieth with a light-haired woman has sinned, and must be stoned to death." Now modern-day fobby scripture has revealed to us that the Book of Ben chapters 1 through 10 are no longer the Word of Ben, which is why we no longer stone sinners to death (well, mostly just because it's illegal, but we're working on that; see next week's official letter to be read in Fob congregations), but we know that the first part of that verse is still true. We know this because we have an icky feeling inside whenever we see dark-haired people kissing other dark-haired people. (Light-haired people kissing light-haired people, on the other hand, kind of turns us on--being dark-haired people ourselves, and thus righteously attracted to light-haired people--but we know this is very very very wicked and must be condemned publicly.)

Furthermore, we know that children deserve to be raised by one dark-haired parent and one light-haired parent. This is the way Ben intended it to be, and we know that because that's how it was on Leave it to Beaver. Children raised by two dark-haired parents or two light-haired parents will grow up to be either serial killers or cross-dressers, and really is there much difference between the two? Yes, we know that scientific research does not support this theory, but that's just because all scientists are pro-same-haircolor activists. Whatever you do, don't listen to them.

Now, some people have a problem with constitutional amendments that define marriage as between a dark-haired person and a light-haired person because these amendments are based on doctrines of the Fob religion, which apparently not every person in America believes in (yet). To these people we say Poo on you. Nah nah nah nah nah nah, we're not listening. Perhaps the founding fathers of our great nation (and the founding fathers of each state thereof) neglected to mention in their constitution(s) that marriage should only be between a dark-haired person and a light-haired person, but this was clearly an oversight. They didn't mention it not because they didn't intend it, but because they forgot to. We know this because we've rewritten history so that all founding fathers were believing Fobs, or would have been if they'd had a chance. We're giving them that chance now, by rewriting our nation's constitutions.

To our friends who have already slipped through the cracks of our country's legal system and have "married" people of the same haircolor and started "families" before we could make such an act unconstitutional, rest assured that this is all for your own good. Your "marriages" aren't real marriages and your "families" aren't real families anyway. If you had legal rights to your children, you would only use them to encourage them to be serial killers or cross-dressers (or both) anyway. You don't really want that, do you? Don't answer that. We don't want to know.

To our fellow Fobs who are same-haircolor-attracted but don't act on it, please know that we love you and think about you a lot--at least every time we have to fight for another constitutional amendment ensuring that you never ever marry each other. We know that you must live lonely lives while in this mortal existence, especially now that we've told you that you should no longer ignore your desires and marry an opposite-haircolored person, lest that marriage fail and you blame us for it (sorry to those of you who got married before we changed our mind on this one). So long as you never ever ever ever so much as think about kissing someone of your same haircolor, let alone "marrying" them, you'll live a tolerable life here, and we're pretty sure you'll be happy after you die. If you fail, you will be miserable for all eternity, but rest assured that Ben loves you anyway.

Signed with love and righteous affection,

Mr. Fob

To the 2%

Tonight FoxyJ sent me the link to this feature on religion in the United States in USA Today. Besides being a fascinating survey of religious beliefs and demography, and on top of that a wicked cool interface, the feature was well-timed for me in that Foxy sent it while I was stewing over this article I read tonight about the LDS Church, once again, telling its members to vote for anti-family legislation disguised in pro-family rhetoric. Seeing via USA Today that Mormons make up only 2% of California's population helped me put things in perspective and calm down a bit. I'm still angry that people feel that denying basic rights to families who don't fit an ideal invented in the 1950s is somehow Christlike or even humane, but at least the impact of this particular instance is limited by demography.

As for the small portion of that 2% of Californians who are Mormon who happen to read my blog, as well as any other Californians who may have a say in the anti-family constitutional amendment that the LDS Church believes so strongly should be passed, even if I believed I had the kind of power to make people do whatever I say, I wouldn't tell you to vote or campaign against this proposed amendment based solely on the fact that I say so. Rather, I ask only that you carefully study the facts before making any decisions, which is exactly what the LDS Church tells its members to do in situations not involving gay people marrying each other.

Gay people will couple up and raise children whether or not they're allowed to legally marry. The only thing denying them marriage rights accomplishes is to severely limit their ability to give their partners and their children the legal protections they deserve. My friend Scot, who is planning on legally marrying his husband of thirteen years (also the father of his two sons) next month, has put together articles on the statistical effects of same-sex unions, arguments for marriage equality, and the "ideal family" argument against same-sex marriage.

RU[X]LDS2?

A conversation in my Spanish class today, between Me and Dude I Suspected Of Being Mormon:

Me: Did you just learn Spanish in school or have you lived in a Spanish-speaking country?
DISOBM: Actually, I first learned Spanish when I was living in Central America for a couple years.
Me: Really? Where in Central America?
DISOBM: Honduras. Yeah, I was there from '01 to '03, then I went back and did a couple of internships in the summers of '04 and '05*.
Me: Cool. So those last two trips were internships. What were you doing the first time?
DISOBM: Oh, that first time I went as a religious missionary.
Me: LDS? [Assuming that if he's not he won't catch the reference.]
DISOBM: [Raising eyebrows] Yeah, are you LDS too?
Me: Yeah. Well, I used to be.
DISOBM: Cool.

[Later in the conversation...]

Dude I Now Knew Was Mormon: You said you used to be LDS? So, um, have you just not gone in a while or did you, you know, stop going?
Me: I left.
DINKWM: Like, when you were a teenager?
Me: No, just in the last couple years. I actually served a mission in Spain.
DINKWM: Oh, okay. I thought your Spanish was too good to have learned in school.
Me: Yeah, my wife is still actively LDS.
DINKWM: Have you joined some other church or organization now?
Me: No. I was attending the United Church of Christ for a while, but now I'm pretty agnostic.
DINKWM: It's funny. When you first walked in the room, I thought, that guy looks like he could be Mormon.

This is the first time I've had this conversation. Since leaving the church I've been a little nervous to meet Mormons and explain that I used to be one. I was worried that they would immediately grill me on why I left the church, looking for the concern they could resolve and bring me back into the fold. Or else, like, not want to talk to me at all. But at the same time, I knew that if I met a Mormon I'd want to let him or her in on the fact that we have a bit of shared history. I was relieved today that my classmate seemed just as happy as me to have something in common to talk about, and he didn't seem to feel a need to reconvert me, at least not in this first conversation.

As for me looking Mormon, I'm okay with that. It probably had to do with my recently cut and neatly combed hair, my clean shaven face, and the white undershirt showing beneath my collar. I happen to find that clean-cut Mormon missionary look attractive, so I'll take his associating me with it as a compliment.




*Dates have been changed to protect those lacking photographic memories.

Gay Mormons on YouTube

I saw references to these YouTube interviews with gay Mormon Clark Johnsen a few weeks ago, but didn't feel a strong desire to go see them. Yesterday Ron Schow suggested I watch them for a perspective on the whole gay men courting straight women issue, and I'm glad he did. I don't actively advocate gay people dating and marrying heterosexually (nor do I get the sense that Johnsen does), but if you're going to do it, this seems like the most honest way to go about it--Johnsen told her before asking her out the first time.

While I was popping around on YouTube, I also came across this interview with Lester and Barbara Leavitt, a couple I've heard of before but never looked into too deeply. They are former Mormons and he came out as gay a few years ago, after they'd been married for more than twenty years. I'm not entirely clear on their current marital status--I get the feeling that the video was made during a transitional stage in their relationship, but it appears they've now separated to pursue other paths while remaining friends. Apart from some overgeneralizing they've done in making statements about "the Church" when referring to stupid things local church authorities and members have done or said, what strikes me most about the video is the love they have for each other. Their strong relationship shows in how they talk about each other and how they interact. They seem like good folk to me.

Oh, and did you know I'm on YouTube? I am. It's nothing new--just last year's Fox13 interview with me and FoxyJ. It's nice to know it's on YouTube now so more people can make mean comments about us. It's okay, though--ignorant criticism is much easier to take than educated criticism.

It's a Small Gay Mormon World

A month or so ago I cataloged an anime movie called Akira. For some reason about half of the voice actors in the English dub of Akira use pseudonyms here that they pretty much don't use anywhere else. One of those is a guy credited as Jimmy Flinders, who IMDb says is really Cam Clarke. At the time I cataloged the video I checked the Library of Congress's Name Authority File and found no record for Jimmy Flinders and only one record with the name Cam Clarke. In the citation for that record Clarke is listed as the illustrator of a picture book adaptation of Carol Lynn Pearson's My Turn on Earth, which I thought was an interesting coincidence (because I happen to have seen that particular cornerstone of 70s Mormon pop culture), but also took as evidence that the Cam Clarke in LC's NAF was not my Cam Clarke aka Jimmy Flinders, voice actor for everything from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to He-Man: Master of the Universe.

So I set aside the info on Mr. Clarke until this week, when I finished the training that authorized me to create my own name authority records to be put into LC's file. As I did research in order to create a record for my Cam Clarke, though, I came across this Wikipedia article, which says that Clarke is best known in Latter-day Saint circles as the original "Jimmy Flinders," one of the lead characters of the other cornerstone of 70s Mormon pop culture, Saturday's Warrior. So he was Mormon, after all!

Then I came across this CD that Clarke recorded in the 90s, a collection of popular love songs recast from a gay perspective. Clarke, as it turns out, is a gay Mormon. (By which I mean that he has identified as gay for at least part of his life and he at least grew up Mormon, but I don't presume to say anything about his current identity in terms of the two things.)

He is also the stepbrother of Lex de Azevedo, popular LDS musician, which makes him the uncle of Rachel Coleman, the creator of Signing Time, a DVD series that S-Boogie watched nearly every day of the first two years of her life and of which Little Dude is now a devoted fan.

So I still don't know that voice actor/singer/gay Mormon Cam Clarke is the same as picture book illustrator Cam Clarke, but I do know that the former is related to Lex de Azevedo, who wrote the score for My Turn on Earth, and it's not unlikely that gay Mormon Clarke has some connection to Carol Lynn Pearson, the matron saint of gay Mormons everywhere. So I suspect the two are one and the same. I've emailed Mr. Clarke to ask him to clarify the issue, so hopefully he'll be kind enough to respond.

What I do know that I didn't know yesterday morning is this:

1. Leonardo is a gay Mormon.

2. He-Man is a gay Mormon.

(Apologies to L for the provocative pictures.)

I can't imagine anyone being very surprised about He-Man being gay. I mean really, all the man wears is furry underwear. Leonardo is a bit of surprise, as I would have suspected it first of his brother Donatello, but hey, for all I know, all four of them are. But it certainly never occurred to me that either He-Man or Leonardo might be Mormon. I'll tell you one thing for sure: neither of them went to BYU dressed like that.

Pride

Mr. Fob: You know, I've been realizing lately how important it is to me to be perceived as the "bad" kid--the one who's cooler than everyone else because he's above their petty rules.

FoxyJ: Huh. Do you think this need to rebel has to do with the fact that you didn't feel like you could be rebellious as a teenager?

Mr. Fob: Oh, I hadn't made that connection, but it makes sense.

FoxyJ: Yeah, it does.

Mr. Fob: Oh. Wow. I didn't realize this until just now, but that's exactly what "Getting Out"* was about--it was my "screw you" to conservative Mormons because as a gay man I'm marginalized and therefore better than them, and my "screw you" to liberal gays** because as a married gay man I was doubly marginalized and therefore better than them. Wow, I'm shallow.

FoxyJ: I don't think that's how people read it.

Mr. Fob: No, but that's how I meant it.

FoxyJ: I think it's valuable for gay Mormons to be aware of the tension that comes from existing in that space between homosexuality and Mormonism, from being both and yet neither.***

Mr. Fob: Yeah, but it's one thing to be aware of that tension and another to be proud of it.




*If it seems like I bring up "Getting Out" a lot, well, look at how many other titles I have listed under "Fobby Publications."
**Conservative Mormons/liberal gays, in case you don't know, is a false dichotomy.
***I don't think Foxy really talks this way, but I'm having a hard time reproducing her dialogue. Oh, for a constantly running tape recorder!

Gay (and Lesbian and Bisexual and Transgender and So On...) Mormon Terminology

The paper I wrote this past week on gender-inclusive terminology referring to homosexuality in the Library of Congress Subject Headings and Classification schedules has got me thinking about inclusive terminology in other contexts, particularly from where I stand currently as a post-Mormon gay man with one foot still in the gay Mormon blogosphere.

First, let me say that I hate the currently popular term MoHo for several reasons:

1. It's silly.
2. It sounds like you are saying that you are more of a whore than I am, which, if that's what you want to say, then fine, but if not, perhaps we should rethink this.
3. It doesn't do what people think it does. One of the big defenses of the term is that it puts Mormon before homosexual, thus showing that the former is more important to the identity of the user. That's nice, but that logic doesn't reflect the way the English language actually works. If you say that you are a tall man, that doesn't make you more tall than man. In English the adjective comes before the noun. The noun is who you are; the adjective is an attribute that describes you. By calling yourself Mormon homosexuals, then, you are actually making homosexual more important and more intrinsic to your identity than Mormon. Which, again, is fine if that's what you mean, but I don't think it is what those of you who follow Dallin H. Oaks's logic mean.
4. No self-respecting gay man or lesbian has called him or herself a homosexual (using the noun) in thirty years. The term is sterile, clinical, and inaccurate in its undue emphasis on sex. (Note to the rest of you: Yes, I do find it mildly offensive when you refer to "homosexuals.")
   
5. Yes, I know, you think you're being clever by inverting homo, but really, that cleverness doesn't redeem the term. Did I mention that it's silly?

When I wrote "Getting Out" a few years back, I thought I was coining the term gay Mormon. With such an obvious combination of terms, of course, it's hard to say who used it first, but clearly it wasn't a unique invention on my part. My reason for calling myself a gay Mormon was that I hated the clinical sound of the then-popular label SSA ("same-sex attraction," later replaced by SGA for "same-gender attraction") and I hated even more the verbs that generally accompanied it: "I struggle with SSA." "I suffer from SSA." Besides being inaccurate to my experience, these ways of expressing my orientation were too clunky for my tastes. Particularly if you incorporate the Mormon PC term for Mormon, you end up with "Latter-day Saint with Same-gender attraction" or "LDS with SGA," which are both horrible mouthfuls.

That said, I'm no longer convinced that gay Mormon is a good term to apply to the group of Mormons who experience same-gender attraction--it works fine for individuals, but used as a group label it excludes lesbian* Mormons, bisexual Mormons, transgender Mormons, and probably some others I'm not aware of. I've seen that play out in the case of lesbian Mormons here in the gay Mormon blogosphere (often called, more inclusively, the Queerosphere, but I think to be accurately descriptive it would have to be called the Mormon Queerosphere). I know of the following lesbian Mormon bloggers (or "female Latter-day Saints who blog about their same-gender attraction," if you prefer):

• Marmoreal
• Samantha
• Kim Mack
• Latter-gay Saint
• Lindsay
• (Please let me know if I've missed anyone.)
  

If you look at the list of links under "MoHo blogs" on the sidebar of L's blog, you'll realize what a small percentage of the Mormon Queerosphere this is, quite a bit smaller than you would expect from the commonly accepted statistic that there are about half as many self-identified lesbians as gay men in the population at large. I wonder why that is. I have a lot of theories, but one of them is that lesbian Mormons see what is apparently a boys' club and go elsewhere. Samantha, I know, has to constantly remind her fellow bloggers that there are not only men in the room and that the way they talk betrays that underlying assumption. You'll notice that particularly when gay Mormon men are talking about same-sex attraction as a problem to be overcome or about homosexual reparative therapy, their terminology assumes that this is an issue that affects only men.

Solving this problem will involve a lot more than changing the terminology we use--it will involve changing the way people think--but language is quite powerful in affecting the way we think so I'd say it's a good place to start. I'm not a fan of the term LGBT and all its variation, to be honest. Like LDS with SGA, LGBT Mormons is too clunky. Personally, I like Queer as an all-inclusive term, but I'm not sure how active Latter-day Saints might feel about the possible sociopolitical associations of a term like Queer Mormons. So, readers from the Mormon Queerosphere and readers from elsewhere (those of you who've made it this far), what do you think? What's the solution? Or is there a problem that needs to be solved in the first place?


*I am aware that many lesbians, including some of those I've linked to here, use the term gay to describe themselves. I have no problem with that, and even if I did it wouldn't be my place to tell people what they can and can't call themselves. The term is not inherently exclusive, but by default the general connotation is "gay men," so I believe, as do many lesbians, that it is at best ambiguous if not outright exclusive for lack of explicit inclusion.

Sources of Reliable Information

(Post #497)

On the way home from the park yesterday, S-Boogie said that she needed to go potty. This was a concern because we were a good twenty or thirty minutes from home, and because at the moment she was sitting on Tolkien Boy's shoulders. At TB's suggestion, he, his brother Bassercussionist, and I took Little Dude and S-Boogie into the first open bookstore to look for a restroom. We took a lightning quick tour of the store (much to the owner's concern), determined there was no restroom, and left. On the way out, though, the cover of this week's Seattle Weekly caught my eye. There was a man (boy?) with his face obscured, dressed in a white shirt and tie, reading the Book of Mormon--which is the thing that caught my eye, because it has a fairly recognizable cover (at least to those of us who have spent much of our lives reading it, carrying it around, and distributing copies in foreign countries). The headline read: "TEMPLE OF DOOM! One Man's Brutal Encounter With Sexual Abuse In the Mormon Church." My curiosity was piqued--more than anything by the blatant sensationalism--and the newspaper was free (which should tell you something about how credible it is as a source of reliable information [and come to think of it, this blog is also free...]), so I picked up a copy.

The article is... interesting. To be clear, the article is not about ritualistic sexual abuse in Mormon temples or even in Mormon churches, as the grandstanding title might lead you to believe. It's about a man who, as a boy, was repeatedly raped by a (Mormon) scoutmaster and is now suing the LDS Church for the role some local leaders played in protecting the scoutmaster from legal consequences for his actions. The article also mentions a handful of other cases where victims were encouraged by LDS bishops to essentially keep quiet about sexual abuse, rape, or assault--usually with the idea that we should forgive those who offend us or something like that.

I'm not sure I'm convinced this is as widespread a problem as the article claims; four or five cases spread out over many years do not make an epidemic. Four or five cases of a problem as appalling as this, though, are cause for concern in and of themselves, and are likely indicative of a larger problem. That problem, I believe, is that LDS bishops are not trained to deal with all the problems they are called on to deal with. Members expect them to be their personal source of divine communication and therefore experts on anything and everything. I know I did when, as a seventeen-year-old, I told my church leaders I was attracted to men. The first nervously laughed it off and suggested I join the football team because that would help me feel more manly (and then he passed on my confidential information without my knowledge or permission), and the second told me with complete confidence and authority that my same-sex attraction was a direct result of my poor relationship with my father and that it would be cured with counseling and faith. In both cases the leader sincerely wanted to help me and believed he was giving me accurate information, but the fact is that neither of them had the expertise to give me the answers I was looking for. Unfortunately, I was naive enough to believe that whatever my church leaders told me must be true.

I imagine this happens not only in the cases of sexual abuse and homosexuality, but in all sorts of issues. There are probably bishops who tell drug addicts that all they need is faith and willpower or abused wives that they just need to be more patient with their husbands. A friend of mine who was at the time an elders quorum president once asked me why a bishop would ever refer someone to a therapist or marriage counselor. "Isn't the Atonement enough to cure any problem?" His question came from a position of faith, which I respect, and naivety, which I understand, so I don't fault him for it. The problem, though, is that this man is just as likely as any other to be called as a bishop. Yes, I allow for divine inspiration overcoming ignorance in many cases, but the fact is there are still bishops and other church leaders who give stupid and even harmful counsel because they don't know any better.

I'm not sure what the best solution is. Giving leaders better training on how to handle reports of abuse is definitely a priority--and perhaps steps have already been taken in this direction--but that still leaves the 999 other problems they need better training to deal with. Heaven knows people in leadership positions in the LDS church already have more training meetings than they have time for. Perhaps that's the solution--give them more time. As much as I love the idea of the church's unpaid clergy, perhaps what the church really needs is some leaders who don't have to split their time between church callings and a full-time job, so they can receive the training they need to better serve their wards and actually meet the heavy expectations placed on them. I wouldn't attempt to tell the church how to run itself, particularly from my current position outside the church, but I think this is a problem that I hope any current or future LDS leaders who happen to read this blog will work to find solutions for.

My primary concern when it comes to the LDS church lately is my children. It's important to FoxyJ to raise them in the church and I have no intention of interfering with that. I don't want to see them get hurt by well-meaning but under-informed members of the church, though. In this particular case I take comfort in the fact that FoxyJ has never subscribed to the kind of naive faith that led me to put more trust in my leaders than in my own conscience. Hopefully her more level-headed approach to faith will rub off on our children.

Oh, and lest I leave you hanging, rest assured that we made it home, ate dinner, and showed Tolkien Boy and Bassercussionist all our toys and drawings and our sleeping bag before S-Boogie decided that it was time to actually go potty. Her panties--and Tolkien Boy's shoulders--remain dry and clean.

Transitioning

Things I appreciate about my Mormon upbringing now that I'm attending another church:

1. Having dedicated 10% of my income to tithing all my life, contributing a little to the donation plate passed around each week is no sacrifice for me.
2. Having attended Sunday school all my life and four years of seminary, I have a pretty good grasp of the Bible.
3. My copy of the Bible has wicked-cool cross-references and a Bible dictionary and topical guide that make me appear smarter than I am. Today in Sunday school someone asked if John's use of the phrase "firstborn from the dead" in Revelation is unique, and I quickly found the same phrase in Colossians.
   

Things I don't appreciate so much about my Mormon upbringing now that I'm attending another church:

1. Having paid tithing with checks that I wrote out ahead of time all my life, I don't think to bring cash to church and don't know if they'd take a check even if I had one on me.
2. Having studied the Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants alongside the Bible in Sunday school and seminary, I have a hard time sorting out what comes from where.
3. Those wicked-cool cross-references, Bible dictionary, and topical guide also tend to mix together Mormon doctrine and Biblical doctrine--because, of course, within Mormon doctrine the distinction is unimportant, as it is believed to come from the same source. Today in Sunday school when the teacher pointed out that based on historical evidence the John in Revelation is not likely John the Apostle, I flipped to Revelation of John in my Bible dictionary because I'd always thought the two Johns were one and the same and read there: "The Book of Mormon confirms that the recipient was John, one of the Twelve." Which, you know, doesn't hold a lot of weight if you don't consider the BoM scripture.

The balancing act here is trying to hold onto the good things about Mormonism while shedding off the bad (meaning that which I find to be bad for me), clinging onto the good I find elsewhere while not assuming everything is good simply because it's not Mormon. It's an interesting experience.

And then, of course, there's always the possibility that this unresolved pain in my chest is God's way of threatening to strike me down for leaving his one true church.

Dogma

Friday night I watched Dogma with my brother Svoid and his girlfriend Yodame. Aside from problems I had with some of the acting*, I enjoyed the movie for its humor and for its commentary on religion. The movie seems to revolve around a tenet stated by Rufus, the thirteenth apostle**, that the problem with organized religion is that they've taken a great idea and ruined it with a bunch of beliefs.

I've spent the last couple years continuing to attend the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because... well, for a lot of reasons, but largely because I like many of the ideas behind the church, despite the fact that I am bothered by many of the beliefs. This morning I attended a local congregation affiliated with the United Church of Christ. I had come across the church while reading Hurricane's blog, where he presented it as a place that people come together to worship God without any expectations of a shared set of beliefs. Hurricane explained that the thing that unites the members of the UCC is "a common commitment to faith, broadly defined, and community." His positive experience with the church, together with what I read on its website, made me hesitantly hopeful that this church might be the right place for me.

So this morning I walked into the University Congregational Church, accompanied by my supportive friends Tolkien Boy and Sir Jupiter, and we found our way to the small Sunday school*** class on the second floor, where six gentlemen and a lady, all but one of whom were over sixty, were gathered to study the first epistle of John. The class welcomed us in and we proceeded to read and discuss faith, testimony, and spirit. The class, like many good LDS Sunday school classes I've attended, involved a teacher leading a discussion in which all class members were encouraged to participate, sharing their thoughts and experiences. What impressed me most about the class was the answer to a question Sir Jupiter asked:

"Do you believe each person has a spirit that will live on after we die?"

"Well," the teacher answered, "the Bible isn't conclusive on that matter. Different parts, in fact, seem to contradict each other." He went on to talk about various interpretations that could be made based on different passages, and how surrounding cultural assumptions might have affected various biblical writers' views on matters of body and spirit.

I appreciated that he did not have a straight answer for Sir Jupiter. He didn't claim to know anything he didn't know. He didn't recast some biblical passages to jibe with others, or to jibe with any set of extratextual doctrines.

I honestly don't mean to bash the LDS Church here. I don't intend to portray Mormons as dogma-crazed zealots who can't admit that there are some things we just don't know. Gordon B. Hinckley himself would just as readily admit there are things he doesn't know as the teacher did this morning. In my experience, though, I have often felt that in order to accept Mormon doctrine I had to do all sorts of mental acrobatics to explain away or ignore not only the complexities of the Bible, but the complexities of my life. And if I did not accept the doctrine, I didn't feel I could participate fully in the community.

Which is more to the point. I didn't even fully realize this until a couple weeks ago, but attending the LDS Church for the past couple years has been hard on my spirit. I haven't felt like I belonged because I didn't share in the beliefs I was expected to, and I haven't felt like church brought me any closer to God because I spent most of my time focusing not on the things I shared with fellow believers but on the differences between me and them that seemed insurmountable. I don't blame this on anyone but myself, but the fact is that I haven't felt the Spirit while at church in years.

This morning as I sat in the worship service after Sunday school and listened to the choir sing the Lord's Prayer, I wept. To be honest, I'm hesitant to equate crying with feeling the Spirit because I've criticized others for doing so and I had a lot of other reasons to be crying this morning, but at the very least I felt something. For the first time in a while, I was able to set aside the question of beliefs and latch onto the great idea at the center of Christianity--that there is a God who knows and loves me, who hears my prayers, and who, through the atonement of Jesus Christ, can make right the wrongs I've done and help to bear not only my pain, but the pain of those I've hurt.



*To be fair, my problem was that many of the characters didn't seem to act naturally, but I can't say I'm a great judge of how one would act naturally if one were told by the Voice of God that one is to go to New Jersey to stop two fallen angels from walking into a cathedral and thus negating all existence. Or, for that matter, how one would react naturally to the attack of a crap demon.

**Played by Chris Rock, of course.

***They call it Christian Education.

Calling

The bishop asked me to meet with him Thursday evening. I was a little anxious because I knew he wanted to give me a calling, which meant I'd have to explain to him where I currently stand with the church. Knowing that ahead of time, though--and knowing for the past few months that this conversation would come sooner or later--gave me time to plan ahead how I'd respond.

I continue to attend church in order to support FoxyJ and to be involved in this part of our children's lives, but I don't believe the LDS church has any more claim to truth than any other religion or philosophy. When I asked to be released from my calling in the elders quorum presidency and stopped attending the temple, I felt more at peace with myself than I had in years. A year and a half later, I continue to feel that peace with my decision, despite the difficulty and heartache I know it causes FoxyJ and other faithful Mormons who love me. This continual resolve is significant for me, the man who spends his life questioning every decision he's ever made.

Regardless of my commitment to this sort of Christian agnosticism, though, I've been feeling a little guilty lately for not contributing anything to the church in the way of service. The LDS church, after all, functions only through the efforts of volunteer clergy, where every single member is essentially a member of said clergy. And whether or not I believe in the organization's doctrine, I can't deny that it does a lot of good, particularly for my family. The weight of moving to a new city, away from family and most of our friends, has been lifted tremendously by the built-in support network of the local ward. Basically, I've been feeling like a freeloader.

So when the bishop asked me to serve in a clerical position (i.e. one that wouldn't require me to teach anything I don't believe), I told him more or less all of the above, then said that I'd be willing to accept the calling if he still wanted to give it to me. He said he was (in fact he didn't seem surprised in the least), so long as I'm living according to LDS standards. Being as how I despise the taste of coffee and extramarital sex would be sort of counterproductive to making my marriage work, I told him I am living worthily by that definition, and will continue to do so.

So I have a calling. Assuming, that is, that when the bishop proposes that I be sustained, no one in the congregation objects*. Truthfully, I feel better about this calling, knowing that I was completely honest about my reservations before accepting it, than I have about any other calling I had under the pretense of complete faith.


*This is not entirely impossible, as only a few weeks ago a woman gave a talk encouraging ward members to not be afraid to raise their hands and speak when they object to a calling, and I'm getting the distinct impression that there are members of the ward who know a lot more about me than I have personally told them--which comes as no surprise, all things considered.

Fobsvithing on the Sabbath

I was going to start this blog post by pointing out that today is Sunday and I am posting from work, but as it turns out I actually spent my time at work today working, which means that I am now posting from home. The moral of the story, though, is that today is the fifth Sunday in a row that I have not attended church because I was working. Ironically*, the last job I had that required me to work on Sundays was at BYU, where the insistence of dorm-living freshmen on eating daily forced us to open the cafeteria on the Sabbath. Never fear, though: on Fast Sundays we opened only for dinner, ensuring that even the non-Mormons fasted through lunch.

Working at the library on Sundays has led to two realizations:

1. I kind of sort of miss church. The main reason I told FoxyJ I'd attend church with her as long as she wants to keep going is so that she is not stuck in the position of having to deal alone with two children during sacrament meeting, but I'm finding there is value to attending church services even if I don't necessarily subscribe to all the tenets of LDS doctrine. Yesterday as I read an essay by Molly Welker on why she attends Sunstone symposiums (symposia?) despite the fact that she left the Mormon church years ago, I was surprised to find that many of her reasons for attending Sunstone are my reasons for attending church. She says:

That's what Sunstone offers me: a forum where I can work to identify and embrace the elements of my religious training that help me live with greater spiritual awareness and maturity, which, admittedly, is something you can do at Church. But Sunstone also offers me a forum where I can ask if there have been elements of my training as a Mormon that get in the way of spiritual maturity, which is something you really can't do at Church. For me, it's about deciding, as consciously and deliberately as possible, what I want to keep and what I want to lose--and in order to do that, it helps to be around people who recognize some value in Mormonism to begin with, who don't think religion as a whole and Mormonism in particular are a waste of time.

Except in my case, I do find that church is a place I can ask if there are elements of my Mormon training that get in the way of spiritual maturity. I just keep the asking to myself. For the past year I have found myself somewhat distanced from the crowd in church meetings, which takes away from the sense of community I once enjoyed, but it also gives me a cognitive distance that allows me to consider for myself which principles I agree with and which ones I don't. It's easier to build an individual belief system around the framework of an existing group belief system, removing pieces here and adding pieces there, than it would be to start from scratch. As I've been figuring out what I believe over the past year, continuing to attend church has helped me avoid throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

2. I think I believe in the principle of the Sabbath. Working seven days a week (well, working five and going to school the other two, which is in effect the same thing) is too much. I enjoy having a day off to spend with my family. The weekend rotation at the library is such that I'll be off a couple Sundays in November, then all the Sundays in December. I'm going to see what I can do about avoiding the Sunday part of the rotation next quarter. And if I don't want to work on Sundays, it only seems fair of me not to require it of others, so I'm going to make a greater effort to avoid shopping or other activities that make people work on Sundays. Of course, if I don't work Sundays next quarter, then I am asking my coworkers to do so, so maybe I'll have to rethink this. Hm.

3. This realization has nothing to do with working on Sundays, but it is another Mormon principle I'm finding that I agree with. Coffee is the nastiest-tasting beverage on the face of the planet. Why on earth do people drink the stuff voluntarily?


*I'm always nervous to use this word, because no doubt someone will point out that the situation I'm referring to is in fact not ironic in the correct sense of the term; if such be the case, rest assured that, like Alanis Morrisette, I am using the term ironically ironically. Isn't it ironic?

Fobsvithe: What's My Problem?

20 And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity, and the water of affliction, yet shall not thy teachers be removed into a corner any more, but thine eyes shall see thy teachers:
21 And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee saying, This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye turn to the left.

Isaiah 30: 20-21 (KJV)

My Lord will provide for you meager bread and scant water. Then your Guide will no more be ignored, but your eyes will watch your Guide; and, whenever you deviate to the right or to the left, your ears will heed the command from behind you: "This is the road; follow it!"

Isaiah 30: 20-21 (New JPS Translation,
because sometimes two translations are better than one)

Thanks to everyone who commented on the last post. Katria (whose name I still need to update on my sidebar) makes a great point--the actual interview is not as offensive as the article makes it sound (due, I'm sure, not to any malicious intent on the author's part, but rather to the nature of summarizing). I will freely admit that I was already angry before I read the words of the interview, and that anger colored my perception, so don't assume that I've reported anything accurately or objectively; if you care about Dallin H. Oaks's opinion on homosexuality, go read his words yourself.

The experiences and feelings Mark shared helped me get a little closer to figuring out exactly what I'm feeling, and even Anonymous (who is not as anonymous as he might think he is, thanks to Site Meter, and could learn a thing or two from his fellow commenters on how to disagree respectfully without being confrontational or rude) made a valid point or two, despite his characteristic ability to attribute meaning to my words that I explicitly stated was neither my intention nor my belief.

What I concluded this afternoon is that I attach so much importance to what LDS leaders do or don't say about homosexuality because I have been doing something the LDS church did a good job of teaching me not to--trusting in the arm of flesh. I wanted validation from people who I believed to speak for God; I wanted them to tell me that what I was doing was right, that God approved. This is silly. I know very well that God approves of my choices--or at least I know just as well as anyone can. I don't need an ecclesiastical leader to tell me something I already know. I know I'm on the right path, because at each step, at each turn in the road, I've heard a voice behind me saying, "This is the road; follow it!"

Yes, this is the bed I've made, or rather it's the bed God helped me make. I will gladly sleep in it.

Good night.

Excuse Me While I Rant

First, a disclaimer or two:

• I did not get married under any illusion that marriage would change my sexual orientation.
  
• I did not marry Foxy J because the Mormon church told me to. I decided to get married--in a general sense, before I actually had any real live prospects--largely because I felt that marriage was expected of me as a good Mormon boy, both doctrinally and culturally, and because I had been taught that marriage was the option that would lead to the greatest happiness, but I chose to marry Foxy J specifically because I loved her and wanted to be with her and I felt, independently of the church, that marrying her was the choice that would lead to my greatest happiness.
• I do not regret having made that decision. To the contrary, I am quite in love with Foxy and our two children and am quite happy with my life.
  
• I do not hate the LDS church or believe it is evil or wish its leaders any harm. It is a good organization that does many good things, and I recognize that many people I love and admire believe its leaders to be inspired by God. In fact, I don't even fully disagree with that belief. I hope none of you will take offense at the following post. Please believe that none is intended.

Now that I've gotten logic out of the way, allow me to dump on you my emotional response to a newspaper article I read today.

In one of the first drafts of "Staying In," I expressed some anger at Gordon B. Hinckley, current president of the LDS church, over some comments he'd made in an interview with Larry King. I was frustrated by President Hinckley's response to King's question about the cause of homosexuality: "I don't know. I'm not an expert on these things. I don't pretend to be an expert on these things. The fact is, they have a problem."

"How can you say you don't know?" I demanded of him. "How can you shrug it off so easily? Don't you realize how many thousands of people are relying on you to 'be an expert on these things'? Maybe you're not an expert, but you supposedly represent someone who is. If you don't know, then ask God. That's your job. Don't go on national television telling me you can't help me because you aren't an expert on my 'problem.'"

Th. and Queen Zippergut (I don't remember whether Melyngoch agreed or disagreed with them) wisely advised me to remove the attack on the leader of the Mormon church from the article I intended to publish in a journal read almost exclusively by Mormons. I did. But I still thought it. And now I'm throwing their prudent advice out the window.

I have gotten basically this same vibe from any statement on homosexuality made by any leader of the LDS church. "Don't look at me," they say. "I don't know. All I know is, you better not let two men get married. That's bad." A couple years ago Foxy and I attended an Evergreen conference. Some General Authority (a term used to describe the central leadership of the LDS church), I don't remember who, spoke at the conference. He prefaced his talk with the following (and I paraphrase liberally):

"I'm sure you're expecting me to give a talk pertaining to your particular situation [meaning homosexuality, as this was a conference specifically for homosexual Mormons, and we all had paid a good chunk of money to come and learn more about homosexuality]. Well, guess what? I'm going to recycle a talk I gave last week at a singles' fireside, because there's nothing special or unique about your situation. [And, by the way, I wouldn't have the faintest clue of what to say about homosexuality because, frankly, the very word makes me uncomfortable.]"

As I read Dallin H. Oaks's comments about homosexuality (in the interview mentioned in the Salt Lake Trib article linked above), I grew furious. Basically, this is the LDS church's position on homosexuality:

• Homosexual relationships will lead only to misery and despair.
• Gay marriage is very very bad. No, make that very very very bad. [Emphasis mine.]
  
• You're welcome to try change-oriented therapy, but chances are it won't work, so we don't officially condone it.
• Marriage is probably a bad idea, and basically I wouldn't risk my daughter on one of you, but if you find someone who's willing to take you, then go ahead. Good luck. Just don't blame us when it doesn't work.

When it comes to homosexuality, the church has a lot to say about what not to do, but very little about what to do. It seems like the current recommendation is to live a life of celibacy, but then you take the apocryphal Brigham Young quote about unmarried men over 27 being menaces to society, and you're left with no options. Apparently the whole marriage-is-required-for-exaltation thing doesn't apply to gay Mormons. Or maybe we were just less valiant in the preexistence, so we'll have to settle for the Terrestrial Kingdom. Maybe we should just build a fence. I don't understand how people can be so damn sure about gay marriage being such an awful, horrible thing that the Church has to make official pronouncements urging members to vote to make it unconstitutional, yet no one is willing to offer a viable alternative.

What it comes down to is this: The LDS church taught me that heterosexual marriage is the only way to achieve ultimate happiness in this life and the world to come. They taught me that God wants all his children to marry and have families. So I said, despite sexual inclinations leading me in another direction, "What the hay, I'll give it a go." Then once I made that decision, they cut the ropes, washed their hands, and offered me no real support specific to my needs.

"But Master Fob," you might say, "you just said that you're happily married. It sounds like you're making it work, with or without support from LDS church leadership." And that, my friends, is exactly the point. When I realized that Gordon B. Hinckley was not going to offer me any real direction pertinent to the one thing I've struggled most with--my attempt to reconcile my sexual drive with my relationship to God and my desire to live morally--and that any direction I was going to get in that area would have to come straight from God, I began to question what purpose the prophet really did serve. I wouldn't say that he serves no purpose at all. Like many other good men and women who do their best to serve God, he serves as a reminder of to whom we should look for direction. Until he offers something more than a list of Thou Shalt Nots to the thousands and thousands of gay Mormons who look to him as a shepherd, though, I refuse to believe that he is anything more than just that--a good man doing his best to serve God.

Thankfully, I don't have to rely on his best. He's not an expert on these things, you see. In the meantime, I'll keep trying to talk to someone who is. I'll let you know when I figure it out.

Gay Mormon Fobs

I am hesitant to segregate my friends by sexual orientation, but I have decided to do so, more or less, in my sidebar. The names you will find linked under the title "Gay Fobs," though, are not the names of every gay blogger I know. Rather, these are blogs that tend to be, for the most part, focused on issues related to homosexuality and particularly--in most cases--the intersection of sexuality and religion. Think of it in terms of the Dewey decimal system: if a blog would be catalogued as, for example, 921 Bunny, you will not find it linked under "Gay Fobs" because it is a biographical blog, not one focusing on sexuality. However, a blog that focuses on sexuality and therefore would be catalogued under something like 306.766 Sw24 will be found under that catchy heading.

The main reason I've decided to do this is that it occurs to me that people may be coming to my blog hoping to find a blog about being gay and Mormon, and while that is one of the things I blog about, it is not the focus of my blog. Those people, then, can find what they're looking for at the designated links.

I've not made any distinction as to marital status or current affiliation with the Church, by the way--anyone who self-identifies as gay and has some tie to the Mormon church or Mormon culture qualifies. If you don't like being classified as a gay Mormon Fob, let me know and I'll make the change. (It occurs to me, of course, that of the three terms--gay Mormon Fob--the one you object to might be "Fob." You are welcome to notify me of this objection. Just do so nicely.)

Mormonism and Me: The Shocking Truth About the Self-Made Poster Boy for Married Gay Mormondom

When Another Other emailed me after reading my essays on being gay, married, and Mormon to tell me how much he identified with what I said, I felt obligated to quickly dispell any false ideas about my religious beliefs the essays written two years previous might have given him. Oddly enough, "coming out" about my religious status is even more unnerving for me than coming out about my sexual orientation ever was. I have this notion that people will not like me if I tell them how I really feel. Thankfully, AO was quick to point out how silly it was of me to think that we couldn't be friends just because I don't fully subscribe to the same dogma he does. I hope you'll do the same.

See, the shocking truth about the self-made poster boy of married gay Mormondom is that I'm not really Mormon. Well, I am, but I'm not. Like everything else about me, it's complicated.

I've talked about my religious turmoil here before, but it's been a while and I think people tend to take the fact that I'm still going to church regularly and appearing in newspaper articles whose headlines profess my supposed religious affiliation as an indication that whatever doubts I had have passed and I am once again as Mormon as they come (and then, you know, there are a couple people who haven't read every blog post I've ever written--may God have mercy on your poor souls). I'm not entirely bothered by this assumption, but at the same time it's not entirely true.

I have questioned several tenets of the LDS church since I was in high school. Among the things I've questioned are the historical veracity of the Book of Mormon, the exclusive claim to prophetic revelation, and the mixed message you-can-pray-and- receive-your-own-personal-revelation- but-if-it-contradicts- official-church-doctrine- then-it's-wrong philosophy, but always central to my doubts about the church was the contradiction between what the church taught about homosexuality and what my instincts told me. At each major decision point--when I chose to go to BYU instead of a non-church university, when I decided to go on a mission, each of the 600+ times I decided to stay on my mission, when I decided to get married--I prayed and received what I interpreted to be confirmation that I should put the doubts aside and proceed according to plans. I believe that some of these confirmations came from God, and I'm not opposed to the idea that all of them came from him, but really who knows? Basing life decisions on feelings and faith is the only way to go sometimes, but it leaves a lot of room for second-guessing later.

Almost two years ago now, all these doubts came to a head when I decided that I was unhappy with my life and surely this gay, Mormon, and married thing just wasn't meant to work. I saw before me two choices: stay in the church and stay married to Foxy J, or leave both of them. The problem was that I simply couldn't convince myself that leaving my wife was the right thing to do, but the more I thought and prayed about it, the more I felt the church wasn't everything it claims to be. Sorting out what I wanted from what I believed from what I thought I should want or believe was nearly impossible. When a simple question about the truth of a religious dogma carries with it not only the question of church attendance but also your marriage, your family, and your entire life, it's suddenly not a simple question at all (if it ever was). Eventually what I had to do was decide what I wanted in regards to my marriage, regardless of what the LDS church said I should or shouldn't do, in order to take the weight off the religious question. So that's what I did.

Without my marriage hanging in the balance, the answers to the religious question came more clearly. I found that all the doubts I had about the church were genuine concerns, that they were not merely an excuse to justify something else I wanted. I asked to be released from my callings because I didn't believe some of the things I was expected to teach others. I decided to continue attending the LDS church in support of my wife's beliefs, and found that many things that had bothered me about the church no longer did. I could disagree privately and let others believe what they chose to, and it was okay. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being completely honest with myself and others.

I believe in God. I don't know that he exists, but I have seen enough evidences of his existence and his love for me to feel it would be foolish to say he's an imaginary construct invented to make us feel better about ourselves. I suspect that God is more complicated than any single religion can grasp, but I believe most religions, as long as they're trying to make people better and happier and discouraging them from hurting each other, are good. I don't know what God thinks about homosexuality in general, and I don't care because I know that for me, the right thing to do is to be faithful to my wife.

I'm not opposed to being called Mormon or even calling myself Mormon because I have been Mormon all my life, and I do attend the Mormon church every Sunday and really, just like "gay," I can make the label mean whatever I want it to. Words are words--they have only the meaning we attach to them. Even though I don't believe the LDS church is the one true church, I still think and act in very Mormony ways. I learned how to approach God through the LDS church, and I see no reason to change that. When I pray I pray like a Mormon. When I interpret answers to prayers I use the methods taught to me in Mormon Sunday school. When I think of God I envision a very Mormon God, much like you'd find in any painting of Joseph Smith's first vision. I don't know that the God I'm imagining looks much like the one who actually exists, but I'm not sure it matters.

In the end, there's only one God even if Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, Jews, Mormons and Pseudo-Mormons pray to him in different ways and call him different names. I don't think he cares whether I call myself Mormon and gay or Branch Davidian and quadrisexual; I imagine he's much more concerned with what I do and who I am. So here's hoping that whatever I call myself, I'll be a good husband, father, brother, friend, yadda yadda yadda, and a decent person.

And I hope we can still be friends.

Gender Identity Confusion

Take a look at this list of problems the BYU Comprehensive Clinic helps with.

Call me naive, but I don't think there are enough transgender students or even transgender-inclined students at the Y to warrant mention on such a list. Homosexuality, on the other hand, which is not otherwise mentioned on the list, is one of the biggest concerns at the BYUCC. I think it's safe to conclude that there's a new Mormon PC term for gay.

So the true reason I'm attracted to men is that, deep down, I'm confused about whether I'm a man or a woman. And to think I didn't even know it! Silly me.

Democratic Religion

We'll call this my svithe for the week.

Today a visiting high councillor spoke in our ward about how we should be grateful that we don't have to make decisions for ourselves because we have prophets to make them for us, and how we are unfaithful if we do not obey every single word of advice given to us by a prophet, area authority, stake president, bishop, or home teacher, to the letter. Really, I am not making this up or exagerrating. That's what he said. I was happy to be distracted by S-Boogie's new markers.

Believe it or not, this post is not about everything that I think is wrong with the Mormon church. Actually, this post is about one of the things I like about the Mormon church: its democratic approach to religion. Now, you may be saying, "Hey, wait, isn't the Mormon church governed by a patriarchal hierarchy?" and you're right, it is, and the emphasis a lot of Mormons put on that hierarchy bothers me. However, the church--and even its hierarchy--is built around the idea that any and every person can receive personal revelation from God, and therefore nobody is more of an authority on theology than anyone else. People serve in positions of authority, but not because they're any more important or knowledgeable than anyone else; in the Mormon paradigm, God calls you one day to be a bishop and the next to be a janitor. It is assumed, therefore, that any individual with access to the scriptures and, more importantly, the willingness to pray and listen to God, can be as much of a theologian as the next guy or gal. I've read that the church was even more democratic in the days of Joseph Smith, but I don't have any facts to back that claim up at the moment, and it's irrelevant anyway.

What does all this mean? It means that I have to sit through a talk by a guy who I think is an idiot. But it also means that Sister Smith down the row from me, who thinks that same guy is the best thing since buttered toast, gets the chance to hear his talk and be edified. And it also means that after that I can go to elders quorum and enjoy a lesson taught by a guy who I think is a genius, even if everyone else in the class thinks his stories about dating Dallin H. Oaks's daughter are a waste of time. It means that a bunch of imperfect people can get together and share our thoughts about God, with the assumption that we all have the right to have those thoughts.

I suspect there are other churches out there who take such a democratic approach to theology without requiring their adherents to subscribe to any set dogma (this is probably why so many ex-Mormons become Unitarians), but for now, while I'm still participating (albeit reservedly) in the Mormon church, I enjoy what democracy they have to offer. I'm grateful that God gave me a mind and that he expects me to use it to make decisions for myself, not to let others do so for me. And I'm glad I'm not alone in feeling this way.

Untitled

Several months ago, when I felt that I could no longer conscientiously teach things I didn't believe and I was tired of finding ways to teach Mormon elders quorum lessons while skirting around the parts of Mormon doctrine I no longer believed, I talked to the elders quorum president and asked to be released from my calling as his counselor. He was distraught by my loss of testimony, but he understood that I was doing what I felt right about and graciously accepted my resignation. (As a sidenote, EQP is a muy cool dude.) When EQP explained this to the counselor in the stake presidency who is over him, though, President M told EQP that because he (Pres. M) had made the calling, I would have to talk to him (Pres. M) if I wanted to be released. When EQP explained this to me, I told him that I didn't particularly want to defend my decision to Pres. M, who I didn't know very well but from my limited experience with him seemed like a rather forceful sort of fellow, but if EQP needed me to do so in order to call a new counselor in my place, I would. EQP said he'd rather wait a few months, letting me take an unofficial hiatus from my responsibilities without officially releasing me just in case I changed my mind. I said okay, let me know when you need me to talk to Pres. M.

Sunday night I got a call from Pres. M's secretary. Pres. M wanted me to come talk with him Wednesday night. I've been a little nervous all week for the aforementioned reasons, but I took hope in the fact that both EQP and the bishop had reacted respectfully when I told them that I am, in fact, still reading the Bible and praying, and I am doing what I believe God wants me to, and I have no intention of doing anything without checking first with God. I was still wary, though, about Pres. M's aforementioned forceful personality. I'm not very comfortable with men in authority-type positions, anyway, and to be in a potentially confrontational situation with one isn't my idea of fun.

As it turns out, it really wasn't horrible. Pres. M, like most people, is a good man with good intentions. He expressed concern for me, warned me not to let unresolved sins or offenses from church members cloud my judgment, all good advice. He asked what specific objections I have to church doctrine, though, and that's when things started going downhill. I stumbled over a prophets this and a Book of Mormon that, but managed to say nothing coherent. The problem, I realized later, is that my logical objections to Mormon doctrine are minimal and ultimately irrelevant. What it comes down to is simply that I no longer feel that the church is all it claims to be. And how can one approach religious truth except through feeling?

So there I am, stuttering incomplete sentences about trivial bits of doctrine I find illogical, and Pres. M looks at me and says, "You know, Brother Fob, I teach science. I understand logic. But if I preached science and logic from the pulpit, I'd be stoned. Sometimes you just have to do what God tells you to, even if it's not logical."

I stared back at him. I really really wanted to say:

"I know. Damn. Well. What it means to do something because it feels right, because that's what I feel God wants me to do, despite the fact that every logical fiber of my being tells me to do something else."

I resisted the urge. I told myself over and over that it didn't matter what Pres. M thought of me, that all that mattered was what God thinks of me, that if I said that I'd have to get into a big long explanation of what I was talking about. I told myself that if I said that I'd succeed only in making myself look like a deluded self-righteous prat.

So I said, "Thank you for your concern, Pres. M. I appreciate it." And then I came here to my blog, where people expect me to be a deluded self-righteous prat.

The end.

My First Review (sort of)

From the Association for Mormon Letters mailing list (which I've only been checking again recently to see if they're talking about me):

Date: 2005-09-24 20:01 -600
To: aml-list
Subject: Re: [AML] Double Standards in Homosexuality (was Review: COX, LatterDays)
Did y'all read the articles on this topic in the new Dialogue? First one is a personal memoir of surprising candor by a young man telling about his same-sex feelings and how he decided to get married anyway. Then two experts write a response, and the overall feel is that they don't think--the first one, anyway--his marriage will survive, because he's a 5 on the 1-6 straight-gay scale, and the first guy doesn't think anyone at 5 or 6 should marry hetero-ly, but if they're more middle-of-the-scale bisexual then they may have a decent shot at long-term success (well, it's not that simplistic, but that's the bottom line I took out of it). Then the young man writes a last piece.

Quite a provocative quartet of articles that overall raise your compassion, if you're able to get your hands on them. I snuggled with my wife within the hour after reading them, and I found myself wondering in extremis what it would be like for people that far right on the scale to try to make a hetero marriage work. The main literary tie-in here is the great honesty and well-wrought details--his find in the park is haunting--of the young man's memoir portion.

Hee hee.