The scriptures and Church handbooks contain well-kept secrets -- not because the Lord intends that these treasures be reserved for just a privileged few, but because so few make the effort to discover what’s actually in them. Many Latter-day Saints proudly declare, “I know the gospel is true.” Far fewer can say, “I know the gospel.”
President Harold B. Lee described the situation this way: “I say that we need to teach our people to find their answers in the scriptures. If only each of us would be wise enough to say that we aren’t able to answer any question unless we can find a doctrinal answer in the scriptures! And if we hear someone teaching something that is contrary to what is in the scriptures each of us may know whether the things spoken of are false – it is as simple as that. But the unfortunate thing is that so many of us are not reading the scriptures. We do not know what is in them, and therefore we speculate about the things we ought to have found in the scriptures themselves. I think that therein is one of our biggest dangers today.” (“Finding the Answers in the Scriptures,” Ensign, December 1972, 2.)
As a gospel doctrine instructor I must deal with two related issues every week. First, it is my duty to take seriously the counsel that President Ezra Taft Benson gave to teachers: “Always remember, there is no satisfactory substitute for the scriptures and the words of the living prophets. These should be your original sources. Read and ponder more what the Lord has said, and less about what others have written concerning what the Lord has said.”
President Gordon B. Hinckley taught: “I have spoken before about the importance of keeping our doctrine pure, and seeing that it is taught in all of our meetings. I worry about this. Small aberrations in gospel teaching can lead to large and evil falsehoods.”
Faithfully following this counsel as I teach means I am to avoid speculation, quoting from commentaries, using entertaining or sensational stories, and inserting personal interpretation into my teaching.
While those things are within my control, there is a second issue with which I have greater difficulty: How to deal with Brother X, a very vocal fellow whose comments are often without any doctrinal foundation. Not only are some of his views untrue, but what amazes me even more is that when he makes these false statements, the members of the class sit there either in silent agreement or too afraid to counter what’s been said.
This past Sunday, while discussing the restoration of the priesthood, I stated that although the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve hold all priesthood keys, only one person, the President of the Church – senior Apostle -- is authorized to use them in their fulness (see D&C 132:7). This elicited the following comment from Brother X: “I’ve always been told that the Presidents of the Seventy also have all priesthood keys. This is a way of ensuring that the leadership of the Church will continue should something happen to the First Presidency and the Twelve.”
Nobody in the room said a word – not even two former bishops. [This reminded me of the time when a class member said that when a new Apostle is being selected, all it takes is the approval of the majority of the Twelve, not a unanimous vote. Nobody said a word then either, and the instructor just went right on. I wasn’t there, but a friend told me about this.]
Well, this time the instructor didn’t “go right on.” If I had, everyone would have assumed that what Brother X had said was true, and I could not allow that to happen. Taking care to not embarrass or offend, I said that his view was incorrect – that the information in the lesson manual and other sources I’d studied in my preparation indicated that only the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve possess all priesthood keys.
Fast-forward thirty minutes to priesthood meeting. The high priests were discussing what God is like. Predictably, Brother X, after stating that “God is omnipotent and omniscient [all-knowing]” said, twice, “God is continually learning.” I waited for the instructor to correct this false statement. He did not. I waited to see if one of the three ex-bishops in the room would do it. They did not. Along with everyone else in the room, they were silent.
I was torn. I knew that what Brother X had said was not true. I was even holding in my hand (on my iPad) the following statement by Elder Bruce R. McConkie:
“There are those who say that God is progressing in knowledge and is learning new truths. This is false--utterly, totally, and completely. There is not one sliver of truth in it. It grows out of a wholly twisted and incorrect view of the King Follett Sermon and of what is meant by eternal progression. God progresses in the sense that his kingdoms increase and his dominions multiply--not in the sense that he learns new truths and discovers new laws. God is not a student. He is not a laboratory technician. He is not postulating new theories on the basis of past experiences. He has indeed graduated to that state of exaltation that consists of knowing all things and having all power” (“The Seven Deadly Heresies,” BYU fireside, 1 June 1980).
Even though I was armed with a correct response, I did not speak. Why? Well, there I was, having just corrected Brother X’s incorrect view in front of everybody in the Gospel Doctrine class, and I was very concerned about how he would feel if I did it again. So I kept silent, for now. But somehow, in some way, I will explain the situation to our group leader or instructor and suggest that they clarify this matter in a future meeting. Brother X’s comment cannot stand.
I conclude where I began. Too many members are declaring that they know the gospel is true but, sadly, they don’t know the gospel. They state things that are simply not true – not because of any evil intent to lead others astray but because they don’t know any better. Instructors may provide occasional remedies, but the real solution will not be found in the classroom. It is found in serious, personal gospel study.
To paraphrase the prophet, Moses, “Would God that all God’s people knew the gospel” (see Numbers 11:25-29).
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
It's Downright Un-Mormon
Art Buchwald was a writer/humorist who authored 33 books and more than 8,000 newspaper columns. After he died, The New York Times ran his video obituary. It began: “Hi, I’m Art Buchwald, and I just died.” I was among many who thought he was a very funny man.
A few of his quotes:
This is what makes me happy: ...Any music-free restaurant ... A grandson who offers to clean the snow off my driveway and also fix my computer ... An evening in bed with a good book. (My book.) ... A good night's sleep ... As you can see, it doesn't take much to make me happy.
I always wanted to get into politics, but I was never light enough to make the team.
Just when you think there's nothing to write about, Nixon says, 'I am not a crook.' Jimmy Carter says, 'I have lusted after women in my heart.' President Reagan says, 'I have just taken a urinalysis test, and I am not on dope.'
A couple of months ago I had an experience that reminded me of a column he wrote titled, “It’s Downright Un-American.” In it he told of visiting a store where he wanted to purchase a portable typewriter:
The salesman was very helpful about showing me the different models. I decided on one, and then I said, "May I write out a personal check?"
"Naturally," he said kindly. "Do you have any identification?"
"Of course," I said. I produced an American Express credit card, a Diner's Club credit card, a Carte blanche credit card, a Bell Telephone credit card, and my pass to the White house. The man inspected them all and then said, "Where's your driver's license?"
"I don't have one," I replied.
"Did you lose it?"
"No, I didn't lose it. I don't drive a car."
He pushed a button under the cash register, and suddenly a floor manager came rushing over. The salesman had now become surly. "This guy's trying to cash a check, and he doesn't have a driver's license. Should I call the store detective?"
"Wait a minute. I'll talk to him," the manager said. "Did you lose your driver's license for some traffic offense?"
"No, I've never driven. I don't like to drive."
"Nobody likes to drive," the floor manager shouted. "That's no excuse. Why are you trying to cash a check if you don't have a driver's license?"
"I thought all the other identification was good enough. I had to be cleared by the Secret Service to get this white House pass," I said hopefully.
The floor manager looked scornfully at the pass and all my credit cards. "Anyone can get cleared by the Secret Service. Hey, wait a minute. How did you get out here to the shopping center if you don't drive?"
"I took a taxi," I said.
"Well, that takes the cake," he said.
By this time a crowd had gathered. "What happened?" "Guy doesn't have a driver's license." "Says he doesn't even drive. Never has driven." "Lynch him." "Tar and feather him." "How un-American can you get?"
The crowd was getting ugly, so I decided to forget the typewriter. "Never mind," I said. "I'll go somewhere else."
By this time the president of the store had arrived on the scene. Fortunately, he recognized my name and ok’d the check. He was very embarrassed by the treatment I had received and said, "come on, I'll buy you a drink."
"I forgot to tell you," I said. "I don't drink either."
This was too much, even for him, and he pushed me toward the door. "Get out of here," he said, "and don't come back!" . . .
Americans are broad-minded people. They'll accept the fact that a person can be an alcoholic, a dope fiend, a wife beater, and even a newspaperman, but if a man doesn't drive, there is something wrong with him.
That last paragraph came to my mind on the Sunday before Christmas. It was the day before when I’d decided to have my hair cut much shorter than usual – a buzzcut that left what little hair I have no longer than an eighth of an inch. I could not believe how some people reacted. I concluded that a person could announce his belief that the Book of Mormon was the creation of a deceiver, that in the Church people are more often called to positions out of desperation than inspiration, and that there really might be something to the idea of transubstantiation – but if you come to church with a buzzcut, that’s grounds for excommunication.
"Naturally," he said kindly. "Do you have any identification?"
"Of course," I said. I produced an American Express credit card, a Diner's Club credit card, a Carte blanche credit card, a Bell Telephone credit card, and my pass to the White house. The man inspected them all and then said, "Where's your driver's license?"
"I don't have one," I replied.
"Did you lose it?"
"No, I didn't lose it. I don't drive a car."
He pushed a button under the cash register, and suddenly a floor manager came rushing over. The salesman had now become surly. "This guy's trying to cash a check, and he doesn't have a driver's license. Should I call the store detective?"
"Wait a minute. I'll talk to him," the manager said. "Did you lose your driver's license for some traffic offense?"
"No, I've never driven. I don't like to drive."
"Nobody likes to drive," the floor manager shouted. "That's no excuse. Why are you trying to cash a check if you don't have a driver's license?"
"I thought all the other identification was good enough. I had to be cleared by the Secret Service to get this white House pass," I said hopefully.
The floor manager looked scornfully at the pass and all my credit cards. "Anyone can get cleared by the Secret Service. Hey, wait a minute. How did you get out here to the shopping center if you don't drive?"
"I took a taxi," I said.
"Well, that takes the cake," he said.
By this time a crowd had gathered. "What happened?" "Guy doesn't have a driver's license." "Says he doesn't even drive. Never has driven." "Lynch him." "Tar and feather him." "How un-American can you get?"
The crowd was getting ugly, so I decided to forget the typewriter. "Never mind," I said. "I'll go somewhere else."
By this time the president of the store had arrived on the scene. Fortunately, he recognized my name and ok’d the check. He was very embarrassed by the treatment I had received and said, "come on, I'll buy you a drink."
"I forgot to tell you," I said. "I don't drink either."
This was too much, even for him, and he pushed me toward the door. "Get out of here," he said, "and don't come back!" . . .
Americans are broad-minded people. They'll accept the fact that a person can be an alcoholic, a dope fiend, a wife beater, and even a newspaperman, but if a man doesn't drive, there is something wrong with him.
That last paragraph came to my mind on the Sunday before Christmas. It was the day before when I’d decided to have my hair cut much shorter than usual – a buzzcut that left what little hair I have no longer than an eighth of an inch. I could not believe how some people reacted. I concluded that a person could announce his belief that the Book of Mormon was the creation of a deceiver, that in the Church people are more often called to positions out of desperation than inspiration, and that there really might be something to the idea of transubstantiation – but if you come to church with a buzzcut, that’s grounds for excommunication.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
A Message For Helicopter Parents
The term “helicopter parents” has recently become a popular way to describe parents who micro-manage their children’s lives. This, naturally, comes with a risk that as children get older they’ll want to break away from such close supervision and go off in the opposite direction. How can parents avoid the extremes of micro-managing at one end or ignoring the children altogether at the other?
I thought of this the other day as I was listening to Elder Richard Hinckley being interviewed about what it was like to have Gordon B. Hinckley for a father.
Here’s an excerpt – with a lesson for parents:
“Dad and Mother were, obviously, wonderfully faithful people, had great testimonies, but they didn’t dwell on that a lot. For example, I have friends who say, ‘Were your dinner conversations just kind of scripture chases?’ And I would smile and say, ‘No, we talked about 'Did you get the lawn mowed? Did you get the irrigation done? Did you prune the trees? Tell me about school – what did you learn today?' And so forth. From that standpoint I think our childhood was very very normal.
“My father never made us overly aware that he was prominent in the Church. I don’t know if that was intentional or whether that was just his nature – I think probably the latter. So we never felt great pressure. I know that some children in our situation probably feel pressure – they’ve got to be perfect, they’ve got to be good, their Dad is important, and it might reflect on their father and mother if they do something. We didn’t feel that, and I think that was a real gift that our parents gave us. We were just trusted as kids. We got into mischief but not into trouble.
“We had a wonderfully lively home. Both of my parents had wonderful senses of humor, and so, when we were together there was a lot of joking and teasing and laughter. Even our home evenings at times -- when we were very small, someone would say something funny, and we’d all just kind of get the giggles, until my father would say, ‘Well, I guess we’d better continue this next week.’
“My older sister had a very interesting experience that affected her. She was graduating from seminary, a senior in high school, and they had a rule in the seminary that year that you had to buy a seminary pin in order to attend graduation. And the pin was five dollars. That was a lot of money in 1957. She said, ‘I don’t need to go to graduation. I don’t need the pin. I’ve graduated, and I’ll get the certificate, but I don’t want to pay the five dollars.’ Well, my father, who was, I think, the stake president at the time, or perhaps a counselor, was the speaker at seminary graduation. He didn’t know anything about this – that Kathy had decided not to go.
“The seminary principal called my father, and Kathy remembers hearing from the other room his side of the conversation. The principal said, ‘Your daughter’s not coming because she doesn’t want to buy a pin.‘ He said, ‘Oh well, she’s heard everything that I have to say anyway. Five dollars is a lot of money. Let her stay home.’
“Kathy said that was the greatest moment in her life. That’s kind of the way they were. So many fathers would have said, ‘Kathy, you know, I’m the speaker – you’ve got to be there.’ Just let those things slide a little bit. We knew what was important. We knew what we shouldn’t do. We knew what we should do. But there was a lot of latitude in between those extremes.”
(Excerpt from “Conversations” on The Mormon Channel)
I thought of this the other day as I was listening to Elder Richard Hinckley being interviewed about what it was like to have Gordon B. Hinckley for a father.
Here’s an excerpt – with a lesson for parents:
“Dad and Mother were, obviously, wonderfully faithful people, had great testimonies, but they didn’t dwell on that a lot. For example, I have friends who say, ‘Were your dinner conversations just kind of scripture chases?’ And I would smile and say, ‘No, we talked about 'Did you get the lawn mowed? Did you get the irrigation done? Did you prune the trees? Tell me about school – what did you learn today?' And so forth. From that standpoint I think our childhood was very very normal.
“My father never made us overly aware that he was prominent in the Church. I don’t know if that was intentional or whether that was just his nature – I think probably the latter. So we never felt great pressure. I know that some children in our situation probably feel pressure – they’ve got to be perfect, they’ve got to be good, their Dad is important, and it might reflect on their father and mother if they do something. We didn’t feel that, and I think that was a real gift that our parents gave us. We were just trusted as kids. We got into mischief but not into trouble.
“We had a wonderfully lively home. Both of my parents had wonderful senses of humor, and so, when we were together there was a lot of joking and teasing and laughter. Even our home evenings at times -- when we were very small, someone would say something funny, and we’d all just kind of get the giggles, until my father would say, ‘Well, I guess we’d better continue this next week.’
“My older sister had a very interesting experience that affected her. She was graduating from seminary, a senior in high school, and they had a rule in the seminary that year that you had to buy a seminary pin in order to attend graduation. And the pin was five dollars. That was a lot of money in 1957. She said, ‘I don’t need to go to graduation. I don’t need the pin. I’ve graduated, and I’ll get the certificate, but I don’t want to pay the five dollars.’ Well, my father, who was, I think, the stake president at the time, or perhaps a counselor, was the speaker at seminary graduation. He didn’t know anything about this – that Kathy had decided not to go.
“The seminary principal called my father, and Kathy remembers hearing from the other room his side of the conversation. The principal said, ‘Your daughter’s not coming because she doesn’t want to buy a pin.‘ He said, ‘Oh well, she’s heard everything that I have to say anyway. Five dollars is a lot of money. Let her stay home.’
“Kathy said that was the greatest moment in her life. That’s kind of the way they were. So many fathers would have said, ‘Kathy, you know, I’m the speaker – you’ve got to be there.’ Just let those things slide a little bit. We knew what was important. We knew what we shouldn’t do. We knew what we should do. But there was a lot of latitude in between those extremes.”
(Excerpt from “Conversations” on The Mormon Channel)
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