I'm so grateful for all of the congratulatory notes, facebook messages, cards, and gifts we got, but I am particularly pleased with those that came from active Mormons. So many active Mormons had supportive things to say during and after my wedding, and frankly, it surprised me. The messages came from people who didn't have to send them. I received a dozen such congratulatory notes from former missionaries from my mission, and many more from people in my wards at BYU, a Sunday school teacher from my childhood, parents of friends, and former seminary friends.
One active Mormon who in High School had boasted that he was a homophobe, wrote, "I heard you were getting married! I trust it was a very special event. I'm really glad you are happy and wish you all the best ..." That was a common comment--"I am glad you are happy." Many said they could see that I was happy in my wedding photos.
I'm still trying to sort out what this all means. Does it mean that a large portion of active Mormons are not on the same page as their Salt Lake leaders on the issue of gay marriage? Maybe not--these same people may even still vote against gay marriage if given the opportunity (that is a disturbing thought). Maybe it means that my wedding showed them happiness is obtainable outside the narrow confines of Mormonism. Or maybe it just means that they can disassociate my decisions and their beliefs. I don't know, I'm still wrapping my head around it.
I will say this though. While it is still impossible for me as a man married to a man to be a member of the Church, that doesn't mean faithful Mormons have to or will exclude me from their friendship. There is no doubt that you can believe in my right to marry and celebrate it and still be an active member of the Church. That means that if you have something less than supportive to say about my marriage, you can't use "I'm Mormon" as your excuse for bigotry.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
You Have Stolen My Heart
More than anything, I suddenly feel very secure. I'm married now! Completely married--emotionally, physically, legally. I have a marriage license, and I am fortunate enough to live in a state that not only issued it but recognizes it. Thanks to the 5th and 10th amendments, it looks like even President Obama will have to recognize it. (There is an excellent explanation of the DOMA decision over at 365). I didn't think I would feel all of that in this way.
I never realized how insecure I used to be. I used to get so worked up about having rights and fighting for them. Every time someone said something homophobic in the public or private sphere, I took it personally. Glenn Beck used to give me panic attacks. I used to go out of my way to read what Mormon leaders said on the topic, and I would be really bothered by it. I was obsessed with having a community and making connections with other gay Mormons. I really cared about the future of the Mormon Church, and my relationship to it. I don't know how else to describe it other than to say I was insecure.
But now none of that seems to matter to me. Rather than finding out what Mormons/conservatives/Baptists/Republicans have to say about gay rights, I'd rather worry about how the new living room furniture looks or what I'm going to make my new husband for dinner. I have a partner--someone that I will always be with. No one--not Maggie Gallagher, not Thomas Monson, not Barack Obama, not my parents, not Glenn Beck--can take Michael away from me. He is mine, and I am his. We have our rights, our protections, our obligations, our promises, our security. I realize that in more places in this world than not this is not the case, and I am still passionate about my hope to extend these rights and securities to the rest of the world for other couples (and for us if we travel or move). But for some reason being married just takes away a lot of the anxiety around it. I can understand how straight couples take this security for granted. I am so grateful for those who have fought so hard to make my marriage a possibility, because now that I have it, I don't know how I lived without it.
Nothing brings more peace, satisfaction, or security to me than having a husband.
Friday, May 21, 2010
You Reap What You Sow
Recent news articles like this one in The Arizona Republic have discussed the fallout between the Mormon Church and Latin members, investigators, and potential converts in Arizona. Missionaries are having more doors slammed in their faces, and pews are thinning out because many Latin Americans don't want to be a part of the same Church as Sen. Russell Pearce who sponsored the new Arizona law clamps down on undocumented immigrants. We saw similar fall out two years ago in the wake of proposition 8.
Unless the LDS Church wants to become more politically and socially homogeneous and more narrow in its outreach and its capacity to influence others, it needs to embrace more liberals and liberal ideals. It's not enough anymore to be politically neutral. The Church actually didn't take a stand on the immigration law, but because a prominent Mormon Senator did, the effect is the same. They will need to distance themselves from him to contain the damage or it will get worse.
Beyond this issue in Arizona, I see this trend becoming more of a problem for the Church the closer we get to 2012. I actually think it would be a very bad thing for Mormons if Mitt Romney secures the republican nomination. The bigger Mitt Romney gets, the more the public will associate his republican platform with Mormonism. Not only will it isolate liberal or Democrat Mormons, it will drive away potential converts and limit the outreach of the Church for a very long time. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the Church has an untapped pool of potential converts. If they want to reach those people, they have got to accept gays, immigrants, liberals, and all those people who are different from the bulk of the membership and who have so much to offer. Perhaps, though, the Church doesn't want to reach out to those people. Maybe they want to be as white, bland, and homogenized as milk.
Unless the LDS Church wants to become more politically and socially homogeneous and more narrow in its outreach and its capacity to influence others, it needs to embrace more liberals and liberal ideals. It's not enough anymore to be politically neutral. The Church actually didn't take a stand on the immigration law, but because a prominent Mormon Senator did, the effect is the same. They will need to distance themselves from him to contain the damage or it will get worse.
Beyond this issue in Arizona, I see this trend becoming more of a problem for the Church the closer we get to 2012. I actually think it would be a very bad thing for Mormons if Mitt Romney secures the republican nomination. The bigger Mitt Romney gets, the more the public will associate his republican platform with Mormonism. Not only will it isolate liberal or Democrat Mormons, it will drive away potential converts and limit the outreach of the Church for a very long time. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the Church has an untapped pool of potential converts. If they want to reach those people, they have got to accept gays, immigrants, liberals, and all those people who are different from the bulk of the membership and who have so much to offer. Perhaps, though, the Church doesn't want to reach out to those people. Maybe they want to be as white, bland, and homogenized as milk.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Burning Through My Darkest Night
On Saturday I went to New York City for the first time. We caught a train in New Haven with our friends after lunch. On the train there was a man who wandered down the aisles talking about nonsense. He smelled of vodka, sweat, and stale urine and had a long greasy pony tail. He was missing at least four significant teeth, but it didn't stop him from flapping his gums at everyone on the train.
After pacing from the front of the car to the back at least fifty times he sat down right behind me, next to these two girls. They didn't know what to do, so the they smiled uncomfortably as he rambled nonsensically. There were four policeman waiting at the next station when the train pulled up. The man, who had been approached earlier by the conductor, shouted, "They're never gonna take me alive," but then peacefully allowed the police to escort him away. As soon as he was gone, we all started talking about the experience. A woman came and sat down where he'd been sitting and she laughed about it with us and the other poor girls who'd had to put up with the drunk. We were all strangers, but because of the experience we chatted as if we all knew each other.
When the train pulled into the Grand Central Station and I stepped into New York, I as predictably blown away by how big everything was and how many people there were--Homeless people, vendors, bicyclists, taxi drivers, business men, a bride and a groom, another bride and a groom in a carriage, a men in tuxedos and women in ballgowns in the afternoon. There were well dressed men, well dressed women, families, immigrants, artists, old men with hats. There were people everywhere in this city that seemed to go on for miles. We walked for miles--strolled through Central Park, shopped in the SoHo area, hung out in Stonewall, ate dinner in the West Village--and we must have passed millions of people.
One of those people that we passed was that woman from the train--the one who'd sat down where the drunk had sat and chatted with us. We didn't plan the encounter. We were just walking to dinner on a random street between Soho and the West Village--far from Central Station--when we passed each other. She recognized us, and again we talked about the strange experience on the train and marveled at how remarkable it was that we'd seen her again that day. If there had been no drunk on the train, if we hadn't had that strange experience, we may still have passed her on the street hours later, but we wouldn't have recognized her face or known that she had been on the train with us earlier. It was the first experience that made the second encounter significant. Afterwords we tried to figure out how we'd run into her. Out of the millions of people we saw and didn't see in that city, I have no idea what the odds are for such a random meeting, but it is very improbable. It shouldn't have happened, and yet it did. The whole thing made the world feel so small and life so planned out down the tiniest poetic detail.
This weekend I have thought a lot about my relationship with Michael. He and I complement each other so well that our constant compromises are so subtle I don't even notice them. It's almost like we view the world with the same lens. In every way he is perfect for me. It's a miracle I ever found him. He is my first love--my first real boyfriend. It should have taken a million dates to find a person who was half as good for me as he is, but I found him basically at the first try. I think the odds of that happening are about as likely as the odds of running into that not so anonymous woman from the train in the middle of New York City. It's so far beyond improbability that it makes me want to believe in God just so I can have an explanation for it. It's remarkable.
After pacing from the front of the car to the back at least fifty times he sat down right behind me, next to these two girls. They didn't know what to do, so the they smiled uncomfortably as he rambled nonsensically. There were four policeman waiting at the next station when the train pulled up. The man, who had been approached earlier by the conductor, shouted, "They're never gonna take me alive," but then peacefully allowed the police to escort him away. As soon as he was gone, we all started talking about the experience. A woman came and sat down where he'd been sitting and she laughed about it with us and the other poor girls who'd had to put up with the drunk. We were all strangers, but because of the experience we chatted as if we all knew each other.
When the train pulled into the Grand Central Station and I stepped into New York, I as predictably blown away by how big everything was and how many people there were--Homeless people, vendors, bicyclists, taxi drivers, business men, a bride and a groom, another bride and a groom in a carriage, a men in tuxedos and women in ballgowns in the afternoon. There were well dressed men, well dressed women, families, immigrants, artists, old men with hats. There were people everywhere in this city that seemed to go on for miles. We walked for miles--strolled through Central Park, shopped in the SoHo area, hung out in Stonewall, ate dinner in the West Village--and we must have passed millions of people.
One of those people that we passed was that woman from the train--the one who'd sat down where the drunk had sat and chatted with us. We didn't plan the encounter. We were just walking to dinner on a random street between Soho and the West Village--far from Central Station--when we passed each other. She recognized us, and again we talked about the strange experience on the train and marveled at how remarkable it was that we'd seen her again that day. If there had been no drunk on the train, if we hadn't had that strange experience, we may still have passed her on the street hours later, but we wouldn't have recognized her face or known that she had been on the train with us earlier. It was the first experience that made the second encounter significant. Afterwords we tried to figure out how we'd run into her. Out of the millions of people we saw and didn't see in that city, I have no idea what the odds are for such a random meeting, but it is very improbable. It shouldn't have happened, and yet it did. The whole thing made the world feel so small and life so planned out down the tiniest poetic detail.
This weekend I have thought a lot about my relationship with Michael. He and I complement each other so well that our constant compromises are so subtle I don't even notice them. It's almost like we view the world with the same lens. In every way he is perfect for me. It's a miracle I ever found him. He is my first love--my first real boyfriend. It should have taken a million dates to find a person who was half as good for me as he is, but I found him basically at the first try. I think the odds of that happening are about as likely as the odds of running into that not so anonymous woman from the train in the middle of New York City. It's so far beyond improbability that it makes me want to believe in God just so I can have an explanation for it. It's remarkable.
Friday, April 23, 2010
You Don't Know What I'm Feeling
More than a year ago I posed this question: What would missionaries say to a gay couple if they knocked on their door and they were interested in their message?
I am still curious about this because I think it reveals a lot about the future of the Mormon Church. Gay families exist, and they will continue to exist. As they are viewed with increasing normalcy, how will the Mormons deal with the fact that excluding them is unfavorable and looks bad? How will they treat this large pool of untapped potential converts? Will they even want to convert these families?
In my googling I stumbled across a blog that invites everyone to listen to the missionaries the next time they stop at your door. I posed my question to them. For clarity and potency sake, I did speak as if I was already married, when I will actually not be married until June (but I have been with Michael for 2 1/2 years, and June is so close!).
Are you as surprised as I am by the response? He is basically telling me that I would not only have to get divorced, but that I would want to get divorced! And though he calls it a "great sacrifice" he also refers to it as "frustrating." Furthermore, he expects me to seek out and invite the missionaries over knowing that if they do come over and I do like what they say I will have to get divorced. Frustrating is an understatement.
I realize that this is just one man's response/opinion, and that it doesn't reflect the Church or the missionaries as a whole. In fact, I think his response does not represent what would happen at all. I used to be a missionary, and while I was on my mission I never had to determine what I would do in this scenario because every gay person whose door I knocked sent me packing, but if I had stumbled across a gay family, I would not have taught them. They couldn't join the Church as a family, and therefore they couldn't be considered "progressing investigators," and so I wouldn't have taught them, and I doubt many missionaries would. This is consistent with history. I pointed out in my original post that it is not an entirely new scenario. What did missionaries do prior to 1978 when they knocked on the door of black families? Nothing. They just excused themselves and knocked on the next door. I suspect that is what would happen today as well.
Maybe it was unfair of me to pose this question on his blog disingenuously, but my curiosity was sincere. I think the ease and flippancy with which he responds--lacking any sort of sympathy or understanding of how painful and traumatic divorce is--actually tells us as gay people that we have failed to help Mormons like him understand our relationships. Divorce is messy, gay or straight! Custody battles, division of assets, not to mention emotional history and scarring ... He would never have said that so easily if he was counseling a man to leave his wife for conversion sake, which means he doesn't understand that my relationship with Michael is just as significant, deep, and beautiful as a straight one would be. That is what really makes me the most sad coming away from this. How can we as a community really show the LDS people that our relationships are meaningful? How can I express the seriousness with which I take my marriage vows? Because until they see all of that, they won't understand why we are valid, and why they can't just write us off.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thought We'd be on Fire Together
Almost as soon as I moved far, far away from BYU I began to miss Mormonism. I know I know, I wrote a whole long post about being so happy to escape it when I moved to Boston, and I wasn't lying, but still, I've been missing it. I missed it so much that I tried going to a different Church instead one Sunday a few weeks after moving here. I went to a service for the United Church of Christ, and frankly it was really similar to a sacrament meeting, but it just wasn't enough. It wasn't my church in the way that the LDS Church had been my church.
I miss that sense of community--the fact that in the Church you can move across the united states and have a place to go that is familiar and where there are people who are like you and who can be your instant friends. I miss that sense that I belong to this congregation, this people, this heritage, this religion.
I miss feeling like I have the answers. I miss being able to testify that what I think is right, and then have others value me for it. I miss the surety that comes when ideas are not just ideas, they are revelations.
I miss being able to go to the temple. I miss how beautiful it is, and how secluded it is, because not everyone can go there. I miss the rituals. I miss being able to make connections and correlations between the rituals and the scriptures and the prophets. I miss sharing those discoveries.
I miss doing something every week once a week that is familiar and consistent and social and spiritual and that reminds me of my childhood. I miss all the little nostalgic things about the faith--the song that was sung at my baptism, the Book of Mormon stories I know so well, the missionaries that remind me of my mission, or the artwork that makes me think of my mother.
Most of all I miss making my family proud. I miss being able to talk to them about what's going on in my life. I miss being able to relate to them when they tell me what is going on in their lives. I miss feeling like we share something that defines us and that sets apart--maybe even above--other families.
So yes, I miss Mormonism, but missing it doesn't mean I like it. Frankly, I am angry with the LDS Church. In so many ways I believe that it destroys families, which given its professed pro-family stance just makes me want to climb to the temple rooftop right next to Moroni and shout "hypocrite!" at the top of my lungs. I'm not just disenchanted with the people or the culture, I truly believe the structure, doctrine, and practices of the faith are inherently destructive and wrong and disturbing.
With the sense of community comes a self-righteous air of exclusivity that I do not miss. I don't miss the way they use shame and guilt to manipulate people. I don't miss the way they punish adults. I don't miss the way they exclude people or reject their own--I don't miss being rejected because of who I love. I don't miss the way they dismiss outsiders, because as much as I miss feeling like I have all the answers, I don't believe that it is possible to have all the answers. No one, not even me, is right all the time. And two people who believe different things can both be right. Or wrong, as the case may be.
While I miss the temple, I don't miss the lifestyle I was required to live to go there. I don't miss how it made feel excluded from the world. I don't miss the word of wisdom, and I don't miss tithing. I especially don't miss being told that I have to leave or give up the love of my life in order to be chaste. Really, I don't miss any of the commitments I had to make to go to the temple or while I was in the temple either. I don’t miss the way that marriage status is used in the temple as a requirement for exaltation and as a way to stratify the afterlife like a country club.
And most of all I don't miss the way that my family let allegiance to the faith hurt or supersede allegiance to each other, because frankly that is the biggest way that the faith destroys families. It pits them against each other and fosters a spirit of condemnation and manipulation.
This week I have discovered a Mormon Church that has all of those things that I miss, without all of these things that I abhor. In and of itself, that find is a small miracle, and you would think that I would be jumping up and down for joy over it. The Church is the Community of Christ, formerly known as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It uses the Book of Mormon, believes in the prophet Joseph Smith, and is organized in almost the same way the LDS Church is organized. The difference is that they don’t believe that are the only ones who are right—they accept as valid the baptisms of the Latter-day Saints, Protestants, and Catholics. There are no temple recommend interviews. They don’t require observance of the word of wisdom, and they don’t believe in D&C 132—the doctrine that sanctioned polygamy and now is used to stratify the hereafter and to tie marriage to exaltation. As of yesterday, the Church allows congregations to sanction gay marriage, and it has been tolerant of homosexuality for years. I even think my family would respect me more as a member of the Community of Christ than they do as a former member of the LDS Church. We have had RLDS friends who my parents have respected and spoken highly of, and we would go back to having things like the Book of Mormon in common. So really, this church is everything I miss without everything I hate, and there is a small, beautiful congregation in Lexington a mere twenty minutes away.
Why then, if it should be perfect, am I not jumping up to join them? I don’t know. It is tempting. It really is, but in the end I just can’t bring myself to accept it. Maybe I’m jaded by organized religion. Maybe I've become too skeptical and just can't believe even in the things that I long for nostalgically. Maybe I just don’t believe in God, or at least in the tangible, Zeus-like God of Mormonism. Maybe I am just too angry and hurt by Mormonism that returning to it, even a changed version of it, would be like rubbing salt into my wounds. Whatever the reason, I find myself still consigned to missing it and loathing it at the same time, despite the option of having what I miss without what I loathe.
I miss that sense of community--the fact that in the Church you can move across the united states and have a place to go that is familiar and where there are people who are like you and who can be your instant friends. I miss that sense that I belong to this congregation, this people, this heritage, this religion.
I miss feeling like I have the answers. I miss being able to testify that what I think is right, and then have others value me for it. I miss the surety that comes when ideas are not just ideas, they are revelations.
I miss being able to go to the temple. I miss how beautiful it is, and how secluded it is, because not everyone can go there. I miss the rituals. I miss being able to make connections and correlations between the rituals and the scriptures and the prophets. I miss sharing those discoveries.
I miss doing something every week once a week that is familiar and consistent and social and spiritual and that reminds me of my childhood. I miss all the little nostalgic things about the faith--the song that was sung at my baptism, the Book of Mormon stories I know so well, the missionaries that remind me of my mission, or the artwork that makes me think of my mother.
Most of all I miss making my family proud. I miss being able to talk to them about what's going on in my life. I miss being able to relate to them when they tell me what is going on in their lives. I miss feeling like we share something that defines us and that sets apart--maybe even above--other families.
So yes, I miss Mormonism, but missing it doesn't mean I like it. Frankly, I am angry with the LDS Church. In so many ways I believe that it destroys families, which given its professed pro-family stance just makes me want to climb to the temple rooftop right next to Moroni and shout "hypocrite!" at the top of my lungs. I'm not just disenchanted with the people or the culture, I truly believe the structure, doctrine, and practices of the faith are inherently destructive and wrong and disturbing.
With the sense of community comes a self-righteous air of exclusivity that I do not miss. I don't miss the way they use shame and guilt to manipulate people. I don't miss the way they punish adults. I don't miss the way they exclude people or reject their own--I don't miss being rejected because of who I love. I don't miss the way they dismiss outsiders, because as much as I miss feeling like I have all the answers, I don't believe that it is possible to have all the answers. No one, not even me, is right all the time. And two people who believe different things can both be right. Or wrong, as the case may be.
While I miss the temple, I don't miss the lifestyle I was required to live to go there. I don't miss how it made feel excluded from the world. I don't miss the word of wisdom, and I don't miss tithing. I especially don't miss being told that I have to leave or give up the love of my life in order to be chaste. Really, I don't miss any of the commitments I had to make to go to the temple or while I was in the temple either. I don’t miss the way that marriage status is used in the temple as a requirement for exaltation and as a way to stratify the afterlife like a country club.
And most of all I don't miss the way that my family let allegiance to the faith hurt or supersede allegiance to each other, because frankly that is the biggest way that the faith destroys families. It pits them against each other and fosters a spirit of condemnation and manipulation.
This week I have discovered a Mormon Church that has all of those things that I miss, without all of these things that I abhor. In and of itself, that find is a small miracle, and you would think that I would be jumping up and down for joy over it. The Church is the Community of Christ, formerly known as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It uses the Book of Mormon, believes in the prophet Joseph Smith, and is organized in almost the same way the LDS Church is organized. The difference is that they don’t believe that are the only ones who are right—they accept as valid the baptisms of the Latter-day Saints, Protestants, and Catholics. There are no temple recommend interviews. They don’t require observance of the word of wisdom, and they don’t believe in D&C 132—the doctrine that sanctioned polygamy and now is used to stratify the hereafter and to tie marriage to exaltation. As of yesterday, the Church allows congregations to sanction gay marriage, and it has been tolerant of homosexuality for years. I even think my family would respect me more as a member of the Community of Christ than they do as a former member of the LDS Church. We have had RLDS friends who my parents have respected and spoken highly of, and we would go back to having things like the Book of Mormon in common. So really, this church is everything I miss without everything I hate, and there is a small, beautiful congregation in Lexington a mere twenty minutes away.
Why then, if it should be perfect, am I not jumping up to join them? I don’t know. It is tempting. It really is, but in the end I just can’t bring myself to accept it. Maybe I’m jaded by organized religion. Maybe I've become too skeptical and just can't believe even in the things that I long for nostalgically. Maybe I just don’t believe in God, or at least in the tangible, Zeus-like God of Mormonism. Maybe I am just too angry and hurt by Mormonism that returning to it, even a changed version of it, would be like rubbing salt into my wounds. Whatever the reason, I find myself still consigned to missing it and loathing it at the same time, despite the option of having what I miss without what I loathe.
In Praise of the Vulnerable Man
I have long held that the biggest barrier to sanctioning gay relationships in the Mormon Church is the exclusion of women in its priesthood. The biggest source of homophobia, in my opinion, is gender inequality. If there is nothing inferior about femininity, then a man who displays feminine behavior isn’t to be feared or ridiculed, but in the Mormon Church there is something inferior (or at least so vastly different) about women that a man who displays female traits is committing a gross crime. Furthermore, the Church is based on the family unit, which ideally is lead by the priesthood. A lesbian home would be absent the priesthood eternally, and a gay man’s home would have it twice over. That just doesn’t work. The Church could not sanction gay marriage without first giving the priesthood to women.
And I believe it is completely possible for the Church to extend the priesthood to women without throwing everything out the window. Women perform priesthood tasks in the temple, and they are appointed “priestesses” there for the hereafter. Many Mormons believe that women will receive the priesthood in heaven, or will have their own priesthood that is closely tied to motherhood. Church leaders could play up all of these things for a few years, and start an anticipation for a future day when God will open the priesthood further, similar to what happened in the Church before the 1978 revelation lifting the ban on blacks in the priesthood.
Even though the Church can extend the priesthood to women, it doesn’t have to, and I’m not sure it will. The Catholic Church sets a huge precedent—for centuries they have not lifted their ban on women joining the priesthood, and they have survived just fine as an organization. I don’t think the LDS Church will become obsolete if they don’t embrace gender equality any more or less than the Catholic Church.
Both Catholics and Mormons have had their fair share of break off sects, however, who have embraced gender equality. While most Protestant sects coming away from Catholicism have found success in ordaining women, the Community of Christ (formerly the RLDS, a break off of Mormonism) lost twenty percent of its membership when they extended the priesthood to women some 25 years ago. I’m not sure that a Church as obsessed with growth as the LDS church would take the risk given what happened to its sister organization. Like I said, I believe the Church should embrace gender equality, but that doesn’t mean it has to or that it will.
But interestingly enough, the Community of Christ, which still uses the Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants and which is organized in basically the same structure as the LDS, has embraced gay relationships during their spring general conference this month. So I am right in stating that opening up the priesthood to women does pave the way for sanctioning gay relationships. The question is, will the LDS Church follow?
And I believe it is completely possible for the Church to extend the priesthood to women without throwing everything out the window. Women perform priesthood tasks in the temple, and they are appointed “priestesses” there for the hereafter. Many Mormons believe that women will receive the priesthood in heaven, or will have their own priesthood that is closely tied to motherhood. Church leaders could play up all of these things for a few years, and start an anticipation for a future day when God will open the priesthood further, similar to what happened in the Church before the 1978 revelation lifting the ban on blacks in the priesthood.
Even though the Church can extend the priesthood to women, it doesn’t have to, and I’m not sure it will. The Catholic Church sets a huge precedent—for centuries they have not lifted their ban on women joining the priesthood, and they have survived just fine as an organization. I don’t think the LDS Church will become obsolete if they don’t embrace gender equality any more or less than the Catholic Church.
Both Catholics and Mormons have had their fair share of break off sects, however, who have embraced gender equality. While most Protestant sects coming away from Catholicism have found success in ordaining women, the Community of Christ (formerly the RLDS, a break off of Mormonism) lost twenty percent of its membership when they extended the priesthood to women some 25 years ago. I’m not sure that a Church as obsessed with growth as the LDS church would take the risk given what happened to its sister organization. Like I said, I believe the Church should embrace gender equality, but that doesn’t mean it has to or that it will.
But interestingly enough, the Community of Christ, which still uses the Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants and which is organized in basically the same structure as the LDS, has embraced gay relationships during their spring general conference this month. So I am right in stating that opening up the priesthood to women does pave the way for sanctioning gay relationships. The question is, will the LDS Church follow?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
+oil+on+panel.jpg)
Posts
