StandingWater Creations

This past week in church (priesthood) we discussed Lesson 5 in the Spencer W. Kimball manual. We are studying President Kimball and his teachings this year. The lesson dealt with prayer. I know this because I’d gotten bored listening to a pre-mission girl explain how she was frumpy and as a result of her frumpiness was serving a mission because, since joining the church, people assumed her frumpiness made her a sister missionary; and I went to priesthood even though, all day, I felt the need to go home and sleep.

In the lesson, the teacher got up and preceded his comments with a quote from the manual and then asked how we could improve our praying so that we were saying something meaningful every time we prayed. I rose my hand (first one) and spoke. In essence, here’s what I said:

I don’t think we have to say something meaningful every time we pray. In fact, I think that the rote prayers are what make it possible for us, when we need to, to pray sincerely to God. We pray because we are commanded to and we say meaningful prayers when something needs to be said. That is not all the time. Rather, our following Christ’s advice on prayer, “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be they name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…,” is a method of prayer; and it is the method we should revert to when we prayer, but this method gives us the means whereby we can pray sincerely when our life turns sour and the prayer becomes,. “Dear Heavenly Father, I need thee now….”

In essence, you do what you have to do to get through the situation so that when there is a need in your life you are in practice. Through personal experience, the need to pray sincerely increases in time (not shared), but like everything else taught after the Beatitudes, this is meant for those who are growing within a new gospel. This is for the convert and not necessarily for someone who has been practicing for their entire lives; this does not mean that you don’t go back to the basics again and again and again (throughout your whole life) and reapply; but in this case Christ is talking to those who are really very brand new to His church.

That is one of the keys to personal piety: doing what you have to do because you have to do it. Going to church because you’ve always gone to church. Reading your scriptures because you are supposed to read your scriptures. Praying because you need to pray. Taking the sacrament because you are supposed to renew those covenants. Doing the basic things, even when you don’t feel like doing them, so that you are carried through the dark times into the light times and so that your faith and patience in God’s time increases and help carry you through the dark times so that the light times still happen.

It is a principle of faith. Faith is an active word. You have to be doing something to have faith, it is more than belief. And yet, in our vernacular, we try to combine belief, which is passive, with faith, which is active, and claim they mean the same thing. They do not. You can literally believe anything you want, but you can only have faith in something that is true and real. You can believe the sky is green; but your faith can only exist in a sky that is blue.

There are some simple guidelines that carry people forward (if you want them to). For example, if you want to study the scriptures, you have to put yourself in a position to begin studying. This is called simply reading the scriptures. To do this you have to (1) want to read the scriptures. You have to (2) set a personal goal like reading a chapter a day, no matter what. And then you have to (3) be prepared to look deeper when the need arises. This does not mean that every time you open the scriptures you will find something significant or that you will delve as deeply as you want; but it does mean that to put yourself in the right position you have to start by reading every day.

To learn to pray significantly, you have to begin by saying a prayer.

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. They will be done on earth as it is in heaven. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

This is an example of prayer. You begin by addressing Heavenly Father. After that you acknowledge him and ask for forgiveness. After that you ask for what you want/need. When you have finished you pray to the Father in the name of the son, Jesus Christ, Amen.

However, in order to pray you have to pray. You have to pray to God in the name of the son. In order to make the prayer significant you have to start the process by praying. You have to use the process of prayer in order to actually be in a position to speak a meaningful prayer. You will go through times when you kneel down to pray (theoretically) and you are only going through the motions of prayer with the outcome, like scripture study or the principles of faith, that when you need to say something the words will come to you and you will be able to say what needs to be said. This cannot happen if you have not prepared the ground, first, for the times when you need to commune with deity.

One of those things that are necessary is attending church. A lot of people say that they don’t believe in organized religion. To me that is like saying you don’t believe in government. You don’t believe in family. You don’t believe in the structure of business. You don’t believe in a lot of things that are staples to society. Societal staples include religion.

Karl Marx said that religion is the opiate of the masses.

You go to church not because you believe in organized religion. Organized religion is flawed. I readily admit that; but, at the same time, I also admit that it is the best thing we’ve got. It is what allows us to learn about God, it allows us to be around others who believe in God, it allows us to fellowship with deity. This is what religion does.

Like prayer or scripture study, the process of going to church starts with going to church. You have to wake up in the morning on Sunday and go whether you want to or not. The process of going to church will lead to the need to go to church. You will do it and go and go, some days, not because you want to, but because you need to. Things will get bad. You won’t want to be there. You may wonder what the use is. The outcome, though, is that it will pass and you will be better able to serve in the future as a result of having gone, maybe served, and ultimately better prepared yourself for communion with deity.

Church, prayer, scripture study aren’t the only answers to life’s questions. You get to do a lot of things you may not necessarily want to do. Work may be a desire, but at the same time it is a necessary evil. Driving is a great thing, but commutes suck. Anything you do, you do it, sometimes, not because you want to, but because you have to. You do it because, sometimes, it is necessary to put yourself forward and say, “I don’t know, but I believe I am better off as a result of these actions,” and eventually, those actions will carry you forward to a point where it doesn’t matter anymore.

And that is important. Not working on Sunday’s, for me, is an important part of my life. I try not to do any kind of writing that might pay the bills (now or someday) on writing. I allow for the fact that school work gets to be done and other things may need to happen, but it is a day of rest. People need a day off – that is mine. But it took time, and effort, to say, “I won’t work on Sunday’s,” and eventually I can begin to dictate that as a course of action in my life. I understand, though, that sometimes people have to work on Sunday’s and that is fine for them. I do not want to force people into what I’ve decided for myself.

However, I read scriptures every day.

I pray every day.

I go to church on Sunday.

I hold a calling (a position of responsibility) whenever I am able – at present I am a clerk.

These are things that I do and they are not always easy. I’ve told people, over the years, that sometimes you go to church because you’ve always gone to church. In many cases I am told that I am wrong in that assessment because, as an active member of the church, you don’t just do things because you’ve always done them, that this is counter to what we are taught as members of the church.

God said, “Be ye therefore perfect.” I say that is an ideal. Is it nice and positive to say that being perfect is an ideal? No. But at the same time you (and I) are not likely to achieve that in our collective lifetimes. This is where the principle of grace plays an important role in religious progression. We can never achieve perfection and yet we are commanded to be perfect. If we cannot achieve it and we are commanded to become it, then something has to happen to help us achieve perfect. In this case, an intermediary is made a part of our lives. As long as we apply specific principles: pray, read scriptures, go to church, etc.; then you will be made perfect after death. It is an ideal.

One of the elements to this ideal is that you have to do what you can in this life. The outcome is that the distance will be made up. This life is not always easy. Sometimes it is very hard. Sometimes it is impossibly hard. But you plow forward knowing, hoping, praying, that you will accomplish something. This is hope. Hope, simply defined, is experience and expectation. Believe it or not, it comes after faith. As faith is an active principle, and hope is an aspect to faith, the outcome is that one precedes the other. In order to have experiences, you have to put yourself in a position to have those experiences. In order to have expectations, you have to put yourself in a position where you can know what to expect. Reading scriptures, prayer, communion with deity leads to these expectations. Going back to the beatitudes and reading them, seeing what Christ taught to new converts, and applying it in your life, leads to an increase in understanding of faith and hope.

This all leads to attaining perfection and it is perfection religion, scriptures, and communion with deity, tell us we need to succeed in mortality.

However, to succeed means that sometimes we slog through times when we don’t, necessarily, believe or want to believe and yet we do it anyway because sometimes you do what you have to do simply because you have always done it. That is how you get to a point where you read scriptures every day. That is how you get to a point where you pray often. That is how you get to a point where you go to church on Sunday. That is how all of this happens. It is not by miraculous design. It is not by mistake. And it is not by accident. You do these things because you have always done them, because you want to do them, and because, somewhere inside, you want to do them.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Zach Johnson | Bond. James Bond

Posted by smokingpen at 4:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I don’t often delve into the forum of religion (specifically mine) on this blog (or anywhere for that matter). It shouldn’t come as any surprise that I am LDS (Mormon); that I attend an LDS sponsored Univeristy where, being a member of that church, I get a discount on tuition; nor should it be a surprise that I am active within my local congregation – though not because I need it to attend school (that is true); though being active means I can attend school.

Today in a History of Christianity class taught by a professor of Religion on campus, we were, briefly, introduced to the monastic theory of life. The word monk is derived from the Greek word monos meaning alone or solitary. The second half of monastic is derived from ascetic which also comes from the Greek askesis which means to exercise in a physical sense.

The term monk carries with it the notion of a solitary life. To be a priest of the Church (Catholic – you decide which version) also meant a monos or solitary life – dedicated to the church and God first, through which your actions would seem pure and simple by serving, as Christ served, those around you. In a parish this would mean the parishioners or, back to Christ, the flock. However, as a monk the objective was, separate from everyone else, to grow closer to God through silent meditation removed from the world. As a cursory examination of the monastic life, the monk would spend time growing closer to the Spirit (e.g. God) through silent and persistent meditation, rarely returning to the world because exposure to the world removed one from the pure communion that exists between God and the monastic servants.

This is not exactly conducive to LDS theology. Meaning, as a church we believe the best way to serve (and grow closer to) God is to serve the people around you. This is not limited to a parish or a specific flock, but rather an expansion of the notion of neighbor presented by Christ to a certain man. Asked of Christ: ”…And who is my neighbor?”

30. And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.
31. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.
32. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.
33. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,
34. And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.
35. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.
36. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?
37. And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.
(New Testament | Luke 10:30 - 37)

This definition offers a very broad view of who our neighbor is and should be. What this is meant to illustrate is that the monastic life is one that is… abhorrent (?) to the Lord because, in essence, you are removing yourself from the presence of society as a whole thereby removing yourself from the opportunity to serve. This opportunity is essential (in my opinion) to proper worship; and yet, through strong Greek influence, the monastic lifestyle took hold in early Christianity and caused men (and women) to remove themselves from society as pious believers and followers of a flawed order (again, this is my opinion).

And yet, the ideal of silence, of silent, thoughtful worship is not counter to proper religious worship and understanding. In the monastic structure the belief can simply be stated that the individual can most effectively grow closer to God through persistent, constant, silent meditation. In essence, you give away all that you have, all that you are, in order to obtain mercy from God. And yet, where does the notion of neighbor play into the overarching scope of what it means to truly worship God?

As an active member of the LDS church I get the opportunity to serve within whatever congregation I am a member of. At present (because I am single) this is limited to specific areas. My current “calling” is as a ward clerk. When the Bishop (principle ecclesiastic and temporal authority over the congregation) asked me what I thought about having my name put forward for the calling his initial statement was something like, “How would you feel about going after the lost sheep?” Meaning, there were members of our congregation that had not been to church, had not attended meetings, or had moved and not had their records moved that were unknown to the ward leadership (e.g. the Bishop and his two councilors). It would become (I believe this may still be accurate) my responsibility to find and record these “lost sheep,” which in turn means hitting the pavement to find them.

This is not exclusive of human contact. It is not monastic. Instead, it is a very open and outgoing position that requires me to be something other than what I normally enjoy – the loan wolf. I think this represents how the LDS church represents its core theological beliefs. We are to go out into the world and attempt to bring people to Christ through our example, our actions, and, where necessary, through concerted efforts in teaching. We are not to teach or convert through coercion, through force, through trickery, or through other abhorrent means. The calling of a missionary is a public and direct calling out in the world where the missionary is among people but, at the same time, through Christ separate from them.

Therein lies the rub. Religious tradition would dictate that silent meditation is the best, and most direct, way to get to God. The monastic lifestyle, though appealing to me, would mean permanently separating myself from society, leaving behind my worldy possessions and the things I like, hold dear, and dedicating myself, twenty-four/seven, to silent, contemplative worship of deity. The result would be, someday, that I would achieve a measure of exaltation through my forgoing the world in order to worship the Savior.

There are examples, in current canon, where people have separated themselves from society for a time to commune (converse) with God. In the Old Testament, Moses went on the Mount (Sinai) to converse with God for 40 days at a stint. In some instances he was accompanied by his brother or other elders, in most instances he was alone hearing, being taught, and learning to understand the word of God.

Christ went into the wilderness (the desert) to commune with His Father (we call him Heavenly Father or God) and as such, spent a period of (supposed) solitude conversing with God, being taught, and (presumably) learning to understand his role.

In the Book of Mormon we have other examples. Specifically, Enos went into the woods and conversed with God through prayer. The Brother of Jared went into the mountains to converse with God, alone, and as a result saw the finger of God. Nephi went to the top of the mountains to receive direction (alone) and came back with knowledge on how to build a ship. His descendent, Nephi, also spent time alone on his tower praying to God and causing such a stir at his mourning for his people, had attention drawn to his solitary act and was able to preach and prophesy the Word to the Nephites (who had begun to apostatize).

The idea of a silent, monastic life has some foundation; but in following that life we forget that we are also called to serve others. We are called to be out in the world, living our lives, and helping out wherever we can. We are instructed to be like the Samaritan, who was abhorrent to the Jews because of his mixed breeding, and help out anyone who needs our help. A Jew on the side of the road who was ignored by a priest and a Levite who ignored him on their way. Did they have good cause? Possibly. Christ doesn’t tell us more about them other than their status in the Jewish society; but the Samaritan, someone who was considered as dross, chose to stop, help, pay for the injured man’s lodging and care, and promised that if he did not provide enough money would give more on his return visit.

Being a monk (to me) means leaving behind the headaches that come in dealing with other people. Admittedly, it is a struggle, some days, to deal with the people around me. Not that I don’t like them or appreciate them, but because we see life from totally different spectrums. It sometimes feels like I am around a lot of people who allegedly believe the same things I do and constantly miss the point. With that said, it is probably me that misses the point; but leaving society, people, the world behind me is not going to draw me closer to God. Rather, that concerted effort for long periods of time, though good in the short run, becomes counter-productive and I don’t grow closer to God, but rather build distance between me and deity.

There are places, as members of the LDS church, where you can go and be quiet. The most notable of these is the Temple. There are a lot of them and as I am in Utah, I believe we counted 13 operational or under construction (read announced) temples. For most people, a short drive, and you are removed from the hustle and bustle of the world. You get to meditate on life, on self, on things pertaining to God and, in the process, grow closer. The temple, according to LDS theology, is literally the House of God or where God may be among his people. As this is the case, you remove the negative influences of the world by 1) being personally worthy to enter God’s house; and 2) through his authority that made it a sanctified place.

At the same time, if you want to be more like examples from canon, you can go into the woods and spend some solitary time there with your thoughts and with God discussing, through prayer, the ideas that you have while trying to prepare yourself to receive an answer. Answers don’t always come immediately or quickly, but they do come. They are not blasts of light or knowledge, an audible voice, and often represent a feeling or impression, something that urges you in a direction; though the stronger feelings can come. These feelings, though, come through quiet contemplation, sincere meditation, and preparation by the individual to grow closer to deity. They require observance of commandments and expectations. They require that you be a part of the world but not of the world and only through this practice can you achieve the connection (communion) with God that you desire.

Another place is in your room at night before bed: study, pray, ponder, meditate. These are the elements that are necessary for the individual to grow closer to God, to His son, and ultimately, it is probably a collection of these silent moments that build together to form a greater understanding (and communion) with God. You can’t just dedicate your life to a monastic philosophy and hope that God will, one day, decide to commune with you. If you are not, inherently, doing your part in the process (“Feed my sheep, feed my lambs”) than communion may never happen.

You can turn off the radio in your car and spend the time in careful and quiet contemplation. If I am driving alone and I know I am going to be hours on the road I like to have a running dialogue with God where I speak, out loud, my thoughts and feelings, I weigh what I am feeling in response, and ultimately, I feel better for having done it. Granted, this is not always silent – though some trips are made in complete silence (outside of the road noise and hum of the motor), but the solitary nature of the journey helps me to embark on a personal journey that helps me draw closer to God. In short, I grow closer to true communion with God (I feel) when I prepare myself in advance and then spend hours in verbal and silent conversation with Him.

The idea of silence as a concerted and temporary effort may be unique to other Christian faiths. I think as an LDS member of the church it isn’t a bad idea to take oneself out of the world, for a time, and just contemplate things that are beyond mortal understanding and mortal comprehension. We are flawed in that we grow old and die in a relatively short space of time. One of the defining characteristics of God is that he existed before the world was and will continue to exist after the world ceases to exist. In essence, according to science, He’s been around for millions of years (at least) and this time reference gives Him an understanding that far surpasses our.

I think that moments of silence are precious and should be sought after. I think we can grow closer to God by finding moments of silence where we can, temporarily, separate ourselves out of the world. I think that a monastic belief is counter-productive to the overall schema of religious growth. I also think that we should seek after all things that are good and lovely and silence is both good and lovely in its place.

One of the tenets to LDS theology is that most things are good in moderation. We talk about eating meats in their season, and grains in their season; we talk about exercise, about reading the scriptures, about all sorts of things that, taken out of context and used out of moderation become bad things. The problem is that what would be out of moderation for me is not necessarily out of moderation for someone else. What is out of control for someone else may not be for me. We are not asked what is our point of moderation, though, but commanded to be faithful in all things. Within the LDS theology one of those things is The Word of Wisdom.

Can someone find a level of moderation in what is forbidden in The Word of Wisdom? Absolutely. But we are not given that as an option. We are not, literally, given a monastic life as an option. We are not asked to give up the world for a strictly religious life. We are not asked to forgo human contact in lieu of spiritual contact. We are not told to do a lot of things that zealots choose to do with their lives because they see one road, they resonate with that road, and in the end they follow that path to its conclusion. In monastic theology the conclusion is a complete separation from the world with concerted, and consistent, daily worship in silence.

This is not something LDS theology follows, nor do I think it something LDS theology will follow. In short, we are to be members of communities, giving back, helping those we can help and those we come across on our travels, we are required to serve within the church, to worship in our meetings, to lift up others in their worship, to visit those who need visiting – in its essence, we are required to be neighbors to all those we come in contact with. We are required to love all people; but, at the same time, we are expected to find moments of silence, of personal time, of contemplation where we can, for a brief moment, draw closer to God. It is through the principle of loving ones neighbor that we achieve true growth, enlightenment, and communion.

Look for moments of silence; seek for those whose lives you can be a part of.

Posted by smokingpen at 6:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was in class the other day and the professor got up and asked a question. I don’t remember what the question was or why we’d gotten off on talking about how one lives their religion, but it seemed to me that the conversation quickly delved into appropriate dress for church, meetings, and (for men) Priesthood responsibilities.

Then the topic of white shirts came up and someone said, “I think that you wear a white shirt to set yourself apart from how you dress the rest of the week.”

The professor asked, “What about seminary teachers? They wear white shirts everyday.”

There are other professions that do the same thing. I said, “I don’t wear a white shirt, in part, because of my mission. I don’t think that makes me any less of an individual because I choose not to wear white shirts.”

NOTE: I do wear white when I go to the temple; I own a white shirt for that express purpose.

Anyway, it was then talked about how traditionally people wear certain things. Men wear white shirts and women wear pantyhose. I pointed out that I knew someone who doesn’t wear pantyhose anymore because of her mission. I’d imagine I probably know many people who fall into that category; that’s really not the point. Rather, sometimes we get caught in the trap of tradition placing it ahead of other elements in our lives that might be more important. Especially the element of choosing to live your religion.

As I sat there the thought occurred to me: We should be living our religion in such a way that it shouldn’t matter what we wear on any day of the week because the people around us should be able to tell that, as an individual, I am somehow different. Meaning, a white shirt shouldn’t have to be my uniform if I am living my religion properly. Often, though, it is the way we choose to show that we are going to church or are doing something different with our lives; by putting on a white shirt and tie.

Tradition isn’t a bad thing. It is through tradition that we have the Standard Works. It is through tradition that much of our religious dogma (Catholic, meaning pure and Protestant) has been handed down for two-thousand years. We gather our practices because of what was kept for us by other authors and religionists and that, in part, is a direct result of tradition. The practice of tradition isn’t bad; but it can be misguided.

Wearing white shirts is not required. I am sure that for a 70 or an Apostle within the LDS church it is probably required. I know that when I applied for a job at the MTC (missionary training center) they required that I show up for work everyday in a white shirt and tie even though I would have no direct contact with the missionaries within the center. I know that various other church related jobs require that the individual wear white shirts and ties to work (like seminary teacher). And I know that when it comes to proper Sunday worship, a white shirt and tie is not necessary or required.

And yet, I sit in church on Sunday and watch twelve members of the Aaronic Priesthood pass the sacrament in white shirts, ties, and coats. It is amazing to see. I was a Deacon’s Quorum President and having six boys show up dressed in white was an amazing feat; especially since I didn’t feel it (always) necessary to dress in white back then either. It was more likely, but that doesn’t mean it was always going to happen.

My father taught, “White shirts and ties are the uniform of the priesthood,” and I don’t disagree with him. But what uniform is it? Is it the uniform of every priesthood brother. Of every bishop? Stake President? Elder’s Quorum President? Priest? Teacher? Deacon? And Elder? I really don’t think so. I do think that it is required for Missionaries, the Elders, and for General Authorities and is probably encouraged for Stake Presidents and Bishops, but in the latter two cases I am also pretty certain that it is not required just encouraged.

Just because my father taught me something doesn’t make it right. I’d share other examples of what might not be right, but that’s not going to happen. It’s not my place to show the faults or follies of that man. I believe that what (and how) he taught me was for my benefit and learning and as an adult as I choose to apply those teachings I only benefit from his experience, teachings, wisdom, and opinions.

But it is tradition to wear white. Some people claim that it represents purity. The professor in class pointed out that with white shirts often come black pants. So, with a pair of black slacks does that mean you are representing impurity and that the dress is a metaphor for the battle between dark and light, good and evil. It’s not.

Ties were, initially, bibs that protected clothing from food. And yet, they’ve become a part of fashion. Traditionally, when dressing up, you wear a tie. It actually distracts the eye from a stark image. It also accentuates the clothing and colors being worn. But, ties are, in essence, a long-term fad.

Being clean shaved is a long term fad. I know that, again, it is current tradition to not have facial hair; and I know that I hate facial hair so my personal preferences and tradition go hand in hand here; but when the church was organized and for a lot of years afterward the leadership all had beards. Times change. People change. And now we don’t have facial hair. But it is still tradition. Again, there are a few callings (and jobs) that require you to shave (see list above), but outside of those it is encouraged not required.

Living your religion, ultimately, is something that you have to do for you. What you wear may be an aspect of that; but, if you are truly living your religion in a way that exemplifies God you will stand out from the crowd. There will be no need for Sunday attire because your everyday attire is probably good enough. This does mean that you might choose to have something slightly nicer, or absolutely nicer, than your work-a-day clothing that you would wear to church and that is appropriate; but the outcome is also that chances are you won’t of necessity or requirement need to wear white because some people think it is the only color you as a priesthood holder should wear. (NOTE: this argument can also work for sisters and pantyhose.) Rather, you will be living your religion every day and the need to put on something special won’t matter because you don’t need that reminder of who and what you are.

White is nice, in its place, and I believe that it is an appropriate color to wear. However, I choose not to and I also believe that, at this point in my life, that is also okay.

John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Zach Johnson | Bond. James Bond

Posted by smokingpen at 2:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Rebecca sent me a link to a CNN.com article in response to my post about Christmas the other day. The article can be found here. I found it very interesting. First, in the secularization of Christmas and second in the notion that a rabbi can walk into an airport and demand something to be done and a) he is listened to, b) the management of the airport don’t have the experience to know when someone shouldn’t be listened to, and c) he was listened to. The dude was given some semblance of credibility and the airport management complied with his demands.

This is, in my opinion, akin to a little child walking up to his/her mother and demanding whatever he/she wanted and the mother complying in direct opposition to her knowing better. “I want a cookie.” Mom gets one. “I want to watch TV.” Mom turns it on. “I want to eat dessert first.” Mom complied. “I want candy.” Mom gets it. “I want…” “I want…” “I want...”

Granted, the example is relatively poor in that there are millions of children who scream and parents comply; but take the example one step further and the child saying, “I want to smoke.” “I want to drink alcohol.” “I want poison.” And the mom complying. In this case the mother would be charged, tried, and convicted of reckless endangerment and possibly accessory to murder if not murder in some degree because children don’t know any better and parents are meant to teach them the difference between good and bad and right and wrong and a parent who gives in to a child isn’t doing that.

And, “Yes,” this is parenting advice as much as it is a criticism against the airport managers who caved in on the rabbi.

I don’t know who the rabbi is, but I’d imagine he is probably young. And yes, it is a he. He is probably hot headed. And the outcome is that the rabbi made a series of uneducated and bad decisions and because the airport, for any length of time, allowed him to get away with it he will believe that he is inherently in the right the next time he goes somewhere and gets offended at something that isn’t meant to offend.

Do you get that? It’s a Happy Celebration of Christ and people are nitpicking over greetings and becoming offended at the notion that we need less religious significance and more secularization. This isn’t a season of buy lots of gifts. It is a season of love, peace, and joy. Those are religious elements. We may remove the reason for the season (Christ) from the picture, but the outcome is patience, tolerance, understanding, love, peace, and joy – or in the very least, the pursuit of them.

Posted by smokingpen at 7:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The sad news for today, as I drove into work, was that Pope John Paul II had died. For those of you that know me, and my religious background, know that I am not Catholic. However, Pope John Paul II was a stalwart keeper of his faith, he did not waiver when it came to issues that are important to me, no amount of bickering within the church or pressure from without would cause him to change his mind or alter the way the Catholic church functions, and in the end he stood up for, literally, what he believed as a Catholic and a Christian.

Further, his works throughout the world, expanding the humanitarian efforts, the amount of travel he did, etc. has been enormous. His has been an amazing life to watch and one that will probably be canonized by the Catholic Church when the appropriate time frame has elapsed. He will be missed and I am sorry to hear that he has passed on - even though he hit the top of my 'death watch' list over the past several weeks.

And yes, I do have a death watch list. There are some pretty interesting names on it. People that, when you wake up in the morning and for some reason they've come into the news; whether due to illness or a crime, or just because something is being written about them. Regardless, occasionally you just sit back and see someone and wonder why that person is still alive. In other cases you just realize that this person, or another, is on their last leg and may die.

Over the past two or three weeks Terri Shiavo rocketed to the top of that list. I couldn't care less whether or not someone who'd been in a persistent vegetative state for fourteen or fifteen years dies. Further, I couldn't care less whether or not someone I don't know and who holds little or no significance to me lives or dies. That is to say, Terri Shiavo holds no concern for me and because she holds no concern for me my interest in the case has more to do with the law and politics surrounding her state, her family, and her stated or implied wishes before the incident that caused her to be in the state she was in. Because of the media attention and because I believe that we have a certain level of rights associated with determining whether or not we choose to live on life support, and because the laws of the land can affect me and my family someday in this area (I wouldn't want to be kept alive artificially) this case was important to me. Someday I would hope my wife would do the right thing, by me, and let me pass on if the only thing keeping me alive were some kind of feeding tube or other artificial means. At the same time I completely respect other peoples rights to decide to remain alive, in hope, rather than pass on to the other side.

Other people on my list would include Queen Elizabeth II, Muhamed Ali, and others. Most are old, some are young. At times some people become higher ranked and others, still, aren't on the list at all and then become very highly placed so that, when I wake up in the morning, I check to see what has happened with them. Pope John Paul II and Terri Shiavo literally had me checked news sites and listening to news channels on the radio to determine whether or not they were alive or had passed on.

With all of that said, I do not wish people would just die. Death is an end, I believe that, and it is a beginning for that individual and their families; however, to wish someone would die is wrong and I believe that as well. Being on a death watch, as long as it doesn't affect my interaction with people or how I live my life, I think isn't bad thing. With the Catholic Church we get to watch when, in about fifteen days, the College of Cardinals convenes at St. Peters Basilica in Rome and elects a new pope. This is exciting because, like in my own church, the direction the church goes, though steady, will in part be determined by the man elected to take them their. In Pope John Paul II's position, he maintained that abstinence was church doctrine, that homo-sexuality was counter to God's will, and that the church would still only be led by men.

Now, the LDS church doesn't 'elect' a new prophet. The succession is very different and the direction of the church doesn't radically change when one prophet dies and another takes his place; however, as in President Kimball's case the church began to move radically forward with the adoption of technology in the performance of church functions and record keeping. President Hinckley is a temple building president and in ten years he has increased the number of temples in the world by more than 100%. President Benson encouraged the membership to read the Book of Mormon. Each president follows the guiding principles established by Joseph Smith and the rest of the prophets, but in each case, each president follows what he feels is the right course for the church at the right time.

Change is a period of excitement, for me, and in the case of the Catholic Church I look forward to the change that is about to happen. Only good things can come from this.

Posted by smokingpen at 12:30 AM | Permalink

I have begun to notice that many of my thoughts are beginning to rotate around the date of my move from Utah to Boston. There are the events that took place before the move and those that take place since the move. Nothing that crosses over between the two seems to matter, much, to me. It either happened before or after. Not during.

During that period of time when I was moving it was all about those four days on the road. I was in the truck with Andy. We drove. Occasionally we stopped because Debbie and the girls needed to stop. But in the long run, it was about being on the road for twelve hours a day for four days. They were long, not necessarily comfortable, and in the end I was happy to see the 2500 miles of road behind us. That was during the move.

Before the move I planned, prepared, scoped, looked, thought, prayed, and did whatever else was appropriate or necessary, within my purview of this change, to prepare for life on the Right coast - this is the East coast for those who look at a map and can't adjust to left and right. The Left coast is the Pacific, the Right is the Atlantic. My thoughts were centered on how this would affect those around me, the reasons I was moving, the reasons I'd gotten to this point, constantly asking "why" in relation to the move, and several other variations related to family and friends. It never really occurred to me that the move itself might prove to be difficult.

But moving is difficult. I am beginning to believe that it doesn't really matter whether you move with a caravan of people, family included, or you move alone. There are changes that have to take place. You have to gather around you new people, make new contacts, struggle for new opportunities, and in the end make decisions based off of notions that may, or may not, be acceptable within the new purview that you find yourself in. In my case, I'd never been to Boston before and making the decision to move here, to accept that this was the right change for me, to do that as a part of my 'new' life was a little overwhelming. In essence, I'd decided to change everything about who I was for some notion of what I might become. So I packed up my things, gave a lot of my stuff away, stored my books (which proved to be very hard for me) and relocated to a new part of the world. It is, I'd imagine, like the pioneers or Saints as they left what was familiar for what was completely unfathomable in the west. Except, in my case, I was leaving what was comfortable for what I thought was going to be a cake walk.

This is not to say that I am naive enough to believe that this whole affair wasn't going to require changes and adaptations. Both have been taking place; both have been occurring; both will continue to occur. I meet people all of the time and one observer (thanks Larry) suggested that I have a tendency to have interesting people around me all of the time. I don't know how true that is, though I guess I can see the interesting persons that have been in my life - or some of them, but I do know that sometimes relying upon the observations of friends and relatives to get a better handle of a situation has some wisdom in it.

One of things that have happened to me is that I have become a little melancholy toward the loss of so many good friends. I left them all behind because I knew that it was time for me to move. That knowledge hasn't change, though my internal timeframe isn't the same as a realistic timeframe I guess, but I miss my family and I miss my friends. I can call them. That's true. But what I want is to be able to jump in a car and drive to a house and just hang out. That's not been a reality since getting here. I don't own a car and just the other day it occurred to me that one of the best solutions to malaise was to put on clothes, grab my backpack, and walk to the store. The store, just so you know, is about four or five miles away. So, I walked to the store. It felt great until I was about halfway back to the house I am living in with Andy and Debbie and their two girls, then my legs started to rebel and the sickness that had kept me at home the day before started to flair up and the result was that I started to feel the change all around me.

Not feeling well is definitely not one of those things you want to have happen when everything else around you is in a rapid state of flux. And I have not been feeling all that well. Different parts of my life feel as though they have been ripped from my hands and that is never a positive feeling. It's a rather negative one. Yet, as I contemplate and fight the temptation to give into impulse and the ease of returning to what is comfortable, I find there is an amount of comfort in knowing that I made this decision for the right reasons. The changes that take place, they take place after the move. I grow, after the move. I meet new people, after the move. Everything that is happening to me, right now, is happening after the move. And it will continue to do so.

Posted by smokingpen at 11:07 PM | Permalink