I'm currently grappling with ideas of where my alliances lie--with respect to friends, to community, and to institutions (like the Church).* After thinking long and hard about this yesterday, I've decided that my greatest loyalty of these, by far, is to my friends. Hands down. As I've said before, I do have the bestest friends.
So one of these friends was teaching today. And as he's someone who'll be moving on soon, I wanted very much to support him and to savor this opportunity to learn from him and the ways that he views the world. What a pleasant surprise to arrive at the meeting and discover that his lesson was on Matthew 11:28-30. These are, perhaps, the three verses of the Bible that have seen me though more dark nights than any other. They've been a balm to my raw wounds, especially those that festered so painfully after my father died. Such beautiful sentiments and promises, therein. Despite my current unbelief in LDS doctrine, these memories are still precious to me.
Sitting there, it was difficult, at first, to concentrate on the lesson. I'm so used to quiet, to letting Spirit wash over me in that silence of Quaker worship, that the words were disruptive. I had a hard time moving from thought to thought through the lesson. I wanted time to pause, to let it sink in. But of course it doesn't work that way in LDS practice. So when the words and ideas were moving too quickly I let my gaze rest on my brothers and sisters in the room. I was surprised to see so many familiar faces given the gianormous size of the ward. That was joy. I sent my love to each of them and I hope they felt it. I hope that my presence there didn't make it difficult for anyone else to feel uplifted. I hope that the example of the love of Christ (for, from, and like Christ--as JW so eloquently articulated in his lesson) is a lingua franca that can overcome any barriers or frustrations that others may feel for me. And I for them.
*Notes: 1) The wings reference is from this poem. 2) My loyalties to myself, to John, and to my children trump those to friends, but those aren't what I've been fretting about lately...
"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
9 comments:
Hey Jana, I was certainly happy to see you there today. I have to admit that my own loyalties are very often divided, and that I sometimes feel hypocritical about allowing people to assume things about me that are not the case. In the lesson, I tried to distill the ideas to what I feel is most useful about Christianity: that there is some way for you to feel okay about where things are going, and you needn't be demoralized by your own failings and those of others. This is not something that gets taught very often in Mormonism. In fact, as I was reflecting on the lesson, it occurred to me that the very idea of there being "three degrees of glory" is already (ALWAYS) a notion of "earned" salvation (how do you even quantify your degree of Celestial-ness without adopting a completely works-centered idea of exaltation?).
But the ultimate point of my lesson is that I really feel you can get to a point when you no longer even need God or the idea of God to do what is good. I'm someone who very seldom finds it necessary for God to be involved in things. Even if he exists (and I don't really worry if he does, to be honest), my relationship with him is such that we're both okay these days without his constant intervention. I try to be good because it is good (tautological, sure, but it seems to work).
And one of the things that I can't help thinking is inherently "good" is community (and friends). I have no scientific evidence for this, but I'm convinced that we're hard-wired to be with other people--that we can't be "complete" unless we are around others. But with this need for the Other comes a certain number of challenges. We worry about who we are individually, and about how we are perceived by the Other. We want to be honest, and we want to say what is at our center. And so we sometimes feel strangely disconnected, disassociated. We are alone WITH the Other.
I sometimes wonder, which anxiety will we choose? To speak Truth to the Other, and have the anxiety of being cut off? Or to not speak Truth to the Other, and have the anxiety of the uncanny disassociation we sometimes feel? Now, one can do one’s best to find an Other that accepts our Truth (and for me, that’s Brooke), and there is no greater happiness. But there are other times when you cannot choose the Other (as, for example, the fact that my parents and siblings always, and will always be Mormon). And in these cases, it’s my deepest hope that we can find some way of negotiating some form of Truth and yet keep open our relationship with that Other. That is, walk BETWEEN these anxieties, somehow. To speak Truth to the Other, and yet do so in a way that maintains community. And the key to that negotiation, I think, is presence. Which is all just to say, I hope we get to see more of the Remy’s at church!
P.S. you’ll be seeing me for a while longer. Since no jobs really worked out, we’ll be in Irvine for the next year.
John, whoo-hoo! Selfishly, I'm glad you will be staying another year. It's hard for me to contemplate living here without you and Brooke and the Remy's. And that was a fabulous lesson. I loved every second of it. Here's to hoping that more of our regular teachers get sick! (clink)
Jana, how fun it was to see you in S.S. I'm sure it was a huge change from that healing silence you experience at Quaker meeting, but shaking things up once in a while is probably a good thing. At least that's my philosophy.
I too at the moment am struggling with loyalities. To you, to exponent II, to raw honesty, to sensitive tact, to Mike, to my own spiritual needs... the list goes on. Glad to know I'm not alone in trying to work loyalty issues out.
R. John - I think your response here is one of the most profoundly honest and touching "testimonies" - if you will - that I have heard in a long time. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself here! It is this type of wholesome, challenging, and provoking thought that keeps me interested and intrigued in religion in general, and even more specifically, the religious tradition I was brought up in (Mormonism).
I like your description of the dichotomous situation of choosing either the anxiety of being cut off from speaking the truth, or the anxiety of disassociation from not speaking the truth? It is a grand and courageous idea, in my opinion, to try to find the space between - to walk in between these two anxieties, as you say.
In regards to the parents/siblings/family that will always be Mormon, I wonder what it would mean for them to walk in between. I felt my mom take a large step to the "in between" place for the first time in a LONG time just a couple of months ago when, while visiting me here in CA, she attended IUCC with me (where I very much like and feel comfortable attending Sunday services). An even more meaningful step, for my husband and for me, would be if either one of our families would step toward the "in between" by acknowledging that, whether for this time in our lives or for the rest of our lives, we are better off participating in a different religious community than they are. I know that it may be painful or uncomfortable for them to acknowledge such a thing, but I feel it would be no more painful or uncomfortable than it would be for my husband and I to participate weekly in a religous community I didn't think was right for us.
I try to take steps toward the in between by participating in institute classes, continuing to read LDS literature, and maintaining an open mind and heart toward Joseph Smith, finding common ground in some of the beautiful and complex teachings and doctrines of Mormonism. Many of which I still feel affinity toward. I wonder if my parents/siblings/family/in-laws realize that these are steps on my part toward the in between? I hope that they do, just as I hope that I am able to recognize and acknowledge their steps toward me, to that in between place - I think steps toward the middle from both sides is the only way to maintain community.
I think that the open lines of communication and continuing embrace of less- and non-committed members by fully commited members is key in the quest to maintain community. Thank you for your role in that.
(I deleted the earlier comments because I responded earlier to Journeygal thinking I was responding to Jana, but Brooke caught my mistake, so I'm re-posting that):
Journeygal,
I do think it's heartening to see your family and others learning to walk "in between" (or as I sometimes more cheekily call it "in isostacy"). And certainly your going to church (if only to support friends), going to Sunstone, Study Group--all of these are courageous efforts to negotiate the in-between. I think it sometimes difficult to remember how discursively complete and absolute it can be to be an orthodox Mormon, so they may not understand that these moves on your part are reconciliatory gestures.
In any case, I admit, freely, that it’s one of my goals is to help liberalize the church, to make it more ecumenical, and to help others to locate at least an occasional intellectual aperture (just a little window into imagining “otherwise”). And really, the response to my lesson today was so positive that I started to wonder whether a lot of Mormons are not hungry for something other than the dogmatic austerity of McConkie’s minions.
Still, I am glad that I do not teach all the time. It is a real challenge to come up with something that I feel comfortable teaching, and that will both inspire and challenge the saints that I love (and so often disagree with politically, etc). I am not even sure sometimes that I am doing the right thing. But I proceed with love, and speak in tentative flashes of Truth. And I hope it helps.
I enjoyed this post and all of the comments that followed. Obviously, they speak to my complicated relationship to my Truth and my inherited faith community and family. Since I did not attend the lesson, I'd be grateful if RJW or anyone else could distill or recap the general outline of the lesson.
Also, next time John teaches SS someone give me a heads up so I can attend. What time do your Irvine-ites have church?
Thanks.
Harbor Hills Ward meets from 9-12 in the stake center adjacent to the NB temple. RJohn is a substitute SS teacher so his lessons are infrequent. I'm hoping, though, that he'll make sure and let us all know when he teaches again. :)
My neighbor brought his solid maple and oak yoke (Amish-made no less) for our lesson on those same verses in Matt. I enjoyed seeing the actual thing and hefting it and contemplating the meaning behind the Savior's words.
I'm so sorry to have missed RJohn's lesson! And sorry that no one has been smart enough to snap him up for a job yet. But not sorry that RJohn and Brooke will be in Irvine a bit longer ... the world at large's loss is our gain, at least for a little while.
With regard to community ... I think it is necessary. I do think that we are each fundamentally alone. I could spend my whole lifetime with someone, and still not understand the unimagineable intricacies of that one human being. But it is the *desire* to understand, to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, to learn from and about, and to teach also, that creates bonds between people. That we can actively choose our friends, and create our own communities has been one of the highlights of my life.
And yet, family (one of the most important aspects of our lives, and yet one in which we have very litttle say) is extremely important. I don't know of anyone who hasn't been centrally affected by family ties (whether positively or negatively). Blood ties are thick and strong, even when we don't want them to be.
I like how Journeygal has described trying to create a new space in which to meet with family, when the old or extremely new spaces aren't accomodating. I think it speaks to trying to understand each other, instead of shouting each other down from opposing trenches. I understand that creating new spaces can be terrifying, but it comforts me that love can propel us beyond our fear.
Thanks for sharing, Jana. I count you among my dearest friends. I don't quite know where your path will take you. But I'll always want to claim a moment of your time, to pull you into our space, to find out where and why you've been, and how you found it. I've learnt some of my best lessons with you.
Rich: I'm curious, how big & heavy was the yoke? Did you put it over your shoulders? :)
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