Abraham, Igor Stravinsky, and Han Solo Walk Into a Blog...

Over the last few months, I've read several well-written pieces on Mormon culture and the Mormon community, mostly by people who identify as Mormons.  There has been a lot of discussion about the Church, its doctrines, and its practices since early November 2015, when a policy change intended to be made quietly was leaked on the internet.

A few of these articles bring up a question that I find difficult, so naturally the thinker/rebel/social scientist (take your pick) in me thinks it would be fun to engage with it.

What if Abraham was wrong?

Just in case you don't know the story, Abraham was one of the first biblical patriarchs.  The bible says that God promised Abraham a son by his wife, Sarah, who was very, very old--we usually assume she was well past typical child-bearing age.  God said that son would be the father of many nations.  When that son, Isaac, was born, Abraham and Sarah took it as a miracle, a blessing.  A few years later, an angel commanded Abraham to kill Isaac in a ritual religious sacrifice that usually would have involved an animal.  Abraham obeyed, and the angel appeared and stopped him at the last second, often depicted with the knife at Isaac's throat.  Usually, Mormons and other Christians celebrate Abraham's willingness to submit to God's commands.

That reading of the story is certainly valid.  After all, the biblical account says pretty explicitly that it was a test of Abraham's faith and obedience.  If that's what you get from the story, you're not wrong.  I've started to see a different meaning that I believe is just as valid.

A little background: this is coming from the perspective that the Old Testament was the national history of an underdog conqueror.  In other words, when a relatively small group of slaves successfully overthrew their world-superpower masters, they earned the privilege to write their own origin story.  I have no doubt that some of the Genesis account really happened.  I also have no doubt that some of it is an embellishment, a retcon (changing details in an earlier episode so the later ones make more sense), or a fabrication.  I believe this does not detract from the value of the Old Testament--on the contrary, believing that it's not 100% factual allows me to see more layers of meaning in every line on every page.  In this light, I see Abraham's story as a retcon, with the explicitly stated moral added later.

So, like I already mentioned, I've been wondering lately:

What if he missed the point?

What if God wasn't testing Abraham's obedience, but rather his ability to make informed decisions consistent with divinely inspired values and morals?  What if God wanted Abraham to say something like "No, this is my own flesh and blood.  God gave this kid to us when we thought it was impossible.  God told me to raise him, protect him, and get him ready for big things ahead.  That's what I'm going to do"?  If it really was a test of obedience, then Abraham did what I could never do--there are moments when my kid is my reason for living, and then nothing hurts like the thought of losing her, let alone causing her harm myself.  But I think it also could have been a test of conviction and dedication to the job he already had, being Isaac's dad.  If that's the case, then he failed miserably.  And we can learn from his failure.

The God I believe in lets us make our own decisions.  Sometimes our decisions bring our lives into harmony with God's will and plan, and sometimes our decisions bring discord.  Sometimes, it's like listening to Bach or Palestrina, and we can pick up on rhythm, meter, melody, key, and chord even if we haven't studied music.  It just sounds nice, even without knowing why.  Other times, it's like your first listen to Berg's Wozzeck or Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.  (If you don't know those pieces, go look them up.  I mean right now.  I'll wait.). The first time I heard those pieces, I grimaced and thought something like "they call that noise music!?  I could make better music by dropping my banjo into the blender!"  I was brave enough to come back and listen again, so now I'm beginning to understand the order that exists in each of those pieces.  It's still really hard to find the meter and the key, but now at least I can hear that there's a plan, there's meaning to it.  The loud drumbeat in the soft passage is there on purpose.  Even Berg's unsettling sprechstimme vocals are supposed to be there.  I think anyone who is willing to come back will have a similarly enlightening experience.  Sometimes, living a meaningful life means you're willing to take a risk, say no to an angel, or break with tradition.  Not always.  I can think of other instances when saying no to an angel would have been disastrous, and I'm glad John Williams returned to more traditional harmonies when he scored Star Wars (can you imagine Han Solo's lines all delivered in talk-sing?  I can't).  But still... There's a time to say yes and a time to say no.  My music library needs both Bach and Stravinsky in order to be complete.

So maybe Abraham played in the wrong key, and the angel came back at the end to set him straight and prevent murder.

Or maybe it really was a test of his submission to God's messengers.

And maybe, just maybe it's a chapter in a conquering nation's self-revised origin story.  But that's a discussion for another day.  Feel free to ask me about that privately.  

For now, I'm off to listen to some Chopin, another necessary part of my music library.  Look up his Prelude in C-Sharp Minor.  Do it now.  I'll wait.

Blunderbuss Bundy and the Oregonian Outrage

Disclaimer 1: I've made it pretty clear in other posts that I identify myself as a Mormon--a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I'll point out again that I do not speak for the highest (or any) levels of leadership, and my opinions may not represent the experiences of all Mormons.  However, my values, beliefs, and actions have always been influenced by my connection to the Church.  This post is about those values, beliefs, and actions.

Disclaimer 2: Also, as this is a developing story with lots of possible angles, I welcome friendly discussion and news updates in the comments.  I don't claim to know everything about the events I'm commenting on.  I only claim to have tried to look for and understand multiple perspectives before voicing my own.

I've been trying to pay attention to the news in eastern Oregon the past few days.  When I first heard that the story was developing, my response was something like this:

Wait... What?

Apparently a peaceful militia, no more like an armed mob, I mean a well-armed white conservative anti-federal government terrorist group has succeeded in a forcible invasion of the headquarters complex at a federal wildlife refuge in Harney County, about 300 miles southeast of where a large portion of the Mikkelsen clan lives.  From what I've read, it seems like their action was intended as a protest to a few issues, mostly boiling down to what they see as federal government interference in the affairs of local government and of individual citizens.  Many of the people in the invading force proudly identify themselves as Mormons, and they claim Mormon doctrine and practice as justification for taking up arms against federal agents (in the broad sense... not just armed federal police officers).  One of the invaders even calls himself Captain Moroni, after a hero from the Book of Mormon who stands for a lot of what this group seems to believe.  Captain Moroni was a leader in government and religious affairs, though he is best known as the highest ranking military officer in his society.  And when you learn about him, it's no wonder the Bundys and friends claim him as part of their inspiration.  After all, when Captain Moroni hears about his central government's failure to keep order and protect individual liberty,

12. And it came to pass that he rent his coat; and he took a piece thereof, and wrote upon it--In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children--and he fastened it upon the end of a pole.
13. And he fastened it on his head-plate, and his breastplate, and his shields, and girded on his armor about his loins; and he took the pole, which had on the end thereof his rent coat, (and he called it the title of liberty) and he bowed himself to the earth, and he prayed mightily unto his God for the blessings of liberty to rest upon his brethren, so long as there should a band of [believers] remain to possess the land (The Book of Mormon, Alma 46:12-13)

This same Captain Moroni gets angry when the central government drops the ball again (see his entry in the Church's official study materials).  But he doesn't just get angry: he threatens to march on the capital city with his army.  When the president (called the chief judge) gets Moroni's letter, I imagine him saying something like "You and what army?"  And I imagine Moroni pulling an Aragorn:

"This army."

(Sidenote begins: I suppose Moroni's army was maybe a little more corporeal... although I'm not convinced that applies to his right-hand man Teancum.  Read one of his stories to find out why I think Jason Bourne, Egon Spengler, and a whole ghost busting black ops team couldn't take him down.  Sidenote over)

So Captain Moroni is a soldier who stands up when the central government threatens its citizens' wellness.  Just like the Bundys and their pals.  

And I honor the Bundys' right to stand up when the central government threatens its citizens' wellness, just like I honor Moroni's right to do it.

BUT

I can think of few things less in harmony with LDS doctrine as I understand it than what they're doing in Oregon.  Mormons believe in "being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law" (LDS Article of Faith #12... here's all of them if you're interested).  Last I checked, armed takeovers of federal buildings was against the law.

Mormons also tend to believe that the US Constitution was inspired by God, and that the US government is in place because God wants it to be.  We believe the US government can make mistakes, and in those cases, we believe in changing the law through due process (legislation, court rulings, and duly electing officials who will act appropriately).  We do NOT advocate threatening--much less enacting--violence against government workers or property.  At the time of this writing, the terrorist group in Oregon have not hurt anyone (thank God!), and they say they haven't destroyed any property.  But bringing an army and their weapons is a threat.  There's no way around that, no matter how many times you say you don't want to resort to violence.  Bringing an army means you're going to resort to violence.

Say I wake up and open the cupboard to find food for breakfast, but all I find is macaroni with oyster sauce.  It's not what I usually think of for breakfast, and I imagine it's that way for a lot of people.  But I'm hungry, and that's all I can find.  So I'm going to eat macaroni with oyster sauce.  I won't stand there all day saying "Boy, I sure hope I don't have to eat macaroni and oyster sauce for breakfast."  We as humans tend to use the resources that are available to us.  So Bundy & Co. can talk all they want about having a peaceful armed insurrection.  If they keep this up long enough, it will get bloody.

And all over two prison sentences that the defendants didn't even contest?  All over two people who have willingly accepted the legal consequences of their actions?  All over a family that has denounced the actions of the terrorists?

[Sarcastically] Well done, guys.  That's democracy in action.

Update: On 1/4/2015, the LDS Church released an official statement that expresses a stance similar to my own opinions.  Check it out.

Mt Everest, AZ

I see at least two big themes in what I've written here in the past: sadness and miracles.  This time, I think I've found my perfect intersection between those two themes.  This time, I'm writing about my son.

Camille and I are the proud parents of a tall, skinny, precocious two year old girl.  Her life is the miracle that inspired my first piece on this blog, as well as the next one.  I try not to publish too much information about her online, but I haven't kept my family life a secret.

What I haven't told the Internet is that as of October 2015, we have been eagerly planning for her younger sibling's arrival.  The doctors pointed out a few things we needed to watch out for, and they repeatedly reassured us that we could easily deal with these issues--if they even became issues--in their time.  Further reading led me to believe that some of those risk factors were potentially pretty serious, and that many families had all of the risk factors with none of the complications they predict.

Yesterday, I hung up on my brother's phone call abruptly (sorry, Joel!) when I saw Camille in tears, looking terrified.  She had just spoken with her doctor about some of her unexpected symptoms, and the doctor had told her to head straight to the hospital.  We scrambled to make arrangements for our daughter, gratefully accepting her grandma's offer to drive across town, then rushed to the ER.

Writing about this stings... talking about it out loud is hell.  And here goes.

After a few exams including an ultrasound, the PA working with us gave us "some news that's not so good."  Baby's heart had stopped a few days before.  Unlike his big sister, his heart didn't start right back up... it just stopped, and that was that.  We stayed there overnight, waiting for all the things that have to happen after a miscarriage.  It happened fairly fast... we were cleared to leave by this morning.

And that's where the miracles come in.  It's a miracle that they could see all of those potential problems and warn us that there were risks.  It's a miracle that there are machines and instruments and people who know how to use them.  It's a miracle that those highly skilled people are also incredibly compassionate and good at listening.  It's a miracle that we ended up with more than one person on our treatment team who had had a miscarriage, and could relate more completely.  It's a miracle that a drop of Camille's blood could tell us so much about that kid and his life.  It's a miracle that Camille is still alive and well, even with such overwhelming grief.

And that's where the sadness comes in.  I've felt grief before.  I've felt depression before.  And now when I look at those moments and this one, it looks like I've been climbing the hill at the neighborhood park to train, and now I'm climbing Mt Everest.

I take my role as a parent very seriously.  That role is also one of the parts of my life that brings me the most joy, the deepest sense that my life is whole.  The thought of enriching that role with a new relationship was exciting.  It still is, it just seems a lot more remote now.  The realization that that expectation won't become reality as planned, it's... pain.  The kind that won't ever really go away.

And the kind that we can learn to live with.

Which brings me back to the miracles.  Isn't it amazing how we can survive such intense, agonizing pain?  And isn't it amazing how we can feel happy even with all that pain?  It's not an "instead of."  It's a "both," like how climbers who summit Everest feel completely spent and sick from the altitude, even while they feel... whatever kind of satisfaction comes from sitting on top of the world.

Right now, I'm not ready for both.  Right now, everything in me is crying out from the effort of gettin to base camp.  I have a better climbing buddy than I could have asked for.  I have a team of guides and fellow climbers that is all but guaranteed to get me to the top.

So let's keep climbing.  They say the view from up there is miraculous.

We'll miss you, little guy.  I won't forget.

What it Means to Me

This is the final part of a series on the LDS Church policy change of November, 2015.  Part 1 was a basic overview of relevant Mormon beliefs and practices.  Part 2 outlined the arguments for and against the change.

Thanks to a few people for asking me the hard questions that helped me gather my thoughts for this entry.  Spencer, Erik, Isaac, I'm proud to call y'all my friends.  Some of this might look familiar to you...

I'm not going to paste the text of the new policy here again.  You can find it in my last two entries (links above).  

When I read the new policy, my immediate response was to feel angry.  The next day I felt sad.  Very sad.  More sad than I had felt in a long, long time.

I grew up in a devout Mormon family in Raleigh, NC.  Being Mormon in the South is tough.  It means having to define and defend your faith to well meaning neighbors who see your church as a cult that you need to be rescued from.  For me, it meant taking pride in the rituals that are supposed to connect us to God and prepare us for salvation.  I served a two-year mission in Colorado after my first year of college, and then went to stay with my parents in California until the semester started.  Within days of arriving in California, I was recruited to campaign in favor of Prop 8.  And who better?  I was an energetic young man who had just returned from campaigning full time for Prop 8's biggest supporter.  What were a few hours doing what I had already been doing?

Over time, some of my opinions have diverged from mainstream Mormon thought.  For example, I believe it's not my place to tell a woman she shouldn't have an abortion.  I believe that people who experiment with drugs, alcohol, or coffee can still be moral, respectable people.  And I believe that if I had the chance to publicly support Prop 8 again, I'd say "no thanks."

Deep down, I still hold a lot of the values that ostensibly guide Mormon practice.  Values like compassion, loving kindness, family unity, patience, acceptance of all people, no matter who they are or where they come from.  These values are in practically everything I do.  I work as a therapist for people who can't afford to pay the bills themselves, even though it means a much smaller salary than many therapists in my area.  I like to think that my actions at home make me a good, gentle, loving dad to my daughter, as well as a faithful, caring husband to my wife.  When I'm out and about, I make a point to smile and treat the people around me with dignity.

I have my doubts about a lot of Mormon doctrine.  Deep down I still believe in its central message: God came to earth, taught us how to find divinity within ourselves, and promised that not even God's own death would keep God from helping us.  God willingly went to be tortured and executed in order to suffer all pain, and thus help us through anything.  And then God sent helpers who were to bring God's blessings to everyone--everyone.  No matter what color their skin was.  No matter what language they spoke.  No matter what their parents believed or did.  No matter how or whom they loved.

For a while, I've been content to quietly disagree with some official LDS policies, along with a host of unofficial LDS cultural phenomena.  I've been quiet when I've heard the First Presidency and the Twelve (see part 1) call for unquestioning obedience to the First Presidency and the Twelve.  I've been quiet when I've heard peers justify sexism and racism based on the words of Mormon leaders and scriptures.  I've been quiet when members and leaders alike dehumanized significant groups of people by calling them "the blacks" and "the gays," instead of referring to them as people.

Now I can't be quiet anymore.  I won't sit by and watch while my Church tells children that they're protecting them by excluding them.  I won't watch while my community condemns gay people who are honest and loyal to their families as worse than murderers or straight people who are unfaithful.  I won't hold my tongue now that I see actions out of line with my neighbors' and my values.

The Second Article of Faith of the LDS church says that man won't be punished for Adam's transgression.  Practically every Mormon I've ever met understands that to mean more than just Adam, but other ancestors too, including parents.  I believe this new policy punishes some children for their parents' actions.  It has the potential to make some children second-class citizens by making them wait.  And I believe it has played a part (not necessarily the only factor, but a part) in the increase in suicidal crisis calls in the Mormon belt in the last week.  How are we protecting people when we deny them (even temporarily) the rituals we say will save them?  How are we promoting family unity when we ask children to disavow a key part of their parents' identity?  (And yes, I understand we are not asking them do disavow their parents as people.)

Matthew 19 quotes Jesus as saying "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."  The new policy seems to amend that, so that now it would read "Let the little children come to me, unless their parents are gay, in which case tell them to wait ten years or so."  One author made the poignant argument that some children don't live that long.  I'm sure some other children would get tired of waiting when they're allowed to go through the motions without doing the part that is supposed to make it all count.

From my perspective, I can still see the pure doctrine of God's love through the opaque shell of policy.  I see policy as a modern-day "hedge around the law."  We Mormons generally use that phrase to describe the Pharisees' rules during Jesus' time.  The rules were designed to help people live by the pure doctrine, but people got so caught up with the rules that they forgot the doctrine was there.  I see modern Mormonism doing the same thing.

It's like trying to take a black and white picture of a rainbow.  Sometimes, we can add the right color in just the right spot and it shows a glimpse of the reality.  Other times, we miss, or we decide not to add any color.  Then it's an imperfect man-made reflection of something perfect that we can't obtain by ourselves.  That happened when Mormons officially encouraged polygamy, and again when we officially banned it (and when it continued unofficially for a while after the ban).  It happened in the middle of the 20th century, when black people were not allowed to enter Mormon temples.  We added color in just the right spot when that policy was rescinded and skin color was removed as a criterion.  (I recognize that black people and the priesthood/temple is not a perfect parallel.  I believe it fits with this theme, though.)  And now we took another black and white picture of a rainbow and chose not to add color.

The new policy does not destroy my faith.  I will not leave my God or my people over this, no matter how distant I have been or will be, and no matter how much this hurts us.  What I will do is try to bear my neighbor's burden, that it may be light.  I will mourn with those that mourn.  I will do my best to comfort those that stand in need of comfort.  I'll remind my community that there should be no division in the body, and that we shouldn't cut of our right arm because of a mosquito bite to our right pinky.  I'll be sad.  I might be angry.  I'll definitely be anxious about voicing an opinion that's at odds with many in my community.

And above all, I'll listen.  Whether you agree with me or not, I'll listen.  If you've been vindicated, tell me about it.  If you've been hurt, tell me about that, too.  One of my music teachers told me to listen louder than I sing.  I try to make a point of listening louder than I talk, even now that I feel compelled to speak up.

"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."

In Which the Lines are Drawn

This is part 2 in a series of posts about the policy change that happened in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in November, 2015.  Part 1 is a primer on a few relevant points of Mormon belief.

The night of 5 November, 2015, the Mormon online community was in a frenzy over a change in policy that had been very quietly published earlier in the day.  The new policy states that

Children of a Parent Living in a Same-Gender Relationship

A natural or adopted child of a parent living in a same-gender relationship, whether the couple is married or cohabiting, may not receive a name and a blessing. A natural or adopted child of a parent living in a same-gender relationship, whether the couple is married or cohabiting, may be  baptized and confirmed, ordained, or recommended for missionary service only as follows: A mission president or a stake president may request approval from the Office of the First Presidency to baptize and confirm, ordain, or recommend missionary service for a child of a parent who has lived or is living in a same-gender relationship when he is satisfied by personal interviews that both of the following requirements are met: 

1. The child accepts and is committed to live the teachings and doctrine of the Church, and specifically disavows the practice of same-gender cohabitation and marriage. 

2. The child is of legal age and does not live with a parent who has lived or currently lives in a same-gender cohabitation relationship or marriage.  

When a Disciplinary Council May Be Necessary

Serious Transgression

…It includes (but is not limited to) attempted murder, forcible rape, sexual abuse, spouse abuse, intentional serious physical injury of others, adultery, fornication, homosexual relations (especially sexual cohabitation), deliberate abandonment of family responsibilities…

When a Disciplinary Council is Mandatory

Apostasy

As used here, apostasy refers to members who:

1. Repeatedly act in clear, open, and deliberate public opposition to the Church or its leaders.

2. Persist in teaching as Church doctrine information that is not Church doctrine after they have been corrected by their bishop or a higher authority.

3. Continue to follow the teachings of apostate sects (such as those that advocate plural marriage) after being corrected by their bishop or a higher authority.

4. Are in a same-gender marriage.

5. Formally join another church and advocate its teachings.

Many commentators were angry, anxious, or depressed about the change.  Others celebrated it and proclaimed it from Facebook's cyber-rooftop.  Still others were indifferent, claiming change was a  distinction without a difference.

"There's No One Actually Affected By This Update"

A fellow Mormon discussing the new policy told me that "There's no one actually affected by this update."  He wasn't the only one to express that thought.  And to his credit, he was right... in a way.  His argument went something like this:  Before, gay people were seen as committing heinous sexual sin, and their marriage was forbidden by civil law.  Now that civil law has changed, the Church has to recognize their marriage as legal, but we don't have to like it.  Since we can't say it's illegal, we'll call it apostasy.

For many LGBT+ people, the end result is the same--a group of local leaders gets together and decides whether the person gets excommunicated, barred from certain aspects of public practice, or no penalty.  Even if the name changed, it works out just like it did before.

Protecting the Children

Within a couple of days of the announcement, D. Todd Christofferson of the modern group of Twelve Apostles released a video.  In that video, he defended and explained the new policy.  One of the main points of his argument is that this new policy protects children.  It prevents conflict between their home life and their religious activity.  LGBT+ parents are committing "a particularly grievous or significant, serious kind of sin," and their values and beliefs must be incompatible with the Church's teachings, the argument goes.  We're protecting kids from having to choose between their parents and the Church.

As I read opinions by proponents of the new policy, I noticed a theme emerging: most of them appealed to authority to claim it was God's law.  Some of them cited Jesus directly.  Some of them appealed to the Bible, where there seems to be some mention of homosexuality.  Many of them made an argument that has become common among conservative Mormons in the last few years, and it goes something like this: If you believe in the Church, then you must believe that it was really founded by Joseph Smith, a true prophet like Moses or Elijah.  If you believe in Joseph Smith, then you must believe that God has continued to call more modern Moseses...es...(es?)  That means the policy was spoken by God and written directly by His servants the prophets.  It is the revealed word of God, so it must be perfect.  "The Lord will never let his mouthpiece lead the people astray."

The Church as Safe Haven

In the interest of full disclosure, when I tried to trace news of the policy change back to the source, the farthest I got was John Dehlin, a man excommunicated from the LDS Church for publicly supporting marriage equality.  This was right in the groove of his activism.  The Church's PR team confirmed that the change had really happened, though.  I read and heard many opinions arguing that the new policy was immoral or contrary to the Church's core doctrinal principles and values.  Most of these voices appealed to Jesus or to a lack of authority on the issue.  For example, some pointed out how inconclusive the biblical evidence is about... well, anything, but especially marriage equality.  Others pointed to the story of Jesus with the woman caught in adultery, saying that we imperfect people should not be so quick to attack our neighbors.  Some appealed to Mormonism's second article of faith:

We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.

They argued that the new policy was tantamount to (read "a terribly perfect example of") punishing children for their parents' actions.

A common theme among the challengers was the idea that the Church should be inclusive.  Its leaders should invite all people to participate, learn, and experience God's love.  No one should be kicked out for committing to a person they love in front of a civil authority.

There's still more.  Thanks for reading!

Religious Studies 115: Intro to Mormonism

This is part 1 in a series of posts about the policy change that happened in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in November, 2015.  Part 1 is a primer on a few relevant points of Mormon belief.  Part 2 outlines some of the arguments about the policy

I do not claim to speak for the highest levels of Church government.  This post is based on my experience as a practicing Mormon and my understanding of Mormon dogma.  Feel free to compare to the experiences of other Mormon friends, or to visit the Church's official website.

On the evening of 5 November, 2015, my wife Camille and I did what we do on many weeknights.  We had dinner, we put our daughter to bed, and we watched a shared favorite TV show.  Then I logged into Facebook for a few minutes.

I was shocked by what I saw.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints had just announced a change in its policy.  Handbook 1, where local and general leaders in the Church settle questions of Church policy, had just been updated.  It's a long passage to quote, but I think it's worth sharing it.  According to this update,

Children of a Parent Living in a Same-Gender Relationship

A natural or adopted child of a parent living in a same-gender relationship, whether the couple is married or cohabiting, may not receive a name and a blessing. A natural or adopted child of a parent living in a same-gender relationship, whether the couple is married or cohabiting, may be  baptized and confirmed, ordained, or recommended for missionary service only as follows: A mission president or a stake president may request approval from the Office of the First Presidency to baptize and confirm, ordain, or recommend missionary service for a child of a parent who has lived or is living in a same-gender relationship when he is satisfied by personal interviews that both of the following requirements are met:
1. The child accepts and is committed to live the teachings and doctrine of the Church, and specifically disavows the practice of same-gender cohabitation and marriage.
2. The child is of legal age and does not live with a parent who has lived or currently lives in a same-gender cohabitation relationship or marriage.

When a Disciplinary Council May Be Necessary

Serious Transgression
…It includes (but is not limited to) attempted murder, forcible rape, sexual abuse, spouse abuse, intentional serious physical injury of others, adultery, fornication, homosexual relations (especially sexual cohabitation), deliberate abandonment of family responsibilities…

When a Disciplinary Council is Mandatory

Apostasy

As used here, apostasy refers to members who:
1. Repeatedly act in clear, open, and deliberate public opposition to the Church or its leaders.
2. Persist in teaching as Church doctrine information that is not Church doctrine after they have been corrected by their bishop or a higher authority.
3. Continue to follow the teachings of apostate sects (such as those that advocate plural marriage) after being corrected by their bishop or a higher authority.
4. Are in a same-gender marriage.
5. Formally join another church and advocate its teachings.

For those not familiar with Mormon doctrine and practice, here is a little clarification.  I do not claim to speak for the Church's central governing body.  My experience as a lifelong member of the Mormon community qualifies me to talk about the basics.

Baptism and Confirmation

Mormons believe that  people can be baptized once they reach the Age of Accountability--the age at which a person can think for herself or himself, and can make decisions informed by prayer, divine revelation, and careful study.  Mormon doctrine claims that that age is eight years old.  Anyone eight years or older can receive a Mormon baptism following a brief interview with a missionary district leader (like a local team lead for the shirt and tie cyclists).  Children under age 18 need permission from each of their living parents.  For most Mormons, the confirmation ritual follows baptism quickly, usually with a week or less in between.  Mormons believe that confirmation also involves receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost, or God's constant guiding presence.  Mormons believe that baptism and confirmation are the first of the Saving Ordinances, the sacramental rituals that are required for salvation and eternal life with God.

Over the years, the Church has set special conditions for baptism in special circumstances.  For example, people whose parents are active, open opponents of the Church must wait until age 18 to get baptized.  The common explanation is that the parents would object anyway, so we save the child the hassle of getting a no from them.  The same rule applies to children whose parents are polygamous, a practice specifically banned in today's Mormonism.

Ordination

Mormons believe in becoming a "kingdom of priests, and an holy nation" (Exodus 19:6).  Mormons interpret that verse to mean that every man should be ordained a priest.  That way, every man has power and authority from God to minister and serve.

There are several levels, or offices, within the priesthood.  Around age 12, baptized Mormon boys are ordained to the office of Deacon, the lowest level.  Each time a person is advanced in the priesthood hierarchy, he meets with a local Church leader to assess his preparation and worthiness for the promotion.  Around age 14 they receive the office of Teacher, and around 16 the office of Priest.  These three offices are seen as being the modern equivalent of the priesthood of the Old Testament's lower law.  Around age 18, Mormon men are ordained to the priesthood of the higher law, and receive the office of elder (hence, missionaries are called elders).  After that, they're all higher-law offices, and age is less of a factor.  When local or general leadership says it's appropriate, men can be promoted to the office of high priest.  Leaders of individual congregations get the office of bishop, so that's what Mormons call their pastors.  Other offices are for people in the Church's central government: seventies, like the 70 men Jesus sent to help his disciples; apostles, and there are 12 like in Jesus' time; and prophet/president, the highest-ranking person in the Church.  The prophet/president is assisted by two men who hold the office of apostle.  So there are actually 15 apostles, but they're split into a big group ("The Twelve") and a small group (called "the First Presidency").

Mormons believe that baptism is necessary before ordination.  Ordination is required for men before they can get some of the other Saving Ordinances.

Missionary Service

Mormon men are highly encouraged to volunteer two years of their lives as full time missionaries.  These are the shirt and tie cyclists, the guys who shovel snow in dress clothes, the guys with the black name tag and the little blue book.  And when I say highly encouraged, I mean highly encouraged.  In most cases, it is all but required.  Mormon men who decide not to volunteer do not face any official penalty, but they often face rejection and shaming by other members of the community.  Even when missionaries go home early for medical or mental illness, their Mormon neighbors sometimes write it off as the result of sinful behavior or a lack of faith.  Young Mormon women are also encouraged to volunteer as missionaries.  Their term is 18 months.  While men are practically required to sign up, there is much less pressure for women.  In my experience, I've seen less judgment for women who choose not to be missionaries, and who go home early, whatever their reason.

People raised Mormon are encouraged to go on missions from a very early age.  In fact, the young children's Sunday school songbook has multiple songs in the theme of "I hope they call me on a mission/When I have grown a foot or two./I hope by then I will be ready...."

In order to be missionaries, young Mormons go through an intensive application process.  They get thorough exams from doctors.  They go through multiple rounds of interviews with their bishops and other local leaders to determine whether they are spiritually prepared or "worthy" for the assignment.  Once the local leaders have fully vetted a prospective missionary, they recommend him or her to the Church's central missionary department.  One of the apostles (remember them?  See above) works with members of other groups within the central Church government.  Together they assign every candidate to a mission somewhere in the world.  Devout Mormons believe that each assignment is divinely inspired.  Being a missionary is a privilege and a rite of passage.

Apostasy

Apostasy is one of the most serious charges that the LDS church can bring against someone.  Historically, Mormons have used that word to mean that someone knowingly turned away from God or God's law--that the person had received some kind of undeniable witness, and then they denied it anyway.  Mormons also talk about the Great Apostasy, a time starting shortly after Jesus' death when Christian leaders got into politics and turned away from Jesus' purest teachings.  Mormons believe the Great Apostasy ended when God called Joseph Smith to be a modern-day Moses and bring back the Church as Jesus had set it up.

The policy revision quoted above is a significant shift.  Now, apostasy does not just describe people who openly oppose the Church or its ideas, but instead it includes married people whose marriage does not consist of one man and one woman.

Stay tuned... there's more to come.

Sticks and Stones, Say Hello to My Little Friend: ALSO

Be careful about how you use words.  They can be wonderfully powerful tools for lifting people up.  They can also be terribly destructive weapons against dignity, self-respect, and happiness.

This week, the Mormon community (which I consider myself part of) was left reeling--and arguing--in the wake of news of the excommunication of Kate Kelly, a prominent activist.  Kelly is the head of a group called Ordain Women (OW).  In the Mormon church, most men are ordained to the lay priesthood, while women are not.  Kelly and OW are seeking to change that.  

Kelly and her supporters claim that they have been asking Church leaders the hard questions with no response.  They claim that because of the Church's silence, they have been forced to ask louder and louder, even to the point of marching in the streets and organizing rallies at major Church events.

On the other side, the Church's official statements encourage questioning as a way to actively seek truth.  Kelly wasn't asking tough questions, but fomenting rebellion and leading people astray, the Church argues.

I've read some angry, vitriolic, and downright hateful comments from people on both sides of the issue.  I won't link to any of them, because I believe they are counter-productive.  On Kelly's side, I see the main idea as something like "We are sad, scared, and angry because the Church passed a spiritual death sentence against someone who was sincerely seeking truth."  On the Church's side, it seems to me that people are saying "We think that we've protected the Church and our people from Kate Kelly, who was dangerously making demands of God and His servants."  

I've also read some beautifully written pieces calling for friendship, empathy, and acceptance, and arguing that as a community, "We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."  Mormon Iconoclast, for example writes powerfully about the "immensely rewarding and frustrating trans-cultural conversation" that leads "a little ways towards healing."  Lisa at Feminist Mormon Housewives poignantly argues here that disciplinary action against Kelly and another prominent Mormon activist is like amputating a part of the body of Christ, as discussed by Paul.  

This morning I read a post about what one woman has learned from the news about Kelly.  As I read, I felt more and more eager, more and more like she was on to something, more and more energized to learn similar lessons to the ones she had learned.

Preach it!

And then I reached the last section, and it felt like someone had let go of the balloon without tying it.  On the way to her main point, the author very gently voices her disagreement with Kelly, and then argues in favor of peace and acceptance.  Then she writes that it's time for "discerning which of our sisters [and brothers] may also be confused or struggling- and offering our strength, faith, and insights instead of our judgments."

Did you catch it?  It took me a minute.  I was very disappointed in two ways.  

1. "Confused" and "struggling" can be negative judgment words.  I'm sure that there really are Mormon men and women who are confused and struggling about Kelly's expulsion.  But I'm equally sure that there are people who are dissatisfied and leaving with ease and clarity.  Just because someone's view is different, it doesn't mean that they're suffering.
2. "Also" is a four-letter word.  The author subtly voices the assumption that Kelly and her supporters must be confused and struggling.  For other questioners to be "also" confused, it must mean that the people we've already discussed were confused to begin with.

I don't doubt that the author had good intentions.  After all, the overall message of her article is one of unity and love.  But with three simple words, she pokes holes in her argument.  She labels a group of people with words that are condescending at best, and she groups people who may not be much alike.

So be careful with words.  If you're trying to say something helpful, use helpful words.  If you're trying to encourage, use encouraging ones.  Don't use them to label people, and make sure they're narrow or broad enough for what you really mean.