Feminism and the Temple

                I got along with my older brother really well until I was about three-years-old, at which point I learned how to count. With this knowledge, I realized that our method of dividing Legos was skewed in his favor. My poor mother had no peace after that. I was determined to get my fair share in every situation. We couldn’t split a candy bar without measuring it to be sure it was divided evenly. It didn’t matter if I had as much as I wanted. It mattered if I had as much as him.

                This attitude made some things in the temple hard for me. I knew the temple ceremony was of God. The first time I went through the temple, I received a strong witness of His power in the ordinances. I received peace and inspiration in the temple regularly. My heart felt right in the temple. However, in the back of my mind, I was counting Legos, anxious to make sure I had as many as everyone else. I focused not only on my covenants and promised blessings, but I compared the covenants and promises I received to the promises men received. Any difference in wording, however slight, bothered me.

                I continued to go to the temple. I didn’t dwell too frequently on the differences that bothered me. I prayed for friends and family members. I sought direction in my career. And I prayed a lot for the blessing I desire most: an eternal companion. One time at the temple, consumed with that longing for a husband, I listened to the covenants and blessings differently. Instead of thinking about slight differences in wording and whether the blessings for me were the same as for men, I focused on my deepest desires. I realized that every time there was something in the ceremony that was specific to women, it was something that I wanted – something that I wanted deeply. I felt my Heavenly Father assuring me that I would get what I want. The promises in the temple would fulfill the deepest desires of my heart.

                Recently, a friend of mine expressed concerns about something in the temple ceremony that she felt separated men and women in their standing before God. It was a difference that I hadn’t really thought about before. It had never bothered me, but the next time I went to the temple, I focused on the part of the ceremony that she had mentioned. I didn’t get an answer as to why the difference. But I did gain a new insight into what that part of the ceremony meant to me. That day, it helped me feel an intimacy with my Heavenly Father. I have a hard time being vulnerable. I have to trust someone a lot to let them see my pains and fears and insecurities. But I felt that I could weep and my Heavenly Father alone would see and understand my tears. I felt safe and close to Him even in a room full of strangers.

                I still have a lot to learn and understand about the temple. I have a lot to learn about the covenants. I suspect that eventually having a spouse will help with that. But I’m learning to concentrate on what I want and need and that’s working. It’s making me a happier, healthier person overall. Greater, more complete understanding will come in time. I’ll start with understanding what it means for me.

Human Sacrifice and the MTC

            There are some things in the scriptures that I kind of have a hard time with. I mean, there are chapters like Third Nephi 17 that I just eat up and love entirely. But not everything is as easy to read as healing the sick and blessing children. I’m not going to go into every scripture story that has ever bothered me. I’ll just use one example: Genesis chapter 22.

            It’s the story of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham is commanded to sacrifice his son. Of course, in the end, God stops him. But it all just seems a bit twisted to me, especially in light of people who actually believe God wants them to kill people and carry it out (like Ron and Dan Lafferty). This especially bothered me as a child. What if my father said God told him to sacrifice me? I’d kind of have a problem with that. Even if he didn’t actually do it, that would be pretty traumatizing. You’re supposed to be able to trust your father not to tie you up, grab a knife, and move in for the kill, right?

Some people suggest that the Bible isn’t literal, that the stories are just metaphors to learn from. I can’t take that way out. I believe the Bible to be “the word of God as far as it is translated correctly.” Abraham was real. It isn’t that I don’t get the applications. Trust God. Trust Him with the things you love most. I don’t have a problem with the principles. But if I think too much about the story itself, it just seems a bit sadistic.

I do realize that Isaac probably wasn’t some cute little five-year-old. He was a “lad”, a young adult most likely, who was old enough to understand and consent to the whole thing. That helped a little. But still!

Now, without further ado (or a proper transition), allow me to share a personal experience from the MTC. It might not seem to have much in common with a story of human sacrifice, but in the end, it will all come together and my title might even make sense.

After my mission, I taught Czech at the Missionary Training Center (MTC). I loved it as I had never loved a job before. I was filled with the spirit and joy of missionary work. I was passionate about teaching. And I was pretty darn good at it, too. At the same time, I was working full time with people with disabilities. It made for long weeks and scheduling was a beast, but it was worth it to work at the MTC.

Part time teaching jobs at the MTC are temporary for three years. As I approached the end of three years, I knew I would have to leave and I tried to be resigned to it. But the closer I got to having to leave, the more I realized how much I loved it and I didn’t want to let go. Then something wonderful happened. A full time position as a training coordinator opened up in my area. It was exactly what I wanted – the exact position I had been hoping for. It would allow me to work with missionaries and teachers for the next several years. It would pay significantly more than I was making at my other job. In fact, it would pay more than both jobs combined.

I prayed about it and felt really good about going for it. I had spent three years working 60-hour weeks at two jobs that I was over-qualified for. I had sacrificed my evenings and Saturdays to make it work. I’d cried over it a few times, and God had promised me that I was doing the right things. He told me to keep at it and trust Him. Three years! I could see how God was giving me things I needed, but of the things I had wanted, the only one He had given me was teaching at the MTC. This was the pay-off. Finally. I applied for the job and prayed hard all the way through the interview. I walked out of the interview feeling peace, that it had gone as it was supposed to. Everything was just falling into place so perfectly and it felt right.

I didn’t get the job.

When I got the call, I was at my other job. I hung up the phone and took a 15-minute break to go cry. It just seemed a little cruel. If I wasn’t supposed to stay at the MTC, I wasn’t supposed to stay at the MTC. But why set everything up so perfectly? Why let me build my hopes up just to slam the door in my face? Who DOES that? Well, apparently, God does.

I didn’t really get mad at Him. But the whole thing hurt. Shortly after that, I was studying Abraham. And I realized something: God set it up to be pretty much as horrible as possible for Abraham. I found that oddly comforting.

Abraham had been on an altar once himself. His fathers didn’t like him speaking against false Gods, so they “endeavored to take away [his] life by the hand of the priest of Elkenah” (Abraham 1:5-7). Abraham was tied up on an altar with a priest who fully intended to kill him. It must have made quite an impression on Abraham: He described the altar in detail, along with an account of other people who were killed there (Abraham 1:11-13).

So, you know, tying his own son to an altar and preparing to kill him wasn’t just something Abraham did for kicks and giggles. He’d been there. He’d hated it. Everything he’d hated about watching his family worship false gods was now being asked of him. God was asking him to put Isaac through exactly what he had gone through. And Abraham loved Isaac. He’d prayed for Isaac. Isaac was a miracle, an answer to a prayer, and the key to a promise.

Why was this comforting to me? I swear I’m not that sadistic. I think it’s just because it was so obviously designed by God. You don’t just accidentally hurt someone that much by being a cruel, emotionless brat. God had to know Abraham intimately to set it up. Abraham had been through exactly what Isaac went through. Abraham had been willing to die on an altar for his faith. That experience must have cut pretty deeply. By the time he was asked to sacrifice Isaac, Abraham had probably come to terms with his own stint as a potential human sacrifice. He’d probably seen that it was necessary for him and had been a blessing to him in the long run. God was asking him to believe it could be a blessing to Isaac, too.

I do realize that not getting a job isn’t quite the same as being told to sacrifice your child. The thing is, I’m not Abraham. I’m not Isaac. I will never understand exactly why God would do that to them. But things obviously worked out OK for them. I do need to understand why God would do things to me. And studying Abraham helped me make sense of why he would “taunt” me with a dream I wouldn’t get.

I needed it to be clear. It was like “Here’s your dream. You can’t have it. Now figure out why.” Figuring out why was good for me. One reason is that I didn’t need it. I already knew how to work with missionaries. I already knew how to teach the gospel. I knew how to help people who were already motivated with the same divine vision I had. I had already been a training manager at a different place before my mission. I believe I would have done the job well, but it wouldn’t have helped me grow. My other job was hard. Much harder than the MTC was for me. And walking away while it was hard wasn’t what I needed.

Furthermore, the MTC didn’t need me. Good teachers are there in abundance. I know the person who got the job. He’s incredible. God didn’t need another good teacher at the MTC. He needed me to be willing to go where I was really needed.

In the end, God kept all his promises. He helped me love my other job and gave me opportunities there instead. In fact, the job I have there now is the one thing that’s going the way I want in life. It’s easy to read a scripture story and say “Oh, it’s all good because the angel stopped Abraham from killing Isaac.” But Abraham didn’t know that when he set out with Isaac and a knife. It’s easy for me to look back and say that my experience at the MTC was a blessing. But at the time, I cried.

Sometimes God does things that just seem mean. They won’t make sense in the moment. Of all the personal stories I could share, I chose to share the one that I’m OK with, the one that makes sense to me now. I didn’t talk about the one that still hurts – hurts so deeply that I’ve been physically weak almost to the point of illness. But I know for myself that God is there in the pain. I know for myself that I can trust Him. I know for myself that it’s not cruelty, but a master author allowing His characters to grow.

Faith and Reason

            Some people write me off as a perfect little Molly Mormon. I guess it makes sense. I’ve been an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ my entire life. I served a mission. I taught at the MTC. I read scriptures every day. I go visiting teaching. I show up to service projects. I attend the temple weekly. I accept church callings. And about the only thing I tried to hide from my parents as a kid was the fact that I snuck “Hardy Boys” books to bed and read when I was supposed to be sleeping.

            I talk about my faith all the time. But I don’t talk about my doubts very openly. Maybe I should. Sometimes it seems like the only people within the church who express doubts are people who have come to the conclusion that the church is wrong. They say things like “I’m just not one of those people who can believe something that doesn’t make sense.” Well neither am I. I have to understand things.

            I’ve toyed with the idea of writing a blog for a while. But I find most popular blogs distasteful. The fastest way to get hits is to be inflammatory. And I don’t intend to be inflammatory. I’m not going to argue basic tenets of doctrine or tell anyone what they should do. I am going to share personal experience and explain what it means to me. You can’t argue with that. My feelings are my feelings. They don’t have to be your feelings, but you can’t tell me that they aren’t really my feelings.

            So here’s what to expect: A series of blog posts outlining some of the doubts, questions and struggles I’ve had as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and how I have dealt with those doubts. My intent is not to resolve those same doubts for other people. It won’t work. You have to “work out your own salvation.” Truth is universal, but my personal answers are just that – my answers. So my purpose is not to give answers, but to highlight a process through personal examples: the process of finding truth within the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

            I have a very blessed life. I have lots of happy stories about the gospel. I tend to share those kinds of stories easily. But that won’t be my focus here. This life is deep, and meaningful and beautiful and painful. It’s not always rainbows and butterflies, though I’ve had my share of rainbows. Some of my struggles may seem petty. That’s OK. Not everyone struggles with the same things. In the end, most struggles probably are petty. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t instructive. I probably won’t share all my deepest struggles here (the deepest things are not usually meant for public consumption). But we’ll see where this goes.