Batyah

Showing posts with label Church. Show all posts

An Unexpected Reaction

I think I recently let you all in on the fact that I was called in my new ward to be a teacher in Relief Society. If you know me at all, you know that I could not have been happier with this calling than if I was tapped on the shoulder by Enoch himself and given a key to his city in the sky.

I taught my first lesson a couple of weeks ago on the dreaded topic of marriage. Don't get me wrong...marriage is wonderful. All I'm saying is that it's a heady thing, standing in front of a room full of women who generally want nothing more than to be married. They're just waiting for the men to get on board. And these are women who, by and large, were complete strangers to me.

A. w. e. s. o. m. e.

I had a bit of spiritual schizophrenia as I prepared for the lesson; what did these women need to hear from me...another single person? I clearly do not have any key to snagging the man of my dreams. Hell,* the last handful of dates I've been on have been...doozies. {Have I thanked you enough for that, Utah men? I really enjoy nothing more than being told that I dress too immodestly and that Satan influences me through my taste in music.}

Regardless, I had a lightning bolt of inspiration and got the job done. There was a quite surprising moment, though. One that has kept me thinking.

I planned, somewhat hesitantly, to stage a slightly irreverent object lesson. I had the sisters recreate that old Young Women's lesson where they write a long list of things they want in a husband... Returned Missionary. Goes to the Temple Weekly. Reads The Scriptures Every Day. Oh, and please, oh please, let him be a stone cold fox.

And then, I had them rip them in half.

.....And then, I had them throw away the ripped bits into the garbage can. *gasp*

To be clear, I was very quick to point out that I'm not saying that it's a bad exercise for Young Women (even though, secretly, I think it is). I just wanted to make a point about becoming ourselves the women that we want to be as we enter into marriage. (I also hoped in the deepest caverns of my irreverent heart that the sisters would feel the weight of impossible expectations we place on men in the Church.)

I was nervous. I was nervous because I stood in front of presumably born and bred, culturally indoctrinated sisters who might brand me with a scarlet letter for kind of, sort of, maybe implying that a standard lesson in the Church is inadequate. What I got was...not what I was expecting.

The women were cheering. Literally cheering. A couple of them CLAPPED. Seriously, they were like this baby. I kid you not.

There was this intense lifting of heaviness. These women felt empowered.

And I was just left thinking, "...What just happened?" Of course, I – in my infinite cool-headed, awesome teacher-i-ness – just moved confidently on without really reacting. But that question has lingered. And honestly, I'm still a little bit mystified here. Is it possible that in placing our women (young or not) in the paradigm of expecting things from men that we take away bits of their own empowerment?

All I know is this: ripping up those lists freed the women in that room to make lists of what they themselves would like to accomplish.

*Sorry for my mild indiscretion here. But, not enough to not write it.

Stringing the Pearls

Welcome to Book Report Tuesday! I recently finished up Becoming a Great Gospel Teacher: Bringing the Gospel Classroom to Life, which can be found here. It was an easy read and had some good insights, though it wasn't the most ground-breaking tome on Gospel teaching ever written.

I have, however, been really struck by one theme throughout the book; that of each one of us taking responsibility for our own learnings. The idea, as expressed by the authors, is that, as students, we should each be taking responsibility for our own Gospel learning instead of relying upon others – teachers, peers, leaders – to both supply a continuous stream of Gospel information and to do all the work of application in our lives. For teachers, the foremost goal is simple: expect the students to be responsible in their learning and to facilitate them doing so.

As a teacher in my Relief Society, I have seen a remarkably high level of engagement during class, but varying levels of preparation beforehand or sustained thought afterward. Our sisters are wonderfully in the moment as the lesson is being taught, which is such a blessing to a teacher. However, I have had a difficult time pinning down just how much the lessons stick with them as the exit the classroom. Do the lessons leave with them, or do the sisters leave them in the classroom?

So, while the book gave some tips for encouraging students to take hold of their own education – some of which have been employed in our Relief Society – but at some point, the sisters have to decide for themselves whether or not to just do it. As a teacher, I have been astounded by the incredible relational value each of our lessons have, simply by virtue of being part of the Gospel. The cumulative effect has been one that has done away with my propensity to think about subjects within the Gospel – the Atonement, service, gratitude, work – in silos, each wholly distinct from the other. Instead, I have begun to see the Gospel as this glorious whole, miraculously inclusive of every human question, activity or responsibility.

And that fact has increased my faith in a way I cannot entirely articulate.

It has been, for me, a process akin to stringing pearls. A single pearl is not in itself all that amazing. Sure, it's perfect and round and its luster is beautiful, but it's just a pearl. What does one do with a single pearl? You put it in your pocket and lose it. However, when you get these pearls together, you start stringing them together, putting one pearl on the strand, knotting the string, putting another, knotting that one in place... And pretty soon, you have something much grander, much harder to lose, much more difficult to overlook.

It has been the same, for me. Learning a principle here and there has been an amazing thing in my life...but what do I do with a single principle without the context of the Gospel? I may try to apply it, but when it comes down to it, that one principal doesn't have the full force of the Gospel behind it. In the process of taking control of my own spiritual education, though, I have begun to see each principal in light of the Gospel and have found connections between them. Not only have I felt that each learned principle is much more securely in place, but I feel like my grasp of the Gospel has been magnified. The Gospel seems so much grander than I previously imagined.

(Get it?! Eh? Eh?! ...Dis–Arm...!?)

When it comes to the Church and missionary work, I have always felt as though my natural ability to be transparent and unapologetic about my involvement with and love for the Church has been my particular brand of missionary work. Coworkers, friends of other faiths and family members have always been aware of my activities with the Church–from what a calling is and why I perform it to when I was receiving my endowment and how that would affect my life. I felt as though that my transparency, along with my ability to make Mormonism seem "normal," was the best PR I could create for the Church...and that, in turn, would disarm people from their prejudices against the Church. And that, in my head, was always put into the same column as the activities the ward mission always asked us to do. If I'm really honest, I probably felt as though what I have described was more...practical and effective and non-judgmental than traditional missionary activities.

I was in a missionary work ivory tower, if you will.

But I had a powerful thought burst through the missionary work barricades in my mind recently. In all this time that I spent disarming others, I didn't realize that I had become like Venus de Milo (above) in that, to outsiders, I was interesting and an anomaly amongst my Mormon peers, but nothing about my approach invited others to draw nearer. Sure, that made them feel more comfortable, but that comfort and my "good PR" strategy were both hollow. My words and actions didn't reflect a metaphorical stretching forth of arms in order to welcome others to experience the joy that I have experienced.

Juxtapose this with a quite well-known painting of Christ (recently of Provo Tabernacle fire fame):

Or with the Christus found in many LDS temple visitor's centers:

In both, Christ's arms are outstretched, saying without words "Come, follow me." Saying "I love you, and I care for you, and I just want you to be happy." These outstretched arms are warm and inviting. Indeed, these outstretched arms do disarm...but not through blasé rhetoric and not through wit and not even solely through transparency. Through love. And the results of said method are exponentially more rewarding to all involved.

And the thing is, that I do this in many areas of my life. Mainly, I think, because I try to have as few expectations as possible of others. I don't expect sameness from my friends and family. I joy in the differences and learn from them. So, how do I invite others to join me without betraying that principle that variance is good? I'm not sure.

With this in mind, this year I want to grow in this direction. I want to practice opening my arms and not simply live with transparency, but also be as warm and welcoming as I can. I want to create space around me for people to pull closer and to become better or happier or more fulfilled, not because of who I am, but because of how I share who I am.

Instantly Improved Vision

Brian Regan. Much loved comic of the Mormon peoples. He has a bit about going to the eye doctor that is brilliantly funny. Its pure hilarity lies in the fact that his observations are so true.

I'm wearing new contacts. I just had my prescription changed...after six years. You ever wait that long? Then you get new lenses and you're like "Man, I coulda been seeing things!" How could instantly improved vision not be at the top of your to do list? "Aah, I'll see tomorrow...I don't have time. I don't have time!...to see clearly.

No, I can't do that. You see what's on my desk?"

Every single time I pull my glasses off of my face to clean them and realize how smudgy they had become, I have this momentary flashback to this bit. Such was the case in Church today. I looked at my lens and saw smudges of mascara, a few dried drops of rain from when I was running inside and some smudged fingerprints. I had a passing thought: How was it that I didn't even realize that they were this dirty? And then Brian's words: How could instantly improved vision not be at the top of your to do list?

Perhaps it was the Church setting or maybe it was just a lesson that I needed to learn, but the very next thought–a thought that felt like it was something I already knew, but hadn't yet realized–was Is instantly improved spiritual vision at the top of my to do list?

At this time of year, many of us turn inward, reflecting on what we have done this past year and spending time envisioning the persons that we could be, the grand changes that we could make, in the year to come. As we vision those grander horizons–those more noble selves–do we hope to see the world more clearly through increasingly spiritual eyes?

I wonder...

Do we do enough to claim for ourselves the vision that Christ would have us have in this world?

Are we complacent to view life through mortal eyes, despite our divine investiture?

Do our actions reflect a commitment to rely on Christ to clear our views of telestial splotches, fingerprints and water stains?

Above all, if we know the steps to gain better and more clear spiritual prescriptions, why is instantly improved vision not at the top of our to do lists?