Hate and Bigotry

Hate:  to dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward. 

Bigot:  a person who is utterly intolerant of any differing creed, belief, or opinion.

It seems that in the last week and one-half these words have flown around like the Autumn leaves falling from trees, except they've been descending about as gently as bombs.  The accusers are people all over the country who are enraged over the passage of Proposition 8 in California, which is, as we have all come to know, a state constitutional ban on same-sex marriage.  It seems that the accused, interestingly enough, are largely leaders and members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who supported the amendment.  That support came from individual citizens in the form of financial donations, volunteer time, and a vote 'yes' at the ballot box.  Never mind that members of the church only make up 5% of California's population and never mind that the 'Yes on 8' Coalition was made up of numerous different organizations and faiths, and never mind that the church made NO monetary donations as an organization, and never mind that the measure passed with 52% of the vote, and never mind that the church put out several statements urging love and civility throughout the process.  None of that seems to matter to those who are pointing fingers at the church as the main force of “hate and bigotry” behind the amendments adoption by the majority of Californians.  Granted, the First Presidency encouraged members to participate and they responded with nearly half of the money raised for ‘Yes on 8’ and contributed a huge portion of the volunteering.  But ultimately it was the voters who decided.  Is it not a stretch to say that 52% of Californians were duped and manipulated by the “hateful” minority of Mormons?  Nobody forced anyone to the polls nor did anybody force anyone to vote yes.  It is an especially interesting accusation given that the ‘No on 8’ campaign had just as much advertising, more money, and more prestige.

The church has now been a major target of the protesting that began almost immediately after the official word of successful passage of the proposition.  It has come in the form of a burning Book of Mormon on chapel steps, protests at sacred sites, shot-out windows, white powder pranks, vandalism, boycotts and threatened boycotts, forced resignations, and a drive to send Pres. Monson a post card for every donation made to the reversal campaign that will indicate the donation is being made in his name.  These folks carry signs that malign the church and its members as hate mongers and bigots.  They further express their belief that the church and its people are forcing their beliefs on others and inappropriately mixing church and state.

As I have watched the events unfold I have wondered where the hate and bigotry really lies.  For anyone who has taken an introductory psychology class you have likely learned about defense mechanisms.  Defense mechanisms are strategies of the psyche that we use to deal with difficult truth or reality through which we avoid facing intolerable feelings such as guilt, anger, hatred, and so forth.  Projection is a defense mechanism in which we ascribe to another person or group feelings, thoughts, or attitudes that are actually present in ourselves.  See, if we project unpleasant/unacceptable feelings or attitudes onto others, as if they are theirs, we do not have to face the truth of ourselves.  Displacement is a defense mechanism in which we transfer an emotion from its original focus onto another, usually less threatening or easy target.  For example, we get angry at our boss but can't take it out on him so we take it out on the secretary.

Back to the question then, where does the hate and bigotry lie?  No doubt, there are plenty of members of the church who are hateful and bigoted.  Surely, some supporters of prop 8 have displayed these characteristics.  Nevertheless, I am not aware of any protests by members of the church against the L.A. or Salt Lake Pride Center when 4 presumptuous judges on the Supreme Court of California made a decision about same-sex marriage on behalf of 34 million people.  I'm not aware of any book burnings, or vandalism, or shot out windows.  I know of no signs at that time that accused the supporters of homosexual marriage as being intolerant and hateful, nor do I know of any forced resignations, or mocking/vilifying of the leaders in their community.  I'm not aware of any of that from Latter-day Saints.  Nor do I suspect there would have been any of that had the measure failed, aside from perhaps some fringe-type wackos.  In fact, the church has called on its members throughout the campaign to be compassionate and civil.  They have reiterated over and over and over again that we must be peaceful, respectful, and kind.   

So I ask again, where is the hate?  Who is the bigot?  Is it hateful to have a differing view about marriage?  Is it bigoted to stand up for what you believe in?  Or, are these vitriolic accusations a kind of collective projection and displacement?  No individual or group in our society wants to be labeled a hater or a bigot or a discriminator.  So-called closed-mindedness and intolerance seem to be the ultimate social sins.  Thus, these labels become over-used and easy ammunition to silence and invalidate anyone who disagrees.  At the same time, they are persuasive to hypersensitive fence-sitters who don't want to commit any social sins or appear on the wrong side of "progress".  To be fair, not everyone that supports gay marriage has engaged in the rhetoric and immature behavior.  In fact, many are calling for peaceful and constructive dialogue.  But it seems ironic that those who are shouting "hate" and "bigotry" the loudest seem to have an awful lot of it in their own hearts.  

This is a very difficult issue, one that will not go away anytime soon.  It is creating dissonance in communities and congregations and families all over this nation.  Positions will likely not change on either side.  What can change, however, is a little more empathy and charity on both sides.  More to come on this later.

When Thy Sweet Spirit Strikes the Strings

Over the past year or so I have been a member of 3 different wards.  In conjunction with various family functions and vacations I have had the opportunity to attend a few others.  I've been reflecting quite a bit in the last several months about what I see at church.  I must admit that sometimes I have a knack for picking up the character and personality of others, especially when it comes to their eccentricities and quirks.  It's not a trait that I am particularly proud of and I try not to use it as a source for criticism.  I also try not to psychoanalyze anyone who is not sitting in front of me in my office.  Nevertheless, it is easy for me to get frustrated or amused or annoyed by the man who constantly talks about the sealed portion of the Book of Mormon and its contents or the one who bears his testimony about how Barack Obama is going to destroy the world (not a supporter of Obama either but, really, testimony meeting??).  The choir director who has ADD or the auxiliary leader who is just a bit too focused on the presentation and the details instead of the message.  You have your know-it-alls and your tell-it-alls, your yappers and your snappers, your out-of-control children, and your too-much-in-control teachers/leaders.  This to say little of some of the resulting lessons, talks, and comments from these unique folks.  It's the same everywhere you go, right?  I don't think it matters if it's a student ward or a family ward, a Utah ward or an any other ward.  "The church is the same everywhere you go" as we like to say.

But, you know, that's not the real focus of what I've been pondering about.  I'm aware of it, sure, but all those thoughts are just part of my dirty, stinking pride that creeps up too often.  I've been thinking instead about the miracle of the Church.  The absolute wonder of it.  I've been thinking about how every Sunday people all over the world gather together to give talks, and read scriptures, and make commentary, and listen, and take bread and water.  The people are busy and preoccupied and burdened.  They are imperfect.  Yet, in each ward that I've been in, as a member or a visitor, I sit in a sunday school class or sacrament meeting and feel the goodness of the people.  The pure goodness.  They come and they participate for the same reasons I do.  They are called by the same Voice and are united under the same Head.  I sense that often they have a keen awareness of their imperfection but they are trying.  In the midst of all the weirdness and weakness I see remarkable faith and humility, often from the same people!  I see hope and virtue, diligence and love.  I am taught and touched by their gifts, examples, and sacrifice.  It is an incredible thing to see people in their true light.  Those talks and lessons and comments are more than words, they are inspiration, they are more than filler, they are truth.  The taking of the bread and water in unison with the saints is a process of covenant renewal and sacred worship, not just taking a tray and passing it down to your neighbor.  We remember and witness individually and collectively.  In the process, my imperfection and their imperfection is being chipped away - all that sin and all those quirks - one piece at a time. 

The last few Sundays I've felt this impression particularly powerfully.  It was a typical Sabbath today.  Priesthood was about service and we heard mission stories and testimony and home teaching plugs.  Sunday school was centered on 3 Nephi 17-19 and we discussed the Savior's visit to the Americas.  Sacrament meeting was the Primary program and we heard familiar primary songs and the simple Word from the children.  We smiled at their indiscernable shouts into the microphone and their waving and daydreaming.  For all intents and purposes, very usual meetings.  We even had kids crying so loud by the end of the program that the benediction was not audible.  Yet, through it all I felt a profound and comforting spirit.  It was a spirit of reverence and awe at what was happening.  In the process of those lessons I heard sincere and thought-provoking words.  I felt faith and testimony.  I saw and received charity.  I observed humility.  I was touched by song.  There I was, one of many in our building today and one of millions all over the world, to worship and to learn.  I came to commune with God and be uplifted by my brothers and sisters.  Wonderfully and mercifully, in the midst of all the imperfection and weirdness, I did and I was.

At the close of the meeting our Bishop stood to offer a few closing remarks.  He spoke emotionally of how the previous day he had participated in the funeral of his infant grandson, who we had all been praying for with him and his family for several weeks.  He mentioned how he had been so touched by the outpouring of love and support from the ward that this little baby and his parents belong to.  He bore testimony of the blessing of little children.  As he concluded his remarks the primary children presented him with a huge card showing their love for their Bishop at a time of grief and loss.  He thanked the children and simply said, "there is always good that comes of tragedy".  It was a snapshot of exactly what I'm talking about.  The tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat prevented me from singing most of the closing hymn, even with all the screaming children.  I was just consumed for a moment in the goodness of God and the goodness of His people.  The words of the hymn expressed the feelings of my heart.

Before thee, Lord, I bow my head

And thank thee for what has been said. 

My soul vibrates; my poor heart sings

When thy sweet Spirit strikes the strings.

How sweet thy word I've heard this day!

Be thou my guide, O Lord, I pray.

May I in patience do my part.

Seal thou the word upon my heart.

Do thou, O Lord, anoint mine eyes

That I may see and win the prize.

My heart is full; mine eyes are wet.

Oh, help me, Lord, lest I forget.

So may my soul be filled with light

That I may see and win the fight,

And then at last exalted be,

In peace and rest, O Lord, with thee.

 

             

    

Tempio a Roma #2

A few satellite pictures of the temple site!

I wish I could figure out how to highlight the plot of land...but I've tried and I can't.  Running from the top-center to the right-bottom is a piece of the freeway that circles Rome, known as the GRA.  The church land is in the center of the image.

A closer view.  The land stretches from the top to the bottom of the image.  You can see the villetta with the olive grove underneath.

A closer view of the villetta and the olive grove.  The satellite photos must have been taken in the Fall or early Winter because I don't remember it being brown like this.  They don't do it justice.  It really is a cool place.

Tempio a Roma

In May of 2005 I began this blog with a post about the very first stake in Rome, Italy, which was being organized that very day.  I mentioned the historic nature of this event, not only because it was the first stake in Rome since the apostasy, but because it was an important step toward the building of a temple in Italy.  I talked about some of the prophecies that had been made by Lorenzo Snow and Ezra Taft Benson regarding the future of the work of the Lord in Italy.  Well, now 3 1/2 years later the Lord has seen fit to answer the multitudinous prayers of the Italian saints and the missionaries who have served them over many years!  As you all know, in the Saturday morning session of general conference President Monson announced that a temple would be built in Rome.  The gasp throughout the Conference Center was audible and so was mine, indicative not just of our surprise but also of our excitement.  It was not an announcement that I expected but one that I received with great joy.  I am so grateful and happy for the members of the Church in Italy.  It did not take long for me to determine that Tania and I WILL be attending the dedication.

The temple will be built on a piece of land that the Church has owned for several years.  Just prior to the time that I served in Italy, the Church purchased a plot of land on the outskirts of Rome, just inside a huge circular freeway that surrounds the greater Rome area.  The land is 15 acres and sits on a hill - a classic temple site.  It was formerly the site of an old Villa surrounded by trees and an olive grove.  It has long been suspected that this would be the future site of the temple.  On the day that we arrived in Rome, jet-lagged though we were, we spent some time on this land.  The mission president shared with us the prophecies regarding Italy and then gave us time to go into the olive grove to reflect, ponder, and pray.  One year later, following a transfer to Rome, this piece of land with its Villa became my home.  While the Villa itself was less than ideal, the opportunity to live on this sacred plot of ground was a privilege.  It was truly a beautiful place.  I loved watching the sun shine through the olive trees in the early hours of the morning as I studied, or watching the sun set from the balcony on the rare occasion that we were home at sunset.  I have treasured and sacred memories of this place, which will soon be the site for the first house of the Lord in Italy in the known history of the world.

On one occasion the neighboring property had a significant grass fire.  The fire spread rapidly and burned a good portion of the neighbor's land.  Strangely enough, it did not even touch the church land.  There was a distinct line right at the property where the fire stopped, and I have pictures to prove it.  It was remarkable.  On another occasion the Lord granted my companion and I a great "tender mercy".  Our water heater was less-than-consistent.  We had been working hard preparing for conferences and we were tired of taking cold showers.  We determined that in our companionship prayer we would pray that the following day we would have hot water.  In fact, I believe we thanked God for giving us hot water the next day, as if it had already happened.  Sure enough, the following day we took showers in steaming bliss!  The next day the water was cold again but we didn't mind.  Some might want to dismiss such trivial things as mere coincidence, but I'm just simple enough to believe that a kind Father was passing out bread and fishes.

On the day I was transferred from Rome I again took some time to walk through the olive grove one last time.  I felt the love of God and the sweet spirit that was a part of that future hallowed ground.  I grabbed an olive branch as a reminder and souvenir.  The olive branch is now just twigs and leaves in a baggy, but I still have it, and it still reminds me of the time I lived on the plot of land that will soon house a temple in Rome!  God be thanked for having seen fit to grant this blessing to the people of Italy and the whole Mediterranean region!   

Shooting the Tube

Have you ever heard of shooting the tube?  Well, in high school some of my brothers were introduced to this activity.  It involves going to the east side of Salt Lake, right where the I-80 freeway heads up Parley's Canyon.  You park at the Sons of the Utah Pioneers building and hike your way down to the creek below.  Apparently when they constructed the freeway they diverted the creek underneath by way of a huge tube.  The tube is probably over a hundred yards in length and at least 8 or 9 feet in diameter.  Where the creek meets the tube on the east side of the freeway there is a pool of water that develops, which then constantly flows down toward another pool at the bottom on the west side of the freeway.  You walk up the inside of the tube in a little under a foot of freezing cold water.  You then dam up the top pool with boards, which are always available.  Once the pool has collected a large amount of water everyone sits down (this is the worst part because it is so cold) in a line and the guy in the back removes the boards.  The collected water shoots down the tube and sends everyone in the tube sailing downward and into the pool below.  The water is so freezing that it takes your breath away...and some jerks like to splash the whole way down!  Bodies crash into each other as you fly out of the tube and into the lower pool.  Of course, the water is still coming for awhile, so it takes a little effort to get up and out of the pool.  It is better than any water slide you'll ever ride, except for the cold part.  Just before my brother Mike headed back to Boston, my brothers, sister, and I went for a run.  This was my second time, and I gotta say, a lot better than my first!  We didn't have anyone to take pictures of the actual event so we had to do some staged ones.  Both pictures are at the bottom of the tube just before it empties into the pool.  It was a good time!

P.S.  Yes, I have gained weight since I got married.