Thoughts on the Church/Corporation Relationship

For those readers not native to Downtown Salt Lake:
Recently the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints invested in developing a mall right next to Temple Square.  This has led, among some, to controversy about the Church's "for profit" ventures, and the corporate aspects of the Church.  This controversy is generally limited to those who would be opposed to anything that any religion has ever done; however, since this is something of a sore spot for some, and since most of the information (as is generally the case) that is being spread the loudest is generally of a negative nature, I felt like it would be a good idea to try to explain some of the reasoning behind what is going on here.  In no way should my views be construed to represent the official position of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  They are purely my own, although I feel they are founded soundly both in the doctrines of Christ, and in logical reasoning.  To those "That make a man an offender for a word...and turn aside the just for a thing of nought" (Isaiah 29:21), you're welcome not to read.  Nobody's forcing you.

To those who are upset about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints' involvement in the City Creek venture and other "for profit" ventures, and/or who feel such involvement is hypocritical, may I point out a few things:

1) Take a walk down main street sometime.  Look at the businesses and services offered there.  Generally speaking, there's not much to speak of that's worthwhile in the way of "wholesome family activity". Further, might I point out that Harmon's is pretty much the only game around for some of us in terms of grocery shopping (meaning that there really wasn't anything before the City Creek project).  While City Creek may be making a profit, it is also beautifying and providing services in an area that most investors seem unwilling to make an effort.  In fact, the Church has waited years to invest there, hoping someone else would make the effort.

2) When it comes to "for-profit" ventures seeming to defy the words and example of Christ, could I just point out the parable of the talents?  Christ deplored people taking what was given to them and simply burying it; He taught self reliance, and "taking the initiative"...I, for one, am pleased to see that the Church is taking my tithing money, and investing it, in a manner that means that the most good will come from it, since they are investing it in ways that both aid communities, and give back to the Church coffers.  The alternative, for those of you who don't know, would be that the Church ask extra donations of every local member in order to build every Church building, requiring much of the cost of local meeting houses and temples at the hands of those who live around them.  What this would translate to is lots of nice Church buildings and temples in areas where Church member population is dense, and the people are well off (read: America, and especially Utah), but no Church buildings or temples to speak of, or much lower quality buildings in places (like my beloved India) where the people simply cannot afford the same kinds of donations.

3) To those concerned that the Church leaders are spending all of their time on ventures like this, and are "too busy to answer questions from the media", as someone put it: these concerns are not run directly by the Apostles or the Presidency.  Walk into an LDS distribution center some time, and take a look at the cash register.  They may not have the signs any more, but there used to be a sign at every register that said "Please make checks payable to the Corporation of the Presiding Bishopric".  The Presiding Bishopric is responsible for the handling of all of the temporal (meaning worldly--ie paying for buildings, managing business ventures, etc) affairs of the Church.  While members of the Quorum of the 12 and of the First Presidency of the Church were probably involved in the final approvals, at the end of the day the bulk of the work on things like this falls to the Presiding Bishopric.

I could continue to cite why I feel no qualms about ventures like this, but I suppose at the end of the day, it really won't matter to most.  Those who seek a place to argue and bring down will always find something to latch onto.  For those, however, who are members of the Church, and who do feel misgivings, may I point out another two things:

1) Men (and women) are fallible.  Although the Church is led and organized by a perfect God, soemtimes the people He delegates to make mistakes and are imperfect.  As it turns out, so do I, and, unless I'm very mistaken in assuming that at least one non-resurrected human being will read this, so do you.  Take it for what it is.

2) This Church is based upon modern revelation, both to individual members, and to its leaders.  If you have misgivings about what your leaders are doing, may I suggest that in almost every case I've observed, the problem has been with the objector, rather than the leader.  When we take the actions of righteous, inspired men to be offensive or hard, generally it bespeaks something about the strength of our testimony of the organization of the Church.  Are leaders fallible? Certainly.  Does the Lord generally allow men and women to be called to prominent leadership positions in the Church, knowing their hearts, and knowing that they would lead His Church and His children astray? Generally no. 
To me, this falls under basically the same head as accepting callings: if I have an issue with the calling that the Lord is offering me through His duly appointed servants, this indicates more to me a lack of testimony and faith on my side than it does a lack of revelation on the leader's side.  So, I guess what I'm saying is, before you go criticizing the leaders of the Church, look critically at the strength of your own testimony, and ask yourself where you stand spiritually.  As Nephi said to his brothers so many years ago when he found them disputing the revelations of their spiritual leader, "Have ye inquired of the Lord?" (1 Ne 15:8).

Thoughts on the American Dream

Author's Note: this post may offend some.  If my words seem insensitive, I apologize; however, I do not apologize for my opinions, as I feel they are founded in sound logical, economical, and spiritual reasoning.

“The Roman people need fed!”
The unemployed masses all pled
“We’re too busy, don’t work us!
We must see the Circus!”
I wonder—who’s making the bread…? " -Raymond Walther  (That's right.  I did that)

For the past several weeks, I think, this has been trying to work its way out.  It first really dawned on me as I walked from the Institute to the engineering building (approximately 1 mile, by the way).  See, the thing is, I don't have the funds to pay for a parking pass that would allow me to park at the engineering building, but I don't mind; this way, I force myself to get to Institute every week, and I get a fair bit of exercise.  But I digress.

During my (often several) daily walks between the engineering building and the Institute, I have a lot of time to ponder.  A point of especially serious concern is usually the problems faced by our generation, and how I plan to prepare my own family to withstand them.  One morning, a couple of weeks ago, it really hit me: the American Dream is our problem.

Well, that's not exactly true.  I'm not really sure when I first came to understand the meaning of the American Dream, but I recall a teacher explaining it when I was in third or fourth grade: that in America, a man (or woman) can be whatever they want, have whatever they want, if they're willing to work hard enough at it.  Somehow, though, I think our society was only half listening, and only caught the "In America, you can have whatever you want" part.  Then, they conflated "can have" with "should have", and then further conflated that with "deserve".  And thus we find ourselves today.

Most of the young men and women I meet at college seem to have the same attitude: find the easiest degree for them to obtain, and then get a job where they can pretend to be working 8 hours a day, and get paid for it.  Few people that I meet seem concerned with creating actual value through their labor nearly as much as they are with making money.  Take, for instance, the way that my concerns about poorly edited/poorly written contemporary literature are generally met with the argument, "But it sure made them a lot of money!"  The question is, if we're all sitting around getting overpaid to do little or no work, where is the value of money at all?  Someone somewhere must actually be producing things worth buying, or we wouldn't want the money to buy things with.  Eventually, though, the industrious few who support the lazy many will say, "Enough!", and then it will be a real pickle, because nobody will be eating at all.

In other words, let me break this down: if you can't afford it, save your shekels, don't try to buy it on someone else's dime (and that's what you're doing when you accept "the government's money", because that money was taken from someone else's paycheck); you don't deserve a big house, a car, a yard, or anything else just for the sake of the fact that you're alive.  I know families that live quite happily without owning any of those things. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping people out who need help, but I'm not for giving them everything that they think they need without requiring anything of them in return.  In the words of Christ, "the laborer is worthy of his hire." (Luke 10:7, emphasis added). I think too often we're so trained by the world and by our own flesh to avoid work, that we forget the real enjoyment and fulfillment that it brings.  The fact is, when we "help" others by handing out to them every little thing that they want, we deprive them of the most fundamental human right that they ought to be entitled to: self respect.  So, even if it means paying out of pocket for medical expenses because government funded insurance is too expensive for people who actually try to work it out; even if it means not owning my own home for a good long time; even if it means that I make less money than some other students I know simply because I actually have a job; even if it means making a lot of my own stuff (which, by the way, is way more fun, and cooler, anyway) because I can't afford things--I'll work it out.  Because, it turns out, half of the meaning of achieving the American Dream is being able to look back and say, "I did that.  Maybe I am worth a darn after all."

"Why seek [we] the living among the dead?" (Luke 24:5)

 "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39)

It is not often that I have dreams that I recall.  It is even more infrequent that I have dreams so vivid that when I awake I find myself still emotionally, if not physically, engrossed in the dream's content.  This morning was one of those.

I do not recall the exact details of most of the dream, but I remember there was a young boy, entangled in the harness of a parachute, dangling in the air and begging for help.  I and another helped him escape his entanglement.  No sooner had we done so than the boy immediately produced a small package from somewhere, and began to check its contents.  The package was clearly labelled as pornography, and the boy carefully checked its contents, labeling each thing within the package to be sure they were all there.  I and my companion (I really don't remember who this person was) begged the boy to be rid of it, told him that it was not a precious thing, but was in fact filth that ought to be cast aside.

At first, he would not listen, but the longer we pleaded, the more clear it became that the boy did want to be rid of it, but felt he could not; to do so was impossible.  When I awoke, I awoke concerned with how to convince this boy: there is no hole too deep, no addiction too powerful that Christ cannot reach in and help us up.  I have experienced his Atoning power to heal and help personally; his path may not seem easy at first, but the longer I seek to remain on it, the more I realize that the labors of Christ are so much better than the heartache and pain of laboring in sin.  Shortly before the culmination of His Atoning sacrifice, Christ told his disciples, "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." (John 16:33).  His power over sin and addiction is as real as His power over death and over the elements.  He is ready and waiting to help any who will but reach for His outstretched arm.

So, this Easter morning, with so many great men who have endured tribulation for His name's sake, and many who still do, I testify of this: He is the Rock and the Redeemer of Israel, and He is risen, the Son of the Living God.  His power is as real today as it ever was before.  As angels testified to the women of old at the tomb on that morning so long ago: "Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus...He is not here: for he is risen, as he said." (Matt 28:5-6)

Thoughts on heroism

"Silence implies consent"

The thought came to me this morning--as thoughts often do.  I mulled over it for quite some time, trying to find its essence, to understand it, to come to terms with what it really meant.  It's frustrating, sometimes, seeing, thinking, knowing exactly what it is that you want to express, and yet it comes out flawed.  No matter how many drafts I try at this, I doubt greatly that this will be any more than a shadow of the profundity that occured to me this morning.  To some, it may seem pedestrian, a non-issue.  Take it for what it's worth.

I've been studying the book of Mormon (as in the book written primarily by the Prophet Mormon, not the larger abridgement, of which it is a part) lately.  Every time I read it, I can't help but be struck by the plight of Mormon and Moroni: alone, the last followers of Christ among their people.  In institute a couple of weeks ago, my teacher posed the worthy question: what do you do in that situation? When it's lonely and scary to do the right thing, how do you keep on going?

As I got into the shower this morning, at least a part of the answer seemed to dawn on me unasked for:

In Mormon 8:35, Moroni says:

Behold, I speak unto you as if ye were present, and yet ye are not. But behold, Jesus Christ hath shown you unto me, and I know your doing.

The Lord showed him our day--showed him the followers of Christ in the Latter-days who would be reading the things that he and his father (and so many of his ancestors) sacrificed so much to protect and bring forth for us.  And that's the thing: true heroism, the real deal, it's never about the hero, or the odds that face him.  Mormon got the Nephites to stand boldly by recalling to them the lives of their wives and their children (Mormon 2:23); Captain Moroni's title of liberty focused primarily on reminding the people that they fought for their religion, and for their families.  Perhaps the greatest examples of courage in all the scriptures are the stripling warriors, of whom it was said "they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives" (Alma 56:47)

I think that's what really motivates men to righteous courage.  It's the difference between a hero and just a regular schmoe.  To a hero, it's not nearly so important how many people stand against him as it is how many people depend upon him; no cost to himself--even if it be his own life--is too high, no obstacle insurmountable if it means he can aid the people that he loves.

Where are such men and women in our days?  It seems to me that increasingly people (including myself) base their judgements of good or bad upon what the world says is right and good.  The world screams that we ought not to "indoctrinate" children with religion, but rather teach them to "think for themselves", by allowing them to do whatever the world tells them is a good idea.  Too often I am told that a movie or book is "good" by people who claim the same standards as I hold, only to find it abhorrent (and generally poorly written).  Then, when I seek to voice my opinion, I find myself confronted on every side, and more often than not by those (again) who ought to stand beside me.

Don't get me wrong-I don't have all the answers.  I certainly don't feel like I'm perfect.  I fall short more often than not.  Yet I look upon our generation, and I'm filled with concern as I watch men and women simply accepting whatever dreadfully icky course of entertainment the world would place before them, and then behaving as though I am the one in the wrong when I refuse to consume unquestioningly, simply based upon the fact that it's "popular."

So, to those whom I care about and offend often, know this: I say what I do because I care.  When I speak with intesity and passion, it's most often because I feel like the things I'm saying are falling upon deaf ears, and I'm frustrated.  I apologize for sometimes allowing my emotions to control me, but I will not apologize for the views that I present when they are firmly founded in things that you and I both claim to believe.

"I give unto men weakness..."

Ether 12:27

I really, really like music.  And I especially like listening to music in my car.  I know, right now, you're probably wondering what that has to do with the title.  You'll figure it out; you figured out solid mechanics (if not, check out this and/or this), after all...you must be smart folks (or just gluttons for punishment, like I am).

So, about that title...

Last week, my ward was reorganized somewhat, to include many new members from another ward.  In reaction to this, our bishop decided that he would teach a combined Priesthood/Relief Society class this past week.  The topic: faith.  First of all, can I just say that my bishop is awesome?  That lesson gave me enough food for thought for weeks, and I missed about half of it.  "How," you may ask, "if this lesson was so wonderful, did you miss so much of it, Raymond?"

I wasn't asleep, if that's your concern.  I only do that during school classes...

No, the reason that I missed half of the lesson is that something he said was so thought provoking that it took me quite some time to capture what I gathered from it in a manner that I felt was satisfactory.  It was something he's said before, but it was like it just clicked right then.

He was discussing barriers to developing the rare, miraculous, great faith that is so needed in the Church and in our lives, and came to Ether 12:27 (Ha! told you I'd get to the title):

And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

After we read it, there was some discussion on the verse.  It was far from innovative; most everyone in the room had probably read the verse loads of times, and been lectured on it in Seminary or Institute or Sunday School or on a mission at least once.  And yet, when the bishop brought it back around to the point he was trying to make, it was a point that I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone else make:

Most of us seem to read that verse and see weakness as negative; we think of all of the things that we hate about ourselves, the things we wish that we could change, all the stupid things we say and do all of the time, etc.  And those are weaknesses, it's true.  The thing is, though, we seem to miss one very important word in there: God says that he gives us weakness.  In a sense, then, our weaknesses are, in fact, gifts from God--a part of this mortal experience that is necessary to our progression.

Like I said, I'd heard the bishop speak about this before.  But this time, it just clicked in a way that I had never really thought of before.  Because the things is, God doesn't only ask us to lay aside our weaknesses to follow him.  He asks us to bring everything that we have, everything that we are, and lay it at his feet. 

In The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis, the narrator is given something of a tour of heaven by an angel named George MacDonald.  In the course of their tour, the narrator watches as one woman, whose son we gather died very young, rejects even the help of her own brother (now in angelic form) because all she can think of is seeing her son again.  She cites the love of a mother, and pleads, implores, and finally demands that she be shown her son again before she is willing to do anything to qualify to enter.  In the end, her attachment would have her see her son join her in hell, rather than be separated from him. 

Immediately thereafter, the narrator watches as another man, plagued by lust (embodied in the form of a lizard whispering in his ear), finally lets go of his weakness, allowing angelic help to "kill" it.  Much to the narrator's surprise, however, the lizard does not disappear, but rather grows, until it becomes a magnificent stallion.  The man, now angelified, takes the reins of the extraordinary beast, mounts it, and as one they ride off into heaven. 

The narrator is justifiably perplexed, upon comparing these two scenes.  After all, is not love one of the noble emotions?  Ought not a mother be allowed to love her child?  Certainly this is not to be compared with the base lust of the man.  In reconciling the disconnect, George MacDonald explains to Lewis's narrator, "Nothing [in our nature], not even the best and noblest, can go on as it now is.  Nothing, not even what is lowest and most bestial, will not be raised again if it submits to death...Flesh and blood cannot come to [heaven].  Not because they are too rank, but because they are too weak. What is a lizard compared to a stallion?" (I don't think he's suggesting that men don't enter the presence of God with bodies, but rather that just as our bodies must be changed to withstand the glory of God, so must our natures)  He then asks, "if the risen body of appetite is as grand a horse as ye saw, what would the risen body of maternal love or friendship be?"

I guess that last is really the part that resonated.  Sort of. 

What I realized Sunday is that Heavenly Father is going to ask each of us to sacrifice things that are good things, things that we could feel justified in desiring in for our lives.  Without a real trust in God, these sacrifices can sometimes be harder than sacrificing something that is part of our nature but we don't like.  If the Lord hadn't blessed me with so many weaknesses and abhorrent character flaws that I really want His help in overcoming, then I'd have an even harder time than I do working through the other things He asks me to give up.

Grassroots politics, or, the Reason that Citizens Feel Powerless

"It's nothing personal...I just think you're nuts." -My thoughts as I cast my ballot tonight

I love going to caucus meetings.  For awhile now, my dad's been the chair in our precinct, and so from before the time I could vote, I was forced to be involved.  There was no question about my going tonight--even when my roommate had tickets to the Jazz game, and offered me one.

When I got to the elementary school where the meeting was to be held, there were three other people in the room, but by the time it was over, there were probably twenty.  That was a lot for this precinct, although if you think about the fact that there are over a thousand people in the precinct, it becomes somewhat sad.

The main topic of discussion: Orrin Hatch.  For the most part, the people running for state delegate (ie the people who get to go to the state convention and actually vote for who the Republican candidates in the national senate and congress, and the state governor races will be) seemed to hold a similar opinion to my own: he's been there more than long enough.  We need some new blood; on the other hand, though, change simply for the sake of change brings...well, it usually doesn't bring good change.  I chose not to run (sorry, Dad), because it seemed like a couple of the candidates were very reasonable, thinking, not crazy people.

And then there was the guy next to me.

Let me preface this: unlike most of the people there, I actually did do some homework before I went into the meeting.  Most of the candidates against Hatch are running a straight "No excuses! No compromise!  Ammend the constitution to make our way the only way!" campaign; while I think their intentions are good, most of them downright scared me with how extremist they were.  Even if they didn't, I'm experienced enough with people (believe it or not, I do talk to them sometimes) to realize that a "my way or the highway" approach never wins out unless it's backed by total fear of what "the highway" actually entails.  This is especially a problem considering that the main concern in voting out Hatch is the loss of what clout he's gained by being in office so long (clout that a brand new senator from Utah who refuses to even listen to other people probably won't ever have). 

So, when the guy sitting next to me started his pitch for delegacy with something along the lines of "So and so mentioned wanting to pick people who can compromise, but isn't compromise essentially selling out our values?  I really like how some of the candidates running against Hatch really aren't going to compromise."  the little red lights started flashing in my mind, and the words of my father (if you don't run for state delegate, some crazy person will!) rang in my ears.  Because the thing is, I don't really want to elect crazy, unreasonable people, no matter what they say they'll do; I'm much more comfortable voting for someone who is reasonable and not ready to sell what we have right now up the river for any kind of "change".

Then, on top of everything else, when they handed out our slips, and instructed us to write down our vote, he leans over to me, making me feel like he's going to read my ballot, and says "So, you're going to vote for me, right?" I'm not sure if he was trying to pressure me, or if he was really just that deluded, that he felt like a sure winner.  Either way, my reply was, "It's a secret ballot."  Which, of course, meant, "No, I'm voting for one of the three other people who isn't a nutter..."

It's interesting to me, really, the way that we can get so caught up in trying to do what we feel is right that sometimes we forget that we're human, and we can make mistakes.  I had a conversation with a friend recently, in the which he argued that it's a good thing to be "stubbornly righteous."  He meant by that that we ought to be unwilling to yield when someone tries to get us to do something wrong, which I agreed with, but it scares me when people think that way.

See, I just finished reading The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis (I highly recommend it), and I've been reading in Mormon and Ether in The Book of Mormon; the message I've been getting from all of them is embodied by Lewis's words, "There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says in the end, 'Thy will be done.'  All that are in Hell choose it." (pg 75 in the Barnes and Noble Edition)  or in Isaiah's, "Wo be unto him that shall say:...we have enough!" (as quoted in 2 Ne 28:29).  There's strength in coming together, and hashing out a problem to get the best solution (or at least a really good one, since engineering school keeps teaching me that most solution sets are infinite), even if that really just means going with the idea that you had to begin with.  Sometimes, it's the tiniest tweaks to a plan that really make the difference.

And I guess that was what the caucus was really about.  We got together as members of a community, and we sat and discussed for a while about what we really felt like needed to happen.  Then we set things in motion to make them happen.  It turns out that we're not alone; we have communities, and we can get together, and make stuff happen, if we'd all just get over our "I have to be a hero and do it alone" syndrome.  There's a time and a place for that, but where there are others genuinely trying to work for the same stuff as us, that's just crazy talk.  I, for one, feel a little more like I have some real power in this democracy thing.

Author's note: if you want to talk to me about politics, my first question from now on will be "Did you go to your caucus?"

"if God so clothe the grass of the field..."

(3 Nephi 13:30)

There's a lot of things I've been wanting to post lately, but my life's been just a bit busy.  Not to mention, they're complicated, and I'm not sure I can do them justice... Most of the time when I do anything artistic, I feel like the five year old who has this beautiful dream of a sculpture, and then ends up with sort of lumpy clay thing.  Such is life, I suppose.

I was asked once, long ago when I was a pre-mission, dorm-dwelling college freshman in my very first YSA Ward, what my favorite season is.  I'm very poor at choosing favorites, and on the spot, in front of everyone at ward prayer, I just sort of said I didn't know.  "I live indoors," was my excuse.  The truth is, it's more complicated than that--how do you pick a favorite season?

What I do have is favorite moments.  Like today, walking from the Engineering building across campus to my car.  The mountains on my left were capped with snow, but off to my right, the sun was beaming clearly down.  The air was cool and crisp, in a delicious sort of way, and every now and then, as I stepped out of the shadow of a building, the sun would hit me with its warmth.  I couldn't help but think that spring is on its way.  True, Utah weather will probably make it a frozen wasteland 24 hours from now, but it wasn't just a physical spring I was thinking of. 

Sometimes, right now feels like the coldest, wintriest, time of my life.  Not that I hate winter; after all, there's Christmas, and sledding, and that delicious moment when your car heater is warm, and the world around you is just frozen, and you know you have to get out, but it just feels so nice.  Still, though, winter can be hard.  There's ice, and snowstorms, and that long, cold walk across campus when you realize you probably should have worn thermals.  Sometimes, especially here, it seems like winter will never end.

And then there's a day like today, and I'm not really sure which I want to win; the cold air is delicious, but so is the sun.

I suppose there's a lesson in all this.  I didn't really set out to write a post about my favorite kind of weather...
Our days are filled with these beautiful moments, but usually we just don't even see them.  We're too busy complaining about the wind to remember that wonderful feeling where you feel, just for a moment, like the hero on the hilltop with the wind whipping at your cape (yeah, ok, I'm probably the only one that feels that way when it's windy).  Too often, I get so caught up in what I need to get done or the responsibility that sits on my shoulders, and forget that "men are that they might have joy" (2 Ne 2:25).  And then, I think, the Lord makes days like today, just to remind me: He cares.