This talk was given by my friend Richard Keys in the
Sacramento Hurley Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints late
last fall. I met Rich a few years ago—as an LGBT Mormon, he was just beginning
to come to terms with who he was and what that meant for how he fit inside the
Church. Rich is a lifelong Mormon, formerly married with children, and I’m
proud to have him walk this path with me and my LGBT Mormon fellows.
Rich showed some remarkable courage in delivering this talk
in a conservative area like Sacramento—and he’s joined many who work at the
local level to help build bridges inside the LDS community one step at a time,
beginning with this talk. In the note he sent me he also shared that he’d come
out to both his bishop and stake president a few weeks earlier.
For each of us as LGBT Mormons, I’ve long held the belief
that our purpose isn’t to struggle under the weight of some imaginary affliction
of unknown cause. Rather, our purpose is to be our authentic selves—and with
that, fulfill our mission to help our Mormon fellows shrug off labels and begin
to understand (and offer) Christlike love to all, including those who—for whatever
reason—appear to be the least of these in this sphere.
Enjoy.
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Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I was a Human
Resources Manager for a major health insurance company at a large claims center
here in Sacramento with over 200 employees.
One day I wanted to give the employees a pat on the back and have a
little fun at the same time, and I noticed April 1 was coming up, so I wrote a
memo To All Sacramento Employees, dated it April 1, and in it I announced that in
order to recognize the loyalty of our long-term employees and to work more
closely with the union, “all future building evacuation drills and actual
emergency evacuations will be done in seniority order.”
Then in the second paragraph, I went into
detail about all the advantages of this plan and how it would work—the 25-year
employee would exit first and so on until the person hired last week would be
the last to leave the burning building.
Then in the final paragraph, I wrote, “Finally, please note the date of
this memo, consider its true intent, and realize that we love and appreciate
your hard work and effort, your desire to do your very best day after day, and
your willingness to set aside your personal problems every day to help the
customers with theirs.”
Then my
secretary put a copy on every desk, but the employees were so busy that they didn’t
take the time to read the entire memo—they only read the first half of it. Then they went ballistic, swarmed over to the
shop steward’s desk, and within 10 minutes, the shop steward was in my doorway
with smoke coming out of her ears. I
looked up and said, “Holly, what’s up?” “You
know perfectly well what’s up,” and she waved the memo at me. “Did you read the memo?” “Of course I read it! Everybody’s read it!” “Did you read all of it? Sit down, it’s only one page so it won’t take
long, but read the whole thing from top to bottom.” She begrudgingly sat down and read it, got to
the final paragraph, got embarrassed, started to laugh, realized she had been
April Fooled and that it was really a love letter to the employees, and said, “I
was never here. Don’t worry, I’ll take
care of it,” and went back to her desk.
Fast forward a year, another April 1 comes along, and I send
out another memo. This one said, “Due to
the limited number of chairs and tables in the break room, we are instituting a
reservation system for the busier times of each workday, including breaks and
lunch periods.” The second paragraph
went into detail about how it would work—who’s eligible, how often, filling out
the form in triplicate, and the third paragraph was, word for word, exactly the
same as the last memo—“Finally, please note the date of this memo, consider its
true intent, and realize that we love and appreciate…,” and so forth. We put it on each desk, they were too busy
again and only read the first half, everyone descended on the shop steward—but Holly
remembered the lesson from last time, and she read the whole thing, so when
people came to her, she told them, “Just go back to your desk and read the
entire memo—I’ve got work to do!”
Two thousand years ago, the Roman philosopher Seneca
worried about information overload—even then—and asked “What’s the point of
having countless books and libraries whose titles the owner could scarcely read
through in a whole lifetime?” (Time, 9-8-14, p. 37) Today, a smartphone gives you easy access to
billions of times the information of all the libraries on earth in Seneca’s
day. You can watch what’s happening anywhere
from the other side of the world to the international space station—and watch
it all live, do a complete, thorough background check on anyone before you
decide whether to date him or not, check the arrival time of your connecting
flight while you’re still 33,000 feet up, and get the exact directions on how
to drive from anywhere to anywhere. Goggle
the word “Mormon” and you’ll get about 38,000,000 results in a fifth of a
second. In today’s hi-tech world, we’re
swamped with so much information that we can’t possibly use it all, so we keep cutting
corners and creating shortcuts trying to control the beast. Part of this process involves the use of more
and more labels for everything—and everyone.
Why take a full page or paragraph to describe someone if you can shrink
it down to a single word or phrase? Unfortunately,
that comes with a heavy price in today’s world.
For example, a member of the church runs for
President of the United States. Everyone
outside of the church says, “He’s a Mormon, huh? Well, you know what that means!”—and everyone
inside the church says, “He’s a Mormon, huh?
Well, you know what that means!”
Meanwhile, the guy doesn’t exactly fit any of those preconceived ideas
of what it means to be a Mormon. He’s
like us. None of us fits that Mormon
Mold exactly. We’re all a little bit
different, with different histories, different struggles, different priorities
and attitudes and opinions. He’s just
trying to explain his foreign policy and how the Chinese economy affects the US
and his take on the Middle East, but he can’t because every time he tries,
people keep saying, “He’s a Mormon, huh?
Well, you know what that means!” We,
as a church and as individuals, should understand more than anyone else the destructive
power and hurt and pain that labels can cause—because 175 years ago this year,
the government issued an official order for our extermination—just because of
the label “Mormon.”
Today, there seems to be a label for
everyone: Democrat, illegal alien,
redneck, bleeding heart, Arab, Republican, Black, Jew, tree hugger, homeless, loser,
activist, gay, nigger, faggot, retard, conservative, queer, liberal—and on and
on. Some of these may seem pretty tame
while others may cut to the bone, but all of us have our own idea of what each
of these labels means, and none of them means exactly the same to all of
us. There’s only one label I can think
of that applies to every person on the earth, from Mother Theresa to the guy
who cut me off in traffic yesterday: I
am a child of God, and so are you, and so is everyone else, and all of us, even
the guy who cut me off yesterday, sustained our Father’s plan before coming to
earth. President Monson has stated “we
are ALL spirit children of our Heavenly Father and, as such, are brothers and
sisters. As we keep this truth in mind,
loving ALL of God’s children will become easier.” (Ensign, May 2014, p. 91,
caps added)
Most of us are familiar
with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, but the reason for their destruction is
not the label we often attach to it. In Ezekiel
(16:49-50), the Lord states, “Behold, this was the iniquity of the sister
Sodom: Pride, fullness of bread, and abundance of idleness was in her and in
her daughters, neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy. And
they were haughty and committed abomination before me: therefore I took them
away as I saw good.” Also in Ezekiel
(34:16), the Lord speaks of his sheep in the last days and says: “I will seek that which was lost, and bring
again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken….”
So let’s change the story of Sodom and Gomorrah slightly
to “liken the scriptures” a little more closely to our day. The Lord tells Abraham He’s going to destroy
Sodom and Gomorrah because of their pride, idleness, haughtiness, not helping
the poor and needy, and so forth.
Abraham asks, “If I can find 50 righteous people there, will you spare
the cities?” The Lord says, “Yeah, I’ll
do that.” “How about 45? If I can find 45 righteous people, will you
spare the cities?” The Lord says, “Sure,
I’ll go with 45.” “Well, how about
40? “Okay.” “If you’ll do it for 40, how
about 30?” “Fine.” “20?”
“Okay.” He bargains the Lord down to 10 people. “If I can find just 10 righteous people, will
you spare the cities?” The Lord says,
“My grace is sufficient. If you can find
10 righteous people, I’ll spare the cities.”
He doesn’t ask for perfect people, or even people as righteous as
Abraham, just 10 people who meet the minimum standard of righteousness from a
loving, merciful God—and lo and behold, Abraham finds 10 people. Now, none of them is exactly like Abraham—One
smokes, another drinks, one has some tattoos and a few body piercings, another
has a different sexual orientation, still another is from an enemy tribe, but
they’re all good, honorable people, and they all meet the minimum requirements
set by the Lord for Him to call them righteous…and the Lord spares Sodom and
Gomorrah.
Now, here’s the question: Do you think Abraham could love those ten
people in the middle of Sodom and Gomorrah, those people who are so different
from him, but whom the Lord still spared?
And in today’s world, could we love them—not just tolerate them, not
just keep our judgments about them to ourselves, but really think and show a
genuine Christlike love towards those people who are so different from us?
We have more scriptures than any other church on
the face of the earth, but nowhere does it say, “A new commandment I give unto
you, that ye tolerate one another. As I
have tolerated you, so shall ye tolerate one another.” Christlike love is not about tolerance,
because tolerating someone is just a polite way of saying, “I put up with
you.” It’s not talking about someone
behind their back but keeping it from them.
It’s not giving them a pat on the back and then washing your hands
afterwards, and it’s not even separating the sin from the sinner, because
“sinner” is just another destructive label.
In a fireside here in Sacramento, Elder Hartman Rector once said, “Don’t
judge others. We don’t know where they
aimed. We only know where they hit, and
people don’t usually hit where they aim.” (Hartman Rector, Fireside, 11-8-09,
Sacramento, CA) This kind of judging is
not in our job description. We leave
that to the Lord, who knows where we aim, who knows what’s in our hearts, and
who looks for reasons to save us, instead of condemning us. The Lord asks us to get past all of this and
to work on Christlike love for each other, because He knows how it will help
ourselves and our fellow man, and He knows how anything less will make our
journey here so much more difficult. As
one man put it, “Every human being needs someone to love them, whether they’re
going to hell or not.”—David Samsel, “Utah, Mormons, and Gay Marriage,” medium.com/@dssnyc
The color of a person’s skin should not determine where he
sits on the bus—neither should his politics, religion, worthiness, social or economic
status, sexual orientation, IQ, or any other way they may be different. For example, Elder Quinton L. Cook of the
Quorum of the Twelve stated, Quote: “As a church, nobody should be more loving
and compassionate. Let us be at the
forefront in terms of expressing love, compassion, and outreach. Let’s not have families exclude or be
disrespectful of those who choose a different lifestyle as a result of their
feelings about their own gender,” Unquote (www.mormonsandgays.org), and the same
counsel applies for any other differences.
Time to summarize with three short stories, all of them true:
Story #1: “It’s a forward operating base near Tal Afar,
Iraq, November 2003. Nobody’s in a good
mood. A patrol was ambushed the night
before. A popular staff sergeant lost
his leg to an RPG and may die.
“The next night, the battalion
commander leads a raid against a suspected insurgent leader. His soldiers swarm the house before daybreak. Doors are kicked in. The family is roused. The soldiers force the head of the house to
his stomach on the concrete. One man
puts a boot between his shoulder blades, another ties his wrists behind his
back. They point a machine gun at his
chest. His wife and children huddle
under the blankets while the house is searched.
“Bad intel. Nothing found. A knife slices the cuffs, releasing the man
as the sun begins to rise that morning.
This is the holy month of Ramadan, and neither the head of the house nor
his entire family will eat or drink anything until sundown.
“Apologies are made, and the
soldiers load up to head back to the base.
Then the man who moments before had been held at gunpoint approaches the
commander. He places his hand on his own
heart and asks the officer to bring his men back to his home so his family may
prepare them breakfast before they go.” (Kevin Sites, “You’re Heartened by
Humanity,” Men’s Health, May 2013, p. 151)
Story #2: Hannah Smith, a 14-year-old teenager, turned
to a popular social network site in July 2013 because she wanted some reassurance. Like any typical teenager, she was stressed
out from studying for exams, and she was worried about the return of a skin
condition called eczema that made her feel ugly, so she opened up about her
feelings on the site, which allows users to pose questions that others can
respond to, all anonymously. The
responses came quickly. One told Hannah
to cut herself. Another urged her to drink
bleach. One even said, “Do us all a
favor n kill ur self”—and a month later, she did just that. But what detectives found was even more tragic: Hannah had sent the hateful messages to
herself, hoping her friends would rally to her defense—and when no one did, she
figured that everyone else agreed with the comments, and she took her own
life. (“Growing Up Digital,” Deseret
News National Edition, 6-8-14, p. 3)
Story #3 from the 6th chapter of 2
Kings (6:8-23): The Syrians are at war
with the Israelites and losing so many battles that the King calls his servants
together and says, “So, who’s the traitor?
Who’s leaking our plans to the enemy?”
They assure him they’re not, but
there’s a prophet named Elisha over in Israel who’s telling their King about
our plans. The Syrian King sends an army
to capture Elisha and bring him back.
Meanwhile, at the Israelite camp the next morning, the
servant of Elisha wakes up, walks outside his tent to stretch his legs and get
some fresh air, and he discovers they’re surrounded by the Syrian soldiers. He begins to panic, but “Elisha prayed, and
said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young
man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of
fire round about Elisha.” (v. 17)
That was the spiritual thought a missionary
shared at dinner many years ago, but it wasn’t until years later that I read “the
rest of the memo,” that I read what came next that made it my favorite scripture
of all, because instead of Elisha attacking the Syrian army, he prays for the
Syrian army to be made blind, and then he greets the Syrian general, offers to
help, and explains that they’ve accidentally come to the wrong city, but he’s
willing to guide them the rest of the way.
He then leads them to the Israelite King, where the Israelite army is
waiting for them. Their eyes are then
opened, and they realize they’ve walked into a trap. The King wants to beat them, punish them, and
torture them, but Elisha says, no, don’t beat them, but give them food and
water because they’ve had a long trip and they’re tired and need their nourishment,
and after they’ve had plenty of time to rest and get their strength back, give
them even more food and water as provisions, and then set them free to go
back. You can imagine what the King
thought of this. This is not the typical
way an army treats its POW’s during war time, but Elisha’s been right up to
this point, so they do as he says. The Syrian soldiers return to their King,
tell him what happened—and the Syrian King is so moved…that “the bands of Syria
came no more into the land of Israel.”
It’s easy to love people who are just like us
and that we’re comfortable with. That’s
not the test. The Lord asks us to cast
our nets further, to love those who aren’t like us and that we’re uncomfortable
with. In that spirit, I pray that we’ll
all work to build bridges instead of walls with our fellow man, to love them
more and fear them less, to throw off the labels and get to know them on a
first-name basis, to have the empathy to really see and appreciate things from
their point of view, to go beyond mere tolerance to a Christlike love; and to
have the faith that we won’t lose our birthright by loving these people; that our
testimonies will be strengthened, not weakened, by doing this; and that we’ll all come closer to being a Zion people for
it.
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
