Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother's Day - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints - Riverton 6th Ward - Riverton, Utah - May 8th 2011

       Today was my return to the Mormon Church. It was strange being there again. I arrived late so I missed the sacrament in which there is blessing upon the bread and grape juice before it passed around by young men who have received the priesthood.

     I remember when I was little wonder bread was used. The meeting was an hour and half my told my Dad told me when I was that age...so as a little elementary schooler I would usually use the time to sleep after I couldn't sit up any longer. Though I still remembered things I experienced today and are an essential part of the faith.

    For example when I arrived a young elder was talking about his Mother. Mother's Day was the theme with the Heavenly Mother being mentioned a few times as well. It was powerful seeing the men break down and cry as they recounted the memories of their Mom and a poem was read that would have fit into any conservative christian tradition.

   Another young man recounted an essay he had to write in philosophy on why cheating is bad...he had issue with the response he got back from his professor when his professor told him Church doctrine, because it is, and because my Mom said it is were bad answers.

   Each of the younger, in their 20's boys ended by bearing their testimony. "I'd like to bear my testimony, I know the Church is true, I love my family and Joseph Smith was a true prophet." Testimony seems to me an essential part of any religion. I remembered bearing my own testimony years ago. Those were the lines I learned to speak when I was little and in elementary school. "I love my family and friends." are the parts of my testimony I believe in today...the rest has fallen away with leaving of the faith and my quest for knowledge and understanding.

       Eventually an older man gave the last speech. In it he mentioned a story in which a boy (might have been his) kept telling he was telling the picture book story wrong and that Mom used the terms he was mentioning. He retorted and "Who has the final authority in the house?"
   "You do."
"Why do you know that?"
"Mom told me."
      This is a part of conservative religious tradition that has always made me uncomfortable because of what it does to women or even men who question authority. Authority is the final answer since a person's authority comes from God. This justifies traditional gender roles and with it, it's hard to fight abuse. Especially if the one higher up is the one abusing. There's no other areas of authority or over-site to the authority besides higher ups who are profiting from the status quo and power structures. As I mentioned before this was a major reason for rejecting the Church and any religious tradition that has women submit to men. I felt sick under my skin hearing that, especially when women laughed...

     Every healthy relationship built on love I know is built on communication, trust, and consent. If a women consents and likes this model, I have less of a problem because of their is consent...but when a women is born into the Church and questions and locks horns with authority over it...that's where I have problem for that is where the authority of God is used to oppress in any conservative religious environment. The women is not playing her "role" therefore she is in the "wrong."

    There was a song a women in charge of the music played which brought me back to singing during Sunday school. The day ended with a prayer from a white haired man and in the act of the prayer I found the peace that I believe all religions strive to achieve.

    A prayer is something anyone can do, like meditation. It centers the mind and reminds us we're alive and how lucky we are to be where we are. This was the good in the service. In it there was reverence in mine and everyone's actions as our heads were bowed. Like praying in a mosque, or meditating in the silence it's here where we can find ourselves and how connected we are to one another.



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