Blake Ostler on Spiritual Experiences

Blake Ostler's presentation at the Sunstone Symposium went a lot different than I thought it would. I didn't expect Blake to be as understandable, down-to-earth, and personal as he was. Blake spoke about LDS testimony and spiritual experiences--and he wasn't dry at all. In fact, near the beginning of his talk, he told of an experience he had when he was age 15. Sitting in the high school gym, a girl he didn't know well sat next to him, and he was prompted to tell her that God wanted her to stop thinking about suicide. This turned out to be an important message, since she was already planning the act. Blake argued that spiritual experiences are real. (Well, he actually says, "attacks claiming that such experiences are not trustworthy because they are merely ephemeral emotions are based on a caricature and unjustified reduction." It is Blake, after all.) Blake testified that it is not irrational for us to believe and trust our spiritual feelings. He also preached a "radical inclusivism," where we are called to be open to the spiritual experiences of others, including evangelicals. He cautioned that we should recognize that our experience does not mean that we know anything, that we should not feel morally superior because of it, and that we should remain open to doubt. He explored the idea that spiritual experience cannot be produced at will. He concluded that religious experience has no meaning without a life lived in pursuit of this knowledge.

Blake's presentation seemed to generate a great deal of controversy among the audience. The respondent, Bill Heersink from Salt Lake Theological Seminary, praised Blake for his "holistic view of humans that doesn't try to divorce the mind and soul," but nevertheless disagreed with his definition of spiritual experience. Several of the questions at the end likewise asked for further clarification. One young man in particular questioned Blake's view of spiritual experience. The young man told of an experience of his own in the MTC. He prayed to know his status regarding a girlfriend and was given a strong confirmation that he would marry the girl. When she later "Dear Johnned" him, it was devastating.

I was quite surprised to hear Blake respond that the young man's experience was not a valid one, since it had later been proved to be false. I thought Blake's answer went against his explanation of "radical inclusivism" earlier in his talk. Blake saw his own experience in high school to be valid since the girl was actually thinking of suicide, but the young man's experience was different since he did not end up marrying his girlfriend.

I believe this is a problematic way of looking at spiritual experience. Encounters with the Divine tend to be nebulous and not easily interpreted. I would be much more willing to see the young missionary's experience as a real manifestation of the Holy Spirit, sent for comfort and aid at a difficult time. Perhaps the interpretation was in error, but the experience was undeniable.

I appreciated and agreed with the points in Blake's presentation. I found it comforting to hear such an erudite and intellectual assertion that we can "know with a surety" the reality of the Spirit in our lives. However, I was quite put off by the application of his own principles in his response to the young returned missionary. I would like to see a greater acceptance of spiritual experience within and among religions.

Especially for U, Snarky--Sunstone Slideshow

Snarker, be Damned: Another Sunstone Testimony

I finally have internet access again (!)and Snarker be damned, I am going to post my little heart out about how wonderful and spiritual it was. I believe that the types of talks and panels at Sunstone have the power to touch the questioning and questing among us in a way that speaks to our souls.

On Thursday, the Mormon Women's Forum presented a panel titled "Image and Reality: The Many Faces of Mormon Women. Janice Allred led the panel and explained that the concept of face invites us to consider several contrasting pairs that define face: appearance vs. reality, public vs. private, open vs. hidden, engaged vs. withdrawn, present vs. past, and ideal vs. real. Each of the panelists addressed how Mormon women negotiate the tension between the ideal and the reality of their own lives. Since I was one of the panelists, I'll post my remarks here for your edification!

Virginia Woolf wrote: "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." I identify with this statement because I realize that in order to accomplish great things, one must have the means and the space. I sometimes wonder if, within Mormonism, a woman can find "a room of her own." From the time a Latter-day Saint girl or boy is very young, words of testimony are whispered in their ears. They memorize all 12 Articles of Faith and are taught songs of faith and assurance. The Young Women stand each week and recite a motto describing the ideal girl. An active teenage girl who attends Church services, Mutual, and Seminary goes to Church 10 or more hours a week. She is interviewed by her Bishop twice a year to assess her worthiness. Often, this young woman will marry at a fairly young age and begin Church and family responsibilities before she has ever really lived on her own.

These can all be wonderful influences. They tend to produce women who have lived clean, decent lives; who have not mired themselves in addictions. These women are trained and prepared to keep clean and organized homes and to raise upstanding families. Are they missing anything from never having had a room of their own?

I think our strength as a culture is that we tend to develop the public face of our people superbly. As a young wife, I had learned how to present that face to the ward and to the world. I was well-spoken, well-groomed, energetic. I had the skills to run a Parent-Teacher Organization or to speak in public. This picture shows 6 of my eventually 8 children. As you can see, I sewed matching dresses for these girls. I did it three times a year: Christmas, Easter, and Pioneer Day.

But the public appearance was very different from the private reality.

At times I found friends I could share the tough realities of my life with. But in my experience, the Mormon world was not conducive to such confidences. As a Latter-day Saint, I felt compelled to put on a good face for the world. To my non-member friends and neighbors, I felt that I needed to show them how happy being a member of the Church made me. I couldn’t reveal any marital problems, for that would put a bad light on our “eternal family” rhetoric. I didn’t feel free to complain about the pressures of having 8 children, because it might invalidate my reasons for having such a huge family. Among the other LDS women, I felt some competition and equal pressure to maintain the image of perfection. Especially when I was a young mother, I didn’t realize that other Mormon women might also be struggling.

Putting forth a good face is also an inherited trait in my family. To illustrate this, I’d like to share a story my mother wrote in her family history. She tells of going to see a Broadway musical review with her sisters. Since they knew someone in the production, they were invited to go backstage. They left their seats during the final number and were ushered back behind the curtains to watch the chorus line finale. They saw the dancers with big, bright smiles upon their faces while they faced the audience. But when they turned their backs on the crowd, the girls’ faces would relax into a frown or a scowl of concentration. By the time they turned back around, they had their smiles pasted back on. My mother compared this chorus line to her family. She said that in public, they always had to have their smiles on.

I wrote a poem (some of my blog readers will remember this!) which expresses the liminality I have felt as I have attempted to please my family, my Church, and especially my husband without being able to fully celebrate the nontraditional parts of myself. It’s called, “I Put on Black.”

I put on black,
My head I bow.
You like me now.
You like me now.

I put away my chartreuse scarf,
And colored things I used to wear.
My second piercings now are bare,
I gel down my unruly hair.

I do not have a lot to say.
My makeup now is quite subdued.
I seem to cook a lot of food,
I don’t go swimming in the nude.

I nod and murmur when I should,
I shut my mouth, my thoughts I still,
My questions and my quirks I kill--
My secret longings none can fill.

The ward is suddenly so kind.
I’m not as different now, you see!
A call has been extended me
To teach Relief Society.

Sedately I walk down the aisle,
The Bishop’s wife sits by my side,
She nods at me; you smile with pride,
I feel a tearing deep inside.

I clean the toilets and the hall,
Read stories to my sweet sunbeams.
We never argue now, it seems.
I wonder where I put my dreams.

Your temple marriage now is safe,
You hold my hand that wears the ring.
I never dance, I never sing,
You would not notice such a thing.

I’m all in black,
I’ve kept my vow,
You like me now,
You like me now.

But this is what
You do not see:
I don’t like me,
I don’t like me.

When my family moved to the small, provincial town of Vernal, Utah two years ago, I discovered blogging. I felt I had found “A room of my own,” where I could present my innermost thoughts and feelings, ideas I’ve long held, but didn’t always align with the perfect Mormon woman. On my blog, I call myself “Bored in Vernal,” a feminist, pacifist, disgruntled, yet fully active Latter-day Saint. I’ve found the cyberworld to be a place where I can explore the real me among those with a Mormon background. I’ve found that I can’t leave the Church behind. It is a deep and inextricable part of me. Yet there are some policies, procedures and doctrines that, in order to be authentic, I must take exception to. Even at the ripe old age of 47, I’m still trying to find myself. Right now, it’s almost like I live a double life. I find myself saying things at Church, then saying the polar opposite on my blog. Which do I really believe? At the time I say these things, I feel I am representing myself accurately. I’m so confused. What are my true feelings? Who am I?

One of the objectives of this panel was to explore how Mormon women negotiate the tension between the roles and expectations of Mormon culture and the reality of their own lives. I pondered this as I read a recent novel entitled “Snow Flower and the Secret Fan.” The book is about nineteenth-century China and a group of women in Jiangyong, a far flung area in the rural countryside. These traditional Chinese females experienced the binding of the feet at age 7, early marriage, and a secluded life thereafter. While embracing the expectations of their culture, the women of this community developed practices which enabled them to survive. To meet their needs for community, the women contracted with other females—either “sworn sisters” or “old sames.” The novel is based on factual evidence that these women developed a secret system of writing by which they could communicate. It was called “nu shu,” and was kept secret for over a thousand years.

I believe that women such as myself who find tension between traditional Mormon roles and their own personal paradigms must find some way to relieve the strain. What practices will they develop which will enable them to survive and flourish? Will it be online communities such as blogging, or email groups? As wards become more accepting of diversity, will they find kindred spirits within the ward with whom they can commiserate? Or will these women find fulfillment in jobs outside the home, retaining their cultural roles only while at home and at Church?

Through the Proclamation on the Family, the Church has shown its commitment to traditional roles for women. Within our illustrious history, though, there have been some few opportunities for women, even within this type of culture, to find “a room of their own.” I’m thinking of women such as Ellis Shipp, who was sent back East by Brigham Young to obtain a medical degree. She practiced and taught medicine in Utah while bearing ten children. Women like Minerva Teichert, who went to Chicago to take art lessons as a “set apart” missionary of the LDS church. She married, raised a family, cooked and helped with the ranch while painting prolifically throughout her life. I’m thinking of Relief Society sisters who collected grain for humanitarian service, wrote their own manuals, maintained their own budgets and buildings. I urge that we continue to draw upon these, and many other examples of women who embraced their cultural roles within Mormonism yet broadened the definition of womanhood to find a room of their own from which to reach out and touch the world.

Stay tuned! I'll be posting much more of my experiences from Sunstone.

Greetings from the Sunstone Symposium!

A big Bronx cheer to those who believe "Symposia" are evil. I just felt the Spirit stronger than I have in the past year. This year's event is off to a great start.

I just attended this evening's presentation by Helen Whitney, creator of the PBS special "The Mormons." She told the story of the making of the film with some behind-the-scenes stories and commentaries. "Why did I choose to examine these quirky, strange, and scary Mormons?" she asked. She explains that she feels an affinity to the spiritual and is fascinated with radical religious commitment. Mormonism is not just a Sunday religion, as we all know. It is all-encompassing. Helen began her three-year process of preparing this documentary with a bit of knowledge about the Mormons: "I knew they were smart, funny, they weren't polygamists, and they lived in other places outside of Utah," she explains. At the end of the odyssey, she says that she can't imagine tending to family, career, and belonging to such a faith--"my head just hurts."

I was extremely impressed by all the work that went into making this documentary. Whitney has crafted her new-found knowledge and thousands of hours of interviews into an art form. It was fascinating to listen to her explain how and why she chose the music, the art work, and the interviews that would be included. She explained that access is always a problem for a documentary film maker. She would not have been able to make the film without gaining the trust of the LDS Church. Why was the Church so open to a film it would not have any control over? Helen postulates that the Church has a reputation for being very closed. Michael Purdy, the Church representative with whom she worked on this project, wanted to change this perception.

I especially liked Whitney's discussion of gathering the interviews. She wanted to get her subjects to strip away the religious jargon. She was concerned that the speakers would be too boring. She said that dissidents were the most interesting. Historians seemed too attatched to one little piece of the picture and the faithful were unable to move past their trite jargon. I thought in view of this situation that her final result was remarkably balanced.

Whitney's "surprise" interviews included Betty Stevenson (inner-city convert), and Marlin Jensen. The higher up you go, she noted, you must abandon all hope of fresh, unrehearsed answers. Not so with Jensen. He was authentic and interesting. "The Church would be well-advised to use him as the public face of Mormonism," she quipped. On the other hand, she was disappointed with Boyd K. Packer's interview, blaming herself as much as him. She saw him as having made some strong statements in the past, and she wanted him to expand upon what he had written. Instead, she felt that he did not own what he had said.

What touched me about Whitney's presentation was her excitement about Joseph Smith as a powerful and complex leader. She cautioned Mormons not to strip him of his boldness and ruthlessness. She labeled Joseph "postmodern" and described him as "experimenting with his many selves." She said that we should judge his narrative by its power to change lives and people's willingness to believe it. Whitney challenged Mormons to see Joseph as a fascinating prophet-puzzle. She urges us to own our beliefs and be less defensive.

After the presentation, I felt inspired by the admiration of a non-member who sincerely investigated Mormonism and found it a passionate, intriguing religion. The session was opened and concluded with hymn singing directed by Ardean Watts. How I wish every chorister in the Church could take lessons from Ardean! He conducted with a flair, almost dancing in his excitement, and all eyes were upon him. We sang with gusto.

Kevin Barney has an open thread on the Symposium at BCC--check it out for more observations on the event.