Julie M. Smith, writing at Times and Seasons, is right when
she says, in regards to women having the priesthood (or not) that “equal does
not mean the same. But it does mean
something.”
She is right to propose that the young women in the LDS
Church ought to have more visible responsibility, equal to that of the young
men, who get to prepare the sacrament, bless the sacrament, pass the sacrament,
act as ushers at the chapel door and reap the recognition that comes weekly as
bishopric members everywhere regale the congregation with the immortal line
“we’d like to thank the young men for administering the sacrament.”
I’m all for her proposals. Were I a bishopric member, I’d be
all for what she’d like to see the young women do. I’d even aid the fight in
penetrating the bureaucracy that is not LDS Church headquarters but the
iron-clad tradition of ward choirsters and organists.
Why? Because I have a young woman myself who is itching at
the chance to participate more in church, and since she turned twelve just a
few months ago has already taught a Beehive lesson, worked on quilts for a
service auction, and volunteered in the nursery during Primary inservice. And,
thanks to her mother who is breaking the mold with service in the Boy Scouts of
America, has been to more weeks of Scout camp than most of the Boy Scouts I
know.
But I have to wonder if Julie M. Smith is looking at the
young men with rose-colored glasses.
Not wonder, I know.
I know because I was once a young man in the LDS Church
myself. And my current calling has me working with the young men every Sunday
and every Tuesday.
So as long as we agree that equal has to mean something, let
me suggest the following results in that equality:
Recognition, in
the form of “Wow. We have a crop of really short deacons. Except for that tall
one with the messy hair and high-water pants who we’re never really sure washes
his hands before he passes the sacrament, because he sure smells funny,” and
“Why did the bishop make that priest say the Sacrament prayer three times? I
couldn’t hear anything wrong with the other two times. That bishop is a real micromanager,”
or “That priest is a moron who can’t get anything right. Even I know how to
pronounce the word ‘O’.” Not forgetting that the “we’d like to thank the young
men for administering the sacrament” is just the kind of ritual Sunday
ornamentation that rolls off the tongue as easily as “I’d like to bear my
testimony,” “all in favor show by the raising of the right hand” and those damn
doilies y’all cling to in Relief Society. Pretty, fitting, innocuous, but tell
me you sincerely remember a spiritual goose the last time you heard such thanks
or saw such a doily at church.
Purpose, in that
the young men slag off on coming to church early (or staying late) for fast
offering collection, “forget” they’ve got that duty, tell Mom and Dad they’re
going to Scouts but instead run off, insist on playing basketball every
freakin’ Tuesday when they do go to Scouts, slump over like department store
mannequins as they “usher” at the chapel doors, and fight like devils when it’s
“their turn” for the “extra blessings” that come when it’s time to pass
sacrament at the old folks home, go home teaching (my memories of home teaching
at the tender age of fourteen revolve around faithfully visiting two families
where at Home A my partner and the man of the house would talk about hunting
for two hours followed up with an additional two-hour conversation about HVAC
systems with the man of the house at House B; my duties were limited to saying
the closing prayer at the end of each visit, after they woke me up), or have to
do anything at the Sacrament table other than be the warm body who sits in the
middle and doesn’t have to do a damn thing. (I think the files all of this
under the rubric of the young men “working out the logistics of passing the
sacrament in their quorums.”)
Motivation, in
that despite sins that beckon them and entrap them and beguile them every other
day of the week, they will still risk the hellfire and damnation of their
parents to officiate in the sacrament because it’s what’s expected at their
given age. And nobody wants to say no to priesthood duty and have to confess
something in front of the bishop, probably right there in the chapel because
mom and dad insist they participate, do they? (Trust me, I have experience with
this firsthand.)
Spirituality, in
(see Purpose above). Oh, and one of the quorum leaders or the bishop or a
counselor or one of those creepy visitors form the stake might cry during a “spiritual”
portion of the lesson, but they’re just some fat old guys who joke about having
to get out of the tent in the freezing cold on Scout campouts five times to go
to the bathroom, so the boys know they’ve got no control over their faculties
anyway. That’s if they can hear the lesson above the noise created by the ADHD
kid who will chatter with whomever you sit him next to, even if that someone is
one of the creepy guys from the stake. And the noise created by that one kid
who always brings LEGO minifigures to church to stage epic battles during the
lesson and always has more minifigures in his pockets, no matter how many you
take away from him and it’s not seemly of a Melchezidek Priesthood holder to
frisk and otherwise pat down his charges, but you’d certainly like to try. And if
they can penetrate the tablets and smart phones the young men bring to church
“because they have their scriptures on them,” even though they can’t locate
books in the Book of Mormon let alone the likes of Obadiah or Habakkuk, except
for the know-it-all who read the lesson at home and has to answer every.
Single. Stinking. Question.
Growth, in that,
we hope, they will learn something from the experience (Julie M. Smith gets
this part right). And hopefully confess to a myriad of sins before they get to the MTC, unless we
can pass of their untimely return as some sort of persistent yet undiagnosed
illness and get them out the door, huh, look at that, a year later.
Am I exaggerating in my examples?
No. I’ve seen it all, and I’m not even a high priest yet.
I’m a priesthood holder who revels at the chance to use young men/scouting
obligations to skip Sunday School not because I’m like the young men and
uneducated in the sheer seriousness of priesthood responsibility (we get
Section 76 read to us at an alarming rate) but because I, like the young men, am
a human being, prone to the frailties of living in this world despite having
authority given me of God and the recognition that comes with it, whether it’s
sincerely offered or offered by rote.
Since we’re talking about equality meaning something, let me
tell you something about meaning. Having the priesthood doesn’t give me or our
young men an instant “in” with all things spiritual. Maybe as we grow we come
to realize that priesthood responsibility and the recognition that comes with
it does lead to greater spiritual growth, but it’s the rare Aaronic priesthood
holder who will tell you, in the moment, that very thing. We grow, bit by bit,
jot by tittle, just the same as the young women and members of the Relief
Society do. And can I tell you I’ve seen more spiritual growth in my young
woman of twelve than I’ve seen in my young man of fourteen? I love them both. I
pray nightly for the challenges they face. Yet it’s my son I worry about the
most, despite his holding the Aaronic Priesthood and the honors and benefits
that come with it. Both are equally challenged by the world, by inequalities
inside and outside the church.
Yes, equality does mean something. Just don’t get me started
on Eagle Scouts.
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