Chapter 2: Age of Accountability Part 2

| Part 1: My Analogy | Part 2: My Reality |

Uninvited

“I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you. That’s how I’ll show my love for you.” – Carol Pearson
~~~~~~~~~~

My wife called me at work on November 5, 2015 and said that she had just read a social media post claiming that the LDS Church had adopted a new policy barring children of same-sex couples from church membership.

“No way!” I said, “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Absolutely!” I said, “It’s probably just been posted by somebody who wants to tear down the church by spouting off exaggerations. Besides, it would be a PR disaster – it’d set things back a hundred years!”

I was trying to get some reports out the door and didn’t have time to confirm anything online, but on my way home I kept running through memories of some of the youth we had taught and baptized as missionaries. Every situation was unique, but as long as the parents gave permission – even those whose beliefs and lifestyles differed substantially from LDS policies and practices – their children were welcome to be baptized. They couldn’t possibly…

When I got home and looked into it in more detail, I found that the commotion was based on an excerpt that had been pulled from a leaked, internal document.

“See,” I told my wife, “This didn’t even come from the church. Some anti-Mormon is just trying to ruffle feathers by pulling this out of context. I’m sure there’s more to the actual story.”

Later that night, though, I had to eat my words on all counts when LDS Church spokesman Eric Hawkins confirmed to the press that the leaked policy was accurate. The details weren’t explained, but he said further clarification was coming.

For the next 24 hours, my mind was spinning with the implications. It was clear that the LDS Church would no longer baptize children “trapped” in the targeted households – and that the parents would be excommunicated if they got married under new laws allowing same-sex unions – but what would happen to those children who were already members? Would they be excommunicated as well? Would the change be implemented on paper only – with everyone still welcome to attend meetings, just as the sign outside every LDS chapel attests? Or would those affected by this policy change be asked to leave?

I was serving as a member of an LDS bishopric at the time. My assigned responsibilities as the bishop’s executive secretary and ward clerk included recording the outcomes of disciplinary councils and updating membership records with any changes. Would I be asked to remove people from church rolls to implement this policy?

I watched Facebook explode with inflammatory opinions. Some of my friends posted their unwavering support for the Mormon prophet – thereby confirming their tacit support for the policy as well. Others spouted off their disapproval with responses that ranged from obscenities to mere disappointment that really just masked their reluctant, priesthood-ban-style support. My initial gut reaction was to go on a social media rampage and voice my opinion countering the policy as so many others were doing, but I understood the long-term consequences of a kneejerk reaction – Facebook is forever as they say – and decided to let things simmer while waiting for further clarification.

For those who immediately posted their support for the policy, I wasn’t sure they really understood what it might take to enforce this sort of mandate. As for myself, I pictured the primary wing of our meetinghouse, where laminated nametags are attached to each of the classroom doors. The name tags are decorated with images that are special to each class member. On Sunday mornings each child takes the Velcro nametag off the door and attaches it to the board inside to confirm their presence in the class. The prayers offered at the beginning and end of each Sunday school lesson usually include the hope that those whose names are still on the outside of the door might be able to attend next week.

I imagined what it would feel like to permanently remove one of the names from the door – potentially against the wishes of the child. If this policy were to be implemented in full effect, someone would have the job of taking that tag down. Would I be willing to do that? Would I willingly strike their baptism from the record if it came to that? If so, would I do it reluctantly and then rant about my conflicted thoughts on Facebook? Or would I just plain refuse?

I couldn’t imagine being part of that sort of crackdown and made the silent decision that if I was asked to remove a name from the church records, I would simply refuse to do so and leave the paperwork to someone else. And I certainly wouldn’t ask anyone to leave. Although I struggled with the decision initially – Mormons are raised to follow orders, after all – in the end it felt liberating to at least take that stance internally.

The LDS Church promised further clarification, though, so I decided to just wait for the updates before voicing my feelings on the matter. Given the overwhelmingly negative public reaction – and my own nausea at the thought of this policy being adopted – I hoped the official statement might include some sort of relaxation of the terms and conditions. I stayed in denial with this hope until Elder Christofferson’s interview was posted the next day.

I came away from the so-called “clarification” even more confused. I guess I was relieved to hear that those who had already been blessed or baptized would be allowed to retain their membership status – so I wouldn’t be asked to remove kids from church rolls – but on the flip side, he had also confirmed one of my other fears: They weren’t just saying these kids should be kept off the paper records – which most children would never actually see anyway – children were being told that they wouldn’t be welcome in primary or youth organizations at all. Their attendance was “not going to be an appropriate thing” given that their parents were guilty of a “particularly grievous” kind of sin.

I was shocked – absolutely stunned!

My eight-year old daughter was asking to be baptized herself, so the timing of this announcement sent my mind spinning with questions. If she decided to go ahead with it, I would be asked for my consent. Could I really sign that paper knowing that some kids are being excluded from membership? If my daughter had friends who might be affected by this policy, would I expect her to stand with them? Should she voice any concerns in her baptismal interview with the bishop?

Here is how an LDS baptismal interview is supposed to go:

It should be that simple…if only that were the case. The preceding, hypothetical baptismal interview with Breslen popped into my head as an alternative, analogous dialogue while I debated my own stance on the issue and wondered what I should do – and what I should encourage my daughter to do. In addition to my record-keeping assignments, I was also serving as the primary pianist at the time, and as I would run through the songs for the week, I kept getting stuck on the pages that focused on baptism, especially those that were accompanied by pastel drawings of a devout daddy baptizing his little girl – as I had always assumed it was supposed to be. After mulling it over for a few restless nights, I finally found my own answer within the lyrics to the LDS Primary song the LDS Primary song “I’ll walk with you”:

If you don’t walk as most people do,
Some people walk away from you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
If you don’t talk as most people do,
Some people talk and laugh at you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how I’ll show my love for you.
Jesus walked away from none.
He gave his love to ev’ryone.
So I will! I will!
Jesus blessed all he could see,
Then turned and said, “Come, follow me.”
And I will! I will!
I will! I will!
I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how I’ll show my love for you.

~~~~~~~~~~

My adopted grandmother in Germany – who was our landlady at the time – used to tell stories about her best friend, Steffi, who was asked one day not to return to her German school because it wasn’t the best place for a Jew to be. In the end, none of her classmates stood up for her. Sixty years later, Oma Gasteiger was still traumatized as she related her feeble attempts to compensate for her earlier silence by sneaking over to the railway lines outside her Silesian village and tossing pieces of bread up to the doomed hands reaching through the slots in the boxcars.

Remembering Steffi’s story [which, by the way, won the 2002 Oscar for best foreign film] helped me make the decision not to consent to the baptism of any of my children while this discriminatory policy is in place. Should it remain in place until they turn 18, I resolved that they could make their own decision at that point. I could take comfort in the belief that there’s nothing to fear, because as they’ve been promised, “nothing will be lost to them.” Of course, if the policy is still in place, consenting to their own baptism at that point would effectively constitute their disavowment of my own disavowment of the discrimination – but perhaps they’ll get to experience a bit of empathy through that process since the targets of this policy are expected to do the same to their own parents!

Steffi’s story conveys a message that combats intolerance based on both race and religion; these days it’s relatively easy to claim support for that message. After racial limitations were officially lifted in the LDS church in 1978, many church members claimed that they had never supported the discriminatory policies to begin with. But if they never voiced any opposition to the now disavowed practices while they were in place, their after-the-fact argument should understandably be met with reserved scepticism.

I don’t want to find myself in that same boat when my children ask me where I stood during my own life. I would expect the church policy regarding children of same-sex parents to change at some point in the future. If or when that happens, I would prefer to have already publicly expressed my opposition to it rather than having to defend my previous silence.

I originally wrote the little play about Breslen back in 2015 – with the intention of demonstrating my stance on the issue to my own kids. But when then-apostle Russell M. Nelson said that he had it direct from the prophet that the policy was the “mind and will of the Lord,” I backed off, wondering if I had misunderstood some reasoning that might come to light in the future. Or maybe I was just afraid to be labeled a heretic…whatever the case, I kept my mouth shut.

The official response was that this policy was implemented out of love – that it arose from concern about the potential conflict these children would experience between what they learn at home and what they learn at church.

“We don’t want the child to have to deal with issues that might arise where the parents feel one way and the expectations of the Church are very different.”

We’re talking about kids whose parents aren’t members. If they were members before, the implementation of this new policy ensures their excommunication. So we’re talking exclusively about children of non-Mormons. So let’s have a look at other minors who want to join the church without their parents being members. Who are these kids, and why aren’t we concerned about the discrepancy between what they learn in church and what they learn at home?

Look around the world at how many teenagers get introduced to the LDS Church because they want to learn English or play basketball with the missionaries. They are all invited to be baptized if they can get their parents’ permission. Some parents, even if they don’t believe the Mormon message themselves, give their children permission to join the church. Most of them probably hope the Mormon Church will teach their kids good values.

But if the parents themselves don’t believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet, they must believe he was a fraud, a con-man, a false prophet, a mental case, or whatever else a non-believer would classify him to be. So when these kids come to church, they will learn that Joseph Smith was a true prophet; and when they go home, they know that their parents feel otherwise.

But you know what? We trust these kids to sort it out! We trust that they’ll be ok hearing one thing at church and something different at home.

Would it make any sense to try to keep these kids away from church meetings and activities – under the guise of protecting them from these dichotomous beliefs – and then force them to wait until they turn 18 to make the decision, asking them to disavow their parents’ conviction that Joseph Smith wasn’t who he said he was before consenting to their baptism?

If anything, wouldn’t it be most prudent to stop baptizing any minors at all into the Church if their parents aren’t members – rather than singling out a particular group by trying to prioritize the “grievousness” of their parents’ sins? Even a parent’s church membership, of course, doesn’t guarantee that the lessons learned in primary and family home evening will match; so given that all minors have to face this internal conflict, why not raise the age of accountability to 18 for everybody? Can’t we just welcome the whole lot to church and leave the paperwork for later? Besides, as Elder Christofferson said in his November 2015 interview clarifying the new policy, “Nothing will be lost” to those who wait until they reach adulthood before making their own life-long decision.

Substitute in whatever obscenity or term you’re comfortable with here, but I’m calling [the bluff]. Sparing the kids the inner conflict is not the reason. There must be another underlying motive, whether it’s vindictive or political or springing from some other source that I couldn’t possibly begin to guess. From what I’ve gathered, some Mormons who silently and reluctantly support this policy feel that it is a trial of faith meant to test our trust in God’s mysterious ways – believing that the true meaning inspired by love will be revealed in the future; if that’s the case, I guess I’m just going to have to flunk this particular test.

This is not without precedent; for years I trusted that there was some reason why the LDS Church promoted racist doctrines and practices in the past. Whether in this life or in the next, I thought some reason might come to light that would excuse those who kept silent with their opposition to discrimination over all those years. But then on December 6, 2013, the church answered all of the questions in an online essay that ended the mystery. As it turns out…they were just plain wrong. By the Church’s own admission, those who had promoted racist principles over the years were simply swayed by the culture and prejudices of the day. [Except, of course, those who implemented the ban in the first place under God’s own purported direction!] I certainly wish they had gone one step further in admitting that not just the reasons for the ban, but the ban itself had nothing to do with God. But at least we have the concession that even those discriminatory things that were spoken from the pulpit as the mind and will of the Lord are now thankfully disavowed by the modern church.

I hope this time around it doesn’t take over a century, but I’m going to bank on a similar, officially sanctioned, future interpretation of the discriminatory 2015 policies – hopefully also disavowing the claims of divine direction for its implementation in the first place!

Mormons believe that a loving God can only speak to the world through a single man – in 2015 that man was Thomas S. Monson. During that year, I can’t think of any other decree issued from Salt Lake City that had the specific seal of approval as being the “mind and will of the Lord.” So of all the perils from which the creator of the universe wishes to protect his creations, of all the global fears we face, of all the warnings to be proclaimed to the world through divine intervention – the greatest threat to humanity, to morality, to the planet itself…is this? That some child who wants to attend primary with the full support of their parents needs to be excluded because God can’t stand the thought of that child being exposed to the inner conflict that arises when their primary teachers object to same-sex marriage while their parents support it? That’s THE most important thing? Of all the kids in vulnerable, abusive, horrid situations around the planet, that’s the one thing that is singled out as God’s highest priority? Seriously?

I’m sorry, I can’t. I just can’t.

Maybe it’s ironic, but I don’t think I could put it any better than the primary song that was quoted above:

“I won’t, I won’t!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Armed with the underlying mantra of those lyrics, I have felt comfortable over the years applying it in our own home with the postponement of Breslen’s baptism. Friends and family kept asking about her big day, so initially this was a bit awkward; after all, Mormon doctrine states in God’s own words that if your child is still unbaptized on their ninth birthday, the sin drops straight onto your own head as the parent. By that time, though, the threat of carrying that burden on my shoulders had lost any impact, and I felt completely justified sharing my stance in private. But the op-ed statements that I wrote for the Salt Lake papers or for social media posts – including this very write-up here – have just sat on my computer in the unsent folder year after year. Being too chickenshit to wear the scarlet “A” for Apostate that would accompany a statement that directly contrasted the “mind and will of the Lord,” I encapsulated my weak dissent into Breslen’s stalled baptism and held my tongue in public – that is, until I happened to run across a map that caught my attention.

I make maps. That’s what I do. Mapmaking essentially pays the bills in our house. In my line of work, I often have to color-code the maps to show flood hazard ratings, levee alignments, or a number of other variables. One thing that drives me crazy in my work is when I see a map without a legend, which can leave you guessing as to its meaning. Here’s an example of a map with a missing legend:

If you were on a game show with a million dollars at stake, and you had to guess at this map’s context, what would you choose? The map leaves no question as to a geographic trend, but given that the darkest coding includes Utah, every single state that borders Utah, and two other states that border states that border Utah, would you assume it has something to do with religion?

If so, your million dollars would evaporate. In reality, it’s a CDC map published by the federal health authorities. The colors show the relative U.S. suicide rates from 2009-2014. It might look suspiciously like a map of Mormonism, but it doesn’t actually have anything at all to do with religion.

Looking at this particular map, as for me, I’m unable to dismiss the seeming association between Mormonism and mental health without closer examination. Could there possibly be a link between the two? I like to avoid collective guilt by association wherever possible, so it does feel a bit relieving to consider that a map of average elevation by state might show similar color bands, potentially pointing any blame for causality elsewhere. You can, in fact, find YouTube videos by Mormon apologists claiming that there is no statistical correlation whatsoever between Mormonism and suicide, leaving geographic or environmental factors such as altitude, latitude, temperature, oxygen, air pressure, solar radiation, or other hypotheses to substitute for any religious or cultural links apparent in the statistics, not to mention the rate of gun ownership!

Everyone is of course free to reach their own conclusions on the matter, but my own armchair research indicates that if you start tracking anti-depressant usage, attempted suicides, or a number of other parameter, you can begin to build a convincing case that draws Mormon culture back into the mix, particularly if you start focusing the results based on age, sexual orientation, or other filters. Is it just coincidence that proximity to Salt Lake City begins to look like a causal factor for mental health challenges that seem to be increasing over time? Some of the more vocal mental health and suicide awareness groups have issued challenges in the press and on social media claiming that LDS policies and attitudes are linked to higher rates of depression and suicide, particularly among young LGBTIQ+ members of the church who struggle with the Church’s pervasive position on sexual orientation; I assume those at the helm of the LDS Church are aware of these claims, whether or not there is any recognition of responsibility. In any case, a great deal of effort has gone into trying to promote awareness of the problems to church leaders.

I don’t know if any LDS leader would ever have seen the 2014 map above; if so, would it have sparked some introspection about the root causes and what – if anything – to do about it? Would a glance at the map have prompted a humble prayer for further guidance and direction? Even if elevation ended up being the primary contributing factor – as the apologists insist – would some additional concern for the Church’s constituents be warranted given the mile-high contours surrounding the Mountain of the Lord?

I certainly don’t know the answer, and I do recognize that an issue as complex as suicide obviously doesn’t have a single answer. I mean look at Oklahoma, for instance. It doesn’t show up on any leader board for elevation or for Mormonism. It’s flat as a mat, and a religion practiced by one percent of a state’s population is not going to turn that entire state dark blue!

So I understand those who don’t think it’s fair to point fingers at an institution that may or may not share any culpability in the matter. But I do think it’s worth asking the question. And I do know that in 2015, the Mormon Prophet – seeking further light and knowledge of his own – claimed to have received a directive straight from God Himself which was then written into the handbook of instructions for ecclesiastical leaders. The Church spokesman then stated for the press that the new policy originated out of love – in this case the Brethren’s love for children who happened to find themselves in the homes of same-sex couples.

How might God’s mouthpiece on earth best convey his love for these children? With Christ Himself at the wheel of the vessel, what policy could the “only true and living” church on earth adopt to spread Christ’s love in these troubled times? The answer is now written into history as the November Policy that – shockingly – bars affected children from church ordinances and encourages them to stay away from primary and youth meetings as an “inappropriate place for them to be.”

I would issue the following challenge to believing Mormons, particularly to my own Facebook friends who immediately posted “I stand with the prophet” memes when the policy was issued: Do you really believe that this policy sprang from love as is claimed? To me, that claim implies that the prophet was devoutly praying, “Lord, I love these children; please let me know how we as your church body can best demonstrate our love for them.” To which he then received a revelation that was presented to his humble apostolic quorum and was then etched into the handbook as if from God’s Holy finger. Perhaps that sounds a bit satirical or exaggerated, but this particular policy came with the stated seal of approval as being literally the “mind and will of the Lord” and was supposedly issued by the same God who spoke to Moses, to a man holding the same prophetic role held by Moses himself – so why should this divine edict be treated any differently than the story of the stone tablets?

If you had to bet your own kids’ lives on the truth of the origin story for this policy, would you wager that it sprang from love as is claimed? Or might there have been a political motive – perhaps a board meeting in which someone raised fears about the losing battle against gay marriage and said, “We’ve got to make a stand here!” Could this policy have been one of the ideas that came out of a brainstorming session, after which it was debated with legal counsel and public relations teams, and was then eventually agreed as the optimal manner in which to legally and silently protect the church’s stance on gay marriage?

Having served as a clerk for many years with a responsibility for keeping church meeting records, I would bet that written meeting minutes for the introduction of this policy exist somewhere; perhaps the agenda is stored in the First Presidency’s vault, but if the secretary was doing his job, a record would have been kept. If the church was issued a subpoena and had to dig out the meeting minutes, do you think you would find the word love written anywhere in the proceedings? Or would you suspect that politics played a role here? If it was indeed a political move that was intended to take place under the table, perhaps the Church-paid consultants should be fired for underestimating the public backlash, placing overconfidence in the assumed confidentiality of the handbook, and dismissing the role of MormonLeaks and social media in disseminating the details of the policy to the world at large!

Or perhaps I’m completely off base with these insinuations and it came straight from God’s loving heart as is claimed, in which case the Saints are obliged to support it whether or not it smells fishy – just like they had to reluctantly (or in some cases whole-heartedly) defend so many years of racist policies. To me, the “love” explanation sounds awfully familiar, having heard the same argument about race-based exclusion:

“This policy originates from God’s love,” I’ve heard before, “after all, He knows that many church members aren’t ready to accept them yet, and He wouldn’t want them to feel excluded.”

“We love them so much that we wouldn’t want them to feel unwelcome in the temple.”

“Perhaps it’s not the best place for them to be right now.”

Ridiculous as those explanations sound, what alternative did pre-1978 Saints have when faced with the double-think, dissonant belief in a loving but exclusive God? My prediction is that the misplaced love claims of the November policy will someday get the same official reversal as the errant reasons for the priesthood ban. You can obviously decide in the meantime where you stand, but good luck defending a supportive stance to your kids once it is no longer supported by church leaders. In the meantime, I can’t do it. I quit!

In 2015, with suicide rates and depression rates rising among the Saints, especially among those feeling ostracized or guilt-ridden for their orientation, this was the answer? Let’s have another look at the 2014 map, this time with the legend included:

Looking at the map, the colors appear relatively benign, but each change in shade represents hundreds and hundreds of shattered families. Nobody is claiming any religion bears all or even most of the responsibility for the devastating choices depicted in the maps. At most, Mormonism is one of a number of “reasons why”. But the question comes down to whether Church leaders have done all they can to combat the tragic trend. Knowing that at least some of the feelings of isolation that led to these very real acts of desperation were fueled by real judgment and real exclusion that in some cases originated from the supposed authority of church leaders to speak on God’s behalf, I do wonder how many of these were preventable tragedies.

If you were sitting in an office at church headquarters back in 2014 – armed with an authorized mantle of some sort – and you had a look at this map, would you feel an obligation to do something to address the issue and help make a positive change? Or would your first reaction be to hire a PR firm to blame the apparent trend on environmental factors that reduce your liability and release you from any obligation to initiate changes that might help reduce the tragic loss of life?

With or without the spin doctors’ backing, if you somehow found yourself at the conference center’s pulpit the next year – right in the center of the bluest area of the map – how would you express your love and concern to those listening? What would you proclaim?

This? A policy of exclusion and discrimination? That’s the way to show love? That’s the next paragraph in your Proclamation to the World?

Now I’ve rationalized and defended a lot of screwed-up historical policies in my forty years as a conscious Mormon, always believing that the current momentum was at least steering the church toward the same general trajectory as the civil rights movement and universal principles of equality, but this huge step backwards is just too much for my own gag reflex. It is as unnecessary as it is unfounded, and in my case the reflux leaves me unable to sit silently in my seat.

“Any opposed?”

I’ve heard that phrase repeated from the pulpit a thousand times over and have never felt a compelling enough reason to disrupt a meeting with a raised hand.

In this case, however, I finally feel compelled to rise to my feet with my hand high in the air. To state my opposition for the record, I’ll shout out my own Proclamation to the World:

“I DECLARE that the November policy has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with love and EVERYTHING to do with fear.”

And just like the 1995 proclamation issued by the church, I’ll close my own family proclamation with an ALL CAPS challenge to be issued until the exclusive, discriminatory policy is revoked and disavowed:

“I CALL UPON all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to make 18 the new 8!”

~~~~~~~~~~

2020 Footnote:

The chapter above was written while the November policy was still in place. Perhaps I should have felt some measure of relief when it was rescinded in April 2019 after less than four years on the books. In reality, the only hint of relief I felt was due to the fact that I had resigned my church membership before the reversal took place. As weak as my stance might have been, at least I wouldn’t be stuck in the predicament of having to say, “Well, I never agreed with that policy in the first place” without having voiced my opposition to it at the time.

That small sliver of consolation was drowned out by a huge dose of indigestion that hit me when I read the language accompanying the policy reversal; I was left with the same sinking feeling I still have about the Church’s claims of divine direction for race-based exclusion. In like fashion, this claim provides a preposterous but perhaps internally useful illusion: “Don’t go blaming the Mormon Brethren for implementing a misguided policy to begin with here: they were simply revealing God’s eternal will! So if you’re the finger-pointing type of naysayer, you’ll have to point your finger at God Himself, whose mind and will has simply been relayed through His humble vessels.”

“No! You don’t get to do that!” I actually shouted out loud at my phone when I read the announcement, perhaps interlaced with a few obscenities. Well, of course, they get to reverse the policy. That’s absolutely within the organization’s prerogative; and after all, that’s what Love Loud and so many other voices have been pushing for all along. But what they don’t get to do – at least, I would hope, not without some form of public backlash – is to attribute both trajectories to God’s will.

You see, Mormons are taught that God can rescind his orders when the people are too wicked to handle them. The idol-worshipping revelers at the foot of Mount Sinai, for example, couldn’t handle the higher law. Because of their hard-hearted wickedness, the lesser law was chiseled into the final set of stone tablets that Moses carried down the mountain. Is that what they’re saying in the 2019 announcement that blames the reversal on reactionary “hate and contention” that surely only gentiles and apostates could have stirred up? Instead of lovingly accepting the policy, these hate-mongers caused a stink and interfered with God’s righteous will. So where did this “spirit of contention” come from in the first place? Mormon scripture includes direct quotes in which Christ Himself calls the Devil the source of contention; so who in this case has succumbed to the snares of the Evil One?

Surely not the Brethren! If contention is indeed of the Devil, the opponents of the policy must have ceded their souls to Satan by getting caught up in a contentious spirit, necessitating the reversal. In other words, God reluctantly pulled back His earlier mandate because their unprepared, unsanctified hearts needed a lower law. Not because the initial order was wrong in the first place, of course, but because the wicked party animals and fornicators just weren’t ready for it yet. Seriously? Am I nuts here for invoking the image of the Golden Calf, or is that the picture they’re painting?

When various commands issued through Joseph Smith were revoked, he made sure that God wouldn’t get the blame for flip-flopping. “Wherefore I, the Lord, command and revoke, as seemeth me good,” states the 56^th Section of the Doctrine and Covenants, but the finger is promptly pointed at the guilty culprit in the phrase that follows: “and all this to be answered upon the heads of the rebellious, saith the Lord.”

However it’s packaged, if you’re going to claim that the implementation of the policy was the will of God, then you can’t go around claiming that the reversal of the policy is likewise the will of God. If God had anything to do with it at all, either the implementation has a divine origin, or the reversal has a divine origin. Or perhaps neither. But not both! If the implementation was divine, the reversal is simply caving to public pressures. If the reversal was divine, the implementation was simply a case of mortal men being swayed by their own biases and political fears. Just like polygamy or the priesthood ban, you could try to argue that God’s hand was present at one end of the time scale or the other…or not at all. But don’t try to sell me some cockamamie story that a flip-flopping God directed both events. You’re making up the rules again. I’m not playing anymore. Game over!

| Next: Chapter 3: Disavowment |