Comparative Religion, Holy Envy, and Mazdas.

This semester I’m taking a World Religions class. I have several goals in this class—to understand people that I’ve never met, to adopt customs that will help me be more faithful in my own religion, and to learn about God by learning how other people know Him.

My first goal, and the reason I decided to take the class, came from a show I heard on NPR a couple months ago. A reporter was talking to a young man from Jordan; she asked him what he thought the most important subject for college students to take was, to which he replied, “Comparative Religion, because if we don’t understand each other how will we ever stop killing each other?” Having grown up in a multi-generational LDS (Mormon) family and having served my mission in heavily Catholic and Evangelical Chile, I don’t know very much at all about Islam or Asian religions—religions that more than half of the people on the earth profess. I hope that, having learned more about their religions and ways of thinking, I can understand them and love them just like I do Jews, Mormons, and other Christians.

My second goal came from my professor’s opening lecture. He introduced the concept of “Holy Envy,” which is when you see something in another religion that you wish your religion had. I decided to try to get Holy Envy about everything I possibly could. So far, I’ve decided to adopt:

• The Jewish Mezuzah. Jews place a little box on their door frames that reminds them to think of God whenever they go or come. I’m getting one.
• Ahisma, An Indian concept (found in Buddhism, Hinduism, and especially Jainism) of not causing hisma, or harm, to anyone or anything. I think I’ve been a proponent of ahisma for as long as I can remember, but it’s cool to put a name to the concept.
• Wu-wei, from Taoism (a Chinese religion). Wu-wei means inaction, and stems from a belief that the best way to get something to happen is to let it happen by itself without any intervention. I don’t think I’ll entirely adopt this concept, but I definitely want to become better at patiently waiting for God’s work to come forth without getting frustrated or anxious about it; also, I want to be better at letting other people change in that miraculous way that change happens, between God and them, without feeling like I have to get involved in the process.

My last goal kind of just sprang into existence one day while we were talking about Zoroastrianism, and the Zoroastrian God Ahura Mazda (Lord of Wisdom). Zoroastrians appreciate fire as a symbol of Ahura Mazda, and the car brand Mazda was also probably named after Ahura Mazda. I was thinking about how neat it is to associate fire with God, and about how I’d love to think that the Mazda 626 I drive is named after God (isn’t that cool symbolism? God moves me, and I hardly get anywhere in life except with God’s power). So I decided to just adopt both of those things—whenever I see the gentle flicker of a candle or the roar of a bonfire I’ll think about God’s love and power, and I’ll thank Him for moving me every time I get in my car.


My beautiful Mazda Ronnie in one of my proudest moments, parallel parked with 6 inches on either side.

Pagan Christmas?

This morning while running I listened to a podcast about the history of Rome. The podcast's Christmas special (yeah, I know, Christmas in August--bear with me) explained how the date we use to celebrate Christmas probably stemmed from the pagan celebration of Sol Invictus, or the unconquered sun. The celebration recognized that, after months and months of shrinking days and growing nights, the light was finally going to push back the darkness.

I've sometimes wondered about our decision to celebrate Christmas on December 25th, which really wasn't the day that Christ was born. However, I today I decided that I'm okay with it. Even if it isn't Jesus's literal birthday, the symbolism is stirring. The coming of the sun, or of the Son, will push back the darkness and save us from the bitter cold.

He is risen! He is risen!

He hath opened heaven's gate.

We are free from sin's dark prison,

Risen to a holier state.

Sources:
Mike Duncan, "The History of Rome Christmas." http://thehistoryofrome.typepad.com/the_history_of_rome/2008/11/18-a-history-of-rome-christmas.html
"He Is Risen!" LDS Hymns No. 199.

Clouds and Stars

A few days ago, I looked up at the night sky and had my breath taken away by the hundreds of stars that, even from the center of the city I live in, I could see.

Photo cred--Hubble Space Telescope

Today, the sky is so cloudy and grey that at times I can't even make out the mountains only a few miles away. Seeing stars would be completely impossible; looking up at the mass of grey, I could make myself imagine that there are no stars.

At times, I feel like I am able to look up into heaven and see God's promises for me shining as clearly as the stars. I am able to feel the peace of His assurances, and know with an eternal perspective that everything really will work out alright. Those are beautiful, sacred moments which I treasure.

At other times, as much as I strive to feel the way I do in those precious moments, all I can see is a wall of clouds a mile thick. If I let myself, I could start thinking that I had imagined those sweet assurances.

Metaphorically speaking, then, do the stars stop shining when I can't see them? When my temporal, earthly viewpoint isn't a good enough vantage to enjoy their light, are they still there?

I think the answer is yes. No amount of fog, smog, or anything else that might cover the sky could possibly dim the light of those fiery giants burning billions of miles away, unaffected by any of this world's climate changes and weather patterns.

In much the same way, no amount of worldly confusion or uncertainty could ever affect the promises God has made. The stars cannot be dimmed; their creator is even more sure.

Sister Missionaries and Dating Decisions--My Story

This article was inspired by two things. First, a great blog post about the decision for sisters to serve a mission or not that you can read here. Second, a conference talk by Elder Cook that mentions being authentic and admitting your faults online. You can read that one right here.

A while ago, shortly after getting home from my two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Chile, I was talking to my older sister about my dating life. I mentioned that I had some interest in a certain girl. We had been on several dates, and I saw potential in our relationship. However, I had one concern, which I expressed to my sister: “Maybe,” I said, “I shouldn’t date at all right now, when the only girls around are the ones who stayed behind from missions. Maybe I should wait until the wave of missionaries gets home so that I can date and marry a Returned Missionary. That way I can be sure she’s really a good girl.”

My comment was motivated by my own extreme love for my mission. My mission was invaluable to me—it changed me for the better, and still, to this day, I thank God every day for the privilege he gave me of serving.

Luckily for me, my sister wasted no time at all in slapping some sense into me. Once the physical abuse was over*, she said something I’ve never forgotten. “Jason, it doesn’t matter if a girl has served a mission or not. It matters if a girl is following God’s plan for her. That’s what you should care about.”

She then went on to point out that not only had she not served a mission, but my mother hadn’t either. As I thought about what a fantastic mother mine was, and what a great wife she was to my dad, and what a great woman she was in general, I began to understand. As I thought about the intense, deep relationship that my sister has with her Savior, about the many times her testimony and habits had strengthened and improved mine, I understood a little bit more. And as I thought about other women in my life who I looked up to, including a close cousin and a seminary teacher, to name a few, I finally got it.

God matters. Missions, in and of themselves, don’t. Missions only matter when God says they matter—He is the one who gives them power and importance. And God, speaking through his prophet, President Thomas S. Monson,has said, “We affirm that missionary work is a priesthood duty—and we encourage all young men who are worthy and who are physically able and mentally capable to respond to the call to serve. Many young women also serve, but they are not under the same mandate to serve as are the young men. We assure the young sisters of the Church, however, that they make a valuable contribution as missionaries, and we welcome their service.”

Once I accepted that not every girl I knew was under orders from God to serve a mission, I became incredibly interested in learning about individual girls’ experiences in deciding if they should go. As I listened to the stories of my friends who had stayed home, I was impressed by their maturity and spirituality. Without exception, they spoke of periods of prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance before accepting that it was not God’s will for them to go on a mission. Some of them even mentioned how disappointed they were that God didn’t want them to go, and how they begged and pleaded to be allowed to before humbly accepting God’s personal commands. I felt chastened as I considered that every time I criticized a girl for choosing not to serve a mission, I was pridefully acting like my will was more important than God’s. 

I also began to ask my friends in the mission field, and returned sister missionaries for their stories. Their stories, too, involved prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance, and culminated either in a feeling of acceptance with their decision to serve a mission or in an unmistakable feeling that God wanted them to serve. As I listened to all of these stories, my respect for women in general grew.

In the end, then, I decided I did not need to date only Returned Missionaries. Instead, I have decided that the most important characteristic of the girls I date is that they love God above all else, and are actively trying to seek out and follow His will. I will respect and admire them whether they have served a mission or not.

*Because this is the internet, I feel duty-bound to point out that this was a sarcastic statement, and the only physical abuse my sister has ever inflicted on me was feeding me so much that I felt like I might explode. 

Lift Up Your Heads

There are lots of reasons to go to church. At church you renew your covenants, regain the spirit, receive a remission of your sins, strengthen your faith, learn Gospel doctrine, associate with good people, and the list goes on.

My own, personal reason for needing to go to church every week played out once again today.

The most frustrating thing in my life is my own fallen nature. The fact that I make mistakes, have limits, and sin, just drives me crazy. Though it is crazy and unrealistic, I wish that I could just be perfect right now. I wish that I didn't ever have to relearn a lesson that I've already learned once. I wish that I didn't ever recommit a sin that I've already repented of once. I wish that those moments when I feel like, "yes, I've figured it out!" would last forever, instead of fading away and once again permitting me to exercise faith in a daily, enduring-to-the-end kind of way. 

Today was one of those days when I felt burdened by my fallen humanity. I walked into church praying for help and hope, but feeling like I might never find it, because haven't I walked into church praying for hope before? Haven't I found it, left promising that this time would be different, this time I wouldn't make the same mistakes again, and then ended up falling again?

As I sat, feeling dejected and lost, the choir stood up and started singing "What Child is This?" As I listened to the beautiful lyrics, I stopped thinking about myself and started thinking about Christ, the one whose birth we celebrate this season. I picked up my Book of Mormon and started reading through 2 Nephi, and found the following words.

"Let us remember him, and lay aside our sins, and not hang down our heads, for we are not cast off." 

The Spirit bore witness of the words as I continued reading. 

"Wherefore, I know that thou are redeemed, because of the righteousness of thy Redeemer; for thou hast beheld that in the fulness of time he cometh to bring salvation unto men.

"Wherefore, how great the importance to make these things known unto the inhabitants of the earth, that they may know that there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah."

That is the truth that I need to remind myself of every week. That it isn't my own perfection that will get me to heaven--I already sunk that ship with my very first sin, which was years and years ago. No, it isn't my own perfection that will get me to heaven--it's His. Christ, the Lord's. 

And even as I write this, I'm guessing there will be another day when I feel burdened and saddened by my fallen, sinful nature. But there will also be another sacrament meeting when God can speak to me and remind me that I was never going to be saved by my own grace anyway. 

Is It True? Thoughts on my Testimony of Jesus Christ After my Grandmother's Death

I wrote this post on Thursday, October 30th, just a few minutes after my dad called and told me my grandmother had passed away that morning.

I just received news that my grandmother passed away.

While I was surprised by the news, it wasn’t completely unexpected. Her health had been declining for the past several years, and she suffered a stroke several weeks ago that put her in the hospital for several days. Still, she was my grandma, my dad’s mom, and she was gone, and so I decided to look for a quiet place on campus where I could think and be alone.

I found the Joseph Smith memorial court, a lovely little outdoor area inside the Joseph Smith building with a statue of the prophet looking up into the air. Finding myself alone, I sat down, cried a little bit, then started thinking.

“Jason,” I said to myself, “I need to know if you really believe all this stuff. Do you really think that your grandma is still alive, in the spirit world, meeting her parents and brothers and sisters and maybe even Jesus, and that one day  you will all be resurrected and live together again? Do you really believe,” I thought as I looked at the statue, “That Joseph Smith saw God the Father and His son Jesus Christ, and that through Joseph Smith the authority to seal families together was restored by God?”

The response I gave myself was quick and solid. “Yeah, I do,” I said. “I know it’s true. I’ve asked if the Book of Mormon is true and received an answer—several times. I knelt down in this same courtyard a few months before my mission to ask if Joseph Smith was a prophet, and God said yes. I’ve felt Christ’s love, and seen His light, and as fantastical as it all may seem sometimes, I do know it’s true.”

I felt at peace. I still felt sad, but I felt at peace.

I pulled out the pocket-size copy of the Book of Mormon I always carry in my backpack and turned to Alma chapter 40. I read, “The spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.”

As I read these words I thought about my sweet grandma. I remembered conversations that we’d had recently about her young adulthood, and about how proud she was of her children and grandchildren. I remembered the famous cookies that she used to bake by the hundreds, it seemed, for every family gathering. I thought of the legacy that she has left behind, a legacy of faith and obedience to God.

Then I turned back to Alma chapter 40 and read one more passage: “The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame… And then shall the righteous shine forth in the kingdom of God.”

This morning my grandmother died, but death is not the end. Death is not an empty void; it is the turning of a page to a new part of life. I know that she is still alive, in the spirit world, and that one day I’ll get to see her again. It will be wonderfully glorious, that meeting, as we rejoice in the miracle that is life, and death, and resurrection. 

'Murica

This is another post about my time as an efy counselor. As a counselor at a camp for teenage boys, there were several critical questions that I needed to have ready answers for. Questions about going through hard times, about how to know what is true and what is not, and, of course, about who was my favorite super hero.

This third question made me stop and think. Which super hero was my favorite? Why him or her? What would differentiate my favorite super hero from all of the others, how could he or she be awesome enough to be significantly more awesome than all the other heroes' awesomeness?

Eventually, I decided on Captain America. Though he isn't as witty as Spiderman, or as roguishly cool as Iron man, I appreciate that Captain America pairs his super strength, ultimate frisbee skills, and good looks with a real, true, deep, goodness.

Captain America doesn't go about hero-ing because he wants to be rich or famous. He doesn't use methods that are shady or inappropriate to achieve worthy goals. He is a hero because he wants to help the world be a better place; he firmly sticks to his moral code, and refuses to sink to the same low levels as his enemies.

From the very beginning, Captain America focuses on doing what is right no matter what the consequences. In fact, this is what differentiates him from his competitors in the super-soldier program--the scientist in charge of the program notices that, while other soldiers were bigger and tougher, they didn't have his strong moral compass. Or, in the words of the Lord to Samuel, "Look not on his countenance, or on the height or his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appeareance, but the Lord looketh on the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7).