Saints of the Latter and Latter Days

There are worse publications to be beaten by than The Atlantic. But I do feel disappointed that McKay Coppins published first something that's been on my mind for some time: the Americanness of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints ("LDS").

McKay's article is worth reading not only because it observes (accurately, in my opinion) an intersection between LDS faith and American culture but also because he writes from an insider's perspective. He is an active member of the LDS church and writes with both sympathy and honesty. Give it a read.

Since I had the blessing of several conversations with a pair of LDS elders many years ago I have had great respect for the LDS faith. It also struck me how the combination of exceptionalism (Joseph Smith discovering the lost seed of true Christianity) and merit-based rewards (one's divine reign in the afterlife) lined up with the character of the European-American narrative: the United States as the defining lamp of democracy in the world and the belief that anyone can achieve greatness through hard work. I mean to make this observation as just that: an observation, rather than a judgment. My perspective as a Presbyterian American leads me to disagree with the LDS doctrine about the nature of God (I am solidly trinitarian) but also to admire (among other things) the discipline with which the LDS takes Jesus' directive to tell the whole world the good news.

I wrestle weekly with the reality that I carry the faith of a community founded 2,000 years ago in an ancient near-eastern culture under the thumb of the Roman empire, which context had vastly different understandings of the cosmos and the nature of humanity than I have. I try, weekly, to listen for how God speaks a consistent word of love and justice to that age, to my age, and to all ages in between. It seems strange--but very American!--that a community of faith would be called (allowed?) to hit the "reset" button in 1820 and start afresh, as if the intervening 1,797 years were a just a botched trial run of premodern western society.

I suspect that for many nations on the globe the United States seems strange for all the usual reasons but especially because it insists that all the other nations look up to it. Even if the United States, at 244 years of age, has landed upon the best way of being a nation, how could it expect its elders to follow the U.S. so quickly when they have up to 2,000 years more experience? I see a similar distinction between the LDS church and the denominations of faith that tie back to the first century AD. But since they all profess the name of Jesus Christ--our common Lord and Teacher--I don't think there's a better response than to listen, watch, and perhaps share some of the journey with them.

I always tend to think that the Truth--the concept and the being--stands somewhere in the middle. Just as I wonder where this grand project of democracy will lead, I wonder where this young branch of faith, the LDS church, will go. And in that McKay Coppins and I have something significant in common.

~ emrys

photo: mine, taken in St. George, UT, 14 Nov 2020 (waiting in line for a covid test and thus having some spare time to meditate on the LDS church represented by the pictured structure)

Legacy in a Library

As the highway miles droned by yesterday, I got to thinking about presidential libraries. Specifically, I got to thinking about our current president's legacy library.

As someone who enjoys libraries very much, my mind jumps to libraries as homes of books, quiet reading time, and learning from the billions of words penned by other people. When I think about those features of a library, it occurs to me that they do not resonate with what I know about the character of our current president. So I got to thinking: Perhaps his legacy space will not be a library.

Will he have a presidential golf course? This would seem to jive with the leisure-of-the-wealthy glitz and glam attempted by the president's personal brand. Or perhaps a presidential gun club? If he is going to persist with his persecuted-by-liberals persona, then such a venue would seem to endear him best to his commiserating base. Or, in closer parallel to the world that brought him to power, perhaps he will found a presidential media network; if he is president of that network then he can continue to be addressed a "Mr. President," lending weight (if deceptive) to his assertion that he should still be president of the United States for at least another four years. Such a network, dedicated to the alt-right cause, would allow him to continue megaphoning his opinions to the world, whipping up conspiratorial sentiment, and firing people at least weekly on camera.

After ruminating on these ideas for a bit, I had the opportunity to look up some basic facts about presidential libraries. Their central purpose, it turns out, is to serve as collections of papers, records, and memorabilia from past presidents--things that would not be easily accessible on the golf course or at a gun club.

But then: What kind of documents would stand on center stage at a presidential library for our current president? Copies of the First Step Act and the tax reform bill with his signatures on them may appear there. (Or should Congress get the historical credit for legislation?) I suspect that he doesn't write many letters or correspond in any way that would be historically notable or edifying for future generations to read. There is, however, a treasure-trove of tweets that have been screen-shot by journalists over the past four years. Will there be a digital archive of those tweets? And will the archivists footnote those tweets (and perhaps his speeches, etc.) with fact-checking? (Perhaps, in order to attract younger visitors to this presidential library, the archivists could devise a true/false trivia game based on his tweets. Prizes might include a coupon for $5 off a Mar-a-Lago membership.) Will lawsuits filed against the president during his incumbency be included? Or letters of resignation from and letters of dismissal to all of the officers that departed under duress during his administration?

The more I think about it, the more fascinating this presidential library will be, not because of its similarities to the memorabilia of past presidents but because of its stark differences in tone and medium. I have never been troubled by the thought of Americans largely forgetting the name of their forty-fifth president. But just as we ought to wonder every time we see Andrew Jackson's image on our 20-dollar bill, we ought to have a place at which we can dig deeply into the strange and disturbing events between the January 20ths of 2017 and 2021.

Even if it will not be a place where I can enjoy the scent of old writing and the expanse of erudite ideas, I may just look forward to this eventual presidential library. Retrospect on this past political season will, I expect, help me to be grateful for the present that is soon to come.

~ emrys

A Hopeful Perspective

 The covid-19 pandemic has changed so many aspects of our lives together: social, technological, medical, and spiritual. And it has brought an extra dose of death to our public consciousness. We must always lament death and allow it to drive us toward reflection on our purpose and practices in this world. But presently it seems we also suffer an extra dose of anxiety and panic.

We hear much rhetoric that the present pandemic is the "worst" in all ways. We like to use superlatives, perhaps to get each other's attention, but saying something is the "---est" introduces a logical problem: One must then compare that thing to all others that have come before. So if we are going to hear statements about the present pandemic being the "worst" or the "most lethal" or and other "---est," let's practice setting it up against another historical plague.

The bubonic plague (aka the Black Plague, the Black Death, etc) struck the world about 700 years ago. The germ theory of disease (the understanding that microscopic organisms caused disease) would not dawn on the world for another 400 years, so no one knew that a bacterium spread by fleas and rats caused the disease. Antibiotics would not be conceived or invented for another 500 years, so there was no medical (in our understanding of the term) treatment for it. A "scientific method" which would allow people to examine cases of the plague and figure out by experience the best ways to mitigate its effects, was also at least four centuries away.

The Black Death killed between 45 and 60% of the population of Europe. Read that again: between 45 and 60% of the population died of something it did not understand, didn't know how to prevent, and could not treat. The world lived and died at the mercy of the disease.

Today we face a life-threatening virus. But we have the tools of science, the understanding of viral pathology, the biochemistry of vaccine creation, and a vast array of medical technologies. Let's balance our respect for the dangers of covid-19 with reason, gratitude, and respect for the capabilities at our disposal.

We will never come to a time when we will be able to ignore death. Facing disease and death is a task not for science but for faith--if you'd like to know more about my journey in that direction, look me up. I'd love to talk. In the meantime, let's keep a hopeful perspective.

Knowing that masks slow down the transmission of microscopic viruses is a blessing. Having vaccines is a blessing. Having access to medical care that can treat respiratory infection is a blessing. Having digital communications to mitigate isolation is a blessing. These were not always so. Be thankful for them.

And continue to thank God for those who further the advancement of science and medicine: medical professionals, scientists, and the funding that makes their work possible. They are all great blessings.

Pray for those who suffer disproportionately from the pandemic: the poor, people of color in the United States, and countries with less money and less-developed scientific communities and infrastructure. Advocate for ensuring that they are given access to better treatment and vaccinations. As Christ has ensured that we have access to the fullness of God's reign after death, we are called to bring the fullness of God's power and love to this world. Part of that task is seeking to heal and reduce suffering wherever possible. The present pandemic provides an opportunity to do so again.

Let no opportunity pass by to bring hope, peace, joy and love in greater measure.

~ emrys tyler