Charity for the Divine and the Democratic

Presidential candidates have (to seem) to be normal.  There's the famous test of ordinariness that's encapsulated in the question "Do you want to have a beer with..." this person?  (One more reason Romney couldn't be President...*zing*).  In a way, this is a uniquely American idea.  The theory presumes that a ruler is subject to the people, and is one of them.  He (or she...someday!) is a citizen.  In contrast, the Divine Right of Kings to rule emanates from the Gods, and in some cultures, the emperor or king is a descendant of the Gods.

Similar to democratic thought, the prophet of the Mormon church has always been considered an ordinary church member.  Mormons have a "lay priesthood" which means that ordinary church members lead services, administer the church, and run things on a day to day basis.  There aren't professional Mormon priests (although some people do work full time for the church and are paid to do so).

Yet, even though we think Presidents and Prophets as men of the people, we rarely get to meet with them.  We "know" them only through the carefully filtered glimpses we see in the media or in second- or third- hand reports.  I remember when I visited General Conference (the twice-yearly Mormon conference where the Mormon prophet speaks to all Mormons via satellite).  I stood in the Salt Lake City Tabernacle as an 8 year old, firmly convinced that if I could shake the hand of one of the Apostles, I would know the church is true.  It's childish, but I think it's a manifestation of a genuine desire to KNOW our leaders.

That's why both of these recent moments resonated:

President Obama's Fist Bump after the State of the Union

Elder David Bednar and Elder L. Tom Perry (two Mormon Apostles) Fist Bump after General Conference

It's just a simple gesture.  But it signifies that these men are JUST. LIKE. US.  They're human, not divine.  We can relate to them and somehow, we are more willing to listen to what they have to say.  

One of my favorite definitions of the word "charity" is that "Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another’s weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other."*  I LOVE that - "Charity is expecting the best in each other"!  That's a very divinely democratic idea - hopefully charity can extend to those we believe are divinely inspirited to lead us, as well as to those who are democratically elected to do so.  

* From Marvin J. Ashton's Talk, "The Tongue Can Be a Sharp Sword," April 1992 General Conference

Definitionally Speaking

What does it mean to be a patriot? To be a traitor? Both words have recently been applied to Edward Snowden, a former government contractor who recently revealed some of the NSA's spying secrets. To some, Snowden is a truly patriotic and courageous individual who brooked personal risk of prosecution to bring nefarious (and Anti-American!) policies to light. To others, Snowden is a traitorous scumbag who betrayed his country by revealing classified information.

Are the definitions of the words "traitor" and "patriot" relative or do they have absolute meanings?  Take one example from the American revolution, Benedict Arnold.  Arnold was viewed as a traitor to the cause of American freedom because he sold out the American army he was supposed to be serving, while to British he was a true patriot in serving the just cause of Great Britain in fighting the rebels.  At the time, how you viewed Benedict Arnold probably depended on which side of the war you were on, not so much an absolute definition of patriot or traitor.

July 4th is a time when we celebrate our "independence" from Great Britain, and we include in that celebration a litany of founding fathers.  We tend to lump (dump?) all these individuals into one broad category of awesomeness and pure righteousness, but we forget that among them were Benedict Arnolds and even lukewarm "patriots" who may not have been 100% behind the war.  There was disagreement even among the signers of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution over the form and direction the new nation should take. To me, remembering the humanness of these people is very American. 

America can tolerate dissent and debate, and should not be afraid of open disagreement among Americans.  The very fact that both those who despise and those who lionize Edward Snowden can each claim the mantle of patriotism is a quintessentially American idea.  America does not mean that we all have to think alike or agree on what it means to be a patriot.  A patriot is someone who takes the ideas of America and applies them in their own way, towards a better community and a better land.  America is about building an open society that can survive Edward Snowden's revelations, absorb the knowledge, and become stronger through a discussion of whether this is something we want to do as a nation.  It's important to have that conversation, because its an American conversation to have.  Too often we claim exclusivity in our Americanism, saying that we are the "Real America" or that the other side is traitorous.  Instead of throwing labels, let's listen to the other side and actually have an adult conversation about this NSA program, its pros and cons, and whether it is justified. 

(And yes, it's ironic that I'm using a Russian song in my discussion about American dissent)

I Think I'll Try (Defying Gravity)

It should be pretty clear that I'm not a risk taker.  After all, I'm an accountant - kind of the definition of lame and "safe career choice."  But sometimes you have to try to defy even the laws of nature.  It's why I found Nick Wallenda's walk across the Grand Canyon foolhardy, yet oddly inspiring.  He's crazy, yet I admire him for taking chances. It takes bravery - you don't have guarantees of the outcome and he literally walked without a safety net.  I could not do that, but I need to start letting go of fear and taking chances - otherwise I feel like my life will be wasted.  Time to try defying gravity!

"Defying Gravity" from the musical Wicked

If a Girl Isn't Pretty

Have you ever heard of Fanny Brice?  She was a vaudeville star in the early 20th century.  Later, her life story was made into a musical and movie called "Funny Girl."  One of the songs in that musical, "If A Girl Isn't Pretty," reminded me recently of a feminist tic that I have.  I dislike double standards for men and women.  One that annoys me most is the standard set for men and women with regard to outward appearance.

Barbara Streisand, "If A Girl Isn't Pretty"

Often, women are expected to gussy themselves up in makeup, nice clothes, curled/styled hair, high uncomfortable shoes, and other expensive accessories.*  On the other hand, men can basically wash their hair and roll out of bed, put on anything, and it's totally fine.  Men aren't expected to wear makeup to cover up their real face or endure discomfort in the name of fashion, but somehow these things are perfectly acceptable to require of women, and the women who don't participate are viewed as ugly and unnatural.**

I was reminded of this double standard when listening to a version of another favorite Broadway song.  The relevant portion of original lyrics are reproduced below - this is a song composed by George Gershwin and is typically sung by a woman.  Keep your eye on the bolded lyrics describing the physical features of the woman's future love.

There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone to watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me

Although he may not be the man some girls think of
As handsome, to my heart
He carries the key

So, let's review the key elements here: a woman is looking for a man to complete her.  Even though he's not handsome, that's okay - he's a good guy who's going to take care of her (we can get into the other stereotypes of this song later - women needing men to complete them, I know, I know - we're focusing on one double standard at a time).  Now, let's look at the same lyrics when the song is sung by a MAN:

There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that she turns out to be
Someone to watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me

Although I may not be the man some girls think of
As handsome, to my heart
She carries the key

Recap: in this version, sung by a man, he's looking for a woman to complete him.  So far, we are simply reversing the lyrics sung by a woman.  BUT, notice he is *not* saying the reciprocal of the female version in that last stanza, which would be "Although she may not be the girl some men think of as handsome" - instead, the song leaves the guy as the unhandsome one, thus implying that it would be unacceptable for the woman not to be pretty.

Now, I'm probably reading wayyyyy too much into a simple song, but it's symptomatic of a culture that prizes only one type of beauty - the super skinny model kind.  As someone who admittedly doesn't fit that model of beauty, I find it disturbing that in small and big ways we reinforce the message that women must be beautiful (as the magazines define it) in order to be admired or worth pursuing.  How do we fix it?  Can we? Maybe we can fix it by admiring women for something other than physical beauty.  So, look for women who are courageous, honest, happy, or kind, and praise them for that inner strength and beauty.  It's time to look beyond our cultural blinders!  I hope we can still appreciate a great melody, right?  Especially when it's sung by a woman with a beautiful singing voice:

Ella Fitzgerald, "Someone to Watch Over Me"

*Note that I'm NOT saying that these things (makeup, high heels, nice clothes) are wrong - if you enjoy them, that's great!  I just object to having them be THE standard of beauty for women, and reinforcing the idea that if women choose other things, her natural look is somehow less beautiful.
**And yes, some of this is probably sour grapes, because I still have never figured out how to walk in heels or apply eye makeup successfully.

Friday, My Friend

Remember back when I committed to write a post every Monday?  Yeah, me neither (obviously).  Maybe next week I will finally find the right words for the posts I've been planning, but for now, I am just glad it's Friday.  This song has been rolling around in my head this week - enjoy!  May you all have glorious weekends :)

Anna Kendrick, "When I'm Gone"

Check Yourself, Before You...

Two simple words: Background Checks.  Why do we think it's a good idea for people to be able to buy a lethal weapon without undergoing a simple background check?  Is it really a sensible idea for people to buy guns without restraint?  I don't think so, and I haven't yet heard a cogent argument against background checks.  As always, I am open to being convinced if such an argument exists!

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
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As a wise poet once said, "You better check yo self before you wreck yo self."  Checking people out is just common sense - you have to do it on every job application you will fill out!  Why is there a higher bar for a job at a fast food joint than purchasing a weapon that can KILL?

The second amendment to our constitution does allow individuals to own firearms.  Yet this is not a universal right - we restrict the right of felons to own guns and most states limit access by the mentally ill.  These limitations suggest to me that gun ownership is a right that can have reasonable restrictions placed upon it.  A simple background check seems like a reasonable restriction.  Of course, this step is not going to stop all gun crimes.  I realize that criminals can have other people buy weapons for them.  Which is why we need additional laws to punish gun traffickers and provide funding for such investigations.

I think of weapons as a continuum - suppose at one end is a pocketknife, and the other end is a nuclear weapon.  Now, think about what weapons individuals should be able to own.  We do not allow individuals to own tanks or nuclear weapons.  Such an idea would be ridiculous and dangerous to public safety.  So gun control is also about drawing a line somewhere on that continuum and saying that individuals cannot own certain weapons.  My position is that machine guns, high capacity magazines, and other HIGHLY lethal weapons used in mass shootings should be illegal.

For America, I think it is important to discuss where the line on the continuum should be drawn.  We have many thousands of people in this country who die every year at the hands of a gun.  We need to thoughtfully examine what policies can prevent this.  The dead could be your brother, your sister, your mom, or your dad.  All of the victims are your neighbors.  Gun violence is a horrific problem, and we owe it to the many innocent victims to do all we can to stop these tragedies from occurring!

Memorial to the victims of the mass shooting in Newtown, CT

I've linked to one episode of The Daily Show's series on Australian gun control above, you can watch the other two parts of the series here.   .  

The Pineapple Principle

I've recently finished reading "What My Mother Gave Me" - a collection of essays by women writers on memorable gifts from their mothers.  Although it is probably too late to get this for your mom for Mother's day, I HIGHLY recommend the book.  I may be slightly biased because my aunt wrote one of the essays, but I do like that some of the authors have bad relationships with their mothers, because it means the book isn't a smarmy Hallmark type book.  It caused me to reflect on the many gifts, tangible and intangible, that my mother has given me over the years.  She gave up a paid job to raise me and my three brothers, so there's obviously the invaluable gift of time.  But I decided to write this Mother's Day post about something I'll call the "Pineapple Principle."

A lot of memories from my childhood involve large parties.  In the spring, summer, and fall, our screen porch could be filled with more than 20 people enjoying a meal, chatting, and laughing, with kids running out to the backyard to jump on the trampoline, catch fireflies, and play games.  In winter, parties spilled out of the dining and living rooms into basement.  Delicious food emanated forth from the small galley kitchen, which often produced dozens and dozens of handmade rolls for these parties.  A deep freezer (and later, additional fridge) meant that there was plenty of storage space, and plenty of leftovers for guests to take home.

As I remember it, there was always room for one more at the table, and new members of our church congregation found themselves asked to dinner.  My parents had a soft spot for those who would be alone on holidays, and several single members of our congregation became "regulars" at Easters, Thanksgivings and Christmases at our house.  I won't pretend that I enjoyed every aspect of this.  Church ended at noon, and on the drive home my mom laid out the plan of attack, listing the chores that needed to be completed by each of us in order to have dinner ready in time.

It wasn't until years later that I learned the term "hostess neurosis," but it fits my mom.  Before parties (especially in the final minutes before guest arrival) she could become a frenzy of activity.  A steady stream of commands issued forth, with admonitions to clean up toys, put things away, set the table, vacuum, dust, etc.  Sometimes I would wonder, why does she bother?  Why have these parties if it causes so much trouble?  With much murmuring, my brothers and I would help - up until our friends arrived, and then we were gone.

When the guests arrived, my mom transformed into the gracious hostess - her tone of voice much lighter.  Our house was probably never as clean as she would have liked, and there was usually still work to be done on the dinner (which was okay, because somebody was always late).  Yes, there were times when the rolls burned or something didn't turn out well.  But my mom gave a good party - the food was plentiful and delicious, and home felt home-y.  She and my dad seemed to be able to pull the good stories out of people and get them to laugh at good jokes.

I'm not sure when the pineapple became a fixture in this pantheon of parties.  It was my mom's "go-to" appetizer - a pineapple, sliced into chunks, with each chunk skewered on a toothpick along with a raspberry or blueberry.  Simple to prepare, but visually pretty because of the colors, it's a perfectly refreshing snack.  A little bit exotic somehow, yet also wonderfully ordinary.  Not too long ago, I found myself helping my mom slice and prepare thirty pineapples for a friend's wedding reception.  It's become a standard Mom dish, one that I will always associate with her.

Pineapples are a symbol of hospitality.*  So it's fitting that I tend to associate them with my mom.  When Paul is telling the saints how to behave like saints in the New Testament, he urges them to be "...given to hospitality" (Romans 12:13).  It's a verse that I've written "MOM" next to in my scriptures, because she exhibits that sense of hospitality.  The Pineapple Principle is one of hospitality and giving.

The Pineapple Principle means that I can never invite "just one" person over for dinner.  It includes the hostess neurosis and associated shortness of temper, along with the ability to make large quantities of food in a small kitchen.  The Pineapple Principle gives me the reflex to ask "What can I bring?" when I am invited to a party.  It's a gift that makes me come early to set up or stay late to wash dishes.**  It means that I bring the pineapple to my work Christmas party every year.

The Pineapple Principle has taught me to focus less on myself and my often imperfect cooking, and more on creating a space for laughter and togetherness.  My house, too, will probably never be as clean as I would like (it's the "lived-in look" as my mom says, "instead of the magazine perfect look").  But that's no reason to shy away from opening my doors.  I do, and it usually involves pineapples.  So this Mother's Day, I will have my mom over for dinner.  My dad is in charge of the pineapple this time.


*Apparently, the pineapple's symbolism is a myth.  No matter!  Slight exaggeration is a genetic trait that happens to run in my family.
**Okay, I'm really making myself sound like a saint here, but I sometimes think it's the Curse of the Pineapples, because it imbues me with a sense of duty to help with any party.  And I don't always listen to it, either.  But I know the voice in my head urging me to help is the Pineapple Principle.