A New Commandment I Give Unto You, That Ye Love One Another As I Have Loved You

I am a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a Christian denomination (even though some of my evangelical brothers and sisters don’t believe that) that is also known as the Mormon Church.  It is a worldwide religion of over 14 million believers (including Mitt Romney and Jon Huntsman among others) whose primary leadership is based in Salt Lake City, Utah.  Rather than being a casual member, I attend meetings weekly, perform private worship during the week, and serve in callings or perform responsibilities each week as part of my desire to perform Christian service.   I earnestly believe in the doctrines of the Church and sincerely feel that I not only worship but want to obediently follow the beings I call my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.   In this blog entry I will not discuss a wide array of doctrinal beliefs or theology of my Church but rather I will focus on what I see as a disconnect that occurs between what our religions teach us to do with what those religious beliefs should help us become.

In the Christian faith community, the pulpits are ablaze with sermons about God’s grace and His love for his children.  Those that preach proclaim that Christ’s teachings are about taking upon ourselves His attributes, such as being imbued with kindness, love, caring, gratitude, and thoughtfulness, and casting aside un-Christian characteristics like judging, coveting, and sexual impurity.  Indeed, in the congregations of my Church, we are told in word and song that “by this shall all men know ye are my disciples if ye have love one to another.”

However, in my Church and in all churches, synagogues and mosques, there is always the challenge of “living” our religious beliefs between those days when we are sitting in the pews or kneeling on the floor, and the rest of the days of the week.  True believers realize that they want to live righteous lives and their challenge is to make their lives congruent with the teachings they receive on their day of worship.  I would like to think that most do a pretty good job of it.  But it seems to me that sometimes a few of we believers lose sight of that congruency and get caught up in our own piety and what we would suppose to be the purity of where we worship, or in the notion of strictness of our doctrines.  We sometimes lose sight of the fact that our doctrinal beliefs were given to help us to not only do better but to also be better.

For example, how do we respond when someone ventures into our religious buildings that does not fit the stereotypical appearance of who we piously think should be there?  Or when, having attended for a period of time, a person is discovered to have something done something “wrong?”   Or more critically, when someone we know as an acquaintance, friend, or even a family member, is discovered to be engaged in some activity that may be contrary to doctrines espoused by us and our religions?

Because of our fears of being contaminated personally, or our homes or religious building being desecrated, or our desiring to keep our homes or families or congregations or religions pure, do we lose sight of what the religious teachings are trying to help us become, and shun the individual?  Out of that fear, do we do what our natural, non-religious selves demand that we do, and that is to judge him or her (or them)?  Do we understand so little of our underlying doctrines?  Are we so insecure in our religious beliefs?  Are our religions merely about purity?

A lay member of my faith was asked to speak at one of my religion’s important meetings, and although it was a few years ago, the words he uttered still haunt me.  He said, and I am paraphrasing, “for me, the sweetest smell I can smell in these meetings is the smell of cigarette smoke on someone’s clothing.”  For anybody who does not know, to be a completely faithful member of my Church, allowed to participate in all its worshipping rituals, you cannot smoke (or drink coffee, tea, or alcohol.)  Obviously, someone who smells of cigarette or cigar smoke would likely be judged as not being completely faithful.  What do I do with this apparent paradox?  Do I distance myself by not interacting with him or her at all?  Do I take this person aside and tell them that they smell and that they need to do something about their problem?  Do I tell them that they just need to try harder not to smoke, or maybe pray more diligently?  Do I talk to other congregants about how bad this person smells?  Do I go to Church leaders and tell them this person reeks of smoke? 

In my belief system, I must ask myself “what would Jesus do with or say to this individual?”  Does He love them any less because they smoke?

The speaker then said something else in the same sermon that likewise haunts me.  Again, paraphrasing, he said, “if all of our sins had a smell, what would you and I smell like?”

I understand that refraining from such substances is unique to just a few religions, so I would like to bring up a more universal “prickly” issue that many faith communities are wrestling with: same sex attraction.  My intent is not to bring up the issue of the correctness or incorrectness of SSA or so-called gay marriage, although I have opinions about them.  What I wish to address is how we as straight people in faith communities respond to these fellow travelers in mortality, these souls who I have been taught are my spiritual brothers and sisters, as all people are.  What do I do when they exercise great courage and risk by daring to darken the doors of our religious buildings, knowing that they might be judged and/or shunned.  Or even more difficult, what do I do when one of these sensitive individuals is my friend, my uncle or aunt or cousin, or my parent, or my child?

Do we go to our pious place and declare that they are flawed (which by making that judgment we infer that we are not, and as such are better than they are)?  Do we judge them as evil or wicked and that they are surely going to go to hell or wherever or whatever our purgatory is (which distances us from them)?  Do we tell fellow congregants that they are gay or lesbian or even transgender (as if we are morally superior to them)?  Do we consider them so sinful that they are not worthy of our love, and in my case, my Christian love (because sexual sin is regarded as being so heinous)?  Do we preach to them and tell them that if they were really spiritual the attraction would simply go away (as if that may not have crossed their minds at one time)?  Do we bring out our particular scriptures and lecture them on the scriptural evils of being attracted to someone of the same gender (because we feel that it is our responsibility to set them straight)?  Do we just avoid them and have nothing to do with them because they make us feel uncomfortable (because dealing with people different from us makes us uncomfortable)?  Do we tell them to leave our homes and that we never want to speak to them again (because they are a disgrace and embarrassment—they make us look bad---and are not deserving of our love)?

Are we so insecure about who we are and what we believe that we have to put someone down or distance ourselves from them because they are different?  Are we so oblivious to what really matters—like being kind and gentle as little children?  (Have you ever noticed how easily young children play with other young children no matter their gender, size, race, color, religion, or smell?  Those are adult constructs.)  Are we so threatened by others’ lifestyles that we cannot look past them to find out who they really are?  Are we who are Christian so caught up in the Mosaic Law-type, letter-of-the-law piety and hypocrisy as the Pharisees were that we do not see His higher law of a broken heart and a contrite spirit, and of loving our neighbors as ourselves?   

My hope is that when people who are “different” from us live with us, work with us, and come to our places of worship with us, we can begin the transition to forget about appearances, we can begin the transition to get past our pre-conceived stereotypes, we can begin the transition to get to know who they are in their souls, and we can begin the transition to come to care for them like we would like to be cared for.

This blog post is dedicated to two men, one whom I know very well and love as a brother who has a gay son whom he loves and adores and is a true example of Christ-like love to him, and the other a person whom I have never met but hope to meet at some future day.  His name is Mitch Mayne, and he is currently serving as the Executive Secretary of the San Francisco Bay Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and who happens to be openly gay.  He is a fellow blogger at mitchmayne.blogspot.com.