Confessions of a Mormon Bishop

Some people who read my blog are members of the LDS Church.  Some are not. For those who don't know, I served as a lay minister, a Bishop, of a flock of some 200 young single adults in the LDS Church from March 2006 to May 2009.  It was a transformational experience for me.  Indeed, it pointed me into the profession I now have as a psychotherapist.

Bishop Bob Davis

I was given to read the blog post below because I have served as a Bishop.  It touched me profoundly because I can easily relate to this Bishop's experiences.  In fact, I have many of these thoughts now as I sit in front of people as a therapist.  

By sharing this article, it will give you a glimpse into this singular experience as well what I often think of as I sit in front of people in 2013.  It's the real deal. 

Confessions of a Mormon Bishop

by RUSS HILL on MARCH 19, 2013

I pulled into my driveway at 12:30 this morning.

I sat in the car in front of our dark house for a few minutes.  Everyone inside was asleep.  The whole neighborhood was still.  And yet my mind was racing.  So many questions.  So many emotions.  Sadness.  Hope.  Inadequacy.

Welcome to the life of a Mormon bishop.

Like pastors, priests, and clergy in other religions, those of us asked to serve as a bishop in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints spend hours behind closed doors meeting with people who allow us into the darkest corners of their lives.

They come to us for various reasons.  Because of guilt.  Because they have lost hope.  Because they have been betrayed.  Because they don’t know where else to go.  Because they feel worthless.  Because the person they are isn’t the person they want to be.  Because they have questions.  Because they have doubts.  Because they believe in a forgiving God yet feel disconnected from Him.

They come and sit in front of me.  Some hesitate.  Take a deep breath.  And grasp for courage to say out loud what they have been hiding inside for days, weeks, or years.

Others almost run in.  They spill before I sit.  They’re anxious to clear their conscience or announce their doubts.

Each one is different.

For hours every week I sit.  And listen.

I did not ask for this opportunity.  I never considered I might someday have an office in a church.  I have no professional training for this position.  I am not a scriptural scholar.  I have not walked through vineyards with robe-wearing monks.  And, if you’re wondering about vows of celibacy let me introduce you to my four kids.

All I did was answer a phone call.  Show up for a meeting.  And nod when asked if I would serve.

I don’t sometimes wonder why me.  I always wonder why me.

And yet they come.  Share their stories.  And look to me for wisdom.

I’m not sure any of them have learned from me.  But, I have learned so much in the hours I’ve sat in that office listening to them.

I have learned that we believe it is a strength to conceal weakness.

I have learned that it is easy to want others to overlook our flaws as we expect perfection in them.

I have learned that it is hardest to show compassion and grant forgiveness to those closest to us.

I have learned that while curiosity is a strength it can also be a curse.

I have learned that we are creatures of habit.

I have learned that faith is a muscle.

I have learned that it is far easier to deny deity than to deny desire.

I have learned the mystery surrounding death forces a consideration of spiritual matters.

I have learned that observance of the Sabbath recalibrates perspective and improves judgment.

I have learned that most of us bear scars from the failure, disappointment, and fear in our lives.  And, we prefer to wear long sleeves.

I have learned that to deal with life’s pain most of us choose one of the following: alcohol, drugs, pornography, or spirituality.

I have learned alcohol and drugs are the easiest path.  As long as you’re willing to never stop drinking, smoking, or swallowing.

I have learned pornography is highly addictive and has nothing to do with sexual appetites and everything to do with escape.  And that the habit is never overcome in isolation.

I have learned that we feel like a failure when we make mistakes even when we profess a belief that the purpose of this existence is to make and learn from them.

I have learned that forgiveness is the greatest gift we can offer someone.  And ourselves.

I have learned that many know about Jesus Christ but more of us could make an effort to know Him.

I have learned that the strongest among us are those with the cleanest mirrors.

I have learned that the sins of parents profoundly affect children.  And are often repeated by them.

I have learned that affection from parents profoundly affects children.

I have learned that most communication between parents and children is what psychologists call “superficial.” Strong relationships are built on the “validating” variety.

I have learned that children desperately desire parents who listen.

I have learned that churches are not museums or catwalks for perfected saints but rather labs for sinners.

I have learned that “tolerate” and “love” are two very different verbs despite what popular culture professes.

I have learned that there’s more sadness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned there is more goodness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned that to be happy is a choice.

I have learned those preoccupied with serving others have less time to count their problems.

I have learned that a habit of one brief moment of spirituality a day can alter one’s entire direction.

I have learned that we want God to grant us space to make decisions but step in to stop others, nature, mortality, or illness from hurting us or those we love.

I have learned those who have made more mistakes have a great gift.  Empathy.  Now to the matter of searching out someone who hungers for it.

Indeed, I have learned I have much to learn.

The names of those I meet with will never be known.  Confidentiality demands I never disclose their stories.

But, late last night as I sat in my car on the driveway I decided I should compile a list of what the people I meet with are teaching me.

And, I wanted to share it.

HOW TO FORGIVE OTHERS

WHY IS FORGIVENESS HARD?

by Dr. Alex Lickerman, M.D., on February 1, 2010 in Psychology Today

Forgiveness is hard.  But why?  Perhaps for the following reasons:

1. We’re often reluctant to let go of our anger.  One of the main reasons people get angry is to achieve or regain control.  If we still feel harmed in the now—even years after we actually were—we frequently continue to feel angry.  And it’s inherently difficult, if not impossible, to forgive someone with whom we’re still angry.  This is true even if the predominant reason we’re angry isn’t due to frustration at having lost control but in outrage at the injustice committed against us.  But in the same way soft tissue inflammation is helpful only in the first few days after an injury occurs, often causing even more damage than the original injury if it’s allowed to become chronic, anger—no matter what its cause—if allowed to boil without being harnessed to accomplish anything worthwhile, can cause us far more harm than good.
2. We want to satisfy our sense of justice.  Even if we’re not angry, if we believe our offender doesn’t deserve our forgiveness, we may find ourselves withholding it to avoid appearing to condone what they did to us.
3. Forgiveness may feel like letting our offender off the hook without punishment.  Even if we don’t feel that forgiveness implies we condone the injustice committed against us, to release our anger and forgive our offender may feel like letting them get away without being punished, especially if no other punishment is forthcoming.
4. We wish to harm as we’ve been harmed.  An eye for an eye often feels viscerally satisfying (remember, anger must be discharged in a way that feels satisfying).  If we lack the power to deliver actual harm, harboring anger may feel like a second-best option.  Holding a grudge does in a certain sense feel good.
5. They haven’t apologized.  The power of an apology to open the path to forgiveness can’t be overestimated.  Nor can the ability of withholding an apology—of the refusal to acknowledge a wrong was committed—to block it.
6. When someone commits an injustice, we often cease to see or believe they could be capable of any good. We tend to abstract those who harm us, diminishing them from full-fledged human beings into merely “our offenders.”  This enables us to refuse to allow into our conception of them any room for the possibility that they have positive characteristics or have the capability to do good (much in the same way they abstracted our full-fledged humanity into some label that enabled them to harm us in the first place).

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO FORGIVE?

To my way of thinking, forgiveness involves recognizing that the person who harmed us is more than just the person who harmed us.  He or she is in fact, whether we want to acknowledge it or not, a full-fledged human being whose full dimension isn’t defined by their foolish decision to harm us in some way (as much as we may wish it were).  At its core I believe forgiveness is an acknowledgment that a person who’s harmed us still has the capacity for good.

Forgiveness requires us to view our offender not as malevolent but as confused—so much so that they would actually believe that by harming us they could somehow become happier (though they would almost certainly be incapable of articulating that as the reason).  Secondly, forgiving requires us to let go—of our anger; of our desire to punish or teach a lesson; of our need to harm our harmer; of the notion that by choosing to forgive an offense we’re in some way condoning an unjust action committed against us or committing an injustice ourselves; of the need for an apology; and of the need for our harmer to change.  For in forgiving another their transgression against us, we’re ultimately seeking to free ourselves.  Forgiving, as the saying also goes, doesn’t mean forgetting.  Nor does it have to mean returning the person we’ve forgiven to their former status in our lives.  It means we move on healed from the hurt ! that’s been done to us.

HOW DOES FORGIVING OTHERS BENEFIT US?

1. Forgiving others is the only way to break a cycle of violence (whether physical or otherwise).  As complex as it may be, consider the core reason why the Israeli/Palestinian conflict continues to this day.
2. In order to forgive, we must manifest a life-condition of compassion.  In Nichiren Buddhism this is called the life-condition of the bodhisattva.  A bodhisattva is someone whose most pressing concern lies with the happiness of others.  Attaining this life-condition benefits no one more than it does us, as it is a life-condition of joy.
3. In order to forgive we must let go of our anger.  If we continue to hold onto anger, it often leaks out against others who’ve committed no crime against us, as well as colors all our experiences, often ruining our ability to feel joy in many aspects of life.

FINDING THE COMPASSION TO FORGIVE

In order to muster compassion for one who’s harmed us, we must first believe with our lives that all people originally desire to become happy.  From there we must find a way to realize our offender has simply gone completely awry in their pursuit of their own happiness and pity them as we would a misguided child.  For no matter how sophisticated a person may seem, how confident and wise and successful, how could an intent to harm arise from anything other than a delusion?

The question will naturally arise:  are some people’s crimes so heinous that they don’t merit forgiveness?  Parents who’ve abused us?  Children who’ve rebelled against us?  Spouses who’ve abandoned us?  Friends who’ve betrayed us?  Strangers who harmed us or our loved ones?  Or even tyrants who’ve killed our families?  Is Hitler, for example, forgivable?  Can one forgive a person without forgiving their actions?

I would suggest only this:  that if you find yourself holding onto a grudge against someone who’s grievously harmed you, for you to find a way to forgive them—for you to become the kind of person who can—will not only first and foremost benefit you, but ultimately may have the power to transform the life of the person you’re forgiving.  Not always of course.  But sometimes.  And if it does, in forgiving them you’re not only setting yourself free, you’re actually contributing to something of greater importance, something the world is literally crying out for in more places than you could probably name: