You give much to ponder. For now, I’m going to find common ground and simply say that I share your concern with “overdress” in regards to physical attachments. I’m not talking about someone’s wedding band or another’s cross, or even a temple, but our attachment to THINGS, things which do burden us and which must ultimately be shed. My concern with this issue was so real to me that I took my children to Guatemala last summer so that they could experience what I did many years ago: the unencumbered life and the joy of those who aren’t constantly comparing cars and houses; the sociality that I found there, the openness. Indeed, it was transformative for them, and for me (and Bruce also joined us for awhile and felt the spirit of the place).

But of course, we returned to Utah, to our carpeted home, our sofa, piano, furnished bedrooms. We were temporary visitors in Guatemala, but we were always a plane ride away from our familiar luxury.

When Bruce and I read _The End of the Spear_ and then bought the documentary made by Steven Saint and others about evangelical missionaries who were killed in the jungles of Ecuador, and whose families chose to stay and live among the people who had killed their loved ones and bring them to Jesus Christ, it made me long to return to that other world I know and love. It was actually hard for me to read the book because it awoke such yearning in me to be stripped of everything but the most essential–and yes, our most important “clothing” is our relationship to our Savior, who provides the ultimate priesthood robe and mercifully covers us.

Let me say that I have been troubled when some of my Mormon friends have spoken ill of Evangelical Christians. I have heard fellow Mormons say things like, “Evangelicals believe that all they have to do is confess Christ and it doesn’t matter what else they do in life.” My reaction has been, “You must know different Evangelicals than I do, because every devoted Born-Again Christian I have known has worn their religion beautifully. Their conversion was not a one-day event, but a life change, which informs everything they do.”

All of us in different faiths are very capable of reducing others to quick and cheap summaries. I was glad to see that your website sought not to do that with the LDS faith, that there was even a post titled “We need to apologize.” I’m not playing the victimized Mormon here, because obviously we are capable of some awful behavior–such as you experienced at Temple Square.

I would hope we would stand up for each other and be willing to kneel beside one another. I’ll use a friend’s experience to express this.

This friend became very ill while visiting his in-laws in California, and was hospitalized for months. Nurses attended him daily, and they became very close. When he was about to be released, one of the nurses said, “I feel like I need to confess one thing. I’m the enemy. I’m a Seventh-Day Adventist.” My friend said, “Oh no, you’re not the enemy. We’re on the same team. Satan is the enemy.”

And that’s all I have time for right now. I’ll continue pondering and respond further later.

If I might share just a couple of thoughts:

The purpose of the Temple is to bring us more perfectly to Christ. I remember being amazed the second time I went through the Temple (the first time I didn’t understand enough to even be confused) how often Christ was represented symbolically. My understanding, appreciation, and awe of Him and His sacrifice bloomed. I knew more clearly what He had done for me, and how His atonement applied to my life here and now and at the end of things. The Temple is not the Lord, the Temple is not the Savior, but the Temple did help me come to know Him and love Him.

And no, no spouse could fill His role. But Christ died, I think, to make us worth dying for. Everyone will disappoint, but not the Lord. What of us then when we become perfectly united to Him? When our wills are aligned through the at-one-ment? We won’t disappoint either. CS Lewis said He was a pioneer, that we were all to become little christs. The Temple helped me see that and take steps in that direction–climbing up and up toward the mountain (I love “The Great Divorce).

And so we seek Him–in the words of scripture, in the waters of baptism, hiding behind the emblems of the eucharist, within the walls of the Temple. Many lovers remember important locations fondly; the porch swing of a first kiss, the tree with carved initials, the park where there was kneeling and a ring. Isn’t it understandable to love the place I began to understand His love, and love Him back?