A joint RS/Priesthood meeting was held to approve the Ward budget. Most of the time was devoted to the YM/YW organization. The meeting began with the reading of a statement from SL reminding all wards that the YM and YW organization were to receive equal funding. The bishop, a rude, arrogant (oh, did I say that?) man proceeded to present a budget that gave the YM approximately 3 times the finding as the YW.

Now I’m not of a particularly feminist bent, but this was in direct contradiction to what the Bishop had read at the beginning of the meeting! Then he asked for a “vote” on the budget. I conscienciously determined that I could not raise my hand to support this travesty, but I intended to leave it at that. It was only as I heard a few gasps around me that I realised that my right hand had just levitated on its own accord when he asked whether anyone was against the budget as presented. I thought Bishop M was going to have a cow right there in the chapel.

After considerable flustering and blustering and making all sorts of lame excuses for the disparity, he asked whether I could support the budget if it were made “fair”. His idea of fair was obviously different from mine. I replied that I would support the budget when the amounts were made equal. He changed the subject and soon dismissed the meeting.

I remain completely convinced that the record of the meeting stated that there was unanimous support for the budget.

I was just as astonished at myself as anyone else was, but I don’t regret what I did or said. Afterward, several people, both male and female, voiced VERY quiet and private support for me, but no one dared say it very loudly.

The same culprit is behind our failure to produce great literature: there must be a happy ending, and please, no lurid details. Don’t dwell on the darkness, but look for the light.

I believe that a student of modern literature (or at least literary theory and criticism) would say that this statement about American literature is exactly the opposite of the truth. In fact, Mark Helprin recently had a bone to pick with America’s so-called literati on this very issue. They’re too interested in the darkness.

Anyway, regarding church, I’d say that a certain degree of self-censorship (otherwise known as reflection, consideration, or thinking) is called for.

I think that church is a place to come together to try to help each other live the gospel. There is an assumption that the people around you are anxiously engaged in trying to live the gospel, despite their struggles. I do not think it is appropriate for people to make comments that show an attitude of NOT wanting to live the gospel. I also think that the different meetings and different class sizes and different teachers make a variety of church experiences. Sometimes you just listen, sometimes you can make occasional comments, sometimes you can get in an involved discussion. Sometimes, of course, you are teaching the youth or primary.

>I was about to say that I hate censoring myself, but that
> isn’t really true.

And yet another instance of self-censoring. (Stupid censor!)

I whole-heartedly agree. I think one of the hardest issues with self censorship is what is motivating it. As with many things, I think purity of motive is a key consideration, but for some reason, the intersection between “an eye single to the glory” and self-expression/censorship is particularly hard for me. If I have something controversial to say, should I say it becuase it might help someone? Or should I not say it because I just want to appear smart/complicated/spohisticated? Or should I say it because the only reason not to is my fear that I will be perceived as the ward crackpot? Am I just a victim of the “true-but-not-useful” culture, or is this a really complicated issue in a faith community?

Well, they eventually did leave the church–the “nothing” option–but that was their choice. I don’t regret the way I handled that conversation at all. Of course I’m sorry that they left, but I would be sorrier if I hadn’t dealt with him honestly as a friend. Because he probably still would have left, but he would have done so with an inaccurate picture of what a “real” Mormon is. Real Mormons are all kinds.

One lesson I enjoyed most of all was about the temple. The lesson material itself was standard fare: blessings of attendance, how the temple is the pinnacle of earthly worship, that sort of thing. Very fluffy and airy stuff. I had planned a twist on the lesson, but when I got to class, it turned out that we had some special guests: the stake president and one of his counselors, all three members of the bishopric, and a high councilman. I gave my lesson as planned anyway.

“Let’s face it, Brethren,” I said, “The temple is boring.”

Pragmatism ensued. It was awesome.

consequently, I hate making comments in GD. It is just too difficult to make meaningful statements with that many people half of whom want to interject and all want to make different points. At the same time, I love elder’s quorum. The smaller number of people really encourages the oppurtunities to explore what is being said.