See, it's FUNNY cuz . . .

Usually, having to explain the joke ruins it.

But today? I think it may help. And I'll explain so that we can all enjoy the funny together.

For members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ("You know, the Mormons"), Sunday is the Sabbath Day. It's a day of worship and rest and time spent with family. Sunday is the day when our church services are held. Twice a year (specifically: the first weekend in April and the first weekend in October), rather than attend traditional church services, we participate in what's called General Conference. Essentially, General Conference is a semi-annual worldwide church meeting, and since it's not practical for many millions of people the world over to meet in one physical place, the meetings are held in Salt Lake City (where the LDS church headquarters happen to be) and while people do attend the meetings live in the Conference Center (many people travel very far distances to attend in person), said meetings are then broadcast via satellite, internet, and radio, and then also distributed via good ol' fashioned print in the church's May and November issues of the Ensign magazine. During conference weekend many who don't have satellite access in their homes will attend the broadcast in their local church building (ever noticed the satellite dish outside your local Mormon church?), as was the case where I grew up. Yes, I'd get dressed in my church clothes and sit in a chapel and watch the Salt Lake proceedings on a television set. Where I live now, we can watch it on a local television station, or listen on local radio.

The speakers at General Conference are church leaders, men and women who preside over the different organizations (Primary for children, Young Women (ages 12-18), Young Men (ages 12-18), Sunday School, Relief Society for women, etc.), as well as our Prophet, his counselors, and the twelve apostles (our church is organized the way that Jesus organized it when He was living on the earth). In general, really great and inspired messages of faith, hope, charity, as well as encouragement, support, and love. For the past . . . oh, I don't know how many years, a recurring theme of instruction (particularly in the priesthood session) has been to avoid pornography like the plague that it is -- destructive to individuals, families, and therefore, society.

Notice I said that General Conference is held the first weekend April and the first weekend in October, not the first Sunday in those months. Here's the deal: There are four general sessions of conference, held (Mountain Time) at 10:am on Saturday, 2:pm on Saturday, 10:am on Sunday, and 2:pm on Sunday. There is also a priesthood session (for priesthood holders/males ages 12 and up) held on Saturday at 6:pm which is not broadcast (attend your local meetinghouse to participate via satellite) (even though it's not broadcast anywhere other than to chapels, the transcripts are included in the conference editions of the Ensign magazine). Each meeting lasts two hours.

Two hours each.

That's eight hours of church meetings in one weekend (ten for priesthood holders), twice a year.

No small thing. And it certainly could be seen as inconvenient.

Since we're accustomed to attending our church meetings on Sundays, many in our faith only participate in the Sunday morning session of General Conference. I don't have any statistics on this, but I'd wager that of the entire weekend, Sunday morning is the session in which the most people participate 'live', as it's happening. Many say that they will, "just read it in the Ensign later," and that's not unreasonable: even those who spend their entire weekends watching/listening to conference will usually review it (not to mention that talks and lessons in church are often given with specific conference talks as the subject). In fact, many individuals (and families) don't watch or listen to conference at all when it's being broadcast, instead looking at the first weekends in April and October as "Free Weekends" from church.

It wasn't until I was living in Utah that I even knew that all sessions of conference go together; previously I had learned that, "Sunday morning is the important session; all the others are optional." This is an interesting statement to me because what in this gospel (in this life?) isn't optional? I don't have to go to church at all. (I could go on and on here.) I could be incorrect, but I'll just go ahead and say it: Though the Sunday morning session of General Conference may be the most popular, the session most attended, I've never seen any sort of Official Statement saying that it's the most important session, the priority to be attended. I don't think that it's any more or less important than the other sessions held throughout the weekend, and I might add: MOST of the talks which have meant the most to me in my life have been given during sessions other than the Sunday morning session.

*ahem*

I'm getting back to the explaining-the-funny thing, I promise.

Another cultural observation is that when anyone, in reference to conference, says, "I'll just listen to it on the radio," the reaction from some die-hards is to look down on such a thing. This is funny to me: I prefer to listen to conference on the radio (I love radio) (and think of how many people on this planet have access to radio but not television or internet - is their experience solely second-rate?), but if I'm being honest, I can see how people might think this is a cop-out. It's hard for me to describe: if I'm listening to conference on my radio while I'm ironing, am I participating/engaging less than if I were to be watching the speaker in addition to listening without the distraction of a mindless chore? Does my attention to pressing wrinkles out of a collar distract any portion of my attention which would have otherwise been placed on the words of the message? Maybe, I don't know. What I do know is that, locally, there seems to be a hierarchy (culturally, mind you) about participating in conference, which is:

Attending Live At The Conference Center
Watching At Home/Church
Listening On The Radio
Not Participating

Let it be known that the above hierarchy list is both weird and insignificant because it involves people making inappropriate assumptions and judgments about not only what people are doing with their weekend, but also their methods of doing such.

THAT BEING SAID . . .

This is the funniest thing of the week.

(I hope I've adequately explained why.)

Happy Conference Weekend!


*Come back next week if you want to learn about My Trip To Europe And All That.

that *IS* the answer

(as I was saying)

AND ANOTHER THING . . .

Sometimes the answer is, "I don't know."

Maybe you have a deep-seated belief that to answer "I don't know" is unacceptable, that it perhaps shows a weakness or incompetence. I would argue the opposite and add that the ability to answer, "I don't know," shows a humility and self-awareness indicative of Still Searching and Willingness To Learn.

I don't have all the answers. Sometimes I don't even know what I think about a certain subject when it's been presented in a certain light, and so I require time to determine my answer. Sometimes I don't know what Official Church Policy is regarding said (or other) issue -- maybe simply because it's not something I've considered researching.

Answering, "I don't know," isn't so unusual. After Adam and Eve were cast out of The Garden of Eden, Adam offered sacrifice; after a few days an angel appeared and asked, "Why dost thou offer sacrifice unto the Lord?" Adam's response? "I know not, save the Lord commanded me."

I've felt that way about a lot of things in my life, many times when I've been asked why I'm doing what I'm doing (more often why I'm NOT doing something) my answer is: Because that's what I was asked to do. It's not blind/thoughtless following, it's faith and a desire to be obedient.

*****

And that, Friends, is what I felt I had to say this week about that.

Ahhhhh.

Welcome, weekend, welcome, March. The birdies sing in the morning and tease that Spring is around the corner. I like to believe those birdies.

Talking about talking about being a mormon

Talking about being a Mormon is something that's been tricky in my life. Growing up, I was the odd one -- peculiar, I suppose. Being LDS put me in a staggering minority; growing up in a family of converts not thoroughly versed in the practices of the religion is one thing which made me hesitant to discuss the matter. That hesitancy has seeped into my adulthood, but I've realized that a lot of that is because of a pattern which stems from my childhood: that of being told that what I believe is wrong.

This happened in more than one way. There, of course, was the typical method: people -- classmates, even ADULTS (I'm sorry [nope, not actually sorry], what kind of adult questions a child about their religious beliefs and then openly laughs in the child's face about them?) -- telling me Exactly What Mormons Believe. Another (specific) example, however, is something about which I don't think I've ever even spoken: I remember with clarity a day when I was being babysat by my dad's best friend's wife, a kind and soft-spoken woman who also happened to be my violin teacher. I had been singing a song to myself which I had learned at the Neighborhood Summer Bible Camp, you might know it: "I am a C, I am a C-H, I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N," and so forth. Here's the thing: as a kid, I hadn't been directly taught that being a Christian meant Believing In Christ, I thought that the title Christian was simply a religious denomination; this comes from the following (simplified) exchange:

"You're a Mormon?"

"Yes. What are you?"

"Christian."

In my mind, the available churches were: Catholic, Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran, Mormon, and Christian -- all with similarities and differences.

Are you getting what I'm saying?

I was under the impression that I wasn't a Christian.*

And so that day, being babysat, Sue asked, "What are you singing?" When I replied that I was singing my own version of that song which went, "I'm NOT a C, I'm NOT a C-H," etc., she gently suggested, "But I thought Mormons are Christians."

Confused (two different Religions, remember?), I said, "No, we're not."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh...yeah."

Relaying that story to my parents...boy oh boy, did I get The Guilt. (I sometimes half-jest that even though I've been LDS for most of my life, I was raised Catholic, what with The Guilt.) (Though, let's be honest: Mormon Guilt could give Catholic Guilt a run for its money.) Head shakes and eye rolls and "Oh, GREAT!"s. Clearly I had said something wrong. Very wrong. And there was very little chance to fix it. The damage had been done.

I had been told that what I said about what I believed was incorrect. And while, in that instance, the accusation was accurate, the sting of warning to Never Be Wrong was long-lasting. Combine that with years of being told (rather than asked about) what I believe and the accompanying ridicule (increasing in frequency and intensity over the years) and you've got the result: hesitancy to discuss Mormon beliefs -- my own beliefs, for fear of being incorrect. I didn't want to misrepresent Church Doctrine or policy, and I held my own opinions closely guarded.

While this hesitancy has remained, however, it has also evolved: I'm more familiar with the (substance of and) difference between Doctrine and Policy, and most certainly how that relates (and often doesn't and shouldn't) to Culture, and if I choose to discuss these things I do my best to differentiate. Because they are different. And yes, I said if I choose to discuss. I have no interest in engaging in a Shouting Match or a Who Can Say The Most Words contest or a Whoever Talks For The Longest Amount Of Time Wins game.

I am pleased when someone who sincerely wants to know what I believe or what I practice will ask me their questions. I look to answer those inquiries with respect, when they're asked with an earnestness showing that they're not looking to 'trap' me or some other such thing. Once I was asked if it was true that each Mormon man had permission to beat their wife once a month. Even though the notion (to me) is preposterous (not only because it's not true, but it's something I hadn't heard before, and also -- what?!?), I answered the question with the same amount of straightforwardness with which it had been asked.

I'm more than happy to have those civilized discussions, with an end goal not of conversion on either part, but of more understanding and appreciation. Asking, rather than telling, me what exactly I believe. Otherwise, I choose to NOT cast my pearls.

AND ANOTHER THING . . .

(please to read my upcoming post about said other thing)

*Mormons are Christians.