1. Julian Barnes, Arthur and George – Shortlisted for the Booker Prize, this novel explores the friendship between Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and George Edalje, the son of a Parsi vicar in the Midlands.  Edalje was falsely convicted of slashing ponies in 1903.  Barnes’ recreation of the trial and Doyle’s subsequent attempts to prove the innocence of Edalje brings up themes of national pride, spiritualism, race, and religious belief all while being set in late Victorian and early Edwardian England.
2. Lauren Willig, The Secret History of the Pink Carnation – Most of my friends had already read several of Lauren Willig’s romance novels.  Willig was originally a graduate student in the Harvard history department before she dropped out of her program to become a lawyer and eventually a novelist.  Her books, of which this is the first, delight in combining historical detail with bodice ripping romance, and each novel is centered on the story of a young English girl who has happened the safety of her home to become a spy in Napoleonic France.  The novels are also framed by the story of a female graduate student at Harvard who is slowly uncovering this story as she reads the letters, diaries, and papers the women left behind for her doctoral dissertation.  The young girl, Willig’s Mary Sue, of course, has a dashing romantic interest of her own.  Think A.S. Byatt’s Possession – only deliberately girly and more fun.
3. Elizabeth Elbourne, Blood Ground:  Colonialism, Missions, and the Contest for Christianity in the Cape Colony and Britain, 1799-1853 – The first academic work on this list, Elizabeth Elbourne’s Blood Ground is an exploration of the work of the London Missionary Society in the Cape Colony.  Elbourne argues that historians who have emphasized the dichotomy between indigenous African beliefs and white Christianity have missed the complexity of Southern African history.  By the time missionaries arrived in the Cape, she argues, the Africans living there had already been in contact with Europeans for decades.  Moreover, the translation of Christianity into Africa was something that required significant changes on both sides.  Elbourne’s exposition of British Christianity in the first chapter is also the best that I ever read.
4. Celestine Vaite, Frangipani – One of the things I learned in undergrad is that if you want to feel productive without doing any real work, you should something read something marginally related to your research.  Hence, Frangipani by Celestine Vaite.   Frangipani examines the mother-daughter relationship between Materena Mahi, the only “professional” housekeeper in Tahiti, and her daughter Leilani.  For an American reader, their relationship is tinged with exoticism.  Breadfruit trees, Chinese stores, surfing, and dancing with French soldiers all mark it as taking place somewhere different than middle America, but the story between Materena and her daughter is still recognizable and touching.
5. Maya Jasanoff, Liberty’s Exiles: American Loyalists in a Revolutionary World – I read this one in Britain with a  different subtitle – The Loss of America and the Remaking of the British Empire – designed to appeal to an audience who still finds the American Revolution a bit unsavory.  The book’s description of violence during the Revolution and the effects it had on loyalists is an important reminder that the American Revolution was for many a loss of identity and a betrayal by their fellow colonists and eventually by Britain itself who signed a peace treaty they could not countenance and then, failed to provide them with a sanctuary.  The book’s far flung geography, which encompasses India, Jamaica, Sierra Leone, and Nova Scotia, is also a reminder of the far reaching legacies of the American loyalists who colonized much of the world after being chased from their original colonial homes in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia.

(Debi Wong, the vocalist, is a fellow graduate of Yale’s Intstitute of Sacred Music. Yay, Debi!)

Habits of Being: Mormon Women’s Material Culture is the first book Exponent II has produced in thirty years, and all proceeds will help to print the books and support the organization, which, let’s be honest, Mormon feminists couldn’t do without!

So, please order a copy (you get a 15% discount until March 31) and please subscribe to the magazine! The books will be out in time for Mother’s Day and would make a very nice gift indeed.

So, this is just a reminder that volume 1 of Brittany Chapman and Rick Turley’s Women of Faith in the Latter Days is being released today. Hop on over to your local Deseret Book and check it out!

And, consider contributing to the series. Submissions are open for the third volume, covering women born between 1846 and 1870. Hip hip hurrah for what promises to be the beginning of a monumental contribution to women’s history and LDS church history. I can’t wait to get my hands on a copy.

Last week I met a friend for dinner. Our conversation was lovely and lively and deep, as it always is. At some point we landed on the topic of faith versus works and the very specific set of works in Mormonism that comprise the ordinances of salvation. Having just read Ephesians 2, I pulled out my phone to quote from it. I read verses 8, 9, and 10 across our noodles:

“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.”

I talked about Christ creating us unto good works and about those works being emblematic of our walk of faith in Christ. Incidentally, one of the waiters approached the table and said he had worked there for two months and had never heard anyone quote Ephesians 2 (he could possibly work there many more months and never hear it quoted) and that it was awesome and that that was all. A few minutes later he walked by again and said, “It is a walk of faith. People don’t know that. People in churches.” I wanted to ask him if he was a Christian, but the opportunity passed too quickly. It was a moment of witnessing together that was special, and I am glad I could be a part of it.

2.

I couldn’t offer a definitive answer to this conundrum for many reasons, one being that my own beliefs are somewhat contradictory. Simultaneously and contradictorily, perhaps, I believe in the necessity of temple ordinances and also in near-universal salvation. On the second belief, given what I know of Christ, I find it inconceivable that when *most* people approach Christ at the final judgment that they won’t be overwhelmed with his divinity and desire to do everything required to be in his presence. And if that means they repent and go straightway into the water and follow the necessary ordinances then I think that’s the way it will be. Likewise I find it almost inconceivable that Christ will look at his dear brothers and sisters in that moment of recognition and desire and say, “Too late! The way is forever shut.” I just don’t believe that.

Isn’t it possible that a moment of Christ’s love can wipe out all past wrongs? Isn’t it possible that the atonement is not just something Christ did but a completely constitutive part of who he is and that such a loving action of forgiveness would be entirely natural, even to the point of being a law governing his response? Which part of Christ’s personality will triumph, justice or mercy? Righteous judgement can be a facet of mercy, though, and perhaps I am just a bit like Corianton, doubting the justice of punishment for sins. Even if, in the LDS theology of post-mortal existence, souls will have the opportunity to hear the gospel and to accept it or reject it and even if the final judgment is the separating of the sheep from the goats with plenty of prior opportunity for repentance, I still think Christ will triumph over all hearts in that final moment. At least that is what I hope beyond all hopes. What about the potential for human hearts to change and to change rapidly when presented with a certain truth, much less the Embodiment of truth and righteousness? Didn’t the people in King Benjamin’s congregation experience an instantaneous mighty change of heart? What is the function of a covenant in their conversion?

Let’s look at Benjamin’s people. After hearing Benjamin deliver the worlds of the angel–that Christ will come and atone for the sins of the world; that it is incumbent upon them to put off the natural man and become saints through the atonement; and that one day a knowledge of Christ will fill the earth (one must think that this knowledge will fill the cosmos, too)–the people experience their conversion.

“And they had viewed themselves in their own carnal state, even less than the dust of the earth. And they all cried aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; for we believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who created heaven and earth, and all things; who shall come down among the children of men. And it came to pass that after they had spoken these words the Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they were filled with joy, having received a remission of their sins, and having peace of conscience, because of the exceeding faith which they had in Jesus Christ who should come, according to the words which king Benjamin had spoken unto them” (Mosiah 4:2-3).

The people’s faith in and their desire to have God apply the atoning blood in their lives leads to joy and a fulness of the Spirit. Their sins are remitted and they are at peace. Benjamin preaches that that the people must believe that they need to repent of their sins; they must humble themselves; and they must sincerely ask for God to forgive them. Belief must lead to action, and he asks the people to continually remember their status before God, “your own nothingness” (4:11); to remember “his goodness and long-suffering towards you, unworthy creatures” (11); and ”humble yourselves even in the depths of humility, calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come” (11). Benjamin promises that “if ye do this ye shall always rejoice, and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a remission of your sins; and ye shall grow in the knowledge of the glory of him that created you, or in the knowledge of that which is just and true” (12).

The people testify that the words are sure and true “because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which has wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil” (Mosiah 5:2). This belief and faith leads to the people’s willingness “to enter into a covenant with our God to do his will, and to be obedient to his commandments in all things that he shall command us, all the remainder of our days” (v. 5). Whether or not their covenants were ratified in a temple setting, it seems that covenants with God are a necessary component of a change of heart in this story. Through a covenant they receive a new name, the name of Christ. They are born through the Spirit before, though. Thus, at least in that moment, it does not seem to be the covenant that saves. It no doubt serves as a remembrance and a guide in their future behavior.

Now, where does judgment come in? Well, just so happens, Mosiah 4 is also where Benjamin talks about not judging those who petition for our substance, for we are all beggars before God. Giving our substance to the poor is one of the ways we retain a remission of our sins and thus walk guiltless before God. That solves the problem of judgment on the human end. But what about God’s judgment after all this love and forgiveness? In 5:5 the people say they enter into the covenant to do God’s will “that we may not bring upon ourselves a never-ending torment, as has been spoken by the angel, that we may not drink out of the cup of the wrath of God.” They seem to understand that there is a ”punishment that is affixed is in opposition to that of the happiness which is affixed, to answer the ends of the atonement” (2 Nephi 2:10). In that same verse it says that we are judged according to the truth and holiness which is in him.” Also in the same verse, it is by the atonement that we are brought to judgement. Were there no atonement, there would be no judgement. All would be lost. But judgment is a component of redemption. Judgment is formal acceptance or rejection of humans after all they have done. It is an evaluation of who they have become by walking in faith of the Lord Jesus Christ.

3.

Why then, is the temple necessary? Addressing the grace-works question, and following a thread of my own theological speculation, the temple is where our indebtedness to Christ continues to be formalized covenantally (baptism is the beginning, the entering into the way). Covenant is not just contract in Mormonism but it is worship–a worshipful enactment of mutual promises. That enactment takes place each Sunday through the Lord’s Supper. And that enactment continues on a grander scale in the temple. The temple is my favorite place and favorite concept in all of Mormonism. It speaks a symbolic language that is my native tongue. I love the rupture of the sacred into the mundane. I believe the promises made and received in the temple represent what I imagine constitutes the highest form of human flourishing. It draws me into an imaginative space where I feel connected to the cosmos. The temple is Joseph Campbell’s world navel, and draws not a little of its power in my mind from its ancientness.

These covenants are how God draws us nigh to him. Christ has reconciled God to man and man to God. But there must be an acceptance of that reconciliation for humans to become personally reconciled to God, for Christ’s sacrifice to be a living force for them. Why else does God publish Christ’s salvation? If God wanted to save people without their knowing it, he could easily do so. But he allows his yearning (his promise of making us whole) to become our yearning (our striving after wholeness), too. In the temple, we strive, we walk, we talk, we learn and carry that knowledge into the world and integrate it into our daily walk with Christ and our fellow humans.*

4.

In many of my conversations lately I have been citing an article I read discussing Nicholas of Cusa’s theology and his cloud of the impossible. One primary contradiction for Cusa is that of infinite and finite. For the author of the article, however,

“The contradictions . . . can also be the contradictions between our life calling and a relationship to a loved one, or the contradiction between our ecological awareness and our economic practice. In his cloud meditation Cusa suggests that these contradictions (which seem to be utterly resistant to our reason, which strike us as utterly impossible to resolve) suck us deeper into the cloud. We’re drawn ever deeper, until we hit a wall. We come to an awareness of a wall that seems to be woven of these intractable, irreconcilable opposites.

“But Cusa describes this as the wall of the coincidence of opposites: coincidentia oppositorum. It’s the very realization that these opposites are interwoven that points to something else, a sort of third way. It’s a struggle to get there. There’s a kind of logic of “either-or” that has to be overcome. But then a gate opens and, at least for a moment, one is in paradise. This moment never lasts. But, for Cusa, the experience of the divine is precisely that: coming smack up against this contradiction and then, if we hang in there, the opening.”

My contradictory beliefs are part of my cloud of the impossible, but they continue to draw me forward along the way of faith, and I am learning to embrace their interconnectedness and my own in-processness.

*I probably didn’t give a sufficiently scholarly or satisfying answer to the need for the temple and its specific set of works, and it’s a theme I would like to investigate more. However, that’s all for tonight. Sleep tight, all.

stupid animal videos on youtube

books, books, books

jump rope club

“simple song”

psych

the spiral jetty

the american west

dear friends and family

cereal

myths and symbols

paint, fabric, ink, paper, pencil

psalm 35:9

Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh, and here’s an adorable video of Mercedes sharing her macaron-making wisdom with some other bloggers.

Mercedes White Macarons- Blogger night from Collin Kartchner on Vimeo.

Sigh.

This announcement comes on the heals of Oprah’s re-showing of “Miss Representation,” a documentary about the sexualization of girls in today’s media and the effects that it has had on their beliefs about the leadership abilities of women.  The statistics are depressing.    American teenagers spend 31 hours watching TV, 17 hours listening to music, 3 hours watching movies, 4 hours reading magazines, and 10 hours online each week.  Most of those hours will spent watching Jessica Simpson parading around in her Daisy Dukes, Flavor Flav choosing from an array of big-busted, scantily clad woman, and the girls of Jersey Shore grinding on each other.  Even those parents who have banned MTV and VH1 from their households will be battling with movies and TV shows that suggest that the prime concern of most women is dating or getting married.  Newscasters have called Hillary Clinton haggard, asked Sarah Palin if she’s had breast implants, and referred to Condoleeza Rice as a dominatrix.  The film juxtaposes these images with the fact that there is a massive gender gap among 15 year olds who want to be President despite that equal numbers of boys and girls want to be president when they are 7.  The film also points out that only 17% of the U.S. Congress is female and that the last elections actually decreased that percentage.

There will be a screening of the film in Ogden, UT in the Chamber Auditorium at Weber State University on December 1st.  You can also volunteer to host a screening.

To find out more information about the film or to view a trailer, visit: http://missrepresentation.org/

I should mention the Moosejaw app lets you see men and women in their skivvies.  The ad I received featured a female model – of course.  I only found out about the male models by searching.

What I like about Facebook: I like the camaraderie and the networked friendships. I like meeting people virtually before I meet them in person. I like the interesting articles and videos people post. I love the instantaneous response and rapid-fire conversations. In some ways it’s an introvert’s social paradise. As one who can hardly manage being in a group of five or more, it is easier for me to maintain frequent contact with many from a distance. I like being able to have a virtual Rolodex (and this is the only reason I will not completely delete my account–for now–but only deactivate it) of all my contacts and friends with whom I have no contact otherwise.

What I dislike about Facebook: When I am not feeling well about myself, Facebook acts as a stimulant and a depressant,  temporarily boosting my ego before I despond again. I keep returning because I want to stay in touch with people. Whenever I begin my inevitable retreat from Facebook, I fear that I will be hurting someone’s feelings when I disappear from their friend list. Like it or not, virtual relationships have the emotional ties of friendships maintained in person. Those ties are real and important and something I take seriously. Then there’s the time spent. It consumes my mind in an unhealthy way and becomes an easy excuse not to think about more important things. It takes time away from healthy human relationships and personal growth in other areas. So, I am quitting for now. Buy me a patch for social network withdrawal (blogs are another form of social network, which I will ignore for the purpose of finishing this post).

The fear of missing out (FOMO), is what Wes Avram, a Presbyterian minister, suggests is perhaps the power driving Facebook, even more than the desire for social connection. His article “Connecting with a Theology of Technology” is featured in an issue of Reflections, the YDS magazine, a copy of which came for me by post. The entire issue is on technology and its implications for Christian ministry. Avram is asking for critical engagement with the ways that technology is influencing us, rather than simply accepting developing technology automatically as the status quo. And, of course of interest to me, Avram asks about its theological implications and the cost to religious life. Avram writes,

Hasn’t the religious vision of spiritual maturity always staked at least part of its claim on the value of “missing out”? Hasn’t it cherished the experience of deep exploration, of closing off options, focusing attention, and accepting limits? Hasn’t spiritual wisdom demanded patience, forgiveness, a grace that is shaped (not data-banked) by memory? And haven’t the disciplines of restraint, choice, concentration, humility, and focus been essential to the work of prayer? Can these questions be asked today without appearing hopelessly naive? (7)

 Of that increasing rarity privacy, he says, “What comes, then, of the theologically rich notion of the private, upon which all possibility of commitment and love through the course of suffering is based? Do not ethics require a healthy distinction between private and public, an orderly way of guarding the eye and deliberately missing out? And doesn’t a healthy soteriology require the same, whereby we allow the One who searches us to be a Loving Other (Holy Spirit) and not a piece of impersonal software[?]” (7-8) The last is a particularly interesting question, and Avram elaborates, speaking of the Spirit’s searching of us to fill and quiet our fear of missing out, searching our hidden thoughts and desires to shape them “and transform our fear of missing out into a desire for love” (8). Avram wants to know if that possibility changes with this latest technological revolution.

I don’t think technology and spirit are mutually exclusive, of course. He does, however, have a powerful point that I see manifest in my own life. Seeking to fill my immediate need for social fulfillment comes at the expense of asking God to fill that need in me. This article largely affected my desire for a hiatus or exodus from Facebook. The cost to my religious life, to thinking and being deliberately in the world, is real. If every time I need to seek God I ignore that yearning and click my way to therapy, I will have missed out on God’s healing balm, which requires work and submission and the transformation of the soul. 

My favorite excerpt from the entire article contains Avram’s hope for the future: “I’ll hope that we can still preserve a pre-internet, pre-cloud memory of a living hope mediated by prayer and not by hyperlink. I’ll keep hoping in a heaven that is less gnostic and more incarnational, less digitally powerful and more peaceful, less about access and more about acceptance. I’ll keep hoping that we can help a new generation remember something that technological innovation cannot give them, and hope that in so remembering they will find their FOMO healed” (8).

In October General Conference, Elder Adern offers his own techno-theology in “A Time to Prepare,” which urges technological restraint but also hints at the potential costs of resorting to technology instead of resorting to God. “How sad it would be if the phone and computer, with all their sophistication, drowned out the simplicity of sincere prayer to a loving Father in Heaven. Let us be as quick to kneel as we are to text.” And, Elder Adern hints at that incarnational heaven on earth that Avram seems anxious to preserve. “Electronic games and cyber acquaintances are no lasting substitute for real friends who can give an encouraging hug, who can pray for us and seek after our best interest. How grateful I have been to see quorum, class, and Relief Society members rally to the support of one another. On such occasions I have better understood what the Apostle Paul meant when he said, ‘Ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints.’”

True religion is found in human relationships, and although electronic communication can enhance those relationships, ultimately we are called to minister among each other, which, for me, requires some unplugging. If I do find a need for Facebook in the near or distant future, I will try to be more judicious in my use, looking Godward instead of screenward for the fulfillment of my deepest needs.

From the website: “The BYU Women’s Studies Conference on Women and Creativity, an interdisciplinary conference, will feature speakers from a variety of universities. Panels will treat many topics, including literature, visual arts, film, music, engineering, anthropology, and other fields. Conference highlights will include a plenary speaker, Dr. Susan Pickett--Catharine Chism Professor of Music Theory and Violin, a music recital by concert pianist Stephen Beus, and exhibits in the BYU Museum of Art, the Museum of Peoples and Cultures, and the Harold B. Lee Library.

“The conference is free of charge. All students, faculty, and visitors are invited to attend and participate in the event. Come and enjoy the rich history of women and creativity!”