Micah
18 February 2009
Being embedded in Mormon culture is a curious experience on many levels.
Service is a major part of what we Mormons do. We help each other move. We help each other paint. We make casseroles for the sick and weed gardens for the widows. I've been up early on Saturday mornings to clean the church building before Sunday services. I've been out late on Friday nights to can powdered milk for LDS Humanitarian Services.
In addition to a culture of performing random acts of kindness, we Mormons move in and out of church callings on a regular basis. Accepting a calling is kinda just what we do. A friend of mine in California coordinates the flower arrangements displayed in sacrament meeting each week. One of my roommates serves as our Elders Quorum President. My other roommate is ward mission leader.
One time my bishop called to play the piano for the Elders Quorum. I don't play the piano, but I diligently learned one song to play for each week of the month—it was painful not only for me but the people who tried to sing along. During my first few weeks of playing, I struggled not only to hit the right keys but also to see the music notes through my tears of complete frustration, nervousness, and embarrassment. There were several people in the congregation who could play the piano much better. I knew it. They knew it. But I played each week, and we all got pretty dang good at "Come Follow Me."
I think because of all the opportunities to serve and be served, I find myself loosing sight of the reason for giving and receiving service—charity. A couple of months ago I asked to be released from a calling I held for almost two years. I loved the calling, but for many reasons it was my time to be done and move on. I think it surprised my bishop when I asked to be released. He immediately offered me a new calling—a calling that I've always wanted. But I told him, "Thanks, but no thanks." I just wasn't feeling like I wanted to jump right back in.
Corinthians chapter 13 goes down as one of my all-time favorite portions of scripture. It teaches the qualities of charity: long-suffering, kindness, humility. Good stuff.
Verse three comes as a warning:
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.Does it strike anyone else as curious that even if I gave my book collection, mountain bike, MacBook, ice skates, Spice Girls t-shirt, and autographed picture of Katie Couric to the poor AND THEN allowed my body to burn for a good cause—let's say, raising money for fire prevention—I still might not have charity? That's crazy smack.
So, I've been frustrated about this for the past couple of months, and often times I've felt very inadequate about serving and being served. It's great to be nice. And it would be great if being nice was sufficient. But being nice isn't enough apparently. I've found myself wondering why. Any insights?
I wonder if the repetitive motion of being nice for the sake of being nice is not sustainable. In the past, I've done nice things without feelings of charity to back the nice things up, and eventually doing the nice things becomes somewhat of a burden. Sometimes I even grow to resent the people for whom I perform the charity-less acts of service. When I don't operating out of love, it's easy for me to be critical of those I serve, and I oftentimes judge their receptiveness to my "kindness" as inadequate. That's just not good.
It's also pretty easy to tell when someone is being nice to me because they feel like that's the right thing to do. Those "kind" acts can cause a rift unlike any other because the acts acknowledge/emphasize/pronounce the emptiness of the relationship.
And so maybe it make sense—it's not enough just to serve. I've got to be serving for the right reason. My actions must be full of meaning. And for my actions to be full of meaning, I need charity for those I serve and for those that serve me.
Which leaves me in want/need of charity.
More to come.
1 comments:
Mark,
I wanted to A) tell you that I appreciate your comments on charity and your honesty about how difficult it is sometimes to muster what we feel should be natural. I have a loose familial relation who I serve frequently, but charity isn't the word I'd use to describe my relationship with her. At any rate, it was a delight to discover your blog. I also wanted to B) largely agree with your comment and provide some clarification. As an grad student in English at UNC, I FREQUENTLY encounter things that aren't kosher with Mormon culture generally. I read lots of books that will never be taught at BYU--Morison's *Beloved* being only one example. Many of these books I appreciate deeply and strive to share with Mormon friends despite their occasionally counter-culture content. Knowledge about pot, exposure to the real world are not things I would ever want to restrict. However--there ARE substances/experiences that will change us INSTANTLY if we experiment. Pornography, cigarettes are only two possible examples. The chemical stimulus these two drugs provide creates an instant chemical dependence in SOME (but not ALL) individuals. (For more on this, you might read Malcolm Gladwell's *Tipping Point*, the smoking chapter.) Since we never know whether we are individuals who can withstand these drugs or not, the only safe course is not to experiment, not to risk opening our eyes, so to speak. I am by no means in favor of a bubble--just some well placed absolute barriers, ones specifically identified by mandate of the First Presidency.
Thank you for defending cultural exploration, and I love that you care enough to write a lot!
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