Rational faith 5: Wrap up

While I was writing one of my previous posts, a resident I work with asked me what I was doing. I explained that I write a blog and that I was currently writing about science and religion. He recommended a recent article in Time magazine, so I had a look.

The article includes an interview with Francis Collins, the guy who headed the human genome project. Dr. Collins is actually sort of a hero of mine. I had the chance to meet him at the NIH a while back during a meeting for physician scientists. He was so approachable and happy, I just wish I had the opportunity to be his friend on an ongoing basis.

Anyway, I was happy to see him featured in an article in Time and taking a position similar to mine from the last several posts. Here are a few quotes from the article:

TIME: Dr. Collins, you believe that science is compatible with Christian faith.

COLLINS: Yes. God's existence is either true or not. But calling it a scientific question implies that the tools of science can provide the answer. From my perspective, God cannot be completely contained within nature, and therefore God's existence is outside of science's ability to really weigh in.

...

DAWKINS: I think that's the mother and father of all cop-outs. It's an honest scientific quest to discover where this apparent improbability comes from. Now Dr. Collins says, "Well, God did it. And God needs no explanation because God is outside all this." Well, what an incredible evasion of the responsibility to explain. Scientists don't do that. Scientists say, "We're working on it. We're struggling to understand."

...

DAWKINS: ... It would be unseemly for me to enter in except to suggest that he'd save himself an awful lot of trouble if he just simply ceased to give them the time of day. Why bother with these clowns?

COLLINS: Richard, I think we don't do a service to dialogue between science and faith to characterize sincere people by calling them names. That inspires an even more dug-in position. Atheists sometimes come across as a bit arrogant in this regard, and characterizing faith as something only an idiot would attach themselves to is not likely to help your case.

Collins acknowledges what I believe as well: science is inadequate for answering questions about God. He shows that a brilliant scientist can believe in God and science simultaneously. And Dawkins demonstrates the disdain of certain non-believers who seem to not only disagree with the idea of religion, but resent it. I'll stop short of writing an extended review of his comments (and tone) in the article.

I did have a few more thoughts I wanted to put in this series, but I'm sick of it now. Some other time I'll post those other thoughts on their own. I may not have persuaded anybody that I'm not brainwashed, but it was a great exercise to really look inside myself and realize why I believe as firmly as I do in the gospel even while aware of so-called anti-Mormon points of view. I'm very happy with my current level of testimony and understanding and look forward to a life of learning and growing.

Index to series:
Rational faith 1: Science
Rational faith 2: Spirituality
Rational faith 3: Grand unifying theory
Rational faith 4: Creative calculus

Rational faith 3: Grand unifying theory

The conflict between science and religion is a cliché. It's there demanding to be addressed by anyone who values them both but notes the inconsistencies. Ezra Taft Benson said:

Religion and science have sometimes been in apparent conflict. Yet, the conflict can only be apparent, not real, for science seeks truth, and true religion is truth. There can never be conflict between true religion and scientific fact. That they have occupied different fields of truth is a mere detail. True religion accepts and embraces all truth; science is slowly expanding her arms and reaching into the invisible domain, in search of truth. The two are meeting daily; science as a child; true religion as the mother. Truth is truth, whether labeled science or religion. "Truth is knowledge of things as they are, as they were, and as they are to come" (D&C 93:24). Truth is always consistent. It can never be in conflict with itself.

This is a quote explaining an idea I've long been fond of. It jives with my sense that there's Truth out there with a capital T, objective reality plugging along despite our inability to pin it all down. I love the idea that ultimately there are answers for everything... things work. Proving existence of objective reality is burdensome (and somewhat ridiculous), so I just start with confidence in Benson's notion here.

However, the problem with interpreting Benson's quote is that it may tempt us to try to reconcile faith and religion now, as if we have the means to do so. This effort has been made in the past with some unfortunate outcomes. Churches have dictated what science is allowed to do, and dictated "truths" about the universe based on a presumptive reading of scripture. I'm of the opinion (and I think history supports me on this) that that's a bad way to go about things. I'm a resolute opponent of Intelligent Design masquerading as science, for example.

I see science and spirituality as two separate but effective ways of learning. They teach us about different things and we will be wise to use them only as directed. Science works terrifically for advancing temporal causes, but using it for spiritual pursuits is something like building a tower of Babel or seeking signs. That's not to say that reason isn't central, because I think it is inseparable from a genuine testimony, but the effort to prove religious principles can be antithetical to portions of the plan of salvation.

Similarly, intuition and unfounded confidence have to be checked in science. There's room for creativity and fresh ideas, but when it comes down to testing a hypothesis, aberrancies are wrought out and destroyed, precision is pursued with alacrity, and confounders are battled with vigilance. Holding on to any biases not supported by verifiable data is counter-productive. And, as I mentioned before, using doctrines or religious tenets anywhere in the scientific process is a bad idea.

Despite their differences, the effectiveness of both science and spirituality for their respective purposes is undeniable in my mind. As my previous two posts attest, they both work really well for me. It's just the inappropriate inter-mingling of the two methods that causes problems. Just as one should not combine the theory of relativity and quantum physics, the two systems of thought can't be mixed without coming up with some absurdities.

Is there a way to use both together to build a unified world view? Where's the grand unifying theory of science and religion? I'm working on my own version, but it has its problems. I do believe that some such combined world view is possible without resorting to being irrational. Perhaps it won't be provable (just as string theory attempts to reconcile relativity and quantum physics but can't be proved without a particle accelerator the size of a gallaxy) but that lack of proof won't make it automatically irrational.

Next time: my effort at a rational and faith-accommodating world view.

Index to series:
Rational faith 1: Science
Rational faith 2: Spirituality
Rational faith 3: Grand unifying theory
Rational faith 4: Creative calculus
Rational faith 5: Wrap up

Rational faith 2: Spirituality

Despite the undeniable utility of scientific inquiry, it is largely inadequate to answer spiritual questions-questions that are arguably the most important ones we face. While science can tell me how best to reach a certain objective or what to expect from the natural world, it can't transcend the natural world to provide answers about meaning and purpose.

This observation is no indictment of science. It's just how things are. If we trace back natural laws to moments after the Big Bang, we find that they suddenly fail to hold. Laws we typically accept as fact are broken, it seems. We can no longer use our conventional tools to answer important questions. What was before the big bang? What is smaller than a quark (or insert the latest vogue subatomic particle)? What is past the edge of the universe? ... all seem out of reach. Even granting the theoretical ability to answer those specific questions, there will ALWAYS be something out of provable reach, as Gödel has gone ahead and shown. Let me say it again: on the most fundamental level, there will always be something just out of the reach of observation, measurement, and even logic.

One may choose to be satisfied with these limitations, but I'm prone to believe that there is a fully spiritual aspect to my humanity, and that addressing it may transcend those limitations. Maybe it just requires a different approach. I hunger for meaning and spiritual knowledge. How I find that spiritual information is still subject to rational processes but is not subject to all the assumptions of science (and therefore may not be subject to all its limitations).

Many are quick to point to the widely disparate conclusions drawn by those pursuing spirituality. They conclude that none of those spiritual views have any merit over the others. This is invalid. I believe that some spiritual conclusions are right, and some are wrong. Some are incomplete or inferior. And some are supernal and real. Faulting spirituality for its non-demonstrable nature shows a misunderstanding of the rules of the game, and denying that reason plays a role is equally incorrect. We ought to have respect for differing views without accepting them all as having equal merit. Some spiritual views are irrational, yes. But calling all spirituality irrational is a fallacy of generalization.

There are admittedly many perils inherent in any subjective process, but those perils can take you in opposite directions. I've met folks who interpret Mary's face on a piece of toasted cheese to be a sign from God, and although I can't rule that out, I agree with those who note such random "signs" will happen with certain regularity over time based on probability alone. On the other hand, categorically dismissing spirituality as the result of misinterpretation of coincidence in all cases is unjustified. A rational person will recognize that the existence of such misinterpretation and coincidence does not rule out the discovery of genuine spiritual information in some cases. That is, there are both real and mistaken spiritual experiences, and one's discovery of the existence of the latter shouldn't lead one to fallaciously generalize all spiritual experiences by all people to that group.

The notion that an all-powerful Father in Heaven has created this universe and our souls for purposes that can only be partially represented to our mortal minds as "joy" and "exaltation" establishes a framework from which to understand our spiritual world. The scenario is fleshed out quite reasonably and rationally with an explanation that God's interactions with man are limited and indirect because those circumstances are necessary for development of a righteous will and maturation of a divine nature. Further, the idea that God provides information through a nuanced combination of personal revelation and authoritative messengers makes a lot of sense.

Spiritual inquiry necessarily uses reason and logic, but expands acceptable working data past what is reproducible and demonstrable. Clinical trials and retrospective analysis are key for discovering and believing what can't be overtly proven (and must therefore be based on faith). But the data turned up by such analysis can only be personally appreciated, and may therefore get a lot of scorn from those who have had a vastly different personal spiritual experience and have no context to appreciate an individual's specifics.

Spiritual truths are most immediately meaningful for what they tell us about living life abundantly, finding joy, and being filled with other divine attributes like love. Spiritual inquiry, because of its subjective nature, is often condemned for its non-reproducibility. But this non-reproducibility is expected within the context of a personal spiritual journey in which transcendental truths are available on a need-to-know-when-you're-ready basis. So, ultimately, it comes down to each individual and his or her own experience. And my experience tells me that spiritual inquiry has been extremely successful in my life in providing meaning and purpose. It has been extremely successful in making the people I admire into the people that they are. It has been extremely successful in predicting what will make me happy and help me flourish. Basically, I like spiritual inquiry because it works really well.

Index to series:
Rational faith 1: Science
Rational faith 2: Spirituality
Rational faith 3: Grand unifying theory
Rational faith 4: Creative calculus
Rational faith 5: Wrap up

Institutions

I was listening to the radio over the weekend and heard some scholarly pundit talking about reformations and how all major world religions go through them occasionally. As one example he suggested Jesus accomplished such a reformation with his central message that spirituality and peace come from the individual and not through an institution (i.e. the Pharisees). Apparently the Sermon on the Mount was a mere footnote to Jesus' larger aspirations to stick it to the man.

When people talk about the divinity of the LDS church, people align predictably according to their testimonies and interpret any measures of institutional success or failure in that context. The faults of the church are attributed to imperfect men (just as in the Book of Mormon) by faithful church members while opponents attribute problems to systemic flaws. Whether the structure, programs, or institutional practices of the church are divine is debatable even within a faithful paradigm. God, it seems to me, doesn't typically micromanage.

Regardless, the very common idea that no institution has a right to stand between me and my God only makes sense if my God agrees. Many Gods, being the invention of their respective believers, don't have any problem with an ad hoc connection and ad hoc salvation. The Mormon God, however, prefers a more orderly approach to salvation. Authority, ordinances, and structure are just a part of the deal, like it or not.

This all came to my mind with some immediacy recently when I attended the temple. I was thinking about prophets and having a church or other men or anything, really, between me and God. To my surprise, the words of the temple ceremony became surprisingly and pointedly relevant. The dialog reminded me of how much I don't know and how reliant I am on God to teach me in His own way according to His own wisdom. Although I'm a big fan of personal responsibility and a personal relationship with the Savior, I, for one, am grateful for the Lord's institutions and believe reformations should accomplish a balance rather than swinging too far in the opposite direction.

Testimony Sunday

Was that it? The odd sensation I had just experienced somewhere deep in my chest seemed like it could be characterized as a “burning in the bosom” but it could just as easily have been some odd physiologic sensation I had only noticed because of my intense personal awareness at the moment I was looking for a sign from God.

Really, that’s been the problem with personal revelation from the beginning—the vagueness. It’s described in a way that seems to require certitude as the defining characteristic. But when I try to wrestle with life’s problems, I often find very little that is so distinct.

I’m in the habit of attributing such spiritual communication failings to myself. After all, if one is unworthy of the spirit, one should not be surprised that He fails to imprint God’s truth with searing absoluteness in the heart at a moment’s notice. And I have never been wholly satisfied with my worthiness. That’s not to say that I haven’t been a good person. But I’ve never felt myself to be “godly” and part of me feels, however wrongly, that that’s a prerequisite for really being on chatty terms with God.

God is in the habit of talking with sinners, though, and I’m sure he recognizes far better than I do the paradox of withholding His help from those who are unworthy of it when it is His help that they need to increase their worthiness.

So I pray and I try to listen even when the answers are uncertain. I act on the answers I think I’ve received, and I think I may well have been mistaken at times. I chose my career based on such an answer. I married my wife based on such an answer. In retrospect it’s hard to imagine the borderline insanity necessary to make such huge decisions based on something so nebulous. But it wasn’t really based only on the answers I believe I received to my prayers, it was also based on a lot of critical thought and carefully measured introspection—logic trumping gut instinct as it so often does when I appraise my life’s situation.

The problem with logic over the certainty that the Spirit can and does offer at times is exactly that—logical conclusions are always provisional, never certain, subject to perpetual review and can never really be certain as long as the data they are based on is never fully collected. As new information becomes available, the equations change, the suppositions morph, and the whole system of assumptions and conclusions is adjusted by levers and gears that are inseparably connected.

Such gears and levers have disturbed my peace many times over the years. When I’ve been confronted with some surprising fact or historical bit about the church or a church leader, I’ve been so sadly resigned to be an over-worked maintenance man on the whole mechanical system that my faith and world view have been.

But I’ve realized over the years that such maintenance is only appropriate if it does not seek to replace faith. There is a balance between faith and evidence both spiritual and intellectual. The evidence presents itself, but the faith is a choice. And I do choose to have faith in the things of which knowledge is unattainable through empiric means but that extend from everything desirable and wholesome I’ve encountered in my life.

The good that I find in my concept of God and the promises made to those of many faiths who seek to follow Him, all speak to a transcendent reality—a state of purposefulness and significance of the universe that has as its origin something other-worldy. I’ve watched for those people who have the most significant scent of wholesome other-worldliness on them, and I find they are my parents, my prophets, and good men of every faith who strive to do what God has variously revealed. God’s plan, his devices, his manner of interacting with mankind, has been curious over the history of the world. Odd, regardless of the religious tradition.

I was delighted to learn that he speaks with prophets and that these men and women with first-hand knowledge of God share the light and truth they know. They often demonstrate what kind of lives we can have when we partake completely of that other-worldliness. And that I see and appreciate with a clarity that is undeniable. In this I have achieved my certitude, my absolute confidence beyond logic. When I see the good and beautiful lives and deeds of those who know God intimately, I’m uplifted and inspired. And while there are faults and errors on occasion, the overall quiet peculiarity is pervasive and sound.

That realization, over the years, has “converted” me. It’s why I believe the church to be true and why I know there is truth outside the church. It’s why I try every day to change myself into the divine creature God intends me to be. Because only I can create my will to be like God’s will. Only I can work within myself to bring about an acceptance of God’s love and help. Then I can fully accept a changed heart and spirit as God’s willing gift to his imperfect child. I’ve seen the successes of those who accept God, and the truth of that is undeniable. Like a Gift of the Spirit, to believe on the testimonies of those that know, I have a transcendent certainty that can’t be shaken. And I’m grateful for it.

Good guys

I like stories that don't have definite good guys and bad guys. Life isn't really made up of people who are either good or bad, but rather of complex people, all of whom have value. One part of Middlesex that I liked was that the physician and the religious guy were the two (almost) scummiest characters in the book. I like being a physician and a religious guy, and I can't help but believe that I choose those parts of my character because I think they are good. It's a nice reminder that they aren't necessarily good.

On the other hand, I do get a little annoyed when there are no contrasting characters to give a little balance. In contrast to Dr. Luce was Dr. Philobosian, a great doctor. But where was the parallel character to Father Mike? I don't remember one. He was just the villain of the book and, in this tale of sexual ambiguity that already has plenty of spiritual controversy built in, we'll make him the ultimate antagonist as well. Did anyone else catch the filthy description of the baptismal font? The slimy water with a band-aid in it? Sounds like hepatitis waiting to happen. Oh, and tricknology? That's the view of religion I got from the book, and it's one of the very few complaints I have. I'm not against religious villains, but I am against the next step in which it gets to be too categorical.

Religion and public policy

Now, relative to church participation in public debate, when churches or church leaders choose to enter the public sector to engage in debate on a matter of public policy, they should be admitted to the debate and they should expect to participate in it on the same basis as all other participants. In other words, if churches or church leaders choose to oppose or favor a particular piece of legislation, their opinions should be received on the same basis as the opinions offered by other knowledgeable organizations or persons, and they should be considered on their merits.

By the same token, churches and church leaders should expect the same broad latitude of discussion of their views that conventionally applies to everyone else’s participation in public policy debates. A church can claim access to higher authority on moral questions, but its opinions on the application of those moral questions to specific legislation will inevitably be challenged by and measured against secular-based legislative or political judgments. As James E. Wood observed, “While denunciations of injustice, racism, sexism, and nationalism may be clearly rooted in one’s religious faith, their political applications to legislative remedy and public policy are by no means always clear.”

-Dallin H Oaks

If it hadn't been the "11th hour," I would have enjoyed the opportunity to think about gay marriage a lot more before deciding whether to support or oppose the particular amendment considered by the legislature. As it was, the reponses I got from my congressman and senators were assuringly rational, if a bit surprising. They agreed that marriage should be between one man and one woman, but that such things ought to be governed by states, not in a federal constitutional amendment. Having been involved in policy making on a very small scale, I think it's interesting to watch a popular idea destroyed because the implementation is all wrong. It's a good thing, certainly, but also a marvel anything ever gets done.

But my reluctance to support the amendment wasn't based on the execution, it was based on the idea itself. And my opposition to the idea was based on the way I thought it was appropriate for goverment to codify religiously based morals. Basically, I've come to believe as Oaks expressed above that religiously informed moral views have every right to be aired, but they are judged on the same basis of every other view. And I thought in this case the only argument I could make was "because God says so," which is a fantastic reason, but one unpersuasive when considered on the same basis as every other view. "On the same basis" means largely for me that science ought to give legitimacy and credibility to a view whenever science has something legitimate and credible to say on that view. The problem is, of course, that science is routinely obscured in favor of pseudo-science marketing crap that makes much stronger conclusions than are warranted. Without science or pseudoscience, the argument often becomes a series of assertions and denials that beg the question.

Anyway, this post isn't about science. It's about religion and public policy. I was excited to find this article from Elder Oaks (who is one of my favorite writers in the church). I found it persuasive. I'd be interested to hear everyone's thoughts.

The 11th hour

I sat down at the computer to e-mail my congressmen about the proposed Marriage Protection Amendment just one day prior to the vote. I knew it was the 11th hour and that my decision about what to write would reflect far more on myself than it would have any impact on what my legislators thought or voted. But church leaders had asked me to "express myself," and I've always been a sucker for the importance of participating in representative government.

I had come to the conclusion that gay marriage was a good thing based not only on what I know and believe about the social impact of gay marriage--that it would be an effective way to encourage gay folks to be committed and monogamous, to provide them the legal tools to properly participate in the domestic affairs of those with whom they had become domestic partners, to choose committed love as an ideal over adultery--but also because it just seemed right and fair in this diverse country to allow people to pursue the brand of happiness they find acceptable for themselves.

I had thought about it a fair amount. And all my reasoning (and the social data) seemed to indicate gay marriage would be a good thing, despite my acknowledgement others may easily come to a different conclusion.

I found loopholes and legalistic reasons why I thought my opposition to the amendment and support of gay marriage were not strictly inconsistent with the counsel of the church. But, some part of me knew that pharisaic approach wasn't going to work in the end.

I sat, thinking and uncomfortable. Fingers perched, ready to type some sense out of the confusion.

I remembered one of the many defining moments on my mission when I received a letter from my parents--both terrified that I was standing at the edge of apostasy's cliff, ready to jump. I had written them some snide comments about a few of our mission rules, and they had been horrified enough to immediately produce a long rebuke. It's one of the few times on my mission that both parents contributed substantially to a single letter.

I think the particular issue may have been my president requiring us to take daily herbal supplements--a position he crowed was backed by scientific evidence (and a position about which science has long since vindicated my skepticism). It didn't matter whether he was right or wrong, my parents said, it mattered that I trusted and obeyed. They weren't stupid. They knew how counter-intuitive that was, how cultish. But they also knew that there would be times in my life later when I would think I understood something better than my priesthood leaders and I would be wrong. Then, it might be on something that mattered. And ultimately, they knew the church was true and that while small injustices would come of trusting leaders (like choking back daily garlic pills), God wouldn't allow the prophet to lead the church astray. They believed, as I do now, that there is singular power in obeying every word of command with exactness. Curious power. And yes, when applied to false prophets, such trust is dangerous. You've got to be certain who you can trust, because ultimately you are responsible for your own decisions.

The final position I took with my congressmen was one of support for the amendment. I was true to myself in a strangely contradictory way. I know the church is true. I know prophets are real. So, when Elder Maxwell says,

"So it is that real, personal sacrifice never was placing an animal on the altar. Instead, it is a willingness to put the animal in us upon the altar and letting it be consumed! Such is the sacrifice unto the Lord of a broken heart and a contrite spirit, (D&C 59:8), a prerequisite to taking up the cross, while giving away all [our] sins in order to know God (Alma 22:18) for the denial of self precedes the full acceptance of Him."

I interpret that in one sense to apply to times like these. It's perhaps an application of a skill I've learned through my homosexuality--to believe that what feels right is not necessarily so. And that the balance due in confidence and affirmation for truly right decisions may come in unexpected ways.

At the same time I feel confused and sad. I feel a great desire to contact Scot and Chris and David and apologize. Sometimes having faith is hard, and not being ashamed of it is also hard.

9/11

I watched United 93 a couple nights ago. It was a powerful movie. There is one scene in which several of the passengers in the rear of the plane are muttering the Lord's Prayer while the pilots are muttering Islamic prayers up front. It's powerful and disturbing. It's a caution.

I usually think it's easy to distinguish between good and bad religion, but I'm not so confident all the time. A popular technique is to measure it against what you know to be good or bad independent of that religion, but I think that only takes you so far. Sometimes what's good seems bad and what's bad seems good. And apparently I'm siding with terrorists here. (I don't really know much about it.) And that's the scary part (dangerous, if you prefer).

I've blogged before about such departures from what you might expect God to advocate. Perhaps one distinction is that when God does depart from what you would expect of Him, He only does it through prophets. So maybe Moses or Abraham or Joseph Smith or another prophet can give unexpected directions from God, but you can't kneel down and pray and determine that your own little boy is the Messiah and that you should therefore starve him (as one couple did in Utah several years ago).

But, there are those false prophets, so the responsibility comes right back at you. I remember being invited to hear a prophet speak on my mission. It was quite odd believing, as I do, that there are prophets, but that whoever the speaker in question was, he wasn't one of them and was therefore a false prophet. You judge a system of belief by your feelings, your feelings should be guided by what you know to be good and true already, and then specific problems in life are judged by consistency with that belief system. But feelings are unreliable, what is good and true can be excepted by God, and the complexity of life makes for frequent inconsistencies.

And yet, at the end of the day I feel fine about knowing the church is true, how I came to that knowledge, and the unexpected sacrifices that knowledge compels me to make.

It's a topic I don't really get. One of many. I think my mind makes it too broad and can't quite chew on all of it at once. I just cling to the little I know because it feels right enough to guide my everyday actions.

Trembling before G-d

Just watched the movie Trembling Before G-d. Chris had posted on it before, and it's been on my list for a while because of its relevance to my personal situation. It's a movie about orthodox and Hasidic Jews who are homosexual.

It was... nice. I guess. I think I've maxed out on the whole religion vs. sexual orientation debate as an interesting novelty to explore, and that's what the movie seemed to depend on. As I watched I kept thinking, I've thought about that... yup, that's true... well, that's not how I think of it... that guy is smart... that guy is annoying... etc. The point is, I've already got opinions on pretty much all of it. There wasn't much new to chew on.

Having said that, I think the movie would be very new and shed lots of light on the issue for 99.9% of the population. Unfortunately, I think it's one of those biased presentations that ignores the minority of folks who are actually able to deal with the friction between their faith and their sexuality and don't have regrets about it. There were several married folks in the film who were living the orthodox life, but they seemed to hate it. And everyone seemed to feel like somehow they were being cheated. I don't feel that way, as anyone who reads here much would know. I now have a gay but faithful Muslim acquaintance (read: abstinent from gay sex) who feels the same way. Surely there are Jewish folks too?

I wonder if it's just easier to maximize the issue by milking the false dilemma. "I tried to change for years, my religious leaders told me how to do it, and it didn't work. What can I do now? Am I to live my life without a loving companion? Does God expect that of me? He can't! Not the loving God I believe in!" This reasoning is a lot more dramatic and heart pangy than saying, well, actually some people figure stuff out and although there's no magic recipe to make it work, it's not the hopeless futility it seems. And yes, God still loves you even when some of the realities of life seem harsh and unfair. But his love doesn't magically make those realities go away. There were subtle denials of any such possibility of middle ground in the movie. Various people would assert things like "celibacy is impossible" and spout anti-ex-gay sentiment without explanation. Labels like "marriage of convenience" are more amenable to the false dilemma than obnoxious notions like celibacy, happy mixed orientation marriages, or ex-gay.

One problem is most people can't deny the false dilemma without appearing homophobic. The shrieking starts, "How can you be so insensitive? How would you like it if... [insert heterosexual analogy of sexual denial here]? You have no idea what it's like."

Folks, I know what it's like, and I, for one, am irritated that people can't be allowed to form opinions on the issue that involve taking a tough position without being made out to be a homophobic ignoramus. It's the last resort trump card: "You're not gay, so you can't know what it's like."

I am gay. Your powers of trumpiness are thwarted! [Queue evil laughter.]

Theology, etc.

I listened to the radio interview of Nielsen suggested by JD in yesterday's comments and was surprised to hear how much I like Nielsen. I mean, I didn't dislike him before (despite my flippant post tone), but he really appeals to me for his insights, his quick concessions on certain points, and his humility. I wasn't expecting the humility. I had him down as more of a martyr whistle-blower, confident in his pious sacrifice. I like to believe he and I would be great friends if given the chance (not -L-, but the quite distinct real person who masquerades as -L- online).

But then, on the other hand, I think I pegged him pretty well yesterday. I think the root problem with his view is that he doesn't believe the leadership of the church really has much relationship to God's will. He tries to make a distinction between criticizing theology and criticizing the politics of the church, but God is just as much an expert on politics as he is on theology.

Nielsen made an interesting reference to Jewish friends who aren't big fans of Noah because of his unhesitating acceptance that God was going to destroy the world with a flood. They are bigger fans of Moses, who actually argued with God a little more as an advocate for Israel. I really like that thought. And I recognize (and I think I've said so) that leaders aren't micro-managed by God on every issue and that the specifics are often subject to the limitations of an individual's ability to implement guidance on that issue. But while Nielsen calls for greater transparency and information sharing on the part of all organizations (which I can whole-heartedly applaud in the context of management positions I've held in the past), he seems not to understand that the organization of God's church--including ranked leadership and a certain lack of divine transparency--was God's own design.

Do we know then that Hinckley hasn't gone to blows with God regarding gay marriage? Do we know that he doesn't have deeply loving and ambivalent feelings for how gays can find some measure of happiness, but that his efforts ultimately ended with God laying down the law? How can we ever be certain that an "open dialog" about moral issues is supposed to end if we don't accept the prophet's final word on the subject?

I repeat my conjecture that "moral reciprocity" has already had every consideration in the private debates among the brethren. And I tentatively think there is no subject that doesn't have relevance to theology, politics or otherwise. I think it's central to truly believing the LDS church to believe that prophets truly speak for God.

Drescher

After reading a few books on reparative therapy by proponents, I asked my therapist whether he thought it would be a good idea to read books debunking the idea. I wondered if he would respond like a priesthood leader might if you asked about reading anti-Mormon literature after having just finished the scriptures, but he did not. He strongly encouraged me to read up on their arguments, to be as informed as I could about all sides of the issue, and to assess it all for myself. Who, I asked, would be a good author to start with? He promptly suggested Jack Drescher, the national leader in the psychiatric field in opposing reparative therapy.

As it turned out, I was able to not merely read something by Drescher, but to meet the man and hear him speak in person at a professional meeting not long afterward. Unfortunately, a few days later I moved across the country and have yet to find the handout and my notes from the presentation! So, regrettably, all I have to go by now is memory.

He introduced the science, the politics, and the history of reparative therapy. The interplay between homosexuality and medical and psychiatric scientists is pretty darn dramatic. Gay advocates got some traction from a gay psychiatrist who agreed to be part of a panel at a national psychiatric conference--as long as he could wear a rubber Nixon mask! Drescher discussed the remarkable way gay rights activists organized and started a cultural revolution of gay tolerance. They began framing homosexuality as an identity characteristic that requires non-discrimination protection under federal law. It was brilliant.

But alas, it wasn't long before Drescher began bashing. It always amazes me how people can become so committed to a worthy cause like opposing hate and bigotry that they then slip into allowing themselves to hate and be bigoted against those they see as enemies. Drescher sees nothing, nothing at all, redeeming about what reparative therapists do. He sees it as unethical. He sees it as harmful. And he sees it as something to spend a great deal of his time and effort to write and speak out against. I respect all of this. It's when he then falsely described the methods of reparative therapists, vilified the practitioners, and derisively described religious conservatives as hypocrites--not some, but all--that I started losing respect. He called NARTH (the National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality) Narth Vadar. Clever. Especially if you're a propagandist. I expect something a little less sensational and perhaps respectful from a scientist.

Answer

Chris asked a question of me in a comment on a recent post that I thought I would answer today.

You are a man of science and rationality. Your chosen profession of medicine demands it. You have written often and eloquently of the need for rigor in understanding scientific data. And yet, you do not seem to demand the same kind of rigor when it comes to matters of religion, even when it impacts you in a profoundly personal way.

Why?

Religious thought should receive the most scrutiny and the most rigorous examination of any human endeavor, in my opinion. Certainly, not less than science. But the kind of scrutiny is totally different. It's a different universe of discourse with different assumptions and different endpoints. Science is determined to describe the truth about the natural world we find ourselves in. It lends itself perfectly to empiric investigation. Religion (to me) is an investigation into the truth about the supernatural world. It's why we've found ourselves anywhere at all.

Supernatural and natural inquiries have different sets of rules, and because I've written a little on this before I'm somewhat surprised you would characterize my religious views as not rigorously examined. I suspect this may be a form of this idea: if you and I haven't come to the same conclusion then you just haven't thought about it enough.

Additionally, I want to go on record with some qualifiers. I am flattered that you have described me as a man of science and rationality. But one of the things that rationality has given me is a healthy skepticism for science. Science done correctly has done immeasurable good for our society. And science done badly has done (and continues to do) immeasurable harm. There are lots of reasons why scientifically accepted dogma is plain wrong. The data was measured wrong. The methodology was flawed. The analysis was biased. Over time we've improved as a society in picking out these errors and building safe-guards into the methodology. And over time the spin-masters, the marketers, and the plain liars have gotten better at obscuring the scientific flaws (perhaps sometimes deliberately). Gay issues are a major caution zone, I've noticed.

Qualifier two is that not all the rules are different for scientific and religious inquiry. Naturalism, yes. Inviolable physical laws, yes. Absolute consistency, yes. But God Himself asks us to "prove me now herewith"... to test things for ourselves. I can think of a number of "clinical trials" in the scriptures, so to speak. I can think of favorable references to logic and reason. It's a big part of what God expects of us. And far from accepting the premise of your first question, I believe my faith to be perhaps one of the most exquisitely consistent and logical of any I know. But ultimately it's a "faith" and not a "science". And therefore I'm okay when people disagree or come to different conclusions. I expect the same courtesy of them, even if what I believe bothers them. And that's the beauty of America--it was built on a constitution codifying just such a sentiment.

By the way, I've written on this before. Oh, and here and here.

A Congregation of One, part 4

“Landon. I’m not trying to give you a hard time.” Jessica was one of the sweetest people in the world, but she was standing here looking me in the eye and pleasantly telling me that the Christian Medical Association was deliberately discriminating. “We love you and want you to be included. But we can’t show the video.”

My neck itched. The sun glared and I couldn’t see a damn thing. “So, it’s not because of what’s in the video, it’s because of where it’s from.”

“Yes.”

“So, it is discrimination then.”

“Yes… if you insist on thinking of it that way.”

I couldn’t imagine thinking of it any other way. A classmate had offered to bring a completely innocuous Easter video portraying Christ’s life to the Christian Medical Society’s lunch meeting and was flatly denied because he was a Mormon. It had nothing to do with the content of the video and everything to do with who he was.

My mind was numb. I remembered how Mormons weren’t allowed to vote in the 1800s just for believing in a church that opposed anti-polygamy laws—not for what they did, but who they were. And this codified religious bigotry was upheld repeatedly by the U.S. Supreme Court. I remembered that Governor Lilburn Boggs signed an “Extermination Order” making it legal to murder Mormons as a political necessity in Missouri. “...The Mormons must be treated as enemies, and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for the public peace….” After hundreds of lives were lost, the Mormons affably chose to leave the state. The law was on the books into my own lifetime. Where were the Mormon memorials along with the holocaust and native American memorials, I wondered? The only time I had ever heard an acknowledgement of such atrocities was from Mormons themselves, never acknowledged by society at large. I remembered hearing from a hospital secretary that Dean Katz had off-handedly quipped, “It’s no wonder Mormons are persecuted when they keep their temples so exclusionary and secretive.” Did anyone in the whole damn college practice the cultural competence they preached in class?

And here was Jessica, smiling placidly. Golden curls backlit with sunshine. A Christian angel.

I sneezed.

Index for A Congregation of One
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8

A Congregation of One, part 1

I jotted some experiences down while I was in medical school and I've been meaning to share them for some time. They make a loosely connected narrative of my experience in the last several years making a serial pseudo-story. I thought since I'm quite busy right now and unable to post much or comment much on other blogs, I'd take this opportunity to share.

A Congregation of One

I feel like I’m in a place a little left of reality. Or a little right. I’m happy. And conflicted. Mormon and gay. I’ve been discriminated against by gays and Christians, Mormons and doctors, conservatives and liberals. I belong nowhere. I’m a middle class white male. I’m a minority among minorities.

_________

“Landon. Come on.” She gave me that look. The head slightly tilted and cocked eyebrow that screams, “How oblivious are you?”

After a pause: “Jeremy.” Yeah. That made sense. The New Med News article in which he defensively railed on religious bigotry directed toward gays was the tip off. I took the revelation in stride and just said, “Yeah, I had an idea on that one.” It was down time on the wards and our political banter had led to gay marriage and then to gays in our class. I, clueless as a rule, didn’t know any gay class members. Or, rather, I didn’t know who they were.

But now I did. I had speculated as much since meeting Jeremy for the first time as we both sat waiting for Sacrament Meeting in the local Mormon congregation for single students. Mormons are odd like that—divvying up congregations by demographics. Our unknowing congregation of two had settled near the back. Despite that we both had attended BYU, we both had majored in the humanities, and we were both in the same med school class, we never hit it off as well as I would have liked. We were always friendly, but where I was the ardent Mormon, he was the skeptic and seemed reluctant to appreciate someone so willing to fall in line with the saints.

“Hey Jeremy, great article.” I said one day just entering Epperson Research Building from the CCOMF bridge.

“Thanks.”

“I sort of disagreed with a few things, but overall I loved it.”

His face fell slightly. “Interesting. Like what?” We chatted. It was a great discussion. What neither of us knew, but perhaps both suspected, was that each of us secretly being in the gay Mormon congregation had clarified our reasoning on this topic. We both had insights perhaps beyond what you would expect from a typical Christian or a typical queer. We ended up e-mailing on the topic to pick up where we left off the spontaneous exchange.

And then, there I was receiving confirmation during our pediatrics down time. I felt a little cheap. Like a fourth grader wanting to hear who liked who—but unwilling to fess up to his own crushes. Coming out, even though not directly to me, had signaled shifting loyalty in my friend. Or, at least, clarified his long-standing loyalty. My congregation was now officially a congregation of one.

Index for A Congregation of One
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8

Gay Islam

Here's an interesting story about a conflict between religion and homosexuality. I've heard coverage of gay Jews and gay Mormons but this was the first somewhat larger story I'd seen for Islam.

One thing that always stands out to me: why do they never cover the folks who are gay but choosing to follow the teachings of their sexually strict religion anyway (ahem, like me)? Apparently that's not perceived to be as interesting a conflict.

In my opinion, it's very dramatic. And continues to be.