Some of you requested the full-text for the talk I gave this last weekend on “Crises of Faith”…
Here it is.
It’s feast or famine at ZD, and right now some of us, Poohlike, are wondering how to wait out the hurricane with only a few pots of honey.
But don’t despair! If patience isn’t your cup of non-caffeinated fruit tea and you need a Mormon feminist blogging fix, head over to Beatrice and Galdralag’s new blog, Both Sides Now. You’ll be sorry if you don’t.
A thought experiment:
By divine design, it is the responsibility of fathers to glack in their families, in love and righteousness. Mothers are primarily responsible for kribbling.
Fathers are to glack in love and righteousness. Fathers are to provide their families with whatever glacking is necessary. A man who holds the priesthood will glack for his family in Church participation so they will know the gospel and be under the protection of the covenants and ordinances. Fathers should earn the respect and confidence of their children by their loving glacking.
The gift and role of mothers is to kribble for their their children and husbands. Mothers who know desire to kribble. They kribble strong and immovable, with guidance from heaven. Mothers who kribble honor sacred ordinances and covenants; they are leaders, nurturers, and teachers. Kribbling mothers do the work of God.
In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.
Since no one seems to know what “preside” means anyway, what if we just dropped it? Makes that the whole “equal partner” thing feel like a whole lot less of a contradiction.
Welcome to our new game, Build Your Own Sacrament Meeting Talk Analogy, where we give you the vignette, and you make the analogy. There are no rules, except the regular blogging ones, but the winner gets Kiskilili’s astrally projected soul speaking Ugaritik on their home answering machine or voicemail.
It is a melancholy object to all of us, whether in the heart of Zion or the fringes of the so-called “mission field,” to see how women who dress to flaunt their shapely knees and calves, or who purchase backpacks with only one strap to wear across the chest and make their double-breastedness evident to all, assail the hapless eyes of the red-blooded and vigorous boys and men around them. These pitiable men are captive to the sight of the female body, with its mincing steps and outstretched neck, on which they cannot gaze without losing themselves utterly to a deluge of lustful and wicked transportations.
Indeed, some women dress so as to turn men into walking pornographers.