Growing up, I think I basically imagined God as being somewhat akin to a General Authority. In my mind, he (male, of course) was a generally benevolent older man. He wasn’t mean, necessarily, but he did have very clear expectations of how people should act, and would be disappointed if you didn’t meet those expectations. He would lecture when necessary, if he felt like you needed it. He would be patient, sure, but he also had a clearly defined plan for you, and wasn’t very interested in your opinions or ideas about how things were going, because you needed to get on board and follow the plan. God didn’t particularly care about your feelings, for heaven’s sake; he cared about accomplishing his grand purposes. I mean, he might listen politely and maybe even acknowledge what you said, but ultimately he wanted you to get with the program and get over yourself.
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What makes an ordinance count?
I read an article recently about a Catholic priest who was found to have been saying a wrong word when he performed baptisms, and that he had been doing so since 1995. His dioceses has declared that this makes all the baptisms he performed invalid, and all subsequent rites (such as marriage) also invalid, because they are supposed to be preceded by baptism.
I’m interested in how a similar finding would play out in a Mormon context. Of course, we don’t have anyone whose job it is to baptize like a Catholic priest does. I’m guessing most child-of-record baptisms are performed by the child’s father when he’s available and a priesthood holder, and most convert baptisms are performed by male missionaries. Perhaps the closest we get would be a temple sealer, who could perform hundreds or thousands of sealings. So what would happen if it were discovered that a sealer had said a wrong word in thousands of sealings?
I think the answer hinges on whether we see ordinances as being more like magic spells, or more like parts of a relationship between us and God. If an ordinance is like a magic spell, it’s crucial that the words be said exactly right. The ordinance, spoken by someone with the proper authority, is operating on the world in the way that a chemistry experiment or a baking recipe does. The cake you’re making doesn’t care about your intent. It cares that you put the right ingredients together in the right way and bake the result at the right temperature for the right amount of time. If, on the other hand, the ordinance is part of a relationship, then the exact wording doesn’t matter so much. We’re doing it to show our commitment to God, in front of our community, and so long as both understand what our intent is, then getting the words exactly right might not be crucial.
Finally Leaving
I still remember a Sunday when I was a young teenager, when the bishop felt impressed to get up at the end of sacrament meeting and share some counsel. I don’t remember any of the specifics of what he said. But I remember how he concluded his talk: in a voice of utter certainty, he said, “This is the will of the Lord for this ward.” And I loved that he said that. It made me feel so safe. God was aware of and interested in our ward, so tiny in comparison to the great vast world. God would send direction through priesthood leadership about even small decisions and issues. Weren’t we lucky to have that, while other people had to deal with uncertainty and doubt. We had a sure connection to God. Read More
Practical Infallibility
We in the LDS church are fond of pointing out that we don’t believe in prophetic infallibility. At least in theory, we see prophets as human beings who sometimes make mistakes, and don’t expect them to be perfect. However, I’m not entirely clear as to what exactly what this means on a practical level. And the more I’ve thought about this, the more I’ve wondered whether we don’t believe in what I might term “practical infallibility.” In other words, while we reject infallibility as a theological proposition, in practice, it is difficult to see how our approach differs from a belief in infallibility.