AGE OF INNOCENCE
To set the stage, the onset of 2001 brought continuation of an odd relationship. This, in brief, is but preliminary to the real events of the year, so please bear with me, realizing that failed romance is invariably upstaged by more pressing concerns in my life! The previous semester, I had been in a German class which paired us off with secret partners. Nearly the whole class began to follow the prolific conversation which I conducted with mine via Blackboard. (There’s only one person on earth who has ever evoked German poetry from me!) Once we each had discovered who the other person was, we continued to communicate. Before long, we had "day dates," or whatever you call them. However, it soon became apparent that I was helping her fill time before her missionary came home. Yet one day she had told me she saw potential in us; immediately afterward, she fled emotionally, and it was never the same again. I didn’t know that my own unfamiliarity with having a girl want to spend time with me was destroying some objectivity on whether it was a good idea, in any event. My good friend was correct in observing that she was treating me like a "eunuch" in her court. That Valentine’s Day, I finally declined to attend her little party. (My parents were proud of me.) That triggered a series of events in which she was clearly incensed with me. I made the mistake of replying with a great deal of honesty about how she made me feel, and it was, all told, actually a fairly ugly ending. These days, she’s slightly famous, but not for anything I’d consider worthwhile. She was really nothing much to wink at. God preserves us from winding up with the wrong people.
My father is capable of exceptional honesty. He it was who first warned me that the girl in question wasn’t really worthy of my attentions, and he would be among the first to issue a similar warning in later years. It can be frustrating, really, when someone anticipates trouble before you can take a step or two in any direction. ;-) (It’s somewhat telling that he more or less agrees that traditional dating doesn’t suit me. He would rather I didn’t attempt it, for my own health. He and my mother were both wrong, though, about my move back to Provo in the summer of 2008, which proved healthy except for my lingering about four months beyond expiration.) At any rate, while Dad was slightly brusque about my need to brush myself off and get back into life again, upon hearing one demeaning statement the girl had made, he responded, "She obviously didn’t know you, Kris." That has become my watchcry to every rejection I’ve experienced since that time—except for one peculiar situation, in which the girl knew me well enough that she didn’t feel she could ever bridge our own gap, not that she gave me a chance to assist. (More than one person has commented that she gave up on herself, not on me.) That summer of 2001, I did recover, and rapidly at that. While continuing to work for a publishing company, I privately wrote a 200+ page manuscript on Matthew 5:48. God is a refuge and a sanctuary.
As summer changed to fall and I was pieced back together well enough to think of academic pursuits again, I happened to be stood up on a date for the second time. I dismissed this: not as happenstance, but as irrelevant. There are always things I could change. I have no doubt I could convey a more "confident" (read optimistic in its stead, and you’re not far from the truth) exterior, but the fact remains that my interior was sufficiently given over to God that I could confidently reply, "She obviously didn’t know me."
It was about this time that I began intense study of Church periodicals in the BYU library which I had not been able previously to obtain for my own library. My studies had already been in earnest for many years. If there was a school dance or something, I’d only sequester myself for that much longer. From that was also born another of my mottoes, phrased in various ways, but in effect: I’m going to have more to show for this evening than disappointment. I also was apparently the only student who ever regularly stopped by certain offices in the Joseph Smith Building and asked to borrow certain old Conference Reports, which I would read outside in the hallway and then return. I had many positive associations with professors who would stop and talk with me there. Once a fellow declared that he’d seen me in the temple the other day. He didn’t understand my perplexity about when that was, seeing as I’d attended several nights in a row. This is why a year later, one roommate forced reluctant agreement from me that I could afford to attend the temple less and go on more dates. (I hated admitting that when I felt emotional pressure rising, I’d rearrange all my affairs to rush off to the temple—not, of course, to the exclusion of duties and obligations.) All the same, I’ve never regretted a temple trip, and dating has yet to yield anything of eternal value! ;-) In many instances, the deceased (ever and always kindred) have been decidedly kinder. Furthermore, I can’t say books have been more beneficial than people, but I can without hesitation say they’ve been more beneficial than dates, to date.
As for those who’ve declared to me that single guys should never take girls to the temple, I retort that they’ve formed odd conceptions about the mingling of the sexes since baptism for the dead days at 12. Were they flirting then? I’ve been on enough "dates" that didn’t play to my strengths. The temple is one of my only safe zones, practically the only security on earth. It’s the most uplifting activity I can imagine, and so much more fun than what most youth do these days! Only an inexperienced idiot would confuse feelings of lust with the Spirit, or conjure up some impression that they must marry someone solely based on such outings. Believe me, I was once stuck with someone who talked like she appreciated the temple, but never would go. If there ever happened to be a chance I could marry, it stands to reason I’d need a pool of good women with whom I associate who actually enjoy going to the temple, though that would hardly be the determining factor. Besides, I need their help for female ordinances. What’s more, I wouldn’t even WANT to cozy up in the Celestial Room!
SATAN’S SEMESTER
On September 2, I received unusual forewarning "that I ‘may be on higher planes’ than my teachers, but to bear patiently with what I’m asked to learn and write. I should only stir things up if a matter of true principle is crossed." This ominous admonition proved to be the theme of the semester. Two days later, I sat in a "Literature of the LDS People" classroom as the teacher dragged us through atrocious stories, which for no apparent reason had to cover such topics as animal mutilation. He was proud of his work picked up by Signature Books, which he self-proclaimed to be the "Sunstone" of publishing. Sunstone is universally understood to be among those "symposia and other similar gatherings that include presentations that (1) disparage, ridicule, make light of, or are otherwise inappropriate in their treatment of sacred matters or (2) could injure the Church, detract from its mission, or jeopardize its members’ well-being." By some torturous reasoning I never could understand, he touted that we would be studying some anti-Mormon writings as well. He expanded the definition of "LDS literature" to incorporate anything by someone who had once been LDS, or pretty much was about the LDS at all. It was not our task to "question testimonies." To this, I raised my hand and said it’s one thing to struggle with your testimony and it’s assuming an entirely different level of accountability to publish such a struggle.
He was going to tell me that I don’t understand LDS literature if I haven’t read the writings of an author whom Presidents Kimball and Lee agreed produced trash? At that point in time, it was quite possible I’d already studied more doctrine than anyone else in that room (in particular the teacher), and he was suggesting that I hadn’t truly experienced "LDS literature." One girl protested vigorously, saying that they sometimes had to look at harsh things in her psychology studies, but nothing approached the negative spirit connected with what he was teaching. She got up and left. If she weren’t wearing a ring, I would have followed and asked her out on the spot. Long story short, I wanted something done about the situation. Not just to hold my own ground, but to deprive the teacher of some of his in a world gone mad. Merely dropping the class myself would leave plenty of sheep at the mercy of a wolf. In common with all anti-Christs, he was a master of language, posing actively as a friend, possibly even deceiving himself into that belief regarding his intentions. From the time that they joined the Church, my parents had hoped my sister and I would be able to attend BYU. This was not part of their hopes for us, to say nothing of being foreign to the tone from the Board of Regents.
I determined to write a letter spelling out what he had said. I really and truly did not know who the dean of the English Department was at the time, but I had the strong and distinct impression that the problem was pervasive enough that I should ignore the chain of command. In an unusual breach of protocol, I composed a letter directly to President Bateman. In it, I pointed out my concern that by driving out sensitive students on the first day (a very sinister ploy), he thereby avoided a balanced end-of-the-semester evaluation, so I intended to give mine up front and then save myself the damage of taking his course. His response was very polite, thanked me for the "thoughtful and concerned" letter, and (as a copy was sent to the dean) actually urged the dean to consider it in addressing his associates, and maybe even to take it up with the teacher in question. Two weeks later, he made some observations in a devotional which will prove still more relevant in upcoming paragraphs:
If you are a young person, it is especially important that you have the light and faith to make right decisions, to discern good from evil, to hold onto and develop the things that the Lord has in store for you. It is interesting that Satan offered Adam and Eve the opportunity to know good and evil (see Genesis 3:5). In contrast, Mormon indicates the purpose of mortality is to help us to "know good from evil" (Moroni 7:19; emphasis added). One can know evil without tasting it. . . .
The most important function of Brigham Young University is to provide you with an enlightened environment. I have heard some complain—primarily people outside the Church—that this campus does not provide enough choice. Since choice is made possible by opposites, the logical conclusion of their statement is that there is too much light at BYU and not enough darkness. They seem to suggest that we should "search in the dark"—at least part of the time—to prepare for the "real" world. Last week’s events suggest that there is enough evil in the world without inviting it into our lives. Moreover, Mormon’s words suggest that one need not partake of evil in order to gain knowledge. . . .
So, regardless of where you are, search in the light. It is better to search in the light of day assisted by knowledgeable friends than at night with Lucifer holding the flashlight. . . .
In the end, the opportunity to acquire spiritual knowledge will depend on your sensitivity to the Spirit. (Learning in the Light of Faith [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 2005], 211, 221)
It just so happens that I had a course that semester with the dean. He was miffed, and sent what was unmistakably a condescending letter. He assured me that he always instructed his teachers to instruct by the Spirit (therefore, it must happen), and reminded me that the scriptural mandate was "if thy brother or sister offend thee, thou shalt take him or her between him or her and thee alone" (D&C 42:88). I bit my tongue in the instantaneous reaction that: a) this silken-speaking man would never acknowledge ANY student as his peer; b) the sheer extent and monstrosity of his speech indicated that he was already in the camp more fit to "deliver . . . up unto the church" (D&C 42:89); and c) that the principle more likely at play in his case was "if any one offend openly, he or she shall be rebuked openly, that he or she may be ashamed" (D&C 42:91). I had not considered this a personal affront at all. As Lorenzo Snow stated, "When the Priesthood [or Church] is assailed, we should be more valiant in its defense than when the offense is merely personal" (in Eliza R. Snow, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow, 109). I’d actually had the nerve to briefly quote, in a friendly spirit, to President Bateman, from George Q. Cannon in expressing my feelings about the man’s course: "I made it a point never to read books or papers which villify [sic] this people. I really have too little time to read the works and papers which are instructive and pleasant to me, and with which I ought to be familiar, to spend one moment of time in reading abusive, lying and slanderous writings concerning this people or myself" (JD, 17:126). It was around this time that I first began having frequent recourse to one of President McKay’s statements:
Men in Israel, it is time that we take a stand against vile literature. . . . It is the duty of the parent also to keep the boy’s mind from becoming polluted with the vile trash that is sometimes scattered—nay, that is daily distributed among us. There is inconsistency in a man’s kneeling down with his family in prayer, and asking God to bless the leader of our Church, and then put into the hands of the boy, who was kneeling there, a paper that calls the leader a hypocrite. . . .At any rate, the dean closed his letter with the insinuation that so long as we can’t get along as a people, we’ll never be effective with the world. This in large part prompted my quotation from numerous sources in a subsequent talk that there is such a thing as unity in evildoing (remember all those secret combinations, Sodom, Gomorrah, or Babel itself?), but for us the clear counsel is "have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them" (Ephesians 5:11). When Paul was shut out by one apostate bishop’s haughtiness, it’s lamentable that the congregation united with him in rejection of the greater light. I’ve also noted how often it’s been driven home in my life that there are nonmembers who speak to me of an honestly ethical life, independently of our differences, while many a sly member has put their arm around me, metaphorically speaking, to discourse on a dishonestly unethical life. I get along famously with the honest in heart, whether they’ve found the truth yet or not.
May be [sic] those are the great men who are writing the scurrilous articles, and these whom they attack are not the great men? Some may say: Give the children an opportunity to hear both sides. Yes, that is all well and good; but if a man were to come into your home and say to you that your mother is not a good woman, you would know he lied; wouldn’t you? And you wouldn’t let your children hear him. If a man came and told you that your brother was dishonest, and you had been with him all your life and knew him to be honest, you would know the man lied. So when they come and tell you the Gospel is a hypocritical doctrine, taught by this organization, when they tell you the men at the head are insincere, you know they lie; and you can take the same firm stand on that, being sincere yourself[,] as you could in regard to your mother and brother. Teach your children, your boys and girls everywhere, to keep away from every bad book and all bad literature, especially that which savors of hatred, or envy, or malice, that which bears upon it the marks of hypocrisy, insincerity, edited by men who have lost their manhood. (CR, Oct. 1908, 112)
I’m reminded of the summer many, many years ago when I stayed with my fourth cousin and her husband, elderly, enthusiastic genealogists. The husband constantly praised how healthy and pleasant the Mormons were, and was pleased as punch when a repairman turned out to be a member and told me where the nearest meetinghouse was. Regrettably, it was too far away for them to transport me, so this good man decided that we should all go make new friends that Sunday. Imagine a Baptist and a Mormon attending a Mennonite service in central Georgia! I didn’t feel compromised in the least, especially as we gathered in a trailer afterward and these very, very fine people talked about all the conservative values that many "mainstreamers" out in the world have forgotten. My cousin and I fervently agreed with a quotation they read from one of their ancestors, and then from Menno Simons. This wasn’t the quotation, but I thought I’d share something neat that Simons wrote: "And although infants have neither faith nor baptism, think not therefore that they are lost. O no! they are saved, for they have the Lord’s own promise of the Kingdom of God; not indeed through any element, ceremony or external rites, but only by grace through Jesus Christ."
I well remember an elderly Mennonite woman who came up and wanted to make sure I understood thoroughly how much Jesus loved me. That’s right: there was more of the devil’s kingdom in that classroom at BYU under a wormtongue’s tutelage than out in the woods of Georgia surrounded by those not of my faith. My biggest issue is with those who willfully choose not to know better, especially the traitors to the faith who spread their confusion. I finally vented this in a dream in November 2007, wherein I thwarted the designs of two devilish men and then shouted at no one in particular, "I HATE FALSE DOCTRINE!" Around the time I was having all these troubles, more of which will soon be detailed, I also had a British poetry class with Leslie Norris. He was a delightful man with all the gentility and gentleness of a countryside poet, who wrote with an elegant Welsh script and spoke softly. He also wasn’t LDS. When I dropped a Brigham Young quotation in response to some passage, I believe either Coleridge or Wordsworth, he replied that it was a beautiful thought and added a secular quotation to the general idea, which I was grateful to have. However, with a different teacher (who will soon be portrayed), when I quoted Brigham Young in a sense with absolutely direct bearing on the topic about which I was supposed to write—keep in mind, this is at Brigham Young University—she was merely confused and wondered what it had to do with anything (perhaps because I wasn’t sustaining her position).
Anyway, I stuck with the course I had under the dean of the English Department. I imagine at first it frustrated him a great deal that I was far too amiable to resemble the warped person he believed he’d just put in his place. Don’t worry—he frustrated me, too. He made much ado for months in every possible comment to me that no man should presume to correct another until he has mastered himself. Oh, how I wanted to say, "Right back at you, mister!" In fact, like so much else in life, I endured quite a long semester, though his class was not my biggest concern. Still, I was rather annoyed at the considerable care he put into always arranging dialog which seemed to dichotomize matters of faith on purpose. One of his favorite expressions was once utilized by B.H. Roberts:
I wish I knew who it was that said, "In essentials let there be unity; in non-essentials, liberty; and in all things, charity." But if I ever knew who said it I cannot now remember who it was, and I don’t know that it matters, because the beauty and truth of the utterance is self-evident. It is one of those things which the world has accepted into its literature as being true and sensible, and it matters little who said it since it does not require other authority than the thing itself to commend it to men. (CR, Oct. 1912, 30)
I won’t contend that there are no adiaphora (non-essentials) in religion, but it’s refreshing that at that same Conference (pp. 63-64), Charles W. Penrose of the First Presidency (a very distant cousin of mine through Welsh ancestry), once referred to by Joseph F. Smith as his scriptorian, took that quotation to task as "very attractive at first sight and first hearing." He wound up with, "liberty in essentials—that is, the liberty to receive or reject when a principle or doctrine or idea is presented to us; we have the liberty to receive it and we have the liberty to reject it, but we take the consequences of our own act because we are responsible beings, intelligent beings, and there is a day appointed in which all people shall be judged for the deeds done in the body."
This English dean was one of those who loved to take the Satan in Milton’s work as his hero. I recorded in my journal, "The teacher and some student tried to say that Satan’s ‘unconquerable will’ at least is praiseworthy. I also find such a phrase in Alma 52:33, and it still only strikes me as stubbornness or zeal in abomination." He hosted insuperably interminable discussions about how one can truly have freedom regarding the wrong choice when all they’ve ever made is the "right" choice, along with truly pointless discussions about how it could be fair to condemn people who didn’t know everything about the light when they settle for the darkness, and speculation about hell. I wanted to "play God’s advocate" and ask how much liberty remains to someone who propels themself into the Grand Canyon, and why spend so long on a fate of which God—surely smarter than any professor—has spoken that "the end thereof, neither the place thereof, nor their torment, no man knows; Neither was it revealed, neither is, neither will be revealed unto man, except to them who are made partakers thereof" (D&C 76:45-46). I say this only because of the extreme liberties and many hours put into going well beyond even what Milton artistically depicted.
The teacher was starting to sound like Satan: "Knowledge forbidd’n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith?" (Paradise Lost, 4.514-527). My dissent was not a product of inattention to the text! I wished we’d have more fruitful conversation (searching "in the light," as it were)! One day it was a tremendous relief when a fellow student was waiting for me outside, having recognized in me a kindred intelligence. That good man, who I believe went on to strengthen the law profession, shared an extreme impatience with the actually stupid discussions of those who prefer debating obedience to discovery through practice.
On another occasion, this teacher felt the need to end a class with the statement that we should believe whatever we wanted to about a certain subject, just not to let it affect our salvation. It also just so happens that Joseph Fielding Smith taught that what one believes about this matter would inevitably affect our salvation, and President Benson counted it among the falsehoods in crying need of combating. One of my best friends—who will appear elsewhere in this roving narrative—occasionally implied that I should put a filter on my holy zeal, and outright stated that I should be more patient with this professor. In one of life’s little ironies, some years later my friend ended up in the dean’s ward, with the former dean as Gospel Doctrine teacher. In telling me of this situation, he first talked about the extraordinary number who feel that just because the Brethren are polite, the mike is open for discussion on matters about which there’s really no discussion. Then he proceeded to tell me how this teacher spent countless time exploring scriptural characters’ human foibles rather than telling the story in any faith-promoting, productive fashion. With a weary sigh, he conveyed to me as strongly as was necessary, an apology for not understanding how much patience it took to bear with the man.
It’s important, albeit not all-important, as it doesn’t confer authority by itself, to note that this friend taught institute for decades and spent some time on the Sunday School General Board. I’ve made it a point for years to teach that every gospel student’s responsibility is to "trust no one to be your teacher nor your minister, except he be a man of God, walking in his ways and keeping his commandments" (Mosiah 23:14), and every teacher’s responsibility, certainly when in church, is to consider himself appointed by the Savior to teach for that limited segment of time what the Savior wants His followers to learn. However much we may like the intellectually stimulating or the novel, that was not Jesus’ purpose in teaching.
But the primary antagonist that Fall 2001 was my Persuasive Writing teacher. She chose all the hot topics and made it apparent from the outset that it would gratify her immensely if the students argued from the wrong side of the equation. I have since then learned that many great men, including Abraham Lincoln and Woodrow Wilson, adamantly refused to ever advocate for a position in which they did not believe. Ours is the task to find God’s truth and then remain steadfast in it. It was with considerable displeasure that I had to finish one response paper, which I opened with language similar to Elder Oaks’: "We rely on the prophets of God, who have told us that while there may be ‘rare’ exceptions, ‘the practice of elective abortion is fundamentally contrary to the Lord's injunction, "Thou shalt not . . . kill, nor do anything like unto it" (D&C 59:6).’ (Supplement to the 1989 General Handbook of Instructions, Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1991, 1.)" (With Full Purpose of Heart [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 2002], 32). It was astonishing to see the students fawning at her feet, who in a display of what Joseph F. Smith called "unwise sympathies" would permit exceptional accounts of pathos to overrule the teachings fundamental to Brigham Young University. However she stated it, she was not trying to assist their articulation against the common foe—she was enlisting them in his favor.
I employed the plain language of the gospel against her stances often, if nothing else to encourage her to choose whom she served and come out openly with her declaration as to actual allegiance. That is in large measure why she resisted my use of prophetic quotes. Curiously, one year earlier I had completed an intense personal study in the failures of many Christian denominations to meet the challenge two generations earlier of liberalism, which one author astutely identified as a competing religion which excelled at making inroads in a chameleon fashion. I adapted one analogy, as she was particularly attuned to politics, in declaring that no secret member of an independent party should by right be sent to represent the Democrats or Republicans and then proceed to demolish the entire platform, all the while calling oneself by an assumed stripe.
President Benson once, in speaking at BYU, quoted an admiral on this process: "Here we should recall the warning of the late Dean Inge: ‘History seems to show that the powers of evil have won their greatest triumphs by capturing the organizations which were formed to defeat them, and that when the devil has thus changed the contents of the bottles, he never alters the labels. The fort may have been captured by the enemy, but it still flies the flag of its defenders.’" Many descriptions of the original apostasy describe a revolution that stealthily took out the leadership and supplanted their guidance. I don’t doubt that it was important to her to have a class discussion about the harmful use of labels, making sure that "liberal" made it to the top of the list. Switching out identities is a readymade method for winning lots of debates. None of this clearcut identification of what something actually is, for President Lee sent many packing when he boldly declared (THBL, 394):
Unfortunately, some are among us who claim to be Church members but are somewhat like the scoffers in Lehi’s vision—standing aloof and seemingly inclined to hold in derision the faithful who choose to accept Church authorities as God’s special witnesses of the gospel and His agents in directing the affairs of the Church.We should be liberal with our means, not our minds. Early on, in private conversation with me—for I thought I’d give a go of the whole between one person and the other thing—she professed to me that it was an extreme sense of watchcare for her students that led her to "prepare" them for what they might encounter institutionally, say, back East. Would that be by giving them an exact duplication of the experience? Might as well destroy or dampen their faith here, so it’s not done by someone else? Soon her pretenses dropped, and I realized it was something like a declaration of warfare, done in such a guarded and subtle manner that I wound up summarizing it on the end-of-semester evaluation as "a war of attrition." I could almost outlast the forces of nature. ;-) Her avowed goal was "to change [my] mind." She utterly failed, as I don’t do that at the behests of messengers who speak contrary to the will of the Father. I often caught her attempting to cross me in my words, setting traps, and seeking openings of any logical fallacy, perceived or actual, in any defense I might make.
There are those in the Church who speak of themselves as liberals who, as one of our former Presidents has said, "read by the lamp of their own conceit" (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1939], p. 373). One time I asked one of our Church educational leaders how he would define a liberal in the Church. He answered in one sentence: "A liberal in the Church is merely one who does not have a testimony."
Dr. John A. Widtsoe, former member of the Quorum of the Twelve and an eminent educator, . . . . said: "The self-called liberal [in the Church] is usually one who has broken with the fundamental principles or guiding philosophy of the group to which he belongs. . . . He claims membership in an organization but does not believe in its basic concepts; and sets out to reform it by changing its foundations. . . ."
One common tactic of such "liberal" underminers is taking isolated scripture, wresting it, and pummeling their opposition therewith. I recall one peer session to review each other’s papers, wherein they—floored—conceded that mine was not even of the same substance (or lack thereof) as theirs. I utilized the very same scripture one fellow had used and, in combination with many others and general authority direction, arrived at almost the exact diametric opposite conclusion. One girl queried whether I was majoring "in theology." I promise, I’m not refining this blog account at all. I’m not even trying to be persuasive here; I figure even the receptive are repulsed by the sheer length anyway. The teacher stopped exposing my ideology to my classmates. I would have been amused by another analogy I read contemporaneously with such experiences, if it didn't ring so depressingly true:
Many years ago, I had the great pleasure of serving as second counselor in the Sunday School presidency, with specific responsibility for what was then the Junior Sunday School. Each Sunday I would watch a particular father bring his son to Sunday School. The boy would be crying and screaming, begging not to be turned over to the teacher. I watched the father take him up to his classroom, push him through the door, and then hold the doorknob on the other side so the son could not leave, while inside the classroom the boy’s teacher tried to comfort him. It was almost as if the father were saying, "I haven’t the patience or the time to train this young man. I am turning him over to you, teacher, to teach him how to be reverent in his Sunday School class."How sad that so many unprepared children were taken up by a "sympathizer" within the room, one who provoked their very outcry and directed it against the authorities! The pulse of ignorance was channeled as a roar of hostility, somehow seeking to alter or eliminate the very things that promise happiness. This manifested itself shortly in a most insidious form. One day she brought out her prized document, a piece that appeared many years earlier in the Daily Universe. A professor had written in that BYU was too selective in its forums/devotionals and repressive in its code of conduct, urging from the "opposition in all things" that "a lack of risk is present." She also used this as a springboard to launch an attack on the dress code, and I kid you not. True to form, we didn’t study a single opposing piece—so much for developing rudimentary forensic ability. (At the time this first came out, another professor made an able counterargument for BYU’s integrity...in a devotional, no less, apparently being trustworthy enough. There is a possible allusion in some of the prophet’s remarks as well.) It’s also noteworthy that the same friend mentioned earlier got a look at what he called that "puerile" document and remarked that I was probably the only student in that class strong enough to withstand its enticement.
I had almost the same feeling some time ago when I spent a few hours with the president of Brigham Young University. I had asked for an appointment to discuss with him what the priesthood could do to help students live in accordance with the honor code at BYU. The honor code (which all BYU students agree to follow while attending the university) specifies acceptable and unacceptable behaviors for students at that institution. As I listened to the leader of that great university, I was reminded of my experience in Junior Sunday School many years ago. I had the feeling that many parents were bringing their children to the doorstep of BYU, pushing them through the door, then holding onto the doorknob, expecting the university to assume the responsibility for training up their children.
This same feeling comes to me occasionally when I interview missionaries who are experiencing difficulties in the mission field. Some parents must think, "If only we can send our child on a mission, it will make up for the many years we have neglected to teach him or her the principles of the gospel." . . . (L. Tom Perry, Enthusiasm [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1996], 15-16)
On September 27, when we returned to class having read this assignment, which I summed up as breathing a spirit hostile to our religion, she exuberantly played to the audience, "Who liked it?" I’m pretty sure that at least 90-95% of the hands went up. Then, with a slight scowl on her brow, looking in my direction, she asked, "Who didn’t like it?" Up went my hand, prominently and, to my mind, reminiscent of the sustaining gesture of which I felt this was a part and parcel. I stood alone, and somehow she was taken aback. The only cute girl in the class wouldn’t even look me in the eyes thereafter, but I had no chance with women anyway, and why sell out for someone whose soul is sold out? My forebears never worried about how the deck was stacked against them, so why should I, with access to the fulness of the everlasting gospel? She attempted to move on quickly, but someone raised their hand and said, "I want to know why Kris disagreed." I had a brief opportunity to explain that my agency was in full enjoyment and exercise in the blessing and privilege of attending BYU and upholding its institutions. What I signed to enter its doors, I did with full knowledge and accountability, and considered it binding like a covenant.
I could not rest simply with that defense, as there was a burning in my bones. Later, at home, I woke up from a deep sleep and immediately cranked out a seven page rebuttal to the offensive article. It was no masterpiece and I had to draw on the resources then at my disposal. Since that time, I have filled pages with references to quotations I wish I’d had then. (Yet I must say it dawned bright and clear on me one day that this teacher wouldn’t be paying attention to an apostle either, if they were in my place.) One such example comes from President Packer, as contained in Mine Errand from the Lord, 348-349, 354-358:
There is the temptation for college teachers, in the Church and outside of it, to exercise their authority to give assignments and thereby introduce their students to degradation under the argument that it is part of our culture. Teachers in the field of literature are particularly vulnerable. . . .In my position piece, among many other things, I asserted that I went to the temple not to hear the opposing argument, but to see it handily dismissed in favor of light and knowledge. I then ranked BYU with that edifice and the home in sanctity, with an obvious allusion to "stand ye in holy places, and be not moved" (D&C 87:8). I’m omitting all my references and a great deal of text, but present a small sampling of how I threw down the gauntlet:
Such will not go unnoticed in the eternal scheme of things. Those who convey a degraded heritage to the next generation will reap disappointment by and by.
Teachers would do well to learn the difference between studying some things, as compared to studying about them. . . .
Each year, many fall victim in the colleges and universities. There, as captive audiences, their faith, their patriotism, and their morality are lined up against a wall and riddled by words shot from the mouths of irreverent professors. . . .
How can we justify expending those sacred funds on a student who will dishonor the agreement he signed at the time of admission or on the salary of a faculty member who has his own agenda, which is at variance with the central mission of the Church, particularly when there is a lineup, ever growing, of both students and teachers waiting and anxious to come to learn or to teach and advance the mission of the university and the central mission of the Church? . . .
Granted, there may be a few among you who feel uncomfortable with the conservative philosophy at Church schools. Each has his choice. If it is a different lifestyle you choose, you are not chained here. There are plenty of places to find whatever lifestyle you desire.
But together with you, we will maintain this university with a style of its own. We who love this university will not allow some few to alter the lifestyle here. . . .
Those who think standards contradict their agency may wish to read the 78th verse of Section 101. . . .
Do not be intimidated by one who advocates philosophies or behavior that are in opposition to the standards set by the Lord. . . . Students in our schools have both the right and the responsibility to challenge such teachings. That may be part of your test. A student or a teacher who feels uncomfortable in our environment is free to choose another, but they are not free to substitute their own ideals or standards of behavior for those expected in an institution supported by the tithes and offerings of the Saints. . . .
In the Church we are not neutral. We are one-sided. There is a war going on, and we are engaged in it. It is the war between good and evil, and we are belligerents defending the good. . . . I want to say in all seriousness that there is a limit to the patience of the Lord with respect to those who are under covenant to bless and protect His Church and kingdom upon the earth but do not do it. . . .
One time I heard the president of a great eastern university describe his school in these words, "We can best serve as a neutral territory—a kind of arbiter where people can come to reason."
This could not be said of [Brigham Young University]. This school is not neutral; it is committed; it is one-sided; it is prejudiced, if you will, in favor of good, of decency, of integrity, of virtue, and of reverence, in a word, in favor of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
This school is not a playing field where good and evil are invited to joust with one another to see which one may win. Evil will find no invitation to contest here. This is a training ground for a single team.
Usually when we express concern for others, that concern involves persuading them to lay hold of the iron rod—not to be sure we remind them that they can let go any time. They will have their turn with the devil, if they haven’t already. If you stand there long enough coaching them on the possibility of choosing evil, any reasonable person would begin to wonder which side you’re on. The fulness of Nephi’s intent was to "persuade men to come unto the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, and be saved" (1 Ne. 6:4). . . .I carried my little persuasive packet into class and followed proper channels, presenting it to the T.A. She was stunned as I told her that I’d prepared a persuasive writing argument against the "risk" article, and asked her to allow students access to it. (In a similar manner, I was once in a ward quite prone to allowing individual members, week after week, to announce their Sunday evening parties in general priesthood. To throw myself into the breach as offering an alternative more in keeping with the day’s holiness, seeing that they were permitted their run of things, I finally stood and announced that I would have gospel study and ice cream at my place. Even though no one ever came to see me, that successfully quieted the rash of irreverent declarations.) I have to say, it required an enormous amount of bravery to accept a copy of my paper in front of the teacher and her compliant classroom. One soul, only one soul, ventured to volunteer to read it. And great shall be my joy with him in the kingdom of heaven, while thousands of others learn to their dismay what President Joseph Fielding Smith expressed:
Satan and his hosts of devils are sufficient temptation without our needing to wilfully allow more agents to walk about campus. . . . Experience teaches us that there are many prepared to show us an alternate way if we forsake the path. For the sake of your agency, and in the name of Christ, resist them. Never mind what they might say about someone else’s agency in their efforts to get you to swallow their pill. . . .
Those who descend to misrepresentations of scripture describing the plan God operates for us, as if we could take that plan in our hands, will encounter my "opposition." By their own arguments—namely, that the necessary opposition which God has in store for us should be sought out by the machinations of man—I trust there is little room for complaint that they have found an opponent in my person.
If a man should labor all his days and convert but one soul, he should have great joy in the kingdom of our Father, and if he should convert many souls, then much greater would be that joy. Reversing the picture, he who blinds one soul, he who spreads error, he who destroys, through his teachings, divine truth, truth that would lead a man to the kingdom of God and to its fulness, how great shall be his condemnation and his punishment in eternity. For the destruction of a soul is the destruction of the greatest thing that has ever been created. (Take Heed to Yourselves!, 190)The following class period, as he entered the class, he lightly tapped me on the arm and said that he had enjoyed it. With some reluctance, another individual whose curiosity overcame his dutifulness to the teacher asked to see the paper. I don’t know what came of that, but he certainly didn’t take up arms against me.
This teacher began staying up nights, feverishly filling margins on my papers with her commentary. She resisted me at every turn. When my father insisted on showing it to one of his friends, they wrote on that copy that she was intimidated by me, and that she wasn’t correcting a thing, merely persecuting. I quietly left a copy of that comment in the final packet at her door, indicating that we’d obviously agreed to disagree, but I didn’t think it right for her to mark down my persuasive abilities just because she was easily as stubborn in her viewpoint as I was in mine. I pointed out how she’d had to take an entire day to teach the class a rather basic grammatical rule, while she obviously took the care of hours marking up my papers, assaulting their reasoning. Ultimately, she gave me the lowest possible grade in persuasive writing that I could have received without appealing the decision before the university.
How did I fare in January 2002? I signed up again for "Literature of the LDS People." It was a much tamer version, now under a different professor, yet still devoted the bulk of the first class to ridiculing standard LDS fare. He cited the example of his own sister as someone who read within the confines of a very "narrow" interest base. His curriculum still allowed for some questionable literature, with the caveat that one could substitute with something else if they found it offensive. Again, even at that time I had hundreds upon hundreds of Latter-day Saint books, and I certainly hadn’t specialized in anything offensive! In this classroom, I had the opportunity to raise my hand and quote President Benson that "one of the marks of an educated man today is to know what not to read—what not to see or what not to listen to." I went to the extra lengths of meeting with this teacher individually in his office, primarily to let him know why I would not enroll in his class. I showed him a list of what I’d read in the past year, to indicate that the more than 100 books were anything but the pursuit of a scrawny intellect. Having learned from some bitter experience, I indifferently informed him that my life was too short to spend the semester picking through the barren landscape of his offering, though I put it somewhat more tactfully than that.
We had scarcely started in an entirely different English course when the teacher handed out copies of the detestable "risk" paper. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I got this haunted feeling that it might be in the unofficial collective favorites of the Department. I quickly wrote out a one paragraph response about the implications to studying rhetoric and turned my back on another class. I wrote something to the effect that I was greatly concerned that rhetoric was admiration of style over substance, glamorous trivia over glittering truth. As I was mulling these things over, one night I had a frightening dream in which the secretary at the desk of the English Department demanded that I hand her my temple recommend. The interview question was driven home to me, "Do you support, affiliate with, or agree with any group or individual whose teachings or practices are contrary to or oppose those accepted by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?" A succession of teachers and their practices flitted through my mind. I arose from slumber, weary of campaigning in a war that didn’t seem mine to wage, especially since I’m not a man of halfhearted measures.
I went into their offices and asked to see a counselor. Very few people know that I once double-majored in history and English. My grades weren’t stellar, it’s true, but there is only one reason why I don’t also have an English major. That day, I requested that they downgrade it to a minor. I was somewhere between 3 and 9 credits from completion. The lady asked me twice if I was sure that’s what I wanted to do. I’m not saying this renunciation is supposed to make much sense, and I’m definitely not indicating that someone else taking their English degree at that time or subsequently was in the least bit tainted. This has helped to define me, and I hope it won’t seem an irrational demerit in the eyes of potential readers. Somehow, it was important for me to wash my hands of the business and rededicate myself to the Lord. I wanted Him to know that, in pale comparison to Abraham, I would not take the slightest thing from the king of Sodom (see Genesis 14:22-23), that they would play no part in my future. I will never be beholden to those teachers for anything I accomplish in this world. I owe everything to God, and it should all be His.
