“You seem upset.”
“I am upset. You should be, too. Why aren’t there apologies?
Why aren’t our leaders more concerned with the issues that bother us? Why isn’t
there any transparency? I feel like I’m knocking, knocking, knocking, and I’m
not getting any answers.”
A few tender months after the Church’s article on Race and the Priesthood was released, I was visiting some friends in Paris, France when I heard the
good news – Elder Steven E. Snow, the Church Historian, was in town, and he was
holding a Q&A Fireside for anyone to attend. Seeing as I had about one
million questions, I agreed to go.
The first half hour was quiet and calm, commencing with
testimony-filled comments from the historian and his counselor about the
greatness of the Lord’s work and how learning the Church’s history intimately
has helped their faith in Joseph Smith grow. A few shy questions were politely
asked, as if to ease the obvious tension in the room that weighed heavily upon
confused hearts. Suddenly, my dear friend’s hand shot up. “I served my mission
in Utah,” she started, “where I learned about many historical events I wasn’t
aware of, often because investigators would question us with rumors they heard.
I wanted to know if you’ve ever personally come across something in your
research that’s disturbed you, and, if so, how do you deal with it?”
The room fell silent, and Elder Snow’s pleasant face twisted
into a frown. Becoming surprisingly defensive, he brushed aside her question
with another Praise to the Man, claiming that if anyone had a real testimony of
the restored gospel they wouldn’t have a problem. “The Church’s history is like
a large tapestry,” he informed us, “and, if you look closely, sometimes you’ll
see threads in there that don’t make sense. But if you take a step back, you’ll
see the whole beautiful tapestry. Then the threads you don’t understand don’t
matter as much.”
A floodgate had opened, with several more people daring to
raise their hands to ask the “tiny thread” questions. Elder Snow answered a few
more questions, then asked to draw the meeting to a close. Since I was not
of the chosen few selected to speak, I marched up to the front and
asked to speak to the historian and his counselor.
“So, would you say that these ‘confusing’ threads are a
mistake? Or do you believe that they’re actually a necessary part of the
‘tapestry’?”
Elder Snow saw my blazing eyes and excused himself to speak
to the bishop while his counselor turned to me, smiling. I continued,
explaining my thoughts on the recent article on racism in the Church’s history,
my dissatisfaction with the way women are treated, and the lack of support given
to LGBT members of our faith.
“You seem upset,” he responded, slightly hesitant.
“I am upset. You should be, too. Why aren’t there apologies?
Why aren’t our leaders more concerned with the issues that bother us? Why isn’t
there any transparency? I feel like I’m knocking, knocking, knocking, and I’m
not getting any answers.”
Looking intently at my face, he paused for a moment, and
proceeded to say the sweetest words I have ever heard come out of a priesthood
leader’s mouth.
“I don’t know.”
I once listened to a Freakonomics podcast that really resonated with me called, “The Three Hardest Words in the English Language.” And no, “I love you” are not those words. The three hardest words in the English
language are, according to economists, “I don’t know.” Stephen Dubner, the host
of the show, goes on to explain that in order to become successful at your job
and, well, in life in general, being able to acknowledge when you don’t know
something is crucial. “Until you can admit what you don’t
know,” he explains, “it’s virtually impossible to learn what you need to.
Because if you think you already have all the answers, you won’t go looking for
them.” His colleague and fellow economist, Steve Levitt, added, “The thing
about always faking is that if you fake like you know the answer, you don’t
have the freedom to explore other possibilities. But if you actually care about
the outcome and the truth, saying ‘I don’t know’ is critical.”
There’s a perception in our society that if we admit to not
knowing something, we appear to be weak or incompetent. This absurdity, like so
many other aspects of our Western culture which we subject ourselves to,
has permeated the porous religious walls behind which we protect our
faith. Time and time again I have attempted to bring difficult and ambiguous
questions to the Sunday School table or to the bishop’s desk, and time and time
again I have been shut down with unverifiable doctrinal theories or rote
answers that don’t even really address the issue at hand.
In my last transfer on my mission, I was asked to give a workshop
on “How to Answer Hard Questions” at our quarterly Zone Conference. I started
out by asking the Elders in the room (my companion and I were the only sisters)
to role play answering certain prompts I’d given them, most of which had
something to do with an investigator asking why women don’t have the priesthood
or why the Church practiced polygamy. Every single one of those Elders came up
with some sort of elaborate answer, even throwing some scriptures around as if
to prove the point they’d rehearsed their whole lives.
I then asked them if there was any real doctrinal foundation to
what they were saying. I pointed out some scriptures that directly contradicted
the message they were trying to convey through their own display of God’s Word,
and asked them to provide the reference for the prophets they were supposedly
quoting. They fumbled around for a minute, searching for something tangible in
the void I’d thrown them into, before admitting that they had no concrete
evidence for the answers they were providing. I turned around and wrote “Ich
weiß nicht” [I don’t know] on
the board.
“These are the only words that
have given me any comfort when addressing these issues. No theories, no
opinions, no traditions of thought have ever provided as much consolation as the
words ‘I don’t know’ have when spoken by a person in authority,” I explained.
“Never pretend to have the answers. Be honest, open, and willing to admit when
something is hard to understand. Tell them you don’t know, but you’d like to.”
I have come to believe that allowing yourself to not have all the
answers can not only be extremely therapeutic, it can also lead you on the path
to more enlightened truth. In that same
podcast, Stephen Dubner reminded us that “simply saying ‘I don’t know’ isn’t a solution. It’s just a first step.
You have to figure out what you don’t know – and then work like a dog to
learn.”
Though perhaps contradictory to
logic, understanding that no one has the answers has provided me a lot of
clarity and given me a space in which my faith has grown. It has allowed me to
explore the idea that there is so much more to learn, and the answers and
excuses I had been given all my life that I did not agree with are not
necessarily the truth God wants me to know and comprehend. I find great comfort
in knowing that my Heavenly Father will, as I’ve learned through the example of
Joseph Smith, give me knowledge that is contingent upon my asking and waiting
for it. Elder Stanley G. Ellis assured members in a 2010 Ensign article that “the Lord expects us to inquire, study, and act –
even though there are some things we may never know in this life.”
“I don’t know” is a good place to
start, but it is not the magic pot at the end of the rainbow. It should never
be used to shut someone up or quiet a movement down. Admitting our lack of
knowledge shouldn’t lead us to blind faith, it should guide us to divine
inspiration. Knowing you don’t have the answers is humility, and understanding
that it is possible to have answers, clarity, and peace in this life is hope.
“Verily, verily, I say unto thee, blessed art thou for what
thou hast done; for thou hast inquired of me, and behold, as often as thou hast
inquired thou hast received instruction of my Spirit. If it had not been so,
thou wouldst not have come to the place where thou art at this time.
Behold, thou knowest that thou hast inquired of me and I
did enlighten thy mind; and now I tell thee these things that thou mayest know
that thou hast been enlightened by the Spirit of truth.”
D&C 6: 14, 15
