The “Walking Book of Mormon”

I don’t know how other religions deal with celebrity members, but it seems like those of us in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) treat them like we treat Diet Coke and the Word of Wisdom: we either embrace them, regardless of their activity in or representation of the Church, or we shun, ignore or otherwise pretend they don’t belong to us.

I have to be honest; sometimes I’m shocked to learn that a particular celebrity has a Mormon background. (Christina Aguilera, Amy Adams and Roseanne Barr anyone? WHAT?!) Other times, I like to think I have Modar and can call them out before it’s somehow revealed. (A SYTYCD contestant from Utah? Mormon.)

Anyway, considering that I think of myself as an above average sports fan, I was shocked to learn recently that Bryce Harper, of the Washington Nationals, also identifies, not only, as a member of the Church, but as apparently as active a member as one can be who plays in Major League Baseball. At least, that’s what he told the Washington Times three years ago. (“I try to be the best walking Book of Mormon as I can.”) Fast forward a couple years, and I’m not sure that looking at him in the 2015 ESPN Body Issue would necessarily convey the same sentiment. Mormons don’t usually pose naked in national publications (to say nothing of the tattoo). So somebody call Deseret Book STAT and get Brother Harper a life-size scripture tote for his naked Book of Mormon.

Being a celebrity and a poster member of the Church is a very difficult, if not impossible. If you’re an actor, you’re probably going to be given scripts with objectionable content. If you’re an athlete, you’re going to be playing sports on Sunday. If you’re a performance artist, you’ll undoubtedly be performing in venues on Sunday. (And even if you manage to get to a local Sunday service, somewhere in the world, attending sacrament meeting is not nearly all that goes into a Mormon membership.) Whatever the profession, the fame, fortune and fast times are tough to keep in check.

My all-time favorite Mormon celebrity (if only for a brief moment in time) is a guy I had the pleasure of literally running into on a daily basis during my football playing days at B.Y.U. His name is Eli Herring, and he played right tackle for quarterbacks like Ty Detmer and Steve Sarkisian. I was a third string defensive end, which meant that I was first string defensive end for whoever the opposing defense would be in our next game; which meant that I lined up across Eli every, single practice.

If you’ve never heard of Eli’s name, or read his story, now’s your chance. He turned down a three year contract with the Oakland Raiders worth $1.5MM to become a math teacher making $22K. Why? Because he didn’t want to play a game on the Lord’s Day. Eli’s rejection of the NFL made national news, and then was faded into history like everyone and everything else.

I haven’t seen Eli since the last time our heads butted in practice. But I can tell you this, if anything rubbed off on me, from all those impacts with Brother Eli, it was this: he loves his God, and isn’t afraid to show and tell the world about it.

Now THAT is a walking Book of Mormon.

 

“You don’t thank for this.”

If you’re an Avatard or just someone with a penchant for remembering odd movie quotes (like me), then you’ll recognize the title of this post as belonging to Neytiri, from James Cameron’s Avatar, when she rebuked Jake Sully, who was only looking to express gratitude for Neytiri’s having saved him from a gaggle of dark forest creatures.

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to visit the ward of a younger sister, because my niece was giving her mission farewell talk. I love visiting this particular ward, because it’s inevitable that I’ll pick up on something being done there that isn’t being duplicated in my ward, or any other ward I’ve ever attended. It must be something in the local water. It doesn’t matter who is serving as the bishop, there’s always something different being done; and I have yet to dislike anything I’ve witnessed. (Here’s a previous POST, the inspiration for which also came from this particular ward.)

On this day, my administrative radar started beeping, when at the end of the administration of the sacrament, the priesthood men and boys dismissed themselves and returned to sit with their families. What’s more, when the bishopric member conducting the meeting took the stand to announce the remainder of the program, nothing more was said about the sacrament. There was no acknowledgement about the reverence of the congregation or the priesthood, nor was there permission granted for the men and boys to return to their seats.

In all my years of church attendance, this was the first time EVER that the usual protocol of priesthood waiting to be dismissed and a bishopric member dismissing them did not occur. And I loved it.

We should not be thanking the priesthood “for their reverence in administering the sacrament and excuse them to sit with their families.” When did this practice begin; and why is it so universally applied? Sure, it’s polite; yes, it’s harmless. But what happens (as I’ve seen happen before) when a bishopric member takes the podium and forgets to dismiss the priesthood? You see the boys turn to each other as if to ask, “Are we stuck here?” and “Are we allowed to just get up and leave?” Inevitably, the meeting is interrupted so that permission can be given for the priesthood to rejoin their families.

There is nothing in the handbook, of which I am aware, requiring ward leaders to thank or dismiss the priesthood relative to their service with the sacrament each week. This has become one of those unwritten (and frankly unnecessary) traditions in the LDS faith. From Paul H. Dunn: “Leaders should not be afraid to break with the traditions of the past if, in doing so, they have something better to offer. It is a very dangerous thing to find a good procedure, then do it that way continuously.” (Ten Most Wanted Men, pg. 93)

As it relates to the weekly administration of the sacramental emblems, it seems clear to me that the best way to say thank you, is to say nothing at all. Or, if anything has to be said, it should be some commentary on the atonement, and the privilege it is to renew ourselves each week.

I agree with Neytiri; there are some things for which you just don’t thank.