Can We Accurately Describe History?

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by Seattle Jon (bio)

Trying to describe the past as it actually was is a real challenge. I put forward that it cannot be done. Why? Because of the limitations all of us share in approaching any past happening, limitations that no analytical skill or linguistic or statistical tool can transcend. Taken from Richard D. Poll's History and Faith: Reflections of a Mormon Historian, these six limitations are:

Perspective: Each of us looks at what is happening from a certain point of view; we cannot see it in the round. We have invented machines that do a better job of looking at a thing from all sides than we are able to do with our human perceptions.

Bias: We bring not only a point of view to every event but also prejudices. We may think our approach to books and articles is relatively neutral and dispassionate, but bias—prejudgment—concerning subject or author had something to do with our decision to read and it will certainly affect what we retain.

Memory: Each of us can remember occasions, either amusing or stressful, in which efforts to recall a relatively recent conversation generated differences about the content and even the conclusions reached. Memory affects all events.

Records: As time and distance affect our memories of an event, we confront our dependence upon documents and artifacts and the problem of the incompleteness and impermanence of all records.

Who ART Thou?

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by Casey Peterson (bio)

I realize that this is the season to see and review movies. I think that release times coincide with the madness of the holidays when money is madly flying from pockets and budgets are cast by the wayside. Most of us returned to workplace discussions of what movies we saw over the holidays. This year, however, entertainment and "art" were combined with the release of Les Miserables. A certain social expectation exists for everyone to take a side on if they loved or hated it. This struggle of choice has caused me deep reflection in many areas, but mostly relating to "art."

I must preface this post by saying that I loved spending time with my wife at the movie. I loved the songs, the history, and much of the message. It was a cool movie, which I wish it could have just been. But instead, in an attempt to infuse it with "art," lines were sung that could just as well have been spoken. Movements were made that didn't have to be danced. And through it all, I realized I just don't get the art part, it detracted for me instead of helping.

I love music, and appreciate it. However, music is like caramel on ice cream for me, it has a time and place as a wonderful enhancer. I can't eat a straight diet of music, it quickly will gross me out by itself, but when judiciously used, it's awesome.

Dancing, well, that's like jalapenos on ice cream, it just doesn't work for me. The strange contortions of the body which are supposedly telling me a plot, a story, or an interpretation just don't get the message across to me. They are a stark reminder of my mission time spent in South America when gastrointestinal distress was a common companion. I've witnessed most modern dance "art" moves, but in dusty streets of pueblos, and not on an illuminated stage. My poor companions in pain rushing against the cruel clock of Mother Nature in search of bathroom facilities were not a thing of beauty, refinement, or culture. Yet the same movements, when performed by dancers on a stage in light clothing, are considered "art" and culture. If the message is so important, why can't performers just say it, post it on facebook, or spell it out. Hours watching to interpret are just too much!

I love poetry, many paintings, and music of all kinds. Movements are fine, I considered Michael Jordan in the open court, or Hakeem Olajowon in the post, or Jerry Rice on a go route to be incredibly graceful and inspiring. I'm inspired by the BYU Young Ambassadors doing cultural dances, and enjoyed watching Argentines dance the tango. Yet please don't force art upon me, by singing what should be said, making my guess your story by watching you jump around, or acting who you're not while dressed in crazy costumes, all in the name of art.

Giveaway 26: Winners

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According to Scott Hales, Theric Jepson's new novel Byuck should be required reading for BYU students, alumni, and basically everyone else who appreciates good fiction with a healthy dose of quirk. The book recounts the adventures of David Them and Curses Olai, two BYU roommates who defy Brigham Young's call to "get married to a good sister, fence a city lot, [...] and make a home" by writing a rock opera with an unpronounceable name.

Now, on the heels of an excellent interview with the author, Therese Doucet at Strange Violin Editions is generously giving away five copies of Byuck to the following MMM readers:

Lindsay Brimhall Wolsey (link to comment)
Christopher Bigelow (link to comment)
Saskia (link to comment)
Brouge Ramos (link to comment)
Kadusey (link to comment)

Winners, please email us your home address by Friday to claim your book. If you didn't win, buy Byuck now!

MMM Search Term Roundup 8: April & May 2012

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by Scott Heffernan (bio)

When someone finds Modern Mormon Men via search engine, we get to see what they typed to get here, giving us a small glimpse into the thought processes of those who happen upon our site. I think our readers need to see these, so I'll be sharing them monthly. Some are funny, some are sad, some are disturbing. Maybe we can work together to give some context or help answer some of those curious questions. WARNING: Although some of the more explicit entries have been excluded, saucier phrases that are included have not been edited.

See all Search Term Roundups here.

mormon socks
The only socks going to the Celestial Kingdom. (But they have to be in pairs to make it to the highest level.)

mormon eccentricities
There aren't any really.

mormon making out
The best kind of making out.

young hip and mormon blogs
Two out of three ain’t bad.

when a mormon man loves a woman
This was the original title to the famous Percy Sledge song. Probably wouldn't have had quite the reach. Good move.

Talking At People

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by ldsbishop (bio)

image courtesy of Mrs. ldsbishop

For the first twenty years or so of my life, I didn't much like the company of people. Crippling social anxiety during my school years, along with living in a rural part of the UK, meant I kept my circle of friends small and reassuringly familiar. Many people described me as being aloof when they tried to get to know me, but it wasn't a form of snobbery that was preventing me from engaging with them, it was just my natural shyness.

After a sequence of events too mundane and obscure to mention here, I ended up living and working in Utah, engaged to a beautiful girl and seriously investigating The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Here was I, a skinny British kid from the shire, thrust into the most alien environment I had ever been in - a rural Utah Mormon ward. I'd only ever seen people wearing bolo ties and cowboy hats in the movies before. Now here were those people in the flesh, just less stereotypically cowboyish and more stereotypically Mormon.

Being thrust into an alien Church environment somehow did more to ease my social anxiety within minutes than months of sitting with a hypnotherapist ever achieved.  My mother hired him when I was ten in a desperate attempt to trick the shyness out of me ... it failed.

Was it the comforting messages of the gospel, the firmer knowledge that I was a child of God or just that the situation was so out of character and absurd it caused a short circuit in my brain that killed the anxiety? It seemed as if the Spirit was whispering to me, "Don't worry, don't feel embarrassed or anxious. The guy that's speaking to you is wearing a bolo tie with a picture of Jesus in the middle of it. You're not the odd one here."

So, instead of quickly making excuses and finding somewhere to be quiet, I was now at least able to hold a conversation with people. Or should I say, stand there while they talked at me. My gosh, these people didn't half like to talk. Yap, yap, yap, that's all people ever did with me. In the lessons, in the hall, during sacrament meetings. Mormons love to talk. Anyone who has ever had to sit in a High Priest Group lesson would soon realise that there is very little opportunity for silence and reflection. It's talk, talk, talk all the time.

The Caleb Miracle: Redux

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by LJ (bio)

In late August 2012, I began what would be my first hurdle toward my own Caleb miracle and wrote about it here on MMM.

On December 13th, 2012, I dropped off my application for a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at the University of Virginia. Then I went home to eat half a tube of Toll House cookie dough.

Turns out applying for grad school is a huge boogery process, including mysterious "processing" fees, blood sacrifice and references to prove that you yourself can be connected to Kevin Bacon in six degrees or less. For someone who consistently pulled C+ grades at the BYU, this also meant two months of intensive cramming for the GRE (I still scored in the dumb-kid range in math), a personal statement and an original 23-page short story.

To top it all off, I decided to do this one month after moving 2300 miles cross-country with our extremely active toddler to settle here for my husband's new job. And I was like four months pregnant with our second kid.

All the circumstances melded into one perfect storm of SWEET FANCY MOSES ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GOURD from sources both without and within. Many of my beloveds cheered me on or fielded incoherent phone calls when I was too tired and pale and weepy to edit my own work, much less melt a dang quesadilla for dinner.

MMM Sermons: Come What May, and Love It

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by Saint Mark (bio)

Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints call them "talks," but most (non)Christians call them sermons. This is a series of sermons that many Latter-day Saints love and believe. I hope these sermons promote and perfect your faith as they do mine. Read or watch this sermon here.

Just prior to his death, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught us how to laugh at life. In the October 2008 General Conference, Elder Wirthlin shared personal anecdotes of how he approached the challenges and awkward moments of life. Whether driving to the wrong state or having his daughter mistaking a husband for her date, Elder Wirthlin knew how to laugh at life where others might have cried in embarrassment or anger.

I haven't come close to laughing at all of life's trials, but when a trial comes I often think of Elder Wirthlin.

Because of the timing of this sermon, there is more weight to his words of "Come What May and Love It."

How have you learned to laugh at life and love it?