This guest post is written by Nicole, a self-described “Middle Way Mormon” and professor at an unnamed university. While currently a less-than-active member of the bloggernacle, she has immense gratitude to liberal Mormon blogs in supporting her through her faith crisis in the late 2000’s. She writes from the pacific northwest where she lives with her boys and non-member spouse of 18 years.

I received my endowment in the early 2000’s. My parents and a set of grandparents met me at a temple half-way between my new Midwestern home and theirs in the Jello-belt. I was well-prepared, with better than average knowledge of the commitments I was about to make. I was delighted to participate in a religious rite-of-passage that I had looked forward to my entire life, excited to take my spiritual connection to the next level.

And I was immediately blindsided by the extent of the misogyny in what I had expected to be the most spiritually supportive space.

My experience is sadly not unique. The gender implications in the temple ceremonies prior to this week were not of God. Full stop.

As a feminist in a mixed-faith marriage, it felt immediately wrong. As the veil fell over my face, I couldn’t hold back the tears. When I reached the celestial room, I didn’t dare correct my father’s assumption they were tears of joy. I looked to my mother and grandmother, but their eyes offered no respite. When I exited the building, my supportive spouse asked if I was ok; I changed the subject. Later that night, tears flowed as he held me. In vague generalities – I took the “sacred” too seriously back then – I explained that gender differences were shocking, even for my conservative faith tradition.

As crazy as it seems, I then trekked the 45 minutes each way to the local, small temple monthly for the next year, desperately trying to resolve the dissonance. How could the thing that I valued about my faith in my youth – my direct line to the Divine – have been so wrong? Surely I was misunderstanding something? Certainly there was an explanation? But one never came. Not with fasting. Not with scripture study. And certainly not in the endowment itself.

I finally decided I had to stop repeatedly subjecting myself to hurt, but kept my recommend to attend immediate family events. During a crazy year of moves, pregnancy, and dissertation writing, I let it lapse. A year later, when a Bishop asked me to renew, I found the courage to say that I respected that the temple brought many people joy and peace; however, the presentation of gender within did the exact opposite for me. He invited me to attend anyways, to study and ponder. I declined. He counseled me to have, if not use, a recommend. I stated I didn’t want the reminder of being “less than”. He let it go.

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Repentance is listed in our Articles of Faith as a precursor to baptism, to being a disciple of Christ. When we teach repentance, we tend to emphasize identifying what we did wrong in order to not repeat it. However, repentance in the Christian context is incomplete without grace via the atonement of Jesus Christ. Accessing grace in the Mormon tradition requires explicitly asking for forgiveness from God, as often as needed, as we strive for perfection. Intuitively, we know that restitution is important. We teach our children that when they break something or hurt someone’s feelings, they should fix it. But we largely downplay restitution in favor of emphasizing Christ’s atoning grace.

Yet there are justice-oriented spaces in modern society that successfully highlight restitution. For example, Restorative Justice is a paradigm that elevates the interpersonal and thus the importance of restitution.

Increasingly popular in criminal justice, school settings, and even post-war reconciliation, this framework specifically acknowledges that actions (often termed “harms”) by both individuals and institutions affect the entire community – victims, offenders, and bystanders. It also suggests that more is to be gained by individuals and communities through repairing rather than “punishing”.

Restorative Justice brings together offenders and victims to actively create resolution, often via face-to-face social learning. Through communication and deep reflection, a mutual understanding of the harm is formed. Restorative Justice works because the interactions empower and thus provide much needed healing for the victim while offering the offender the chance to understand the depths of and restore the harm. With a nuanced understanding of the context, the offender can clearly articulate and follow through with an appropriate restorative action.

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On the last Sunday of 2018, I sat in my parent’s ward, marveling at the changes happening. We had stopped attending two years ago during a child’s mental health crisis. The two-hour block seemed much more civilized; it would reduce the load on my Primary (and nearly YM/YW age!) children! It would allow me time with my part-member family on Sunday! Scouting was being de-emphasized! There was even some – though not enough – changes to protect children during interviews!

I contemplated reconsidering my now active shielding of my children from the Church. Just as quickly, I was reminded that two biggies still hung out there: the continued persecution of our LGBTQ friends and the misogyny of the temple.

Days later, I clicked on a FB link to read Jana Riess and Emily Jensen’s essay. Tears of relief and affirmation streamed down my face as I read about something I had given up on. Again, I started going down the mental path of increased activity in the Church – my scruples with “worthiness interviews” be damned – so I could experience it for myself.

And then I got to this:

“I am hearing that the revised endowment ceremony actually opens with a statement from church leaders that advises members not to discuss the fact that changes have been made at all.”

It was a gut punch.

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“Restitution. We must restore as far as possible all that has been damaged by our actions, whether that is someone’s property or someone’s good reputation. Willing restitution shows the Lord that we will do all we can to repent” – Repentance Topic on LDS.org

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For 176 years, half of the membership of this church deemed devout enough to seek the Divine in our most sacred space were instructed that we needed a man to access God’s greatest gifts. Undoubtedly, some women – so accustomed to being “less than” in and out of the Church – never gave it a second thought. Some made peace with it by focusing on the male promises; others performed mental gymnastics to feel ok. Some internalized this hurt more than others. Of that group, some simply removed temple worship. The brave whispered privately; the really brave spoke publicly, even to the point of discipline. Tragically, some men used this language to justify the unjustifiable.

In each of those scenarios, harms occurred. Women ignored their full potential, spent emotional labor to compartmentalize, navigated balancing what they knew in their hearts with their love for their family, endured abuse, and/or had church membership yanked. For 176 years.

I am thrilled this messy part of our highest rituals are finally being tossed. But when the Church simultaneously tells us that we can’t talk about it, they continue to perpetuate harm.

The instruction to be silent is inconsistent with the Church itself providing information about the temple to the general public. For example, any endowed member reading the official website’s About the Temple Endowment can easily identify the four major covenants made within sacred walls. Surely a change to the temple wording that affects over half (!!!) of the membership deserves just as much description, explanation, and transparency. But that is not what we see in the January 2nd press release.

Many are suggesting we “go to the temple and discuss the changes there.” But how are the endowed women with lapsed recommends to know of the change at all?

This hints at the greater problem: silence is incompatible with restitution and reconciliation with those who have been harmed. Institutional silence is, at best, the chicken way out; at worst, it is an act of ongoing oppression.

I deserve to know that this concern that separated me from 15 years of temple worship has been changed. I deserve to understand the rationale and to be confident that I won’t be traumatized within those walls again should I choose to return.

Just as important, those who accepted the gendered language – whatever the reason – are potentially being harmed right now! They trusted leadership. Do they not deserve some guidance as they experience this big shift in how gender is portrayed within an official ritual? I also worry that without some guidance, at least some are likely to declare the sacred nature of the temple has been watered down due to those whiny feminists.

If an individual had caused harm to others – intentional or not – we would rightly expect them to repent by abstaining in the future and to reducing the impact on those harmed “as far as possible.” Where is the institutional restitution? The Church allowed misogynistic harm – real harm – in the temple for far too long. Requiring silence while simultaneously giving zero language in the official comment is exactly opposite of trying to reduce the damage.

Let’s be clear. I’m not expecting a perfect institution. I know all humans are imperfect; the Church is a composite of imperfection. However, I’m disappointed – but sadly not surprised – that leadership is choosing to erase the unsavory and hope nobody notices the messy eraser mark. It is short-sighted. And it completely ignores restitution, a critical component of repentance, one of our religion’s most foundational principles.

Personally, I can only celebrate if I am actively participating in restitution. I suspect I’m not alone, though it is notable that only the feminist blogs (here, Exponent) are allowing these mixed feelings to percolate out. I invite readers here and elsewhere to be respectfully honest in their immediate and extended circles, virtual and real, about mixed feelings.

My north star of dealing with organized religion for years has been agency: just as I can decide how I best commune with the Divine, I am obligated to support others in their spiritual practice. We do not have to participate in silence as repression. We can applaud this change to our rituals as we critically examine the (lack of) communication. We can be respectful of the sacred covenants, of our believing family members, and still tell this story – a story of discrimination, repression, and real harm; of brave resistance at sometimes a terribly high price; and of redemption. We can do so by acknowledging victims – silent, whispering, and loud. We can continue to ask the hard questions about priesthood roles in and out of the temple. And we can critically examine who else we might be unnecessarily treating as less than to make certain we are not perpetuating a similar harm within our greater community. Only then will we be firmly on the path of restitution and repentance.