by

“Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”

–William Bruce Cameron, “The Elements of Statistical Confusion Or: What Does the Mean Mean?”

Most educators have at least a passing familiarity with the difference between what can be counted and what actually counts. Some things that students learn–how to spell words, how to do math problems, the capital of North Dakota–can be measured easily, with machine-scored bubble sheets, and used to compare students across the country.



Other things are a lot harder to measure. And some things–things like curiosity, integrity, respect for other people’s ideas, leadership, charisma, drive–can’t really be measured at all. And the thing is, these are the things that matter most. What frustrates most people I know in the world of education is that administrators and politicians invariably mistake what can be easily measured with what actually matters, and the most measurable things come to be seen as the most important things simply because they can be so easily measured.

It works the same way with the Gospel. There are some things that can be assessed with clear-cut, yes-or-no questions that one can ask in a ten-minute interview and sometimes confirmed by observations or reports:

Do you smoke or drink alcohol, coffee, or tea?

Have you ever had sex without being married?

Have you ever been physically intimate with someone of your same gender?

Do you pay tithing?

Do you go to the store on Sunday?

Do you dress modestly?

Do you view pornography?

Do you masturbate?

We can comb through the New Testament looking for the places that Jesus talked about these things without finding a thing. These are not the things that He considered important. In fact, the only ones of them that come up at all in the New Testament are the rules regarding Sabbath observance and the dietary code–both of which serve as proof of the emptiness of the way that the Pharisees interpret the Law.

Imagine a standard worthiness interview that used a different set of questions–something like:

Do you love God with all your heart, might mind and soul?

Do you love your neighbor as yourself?

Who have you recently mourned with? Comforted? Born burdens that they may be light?

Do you have anger in your heart against somebody? What have you done about that?

Which of your enemies do you love most? The least? Why is that?

Who have you forgiven for offending you? Who do you still need to find a way to forgive?

Do you ever see other people merely as instruments for your social or sexual satisfaction? When you look at somebody that you are sexually attracted to, do you make an effort to see them as human beings with desires, wants, needs, and a unique relationship to God?

How are you coming in your attempts to see all people the same way that God sees them and to treat them with divine charity?

What are some specific ways that you are consecrating your talents, time, and treasure to build the Kingdom of God?

These are the things that Christ cared about the most. They are the things that He enjoined his disciples to do. Indeed, this is what He meant by “discipleship.” An interview based on these questions could go on for hours and cause people to reflect on the way that they incorporate the most important aspects of the Gospel into their lives.

It could not, however, result in a quick-and-easy, up-or-down determination of somebody’s “worthiness.” Questions like these don’t work that way. The answer is never just “yes” and “no.” It is always “it depends.” Sometimes we do better, and sometimes we do worse–but we are always somewhere in between God and the Devil. None of us is worthy enough, and all of us can be redeemed. We all need spiritual guidance and support. We all need grace and forgiveness.

Enforcing boundaries is not the same as facilitating spiritual development.

This is why I think that the Ecclesiastical Endorsement process at LDS Universities is fundamentally broken. I am not concerned that bishops are encouraged to evaluate the worthiness of students and faculty members. But I am appalled by how shallow, narrow, and ultimately Unchristian the definition of worthiness in these interviews is. The process reduces some of the most important concepts in the human world–Chastity, Morality, Virtue, Integrity, Faithfulness, and Honor–to the simple injunction, “don’t have sex.” And every other ethical imperative is reduced to “obey stuff.”

We can do better than this. LDS Universities couldbe powerful tools for meaningful growth and spiritual development. They can be places where students can confront the deepest truths of the Gospel and explore both the cost and the glory of discipleship. They can be places where students, faculty, and ecclesiastical leaders come together and explore difficult and rewarding questions about spirituality, faith, reason, knowledge, and genuine understanding.

To do this, though, we have to stop obsessing on what can be counted and focus instead on what really counts.