Category: 2017

Go, and Do Thou Likewise

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20171 Comment

SamaritanDear Will:

I’m not going to rehash the ugliness of what happened recently in Charlottesville except to say that it put on full display the worst side of humanity. It was all so awful, in fact, that the Church was moved to issue a public statement reiterating its stance on the issue of racial discrimination and hatred: “No man who makes disparaging remarks concerning those of another race can consider himself a true disciple of Christ. Nor can he consider himself to be in harmony with the teachings of the Church of Christ.”

Weirdly, even that was not enough. Just two days later, the Church felt compelled to issue a further clarification inasmuch as some had twisted the previous release somehow to justify racial bigotry. The second statement was unequivocal: “White supremacist attitudes are morally wrong and sinful, and we condemn them. Church members who promote or pursue a ‘white culture’ or white supremacy agenda are not in harmony with the teachings of the Church.”

In the midst of all of this, I couldn’t help thinking that we would all be better off if more people simply went to Sunday School and paid attention. On the question of how to treat those with whom we may not agree—particularly those of a different ethnic or religious persuasion—Jesus taught very clearly:

     25 And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?
     26 [Jesus] said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?
     27 And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.
     28 And [Jesus] said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.
     29 But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?
     30 And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.
     31 And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.
     32 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.
     33 But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was . . .

(I suppose I should pause here to point out that Samaritans were considered foreigners whose religious beliefs were abhorrent to the Jews.)

. . . and when [the Samaritan] saw him, he had compassion on him,
     34 And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.
     35 And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.
     36 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?
     37 And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.

So on the question of how to treat those with different racial or ethnic or religious backgrounds, we might reasonably ask: “What would Jesus do?” And the answer is simple: He would be like the Samaritan.

PW

It’s a Long Time Till Wednesday

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20174 Comments

Wednesday

Dear Will:

I’m not getting any better at this stuff.

When my daughter Bryn was barely 19, she boarded a plane for New Zealand where she lived and worked for the next two years. Putting her on that Air New Zealand flight was traumatizing, especially as we faced hours and hours of radio silence awaiting word of her arrival. As fatherhood memories go, it is not one I treasure. (Fortunately, it all worked out.) Nevertheless, a year later I found myself once again standing in an airport about to send my daughter halfway round the world. And once again, it was tearful and traumatizing.

So you’d think that I might be building up a tolerance for such things. Alas, it is not so.

Last week my wife Dana and I drove to Utah to deliver Seth (our youngest) to the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo. On Wednesday, July 26, he began his formal preparations to serve full-time in the Argentina Posadas Mission, which straddles the Paraná River as it runs between Argentina and Paraguay. He will be gone for about two years, during which time we will communicate with him principally through once-a-week emails. No big deal, I thought. I’ve known this day was coming his entire life. We can do this.

But on Wednesday at 2:15 pm, he disappeared into the MTC with his two ginormous suitcases filled with white shirts and other missionary essentials. And at 2:16 pm it really hit me: Wait a second. I have to wait till next Wednesday for word from Seth? But I want to know what’s happening RIGHT NOW. That thought has come back to me again and again every day since we said our good-byes. I’m not worried about his welfare (not yet, anyway—he’s in Provo, Utah, after all), but I hate being out of the loop. How does he like his teachers? What about the other missionaries he will be training with for six weeks before they fly to South America? How’s the food? What’s the routine? Has he thought about his over-invested and hyper-agitated father even once since we dropped him off? HOW IS HE DOING?!!?

We will get over it, I suppose; parents always do. But for us first-timers, our previous experiences with Bryn have proved wholly inadequate. Anxious doesn’t even begin to describe our state of distress. Our plight is exacerbated by the fact that Seth’s departure leaves us as empty-nesters for the first time, with no one but Barnum, the Moron Dog, to comfort us. So far it isn’t working.

What does comfort me is this: I know Seth’s cause and I know his heart. And I see firsthand the impact that the gospel of Jesus Christ has on the lives of those who embrace it. Faithless cynics might assert that the Church should keep its beliefs to itself, that traveling the world in search of new members is somehow inappropriate. But I see these things from a very different perspective. As bishop, I have the unique privilege of seeing the lives of new (and longtime) members of the LDS Church from behind the scenes. I see darkness dissipate as people accept the teachings of Jesus and allow His Atonement to lift their spirits and heal their broken hearts. And when that darkness lifts, I see their lives transformed by light as hope, faith and truth inform their choices and fill their beings. It’s glorious.

Seth will offer all of that to the people of Paraguay and Argentina. Most will have no interest. But those who listen earnestly and embrace his message will bless his name forever. If my wife and I have to suffer a little separation anxiety in the interim, it’s a small price to pay.

But do we really have to wait till Wednesday?

PW

She Who Loses Her Life Shall Find It

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20176 Comments

Mom Hand

Dear Will:

I’m sorry that I have not written for a while. Truth be told, I’ve started down this path a half a dozen times and have been unable to find my footing. So tonight I’m simply going to start walking and see where it leads.

On the Friday entering Memorial Day weekend my mother, Becky, passed away. She was 91. Having lived a full and blessed life, she was ready to move on to “what’s next.” The last year of her life wasn’t easy, given the gradual decline of her body, and she admitted that she would just as soon be done with it all. She told me, in fact, that she was curious to see what’s it’s like on the other side. (Me too.) So now she knows, and you and I are left to wonder.

I said she lived a blessed life, and I think it would be fair to say that she died a blessed death as well. She pretty much stayed away from the hospital, and since my father left her with sufficient savings she could afford to stay in her home where we could sit and visit and hold hands until the very end. We found a saintly woman to look after her most days, and when she couldn’t, my brother, sister, and equally saintly sister-in-law filled in the rest. On the day she passed away, my mother’s home was filled with laughter and love and many of the people she cared about most.

Just before she died, those of us who were with her circled her bed for a family prayer. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes later that she slipped away, so quietly that, even though we were right there beside her, we didn’t even notice at first. There was no drama. No trauma. She simply stopped breathing. It was very sweet.

If you had been at the funeral, you would have heard this recurring thought: My mother was the most unselfish person imaginable. Her life reflected an unwavering commitment to doing what would make other people happy—because that’s what made her happy as well. I think that’s what the Savior had in mind when He taught that she who loses her life shall find it (Matthew 10:39). She gave and gave until she had nothing left to give. And yet, as I think I have mentioned before (for example here and here and here), I continue to benefit from her many, many gifts.

The death of a loved one is one of those moments in which we are all forced to confront one of the central questions of all existence: Is that all? In that instant when her heart stopped pumping, did Becky Watkins cease to be? Or does life continue in some other form? Even for those of us who faithfully show up for Sunday School (and occasionally dash off letters like this one), we must consider whether or not we actually believe what we say.

So for the record: I do believe. I believe Jesus, who said: “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live” (John 11:25). I believe Paul, who wrote: “For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:21-22). And I believe my mother, who taught me these things when I was a small boy and continued to reinforce them throughout my life. I have no doubt that my mother lives on and that we shall be reunited some day.

And so I do not mourn her passing. But do I miss her? Every single day.

PW