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By Gregory Taggart, November 3, 2012 10:41 am

So this morning, I followed a link on Twitter to a story in Politico and learned something about Mitt Romney (and therefore me) that I had never supposed. Apparently journalist and WSJ contributor Paul Levy doesn’t think much of Mitt Romney (and therefore me):

“It’s very simple: I think Romney [and therefore me] is a dangerous religious freak whose election [not mine] will cripple America,” said Levy, who has donated $225 to Obama this year.

In the early morning–I was still in bed, reading on my smartphone–that was bad enough. But then I realized that Levy’s was the only quote in the story wherein any of the people quoted gave a reason for their contribution. Worse still, that quote appeared in the 4th paragraph–just 14 short lines in even shorter paragraphs–into the story, with no similarly outrageous reference to President Obama being a closet Muslim to balance the tale. An in-kind campaign contribution to the Obama campaign if you will–in an article about journalists contributing actual dollars to campaigns. (I wonder if they can spell IRONY at Politico.)

Well, you can imagine how I felt. I immediately sought refuge among my friends on Facebook. Wrong move that. Quicker than a Mormon man jumping from one polygamous bed to the next, I stumbled upon the following gem on Joanna Brooks’s wall:

It seems that Lisa, apparently and entirely unaware of her audience, decided it would be nice to establish her street creds as one who can separate the wheat from the chaff. Speaking for those in Lisa’s version of chaff (I live in Utah Country), I’ll report that thresher she is not.

Anyway, I’m now awake, and even though I was awaken rudely, I am fine. I’m sure Paul and Lisa would want to know that.

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By Gregory Taggart, September 30, 2012 2:58 pm

Back in the summer of 1995, I was sitting on a grassy hill in the middle of UC-Berkeley’s campus with my daughter Caroline. It was new-student orientation week, and she and I were there to be oriented before she began school that fall. We had driven to Berkeley from Provo, Utah, our home for the previous four years and just 45 minutes down I-15 from Salt Lake City, the epicenter of Mormonism. Now if Mormonism teaches anything besides Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith, and the Book of Mormon, it teaches about the importance of families. We have Family Home Evening. We have the song “Families Can Be Together Forever.” We have temples where families are sealed together for “time and all eternity.” We have “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” In short, Mormons like families. It’s not much of an exaggeration to say that some of us may actually believe Mormons invented the family.

So there I was sitting on that hill with my daughter in the middle of possibly the most liberal college campus in the United States, across the Bay from possibly the most liberal city in the U.S. and the second largest city in maybe the most liberal state in the Union–sorry Massachusetts. And what did I see? Hundreds of mothers and fathers sitting on the same grassy hill with their sons and daughters, eating box lunches before the afternoon’s activities. Their children, like my daughter, were about to separate from their family and move on. Then it hit me: Most, if not all, of those parents were not from Utah. Few were Mormon. Yet, like me, they were excited for their children’s future even as they were anxious for their safety. Like me, they were going to miss their children. Like mine, their family was about to be changed forever. I laughed because I realized that I had spent so much time in the Utah Bubble that I had almost come to think that Mormons had the corner on families. Seeing all those mothers and fathers on that grassy hill brought me back to reality.

Now Utah doesn’t have a corner on bubbles either. I’m mean count ’em: There’s the Beltway Bubble, the Liberal Bubble, the Media Bubble, the Conservative Bubble. Bubbles here, bubbles there, bubbles everywhere. The world is a virtual Lawrence Welk Show.

With that in mind, I’d like to step outside my Conservative Bubble for a moment to point you towards a blog post by Nina Camic, a law professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She tells the story of her stint as an au pair to the daughter of Arthur Ochs Sulzberger. Upon hearing about his recent death, she wrote:

A pause for reflection.

I came to live in the States as an adult (if you can call 18 adult) because of the goodness of a person who died today. I was an au pair to his little girl. I learned through him and his wife how to transition from Warsaw to New York again. I came with barely a flight bag full of clothes and possessions and joined a household that had a staff of helpers and an extended family of cousins, aunts, nephews — all intensely close, bonded in ways that history sometimes bonds people because of unusual circumstances. That I was treated kindly is such an understatement that I can’t even quite say it. The father of my charge will always in my mind be the person who liked nothing better than to drive away from the city, to the country home, fire up the grill and throw some meats for an evening supper with just his little girl, his wife and the au pair from Poland. After dinner, he and I would clean up in the kitchen and if I learned how to wipe down every last inch of counterspace it was because he taught me well. He was too kind for words and his little girl was just like him, making my au pair duties about the easiest that could be.

So, my thoughts are very much with the kids he leaves behind. Kids… How oddly stated! Kids. We were that once.

Yup, we were all kids once, and we’re all grown-ups now, men and women. Most of us, most of the time, are even good grown-ups. In the last days of this never-ending and way overheated presidential election, it’s worth remembering that even the former publisher and CEO of The New York Times–that bête noire of conservatives everywhere–was a kid once and was, apparently, a very good, kind, and generous man.

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By Gregory Taggart, September 22, 2012 10:32 am

So Mormon author (and sometimes critic of Mormonism) Joanna Brooks is all a-Twitter about the need for a big-tent Mormonism.

Just don’t give Mitt Romney the address to the tent.

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By Gregory Taggart, June 14, 2012 11:35 am

From The New York Times.

Like the author, I’m tired of the quibbling over semantics.

Unlike the author, I kind of like the sappy ads.

Oh well.

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By Gregory Taggart, April 2, 2012 9:53 pm

Yesterday was the second and last day of what we Mormons refer to as General Conference, an annual gathering in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City. We also hold a semi-annual General Conference in October. In both cases, the Conference takes place on the first Sunday of the month. The annual General Conference takes place in April because the Church was organized on April 6, 1830.

All that to say this: the last day of General Conference fell on Palm Sunday this year. That’s not a big problem for Mormons because, though we do celebrate Christ’s resurrection on Easter, we don’t really observe Holy Week. I’m wishing we did. We certainly have no theological reason not to. The Bible story of Jesus Christ’s last week resonates with us. So much so, that the Church just published a series of excellent videos commemorating the events of that week. Treat yourself to them. It will be time well-spent.

I’ve decided to observe Holy Week this year. I’m not sure how, so I guess I’ll figure it out as I go. Today, I’ll begin by celebrating Palm Sunday–yesterday, I know. I’ll do that by uploading one of my favorite arrangements of one of my favorite hymns: Redeemer of Israel, arranged by Mac Wilberg. Before I do, I need to tell the story of my first experience with the arrangement.

Wilberg was teaching at BYU at the time, and my sister Megan was a member of his choir, The BYU Singers, BYU’s best choir. It was Sunday, and Megan and the choir were singing in Wilberg’s ward in Provo, so I attended the service with her husband Jon Carling. The choir sang Redeemer of Israel as the closing song for the meeting. Since we often sang the hymn in our sacrament meeting–the principle worship service in the Church–I was listening, but not really paying close attention until suddenly in the last verse Wilberg asked the congregation to join in and at the same moment the women voices in the choir soared to angelic heights. All I remember after that is hearing people sniffling and blowing their noses during the prayer. Like me, they were all sobbing at what they had just heard.

With that out of the way, here’s Redeemer of Israel. Don’t miss the last verse.

Redeemer of Israel
Redeemer of Israel,
Our only delight,
On whom for a blessing we call,
Our shadow by day
And our pillar by night,
Our King, our Deliv’rer, our all!

We know he is coming
To gather his sheep
And lead them to Zion in love,
For why in the valley
Of death should they weep
Or in the lone wilderness rove?

How long we have wandered
As strangers in sin
And cried in the desert for thee!
Our foes have rejoiced
When our sorrows they’ve seen,
But Israel will shortly be free.

As children of Zion,
Good tidings for us.
The tokens already appear.
Fear not, and be just,
For the kingdom is ours.
The hour of redemption is near.

Restore, my dear Savior,
The light of thy face;
Thy soul-cheering comfort impart;
And let the sweet longing
For thy holy place
Bring hope to my desolate heart.

He looks! and ten thousands
Of angels rejoice,
And myriads wait for his word;
He speaks! and eternity,
Filled with his voice,
Re-echoes the praise of the Lord.

Text: William W. Phelps

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By Gregory Taggart, March 11, 2012 12:15 pm

American folk hymn (NETTLETON)
Arrangement by Mack Wilberg
Come, Thou Fount of ev’ry blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy help I’m come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wand’ring from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, as a fetter,
Bind my wand’ring heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

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By Gregory Taggart, March 8, 2012 3:31 pm

I support Romney. And I’ve tired of the ridiculous questions about his religion. Most I’ve read have betrayed more about the questioner than they ever will about Romney or his Mormonism. That said, there are legitimate questions. Sarah Posner, Senior Editor at Religion Dispatches, has an article at Salon.com where she asks some of them. What about Blacks and the Mormon priesthood? What about Mormonism and feminism, particularly in the 70s and 80s? And so on. Sarah’s tone is generally fair, as are the questions she asks. I’m interested in how Romney would answer them. Judging by what I’ve already heard about how he felt about the priesthood ban and by what I’ve read in stories like Peggy Stack’s 2008 article for the Salt Lake Tribune, I think he’d do just fine.

That said, the questions do present a problem that Posner fails to acknowledge. Responding to even these appropriate questions involves going deeper into Mormon belief than even the most interested journalist may be willing to go. And that might result in a poor, even unfair story being written by a reporter who tuned out as soon as she heard the bit she wanted to hear. To me, that’s one reason Romney may be reluctant to talk about his religion. Like me, he surely holds his beliefs sacred. Like me, he probably would rather that people understood how the Book of Mormon impacts how he deals with some of these difficult issues. Allow me to give an example of what I’m talking about.

I grew up in the 60s and served my mission in the Brazil North Mission from June 1971 to June 1973, before the 1978 so-called Revelation on the Priesthood. I supported the practice of not extending the priesthood to Blacks. Now, stop there, and I’m a racist. But that’s not even close to the truth. The truth is, I wasn’t a member of the Church because of the ban; I was a member in spite of it. And even that statement just scratches the surface of the story of me and the priesthood ban.

So imagine you’re a reporter, and you want me to go beneath that surface. Do you have the time and interest to hear me explain what I mean by what I just said? Are you ready for me to go into what the Book of Mormon means in my belief system and how it affects so much of what I do? Are you willing to listen to, then write fairly about, what the idea of living prophets means to me and why that belief would affect how I dealt with the priesthood ban? How receptive will you be to the evidence I would muster to demonstrate to you that I have always–always–treated people of color with love, that I have never condescended to them, that I’ve tried to treat everybody everywhere as equals, and so on?

If I were Romney and I could be sure that I’d get a fair hearing and that the writer would report my responses fairly, honestly, and without any mind reading, I’d jump at the chance to talk about the priesthood ban and any other Mormon questions they might have. But like Romney, I have doubts that would happen, and so I hold back. My sacred and deeply held beliefs don’t fit on bumper stickers. They aren’t made–aren’t appropriate–for 15 second sound bites. They just aren’t. Unfortunately, the political public seems to thrive on a diet of gossamer statements truncated to fit on the rear fender. And there’s the conundrum.

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By Gregory Taggart, March 3, 2012 11:06 am

Okay, so I’m a Facebook friend with Bruce Bartlett, a one-time big player in D.C., still a player, largely in the economics and tax policy sandbox. He posts on Facebook a lot and has a pretty good following. I toy with de-friending him now and again because he is quite negative generally and very negative when it comes to Republicans. A former member of the party–under Reagan, IIRC–he has since left the party and cannot help himself when it comes to taking potshots at the idiotic Right (his favorite word has to be idiot).

Anyway, yesterday he linked to a story on Slate about the recent Randy Bott controversy and attendant bruhah over Blacks and the Mormon priesthood. (More on that later.) Among other things–and ironically it turns out, given the question Slate posed in the title of the article, “Is Mormonism Still Racist?”–the conversation in on Bartlett’s wall revealed some, shall we say, revealing attitudes about Mormonism:

I rarely stand silently by when people go off on my religion like that, so I entered the fray:

I have no idea where the conversation has gone since my post. I haven’t been back. If I did return, I would ask whether those disparaging Brigham Young would like to have one quote, one aspect of their lives–that part they would be most ashamed of today–paraded around as representative of their entire life. I think I know what the answer would be.

Did Brigham Young have his faults? Yes. Is his quote about interracial marriage offensive? Yes, certainly today, probably then–only much less so. (Presentism is a fallacy we should avoid, by the way.) Does it tell of the whole man? I think not, not even close. And by the way, Brigham was known for firery rhetoric, words he used to stress the importance of what he was saying, but words he never intended to follow through on. I would venture that the interracial marriage rhetoric fits that bill. Yes, he thought interracial marriage was wrong. No, he never intended to kill anybody for marrying someone of another race.

Now, about that Slate article. Therein, the author tells of an informal survey/video that went viral. Apparently a number of BYU students were pretty weak on Black history (emphasis mine):

Just this past month, the BYU campus became embroiled in a controversy concerning racism—or, at the very least, racial insensitivity and ignorance. In a satirical celebration of black history month, comedian David Ackerman dressed in a hoodie, Utah Jazz gear, and blackface, and quizzed BYU students on their knowledge of African-American history. On the video, which went viral, BYU students failed to correctly identify February as black history month and failed to name important black American figures beyond Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. (The rapper 50 Cent was also named as a hero of black history.) And Ackerman succeeded in getting his painfully naive interviewees to imitate what they believed to be typical black behavior, with finger snapping, the “gangsta limp,” and jive talk all making appearances.

According to Darron Smith—an African-American convert to Mormonism and a BYU alum who, from 1996 to 2006, taught a course there called “The African American Experience”—Ackerman’s video reveals that problematic attitudes about race are not limited to “older generations” of Mormons. Ackerman “provided a microphone for today’s BYU students (even the few black BYU students) to voice their ignorance about the black experience in America.” And while you might very well see something similar at other “isolated, conservative” college campuses around the country, in Smith’s view, the deference of BYU students to church authority makes church leaders responsible for such ignorance—a point now driven home by Bott’s remarks. Smith places the lion’s share of the blame on BYU’s administration. (Smith’s own contract at BYU was not renewed in 2006.)

This indictment is patently unfair. Time was that BYU’s student body came largely from Utah and the intermountain west. That’s no longer the case. Today, 33% of the students are from Utah, 67% from other states. Thirty-six percent come from California (12%), Washington (5%), Texas (5%), Arizona (4%), Colorado (3%), Oregon (3%), Nevada (2%), and Virginia (2%). These students come to BYU with an average GPA of 3.82 (2011) and have SATs to match. Many of these students have served missions throughout the world. In short, they are not blindered, stupid people. They’ve been around. They are simply students, many recently graduated from high school, and they–like their white peers in virtually any and every college across the country–don’t know that much about Black history*. Is that an indictment of BYU, the Mormon Church, or our high schools? I think we all know the answer.

*Of course, this is my hunch. Challenge me, and we’ll all learn the truth. Otherwise, I’ll go with my hunch because I don’t have the time to back up my hunch with research.

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By Gregory Taggart, March 2, 2012 9:50 am

Without comment: