WHY I STAY

Christian Kimball

Sunstone 2019

PART I: STORIES

In 1988 while visiting at the J. Reuben Clark Law School, filling in for a tax professor who was serving as a mission president, I received a call from my best friend in Chicago. With emotion in his voice, he told me he was a high bottom alcoholic and had entered a 12-step program. On one level he was calling to apologize for conversations while drunk where I hadn’t known. Surprisingly that hurt. I felt deceived, even though I’m not aware of any harm done except to the relationship. On a different level he said he felt the need for religion in his life and asked my advice. 

I recognized a so-called golden opportunity. We all know the script. But I was conflicted for some reason and put him off. Early the next morning I hiked up Y Mountain above Rock Canyon. I found a relatively flat place and watched the sun rise, lighting the opposite side of the valley first. Before full light I knelt in prayer and asked what I should do. I heard as clear a voice as I ever have experienced saying “tell him to return to the church of his childhood, where he will be supported as he needs.” That was the Catholic church. 

In the ensuing five or six years I came to understand that whether that voice was external—God talking to me—or internal—a creation of my own mind—the lesson was clear—that I fundamentally did not believe in a “one and only,” whether Mormon—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—or Catholic, or any other. It was not an argument. Not a reasoned debate or analysis. It was an awakening to my reality. “One and only” is not me.

So why stay?

Some years later at a birthday celebration, my friend Judy asked me in hushed tones “are you still Mormon?” Her never-Mormon-but-steeped-in-the-culture husband Jim overheard the question and laughed. “Of COURSE he is Mormon, he can’t be anything else!” he said.

Not an argument. Not a debate. Not even a question. A LAUGH. In a cultural, family-of-origin, genealogical, dyed-in-the-wool sense, I am Mormon. 

In a sense staying is to return to the church of my childhood. 

   ------------------

In 1996, shortly after orchestrating my release as a bishop of an older single adult ward at the barely two-year mark, I knelt in agonized painful prayer in the topmost room in our house. I don’t remember even asking a question. Just playing out my pain. But the consequences were remarkable in a number of ways. It was truly a life changing event.

One of the significant things that happened was my knees shaking in witness that they would refuse to walk into a Church interview. Perhaps even more remarkable is that I listened, recognizing my knees as me and not something to override by force of will. In effect I learned that I was done with the Church worthiness system. No more interviews. I wrote a note to my new bishop and walked it over with my temple recommend, saying that while the recommend was still valid so far as I knew, it was not right to keep it when I knew that I would not sit for an interview again. 

That was 23 years ago. I am in the same place today. I quizzed my knees a couple of months ago and they started shaking. Seriously. 

So when I talk about staying in the Church, it is a church without a worthiness system, a church without interviews. Maybe unrecognizable to many. Not the same church I hear others struggle with. 

To be clear, that church I stay in is not the product of analysis or new discoveries or disappointment. That church is simply where my knees have taken me. 

Like others before me, and with me, and—I am sure—in front of me, I have in practical effect defined my own church. One that happens to have The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints engraved on the front, but that is unmistakably carved in my image. 

So why stay? Or can this even be called “staying”?

I recall the Edwin D. Woolley story. After a somewhat heated discussion in their advanced years, President Brigham Young remarked caustically to Edwin D. Woolley, “Well, I suppose now you are going to go off and apostatize.” “No, I won’t,” retorted Edwin. “If this were your church I might, but it’s just as much mine as it is yours.”

I suspect they both had different meanings than I insert for my self-centered purposes, but I do in fact take comfort in my great-great-grandfather’s line, “it is just as much mine as it is yours.” 

Staying is to be in that church that is just as much mine as it is yours.

    ---------------------

In 2007 a cancer was discovered in my body, one that had grown to occupy all the empty space in my abdomen. The best treatment available was a barbaric 17-hour surgery that removed 35 pounds of stuff, including tumor but also 13 different pieces or parts that came with the original.

I believed I would not survive the operating table. But the cancer was certain death without surgery. So my decision came down to picking a surgeon.

Obviously I did survive the surgery. (12 years! Hurrah.) And the net effect is waking to a new life. It is not far wrong to say I have experienced a near death experience and an early resurrection. And the joke is that it’s resurrection without a belly button! 

Without a navel is a fact. It’s not medically important, and not particularly rare or unusual. Major surgery in the abdomen will do that. But it serves as a constant reminder that I am not the person I used to be, not the person I ever expected to be, not the person my mother made or wanted or expected. 

I am left uncertain of everything. Not clear about who I am or what I think or know or remember. Living one day at a time.

Missing all these parts, am I still the son of Ed and Bee Kimball? Or am I better thought of as the construct of a talented surgeon? I muse on Frankenstein and his monster, where of course I am the monster. 

After six weeks on morphine and other opiates, titrated to barely manage pain, I know that I don’t know my own mind. I know altered states that feel entirely normal, states that—unlike many dreams—I cannot tell apart from what most of us think of as sane and sober. I now know that my memory is plastic, that I cannot be sure of even what happened yesterday. The Matrix is all too real, and red pill or blue pill really matters.

I no longer have an interest in heaven or the Plan of Salvation or an afterlife or even a long life. I’ve spent enough hours living 10 minutes at a time that my horizon has shrunk down to one day.

I don’t care about truth claims. I don’t care about Church history. I don’t care about Church policies. To be sure, I do care deeply about how these things affect people I love, and I have moments of black despair over the pain I have witnessed. But for myself alone, poof!

On the happier side:

Every day is precious. Relationships matter. I am surprised by joy and it is a daily occurrence. 

I am focused on the present. This earth. This life. I can get interested in making this world a garden place, in building Zion in the here and now. 

And I resonate to Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying”:

When asked what do you do when you get that kind of news, he said:


"I went skydiving


I went Rocky Mountain climbing


I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu


And I loved deeper


And I spoke sweeter


And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying


Someday I hope you get the chance


To live like you were dying"

So again, why do I stay? 

The truth is that it has become almost arbitrary. This is the punch line I’ve worried about for weeks. Expecting that your reaction will be that I am a fraud. Or that this is completely not helpful. But I’m afraid almost arbitrary is almost all I’ve got.

Why do I stay here, rather than there? Sometimes I say it’s because I know the hymnal. But I think the better line comes from my grandmother Camilla (as my unreliable memory tells it), when she said “bloom where you’re planted.” 

I was planted deep in Mormon soil. This is where I belong. This is where I bloom. 

    -------------

If you are looking for the long struggle, the difficult resolution, the answers that help and support, I’m afraid you need to look elsewhere. If you are looking for reasons to stay in full fellowship in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as defined and delineated by the Prophets, Seers, and Revelators, I’m afraid you need to look elsewhere. 

For me, just for me, I stay on my terms in the church of my definition, without stress or tension, without a grand struggle, with a very light touch, on the back of three one-line aphorisms: 

>I can’t be anything else.

>It is just as much mine as it is yours.

>I bloom where I’m planted.

PART II: GOD OF STARFISH AND BLACK DWARF STARS

That [Part I] is my story. That’s the easy part. Not easy in the living, but easy in the telling. Stories have beginnings and endings and in the telling sound inevitable. 

Now let’s move to the present, recognizing that it’s a puzzle in pieces, not yet assembled.

In response to and trying to make sense of the Exclusion Policy, in late 2015 I wrote a piece titled “Anger, Marriage, and the Mormon Church.” That could be a whole separate talk, but for today’s topic the very last line keeps coming to mind, where I advocate:

“Worship a God who encompasses all of creation in all of its endless variety.”

I wrote that line as a plea, then discovered it was my journey—where my heart is taking me. I puzzle about God. I think about theodicies. I don’t have answers, at least not answers I can talk about. From an orthodox point of view the most likely label at the moment is agnostic. But this I can say: 

My imagination requires that any God worth my time and attention is also a God of Starfish and Black Dwarf Stars. 

Starfish because their true pentamerism—fivefold symmetry—is an easy reminder of the incredible variety of life, and puts to the question any privileging of bilaterally symmetrical upright hominids with heterosexual inclinations and particular skin color and facial features. 

Black dwarf stars because they are a reminder to me of the size and time of creation. A black dwarf is a theoretical stellar remnant--basically a white dwarf that has cooled sufficiently to no longer emit significant radiation. It is estimated that the 13.8 billion years of this universe is not yet long enough for black dwarf stars to exist. 

Any God worth my time and attention is that big. Big enough to be a God of Starfish and Black Dwarf Stars.

One problem that weighs on me is that I am finding it hard to talk about these things with a Mormon vocabulary. Despite being planted deep in Mormon soil, native and fluent, more and more often now I can’t sound Mormon.

It’s a kind of forced silencing. Not by mandate from above but by structure and language. And a real challenge to the whole concept of “staying.” 

It might be most appropriate to stop there with puzzlement. But I’m inclined to take one step further, to share my musings on where do I go from here?

One direction is to reflect on one of the most profound experiences of my life, what I would label a “god experience” if I wanted to package it for a Mormon audience. Without describing my particular experience in detail, let me put it in a class of experiences that I read and hear about. Experiences that are reported as an encounter with something greater, that are described as an overwhelming sense of being Loved or being Known or being Connected to all living things. A really big picture experience. 

What’s important for this forum is the reaction—my reaction, and the reaction of others as shared with me—to come off that sort of experience with an "I don't care" attitude. I don't care to explain. I don't care to analyze. I don't care where it came from. I don't care to pick it apart. I was there. It has changed me in ways that feel permanent. I am happy to simply rest in the peace and joy and discovery of the moment.

So one possible response to forced silence is acceptance—that’s how it works and I don’t care. In other words, my god-experience, my explorations and understandings and puzzlements, are almost entirely unrelated to institutional churches or my Mormon traditions, and if words fail me that’s just fine.

A second direction is to reflect on what the Church has come to mean in my life, in a functional sense rather than an intellectual sense. 

I consider myself a Christian who practices with Mormons. As a Christian, I am moved to find community and communion.

 

In the Mormon practice, among my people, people who remind themselves regularly of Alma’s call to mourn with those that mourn, to comfort those that stand in need of comfort, to stand as witnesses of God, among these people I find community. 

In the Mormon practice, with a Eucharistic sharing most Sundays, the Sacrament with physical tokens, the bread and the water, with people who go out of their way to see that I can participate . . .  in this Christian Mormon practice, I find communion. 

Community and Communion. It is enough.

 Where I am in Belief

Posted at ByCommonConsent 17 December 2018

There has been an unusual flurry of talk lately about “Middle Way Mormons.” The Salt Lake Tribune (Peggy Fletcher Stack); By Common Consent (Sam Brunson); Wheat and Tares (a series); and even Times and Seasons ran a piece.  I commented, I provided background, I was quoted, but I have resisted doing my own “how it is” counter-essay.  Until now.

I’m a “Middle Way Mormon” by everybody’s definition.  It’s not my label—I prefer “Christian who practices with Mormons.”  But it’s better than the alternatives on offer. This is not a to-be-wished-for designation—a high ranking Church leader sympathized with me about “living on a knife edge.”  It’s just a label for a modern reality.

Somewhere in the middle of all the commentary, George Andrew Spriggs observed that “successful Middle Way Mormons . . . undercut the traditional boundaries and truth claims about the church.”  This observation challenged me to describe the church I belong to.  I have tried this before, and the reaction has been “no—doesn’t exist, you’re wrong, that isn’t a thing—just no.” Because of this history, exposing myself this way is scary.

This is long.  This is personal.  This is my opinion.  For today.   (It may change.)  This is also my life, the real stuff.  Reportage, not polemic.  You should not be like me.  You have been warned.

* * *

As a Christian who practices with members and at the meetings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes my choices come down to tradition and a hymnal. At the same time, I am officially a member of the Church.  I haven’t resigned.  I value my baptism.  I take the sacrament with intent.

So what is this Church I belong to?  As I see it.  As I live it.

I view Joseph Smith as one of the religious geniuses of the 19th century, a man who had a theophany, from whom and through whom several books of scripture came to be, who experimented and collected and assembled a religious vision. And a prophet, in the sense of receiving the word of God and a charge to speak it.

Not necessarily a good man.  Not right all the time.  Not necessarily true to his own insights.  Not always consistent.

I view founding a church, restoring priesthood, organizing ordinances and sacraments, and developing temple practices, as 19th century syncretic work by well-meaning men choosing from among existing Christian traditions.

I view the Book of Mormon as a 19th century creation.  I read it as scripture.  I find the subtitle “Another Testament of Jesus Christ” the most correct and useful description.  The Church uses the Book of Mormon as a ‘proof of history.’  I don’t find value in that approach.  The Church does not (very much) rely on the Book of Mormon for administration or theology.  But I do read the Book of Mormon for theology and Christology and more.  What I read impresses me as certain versions of New Testament Christian, Pauline, and even Trinitarian traditions, with flourishes.

For better or worse, I don’t find much value or spend much time with the Doctrine & Covenants or the Pearl of Great Price.  I try to remain conversant, but in the limited sense of staying relevant in the community and not as a religious or devotional practice.

My understanding of prophets is that their job is to speak the words God gives them (not to speak “for God”).  In that vein I consider Joseph Smith and other Church leaders as prophets.  My operating assumption is that when a person is called to be a prophet, a tiny percentage of his or her words will turn out to be God’s words, they won’t necessarily know which are which themselves, and they may not understand the meaning or relevance of the words they are directed to say.

As a practical consequence, I apply a 50/50 skepticism even to statements labeled “the word of the Lord,” which looks like a cafeteria approach to General Conference talks and to the Doctrine & Covenants.  For example, I view D&C 1:30 as an exaggeration, D&C 22 as the natural human expression of a restorationist mindset, and D&C 132 as a mistake—a confusing version of a Joseph Smith insight driven by a mixture of Bible study, wishful thinking, and domestic conflict.

Because I understand prophets (historically) to be mostly misunderstood outsiders with a revolutionary message, I think the Church’s practice of combining the prophet and president roles is problematic.  I look for other prophets in addition to Church leaders.

I do not have a sense of divine destiny about the Church.  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the survivor of a series of existential crises.  A succession crisis.  A crisis over polygamy.  A crisis over financial viability.  A crisis over the participation of men and women of relatively recent African descent.  We tell the survival story after the fact, but I don’t view survival as predetermined.  I can imagine the Church failing any one of the past crises. I can imagine the Church failing the next one.

I see the Church in crisis now.  Its dealing with challenges to an identity myth built on a heavily manipulated white-washed history — alongside a theology built around eternal gender essentialism which makes it difficult to incorporate principles of feminism and to include non-binary persons in the Plan.  I do not know whether the Church will survive. More accurately, I don’t know what the survivor will look like and how I will relate to it.

The Church offers a rich selection of Sacraments (ordinances) and a variety of rituals, which belong in a Christian practice and which I appreciate and celebrate.  Not as unique or indispensable, but as valuable and inspiring.

On the other hand, embedded in Church practice are secret loyalty oath covenants, and an interview and disciplinary system serving up bishops as judges, that make idols of the institutional Church and its human leaders.  I reject and avoid these parts of Church practice.

I view the institutional and administrative practices as built on good intentions (“guided by the spirit”).  Most leaders are sincere and trying to do right.  I have seen some frauds and some thieves, and too much abuse—ecclesiastical, emotional, sexual—but the most common sin of Church leaders is sucking up (managing up or making the boss happy or working for the next promotion).

I observe that good intentions are not the same as decision by principle, or decision by consensus or vote, or decision by systematic observation and experiment.  Good intentions do not guarantee results.  I do not see evidence of unusual foresight in Church decision making.  I do not see a better than ordinary record of good decisions.  I do see some very bad decisions.

Finally, the Church has almost nothing to do with my lived and living experience with God (the real thing, not doctrine or description, philosophy or religion) or my personal devotional life including my prayers.  I consider them separate worlds.

Affirmation 1998

Affirmation Conference-1998

© Christian E. Kimball, September 1998.

From 1994 to 1996 I served as a bishop in a single adult ward in Cambridge, MA. I am no longer serving as a bishop. But there is an image that sticks with me from that time. In detail this is no one person, but the essence of this story came up a number of times

Imagine a young man sitting in the bishop’s office. He says: "I am gay. I hope to find a partner and expect that with that partner I will have a sexual relationship. That partner will be a man. So I'm not going to follow the Church's rule. I already know that. All bets are off. None of the rules work, nothing that I learned in Primary and in Mutual applies. But I've been dating a man and the relationship is too physical. It doesn't feel right. What should I do?"

All too often the answer to this question is "don't . . . just don’t, and we have nothing more to say." A natural reply is then "goodbye."

That should not be. The Church can and should and must serve to bring the joy of the gospel to all people. Not just the heterosexual married man working 9-to-5 and never on Sunday with a wife at home and 3.5 kids arriving at church in a minivan.

There must be more to say. There is more to say. And it can be said.

First, I need to clarify who I am to be speaking on this subject.

On the positive side, I am a husband, a father, a son. I am a lawyer and a teacher and a student. I have had some experience talking with people about sex, principally in my role as a student, as a father, and for a short but intense period as a bishop.

On the other hand, I am not gay. Also, I am not a therapist, a counselor, an analyst, a demographer. I can talk about the people I know and the experiences I have had, but I can't tell you how most people think, or how a statistically valid representative sample think.

I am not a church leader. Not that Church leaders necessarily understand homosexuality or could speak to how things really work, but the Church is powerful and important for most of us. It is part of the definition of this group. A spokesman for the Church might be very interesting. But I do not speak for the church. I do not have any position of authority in the church. I have served in many callings in the Mormon Church. Most notably, as a bishop I met quite a number of gay men and women. I encountered and wrestled with the statements of Church leaders about homosexuality. As a bishop I argued - in writing, in discussion with the Stake President, and I hope in my own actions -- for equal treatment and room, within the range of what I thought possible in the Church today. "Equal treatment" meaning that sexual orientation would not be a factor in church callings or involvement, and that heterosexual and homosexual activity would be judged on an equal footing. "Room" meaning an allowance for or tolerance for those (het or gay) who consciously choose to be sexually active although not married, without a constant push to change or an escalating disciplinary process. A way to participate and worship on an ongoing basis without "in the process of change" implied in probation, and without the stigma of disfellowshipment or excommunication.

My experience as bishop is very much the reason I have anything to say. Not that I would necessarily believe any differently. I don't know that. But in that setting I was forced to confront my beliefs and to explicate them.

However, I am not a bishop now. To the extent that position gives any authority - and whether or not it is technically or theologically correct, whether or not a good thing, in practice Mormons cede to the bishop a lot of authority -- it is first of all only with respect to a particular ward, a particular congregation. And second, it isn't me. Not now. Not for several years. I do not speak for the church in any way.  I have no authority, no power, beyond the sound of my voice and the power of reason tempered with love and empathy. I am here because I was invited.

Finally, and this is very important, I am not an apologist. I know the role of an apologist-one who explains or rationalizes or justifies. I have spent most of my adult life doing just that. I have worked hard at saying "yes, there are problems and people hurt and some things don't make sense, but if you look more closely or think hard enough and carefully enough, the Church and the gospel really do make sense and really do work." I am actually pretty good at that. But I don't do it any longer. This might be the greatest disappointment for some in the audience, who would hope that I could reconcile seemingly conflicted messages or meanings, who would like to hear some way to live in the Church as a faithful sustaining committed member without psychic dissonance or major suppression. Maybe there is a great thinker who can and will perform that service. I am not that person. I know that what I have to say, what I believe, speaking from my heart, with the best that I know and feel, in some respects runs counter to the Church's position and the teaching of the general authorities.

Regarding homosexuality, there are three or four basic understandings or beliefs that I have come to over time.

First, based on the experiences I have had, research others have done, and the people I know with their many and varied stories, I believe that sexual orientation is a function of four things:

genetics, which may be synonymous or at least functionally indistinguishable from pre-existence or the eternal and essential "I",

nurture, almost all of which has its impact very young,

conscious teenage and adult opportunity and experience,

and  choice.

The mix is probably different for each person. It certainly seems so for the people I know.

Notwithstanding the possibility of conscious opportunity and choice, I think it is wrong to assume that people choose. For most people sexual orientation seems to be fixed well before the age of 8, which I pick because of the obvious reference to an age of accountability at baptism.

Second is the question of whether people can change their sexual orientation. I believe that for almost everybody, gay or straight, orientation does not change and no force of will can make it change. This is the operating belief I have, based on all the evidence I have.

I want to qualify that point in a couple of ways:

First, it is fairly clear to me that some people who have suffered sexual abuse, especially as a child, can be confused about their sexual preferences in a variety of ways. Such individuals may believe at some times or for some time that they are homosexual, and later sort through enough of the effects of the abuse that they come to a clearer understanding and feeling about themselves as heterosexual. Or may believe that they are heterosexual, and later come to a clearer understanding and feeling about themselves as homosexual.

Second, this is a big world, and while I don't happen to know anybody for whom this is true, I suspect that there are people for whom genetics and nurture and experience come out just about balanced between same-sex and opposite-sex orientation, for whom choice really is the determining factor.

With these exceptions noted, it seems to me that people do not and can not change their sexual orientation.

So I believe that sexual orientation is a complex mix of causes, including some element which could fairly be called "God given." And I believe that, with some few exceptions, sexual orientation does not change. I expect that in this gathering these opinions are pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. Not controversial. Not particularly unusual.

However, it is very important that I know these are my opinions and operating assumptions, and that I know they are not shared by everyone. This is critical. Any conversation about homosexuality, about same-sex marriage, about the Church and gays, about the bible and homosexuality, about the morals of involuntary "outing"-pick your topic, there are many-is almost impossible or almost certainly futile without some convergence of opinion on these fairly basic points. There are people who firmly believe that heterosexual orientation is God-given, inherent and fundamental but homosexuality is a culturally constructed overlay which can be shucked off by simple choice. I will tell you that that sentence makes no sense to me-that "heterosexual orientation is God-given, but homosexual orientation is cultural and a matter of choice"-that sentence. I had to do some mental gymnastics to construct that sentence. But I'm pretty sure it is a commonly held belief. And if that's the frame from which someone starts, any discussion is likely to be very very frustrating for both of us (unless it is about those basic assumptions themselves).

Third, I believe that marriage, with all the rights and responsibilities attendant, should be available for men and women in any of the several combinations - man and woman, man and man, woman and woman. I would not open up pandora's box to a free-for-all. I don't think we know what it means or what sense to make of a mixed generation (parent-child) or blood relative (siblings) "marriage." Notwithstanding a few decades of Mormon experience in this country, and centuries of Muslim (and other) experience outside this country, I don't think we know how to think about or how to deal with multiple-partner "marriages"-more than two people. But with two adult individuals who are not previously related, it makes all the sense in the world to acknowledge and celebrate marriage and makes no sense to restrict or deny the opportunity to marry. I have heard the arguments both ways, and frankly, personally, I have reached a point of intolerance. I have a hard time understanding the opposite position and feel emotionally upset when someone tries to argue that same-sex marriage is somehow wrong or objectionable. (As a lawyer I recognize that this makes me less than an ideal advocate. I am too passionate on the subject.)

I don't just believe that same-sex marriage is OK or acceptable. I think it would be a positive good and I think it is damaging and punitive to deny such legally validated opportunity.

Fourth, I believe that a fully realized, intimate, sexual relationship between two men or two women can be good, positive, uplifting, fulfilling, holy. That doesn't mean that all such relationships are good (the same goes for heterosexual relationships). It means that an intimate sexual relationship can be a good thing, a wonderful thing . . . even without marriage.

Let me be clear that I see absolutely no movement in the Church to accept or even tolerate same-sex sexuality. There has been a marked move in the last 20 years from treating the state of being homosexual in preference as a bad thing, to one in which homosexuality as a state of being is accepted and not viewed as sinful. However, same-sex sexuality, and in fact sexual expression of any kind other than between a man and a woman within a heterosexual marriage, is viewed as sinful and shameful and the subject of discipline.

I can imagine and hope for a day when same-sex unions are celebrated in the Church. I'm not sure that will be in my lifetime. I'm not sure it will ever be. But I think it is possible. On the other hand, I have no expectation or hope that sex outside marriage will ever be approved or accepted. Maybe tolerated, on a kind of "don't ask, don't tell" basis, but that is the most I can dream of within the Church.

I know that in the Church, in the culture of the Church, it is a big step to voice the idea that same-sex sexuality is possibly good and uplifting. I suspect that in reality the big step is not the belief, but actually saying it publicly. I don't think it is such a shocking idea privately. In my conversations with people-a variety of people, mostly Mormon, both gay and straight but mostly straight, young and old-in private, quiet, safe conversations, I don't find anybody seriously believing in lifetime celibacy. It is the Church's position so far as I can discern it. I'm sure there are many who have determined that it is their life, their cross to bear. But I don't know them. I remember a comment by an older, kind of grandmotherly woman, to me. She said: "if I had a gay friend/brother/daughter/son whose sexual orientation was sufficiently clear that a heterosexual relationship was not likely, I'd probably tell him or her to look for a relationship which is trusting, loving and long-term, and to get out of the Church sooner or later and find another place to worship God." I think that sums up the feeling that a lot of people have, and have expressed to me in one way or another.

I don't want to tell anyone to leave the Church. But I think there are some irreconcilable tensions. I think these tensions are damaging and hurtful. I know that in fact many have left the Church and many more are on their way out. That concerns me. It is really the reason for this talk. What I'm afraid the Church says now, in either of my opening case, is:

"You are beyond the pale. Other than `don't' we have nothing more to say. Good bye."

One mother I talked with about this subject (not my own, by the way) said "there could not be a conversation about sex. If it were my daughter I would not stop saying "don't." I would say "don't" until I was blue in the face. The conversation would never move from that point." I'd like to suggest that with such an attitude there never will be a conversation. Her daughter would leave.

That must not be where the conversation ends. God is bigger than that.

In a sense it is easy for me to have "something to say" about sex outside of marriage, because I believe it can be a good thing. So it is important to make the argument carefully and precisely. My argument is that we-the Church, Church members, you and me-can and should talk about sex outside of marriage even if you or he or they think it is fundamentally wrong and cannot be good in any circumstance.

It is possible to respond to the young man in my first image by saying "I don't think a sexual relationship with a man is a good thing, but since you have made that choice, let's talk about the options you have-what is better, what is worse."

Move the vocabulary. Not "right" and "wrong." That stymies the process. Instead, use "better" and "worse."

The idea of talking about relative values-better and worse-rather than absolute values-right and wrong-is very troubling and new to many Mormons. The idea of starting from the other person's position, rather than insisting on a common or correct position, is for many a new idea. But it can be done.

I am aided in this process by two kinds of experience. One is my work as a transactional lawyer. Sometimes it has been my experience that my client planned an acquisition that did not make sense to me. I have said, in effect: "You have decided to buy that company. It isn't where I would spend my money, if I were in your shoes." But the conversation does not stop there. I go on to say "I will help you do it the best way possible, given your decision to make that acquisition." That is the kind of conversation we can have about sex outside marriage.

The other experience is something my mission president taught me. He said "our job is not to convert. Our job is to talk with each individual, find out where he or she is, and through our conversation and action to bring them one step closer to Christ." That is the kind of conversation we can have about sex outside marriage.

It is not easy. I can tell you this is a dangerous, difficult subject. My friends think I am a little crazy to even attempt this topic in an open forum. There are a number of stumbling blocks on the way to a conversation.

First, "we already know the answers." Like that mother, the answer is "NO."

 In the Proclamation on the Family the Church said:

"God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife."

In this sentence the phrase "sacred powers of procreation" is almost certainly euphemistic for sex.

President Kimball, never one to mince words about sex, said:

"That the Church's stand on morality may be understood, we declare firmly and unalterably, it is not an outworn garment, faded, old-fashioned, and threadbare. God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and his covenants and doctrines are immutable; and when the sun grows cold and the stars no longer shine, the law of chastity will still be basic in God's world and in the Lord's church. Old values are upheld by the Church not because they are old, but rather because through the ages they have proved right. It will always be the rule. . . . The world may countenance premarital sex experiences, but the Lord and his church condemn in no uncertain terms any and every sex relationship outside of marriage. [SWK 80-53]

So we have the answer and there is nothing to talk about. Right?

But wait a minute. What about a hug? Is that OK or not? You say OK if it is short, but not if it lasts more than 15 seconds? Where did that come from? Really? And now we are talking.

A second problem is that in typical Mormon discourse there is no variation in sin. Everything is serious. Everything is vital. We pay lip service to the idea that denying the Holy Ghost, murder and adultery are really bad because forgiveness is either unattainable or very difficult. But even little daily things we often treat as mortal sin, a matter of life and death. I think this comes of a tradition in which we describe perfection as an attainable goal. We quote Alma 45:16: "for the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance." In the face of perfection every flaw is an unacceptable failure.

I've only been able to find one quote from a general authority that allows the possibility of some gradation, so let me read it because it is so unusual:

"I hope their values will not be mixed and distorted like the man who stole the coal but would not drink a cup of coffee, or like the young girl recently who was pregnant, but so distorted was her view that her emphasis was on temple marriage at all costs and no thought of preparation for it. She would not marry the father of her unborn child because temple marriage was not available to her at this time. Fornication was of lesser moment to her but she had definitely settled on her temple marriage. The spirit giveth life-the word killeth. (SWK 66-07)

I don't have a general prescription for this problem of perfection, and all sin being mortal sin. For me personally there are two answers. First, because I believe that sexual expression between two people - same sex or opposite sex - can be good and holy, I don't think I am necessarily talking about sin anyway. Second, in my life there was a break in my feeling about the relative seriousness of sin that occurred when, as an adult, having grown up with the simple Sunday School listing of sins, I encountered in my reading and in the experiences of people I knew, a number of truly terrible experiences: physical, emotional and sexual abuse of children, rape, slavery, torture. There are awful things people do to other people. This list smashed forever, in my head, the simple listing of good and bad. These things seem so much worse than most of what I had ever imagined that I could no longer hang on to, or even pretend to hang on to, the idea that sin is sin and all is equally bad.

A third problem is the firmly-held belief in many corners that any discussion or acknowledgment will be seen as permissive, either by children and others who should not be sexually active, or by the morality police who will think we are soft on sex or don't take it seriously. I think we have to get past this issue. Some people will see it as talking about a second-best world. Then let's talk about a second best world. Even in that framework, let's talk. As a bishop I talked with people who were making hard decisions. Who were puzzled. Who wanted to do right, even acknowledging that they were outside the Church's norms. If we (the church, the grown-ups, the establishment) say "don't, and no conversation" then there will in fact be no conversation. People will simply leave.

Finally, there are practical problems. If nobody talks about these things then there is nobody to quote. In order to get past the first sentence in the conversation you have to have an original thought. That's not so easy. And, like talking about politics or religion, you are likely to gore somebody. Anything you say may seem judgmental-put people quickly into the "good guys" and the "bad guys" camps.

But there needs to be an ongoing discussion about sex. I really have only one message, and that's it.

Having made my basic point, let me illustrate. Not with final or ultimate truth, but with ideas and thoughts about what is better and what is worse.

First, I need to define what I mean by sex or sexual expression. We've been treated to definition after definition in the press recently. But I'm not referring to any of those definitions. I know that the mind is the most important sexual organ, that imagination and fantasy are vital (and virtually unavoidable). But as I examine my own thoughts, I know that what I mean when I talk about sexual expression is touch. Some kind of touch. There is another body with which contact is made. The contact may be as simple as touching the back of your hand, or as complex as some of the positions in those "how-to" books lining the shelves in the Sex section of the bookstore. But there is another person. The touch recognizes, acknowledges, expresses feeling and desire and communion-I am other than you, but I would be with you in some way. Think about the simple, formalized handshake. We give it little significance in weighing sexual activity, but there is a kind of communion and desire expressed even in a handshake. I see you. I recognize you as other. I want to connect with you. I want to show that I like you or enjoy you or hear you or see you or know you. It might be "innocent" in the terms we learned as teenagers. It might happen 50 times a day. But it is sexual in an important sense. And so is holding hands, which may communicate much more, of course. And an embrace. And a gentle hand on the shoulder. And kissing. And touching more private areas than the hand or the shoulder.

When I say "sexual expression" I mean some kind of touch. When I say "sex" I mean something more specific. I mean touching someone else with the intent or purpose of bringing to orgasm one or the other, or both. It isn't the only possible definition or the only reasonable meaning. It is, however, what I have in mind when I use those words. And this is part of talking. Part of the work of going beyond "no." What am I talking about? What are you talking about? Let us understand.

So now we are talking about sex and sexual expression. It seems to me that there are some easy thoughts:

Don't get pregnant, unless you intend to and can offer a child a home with two parents. I know that is controversial-not a universally held opinion. That's what I believe. Let's talk about it.

Don't get or transmit STDs. Safe sex is better than unsafe sex. A perfect example. You may believe . . . the Church does teach . . . that no sex is best (actually, that monogamous married sex is best). OK. Maybe I agree. Maybe I don't. But the person I'm talking to isn't taking the "no sex" bit. And given that fact, it seems to me really easy to say "safe sex is better than unprotected sex," and morally bankrupt to say nothing.

A friend of mine contributed a thought which makes good sense to me. He said that money and sex don't mix. If you have to pay, something is wrong, something is not good. That covers prostitution, of course (and pornography, although pornography might technically be outside the meaning of "sex" that I am using). But what about a fancy dinner? What about support arrangements, overt or subtle? What about dependent relationships, where there is a loss of freedom and a kind of coercion?

It is easy to say that force is bad. That way lies rape and assault & battery. I could probably get more agreement on that point than any other in this room. But the converse gives me much to think about. It seems to me that consent, mutual consent, is a good thing. Let's talk about consent.

Mary Becker, a professor at the University of Chicago Law School, has been wrestling with the question of when sex is good. She talks about "non-objectifying sex" as a positive, and "autonomy-denying sex" as a negative. In "Morality and Sexual Orientation" she describes "autonomy-denying consensual sex" as "sex that one participant would rather avoid than experience not just on one night, but night after night." And "non-objectifying sex" as "both mutually desired and entirely consistent with the personhood of the partner, affirming the partner as a person rather than treating the partner as a thing."

My standard of consent is very high. The common phrase is "what didn't you understand about `no'?" But that's easy. What is hard is knowing when a "yes" really means "yes." There is some academic legal writing which speaks to this. You'd find it under the category "feminist contract law"-not a subject heading most of your are likely to be familiar with. The analysis points out that people want to be agreeable, that many people much of the time want to be someone who says "yes." They may not really want the thing they are agreeing to, but they want to be saying "yes."

So how do we distinguish, how do we tell when a "yes" really means "yes" and not just "I want to be agreeable"?

For something like going out to a movie, maybe we just take people at their word. We don't want to spend hours analyzing terms and checking for multiple motivations. Just go see the film.

But for sex, a primary human activity of enormous importance and significance, we need more care. Maybe we have to go slow. Not the first date. Not the second. Maybe not even the third. Take time and talk and get to know each other. In the contract law world, we talk about a document, with time to prepare and time to back out and a formal signing. It seems to me that consent takes us in the direction of a ceremony, of some kind of declaration, of some representation not just in private but within a community: "this man and no other" or "this woman and no other."

Are there other "goods" or "betters"? It seems to me that exclusivity-monogamy-is a good thing. Commitment is a good thing. Knowing he will be there in the morning, and the next and the next, is a good. Better than the alternative.

In fact, when I say that a fully realized intimate sexual relationship can be a good thing, outside marriage, I am imagining a mutually chosen, long-term, exclusive, mutually supportive, publicly declared relationship.

If mutually chosen, long-term, exclusive and supportive is good, does that mean that missing some element of the list sends you to hell?

That depends. (Not the standard answer, right? At least not the standard answer in a world that has nothing more to say than "no".)

It depends on what is missing. If what is missing is consent, and there is some kind of compulsion or coercion, that seems to me very bad.

If there is a breach of some existing committed exclusive relationship, that seems pretty bad too.

In these cases the common words we use are rape and adultery. Serious business.

If the "not so good" is that it is too early, in a relationship that seems good and is headed in a good direction but not really committed (for example), then that is not so good, but not so terrible either. Not by comparison. Not in a range where there is better and there is worse.

Now these are all opinions. They are real opinions, meaning that I didn't make up some words to have something to say. I actually believe these things. But I know that not everybody will agree.

For example, how important is a public declaration? I think it is valuable. I have performed some weddings. It has seemed to me that the commitment is something best done in a community, not just in private. Some will disagree. Let us talk. Let us reason together.

What about a "long-term commitment"? You might say "Do we need a `for the rest of our lives' kind of commitment? Or is it enough that we are not seeing anybody else?" I think the permanent commitment is better. But short of that, is 5 years better than 1 year? I don't know. Let's talk.

I see that young man looking at me. Saying "I'm gay. I'm not going to get married. I want to live with someone, to share my life with someone. But I'm not going to fit in the simple `heterosexual married at 23 and faithful to my wife forever' mold. Do you have anything to say?"

If the answer is "DON'T" and nothing more, there are only two likely replies:

Repression and supression-a kind of living hell.

"Good-bye"-a sad indictment of the Church, which in that moment is shown to be not universal, but only a place for a few.

Instead, let us reason together. Let us talk about good and better. I am not talking to a room full of Church leaders, although some of my comments may make their way into print. But this is a conversation which you and I, in twos and threes and tens and twelves, can begin and continue. That is my prayer and my plea.

Testing Bishops for Skills, Aptitude, and Narcissism

[Posted at ByCommonConsent.com on July 23, 2018]

Chris Kimball is a seven-times grandfather, a father, and a husband.  He was a fast-track Mormon church leader, with the right genealogy and checking all the boxes, until about age 40. On a very different path since then.  He is a good friend of BCC.

I was a Mormon bishop in the mid-1990s.  The experience led to my turning in my temple recommend and leaving full activity.  From an orthodox Mormon point of view, it was a destructive experience, even disaster.  I spent the next 10 years in therapy (on-the-couch deep investigation therapy) sorting myself out.  I probably should not have been a bishop in the first place. 

On the other hand, the whole experience–good and bad–contributed greatly to subsequent accomplishment and rewards in my professional and managerial pursuits, and I came into the 20-teens reasonably happy with myself.
In many ways I was well prepared to be a bishop.  I knew the Church inside and out.  I knew most of the questions and much of the history.  I have a knack for administration (if you read the right scriptures you’d call it a gift, see D&C 46:15, 16).  At the time I thought I would score pretty well on Paul’s scorecard (see Titus 1:7-9).  Not particularly willful, not quick to anger, not given to wine, not a striker, not given to filthy lucre; a lover of hospitality, a lover of good men, sober, just, temperate.  (However, to claim “holy” and “blameless” would be more than a small move beyond the pale.)

But I didn’t have the emotional maturity or character that I think should be requisite for the job. I feel confident in saying that about myself because those years of therapy and maturation have made me . . . well, not whole exactly, but in sight of what whole might look like.

Last week a report issued that “Anglican leaders are considering expanding its assessments of clergy candidates to include more rigorous psychological testing.” Some telling quotes:

“Both introversion and extroversion can reflect the divine image, but it is also very wise for the church to consider pathologies.”

and

“Narcissism can give pastors a confidence in their own ability to the disparagement of others, and a tendency to see the black side of others rather than the contribution people make to the church. There is a temptation to bully and demean.”

In the article, Leslie Francis, a canon professor of religions and education at Warwick University, also “warned that more rigorous testing could exacerbate a trend in the Church of England to recruit conventional clergy who do not rock the boat.”

The LDS Church does none of this.  I think we should. Bishops. Stake Presidents. Mission Presidents.  Who else?  Are there emotional and psychological traits that would be qualifying or disqualifying for a Relief Society President?
If we paid more attention to what a bishop really does and should do and the character traits and training necessary, we would reduce the pool of qualified men.  That has costs and benefits.  At the same time, I believe it would become obvious to everybody that there are qualified women among us.

It would be a cultural revolution, including that it would require people to submit to examination, a lot like applying for the job.  I don’t see any doctrinal problem, or any insurmountable conflict with scripture or history.

To be fair, I would also reassess the job of the bishop.  If given the magic wand, I would drastically reduce the administrative work (counselors are or should be well qualified for this role).  I would eliminate all but the most extreme parts of the disciplinary process.  I would do everything I could to eliminate scorecards (activation, attendance, temple recommends, baptisms, solutions).  And I would (perhaps dramatically) emphasize the welfare and counseling roles.  Not with “fixes” in mind, but with help in mind.  Attentive to the journey, not some end goal.  As a small example, I would put all the temple recommend work on the counselors with strict instructions to stick with the questions as written, and accept only yes/no answers.  If somebody wants a discussion about their spiritual journey generally, I would put that over to the bishop for a discussion without judgment.

Proverbs and Ecclesiastes

Proverbs and Ecclesiastes

19 August 2018

Intro

Play the Byrds’ 1965 version of Turn, Turn, Turn for a minute or so as people settle in.

The music of my teens! Pete Seeger wrote the music, and added six words to lyrics/text from the KJV Ecclesiastes. This is what always comes to mind (first and exclusively) when I think “Ecclesiastes.”

Goal for today:

Sometimes "I feel good, I'm going to climb that next mountain!"

Sometimes "I'm going to repent"

Sometimes "That teacher is great"

Sometimes "Something new to think about"

But today I want you to leave here thinking "I want to read, I'm going to read"

Wisdom Books as Scripture

In the Christian canon the wisdom books are Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes (today Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, next week Job)

In the Jewish canon Ecclesiastes is part of the Megillot or "five scrolls" (Ruth, Song of Solomon, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, Esther), and Proverbs is part of the Writings (Psalms, Job, Proverbs).

Ecclesiastes was somewhat controversial. Inclusion in the Jewish canon was debated as late as the second century CE and still questioned for the Christian canon into the fifth century CE.

Do you think of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes as scripture?

Not story (history, biography).

Not sermons or words of the prophets.

Probably do get quotable lines (for our endless proof-texting).

            Something different. Poetic. Moving. A different “voice”; a different “register.”

In 'Chris Kimball Speculative" mode, in my personal devotional life, I think of the wisdom literature as the words of, the teachings of, the voice of, the feminine aspect of God--Mother in Heaven, if you like. This is not doctrine, purely speculative, don’t quote me. On the other hand, it is not unprecedented or completely blue sky. A careful Mormon student/scholar (Kevin Barney) wrote this:  

"Since Asherah was recharacterized as personified Wisdom, we should read passages referring to wisdom with an eye attuned to possible nuanced allusions to the Goddess. In particular, we should read with care the whole of the Wisdom Literature."

Proverbs

What comes to mind when you think Proverbs? Do you have a favorite?

Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. (16:18)

Train up a child in the way they should go and when they are old they will not depart from it. (22:6)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding. (3:5)

A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. (15:1)

This is poetical--imaginative, evocative, translated in many ways including into very modern idiom. I am going to use this fact to take poetic license with the Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. Fair warning that for today at least we will move back and forth between translations.

For reading and appreciating Proverbs, notice the couplets. You can read Proverbs front to back, but most people enjoy Proverbs one couplet at a time. Some are synonymous (look for "and"), where the second half reinforces or expands on the first. Some are antithetical (look for "but"), where the second half contradicts or opposes the first. To get full value, find the entire couplet and pay attention to the connector, the and or but, and then think about why and what it is saying. All the components are important.

Example:

Walk in the way of the good and keep to the paths of the just. (2:20 synonymous)

For the upright will abide in the land and the innocent will remain in it. (2:21 synonymous)

but

The wicked will be cut off from the land. (2:22 antithetical)

Focus on Proverbs 8 (the “wisdom is better than rubies” text)

[Handout with KJV verses numbered and spelled out.]

Note on verse 30: The KJV mistranslates this verse as “then I was by him, as one brought up with him” (reading as though the speaker was a child). The key term in the Hebrew is ’amon’ meaning a master craftsman, artificer, or architect. Thus, this passage portrays Wisdom as a skilled craftsman working beside Yahweh in creating the world. In the NRSV, this passage reads: “then I was beside him, like a master worker.”

My “poetic license” version (to read out loud while people follow along the KVU)

Woman Wisdom Calls.

Hear, for I will speak noble things, and from my lips will come what is right;

Take my instruction instead of silver, and knowledge rather than choice gold

for wisdom is better than jewels.

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago.

Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth

Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth.

When he established the heavens, I was there.

When he marked out the foundations of the earth then I was beside him like a master worker.

And now, my children, listen to me: happy are those who keep my ways. Hear instruction and be wise, and do not neglect it.

For whoever finds me finds life.

For whoever finds me finds life.

Focus on Proverbs 31 (the “virtuous woman” text)

[Handout with KJV verses numbered and spelled out.]

Styled as "the words of King Lemuel" but we don't know any King Lemuel. Speculatively (but I like it) this is King Solomon recording what his mother Bathsheba taught him.

Note on "virtuous" (v 10): The word is chayil (חַיִל). We've seen this before. Ruth is chayil. So are soldiers and capable men. It is more often rendered "valiant" but also "capable" or "strong" or "able." As English has developed, “virtuous” has taken on enough sexual/chastity/virginity sense to be distracting. It’s not wholly wrong, but it might be better to use “valiant” to avoid channeling this Proverb into teenage-girls-only lesson material. That is in fact what happened to me, growing up. I put this Proverb in the “for the girls” category. I’m sorry I did and I am repenting.

My “poetic license” version (to read out loud while people follow along the KVU)

A capable partner is more precious than jewels.

Her spouse trusts her. She does him good all the days of their life.

She works with willing hands. She rises while it is still night and provides food for her household.

She considers a field and buys it. With the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.

She girds herself with strength and makes her arms strong.

She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.

Her lamp does not go out at night.

She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy.

Strength and dignity are her clothing and she laughs at the time to come.

She opens her mouth with wisdom.

The teachings of kindness are on her tongue.

Personal note: I want to be that!

Ecclesiastes

The opening "Preacher" in KJV is a mistranslation. The word is Qohelet which literally means "gatherer" or "acquirer". The Greek version, however, referred to a member of an assembly, and the English from Greek made it Preacher. Since the original meaning is more like "gatherer of knowledge" modern translations are more likely to use "Teacher" or "Philosopher."

This is not just a side note, but tells us something about how to read Ecclesiastes. It is not a collection of sayings, or a collection of (perhaps 12) sermons. It is one philosophical dissertation (or arguably two). Different from Proverbs, you get the full meaning and appreciation by reading Ecclesiastes beginning to end, as a single extended argument.  

Ecclesiastes is a difficult book. Now reading from the introduction of "Nothing New Under the Sun: A Blunt Paraphrase of Ecclesiastes" by Adam Miller [writer of religious criticism and interpretation and also of contemporary Latter-day Saint lay theology; a professor of philosophy at Collin College in McKinney, Texas, where he directs the college's honors program]: 

"You won't like this book. Ecclesiastes is gloomy, skeptical, and irreverent. It is caustic and drolly splenetic. It is unapologetically human. It refuses to abet our hunger for clean narratives and happy endings. It is a hopeless book. 

Example: The race doesn't go to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the cunning, nor fame to the talented. Time and chance toy with everyone. 

Tested wisdom is better than strength, patient silence is better than shouting, and practiced skill is sharper than a sword. But even these can't prevent a lone idiot from destroying the whole city.

“Ecclesiastes is a hard book full of hard sayings. It is an anvil against which our hearts must be hammered. No wonder we avoid it.

But the cost of avoidance is high. In order to become Christian, we must first learn to be hopeless. Hopelessness is the door to Zion. Hopelessness is crucial to a consecrated life. Before we can find hope in Christ, we must give up hope in everything else.

. . .

I expect that you will not like Ecclesiastes. But if, neither liking nor disliking it, you come to love Ecclesiastes, then you will have seen, at least in part, what I want to show."

I want to propose that a good way in to Ecclesiastes is through Romans. In effect, Romans can be read as Paul's reply to Ecclesiastes. Not a reply in a contradicting or argumentative sense, but a reply in a "next step" or "where does Christ take us from here" sense. 

To illustrate, you read the Ecclesiastes verses [below] and I will reply with the verses from Romans.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance (Ecc 3:4)

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. (Romans 14:17)

Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins. (Ecc 7:20)

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23)

Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do. Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil. Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom. (Ecc 9:7-10)

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God's people in accordance with the will of God. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:26-28)

Rejoice, O young man, in your youth, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Walk in the ways of your heart and the sight of your eyes. But know that for all these things God will bring you into judgment. Remove vexation from your heart, and put away pain from your body, for youth and the dawn of life are vanity. (Ecc 11:9-10)

In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ according to my gospel. (Romans 2:16)

For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil. (Ecc. 12:14)

So then each of us will give an account of himself to God. (Romans 14:12)

In conclusion, here are the words of Paul with the message I would close on. If you think about what you know of Ecclesiastes, you will hear echoes but also the Christian answer.

Some judge one day to be better than another, while others judge all days to be alike. Let all be fully convinced in their own minds.

Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord.

Those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God;

Those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God. 

We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

Romans 14:5-7