acting in faith: a sacrament talk about bread

This is a talk I gave in the Manhattan Beach Ward sacrament meeting in August 2024. 

Today my talk is on acting in faith.

Like I say every time I come up here to give a talk, I have struggled with my faith throughout my adult life. I've struggled with pretty much every church-related topic you can think of. At times, I have wondered if God loves me or notices me. Before I go any farther, I should tell you, I don't have any major revelations to share with you today, but I will say that writing this talk has helped me feel a little closer to God, so I'm grateful for that.

eve's birth

in the beginning the Gods

(Mother and Father - yours and mine)

first constructed

carved

created 

Adam!

and then, the queen mother

Eve.

let us tell it like it is

and retell the versions where

Eve is a derivative

or a ribbed re-write of the first man;

the creation of Eve

was a miraculous assembly of DNA 

painting her

building her

birthing her –

she was only begotten

of her Mother.

look closely:

Adam slept through labor and delivery.

he had as much to do with the birth of Eve

as Abel had with Cain's

polytheist

i'm starting to think that the greeks
were onto something
that One God was just not enough
the temple was crowded

so 
they split our Parents at Their virtuous seams

and worshipped the Characteristics 
of God the Father 

and God the Mother

of course
we know they got carried away 

they learned to forget

to obsess

to profane

but a thousand years have passed

and the pendulum has swungtoo far

forgetful obsessive profane men

in their mad rush to monotheism 

shoved Her 

into storage, under beds, into back garden sheds

and worshipped only Him 
the One they could metabolize

colonize

fight for
die for
kill for

but,

my Creator
is not hiding under a pile of ancient conjecture
dust-covered, dismantled, dishonored
by lazy faithmakers who insisted there must be Only One

She was not smothered by negligence

drowned by ignorance

or silently vaporized by doctrine

She smiles the dawn

She breathes the tide

She paints the night

She pours the rain

She speaks the grain

She raises spring from the dead

She cradles billions of heads

in Her lap and brushes our hair because 

She is Mother 

She, a Perfect Partner, created

all of the tragic folks who tried to erase Her

defame Her

destroy Her

they are Hers

and She is there, pushing the pendulum back this way

smiling

waiting patiently 

for us to clear the cobwebs of small mindedness

and build Her a temple in our guts

one that cannot be rationalized into disappearance

explained away by unimaginative sexism

no.

we must build in our guts a temple

that can house

Her and Him

our Creators

our Gods

as it began to dawn // Easter 2021

it was my friend mary ann who first pointed out that the women went as soon as they possibly could to attend the body of their friend, their savior, Jesus Christ. 

because He was slain on a friday afternoon, shortly before sundown, and laid in a borrowed tomb, jewish burial customs were delayed. immediately following His death, the sabbath began. though a lifelong latter-day saint, mary ann studied the jewish faith diligently and pointed out that the faithful marys observed the sabbath completely, and waited to complete the chore of burial arrangements until "the end of the sabbath, as it began to be dawn, [and] came to see the sepulchre." 

i can just picture the marys and their sisters, waking up in the dark, filled with the heavy pain, even dread, that washes over a person in those first hours and days following the death of a loved one. i imagine them quietly dressing, quickly packing up their sweet embalming spices, meeting up along the road as the sun rose, and sprinting to His tomb. i imagine their shock when the immovable stone door was not where they knew it should be, and the fear of seeing a stranger sitting inside where He should have been. i imagine the mix of shock, faith, and adrenaline at the angel's announcement, "He is not here: for He is risen, as He said. Go quickly, and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead."

i imagine the immense frustration of those women who followed the angel's instructions to go and tell the others, after having waited through the horrific scene of His death, the darkness of that friday night, and the anguish of the first sabbath without Him, to finally arrive at the sepulchre, and speak with an angel, only to return to the men and be met with cynicism, dismissal, and doubt. i think i'd scream.

i imagine mary, His beloved mary, at a complete loss, not understanding this strange angel. wanting nothing more than to just see Him and say goodbye. weeping at losing Him again. i imagine her disbelief at seeing Him standing before her. i imagine her disbelief melting away into complete confidence at the sound of His voice and the light of His eyes as He called her by her name. i imagine, i hope, someday to feel that same confidence when i return home to Him.

"As we leave the tombs of quarantine, a return to normal would be a disaster unless we recognize that we are going back to a world desperately in need of healing. For me, the source of that healing is an empty tomb in Jerusalem. The work that Jesus left his followers to do includes showing compassion and forgiveness and contending for a just society. It involves the ever-present offer for all to begin again. The weight of this work fills me with a terrifying fear, especially in light of all those who have done great evil in his name. Who is worthy of such a task? Like the women, the scope of it leaves me too often with a stunned silence."

— Esau McCaulley , 04/02/2021