Today’s Hot Topic is for all ye Mormons, but it’s a microcosm of the human experience so all you Mo-haters out there can stay seated for the duration of my rant.
It deals with church callings, but it’s also about perfectionism.
And I must preface my remarks with a declaration that I AM PROUD TO BE A MORMON. My religion and faith is the most important thing to me on this very beautiful earth of ours. It gives me answers, direction, peace, clarity, happiness, friendships and joy. I love going to church. And if I haven’t invited you to church recently, consider yo’self invited because I promise you’ll loOove it!
But like all things earthly, despite the perfection of the church, it’s run by mere humans who are anything but perfect and subject to foibles. And I’m the merest of them all.
And that is never more evident than when serving in my various church capacities.
(Quick lesson: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has a lay ministry, which means no one is paid to hold to leadership positions, which means that anyone who meets certain standards is eligible for most positions or “callings.” So every few years or so you might be assigned to a new calling, meaning the pastor – called “bishop” – might teach small children next. Or I might suddenly be in charge of a huge organization of women and their needs. It’s overwhelming, but extremely rewarding and helps develop all sorts of skills and understanding over the course of a lifetime. And while you can say no to any calling, most don’t. We believe we’ve been selected by God for each assignment.)
The problem is that some people think callings must be approached like an important dinner party; that everything must be formal and nice and perfect. Or like a major corporation, meaning there must be meetings to plan a meeting about a possible meeting about a small idea.
And that’s not my cup of (herbal) tea.
Currently I serve on the activities committee in my ward, which is one of the more secular callings because we plan parties for our congregation. And while I’m no fan of Jell-o salad or casseroles, I’m all for convenience, so potluck dinners at a local park with mellow conversation are up my alley. (I just do my best to make sure my personal contributions aren’t culinary faux pases, or take charge of the decorations if I hear streamers might be involved.)
But some people think every activity must be a major production. For example, they constructed a life-sized gingerbread house for the Christmas party. And at a recent beach-themed party, there were more decorations than people. It looked amazing, but it stressed out lots of people, cost lots of money and made people like me feel guilty that I wasn’t welding lifeguard towers all day long.
More recently we staged a production of Broadway vignettes for one night. Someone suggested we assemble props for each of the numbers, which is normal. I was given charge of a couple. One of my assignments was to build a wooden hut … for a short musical number … for a church production seen by friends and family. I said no. It wasn’t worth a sleepless night and crash course on construction just to enhance the set. Thankfully, my superior understood. (We nixed a wooden sign as well.)
But it was even worse when I was younger. There was a certain ward (that a certain family who reads this blog once belonged to) that actually hired a professional choreographer to do their annual Roadshow musical and spent big bucks on professional costumes and scenery.
And it wasn’t uncommon to hear of Relief Society meetings where decorations and themes eclipsed post-Oscar bashes.
It deals with church callings, but it’s also about perfectionism.
And I must preface my remarks with a declaration that I AM PROUD TO BE A MORMON. My religion and faith is the most important thing to me on this very beautiful earth of ours. It gives me answers, direction, peace, clarity, happiness, friendships and joy. I love going to church. And if I haven’t invited you to church recently, consider yo’self invited because I promise you’ll loOove it!
But like all things earthly, despite the perfection of the church, it’s run by mere humans who are anything but perfect and subject to foibles. And I’m the merest of them all.
And that is never more evident than when serving in my various church capacities.
(Quick lesson: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has a lay ministry, which means no one is paid to hold to leadership positions, which means that anyone who meets certain standards is eligible for most positions or “callings.” So every few years or so you might be assigned to a new calling, meaning the pastor – called “bishop” – might teach small children next. Or I might suddenly be in charge of a huge organization of women and their needs. It’s overwhelming, but extremely rewarding and helps develop all sorts of skills and understanding over the course of a lifetime. And while you can say no to any calling, most don’t. We believe we’ve been selected by God for each assignment.)
The problem is that some people think callings must be approached like an important dinner party; that everything must be formal and nice and perfect. Or like a major corporation, meaning there must be meetings to plan a meeting about a possible meeting about a small idea.
And that’s not my cup of (herbal) tea.
Currently I serve on the activities committee in my ward, which is one of the more secular callings because we plan parties for our congregation. And while I’m no fan of Jell-o salad or casseroles, I’m all for convenience, so potluck dinners at a local park with mellow conversation are up my alley. (I just do my best to make sure my personal contributions aren’t culinary faux pases, or take charge of the decorations if I hear streamers might be involved.)
But some people think every activity must be a major production. For example, they constructed a life-sized gingerbread house for the Christmas party. And at a recent beach-themed party, there were more decorations than people. It looked amazing, but it stressed out lots of people, cost lots of money and made people like me feel guilty that I wasn’t welding lifeguard towers all day long.
More recently we staged a production of Broadway vignettes for one night. Someone suggested we assemble props for each of the numbers, which is normal. I was given charge of a couple. One of my assignments was to build a wooden hut … for a short musical number … for a church production seen by friends and family. I said no. It wasn’t worth a sleepless night and crash course on construction just to enhance the set. Thankfully, my superior understood. (We nixed a wooden sign as well.)
But it was even worse when I was younger. There was a certain ward (that a certain family who reads this blog once belonged to) that actually hired a professional choreographer to do their annual Roadshow musical and spent big bucks on professional costumes and scenery.
And it wasn’t uncommon to hear of Relief Society meetings where decorations and themes eclipsed post-Oscar bashes.
And while it looked impressive, does anyone still care?
Does anyone still remember the dance numbers or the decorations? And if you do, did they overshadow the real purpose of the events?
And isn’t so much of what this great gospel teaches us about balance?
Balancing a home and family and work and friends and church responsibilities?
And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that a wooden hut would tip the scales.
But what about you?
Do you prefer convenience in church callings or life? Or do you insist on perfection, no matter how much it taxes you or others?
Because I’m a perfectionist in most things, but when it comes to church, I’m willing to endure some cottage cheese laced Jell-o for the sake of convenience.
Well, almost.
What about you?
