Archives for July 2004

You’re in Sunday School. The teacher just asked someone to read a scripture. Let’s say Hebrews 11:1.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Once the scripture is read, the teacher leans forward and asks, “So, according to this scripture, what is faith?”

The response? Total silence. Nobody raises a hand. No one makes a peep. Why? Because the answer is obvious. And no one likes to answer the obvious question.

Eventually some kind chap will answer, but only because he wants the awkward silence to end and the lesson to move on. “Uh, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” he says.

“That’s right,” the teacher says. “Goodness, you all are quiet today.” Then the teacher moves on.

OK, I’m sorry but these “answer obvious” questions drive me bonkers. And I hear them all the time. In fact, I’ve been in Sunday School and priesthood lessons in which these are the only type of questions asked.

The next time this happens I’m going to act like John Travolta’s character from Welcome Back, Kotter. Remember that show?

Travolta was this inner-city high-school student who practically jumped out of his desk whenever his teacher (Mr. Kotter) asked a question Travolta knew the answer to. He’d throw up his hands and shout, “Ooh ooh ooh,” just begging Mr. Kotter to call on him.

I want to do that. But instead of giving the answer the teacher is expecting, the only correct answer, I want to give the WRONG answer.

“So, according to this scripture,” the teacher asks, “what is faith?”

I throw up my hand. “Ooh ooh ooh.”

“Yes, Brother Johnston.”

OK, imagine I have a thick Brooklyn accent. “The scripture says that faith is a substance, right? And we all know that the prefix sub means “below or under” and that the root of the word, stance, means “a standing position.” Like, say, a karate stance. So a “substance” is below or under a standing position or, in other words, a squatting position.”

The teacher blinks. “Interesting.”

“I’m not finished,” I say. “The scripture also says that faith is the evidence of things not seen. Like ghosts, for example. Nobody sees ghosts, right? But one day you wake up and your shoes aren’t where you left them. Suddenly there on the kitchen table. And you’re thinking, ‘How in the heck did my shoes get on the table?’ And then you remember you’ve got ghosts and the movement of the shoes is the hard evidence you needed. So faith is either a squatting position or the unexplainable movement of shoes.”

I know. I’m a cruel person.

At least the “answer obvious” questions are better than the “read my mind” questions.

These type of questions are a little trickier. The teacher will ask a question that, in truth, can be answered several different ways. But in the teacher’s mind there is only one right answer. All other answers are less right.

For example, say the teacher begins the lesson by asking, “What should you tell your nonmember friends when they ask you about the Book of Mormon?”

A guy raises his hand. “I tell them that it’s another testament of Jesus Christ.”

The teacher nods, but you can tell by the look on her face that this isn’t the “right” answer. “Anyone else?” she asks.

“You can say that it’s a book of scripture,” says another.

“Anyone else?” the teacher asks.

“It’s the word of God,” says another.

Finally the teacher gives in. “Or you can say, that you know two missionaries who can come to their house and give them a copy.” Then the teacher goes on to say that today’s lesson is on missionary work.

Ugh.

Want another example? Take the question “What phrase in this scripture sticks out the most in your mind?”

Let’s be blunt here. That’s not the real question. What the teacher is really asking is “What phrase in this scripture sticks out the most in MY mind?”

Now, you nice folks out there are thinking, “Well at least the teacher asked something. At least she tried.” And you’re right. You’ve got to give her credit for at least trying to initiate discussion.

A lot of teachers don’t even do that. A lot of teachers don’t ask anything. They lecture. They get out their notes and scriptures and then talk and talk and talk and talk. Members of the class only make comments if they’re brave enough to raise their hand and interrupt.

Now, I’m not saying that good teachers are simply those who ask good questions. I won’t even begin to define what a good teacher is. I’m not one. For that I’ll refer you to Teaching, No Greater Call, A Resource Guide for Gospel Teaching. It’s a wonderful and, I’ll wager, much underused text.

My real point is this: Good gospel teachers are rare. In my experience, there are only a few in every ward and proportionately fewer in every branch.

And why is that? Why are stellar teachers so hard to come by? Well, I think there are several reasons.

Firstly, the really great teachers, the ones who invoke the spirit and initiate discussion and fill you with a desire to be righteous and to give Satan the old one-two, are often snatched away by the stake or put into ward leadership positions as soon as their teaching skills are recognized. Rarely will you find them in front of a class, holding a short piece of chalk.

Secondly, teaching is hard. Standing up in front of a group of people and inspiring them to live better lives is no easy task.

The Brethren know this fact well. That’s why the church spends so much time and effort on improving gospel teaching. Our leaders know that the gift of teaching is not easily attained.

Think about it. Every ward has, or is supposed to have, a teacher improvement coordinator, someone who schedules and possibly teaches classes on how to improve gospel teaching.

If you have a good teacher improvement coordinator in your ward, someone who takes the initiative and actually sees to it that these classes happen, consider yourself lucky.

But in addition to the teacher improvement coordinator, the church also provides manuals, teaching guides, the church website, Ensign articles, and other resource material to guide teachers in everything from how to prepare the lesson to how to teach with the spirit.

You may recall a General Conference talk given by Elder Dallin H. Oaks a few years back. In it he said, “Some may wonder why we are making such an extensive effort to improve gospel teaching . Those who wonder must be blessed with superior teachers, and we have many of those in the Church. Others will understand why such an effort is needed and will pray for its success.”

What’s Elder Oaks saying in a very kind general-authority kind of way? He’s admitting that not all gospel teachers are great.

But he’s also explaining that even bad teachers can become good ones. And I agree. Anyone can learn to be a great teacher. It may take humility. It may take time. It may take serious study. And it certainly will take the help of the Lord. But anyone can do it.

That’s why, jokes aside, if you’ve got a teacher who struggles, pray for them. Encourage them. Make comments during the lesson. Let them see that discussion brings the spirit and involves the class.

And if you’re blessed to have a superior gospel teacher, tell them so. Thank them for their lesson and their preparation. Thank them for edifying and inspiring you.

And remember, there was only one perfect teacher. All of us pale in comparison to Him.

So if a teacher were to ask us, “Who needs to improve their teaching skills?” there’s really only one correct answer.

“Ooh ooh ooh.”

“Yes, Brother Johnston.”

“All of us, teacher. All of us.”

Correction: It’s been pointed out to me that it was NOT John Travolta’s character who said “Ooh ooh ooh” but rather Ron Palillo’s character, Arnold Horshack. Sorry for the mistake. But come on, I was four years old when this show was cancelled. That I remembered John Travolta was even on the show should count for something, right?

If you’ve never heard of The Singles Ward or God’s Army, chances are you’re either not LDS or you’ve been living in a cave for the past few years. Mormon filmmakers have been capitalizing on our culture for some time now.

There are a truckload of these movies. So many in fact that if your DVD collection only consisted of LDS produced films, you’d need a decent sized shelf to hold them all.

And more are coming.

The best of the bunch is Saints and Soldiers, one of the most profoundly moving films on faith and war I’ve ever seen. This is the pinnacle of Mormon filmmaking, folks. Every aspect of the production is as good as, if not better than, any pricey Hollywood-studio-produced summer extravaganza.

Much of the credit goes to Ryan Little, the film’s director, cinematographer, and co-producer. Little is one of those rare artists who possesses equal portions of talent, vision, and humility.

I knew Ryan back at BYU. You can’t not like this guy. He’s one of the most sincerely friendly people you’ll ever meet. A great collaborator.

Which explains why the actors’ performances in the film are so believable. Ryan knows real human emotion when he sees it.

Special kudos go to Corbin Allred, who plays American soldier and sharpshooter Nathan Greer, or as his commanding officer likes to call him, Deacon.

You see, Greer is LDS, and since he served his mission in Germany before the war, he holds a special place in his heart for the people he’s attacking.

It’s an inner turmoil that could have been pushed to the point of melodrama. But Allred delivers with subtle grace, hitting every emotional peak with the same ease and accuracy that he supposedly wields with his rifle.

Applause also goes to the nearly unrecognizable Kirby Heyborne, a familiar face in Mormon cinema who breaks any mold his other films may have put him in. Heyborne is Flight Sgt, Oberon Winley, a fiery English intelligence officer who provides the film with its rising sense of urgency.

To ensure the film faithfully represented World War II combat, Little used authentic period uniforms and shot much of the film with the camera on his shoulder. The result is battle sequences that are terrifyingly realistic. Little and editor Wynn Hougaard put you in the action.

But the crown jewel of this film is the score by J Bateman and Bart Hendrickson. Because I don’t know musical terms, I won’t even begin to try and explain why it’s great. I just know it is. I just know it works. It’s the type of music I’d buy on CD and listen to in my car. It reminded me of Glory, that right mix of military cadence and gentle human themes.

So in short, you must see this film.

But don’t take my word for it. Check out how Saints and Soldiers has faired at recent film festivals:

Best Picture: San Diego Film Festival

Best Picture: Sacramento Festival of Cinema

Best Picture: Long Beach International Film Festival

Best Picture: Marco Island Film Festival

Best Picture: Ojai Film Festival

Best Picture: Heartland Film Festival

So mark your calendars. It hits theaters August 6. For more information go to www.saintsandsoldiers.com.

Another film to watch out for is the soon-to-be-released Sons of Provo. Many of you have already heard the music from this film. The album has been selling like hotcakes all over Utah for several months now.

For the uninformed, Sons of Provo is a mockumentary (i.e. fake documentary) about the rise and brief fall of Everclean, an LDS boy band from Provo, Utah. Like most boy bands, the boys of Everclean rely on their harmonies, dance moves, and flashy outfits to climb their way to the top.

But unlike other bands, the boys of Everclean are…well, clean. They don’t cuss, drink, or fool around with the ladies. They’re straight arrows. Or at least they think they are.

And to ensure no one doubts their sincerity, their music preaches what they practice. Songs like Word of Wizzum and Dang, Fetch, Oh My Heck parody both traditional hip hop and unique aspects of Mormon culture without being sacrilegious.

The lyrics are hilarious. I laughed out loud several times. But I was most impressed to learn that it was the actors singing and not professional vocal artists. These guys can really sing.

Will Swenson, whom I tolerated in The Singles Ward and The R.M., shines bright here. It’s his best comic turn yet. His portrayal of Will, the self-centered and self-appointed leader of the band, is a master stroke of both dead-pan humor and improvisational comedy.

And why improvisational comedy? Well, because much of the film’s dialogue was made up on the spot. Rather than write a complete script, Swenson and co-author Peter Brown wrote scene outlines, basically explaining the purpose and direction of each scene. Then the cameras started rolling and the actors started talking.

The result is very natural dialogue. It feels like a real documentary.

If you’ve seen any of Christopher Guest’s films, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Sons of Provo is a cleaner and much funnier version of This is Spinal Tap.

Kirby Heyborne (this guy is everywhere) is also bust-a-gut funny as the newest and most tepid member of the band. When he’s not singing or dancing, Kirby’s either putting in hours at the scrapbook store or cleaning up after and cooking for his roommates. In short, he’s every Molly Mormon’s dream. But more importantly, he’s the perfect foil to Swenson’s unrighteous daddy mack dominion. Together these two make funny look easy.

For more information on the album go to www.sonsofprovo.com. You won’t find any information about the film there however. I’m hoping they post that as soon as they know when it’s going to be released. That’s still undecided.

But these aren’t the only two grapes on the vine. More Mormon movies are on the way. For a complete list go to www.ldsfilm.com. Some sound promising. Others not so much.

And just for fun, here’s my opinion of previous films.

God’s Army

Thumbs up. Richard Dutcher got the ball rolling. And he can act too. But that mission president…

The Singles Ward

Thumbs up. But I can only watch this one once. Some of the acting hurt me. Hurt me real bad.

Charly

Sorry, ladies. I’m giving this one a big thumbs down. A few of the supporting roles were so poorly acted that I thought that clips of bad screen tests had been inserted directly into the film. Let me guess, the producer’s wife always wanted to be a movie star.

The R.M.

Thumbs up. But if not for Kirby Heyborne, this would be thumbs way way down. What was the deal with that attorney in the court room scene? Did that guy think he was Jim Carrey? News flash, pal: Jim Carrey you ain’t!

The Other Side of Heaven

Thumbs up. The native missionary companion (Feki) made this film for me. That guy rocked. Hurrah for Israel indeed!

Napoleon Dynamite

Yeah yeah. This one isn’t exactly a Mormon movie. But it was made by Mormons. I give it a very unenthusiastic thumbs up. And that’s only because my expectations were very high. I expected to be rolling in the aisles. But frankly I found much of this movie annoying. Opening credits: cool. Napoleon lying about having a girlfriend out of state: uncool. I’m supposed to like this guy, right?

And now, some movies I haven’t seen.

Brigham City

Heard mostly good things.

The Book of Mormon Movie

My mother, who typically likes what she watches, said this was “Awful awful awful awful awful awful.” That’s a direct quote, folks.

Pride and Prejudice

Heard good things.

The Home Teachers

Heard terrible things. Bad bad bad. Not funny. Not funny. Not funny.

Handcart

I know some of the actors in this movie. By their own admission this movie is bad bad bad.

The Work and the Story

Again, I know some of the actors in this one. Their parts were apparently funny. Everything else: not funny. My biggest beef with this film is it’s premise. It’s — how do I say it? — dumb.

The Best Two Years

Heard good things. And is it just me or do these missionaries look thirty years old?

So there you have it. My take on Mormon cinema. Hopefully it will last. It keeps getting better. Oh, and look out for God’s Army 2. I heard that was coming out soon too. But don’t ask me why they made it. I have no idea. Who wants to see that? As the boys of Everclean might say, “That’s whack, Daddy-O.”

Recently returned missionaries love to talk about their missions. It’s their conversation topic of choice. In fact, if the conversation isn’t about their mission, RMs will inevitably turn the discussion in that direction.

FRIEND: Say, it sure it hot today.

RM: Hot? This ain’t hot. On my mission you could fry an egg on the sidewalk it was so hot.

or

FRIEND: Boy, I sure love rocky road ice cream.

RM: Dude, on my mission we had the rockiest roads. Potholes everywhere. It was awful. The government had a poor municipal infrastructure, you see? Road maintenance was a joke.

or

McDONALD’S EMPLOYEE: You want fries with that?

RM: I went two years without fast food, buddy. You think I’m going to skip the fries? When I was in Mongolia all we had was crackers and yak’s milk. And trust me, that gets old pretty fast. We baptized a yak shepherd, though. Did you know yaks have shepherds?

Fortunately most returned missionaries grow out of this phase. Usually after a year or so, they catch on that nobody cares. Except for their mothers of course. Moms always like a good mission story.

But some returned missionaries persist in telling their stories. And in order to maintain their ever fading audience, the stories become just a hair more exaggerated, just a touch more fantastical.

And the more fantastical they become, the more often they’re told by others. And pretty soon the true story is replaced with whatever will make the story more interesting. And so urban myths are born.

I heard plenty of these when I worked in the MTC. New missionaries would come in thinking they were going off to war.

“How many times were you robbed?” they’d ask. “Will I get worms as soon as I get there, or does that take a while?” Or my favorite, “How long did it take you to learn English again?”

I wanted to close my eyes and shake my head. “You are not going to die,” I’d tell them. “And you probably won’t get robbed. You probably won’t get worms. And when you come home, you’ll speak English just fine. You’ve spoken it all your life. Why would you forget how?”

The expression on their faces was always one of mixed relief and disappointment. “I won’t get robbed?” they’d think. “Then what am I going to tell the guys back home when all of this is over?”

Of course, sometimes these things do happen. Missionaries do get robbed. And sometimes missionaries do get sick. But most don’t. Most go about their mission and perform their duty unharmed.

Because we all know missionaries are protected. They’re the Lord’s servants, and He watches over them.

Then why do some missionaries get hurt? If they’re protected, why do some — albeit a small minority — blow out a knee or break an arm or, in the rarest of cases, die?

Well, there are many reasons. The most common, I think, is that the missionary was doing something he or she wasn’t supposed to be doing. Missionaries have very strict rules. No rock climbing. No swimming. No dangerous activities.

And those are just a few of the world-wide rules. Each mission often has additional rules that are pertinent to that geographical area.

And every rule exists to protect the missionary and preserve the work of the Lord. So when missionaries disobey the rules–even the seemingly insignificant ones like curfews–they’re only putting themselves in harm’s way.

But disobedience isn’t the only reason. Sometimes missionaries come into the field with a preexisting condition. And sometimes that condition worsens in the field.

And sometimes terrible things happen and there’s no explanation why.

One of my companions, for example, got skin cancer while we were serving together. It was a terribly frightening thing.

And this guy was amazingly faithful and obedient. But he had to go home. It broke his heart, but he had to go home.

Another of my companions was diagnosed with diabetes while we were together. He too was an exemplary servant.

So, yes, bad things happen. And sometimes we don’t know why.

But these are the exceptions. Missions are not as grueling and as terrible as many of the urban myths would lead us to believe.

Missionaries don’t have to sleep on the floor, for example. Nor do they live in abject poverty. The church takes very good care of its missionaries, giving them decent housing and lodging.

Their apartments won’t be as nice as home, of course. But they will be sufficient. They will be comfortable. And if the missionaries have to work in a very poor area, which is often the case, you can bet that their apartment will at least be one of the nicest ones around.

So I always chuckle when members treat missionaries with pity, like the missionary is carrying out some terrible undeserved sentence. “You poor dears. You probably haven’t eaten in days. Here, take this goulash home in a tupperware container and spoon feed each other.”

If the missionaries haven’t eaten in days, it’s nobody’s fault but their own. They’re grown men or women. If they’re hungry, they’ll fix themselves some food. They have money. The church sees to that. If they don’t have money it’s because they squandered it.

Now, am I saying that we shouldn’t feed the missionaries? No. Nor am I saying that we can’t be nice to them. I’m simply saying that we shouldn’t baby them.

The church is not in the business of making missionaries’ lives difficult. The opposite is true. The church does all it can to help missionaries feel comfortable in their new environments.

But the church doesn’t baby them either. Missionaries get what they need and that’s it.

We had a missionary in our mission who constantly wrote home saying he didn’t have enough money. His loving mother responded by repeatedly sending him cash.

The guy was loaded. American dollars were pouring out of his ears. But to hear him tell it, his mission was only one step above wasting away in some cold dark dungeon. He was poor, neglected, and suffering.

It’s usually these guys who come home and start many of the urban myths. They feel like they have to prove to everyone that their mission was the most difficult in the world.

Put two of them in the same room, and the conversation will go something like this:

“We didn’t have hot water in our apartments, you know? We had to take cold showers.”

“Well on my mission,” the other will say, “we had to eat cow stomach.”

“Oh yeah? Well on my mission we had to wash all of our laundry by hand.”

“Oh yeah? Well at least you had water clean enough to wash clothes with. On my mission the water was so dirty we had to boil it, strain it, put it through a filtering system, reboil it, and add chlorine.”

“Boil it? You mean you had heat? In the part of the world where I served my mission, fire hadn’t even been invented yet.”

And so it goes, on and on until human survival in such areas becomes completely impossible.

The fact of the matter is, a mission is a wonderful thing. It’s difficult, yes, but you won’t need a machete to go tracting. You won’t live in a dense tropical jungle. You won’t have to fight off bears. You won’t get leprosy.

You’ll have challenges, yes. But that’s part of the experience. Those are there to help you learn to be reliant upon the Lord.

We go on missions to bring people to Christ. Those are the stories I like to hear. Like the ones about a family who overcame an obstacle in order to accept the truth. Or the ones about a single mother who found in the gospel a relief for all of her pain. Or the ones about a young boy who, despite his friend’s teasing, started going to church.

That’s what a mission is. Don’t let the urban myths fool you.

Besides, cow stomach isn’t that bad.

There are two types of people in this church: people who introduce themselves to strangers and people who don’t. In my experience, the latter is the majority. Most people don’t feel comfortable walking up to the new person in the ward and introducing themselves.

At least not immediately anyway. And why is that? What are we afraid of? Do we think we’re going to embarrass ourselves?

“Hi, you must be new.”

“That’s right,” the new face says.

“Well welcome to our warwardo. I mean, welcome to our ward. I’m Brother Smarklenandy. No wait, that’s not right. I’m Brother Wilson. Where did you move from?”

“Detroit.”

“Oh Detroit. I hear a lot of black people live there.”

“Er, yes, that’s true.”

“How fascinating. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go confess something to the bishop.”

I doubt this would happen. Most of us are intelligent human beings.

But many people are shy precisely for this reason. They’re afraid of embarrassing themselves. And even though it’s the not the reason why I don’t introduce myself to people, I can certainly relate to the fear.

You see, because of a certain scarring incident from my youth involving the school play, I’m always afraid that my fly is unzipped. Every time it’s my turn to pass the sacrament — and trust me when I say that it’s not easy for me to admit this — I always always always check my zipper during the blessing of the bread.

Everybody has their eyes closed, right? No one will notice if I just double check my britches.

I know. I should be paying attention to the prayer. And I do. Mostly. But I also have this unshakable fear that I’m going to get up and walk around the congregation with my fly wide open and my white shirt poking through.

And who wants to take bread from THAT tray?

So if that’s the reason why you don’t introduce yourself to new people, if you’re sincerely afraid of embarrassing yourself, then, buddy, I feel your pain.

But maybe our reluctance to introduce ourselves stems from another fear entirely: our fear of rejection.

“Hi. You must be new in the ward.”

“What is it with you people, huh? Yes, I’m new. Brand spanking new. There, are you happy? Sheesh, just leave me alone, okay? A man can’t even have some privacy around here.”

This likely won’t happen either. But it is natural to think, Gosh, they don’t want to talk to me. I’m nobody. They only want to be left alone. They came to church to worship, not to socialize.

The funny thing is, nothing could be further from the truth. Most new people are eager to say hello. Most new people want to shake your hand. They want you to approach them and make them feel welcome.

When my wife and I moved into our current ward, only a few people seemed to notice or care. A lot of people smiled at us, but very few people said hello or introduced themselves. As a result, it took us both a long time to feel like we belonged.

And maybe you’re thinking, Hey, nothing stopped you from going up to people and saying hello. Why didn’t you introduce yourself?

Well I did a few times. But not many. That’s because new people don’t like initiating conversation. “Hi, I’m new in the ward. You look like a nice person. Do you want to be my friend?”

No, the responsibilityshould be ours. If new people come onto our turf, we should be the ones to initiate contact. If we don’t, the new person will notice and likely feel ignored.

Singles have the toughest time with this, I think. It’s easy to spot a new family of eight, but singles easily get lost in the shuffle.

That’s why we have to seize every opportunity we’re given. For example, during priesthood opening exercises in our ward, the person conducting always invites new people or visitors to stand and introduce themselves.

This is wonderful. It allows each of us to clearly identify the new person. The perfect opportunity to go up to them and say hello would be immediately after opening exercises as we’re all separating to our quorums.

In my ward, only one or two men take advantage of this opportunity. Most of us scoot off to class without saying a word.

But wouldn’t it be better if everyone went up to him and said hello? Imagine how he’d feel.

And what if this person wasn’t a member of the church? What would he think of us then? Well I’ll tell you. He’d think, These are people who accept me. These are people who love me and who are happy to have me. Something about this place is right.

And what about after church? There are opportunities then as well. If new people or visitors are standing alone in the lobby, for example, seize the moment. Carpe diem. Go up to them and say, “Hi, I’m Brother So-and-So. Are you visiting today?”

If they are just visiting, we can tell them we’re glad they chose to. And if they’re new, we can invite them over for dinner.

This happened to me and my wife once right after we got married. On our first Sunday in our new ward, a couple invited us over for dinner. We were surprised by their invitation since they were so much older than us and had a lot of kids. But we went and it was wonderful. We truly felt welcomed.

But don’t think you have to cook a hot meal to make someone feel welcome. Usually a smile and a few kind words will suffice.

But maybe you’re one of the few who do this already. Maybe you say hello to every new face you see. If that’s the case, bless you. Keep up the good work. You probably don’t realize what your kindness has done to people. If only all of us would follow your example.

And maybe we will. Maybe we’re ready to squelch our fears and put our inhibitions behind us. I know I’m ready. Yes sir, starting this coming Sunday I’m a new man. Fearless Man that’s me.

Which reminds me, does anyone know where I can purchase a pair of zipperless suit pants?