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My response to CNN’s article with the same title.

As soon as I read that Rob Porter was a former aide to Orinn Hatch, I thought: Please, please, please don’t let this guy be LDS. But he is. He’s LDS, or Mormon. And oh boy, I’ve got some thoughts.

For those of you who don’t know who I’m talking about, Rob Porter is the disgraced White House aide who — it was revealed this week — was emotionally and physically abusive to his two former wives and a former girlfriend. The guy’s a monster. Grotesquely abusive, aggressively vindictive, an all-around bad dude. The accounts from these women are horrifying and heartbreaking. The White House’s efforts to protect this guy are disturbing as well, especially since John Kelly and others have known about the abuse for months and continued not only to keep Porter on staff but also considered him for advancement, this despite the fact that the FBI knew about the abuse as well and were thus reluctant to grant Porter proper security clearance.

What breaks my heart further is this report, wherein the former wives reveal that they both approached their LDS bishops regarding the abuse at the time it was occurring, and neither woman felt they received the counsel they needed from their bishops to escape the relationship and get help. This will likely infuriate a lot of people, both in and out of the Church. And rightfully so.

It’s worth noting — as does the article — that the Church’s position on abuse is very clear: zero tolerance. Inexcusable. Indefensible. Abhorrent. Wrong. And grounds for Church discipline and excommunication. It is not tolerated. At all. Or at least it’s not supposed to be. That’s the direction that is given to all leaders in the Church, men and women, including bishops. Abuse of any kind: no way, no how. Physical, emotional, psychological, whatever. NO!

We don’t know if Rob Porter faced Church discipline, and unless he or his ex-wives reveal that information, we likely will never know. If he had been excommunicated, I think the Church spokesman would have said so.

The obvious questions here are: Why did these women remain in these abusive relationships for as long as they did? And why didn’t their bishops (or other Church leaders) do more to rescue them?

The first question is hard to answer because only the former wives can speak for themselves, but I can tell you how critical the doctrine of marriage is in the Mormon faith. It is, well, everything. Marriage is at the center of Mormon theology. We marry not just until death do us part, but for all time and eternity. Marriage, we believe, continues beyond the grave. Our spouse is our equal in all things, for the rest of our existence. When we commit to someone, it is ironclad. It’s stone. To abandon that marriage, to divorce is monumentally consequential. For some, it feels like a failure of faith as much as a failure of love. They think: I made a commitment to help this person obtain salvation. They are linked to me. I am responsible for them. I have a vested interest in seeing them reformed. And if they don’t reform, I have failed.

Yes, Mormons believe we all have our agency. Yes, Mormons believe that each person is solely responsible for their own salvation. Yes, Mormons believe that we are not accountable for the sins of others, including our spouses. But I have been an LDS bishop. I have spoken with people considering divorce, and the guilt and shame they feel at approaching that decision is catastrophic. It is consuming. They feel like they failed, not only their spouse but God.

They generally don’t think: Whoa, I made a terrible decision. What was I thinking? I better get out of that fast. They think: Oh no. I made a decision I CAN’T go back on. I made covenants with God. I committed to do this. This is who I am now.

And I won’t even begin to discuss how abuse complicates those feelings. People far smarter than me who understand the psychology of the abuser and the abused will explain much better than I can how complex that relationship is and how difficult it can be to escape from because of, well, shame and guilt and embarrassment. Abuse is a bear trap. Those of us outside looking in think, “Well, duh, get out. Run. Go!” But of course it is not that easy for those on the inside, as anyone who has suffered from abuse can tell you.

And while I am relieved that these women eventually did end their marriage and did acquire a divorce, I am saddened to think that they may have felt trapped in the relationship because of their understanding of Mormon theology.

Here’s the deal. God does not want you in an abusive relationship. Ever. God does not want you to stay in an abusive relationship in the hope of one day working it out. Ever. God wants you safe. God wants you well. God wants you to feel peace of mind. God wants to remove you from any threatening situation. That’s what God wants. Does he want marriages to succeed? Of course He does. But not at the expense of abuse. Ever.

Oh how I wish every bishop of the Church would cement that in their minds. The counsel should NEVER be, “Well you DID make a covenant to be with this man. You did promise to cherish him and help him. So . . .”

No! No! No!

The response should be. “Oh my gosh! I’m so glad you came to me. We need to get you safe. If you don’t feel safe at home, we need to find you and your children someplace safe temporarily while we seek legal counsel. I would never forgive myself if you left this office and I didn’t do all I could to protect you and your children and prevent this from every happening again.”

Sadly, the bishops of these women, didn’t say that. One of them — allegedly — even suggested that the wife should overlook the abuse because it might hurt her husband’s career.

Um, what? Um, excuse me?

I can’t even . . . I just . . . no.

As a former bishop, I can state unequivocally and without reservation that bishops don’t know what they’re doing most of the time. Or at least I didn’t. And other bishops I’ve spoken with have expressed the same. It’s not because we don’t care. And it’s not because we’re unfamiliar with Church policy. It’s because bishops are lay clergy. They didn’t go to a theological school to study doctrine and seek pastoring as a career. They don’t even ASK to be bishop. It’s not something you volunteer for. A higher church authority brings you into his office and asks you to do it for free in your spare time.

And there’s very little training. You’re basically handed an instruction manual and told, “Good luck.”

And what follows are experiences and concerns that you feel wholly inadequate to address. I have never had serious marital problems. I have never been addicted to pornography. I have never been abused. I have never dealt with same-sex attraction. I have never gone hungry. But from day one as a bishop, the members of the Church who DO struggle with these challenges expect you to be able to offer guidance and help. And because you love these people, and because your heart breaks for them, you desperately WANT to help. You’re just not sure how. At least, not 100% sure.

And here’s the other challenge. Bishops are generally really, really nice guys. They hate conflict. They hate confrontation. They hate telling people: You’re bad. You’re dangerous. You’re wrong. That makes them very poorly equipped to address abuse.

Bishops want to hug. Bishops want to reassure you that all will be well in the end. They’re care bears. Not body guards. And in the instances of abuse, the person across the desk doesn’t need a care bear. She needs a body guard. Played by Dwayne Johnson. With a bat and a bazooka and some steel-toed shoes. And bishops aren’t great at being that guy. They’ve never been that guy. They’re in a suit. They’re programmed to be nice. Sometimes they’re old.

I remember once as a bishop I was dealing with an instance of abuse. The abuser lived out of state. I contacted the bishop and stake president of this abuser because I wanted Dwayne Johnson in steel-toed shoes. I wanted action. The members of the church needed protection. But since the abuser was not an “active” member of the Church, the stake president and bishop did nothing. Nada. Not a darn thing. I was profoundly disappointed. No, that’s an understatement. I was royally ticked off. Sorry, dudes. I know what I’m asking will make you uncomfortable, but shouldn’t we do everything we can to protect the innocent? Shouldn’t we drop the hammer in this instance? Christ didn’t politely ask the moneychangers to leave the temple when they were done. He drove them out. He was ticked.

And what did he say about those who abused children? Oh yeah, that it were better if a mill stone were draped around their neck and they were dropped into the sea. The Lord don’t mess when it comes to abuse. And so neither should we.

I’ve known many bishops. They are good men. They’re doing their best. They didn’t sign up for this. They’re not experts. But I hope as a church we can do a better job of protecting those in abusive relationships and helping them get help and get safe. We can’t shy away from it. We can’t simply pray for the abused and hope heaven cleans up the mess. We have to put on our steel-toed boots. We have to say what the abused needs to hear. We have to comfort and show sympathy. We have to direct her to the people who can help her in all the ways she need help: therapists, the police, lawyers, family, whomever.

What we don’t need is the bishop who says, “I got this” and who tries to solve this by sharing a few scriptures. Nope. What we don’t need is the bishop who says, “There is no excuse for divorce.” Because (A) that’s wrong and (B) that’s dangerous to say. What we don’t need is the bishop too timid and tepid to tackle abuse head on, who turns the other way, who looks out for the abuser before the abused. What we don’t need is the bishop who doubts reported abuse. Or who is slow to address it. Or who — again for emphasis — gives the slightest consideration to the abuser’s career!

And what we certainly don’t need is another wife who feels trapped in an abusive situation without a priesthood leader she can turn to to help.

I love our doctrine on marriage. I love our good bishops. I love the Church’s position on abuse, that it cannot be tolerated in any form. I salute these women for their courage and their strength. I hope they hold to the belief that the Church is a safe place, that the counsel they received from previous bishops is not okay and not the norm and that it, like the abuse itself, won’t be tolerated.

We all have to be care bears, yes. We all have to be nice. But in God’s army, there are times when our inner Dwayne Johnson needs to come out roaring and swinging and running to the rescue.

Donald Trump’s victory last night in New Hampshire validated what polls have been saying for months: that Trump is the GOP frontrunner for the nomination. This despite the fact that he has zero political experience, villifies immigrants and Muslims, has appallingly bad ideas, and has the eloquence and demeanor of a middle-schooler.

Those who revere Trump would likely say that his lack of political experience is his greatest strength. He’s an outsider. He hasn’t been tainted by the system. He doesn’t live in the pockets of special-interest groups. He hasn’t hob-nobbed with lobbyist and sold his vote to anyone except the American people.

Fine. But do you know who also meets those standards? Nearly every single person in America. You could say the same thing about me or yourself or your dear Aunt Myrtle, but that doesn’t mean that we’re qualified to be president of the United States. A president must work with everyone within the political system, including those within in his own party, those in the opposing party, and those of other nations throughout the world. He must compromise, unite, build coalitions, build concensus, build confidence in America.

But that’s what Trump is good at, say his supporters. He wrote The Art of the Deal. He’s a brilliant negotiator. He’s been bringing people to conference tables to hash out mergers and acquisitions and deals of all sorts his entire career. He knows how to work the room; he knows how to get the best deal for himself; he knows how to get everybody’s signature on the final contract. The man is a master at getting things done.

Fine. He can run a corporation. Or even many corporations. He knows when to hold them, and he knows when to fold them. Great. But the United States is not a corporation. Donald Trump would not be the CEO of America. The country’s bottom line is not our only measure of success. Yes, all CEOs must also consider their employees, but we are not the employees of Donald Trump. We’re not even the employees of America. That’s communism. We’re the employees of ourselves. Well, technically we’re the employees of whoever pays our salaries, but you see my point. We don’t work for the president. We don’t seek his approval or give him obligatory applause at the company Christmas dinner. We’re free. The president works for us. He makes decisions and encourages policymakers to protect our freedom and our rights to be us.

And the president must do that by having ideas that the American people can get behind.

Yet whenever pressed for specifics on his policies, Trump is evasive, promising essentially that “he’ll get the best people together and they’ll get the best ideas and results.”

OK. I guess we’ll take your word for it, Mr. Trump. No, no, don’t tell us what those ideas are or even who these brilliant people are. We don’t need to know. As long as you say it’s so, we’ll believe you.

Granted, Trump has proposed a few ideas. The one that gets the most press is his proposed wall along the Mexican American border to stop the flow of immigrants into the United States. It’s estimated that the wall would cost about $8 billion, and Trump claims he’ll give the bill to the Mexican government, which of course is ludicrous. Why would Mexico fork over a single peso to build a structure that does not benefit them in the slightest?

Personally, I don’t think Trump intends to build anything of the sort. I think he’s merely capitalizing on the racism that exists in America toward immigrants and Hispanics.

Note: I am not suggesting that everyone who supports the idea of a wall is a racist. I don’t believe that. I am merely suggesting that racism toward Hispanics and immigrants exists in this country and that those who despise those groups of people gravitate toward Trump as their candidate of choice. He has made inflammatory and derogatory comments about immigrants, to great applause at his rallies.

And for those who would disagree with my using the term “racism” (which I agree is a harsh and hot word), what term would you use? If not racism then what is it exactly?

NPR this morning interviewed one Trump supporter in New Hampshire and asked him why he voted for Trump. His response was, “I go into Panera and I hear people speaking in Spanish. That’s just not right. This is America. If you’re going to live here, you need to speak English.”

In other words, this person voted for Trump because Trump dislikes immigrants, because people need to speak English here dadgummit!

If that’s not racism, I don’t know what is. His complaint wasn’t the infringement of economic opportunities for American citizens. It wasn’t entitlement programs for non-citizens. It was his grating annoyance at hearing someone speak a foreign language. And by golly, that has got to stop!

It baffles me.

Granted, if you look at the Trump site, there are a few good ideas. Like Trump’s proposal that all veterans eligible for VA health care can take their veteran’s card to any doctor or car facility that accepts Medicare to get the care they need immediately.

On paper that’s a good idea. It largely diminishes the need for VA hospitals at all if vetereans can go anywhere Medicare is accepted, but it does address a real need. I was in an auto accident the other day with a Vietnam vet (his fault), and he talked about the need to drive hundreds of miles to the the nearst VA hospital in Atlanta. He also claimed the care he got at VA facilities was far better than he could get anywhere else. So I suspect this gentlemen would appreciate Trump’s proposal.

But guess what? Marco Rubio says essentially the same thing, although Rubio takes is a stop further and proposes giving veterans a financial equivalent in funds so that they can seek care from the private sector provider of their choice. So not just Medicare providers, but anybody.

Ted Cruz says the same.

So yes, Trump has some ideas. But they’re not unique, except of course for the ones that are discriminatory and inflammatory.

And that’s what I don’t understand. I don’t see why people rally to his banner. It’s not for his ideas. It’s not for his statesman-like demeanor, because he doesn’t have any. It’s not for the poise and respectability he would bring to the office.

I can only assume that hundreds of thousands of people cheer his name because they want a straight shooter. They want someone who will speak his mind, unscripted, and unfiltered by political influences. They want strength, not some pre-programmed Washington robot. The want the real deal, raw and emboldened and shooting from the hip. That feels refreshing. That’s different. That’s alien to the political system. Not since Teddy Roosevelt have we had such a blustery fireball of unforgiving candor. Nobody owns Trump, and he’ll be darned if anybody tries.

But is that the qualifications for president we hold most dear? Is that what makes a man or woman apt for the job? A sense of frankness and fearlessness? A loud mouth? An unpredictable brashness?

I think of Jesse Ventura when I look at Trump. But not the former governor of Minnesota version; I see the wrestler version, grabbing the microphone from the commentator and filling the auditorium with threats and promises of harm for the other guy. “Oh yeah, Putin? Is that what you got? Well, I’m gonna put a hurt on you like you’ve never seen. I’m gonna squeeze you so hard, your eyeballs pop out. I’m gonna tie you into a knot so tight…” and on and on.

To that the Trump supporter would say, “You’re darn right! It’s about time we stood up to Putin. It’s about time we squeezed out his eyeballs. Obama has made us a laughing stock. We are weaker in the eyes of the world than we were seven years ago. We’re a laughing stock. Nobody takes us seriously. We need to stand up and make America great again.”

I think it’s that slogan that has done the most good for Trump. It’s a smart bit of marketing. Let’s make America great again. The implication of course is that America was once great. We used to have our stuff together. We used to be the gold standard of the world in terms of economics and human rights. We used to inspire people across the globe. We used to stand for something, mean something, BE something. But we’re not anymore. We’re less than we were. We’ve shrunk in esteem. We’ve diminished in influence. We’ve dropped down a few ladder rungs in terms of global respect. We’re not the class president anymore. We’re not even the treasurer or the captain of the football team. We’re the what? The nerdy chemistry teacher everyone makes fun behind his back?

Well that has to end. We need to be on top again. We need to be the best. We need to be numero uno with our chests puffed out and our heads held high.

And it’s that call for greatness that appeals to people most, I think. That end of mediocrity, that promise of reaching our former lofty position of grandeur.

I’m not opposed to that of course. No one is. Everyone wants America to be great.

And I’d agree that America is not the America is has been in the past. We’re not as strong as we once were in terms of global respect and admiration. We’re not the gold standard. I just don’t see how Donald Trump can get us there. If anything, we would become even more disliked and hated and despised. Trump is already the punchline for media coverage throughout the world of this election. The Brits want to ban him from the country. Terorists are using his sound bites in their recruitment videos. Europeans are snickering and rolling their eyes as they read the papers and chew on croissants. How can Trump, who is already the producer of so much global and national disdain, take us anyway but down?