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On Time

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OK, hypothetical situation: you’re the final speaker in sacrament meeting, and the previous speakers have left you no time. Technically the meeting should be concluding about now, but you haven’t even started talking yet.

What do you do?

Deliver the ten-minute talk you worked so hard to prepare? Cut it down to five minutes so the meeting only goes five minutes over? Tell the congregation how grateful you are that you don’t have to speak after all and sit down?

Hmm. Let’s consider each option.

Give the talk you prepared.

You worked hard. You prayed. You meditated. You spent hours in front of the computer screen writing and rewriting, thinking and rethinking. The scriptures you found are dead on. The quotes you found from general authorities are perfectly appropriate.

In short, the talk is a masterpiece.

And you’re certain the Lord guided you in your preparation. You felt inspired to go to certain scriptures, to look in certain books, to read certain passages. This is the message the Lord wants you to give. You’re sure of that.

And to cut any of it would be a travesty. It’s perfect as is. It can’t be shortened.

So ignore the clock and just do it.

Cut it down.

Although it pains you, maybe there is a way to slice off a minute or two here and there. Perhaps you don’t need that lengthy quote from Brigham Young. And maybe you can live without reading a few of the scriptures.

What’s important is that the congregation understands the gist of your talk, right? You can still make your point. You can’t use as many examples, of course, but you can still communicate the main idea.

And so what if you’re a few minutes over? Doesn’t sacrament meeting go over every Sunday anyway? Why should this Sunday be any different?

Besides, it isn’t your fault the other speakers completely ignored the time parameters given them and spoke for twenty minutes each instead of for twelve.

So, yes, you can cut down the talk to a few minutes. And if the meeting goes a little over, so what?

Say a sentence or two and sit down.

Making a joke about how the other speakers left you no time is probably a bad idea – no need to embarrass them; they probably know by now that they went over and likely feel bad about it. Why kick them while they’re down?

The best thing to do is to bear a brief testimony of the topic and sit down. Yes, you prepared a beautiful talk, but time is time. The Lord’s house is a house of order.

If you go over, you’re only doing to the Sunday School teacher what the previous speakers did to you: robbing time.

Best to put an end to this by keeping your message under thirty seconds. Doing so will get everyone back on track and not disrupt the remaining meetings.

OK, there are the arguments. Each has its merits, right? So which is the right choice? A, B, or C?

My vote: follow the brethren.

Sessions of General Conference always end on time. In fact, sometimes sessions even end early. President Hinckley is notorious for that.

Shouldn’t we do the same?

Meetings should end on time. Period. And if a meeting does go over, it only does so at the request of the priesthood authority presiding at the meeting. Speakers do not have the “right” to make that decision.

Consider testimony meetings. In some wards, members hoping to bear their testimony go and sit on the stand to “wait their turn.”

Now, if a long line forms and time expires, the bishop does NOT have to wait for everyone to have their turn. He may stand up and conclude the meeting precisely when he is supposed to – even if that means several people must return to their seats without having born their testimony.

Of course, he can allow the meeting to go over if he so chooses. But he doesn’t have to. He’s presiding. It’s his call.

I always chuckle to myself when I notice someone trying to beat the bishop to the pulpit. They know he’s about to conclude the meeting, so they hustle to the microphone before he can get there.

My favorite, of course, is when someone asks permission. They’re already on the stand. They know time is up. And yet they ask permission anyway.

This is usually done with body language. They gesture to the bishop that they’re comments will be brief. (The most common gesture is the thumb and forefinger placed close together. “I’ll only use a little time,” they say.)

And because they do so in front of EVERYONE, the bishop’s only option is to say yes. He’s backed in a corner. If he flat out says no, he’ll seem cruel – even though it’s his prerogative and responsibility to do so.

This problem isn’t isolated to sacrament meeting, though. Watching the clock should be a priority no matter what meeting we’re attending.

Take Sunday School for example. I once had a teacher who always ended five or ten minutes over. Always.

And it wasn’t that she simply forgot about the time. That’s a natural mistake. This teacher knew what time it was and chose to go over.

I know this because she always said, “I know we’re over time, but…” right when we were supposed to be concluding. And then she would go on to share a few more scriptures or read another quote or ask another question or show another visual aid.

She totally disregarded the clock.

As a result, priesthood and relief society always started late. And as a result of that, the teachers of those classes always had less time than they needed to share their prepared lesson – further proof that when someone goes over, everyone suffers.

The worse abuse of time management, however, occurs when a teacher or speaker goes over in the final meeting.

If church is supposed to end at noon, for example, the teacher should not conclude his or her lesson at 12:05. This is wrong.

And some of you are saying, “What’s five minutes? Isn’t the purpose of the Sabbath to come together and worship? Why should it matter if the teacher goes over a few minutes? Perhaps Brother Johnston should worry more about his spiritual development than about getting out of class on time.”

And to that I say, “You must not have children in Primary or nursery.”

The Primary presidency and nursery leader cannot leave until every child has been reunited with a parent. If one meeting goes over, these sweet sisters are stuck babysitting our children. And frankly, that’s not fair.

Parents should pick up their children precisely when they are expected to. So if a meeting does go over, parents should sneak out and hustle over to Primary. Their first obligation is to their child.

This subject is a little sensitive to me because my wife is Primary president. She’s often had to wait around for a dawdling parent to come and retrieve their child.

She shouldn’t have to.

And the same goes for Primary activities. Some parents, for whatever reason, can’t pick up their children when they’re supposed to. If the activity ends at noon, for example, some parents don’t show up until 12:30, long after most kids have gone home.

This makes no sense to me. If the activity ends at noon, parents should be there and waiting before noon. This is simply common courtesy, right?

But enough complaining. My point is this: meetings should end on time. Speakers and teachers should end when they’re supposed to, regardless of what time has been used up before them. Your preparation, however extensive, does not entitle you to ignore the clock. We are all slaves to time, even at church.

And speaking of time, mine is up.

Church Ads. Isn’t It About Time?

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I hate bad advertising.

Take last night, for example. I was driving home when I heard a sixty-second radio spot for a local plumbing company. During the spot, an announcer explains – rather excitedly I might add – that plumbers from this particular company don’t smell bad.

And that was it. For a whole sixty seconds, all the man talked about was how these plumbers don’t reek of bad odor.

Rather than talk about their service or prices or reliability, this plumbing company choose to put all their advertising eggs in the no-stinky-staff-members basket.

ANNOUNCER: So call Thompsom Plumbing. Because our plumbers don’t smell bad.

OK, did I miss something? Did I suddenly fall into a parallel universe, one in which plumbers are hired to NOT smell bad instead of being hired to fix the pipes?

I can see it now. I’m sitting in the living room with my wife.

“Golly, this house stinks,” I say. “The candles stink. The trash stinks. The dog stinks. Can’t we get some relief?”

My wife raises a finger, as if suddenly struck with inspiration. “I know,” she says. “What we need is something that does NOT stink.”

“By George you’re right,” I say, sitting up suddenly. “But whatever could that be?”

As an answer to our plea, the radio plays a particular commercial.

ANNOUNCER: So call Thompsom Plumbing. Because our plumbers don’t smell bad.

“Eureka!” I shout. “That’s the answer. Quick, honey, write down that number. ”

OK, I hate to burst your bubble, local plumbing company, but nobody cares that your plumbers all small of roses. Think about it. If the toilet explodes and water is spraying up to the ceiling, all I care about is that someone stops the water before the house floats away. He could be a rotten egg with hands for all I care. What’s important is that he fixes the leak.

Of course, what’s most appalling about this ad is that someone thought this was a good idea and paid real American dollars to produce it and play it on the radio.

Ouch.

The fact is, bad advertising is far more prevalent than good advertising. That’s why we as Latter-day Saints should thank our lucky stars that the church clearly understands how to advertise.

A few years ago, when a friend of mine found out I was Mormon, he immediately started singing.

“Mr. Robinson, I broke your window. Mr. Robinson, I broke your window.” And then finished the operatic performance singing, “I told the truthhhhhhhhhhhh.”

I had completely forgotten this spot, but as he explained it to me, it slowly came back to memory.

In the commercial, a little boy hits a baseball through the window of his aged neighbor, Mr. Robinson. The boy then must decide if he’s going to fess up to the deed or run away with hopes of never getting caught.

Well, of course he admits to doing it. But he does so in song.

The old man comes to the door and the little boy sings, “Mr. Robinson, I broke your window. Mr. Robinson, I broke your window.” And then when the relief of being honest washes over him, he sings triumphantly, “I told the truth.”

The spot ended with the announcer saying something about the importance of being honest.

I may be butchering the commercial, but that’s the gist of it.

And here was my friend, some fifteen years later, reciting the commercial as if he’d seen it on television only yesterday.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is every advertiser’s dream: long recall.

The church has been making public service announcements like this one for over thirty years. (Well, actually Bonneville Communications made the spots for the Church.) They’re all part of the Homefront campaign, the longest lasting, “most highly awarded PSA campaign series in broadcasting history” (Bonneville Communications website).

You hear that? The most awarded PSA campaign in history. In a word, church advertising rocks!

My favorite series of ads from the Homefront campaign end with the tagline: “Family. Isn’t it about time?” These are classics.

The best of the bunch is the one in which a little girl constantly asks her father to read to her a story. Remember this one? At the end of the spot the little girl creeps into her parents’ room while they’re sleeping.

“Daddy, can you read me a story?” she asks once again, in that adorable, not-pronounced-correctly way.

The father barely wakes up. “Go ask Mommy,” he manages to say.

The little girl then walks around the bed to Mom’s side and asks, “Mommy, can Daddy read me a story?”

OK, say it with me: Ahhhhhhhhh. Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?

It’s a cute spot. And I’m a sucker for cute.

Another classic spot was the one in which a gruff-looking factory working sings to his daughter over the telephone. He’s at work taking a break, and the little girl has apparently requested a rendition of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

Fearful that his fellow workers might overhear him singing a children’s song and think him unmanly, the father begins singing quietly. Soon, however, he’s into the song and singing as loudly as he would if he were home. His daughter couldn’t be happier.

He then tells her he loves her and hangs up the phone.

Sure enough, a crowd of men have gathered. They tease him for his singing, but he shows no sign of shame.

“What can I say?” he says, smiling. “She’s my little girl.”

That, folks, is a great spot.

The true genius of these commercials, though, is that they’re all public service announcements. That means they get free air time. The church pays to distribute the spots, but not to play them. Television and radio stations do that for free.

And why for free? Well, firstly because TV and radio stations are required by law to play so many minutes of PSAs a month. Secondly, PSAs are for the public good. They teach lessons on morality and family values that benefit all of society.

That’s why I’m sad the church has made so few, if any, Homefront spots recently. The campaign has practically skidded to a halt. After thirty years of consistently good advertising, the church has slowed Homefront to a crawl.

There are several reasons for this, the economy being the most obvious. When money is tight, advertising budgets are often the first ones to go.

But another reason is that the church has placed a greater emphasis on the “call for a free copy” campaign. You know the one I’m talking about. In these spots, a toll-free number pops on screen and the announcer invites people to call in and get a free copy of the Book of Mormon or the Bible.

It’s a great campaign. The church has had tremendous success with it. Thousands of fellow Christians have been introduced to our beliefs through this effort.

But I sure do miss the Homefront ads. And so…

Dear Church Audio Visual Department,

My fellow Homefront fans and I are dying for some more commercials. Don’t leave us hanging. The campaign has been doing just fine for thirty years now, so let’s not spoil a good thing. Get out there and roll those cameras.

And while we’re waiting, put all the past Homefront ads on a DVD collection and sell it through church distributon. People would buy it. I know I would. The vignettes of cute kids and happy family moments are far more entertaining than most movies I see these days.

Respectfully yours,

Aaron Johnston

Come on, wouldn’t a DVD collection be cool? What could be more fun than gathering the family on a Sunday evening and watching the Homefront ads?

Goodness, now that I think about it, that’s a Homefront ad in and of itself, a family gathering to watch good commercials. It brings a tear to my eye.

Little People And Big Meetings

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I’ve often heard stories of investigators visiting our church and being thunderstruck by all the noise from the congregation.

“Golly, you people are loud,” a friend of my wife’s once said. This was back in high school and she had invited him to a sacrament meeting.

“Loud?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“All those babies crying. It was hard to concentrate on the speaker.”

My wife was very perplexed by this. As far as she was concerned, there weren’t any babies crying, not any more than usual anyway. And if there were a few noises here and there, she hadn’t found them disruptive.

What my wife didn’t know at the time was that she, like the rest of us, had developed an aural immunity to babies. She had become so accustomed to their occasional wails and whimpers that she didn’t even notice them anymore. Her mind filtered them out like static.

I didn’t fully realize this principle until I went to BYU and attended a single’s ward. I was shocked by how quiet it was. And I mean QUIET. No babies, no rattles, nothing. It was almost eery.

When the summer rolled around and I went back home to my family ward, I immediately noticed the noise. Babies crying, children sniffling, crayons scratching.

It was incredibly distracting. I had become so accustomed to the quieter version of sacrament meeting that my spoiled ears had a tough time readjusting.

No one’s to blame for this, of course. Not even the kids. Few children, I believe, are intentionally disruptive. They’re not trying to distract anyone. They’re just kids. They make noise. That’s what kids do. Especially the tiny ones; they can’t talk, so they cry.

This doesn’t mean, of course, that we parents shouldn’t make an effort to minimize the noise. In fact, we should do everything we can to keep them as quiet as possible.

I’ve seen several different strategies for doing this: books, puzzles, Cheerios, crayons and blank paper. I’ve even seen some parents simply hold their child. They don’t bring any amenities like those mentioned above, they just sit and, in theory, train the children to listen to the speaker.

Wow.

But whatever quieting tactic you implement, one fact remains: sooner or later that child is going to make noise. And when that happens, you have to decide, Can I quiet this child relatively quickly or do I need to take it out into the foyer or the cry room or wherever it is you prefer to take loud children?

Different parents have different philosophies. I’ve seen some parents rush their children out of a meeting at the slightest hint of a noise. And I’ve seen other parents keep their child in the meeting even when it’s obvious the child is distracting the rest of the congregation and making quite a scene.

My wife and I are currently trying to convince our twenty-month-old son that staying in sacrament meeting is far more enjoyable than going out. So, if he does make a lot of noise and needs to be taken out, we don’t let him run around. We hold him.

He hates that, especially if he sees that broad, empty gym floor while he’s in my arms. He looks at me as if to say, “Why are you holding me when there’s so much beautiful, polyurethaned flooring to run across? Let me down, weasel.”

I feel particularly bad because running and sliding through the gym always sounds like a good idea to me too.

So knowing when to take the child out is tricky indeed. Parents want to be courteous to others, but they also want to teach their children that sacrament meeting is where it’s at. Children are slow to believe this, however, and usually meet such thinking with resistance.

The Sacrament

I know of two philosophies concerning little children and the sacrament.

1. Children under the age of eight years old are not baptized members of the church and therefore do not and should not partake of the sacrament because it is an ordinance intended for those who have made baptismal covenants.

2. Allowing young children to participate in this ordinance teaches them to respect it and recognize it as a special event during our worship. Plus kids like imitating their parents. and it’s easier to let them partake of the sacrament than to explain to them why they can’t.

I learned recently that it’s a good idea for parents to agree on these philosophies. My wife, for example, leans toward the latter of the two. She gives our son the bread and water.

I lean toward the former since our little one usually spills the water on himself anyway and takes forever to drink it. Plus he’s not technically a member yet.

But since my wife is usually holding him during the passing of the sacrament, he’s always taken it. This past week, however, was different. My wife had to speak in sacrament meeting and was on the stand throughout the meeting. So the little guy sat in my lap.

When the bread tray came around, I took a piece for myself but, because of my opinion on the matter, didn’t give him one and handed back the tray.

This was a bad idea. My son, who clearly saw the tray and knew what it contained, became very upset that I would jilt him out of his bread.

He can’t talk yet, but it was obvious from his whining that he wanted to say, “Hey, what’s the big idea? Am I invisible here? It’s not like it’s caviar, Pop. Let me have my scrap of bread. Sheesh.”

It didn’t help matters that the priesthood lined up near our pew to return to the sacrament table and my son thought it still possible to reach out and get what he wanted. In fact, if I hadn’t restrained him, he might have jumped out of the pew and tackled the unsuspecting deacon.

I would have liked to have seen that, of course. Every father is proud to watch a son pull off a dangerous stunt. But since it was the chapel and since someone would have had to clean up the bread thrown from the tray during the assault and since that someone would likely have been me, I decided to I spare the deacon and took my son out before he could launch himself.

Needless to say that when the water tray came around to the foyer, my son got his very own cup.

It’s not easy being a parent. Knowing how to handle children during meetings is just one of those learn-as-you-go kind of lessons.

But whatever your philosophy, one thing is for certain: children belong in church. They bring light to our worship services, joy to our meetings.

I’m not ashamed to admit that my favorite sacrament meeting of the year is the primary program. That’s when doctrine is presented in its simplest and most direct form. That’s when the speakers are truly humble — and oftentimes, when the Spirit is the strongest.

It’s no wonder Christ invites us to be like little children. They’re innocent, pure, and full of the love of Christ. But I wonder, when Christ made his invitation, was he thinking only of quiet children? Or does he mean for us to be like children in all respects?

I can only assume he meant reverent children. Which is a shame, really, because I’d really like to slide across that gym floor in this suit.

Who’s It Gonna Be?

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Put your hands together, brothers and sisters. It’s time once again to play your favorite after-church guessing game . . . Guess That Calling!

Cue cheesy game-show music.

And heeeeeeeeere’s your host.

Applause

HOST: Thank you, Mr. Announcer Voice. And welcome, everyone, to today’s show. Our three lovely contestants, Ted, Pam, and Gidgidonni, all have their buzzers ready, so let’s jump right in and begin round one. Ted, you’re our returning champion; why don’t you pick the first category?

TED: I’ll choose “Bishopric” for 200 please.

HOST: And the question is, “Brother Jones, the second counselor in the bishopric, announced today that he and his family are moving out of state. Who will the bishop call to take his place?”

BUZZ

HOST: Ted.

TED: Brother Williams?

HOST: Oh, good guess, Ted. Brother Williams is a spiritual guy, but the bishop will actually keep him as the high priest group leader.

BUZZ

HOST: Pam.

PAM: Brother McKenzie?

HOST: Oh, sorry, Pam. Brother McKenzie will stay as the ward financial clerk. Gidgidonni?

BUZZ

GIDGIDDONI: Sister Adams?

HOST: Uh . . . no, Sister Adams is a female, Gidgidonni. Only brethren can serve in the bishopric. The correct answer was Brother Clark, who no one thought of because he’s been teaching in the Primary for the past few years and no one notices him. OK, Ted, you still have possession.

TED: I’ll take “Young Men” for 300, please.

HOST: And the question is, “Brother Smith, the Young Men’s president, was just called to the stake High Council. Who will the bishop call to take his place?”

BUZZ

HOST: Pam.

PAM: That new guy in the ward?

HOST: Judges, can we accept “That new guy in the ward”?

BING!

HOST: That’s correct, Pam. And for your information, that new guy’s name is Brother Hilton. He and his wife just graduated from BYU. Aren’t they cute? OK, Pam you’ve got the board.

PAM: I’ll take “Stake Presidency” for 1,000, please.

HOST: And the question is…

BING! BING! BING!

HOST: Oh, it’s today’s Daily Double. Pam, how much of your earnings would you like to wager?

PAM: I only have 300 points.

HOST: All righty, then. I’ll take that to mean you’re putting it all on the line. The question is, “This November will be ten years since our stake presidency was called. In all likelihood, a new stake presidency will be sustained. Can you name at least two members of the new stake presidency?”

Tick Tock Tick Tock TIck Tock BING!

HOST: OK, Pam. What’s your answer?

PAM: Uh…I’m going to go with Bishop Peterson of the Second Ward and Brother Gregory from the High Council.

HOST: That’s correct! Good eye, Pam. That discernment could win you the game.

DONG!

HOST: Uh oh. That sound means we only have time for one more question. Pam?

PAM: “Mission Calls” for 400 please.

HOST: And the question is, “Brother and Sister Hanson just put in their mission call. Where will they be called to serve?”

BUZZ

HOST: Ted.

TED: South America?

HOST: Oh, sorry, Ted. Brother Hanson has a weak stomach. He specifically requested a no-bean-eating mission. South America is incorrect.

BUZZ

HOST: Gidgidonni.

GIDGIDDONI: The Relief Society?

HOST: Um…I don’t know how to respond to that except to say “Incorrect.”

BUZZ

HOST: Pam.

PAM: Historic Nauvoo?

HOST: Yes, that’s correct! And that means you, Pam, are our new champion.

Cue cheesy music and applause.

OK, did I get carried away here? Probably, but if you’re like me, you play this game all the time. A family announces that they’re moving, and immediately you begin to wonder who will be called to fill their vacancies.

This happens most frequently with the changing of the guard. Say for example the bishop has been serving in that capacity for a full five years now and next week is ward conference. What’s the first thought in everyone’s mind?

Yep. The bishop will be released.

And what’s the second thought in everyone’s mind?

That’s right. Who will be the new bishop?

Everybody speculates. Everyone’s got their theories.

My wife and I are already betting on our next bishop, and our current one still has eight months to go. It’s not that we don’t like our current bishop. It’s not that we’re eager to see him go. He’s a great guy. We just love playing the guessing game.

Turns out we both have our chips on the same guy. We’ll see.

And what’s my point? Am I saying that we shouldn’t do this? Do I think it’s bad to guess ahead? No. Personally I think it’s kind of fun. Whenever I guess right I can’t help but feel “in tune.”

Because the decision is the Lord’s. All callings are made by direct revelation. The speculations of ward members won’t change the decision one iota.

Which is great. Because it discourages us from seeking callings. We don’t study to be the bishop. We don’t vie for position in the Primary presidency. They come directly from the Lord. I know of no other religious organization that does this.

I’m not faulting ministers of other faiths, of course. It’s wonderful that they dedicate their lives to the Lord. My wife’s uncle is a Presbyterian minister, and if you met him you’d agree that he’s a humble, devout man of God. I have nothing but respect for him and others like him.

But in the LDS church we do things a little differently. We don’t wake up one day and decide, “You know, I’m gonna be a bishop in the Mormon church.”

In fact, the only sure-fire way to NEVER be called bishop — or Relief Society President for that matter — is to WANT the calling. If you’re power hungry, the Lord knows that. And he’ll take humility over ability any old day. Count on it.

I remember an incident on my mission that my mission president told me about. In an interview, one of the missionaries asked him, “So, President, when are you going to make me your assistant?”

You can probably guess what the mission president’s response was.

So seeking after callings won’t win you any points or land you any positions. And that’s why it’s fun to speculate about filling vacancies. We make our guesses based on character instead of trying to determine who works hardest to impress the bishop.

And because our leaders work by direct revelation, we can be sure the right person is called.

I love it when a calling surprises me. “Oh wow. That guy? Yeah, he’s awesome. He’s perfect. I never would have thought of him, but he’s perfect.”

You’ve no doubt heard many similar stories in General Conference. In every story a general authority goes to a stake to call a new patriarch or something and he does all these interviews, but he just can’t find the right guy. So he goes home and prays and the next morning he goes to the meeting and in walks this little old man who no one notices and no one thought would amount to much and the general authority says, “That’s our guy.”

I love these stories. They’re proof that revelation works.

I can’t imagine how difficult a decision it must be to fill a vacancy in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. The prophet has to understand the Lord’s will completely.

Because unlike the bishop of a ward, who has a very limited pool of people to choose from, the prophet can call any member of the church throughout the world.

It’s unlikely, of course, that the Lord will choose someone who hasn’t had some experience in church government, but the possibility exists.

Consider President Howard W. Hunter. When he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles he was serving as a stake president in California. He wasn’t a seventy. He wasn’t an area authority. He was a stake president. Wow. President David O. McKay, who called him, must have clearly understood the principle of revelation.

I’ll admit that I’ve already speculated on who will be called to fill the current vacancies in the Quorum of the Twelve. But I won’t share my theories here. Suffice it to say that whomever the Lord calls will be wonderful, capable men. Of that I am sure.

And I don’t think our speculation on the subject is at all disrespectful of the deceased. In that regard I think we should grieve for the departed, pray for comfort for their families, thank the Lord for their examples and service, and then look to the future.

We don’t forget them. We hold their words close to our heart. But we do so with our chins up and faces forward.

And to respect other men’s honor and character and to hope to be led by them is, in my opinion, not offensive to the Lord.

So be it apostle or bishop or young women’s president, I say speculating on who will be called is harmless meditation. Just keep in mind whose decision it will be. And while we wait, let’s thank the Lord for knowing all men and women far better than we ever can.

Good Gospel Teachers

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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?

Mormollywood

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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.”