Different Perspectives

Here are a couple excerpts from Flip by David Lubar from different points of view that are interesting to consider together. I think this reflects the sort of thing that happens all the time.

Taylor:
"They're checking us out," Ariel whispered. She ran a hand through her hair.

Taylor shook her head. "Not us. Just you." There was no denying Ariel was gorgeous. Boys had been looking at her since the fifth grade.

"Don't talk like that," Ariel said.

Taylor sped up, eager to get away from the group by the door. But wherever she and Ariel went, she was aware of the stares. And aware that they weren't aimed at her.

Ellis:
Taylor was pretty, too. Maybe even prettier than Ariel, he thought as he studied the two of them together. But she was so much like a sister, he had no trouble talking when she was around. I wonder if she knows how pretty she is? He figured she must. How could she not know?

A Quick Anne Quote

Tonight I was thinking about things my friends sometimes post on facebook, bragging on their husbands' thoughtfulness or saying that they have the best husband in the world.

Then I remembered this exchange in Anne of Avonlea.

"What is it really like to be engaged?" asked Anne curiously.

"Well, that all depends on who you're engaged to," answered Diana, with that maddening air of superior wisdom always assumed by those who are engaged over those who  are not. "It's perfectly lovely to be engaged to Fred . . . but I think it would be simply horrid to be engaged to anyone else."

"There's not much comfort for the rest of us in that, seeing that there is only one Fred," laughed Anne.

Insert polygamy joke here.

Mismatched Moods

At the top of each hymn in our hymn book, there is an adjective indicating how each hymn should be played or sung. For some, it is Reverently. For others, it is Joyfully, or Resolutely, or Meekly. The adjective at the beginning of We Thank Thee, O God, For a Prophet is Brightly. And I think for the most part we do pretty well at singing that hymn brightly.

But the thing is, there are a couple of lines in that song that just don't feel at all happy or bright to me. When I sing them, the contrast between what I am singing and the manner in which I am singing it is rather disconcerting.

The first line is in the second verse: The wicked who fight against Zion will surely be smitten at last.
I can see how there can be some comfort in knowing that justice will be served. But smitten is a very strong verb and it is easy to go from being glad that there will be justice, a good thing, to enjoying the thoughts of our enemies suffering as a type of cosmic revenge. Also, I tend to think of this justice as being a sober thing that must be fulfilled, not as something bright and cheerful. I also remember that nearly all people will be inheriting some degree of glory in the hereafter and that we are told to love our enemies. Those two bits of information do not seem at all consistent with feeling joy while thinking of anybody being smitten.

I previously posted thoughts on a similar matter in Death of a Bad Man.

The other line that bothers me is the very last line of the song: While they who reject this glad message shall never such happiness know.

When I was a teenager, I had a hard time understanding how we could be truly happy knowing that other people missed out on so many blessings and chances for progression in the eternities. Especially people we knew and loved. I found a section in C.S. Lewis's book The Great Divorce that helped me, but unfortunately I can't find the book now.*

But it still saddens me when I think of people missing out. And these aren't even necessarily bad people. They just for whatever reason do not accept the gospel. There are plenty of good, moral people out there who don't believe or don't give it a chance. So to sing brightly about them missing out just doesn't sit quite right with me.

That said, I do like the hymn overall. I had a very wonderful experience singing it in the Conference Center during General Conference several years ago (which is actually the first time I remember noticing the disconnect). I am grateful for the gospel and the prophet and continuing revelation, and I do feel the optimism and hope expressed. I just wish that a couple of what seem to me very serious, sober lines were treated with a touch more gravitas.

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* December 3, 2011: I now have a copy of the book with me and found the passage, which it turns out is a bit too long to include in the main post. So I'm putting it down here.

"...What some people say on Earth is that the final loss of one soul gives the lie to all the joy of those who are saved."

"Ye see it does not."

"I feel in a way that it ought to."

"That sounds very merciful: but see what lurks behind it."

"What?"

"The demand of the loveless and the self-imprisoned that they should be allowed to blackmail the universe: that till they consent to be happy (on their own terms) no one else shall taste joy: that theirs should be the final power; that Hell should be able to veto Heaven....it must be one way or the other. Either the day must come when joy prevails and all the makers of misery are no longer able to infect it: or else for ever and ever the makers of misery can destroy in others the happiness they reject for themselves."