It worked for a while … until it didn’t. A few good weeks or months, and she was right back in it.  Up and down, year after year … with the lows becoming measurably lower over time.

What was going on?  I started asking what many families today still wonder:  Is it possible for someone grappling with difficult emotional burdens to find deeper, more sustainable healing? If so, what kind of a treatment and healing trajectory would lead there?

That question has motivated almost everything I’ve done in my career in mental health—up to and including this summary review. 

Seeing the end from the beginning. Among the most salient of differences between secular society and people of faith is the length of their vision. Whereas religiously-committed communities talk almost incessantly about eternity, life trajectories, and “taking the long-view”—people unmoored from any such formal tie back to the Divine tend to focus most often on the opposite: the immediate moment, what can be known and felt and experienced right now. 

The conflict between these emphases can be overstated, of course. It’s a good thing for any of us to be in the present moment and be able to experience it more fully.  And I’ve relished opportunities as a mindfulness teacher to help people in a today’s accelerating society learn to draw their attention back from compulsive wanderings into the present or past, and practice resting in an awareness of everything going on right here and right now—in a way that enhances health in a variety of ways.

But there’s another way of “living in the moment” that isn’t so healthy or life giving—and which believers are rightly suspicious of—the kind of “enjoy this moment” and “do what feels right” mentality that almost invariably includes something like,“and stop worrying so much about future consequences.” Whatever thrill that myopic view might provide, few would advance this as a wise way to approach life and its many problems—especially the big ones.  

Fear and relief in the age of COVID. Among other things, the pandemic has brought out human fears in a hundred and one flavors. From paralyzing worries about sickness and death, to the many rippling concerns about loneliness, strained relationships, aching losses of jobs and opportunities, and loss of freedoms—there seems to be no end to the fear around us. 

So no matter your larger view of the pandemic, it should be understandable to anyone why so many parents today are relieved to hear any news of additional protection for their children that may be available. According to a recent Kaiser Family Foundation survey of parents with children in the 5- to 11-year old age range, approximately one-third of parents want their child to get vaccinated “right away” when an approved vaccination becomes available. Another third of parents understandably want to hear more—especially about details regarding how long the children in this study had been observed and monitored.    

In a highly anticipated announcement in late September, a Pfizer news release revealed that its vaccine had been “shown to be safe and effective in young children.” According to its internal findings, the company stated, “These trial results provide a strong foundation for seeking authorization of our vaccine.” 

Although the details had not been peer-reviewed, published, or submitted to the FDA yet, news outlets widely celebrated the announcement—even predicting that the FDA may well “authorize a vaccine for younger children in a matter of weeks” on an emergency-use basis, and anticipating that millions of elementary school students may be able to receive shots by Halloween. 

Within 24 hours, other news outlets were elaborating on the good news: 

Pfizer itself hinted that other positive news for “children 2-5 years of age and children 6 months to 2 years of age [was] expected as soon as the fourth quarter of this year”—so even toddlers may be eligible by Christmas. 

So far so good, right? 

Safe and effective. A pivotal moment that sparked my own career’s interest in studying long-term pharmacological outcomes was a seminal 1997 study by Graham Emslie and colleagues on the efficacy of fluoxetine (Prozac®) in children. At the time, the trial was heralded as a “landmark study,” with the results widely disseminated in national media as exciting news confirming that “Prozac works for children.” 

Over the next year following the release of that single study, America began to see a measurable increase in antidepressant prescriptions for children across the nation, with rates nearly doubling (49%) over the next 5 years. A few years later, another article announced the finding that paroxetine (Paxil®) was “generally well tolerated and effective for major depression in adolescents.” This study likewise became widely cited over the next decade as evidence that Paxil was “safe and effective” for young people—and ultimately leveraged by GlaxoSmithKline to promote the antidepressant for off-label use in teenagers. 

Unfortunately, in the years following both announcements, the FDA began getting reports about unanticipated adverse effects for youth from these medications, including tragic child suicides. This prompted urgent reviews of both original studies. In each case, independent researchers learned that outcomes had been selectively reported—with data that contradicted a “safe and effective” conclusion de-emphasized, and not even included in the final analysis. Separate analyses giving equal weight to all scales reached very different conclusions about the safety and efficacy of antidepressant use in children—with one researcher concluding that, contrary to the published conclusions, the study data showed clear “harm” for children. In 2003, Britain’s Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) concluded that while there was no evidence of paroxetine’s efficacy in children and adolescents, for instance, there was “robust evidence” of a causal link between the drug and suicidal behavior.

What went wrong? And why were initial perceptions of thrilling results so far off from the longer-term realities? Entire books have been written trying to answer that question by respected journalists, researchers, and medical authorities (here and here and here).  

But the bottom line is this: In our rush to embrace a potential new solution for threats to childhood health, we failed in the past to give sufficient due diligence to the kind of comprehensive and independent analysis needed to ensure these medical interventions had, in fact, been proven to be “safe and effective” over the long-term.  More specifically, in our eagerness to celebrate possible short-term benefits, we neglected to require adequate investigation of the longer-term realities that take more than an 8-week controlled trial to confirm.

How long is long enough? When any health or medical intervention is presented in marketing or news reports as “effective,” most Americans understandably assume the intervention has shown some kind of evidence documenting effectiveness over a sustained period of time. But historically speaking, as illustrated above, that has not always been the case.  

For decades now, the norm across virtually all areas of healthcare—pharmacologically and therapeutically—has been to evaluate “effectiveness” through rigorous trials that are almost exclusively short-term. I’ve conducted one of these short-term randomized-controlled trials myself, for a mindfulness-based intervention for youth. And in a previous job, I studied outcomes for residential treatment for youth—both short and long-term.  Although a handful of such residential treatment studies provide evidence for some enduring effects on participating youth, legitimate critiques have been raised that most such studies “fail to measure outcome after discharge”—with another research team noting that “it is remarkable … “there is very little evidence on long-term outcomes.”

So, that’s what I did. With the encouragement of a wonderful youth non-profit, I called up teenagers and their parents years after residential treatment to find out the actual results of their treatment years later.  Many of these kids had graduated with triumphant celebrations that the treatment had “worked” and they were “better.” But as hundreds of conversations quickly revealed, the longer-term picture was quite different.

One thing was painfully clear: short-term effectiveness was simply not the same thing as was long-term, sustainable effectiveness. Evidence of the first is not the same as evidence of the second. And yet, we’re paying remarkably little attention to that very difference—with most people assuming short-term efficacy must mean that everything will continue along fine in the long-term. But that’s not always the case.  

Similar concerns have continued to be raised in pharmacological studies as well, with new medications routinely approved on the basis of evidence gathered from studies lasting 8 to 12 weeks. After noting a 7.6-week average trial length for the ADHD drug, Strattera® (atomoxetine HCl), a respected researcher remarked: “One must note that although Strattera was approved, and is marketed and promoted, to treat a ‘chronic’ condition, the only studies reviewed by the FDA were short-term studies.” After acknowledging that more children are being treated at even younger ages, two developmental neuroscientists noted similarly that “surprisingly, despite the obvious need for such information, the long-term effects of therapeutic drug exposure on an immature brain have not been adequately assessed at either the clinical or preclinical stage.”

These kinds of limitations prompted my interest, along with that of Florida State University professor Jeffrey Lacasse, in publishing a peer-reviewed review of the many issues involved, in a 2011 article entitled, “What Does It Mean for an Intervention to ‘Work’?”—with a focus on child and adolescent health interventions. Over the subsequent decade and a half, I’ve continued to explore in a variety of ways what constitutes more lasting, sustainable healing for depression and anxiety. 

Improving accountability for long-term studies.  Along the way, many of us wondered what could be done to promote and encourage more long-term research as a matter of policy? In 2005, in pursuit of a higher standard of evidence for drugs used over the long term, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) implemented a new requirement that drug companies submit longer-term efficacy data as part of the drug approval process. Within a few months, however, the Psychopharmacologic Drugs Advisory Committee (made up of many representatives of the industry) voted 12–0 for a resolution instructing the agency to reverse its decision after 10 pharmaceutical companies submitted testimony that this action would “slow drug development and timely approval of new medications for the treatment of mental illness.”

Decisions such as this have kept the number of longer-term studies for pharmacological intervention of any kind limited. In the absence of more extensive research, it is subsequently the short-term studies that continue to be promoted among the general public as primary evidence of effectiveness. That’s largely what we base our decisions upon. This led Dr. David Cohen to caution that conventional medication studies of “initial, ‘selective’ action” can potentially distract and draw attention away from the more extensive picture of complex, rippling drug effects, including “subsequent cascades of transient and long-lasting neurochemical changes involving other neurotransmitters.”

In the absence of more serious and systematic longer-term research, what can legitimately be said about a health intervention’s true, lasting effects? 

In my own view, the only honest answer is …. not much. 

We certainly cannot say a great deal about potential adverse effects that may show up over time. For instance, Dr. David Jacobs observed among his own research participants in a psychiatric trial that “it took time for patients to realize” that psychological side effects associated with medication had become problematic—specifically, more time than was allowed in “the six-week time frame of RCTs conducted for FDA approval.” In light of this kind of limitation, Dr. David Cohen and his team pointed out an alarming “inability of conventional clinical trials to provide a true picture of a drug’s … [full] effects.”

Despite all this, when Dr. Lacasse and I published our summary review on outcomes of child and adolescent treatment ten years ago, we were feeling optimistic, writing:   

Fortunately, there appears to be some progress in this area as well. Although the practical meaning of “long-term” research naturally varies across settings, there is a growing realization that for a youth treatment or intervention program to be called “effective,” it should be able to demonstrate those effects in more than the immediate beginning or ending of a formal intervention. 

Noting a groundswell of interest in long-term research, we cited recommendations at the time that researchers work harder to document any measurable shift observed over at least a 6-to 12-month period after a treatment as a basic standard to guide decisions. Since the misused antidepressant study mentioned earlier had prompted more accountability for drug companies to independently register clinical trials, we were also feeling encouraged that greater transparency might well occur across pharmaceutical studies as a whole. Maybe we were witnessing signs of fundamental improvements in the legitimacy and integrity of medical research? 

Not so fast.

Signals from recent opioid and suicide epidemics. Looking back, Americans in 2021 are well aware of at least two major signals that these institutional shifts towards greater transparency with pharmacological outcomes did not materialize as much as we had hoped. Amidst hundreds of thousands of deaths in the opioid epidemic, the country was forced to wake up to the extent to which similar kinds of selective reporting, overstating of positive possibilities, and de-emphasis of adverse effects were continuing to happen in pharmacological studies. A flurry of lawsuits (including from Utah counties) alleged that opioid manufacturers had “trivialized or obscured [opioids’] serious risks,” and convinced doctors and patients “that the compassionate treatment of pain required opioids.” 

Despite being aware of reasons for concern, it’s clear now that opioid manufacturers pursued an aggressive marketing campaign with claims that far outpaced what their own highly promoted data had confirmed. As a Utah County Commission resolution put it, despite “knowing of the serious risks and adverse outcomes related to the use of their opioids,” companies “nevertheless set out in the 1990s and 2000s to persuade providers, regulators, and patients that opioids are safe and effective.”

Just one month ago, it was announced that Johnson & Johnson and three large U.S. drug distributors would proceed with a proposed $26 billion settlement—on top of the 10 billion dollar settlement from Purdue Pharma—eclipsing the previous record of health care fraud.  

Rather than a sad anomaly, some of these same patterns have been evident elsewhere in healthcare too. In the wake of this heart-breaking opioid fallout, I joined a number of other colleagues in authoring an op-ed warning that “This same minimization of risks has been plainly documented in industry marketing for antidepressants”—pointing to some statistics that many believe illustrate consequences that rival the long-term consequences of opioid deception:  

Between the early 1990s and 2008, antidepressant use in teens and adults quadrupled— with rates climbing even further in the past 10 years. In this same period, numbers of suicide and chronic disability for mental illness reached record levels—with 600,000 youth and 4 million adults on disability for mental illness today (compared with 16,200 and 1.25 million in 1987).

Of course, there are many other factors that have influenced spiking suicide rates. But as journalist Bob Whitaker summarized in great depth, the long-term evidence across available psychiatric studies calls for greater scrutiny of concerning effects these medications may elicit at year 5 or 10 or 15 (far beyond what the FDA approved them for).  Indeed, compared with the widespread claims that antidepressants are “safe and effective,” every single one of the 22 studies documenting long-term effects of antidepressants that I’ve gathered suggests a far more complex picture—with those on antidepressants long-term statistically more likely to be depressed, in comparison to those who never went on.

This is not a need limited to mental health or pain management. Across health care as a whole, it remains a rarity to have sustained and rigorous examination of long-term outcomes.

Long-term trajectories of COVID-19 vaccination. I don’t pretend to be a vaccination expert—but I do believe these historic patterns in pharmacological research offer at least a few insights worth considering, especially as we contemplate offering these vaccinations to children on an emergency use basis. 

It’s fair to insist on a heightened level of scrutiny when children are involved, given their unique vulnerabilities. In the case of antidepressants, for instance, medications that are more tolerated for adults end up having counterintuitive effects on developing brains (with a doubling of suicidality documented among teens prescribed antidepressants, for example).

Vaccinations, of course, are unique from other medical interventions. And over the last year, COVID-19 vaccinations have been hailed as a modern-day miracle, with the initial differences in rates of infection between the unvaccinated and vaccinated have been dramatic. Soon after the second shot has been received by a plurality of people in a country, there is a period of time in which an almost miraculous reduction in sickness and death among the vaccinated is witnessed, when compared with the unvaccinated.

It’s understandable that the data from this initial period would receive such welcome attention.  

Yet if exclusive attention goes to that period of time—if most conclusions are based on it—we might be missing something important. Once again, until we follow the trajectory of outcomes beyond the initial weeks and months following any medical intervention, it’s hard to ascertain the full picture of what’s happening.  

As time has gone on, clearly shifts continue to occur in vaccine outcomes for adults. For instance, it’s clear the potency of some immune protection has declined markedly, as was anticipated to some degree. And related to this (and the emerging Delta variant), rates of infection have grown.  

Although there is no way to look into the future of the United States, the next best thing might be looking more closely at the experience of other countries that started their vaccination campaigns earlier than we did. The United Kingdom and Israel provide a helpful barometer since they were among the earliest who succeeded in vaccinating the largest percentage of their population. While those numbers won’t be reviewed here in detail, it’s worth noting that the initial happy period immediately after the second dosage has changed over time in measurable ways – with cases and deaths from COVID-19 growing again markedly. Updated figures in Germany, Scotland, and the United States are following suit.  

Why exactly this resurgence of cases is occurring, of course, is a question eliciting many different answers. In addition to the Delta variant and declining immunity, most explanations for these spikes focus on the impact of the remaining unvaccinated. In the spirit of exploring all possible factors, it’s important to also not overlook the possibility of what Dr. Susanne Hodgson and colleagues referred to last year as “vaccine-associated enhanced respiratory disease” (VAERD). As I wrote about last year for this magazine, a number of experts early on pointed to this as the single greatest long-term concern —and the question for which good data would be hard to come by until many months had passed. Essentially, this refers to the concern that in some cases, vaccinated individuals (who were less susceptible initially to the virus) may become more susceptible over the long term to the same virus.  Various other names that have been used for this phenomenon include “pathogenic priming,” “paradoxical immune enhancement” (PIE), and “antibody-dependent enhancement” (ADE). 

God forbid this is happening long-term following our ongoing vaccination efforts. But given the growing incidence of cases, we need to keep watching and stay attentive—especially in the wake of the international data above.  

It’s worth asking—if this problem was arising, would our current public discourse be able to detect it?  That’s difficult to imagine for some of us, given the widespread censorship of dissenting experts. 

At the very least, we might agree that compared to early figures demonstrating the strong initial protection provided by COVID-19 vaccination for many, the longer-term picture is much less clear. 

Long-term trajectories of COVID-19 for children. What does this mean for children? Has sufficient youth-specific evidence of safety and effectiveness emerged to feel confident in bringing these injections to younger children?

There seems to be little doubt among journalists and health authorities alike that the vaccinations will shortly be judged as sufficiently safe and effective for children. Just today, the White House has unveiled a plan to get vaccinations out to 5-11 year old’s. And as the Washington Post reported a week ago, the U.S. government has: “purchased enough doses to give two coronavirus shots to all 28 million eligible children, ages 5 to 11”:

Within days of regulators clearing the nation’s first coronavirus vaccine for younger children, federal officials say they will begin pushing out as many as 20 million doses of the Pfizer-BioNTech pediatric vaccine to immunize school-age kids across the United States … If regulators and the CDC give the go-ahead, the shots could start being administered almost immediately.

The same article notes that “many questions remain unanswered only weeks from the possible launch”—for instance: “How do you get clinicians to want to participate in the program? What will the role of pharmacists be? What will the role of schools be? How will we help parents get their questions answered quickly and by whom?”

Notice that one of the critical questions is not whether the vaccinations will be safe and effective for children. That, we have been assured by the companies, is largely answered. Based on this single self-reported trial, we are told the vaccination was “well-tolerated” and with “side effects … generally comparable to those of people between the ages of 16 and 25 years old who received the vaccine.”

I’ve searched for a more in-depth analysis of the results but can find no other information yet (beyond technical elements such as 2268 kids enrolled, with 2/3rds administered 10 μg (micrograms) of vaccine 21 days apart and 1/3rd receiving placebo, and with follow-up planned over the next two years). One thing seems clear—we have not had a whole lot of time elapse to know much about the long-term trajectory for any child taking the COVID-19 vaccine.  

Given the foregoing patterns, it seems fair to call for greater patience and deliberation about the questions involved—especially when considering vaccinating children, who have been historically far less prone to this virus. I also suspect that greater respect and consideration for those parents with questions would go a long way towards re-engaging the vaccine-hesitant in the thoughtful, good-faith conversation we need to have (together) about how best to move forward in navigating the continuing pandemic.

The post Long-term, Short-term appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

But what of the Latter-day Saints who—for whatever reason—see reason for serious concern with mainstream medicine and its approaches to health, generally? Or how about the many who have questioned the wisdom of prevailing public health policies in response to the pandemic?  And don’t forget those who have experienced trauma or hostility of any kind—tragically common in our darkening world—and who understandably bristle at any institution applying pressure as to what people should do with their body? For any of these Saints, their experience of hearing strong encouragement to be vaccinated from prophet leaders they love and trust has been uniquely challenging. In many cases, this has prompted an acute trial of faith—even, in some cases, the hardest of their lives. 

Over the last week, I’ve spoken to several of these brothers and sisters directly—neighbors, family members, and other associates. After feeling touched by these glimpses of their experiences, I knew I had to help others know what had happened to them. In a media environment where personal stories of tragedy are being used to stoke up frustration (on all sides of virtually every issue), I anticipate these accounts will have an opposite, softening effect.   

For those feeling frustrated and scared – whatever your perspective may be – I hope these stories might help you in some way.  Heaven knows all the hardness and animosity is taking its toll on all of us. Although the accounts have been edited somewhat from original interviews, they are largely presented verbatim—shared together as a progression of accounts in a way that highlights common themes … starting with the aching, honest struggle these people had with the counsel they had been given. 

How can this be asked of us? All the individuals interviewed held serious concerns about the vaccine from early on in the pandemic. Mandi said, “I consider myself pretty anti-vaccine in general. I’d had several friends who have been vaccine-injured, and I’d done lots of personal research.” Joycelyn said, “We haven’t got our kids vaccinated because our first son had an adverse reaction, and we didn’t feel they were right. We haven’t done it since.” Jen likewise said, “I’ve been wary about vaccines since before my children were born. I studied a lot about them. There’s never been a question about just going along with it.”

Even so, Joycelyn continued, “I’m very obedient. I want to follow the teachings exactly. When we were asked to wear masks, I did it, even though I experienced great inner turmoil in doing so (which she later realized was a PTSD reaction from earlier trauma). But I kept trying to wear the mask.” Consistently, “We prayed about the vaccine when people first talked about it,” Jocelyn said, “and every time it’s been ‘no.’ We felt like it wasn’t a good thing, and we shouldn’t get it. It was even a ‘no’ the first time the prophet showed his support and encouraged the Saints to get vaccinated.”

Compared to those with ready confidence in medicine and doctors, then, a unique spiritual struggle emerged for each of these brothers and sisters. Jen summarized well what many had felt: 

I’ve always been super conservative and all of my standards have mirrored the Church’s standards. I’ve never been on the other side of the prophet. When the prophet said “take out your double earrings” it was nothing to me. The whole back-and-forth over baptisms and LGBT+ couples, and medical marijuana, didn’t worry me. I understood the principle behind the policy. My entire life, I’ve never questioned or doubted. This is the first time where when the prophet spoke I was filled with dread as soon as he did.  

Despite all this, the repeated and urgent nature of the prophet’s counsel gave each one of them serious pause. And because of their love and trust in the prophet, and their desire to sustain him, their spiritual deliberations about the vaccine went deeper.   

Well, we better take this counsel more seriously. Mandi recounts grappling over the directness of the new statement from the First Presidency. “That gnawed at me for a few weeks and I realized I hadn’t gone to God to ask about the vaccine. I was a little afraid. What if he tells me to get it? I don’t want to get it. Over the course of a week, I prayed about it.” 

After seeing the prophet’s counsel reiterated in a subsequent letter and letting those negative initial thoughts pass, Joycelyn said, “I felt like I needed to give my body a chance to rest and then turn to the scriptures.” Compared with the previous conversations she had with her husband John, she remembered thinking, “This letter feels different, the word urge feels like a warning. Is the prophet trying to warn us of something that is coming?”

What was right for her family still didn’t seem clear to Joycelyn, however, and she felt prompted to talk to a neighbor in the ward, who didn’t pressure her but shared scriptures and quotes that helped her feel more grounded. Yet, even so, she said,  “When I prayed about the vaccine, I still felt like I wasn’t supposed to get it. I felt like I had a peace about not getting it.  But that peace was fleeting—leaving me always wondering if I was doing the right thing.”

Jocelyn continued, “As I was explaining to my neighbor about the peace I felt about not getting vaccinated, I had an experience where on the tip of my tongue as I was telling her, ‘I’m not supposed to get it,’ and in my heart, I knew those words weren’t true. There was dissonance in my heart.”

“At that point,” Joycelyn said, “I knew I had more work to do. I knew I needed to get more revelation from a humbler point of view. So the next day we got up and read our scriptures after asking for more guidance. We turned to Doctrine & Covenants 29, where it describes Christ as our advocate and how the elect will ‘hear my voice, and harden not their hearts.’” Then they read the verses where the Lord said, “by the power of my spirit, I created them—all things spiritually”:  

Wherefore, verily I say unto you that all things unto me are spiritual, and not at any time have I given unto you a law which was temporal … Behold, I gave unto him that he should be an agent unto himself; and I gave unto him commandment, but no temporal commandment gave I unto him, for my commandments are spiritual; they are not natural nor temporal, neither carnal nor sensual.

“That’s when I felt,” Jocelyn said, ‘The Lord wants you to do this, and it’s a spiritual thing, not a temporal thing.’” Her husband John added, “I received my answer at that point. The Spirit told me, ‘This is what you’re supposed to do. It’s a spiritual thing. Heavenly Father is asking you to do this, and you just need to obey.’”

Receiving an unexpected answer. After mentioning her shock at reading the prophet’s urging to get the vaccine, Jen continued, “I started to think about the Abrahamic test. I remember in a religion class at BYU one of my teachers said, ‘All of us will one day go through an Abrahamic test.’”

She reflected, “With Abraham, he heard a voice to sacrifice his son—his only son. I’ve lost a son. There is nothing worse than losing a child”—continuing: “I imagine that as Abraham walked up that mountain, he knew he was going to do it, but he was agonizing. That’s kind of where I was. … I had no idea why the prophet was asking me to get the vaccine, but I was sick about it.  And it felt like a life and death situation to me, too. Not the same as Abraham, but similar, and it went counter to everything I believe.”

Intrigued by this thought, Jen started reading articles on submission and yielding to the will of God, turning especially to talks by “her favorites,” Elder Holland and Elder Maxwell. In the wake of doing that, she recounts the following:

There was a day when I was standing at the kitchen sink just sick about the idea of getting vaccinated, and then it occurred to me that I could just do it. I had never gone there before and I completely calmed down. There was peace all the way through me and I thought, “I can do it.” 

The next day, however, Jen woke up “feeling sick again” and spent another tumultuous week grappling and fighting her doubts. After a teary phone call with her sister, who had faced similar grappling just weeks before, Jen got off the phone and said, “I’m just going to do it.”

“And I felt the peace again.” 

“As soon as I decided I was going to act on it,” Jen said, “I felt completely calm.” But not because she was convinced the vaccine would definitely help her body (and not hurt her). She and these other interviewees weren’t sure of that at all. In fact, each one of them held honest concerns that untoward effects might still take place.  

Describing her own prayers, Mandi described through tears a little of what was shared in her own heart-to-heart conversations, “You know, God, you have my heart. You have my will. I want to do what you want me to do. You know how I feel about vaccines, but I really want you to strip away my own prejudices and my own perceptions and ideas.”

She continued, “I really thought about that part from Moroni’s promise: ‘pray with real intent.’ What does it mean to pray with ‘real intent,’ versus ‘no intent?’ Intent means you intend to do what He instructs you to do, even if it’s hard.” 

“So, I just asked him, ‘Do you want me to get this vaccine? I know I have the choice—it’s my agency.  But is it right for me? Do you want me to get it? What is your will?’” 

“As I prayed more, I started to feel more peace. I got a yes that I should do it. I said, ‘Are you sure? Am I hearing that right, feeling that right?’ And I felt ‘yes’ again. It was a faint yes, which meant it just took so much faith to trust that small little yes. 

So, then I was like, “Did I hear that right … because I don’t want to get it.” There was so much prayer over the next few days.  The feeling I got was “yes, trust what you’re feeling.” Mandi added, “I have autoimmune conditions, so I was really worried about complications from the vaccine or reactions—and I talked to God about that too … and felt peace.”

Even if this hurts me, I’m going to do it. Although that peace provided reassurance, for most, once again, it did not mean they believed nothing bad could happen. Moving forward based on the tangible peace she had felt, Jocelyn described the courage it still took to show up at the vaccine clinic: “I was resolved my life could be different from here on out. I could have major health problems. I could die. But if that’s His will, that’s okay.” She added, “I have consecrated my life to Heavenly Father. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. If I die, if I get really sick, that’s His will—part of His plan. And I’m going to be okay with it. I had to get to that point to really mean it, to say it, to act on it.”

Her husband John acknowledged that while it seems a “simple thing to go get a shot,” it wasn’t so simple before that feeling of peace came—referring back to his recognition before getting the shot that “this could bring to pass all sorts of other rippling effects—hearts getting inflamed and swollen—as I’ve heard happening to younger people in their 20s and 30s.” 

Even though the peace she had felt initially continued, Jen said, “I cried on the way to the appointment. I wondered what could happen to my body.  What am I putting into my body?” 

Mandi said, “On the way to get it, I was singing ‘I Walk by Faith’ over and over. I feel like in a lot of things in my life I’ve had to offer my will, to sacrifice my will again and again—infertility, adoption, lots of things. This is about continually offering up my heart and will to God. That’s all I can give him.” Channeling Elder Maxwell, she said, “Everything else is already his, but that’s the one thing I can give him.”

Mandi continued, “The process of going to get the shot felt peaceful, too.” Joycelyn recounted the day of her own appointment, “It felt surreal going to get the vaccine—like I couldn’t believe it. But I knew we were supposed to do it. That doesn’t mean it will be easy. We’ve had to do hard things. But that’s an answer I can draw on. We said a prayer before we went in and I remember Heavenly Father giving me peace right before we went in.”

Jen admitted, “I was angry while I was there, but afterward I was fine.” John also said, “I was a little angry about it as I was getting it—not about the prophet, but more politically-oriented. I got it because I felt it was right, but I don’t think a government official should say ‘you have to do that.’ They don’t have the authority to do that. They’re going against what the constitution says. They’re taking away people’s agency. And no one is standing up for our rights or the rights of our children.” 

[All got Pfizer, although one would have preferred Johnson & Johnson if he could have found it. One admitted avoiding Moderna due to anti-Fauci sentiment. One said, “Hey, I’ve heard bad things about all of them, so I guess it doesn’t matter!” One had few if any effects. Several had “super sore” arms. One had chills the next morning after the second, and another had a migraine and was pretty sick the whole day. One was scheduled for the second later this week. One sister had heart palpitations—her heart was beating hard—but she wasn’t sure whether that was related to a thyroid problem or to the shot]. 

Changes inside.  All of them spoke about this being a “strengthening” experience for their faith. Joycelyn reflected how different it feels to talk about sacrificing and say, “I’ll do whatever the Lord asks,” and then to “actually do it—to actually go through the process of submitting myself to something that goes against everything I believe.”  

She said, “It really strengthened me. I’m not just talking the talk, I’m walking the walk. It was important for me to go through.”  Mandi spoke of another type of peace that had come to her:

All the mandates feel really scary and oppressive. But when you choose to get the vaccine, it totally shifts the energy because you’ve chosen to do something, and you’re not forced. So it’s not so scary. It takes away the fear of the unknown—all the stuff about “what are they going to do to us? what’s going to happen?” All that fear has been totally washed away. Fear of losing jobs, not being able to fly again—that was an unexpected burden lifted.

“Sure, who wouldn’t be relieved not to face the growing hostility towards the unvaccinated,” some might add, but the peace these Saints felt went beyond just a reduction in external tension. Other, deeper shifts were also clear. Jen said, “I do feel better. I’m no longer agitated in my mind.” After making her decision, Joycelyn said, “I felt layers upon layers of hardness on my heart peel off. I could just feel it come off my heart. I didn’t even know that hardness had been there.” 

Compared to her earlier fleeting peace, Joycelyn added, “When we got this peace, we got this peace that was constant. It didn’t go away. And we still have it.” She reflected further, “I felt like for quite a while I’d been hitting a wall spiritually and I didn’t know why. I felt like this was Heavenly Father trying to get me to a better place.”

What about others who haven’t received this peace? Does that mean everyone unable to feel peace about being vaccinated for COVID-19 simply hasn’t humbled themselves enough or exercised enough faith? “Not at all,” Joycelyn said, cautioning against that conclusion. 

“Everyone could get a different answer for a different reason,” she said, pointing out that “someone might have an adverse reaction and be warned not to.” Jocelyn recounted, “I shared my experience with my sister and she told me she could feel the spirit quite strongly as she listened. She has done the same seeking for herself, but she really feels like she is not supposed to get it. She’s had all sorts of health problems—autoimmune disorders …”

Many others, of course, have reported similar experiences. One brother wrote online, “I have prayed, fasted, cried, prayed, fasted, cried multiple times and I still don’t feel at peace about getting the vaccine.” After acknowledging the many who have felt able to feel comfortable about getting the vaccine after hearing the prophet’s counsel, this man added “and I’m over here like, ‘Heavenly Father, I’ve tried my hardest to humble myself, I’ve tried my hardest to get an answer why would you be telling all of these other people to get it and not be telling me?’”

Another person shared the following story about her faithful mother:

When the prophet urged us to get vaccinated,  my mother, age 79, fasted and prayed about it.  She was told “No.” As COVID continued to rise,  I urged her to get the vaccine.  My sisters urged her, too. Again, she fasted and prayed and the answer she felt remained the same. A couple of months went by and again we urged our mom to get vaccinated. She fasted and prayed for the third time. Her answer was again no.  Six months later my mother contacted COVID-19.  After 10 days she contracted pneumonia. Just before her pneumonia diagnosis,  she and I spoke on the phone.  She cried,  she wondered why Heavenly Father would tell her no three times. She was very sick.  At that moment, I knew the answer—telling my mother that Heavenly Father knew about her health.  She needed to have a heart valve replacement, which had only recently been diagnosed.  I suggested to her that Heavenly Father knew that a small percentage of people developed blood clots from the vaccine and also COVID.  He protected her from the possibility of getting a blood clot and taking her life too soon. It has been two weeks and my mother is nearly healed. She is rebounding fully and quickly. 

This person continued:

I told my mother on her worst day, “thank you for being obedient to our Heavenly Father.”  At that moment my mother finally felt relieved. My family members have put a lot of pressure on our mom to get vaccinated.  Even while she was sick,  one person asked why she wasn’t following the prophet. Then my mom, being weak, felt that she was being beaten up by family members because they were chastising her for not getting vaccinated. 

Even with their own surprising experiences, these brothers and sisters were insistent that others could feel different promptings and assurance, and they advocated for showing respect to what God was leading each person to do. After speaking about the power and importance of getting her own personal confirmation, Joycelyn said, “I’m pretty sure President Nelson wouldn’t say, ‘Just take my word for it.’” 

One man who felt peace about getting the vaccine described the response from his wife who had not felt that same confirmation: “I respect that you’re doing what you feel guided to do.” He likewise told her, “You have sought out and got a different answer, and I respect that.”  This brother added:

It’s an individual decision. I disagree with those who say, “The prophet has told you to get vaccinated, so what’s your problem?” The prophet recommended—strongly encouraged. It remains an individual’s right to receive personal inspiration on what to do. The prophet would never force. He’s not Biden. 

Another kind of test. For those who find prophetic counsel about the vaccine easy to follow, there clearly seems to be another kind of spiritual test emerging in their own life….centered around how to respond to those who don’t share either their ease or their answer.  Given the ease with which they align with medical and public health orthodoxy, these people might feel sorely tempted to condemn any such resistance as a simple reflection of “faithlessness” or “ignorance.” Can’t you just trust “the science”?  Can’t you just trust the prophet? 

Without appreciating how acute of a wrestle it is for many people to trust mainstream pronouncements being made about the pandemic, they might miss the authenticity of faith- exercising and truth-seeking happening—as well as the spiritual trial this remains for so many.  

Speaking about her unvaccinated relatives, Jen admits, “They are hurting. They don’t want to be on the wrong side, they don’t want to be deceived, they don’t want to just be following their own wisdom, but it all feels so wrong to them.”

So, how are family members and leaders to respond to this? Two very different models are clear.  On one hand, a sister related, “Our stake president used the analogy of the serpent on the pole in our ward conference this last Sunday. I believe the majority of the congregation is vaxxed so he is pretty much calling out maybe two families … mine as one.” Through this pointed metaphor, she took away that this leader was telling us that “basically we do it or be destroyed. That we ‘lack faith and doubt science.’”

So, which will it be?  Double down on the pressure—or affirm trust in people’s capacity to receive personal confirmation from God in relation to the prophetic direction?  It’s hard to do both, since the pressure often interferes with that sacred space of receiving direction.  

Pressure as a complicating factor.  That was another interview theme that came up. Clearly, it was receiving individual peace that motivated each of these people above—not the pressure.  In fact, it was very much despite the pressure that these brothers and sisters moved forward, often referring to family and social pressure as a complicating factor in their earlier searching.  John reflected on the earlier period, “We were getting pressured into it by community members, our parents, brothers and sisters, other people, and we wanted to say, ‘Hey, we prayed about it, so just let it be.” He remarked, “I’m not going to be the one to tell someone they have to do something. If someone’s made a choice about what’s right for their family, we just need to honor that and let it be.”

“Since the vaccine came out,” John added, “my mom was pressuring me and other members of my family to get the vaccine—even using stories of other people dying to help convince him (“See, he’s dying. Your kids are going to be alone. He didn’t get vaccinated.”) He added, “My mom hasn’t been active in the Church for a while, but as soon as the prophet’s statement came out, she threw that in everyone’s face.” 

With a smile on his face, John continued, “We haven’t even told her we got the vaccine. I don’t think we will.” 

Both Jen and Mandi mentioned that this experience had given them more empathy for others who have grappled with prophetic counsel. Jen stated, “This has been a trial for the members who are like me—conservative and more into holistic medical treatments. It makes me respect any liberal thinker who’s still a faithful Latter-day Saint. They’re on the other side often (philosophically) and they’re still here. Bless them!” Mandi likewise said, “This whole experience has given me a lot of compassion for people who have struggled with LGBT+ stuff. The Church will make a statement; they won’t understand it and will feel at odds. I’ve always had no problems with the prophet, and when that message came out it was challenging to be the one feeling that. Having to humble myself and submit myself and try to follow the prophet in a way I had not expected has given me a lot of compassion for others wrestling with other concerns and issues.”

An act of brute faith. What was most remarkable to me about these stories is that every one of these brothers and sisters had strong concerns with the vaccine, and none of them were all that worried about the virus. Consistently, their decision to move forward with the vaccination was really not due to any kind of assurance that it would help their bodies—nor, even that it was “safe and effective” against the virus. Listen to their responses on that point:  

• “I didn’t feel my body needs this vaccine to fight COVID-19—it has nothing to do with the virus for me. It’s more about my relationship with God—and some other kind of a spiritual protection.” (Mandi)
• “I’m far more afraid of the vaccine than the virus. I’m just going to trust the Lord. The most important thing is knowing I’m on the right side of Him. I know I will be blessed for it.” (Jen) 
• “I have no fear of the virus, I’ve already had it. There will always be another variant. It’s just going to keep coming. I only got the shot because I felt prompted to do it after the prophet said it. If I prayed and got the opposite answer, I would have stuck with it and gone with it. I don’t care if someone tells me my prayers are wrong.” (John)
• “For me, getting the shot was all about submission. I’m not worried about the virus. I’ve already had the Delta variant. I don’t think Heavenly Father wants me to get the shot because my body needs it….Heavenly Father has a purpose. I don’t know what it is, aside from softening my heart.” (Joycelyn)

Joycelyn reiterated, “If the prophet had not urged so strongly, we would not have gotten it.” John added, “But we prayed about it, got our answer, and followed through with it.”  

Jen likewise punctuated her comment, by saying: “If I wasn’t a member of the Church, I would lose my job [instead of getting vaccinated], I wouldn’t travel anymore, I would fight the regulations, because this goes against everything I believe. No one has the authority to tell me what to put inside my own body. I’ve always been civilly disobedient. If it’s wrong, I will always fight. But I can’t do that when it’s the prophet. It becomes a completely different thing. My perspective is not as clear or eternal as his.”

There was some speculation in the interviews as to other reasons the vaccine may be important, beyond the physical effects touted. For instance, Jen continued, “The prophet is the watchman on the tower. He sees more. He knows more. I’m just skirmishing on the ground. Maybe that’s why he offered this urging—whether that’s virus-related or persecution-related—he can see. I wonder if the Saints who don’t do it are going to go through a much harder time somehow socially.” Joycelyn added, “He might be asking because of the political war on it. Not because of snuffing out the virus.” Mandi said, “I felt like this was more about protecting myself from the persecution that will come if you’re not vaccinated, rather than protecting me from the virus.”

None of these other explanations, however, were the reason these women had been vaccinated. That was clear. That stemmed entirely from the peace they felt in prayer, which leads to one final point.

Here’s the problem with that:  In the absence of peace—an uncoerced affirmation from one’s own conscience—we could end up making life a lot more complicated for precious brothers and sisters…in at least two ways, both of which think we should see as serious:  

1. Inadvertent physical consequences. I believe there are some who may experience adverse effects if they override or ignore their own internal compass—internal signals telling them (for whatever reason) that the vaccine isn’t a good decision for their body. We often hear that these adverse effects are minuscule and difficult to connect to the vaccine, and yet there is growing evidence confirming that the scope of adverse effects is not made-up paranoia. This includes different vaccine injuries, and sometimes tragically, a direct loss of life. That’s where the protection of the Holy Spirit in giving individualized direction is so crucial.   
2. The possibility of anger and estrangement. In cases where people take the vaccine just because they felt the prophet’s words required it (no matter how they felt inside), this kind of a serious adverse effect may be especially hard to process. Compared to those who felt God’s confirming assurance in their own hearts, these people are more likely to feel significant frustration towards those who strongly encouraged this course of action. One woman who experienced MS symptoms (shaking, spasms) following the vaccination, for instance, voiced frustration because she had proceeded thinking the prophet had “commanded” it.  

The point here is not to overstate these risks—but moreso, to note that each of these might be avoided through appreciating the centrality of (and not sidelining through over-pressure and fear) the individualized guidance of the Holy Ghost—a magnificent being who both reassures and protects.  If someone who is hesitant ends up getting the vaccine simply out of pressure, you also potentially rob them of the rich inner experience many of these people above describe. Had that been the reason these people above decided to get vaccinated, it’s not hard to imagine they would have ended up even more mad…with none of the peace and growth they otherwise could have found.   

There is no guarantee, of course, that people who felt peaceful and good about the vaccine won’t experience some negative effects as well. And whatever rippling effects do come (including those described above), are all workable through the comfort and power of the Lord. But there’s no question that people will feel more of a spiritual foundation for weathering these difficulties if and when they do come, if they proceed based on (a) authentic choice and (b) personal assurance from God, in relation to personal application of prophetic counsel. 

Bottom line: don’t push so hard that you invade the sacred space where we all each get to work out our own salvation and follow the dictates of our own conscience.    

Peace, peace, peace. “Follow the peace” the Buddha once taught. To those who would judge the peace these brothers and sisters felt as simply a reflection of being relieved not to face societal pressure, I would push back strongly. The peace these people have found is real—and cannot be written off.  It permeated the interviews—and my time in their presence.  

I take that peace as a reflection of their consecration, faith, and alignment with God’s will. As Jocelyn noted earlier, this wasn’t just a physical thing.  It wasn’t just about getting the vaccine, or even simply about following the prophet. After praying with humility and sincerity over that counsel, this was also about coming into alignment with what God specifically confirmed as His will in each of their lives.  

What if that individual intuition, personal conscience, and inner wisdom were allowed to be the foundation of our public deliberation about our ongoing pandemic response? What if we could appreciate the profound opportunities for spiritual growth happening inside each of us—and for people on both sides of this question? 

We’ve microscoped in on the trial of faith for those who feel prompted to take the vaccine, contrary to their biases and prejudices. What about the trial of faith for someone—like the grandmother above—who seeks the Lord’s will with sincere faith, but is led not to take the vaccine? By many measures, that trial of faith may be even greater than the experiences described above.  

Therefore, you might ask yourself as a little test:  Do you have faith to take the vaccine, even if your bias is against it, if the Spirit gives you peace to proceed?  And do you have faith to not take the vaccine if you feel so guided by the same Spirit, even if you are going to get some push-back from those around you? 

As a final note, if you find yourself fixated on this issue and grappling in your heart with frustration towards brothers and sisters, or even the prophets themselves, please take a moment to remember the full range of things Latter-day prophets have been sharing with the world  (here’s one summary we put together, Prophets on Pandemic). It’s beautiful—and I’m confident, the most hopeful message anywhere in the world. Don’t let that gloominess or hardness ruin this upcoming conference weekend! Heaven (literally) knows we all need some uplift and rejuvenation!  So, please don’t let yourself go into the weekend looking for more reasons to be frustrated. God wants more for you, and all of us. 

In the end, let’s treat each other like the children of God we all are:  Seeing our brother who follows their conscience not to vaccinate…well, like a brother.  And regarding our sister who feels peace to take the vaccine also…like a sister. Whatever our differences about public health policy or appropriate pandemic response—and whatever our lingering fears and frustrations—may we reach across to each other as the human family we surely still are … yes, even during a pandemic.

The post COVID-19 Vaccination as an Abrahamic Test appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Even compared with the widening divisions over race, sexuality, religion, and politics, vaccination is an issue with unique intensity, perhaps due to the life and death nature of it all, as we wrote about previously. Amidst the hostility and fear it can be hard to tell what other people even believe—making it difficult to navigate the confusion.  

Time to find a map?  As we have done in the past with larger pandemic disagreements and disputes over the presidential election, the aim of the map below of the vaccine mandate conversation is not to lay out the evidence supporting different positions—but instead, to simply sketch out as best we can what the key questions are—and the competing positions people are taking.  In this, we are attempting what Charles Taylor once called a “perspicuous (clear) contrast.”

In making this attempt, it may be tempting to see these competing views as bifurcated “black and white” contrasts – with no possibility of a middle ground.  That’s not our belief, nor our intent.  Instead, our experience has been that seeing a clear juxtaposition of views allows people to feel out where they stand, and to explore more nuanced views—e.g., “Yes, that’s sort of what I think…but not quite.”

Even so, we’ve found these maps to be remarkably irritating to some people on both sides—with accusations for daring to give a platform to dangerous, and reckless accusations.  

So, to be clear: our goal here is not to suggest that it doesn’t matter which side you believe, or to argue there is no substantial evidence to validate one side or the other, or even to suggest that both sides are equally valid or supported. Rather, we’re just doing our best to capture in summary form the contours of contrasting beliefs that currently exist on the question of vaccine mandates.  

In these heated times, once again, it’s remarkable how much people (on all sides) struggle to understand distinctly and fairly what political opponents actually believe. (So much easier to hear what your favorite critic of Those People tells you they really believe). We’ve been listening carefully to the different arguments being made and doing our best to hear the nuances.  So without further ado, with an aim of encouraging deeper listening (even and especially now) between Americans who disagree deeply on this question—and with an unabashed hope of helping to neutralize additional aggression and hostility—we provide this juxtaposition of views, created by our own staff (that doesn’t entirely agree on these mandates).

1. Wisdom. Are considerations of these widening mandates sensible and reasonable at this point in the pandemic? 

• Yes, they are. Our leaders are doing anything they can to help the pandemic abate. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and despite their disadvantages, a more forceful response like this seems wise. 
• No, they are not. Even after all the other restrictions, and the long persuasion and pressure—now comes the coercion. For an American public already on edge—and already divided—this is the last thing we need.

2. Common and normative. Should these mandates be considered normal in the context of history—or abnormal? 

• Quite normal. Just like we need to wear seatbelts (with consequences for those who don’t), just like other vaccinations are required for school, just like people can’t drink and drive, it is reasonable and normal to make requirements of individuals for the greater good. 
• So not normal. To force people who feel uncomfortable about an intrusive medical intervention to have to go through with it is far removed from seatbelts and road signs. It’s hard to understand why people would insist this is so normative.

3. The constitutionality of mandates. Are the steps being taken by the Biden administration legal under the constitution? 

• Yes, they are. As head of the executive branch, the President leads OSHA, which protects workplace safety. Vaccine requirements for businesses fall under the authority of OSHA, and thus the President.
• No, they are not. The Constitution on its face does not give the President authority to mandate vaccination. If the law authorizing OSHA is claimed to give him this authority, that law should be challenged on a constitutional basis.  

4. The medical rationale for mandates.  Is it not clear that the unvaccinated are driving the increasing rate of COVID-19 cases? 

• Yes, it is. Given the increased infection rate among the unvaccinated, that conclusion is simple and clear. Although vaccinated people can still get infected, the severity and frequency are far less. 
• No, it is not. To blame the increased rates solely on the unvaccinated overlooks the full complexity of what’s happening—scapegoating an entire subset of Americans without sufficient consideration of other influences on infection rates. 

5. Discrimination and mandates. Are there any social ramifications for such mandates that should give us pause? 

• Sure, we need to consider ways to soften the impact. But if the consequences of their inaction negatively affect others, then that’s not just on them. Not only are the immunocompromised already being forced out of jobs and commerce because of refusals to vaccinate, but all Americans are being negatively affected. Better to just limit the negative effects to those who don’t choose the vaccine. 
• There are deeply troubling ramifications for moving down this path, creating essentially a two-tiered system, with a clear second class.  Medical segregation and discrimination are not too strong of terms.

6. The effectiveness of vaccine mandates. Will there be any positive effects of vaccine mandates on the pandemic overall, and are those effects worth enacting these policies?

• Yes, to the degree that the unvaccinated have not prioritized the time to find and get a vaccine, vaccine mandates will change this. Vaccine mandates will also help the immunocompromised by limiting interactions with the unvaccinated.
• No, most of those opting out of the vaccine at this point have had enough time to seriously consider the option. While some will yield to the pressure, for many others the restrictive policies will only exacerbate feelings of anger, despair and fear—while isolating those individuals further and worsening an already polarized American public.  

7. The ethics of vaccine mandates. Is mandating the vaccine a clear moral good, and therefore, ethically justified ? 

• Yes, protecting the most vulnerable is among our chief moral duties. Vaccine mandates are widely believed to effectively protect the most vulnerable. That makes them deeply moral.
• No,  coercion is a problematic area for morality. No matter how you feel about the vaccine, forcing others to get it—even contrary to their own individual sense of what is best—should give any of us moral pause.

8. The rights of the immunocompromised. To what degree should the rights of the immunocompromised be prioritized? 

• The immunocompromised have lost jobs and been pushed out of public places by the COVID-19 pandemic. Now that what appears to be a solution is available, they should not have to bear the consequences of those who dissent to avail themselves of it.  
• The immunocompromised suffer from a sad illness. We should do our best to help them. But we’ve never before stripped rights from the healthy in order to accommodate the sick. It’s a slippery slope and we shouldn’t start now.

9. Mandates from a faith perspective. Should religious believers have any greater hesitance in supporting these kinds of widespread mandates?

• Not really. No major religion has voiced objections to the vaccine—and since faith is all about the greater good, it shouldn’t surprise us to see people of faith willing, and even eager to support such requirements. Latter-day Saint may even feel more comfortable because of direction from senior leadership.  
• Yes, they should. The sacredness of human agency and respect for conscience is—or ought to be—especially valued by people of faith. Compared to secular observers, anything that coerces conscience should raise red flags for people of faith especially.  

10. Religious/philosophical exemptions. Should exemptions be allowed to such mandates?  If so, how many? And how commonly?  

• Not many.  No major religion has come out against COVID vaccination, and this becomes too easily a loophole for people to get around the requirements. And that could endanger the entire vaccination effort.  
• Yes, they should be allowed—for anyone with a conscientious objection, whether or not their priest or religious leader is in agreement. Agreeing to respect someone’s exercise of conscience should not be controversial.

The post Mapping Public Disagreements about Vaccine Mandates appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

In the fall of 2003, my father wrote me a letter shortly after I had embarked on a two-year church mission to eastern Ukraine. “I’ve got to get used to the fact that you won’t be the same guy when you return,” he wrote. 

Now, of course, I was, in a purely metaphysical sense, still me when I came home. But my father understood something more of life. He knew that my experiences in Ukraine—learning Russian, navigating a post-Soviet culture, having vanilla Coke sprayed on me by a group of unruly youths critical of America—were designed to transform me at the soul level. Missionaries are sent forth to serve—and, in the process, to become something different, something better.

Ten years later, I was in a room with hundreds of fellow employees of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when Elder David A. Bednar said this: “Everything about the gospel of [Jesus] Christ is about not staying the same. … You can’t insist on doing things the way you’ve always done them and expect to progress.”

These thoughts are apropos as we emerge from a 16-month journey into what we hope are the sunlit uplands of a world full of faces, handshakes, and hugs.

Elder Bednar’s words get at the radical beating heart of what it is to be a follower of a man considered by many of His time to be a nefarious nobody from Nazareth. Reading Jesus’ words and walking in His ways often place us at the edge of understanding, pushing us into dark, unknown alleyways and frontiers bursting with hidden treasures of insight. 

All that tends to turn our lives upside down—and not by accident.  By design.

The Jesus of the New Testament and the Book of Mormon is obsessed with humanity’s progress—a passage, like birth, impossible to bring about without profound pressure on all sides. Really, it’s a rebirth, a series of rebirths. And rebirth always involves some kind of death—whether of will, desire, or habit.

Consider a story from the gospel of John in the New Testament. We sometimes laugh at the naivete of Nicodemus, that first-century Pharisee who approaches Jesus by cover of night (best to not be seen keeping such company). He tells Him how great a teacher He is. “No one could do all the God-pointing, God-revealing acts you do if God weren’t in on it,” he says in Eugene Peterson’s Bible paraphrase.

“You’re absolutely right,” Jesus responds. “Take it from me: Unless a person is born from above, it’s not possible to see what I’m pointing to—to God’s kingdom.”

Confused, Nicodemus asks, “How can anyone be born who has already been born and grown up? You can’t re-enter your mother’s womb and be born again. What are you saying with this ‘born-from-above’ talk?”

“You’re not listening,” Jesus says. “Let me say it again. Unless a person submits to this original creation—the ‘wind-hovering-over-the-water’ creation, the invisible moving the visible, a baptism into a new life—it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. When you look at a baby, it’s just that: a body you can look at and touch. But the person who takes shape within is formed by something you can’t see and touch—the Spirit—and becomes a living spirit. So don’t be so surprised when I tell you that you have to be ‘born from above’—out of this world, so to speak. You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next. That’s the way it is with everyone ‘born from above’ by the wind of God, the Spirit of God.”

We shouldn’t fault Nicodemus for his obtuseness. If he is me, as should be the case when I study any scripture story, then I want to give myself mountains of mercy. Like an infant learning to walk, we stumble as our minds digest new concepts.

Not long after this exchange with Nicodemus, Jesus endured a painful and unfair death. His desires and His life expired to bring about His resurrection. His is the Rebirth of rebirths, the only bridge spanning the chasm of death and the only eternally reliable foundation of hope and redemption.

The rebirth motif continues in the Book of Mormon. Here we see the newly resurrected Jesus visiting a people on the other side of the planet. In a city called Bountiful, Jesus appears in the flesh to a shaken, humbled society. They are tasting a cold and bitter variety of rebirth as they emerge from three days of terrifying earthquakes, storms, fires, floods, darkness, and the heartrending death of loved ones.

Jesus’s message centers on a rebirth rooted in Him.

“I am the light and the life of the world,” He says. “Arise and come forth unto me, that ye may thrust your hands into my side, and also that ye may feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet, that ye may know that I am the God of Israel, and the God of the whole earth, and have been slain for the sins of the world.”

His resurrected body is the symbol of good things to come. His body is the sign that rebirth is the intended destiny of every man, woman, and child on this Earth.

Similar to my father’s letter mentioned above, our Heavenly Father knows we won’t be the same people when we return to Him. Like a Russian nesting doll, life is a large journey comprising many smaller life-changing journeys within it. The COVID-19 pandemic is one of those. Our God is trusting us to wrestle with it and learn from it. If we exit this once-in-a-century experience without building sturdier souls and healthier societies, then perhaps we are more dead, in a spiritual and intellectual sense, than those many loved ones of blessed memory whom the virus sent to the grave.

Let’s not disappoint Him.

The post Recognizing Our Need for Rebirth appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

For the religious person, public acts of devotion such as going to Church, Mass, Mosque, or Synagogue, ended abruptly (or at least were radically transformed). Life was dramatically upended for so many: children not going to school, loss of employment, social ties being cut. When that happened, did individuals increase their private devotion to make up for the lost public devotion? Or, did their private devotion wane without the supporting structure of public devotion? Or, did their private devotion carry on as normal? What about family religious activities such as family prayer and scripture study? In their faith, did families step up or take a step back?

The Family Foundation of Youth Development project just happened to be collecting its fourth year of data during Summer 2020. We have been tracking teens and their parents since 2016 to examine how youth develop across time with a special emphasis on faith, particularly for Latter-day Saints. In 2020, we surveyed a random sample of over 1,700 youth and one of their parents, approximately half of them being Latter-day Saints (see foundations.byu.edu for the study’s methodology). 

In Summer 2020, we asked youth and parents if COVID-19 had affected their private and family religious practices, and, if so, how. Overall, 20% of youth and 30% of parents increased their private religiosity. For family religious practices, 34% of youth and 25% of parents say they increased. Overall, individuals and families roughly split somewhat evenly across increasing, decreasing, or staying the same in these practices. When it comes to personal and family religiosity, it’s clear not everyone reacted in the same way.

What is interesting is when these numbers are broken out by religion. For Latter-day Saints, 31% of youth and 45% of adults increased their personal religious practices. These numbers are nearly three times higher than for non-Latter-day Saints, of whom 11% of youth and 16% of parents increased their personal religious practices. Even more dramatically, in Latter-day Saint families, 63% of parents reported an increase in family religious practices while only 13% of non-Latter-day Saints indicated an increase in family religious practices.

Although we cannot fully determine the reason for these differences, the somewhat unique characteristics (both recent and longstanding characteristics) of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints may be a partial explanation.

A relevant characteristic is, of course, the Latter-day Saint instruction that religiosity should be “Home Centered, Church Supported.” When religious devotion is focused within the walls of the home rather than the Church, religiosity is more likely to permeate the multiple aspects of home life: leisure, (home)work, family life, friends, etc.  That the Church of Jesus Christ recently provided each member with a home study curriculum in Come, Follow Me, provided a framework for personal devotion with the home.

One long-standing aspect of the faith likely facilitating the increase in family religious devotion (particularly when compared to other religious groups) is a priesthood of all worthy males. In many Christian denominations, the right to administer the sacrament (referred to in other religions as the Eucharist or Communion) is held by only a few members of the congregation.

Within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that authority is spread throughout the congregation, with many having in their own homes an individual with that authority. Further, each home has two individuals with that authority assigned to them to care for them and (most likely) able to provide the sacrament. We chuckle on occasion as we call a young, 15-year-old boy a “priest.” Yet the gravity of that has dawned on many families over the last year.

The lockdowns seemed to show the substantial benefit of such a system. This has been a time of fragile personal connections, challenging social and emotional wellbeing worldwide. But connecting as families around the fundamentals of religion (loving God and loving others) provides us with opportunities to do the hard work with the raw materials of family life.

Of course, family religious practices may help us come closer, and sometimes the opposite is true. But despite the challenges in implementation, family religious practices can afford parents at minimum, a good opportunity to pass along ideas that bring happiness to generations in the faith.

The post How the Pandemic Impacted Faith appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Ignorant. Selfish. Deceitful. Willfully destructive.  

These are descriptors you’d virtually never hear applied to most any other subgroup in America (except, perhaps, Trump supporters or Republicans). To call an ethnic or sexual minority names like this would lead you to immediate termination of employment.  To apply them to religious minorities or atheists, or even to former felons or sex offenders would be seen, at the very least, as deeply insensitive. 

But in America today, for perhaps some understandable reasons, these kinds of incendiary descriptors are allowable for a sizable subgroup in America not yet on board with orthodox medical views, even in the nation’s most celebrated news outlets.

Anyone who refuses to get vaccinated, outside of actual medical reasons anyways, are idiots. Mostly caused by the ego of an idiot. There is no excuse. They should not be allowed to possibly infect anyone else. Sorry, I have zero compassion for these people.

In a more positive spirit, one person shared their encouragement to “get the vaccine for the well-being of society and the common good” before adding “be a good citizen and decent human being.” 

Notice that it’s not possible, in any of these views, to disagree with current COVID-19 vaccination protocols reasonably. 

One woman declared, “I don’t care what happens to Republicans who don’t get vaccinated. Yes, that is a callous thing to say, but it’s true.” Another added, “Republican men and Evangelicals are the most vaccine-resistant.  I would not be pained if there were fewer of them in the world.” Others took it even further: 

• “In a perfect world, this virus would only kill Trump supporters.”
• “You want a choice? Okay, here’s your choice:  vaccine or lethal injection.”  

Of course, real violence against holdouts is hyperbole largely reflecting people’s frustration. Something else, though, is not hyperbole. As one person summarized it, “there need to be consequences for these hold-outs.” 

Given the widespread conviction that the solution to a pandemic is for enough people to accept vaccination (aka, “herd immunity”), it’s perhaps understandable to see the desperation to persuade enough Americans to get the vaccine. As one person said: 

They hold the entire nation hostage—by willfully serving as a reservoir for the virus. Allowing it to not only survive but to mutate into a more deadly form—maybe into a form that is immune to the vaccine. Who pays for the cost of repeated shutdowns of businesses?  Who pays for expensive medical care of idiots who contract the virus while claiming it doesn’t exist?

That epitomizes well the medical philosophy that a majority of Americans now embrace—and from which detractors naturally are seen as a serious threat. As one person summarized the sentiment, these people are “why we still have a pandemic.” 

If that’s what you believe, then perhaps this level of frustration is understandable—as reflected in some especially vivid comparisons (emphasis my own).  As several people argued:  

• “Unvaccinated people provide a reservoir in which the Covid virus can survive and continue to mutate into a more deadly form resistant to vaccines. In that regard, they are the equivalent of biological warfare factories aimed at Americans.”
• “We destroyed Iraq and lost 4500 soldiers on the mere rumor Saddam Hussein was developing biological warfare agents—here we have millions of morons deliberately serving as hosts—a reservoir/factory for a virus that has already killed over 570,000 Americans.”
• “The anti-vaxxers are deliberately helping this pandemic continue even though 571,200 Americans have already died from it. How is that different from mass murder?”   
  

One person went so far as comparing the unvaccinated to “sociopaths.”

Jennifer Rubin herself stated, “There is no right to remain a breeding ground for dangerous coronavirus variants” and argued against any accommodations for “those bent on being a danger to themselves and others. We have all sacrificed too much for too long to indulge reckless conduct.”

On that basis, Rubin went on to suggest that these “ornery holdouts won’t be mandated by the government to get shots, but they should not be able to enjoy the benefits, privileges, and access that responsible Americans have earned by getting vaccinated.” 

A small handful of people objected, with one saying, “sure go ahead and call people who don’t think just like you sociopaths.” Another person chimed in, “we don’t live in a totalitarian state.” 

Yet most people seemed to agree with Rubin’s line of thinking. One person said, “Lock them out!” Another man insisted, “at some point soon, those that refuse to participate in public health measures, such as vaccinations, masking, physical distancing, etc., should be held liable for their irresponsible behavior … possibly financial & legal liability for willful negligence for infecting others in the community.” Still others wrote:

“These are the same people who wanted everyone over 65 to ‘just stay home’ for a whole year so they wouldn’t be inconvenienced by face masks. Now it’s THEIR TURN to stay home. No vaccine, no admission.”

• “Public Health’s strong quarantine powers should be used to put unvaccinated people under house arrest because they are a severe threat to the nation—including to vaccinated people. They are a reservoir for the virus which will allows it to mutate and continually evolve into a more deadly form—a form that may overcome the protective effects of the vaccine.”   
• “People who are not vaccinated should be treated as outcasts and lepers.  They should not be given privileges to attend ballgames, go to concerts or Disneyland, etc.  They should be banned from workplaces.”

Banned from workplaces.  House arrest. Refused services. Stay home.  

To those who are deeply concerned about the broader health impact of unvaccinated Americans, these may seem reasonable policy measures. And certainly, all Americans ought to feel free to advocate for whatever policy measures seem necessary and justified.  

My purpose here is not to try and resolve these complex policy matters; navigating them well will take remarkable grace and wisdom—and we should pray for our elected officials.  I simply draw attention here to the spectrum of rhetoric we are seeing, and how (perhaps unnecessarily) threatening some of this will and does feel to a large subset of Americans—sending many into “bunker” mode.  For that reason, I can’t help asking:  Regardless of what you feel about those resisting vaccination and the viability of such restrictions, how do you feel about the tenor of some of this rhetoric above?   

Certainly, there will be many who may sensibly say, “the rhetoric is unfortunate, but the deep concern is only understandable.” Indeed, there are plenty of reasonable ways to advocate for restrictions, without insisting on people with questions being social pariahs. For instance, other commentators said things like: 

• “Honestly, I see little difference between vaccine holdouts and a person who claims they should have the freedom to drive drunk.  In both cases, an individual’s … behavior … puts not only themselves, but others, at risk.”
• “Nearly every employer requires a drug test. Nearly all schools require proof of basic childhood vaccinations. Requiring proof of COVID vaccination does not impinge on anyone’s freedom.”
• “The military requires other vaccines, so do many schools and colleges.   We need clear reasons for exceptions and they need to be few in number and backed by science.” 

As we’ve seen over recent years in American discourse, there’s a significant difference between holding serious concern and saying incendiary, aggressive things. For one, if your goal is to “persuade the holdouts” pretty much the best thing you can do to drive people even deeper into their bunkers is to reinforce the visceral sense of being outcasts, social pariahs, and potential exiles “banished” from polite society.  

Furthermore, as people of faith, I believe it’s our obligation to stand up against such provocative rhetoric, on any issue. In this spirit, President Dallin H. Oaks recently called for Latter-day Saints to work towards commonality rather than discord: “On contested issues, we should seek to moderate and unify.”

In recent weeks, I’ve also proposed more attention to what a productive vaccine dialogue would look like.  In that spirit of seeking mutual understanding, I would leave an honest question to those feeling concerned with the unvaccinated (if not the rhetoric above):  Is it possible to disagree about dominant medical conclusions in this area thoughtfully?  

With so much attention to questions about the vaccine intervention itself, I’ve personally been struck at how little acknowledgment there seems to be regarding the very different approaches to illness and health that have a long history in America (aka, an alternative, natural, and naturopathic stance vs. a more dominant allopathic philosophy). 

In the absence of that acknowledgment, those questioning vaccination are increasingly cast, almost automatically, as merely stupid, anti-science, selfish—as if that were the only way someone could be seriously questioning the vaccine.  

Ignorance and ill-will. And maybe some egotism?  As Dr. Fauci recently said with more than a little sarcasm, “If you want to only worry about yourself and not society, then that’s OK.”   

But what if these resistors are questioning more than the vaccination itself?  What if they also hold a very different philosophy of health and healing?  Furthermore, what if they also care immensely about solving the pandemic, but are unconvinced the vaccination is our primary salvation—indeed, harboring personal concerns at inadvertent, longer-term impacts that we are not aware of yet?

Is that really all that reasonable? While acknowledging the legitimacy of your own feelings and concerns, are you open to others being thoughtful as well in their dissent?  

Stop calling those with honest questions about vaccines simply “selfish” or “ignorant” or even “crazy.” Start recognizing that competing medical philosophies are also at play here:  competing views of how healing happens—and how best to protect health.

I recognize these suggestions and questions will press some readers in uncomfortable ways. But if we’re committed to a fully honest American discourse, what really is the alternative?  

These remain fearful times for many.  On one hand, a large group of Americans fears what will happen if herd immunity is not reached.  On the other hand, another group of Americans fears serious threats to their freedom—especially if they get wholly blamed for any bad turn in the pandemic, as is highly probable.

At the very least, let’s try to hear each other’s fears—even and perhaps especially if we disagree with the basis behind them.  

Outside of that fairytale land where everyone eventually ends up coming around to agree with your view, it’s hard to find really positive answers to any of this ongoing conflict. 

Yet this very palpable, shared sense of fear, alongside the common desire to overcome the pandemic, both remain common grounds that virtually all Americans stand on.  

Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

The post The Most Reviled Minority in America? appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

For an organization whose tagline was, “a nervy bunch of liberals and conservatives who believe that dialogue and disagreement make for a good conversation, a good country, and a good time,” this sounds like just the kind of issue we’d want to feature in a dialogue event, right?  

Wrong.  Although we held events on climate change, police brutality, sex education, the secular-religious divide, and LGBT issues, we decided against a vaccination event.  Even for people that usually jumped at a chance to explore hot issues, this felt a little too risky for us.  

And that was before COVID-19 and before something called a “vaccine passport” started to be seriously discussed.  If vaccination was a hot topic in the days of the Disneyland measles outbreak, it would burn a hole in your hand if you touch it now. As columnist Jay Evensen recently quipped, “If you love the culture war, just wait for ‘vaccine passports.’”

So, does this mean we should stay away from any vaccine dialogue efforts? What happens when we avoid discussing disagreements around especially controversial topics like this? 

Exactly what we’re seeing all around us:  a situation further polarizing by the day…one where those with hesitations about vaccines are often quickly dismissed as “crazy anti-vaxxers.” This stigmatized group is then free to talk amongst themselves about how hoodwinked everyone is to trust Pharma, the WHO, Gates, and Fauci—bolstered by very real (not made-up) attempts to silence their concerns.

In place of difficult, genuine dialogue, we get something fairly predictable. As Cass Sunstein at the University of Chicago has shown, when people talk with others who agree with them, they unsurprisingly become more convinced of what they already believe.  

Not exactly what America needs right now.  

So, what’s the alternative?  Does anyone seriously believe there’s another way to approach this conversation?   

I do. Despite earlier hesitancies, I believe it’s become urgent to reflect together on what achieving a more productive vaccine dialogue would take.  

And I’m not alone. Years ago, serious conversations took place about starting a “vaccine dialogue project” with colleagues at the National Coalition of Dialogue and Deliberation, where I served on the board. Although this likewise never saw the light of day, I’d like to share a draft of a document developed during that time: “Ten Ways that Thoughtful, Good-hearted People Disagree about Vaccination.”

This is reflective of a similar series of documents created over the years to “map out” different perspectives in hopes of helping people experience what David Blankenhorn once called “achieving disagreement” (a disagreement that is fair and representative of what each side thinks, rather than passing along distortions so common with mutual resentment). Earlier versions included comparable disagreement maps on Policing & Public Safety, Gun rights/Gun control, Sexual Orientation & LGBT Rights, and Race Relations. More recently, we at Public Square Magazine have created similar maps for honestly-held differences in perspective among American citizens regarding COVID-19 response, and the integrity of the recent presidential election.   

Each of these reflects different ways of seeking what President Dallin H. Oaks recently called for Latter-day Saints to work towards, “On contested issues, we should seek to moderate and unify.”

Yet one thing I’ve learned over and over in these attempts is how tempting it is for one side (or the other) to see any such effort to create deeper understanding (on any issue) as a serious threat. “Why would we give anti-gay bigots a platform to be understood better?” some LGBT activists say—while some religious conservatives might agree in the other direction, “how dare we expose people to more of their lies?”  

Similarly uncompromising evaluations are felt across all these issues: “Why would we spend another minute trying to understand someone whose views are so dangerous, so reckless, and so clearly off-base?”  

Often in the case of those holding majority opinions (on climate change, sexuality, and vaccines, for instance), people like to insist the “science is settled” and therefore, public opinion should likewise be settled in regards to a warming climate, gay marriage, the efficacy of vaccinations, etc. And from this vantage point, dialogue is therefore opening a proverbial can-o’-worms, aka, a conversation that should remain closed. Why should anyone be willing to understand that sorry perspective anyway?  

Better instead, to ramp up educational and persuasion efforts—confronting and challenging those with wrong views, while staying far away from anything with a possibility of validating them. This also helps explain the ongoing, intense campaigns to frame those holding dissenting views as lacking credibility either intellectually or morally—e.g. calling them “bigots and haters” or “climate deniers” or “anti-science” or “anti-vaxxers.”  

In fairness, when it comes to matters of public health, the stakes are especially high.  That makes the temptation to silence threats especially powerful, and justified “for the well-being of all.”  

But the underlying dynamic doesn’t change. If silencing and ignoring one another doesn’t work on other contentious issues, why would it work with vaccines?  When people with sincerely held views about gay marriage, guns, race, or COVID-19 solutions feel silenced, suppressed, and vilified— what do you think they do next?  

Of course, they don’t moderate.  Or soften.  Or open. Or stay curious about new insights.  

They harden.  And close off even more.  And get even angrier.  

This is my response to those who choked on the idea of “thoughtful, good-hearted” people disagreeing in the title of the aforementioned document.  “Thoughtful?  Yeah, right—those anti-vaxxers are like the craziest people I know.”

“Good-hearted? You bet—those people who trust Pharma and its cronies at the World Health Organization have all our best interests in mind.” 

If that’s your starting point, this is probably not for you. Surely there’s some video or article out there ready to reinforce your own views—and confirm how loopy those on the other side are.    

Or you could try something else.  Something challenging, even in the best of circumstances: listening deeply to those who see this differently than you do.  

The greatest dialogue challenge of all? However challenging that practice can be—and usually is—with gay rights, religious freedom, climate change, and guns, this vaccine question might honestly be the greatest dialogue challenge of all. 

I used to tell people LGBT dialogue was the most difficult. Like climate change, LGBT questions feel like life-and-death to people. Yet on both issues, it’s always been clear there are lots of widely respected people on both sides with real clout. With vaccination (and other health-related questions), however, despite the fact that as high as 49% of Republican men report not planning to take the vaccine, there’s a widespread perception that all the smart and respectable people are on the same page—e.g. “most doctors say X,” and “most researchers agree on Y.”  

While professional consensus views clearly exist, I’ve cautioned against the tendency to overlook honest disagreements among researchers and to portray science as a simplistic revealer of one storyline—another factor making dialogue difficult. (Starting a conversation with “Why don’t you just trust the science?!” doesn’t necessarily leave much space for productive back-and-forth, right?!) 

However urgent these other questions may feel, vaccination also stirs up strong emotions on both sides in the immediate here and now, as our own physical well-being right now feels in the balance. In such an atmosphere, even raising a question publicly, however honest (about side-effects, etc.) can get you accused of outright threatening public health.  

All this explains, once again, why I’m personally convinced anything related to vaccination is the most challenging question for public dialogue today.  

Even so, rather than shy away from all this, like we did years ago, I’m writing to propose the opposite course. Instead of running away from vaccine dialogue in fear, what if we turned to face it like a runner seeking the greatest challenge of all? “Okay, I’ve done a marathon before.  Now it’s time to do one marathon per day for a month!”  

Okay, maybe this isn’t that hard and crazy.  But it’s pretty darn close.    

Rather than just sharing different opinions and feelings about vaccinations, this dialogue would need to take up issues such as competing views of how reliable the COVID count is, and different ways that side-effects are being framed and interpreted. Another part of the dialogue would have to be what Noah Rothman referred to as “the Rise of the Immunity Class.”

Does this all sound too scary?  

I honestly believe it will for most—recognizing that some will look at dialogue like this as yet another way to spread vaccine hesitancy.  That would certainly not be the aim or aspiration of any such efforts. True dialogue does not have an agenda beyond deepening understanding and expanding our grasp on truth together.

But maybe that’s precisely the problem. Some believe any public conversation should have an educational agenda—while others will continue to insist the vaccine-hesitant don’t deserve deeper understanding (and that, yes, doing so risks granting credibility to ideas in a way that expands them further).  

If that’s what you sincerely believe, then honest listening and engagement will be hard, if not impossible.  In your head, you might hopefully imagine a scenario where—with sufficient education—everyone (or at least enough people) eventually “come around” to seeing vaccination the way you do.  

But what if they don’t? What then?  

If truth is what we care about, and educating more people about that truth, then we should have nothing to fear from honest dialogue—a place where truth wins out in the end. In contrast, a repressive environment of censorship and fear allows contrarian ideas to prosper in the shadows—whether they are true or not.  

If America doesn’t reach its hoped-for herd immunity, will even more silencing, coercion, control, and mandates become seen as necessary?   

Which way will we choose?  

I fear many Americans have already made their choice.  But for those with an openness to another way, I can’t help but raise my voice. 

Thanks for listening. 

The post Is Vaccine Dialogue Even Possible? appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

The response was predictable. The Huffington Post described it as “bonkers.” The Washington Post described the concern as “inflammatory” and “hyper-charged,” while Newsweek dismissed it as a “conspiracy theory.” And on Twitter popular figures went so far as to describe those who believed the idea as “f****** idiots.”

This knee-jerk response by media outlets is somewhat understandable. Representative Greene has been prone to state outlandish theories that are strongly suspicious and often provably wrong. As public concern grows about the increase in conspiracy theories on a variety of issues, it can be all too simple to throw religious convictions you don’t share into the same bucket.

But ultimately this kind of ridicule is unlikely to get across the message these authors are hoping to convey (presumably something more than, “wow, these Christians are batty!”). While ridicule can help enforce normative social boundaries, especially among the young, among well-established religious adults, ridicule only serves to reinforce a feeling of being separate from and not served by the larger community.

Critics and commentators hoping to build a national consensus in favor of the COVID-19 vaccine (myself included) may do well to remember that ridiculing those from different information ecosystems only serves to further sever ties, thus cutting individuals off from the free flow of important information.

And even more to the point, the mark of the beast is not, as Newsweek described it, a mere “conspiracy theory.” It is a religious prophecy from the book of Revelation that is believed to at least some degree by more than 70% of American adults. 

It may be important, perhaps even a matter of national health, to persuade the general public that a vaccine passport is not the mark of the beast. But to throw religious conviction into the same category as conspiracy theories immediately ends the important work of persuasion.

It’s also the case that for journalists, who frequently lack religious literacy, it can be easy to miss actual similarities between the vaccine passport and the mark of the beast, and thus dismiss those who recognize them as reactionaries.

The reference to the mark of the beast comes from Revelations 13, and the key section comes in verse 17, “No one can buy or sell unless he has the mark.”

A passport that would limit the ability to buy and sell, then, would then immediately raise alarm bells for those worried about the fulfillment of this apocalyptic prophecy. There also exists a popular belief that the mark of the beast will be in the form of a UPC code since the three stop-bars on a UPC code resemble the number six. Verse 18 in the same text predicts that the “number of the beast … is 666.” (And yes, a UPC code shows up on all vaccine passports.) A UPC code acting as the mark of the beast was popularized by the “Left Behind” book series, which followed an Evangelical understanding of last-day prophecies, and sold more than 65 million copies.

Connecting a passport that allows you to buy and sell and contains a UPC code to the mark of the beast is not all that unreasonable from a Christian perspective and should have perhaps been predictable to anyone with a rudimentary understanding of American religion. Yet instead, as mentioned earlier, journalists responded by quickly calling it all “bonkers” “inflammatory” and “conspiracy theory.”

Yes, journalists certainly need to cover the who, what, when, where, and why of vaccine passports. But they also need to be addressing the questions their readers will be asking. Without the same religious literacy as the majority of their readerships, it maybe shouldn’t surprise us that they fail to ask to anticipate those questions. 

The Babylon Bee, which understands religious Americans well, immediately grasped both the connection between the vaccine passport and the mark of the beast, in its parody, “Vaccine Passport can Now Be Tattooed On Your Hand or Forehead.” But that laugh line only lands because it’s clear to both writer and reader that while a connection exists, there are too many differences for the passport to in fact be the fulfillment of prophecy.

In more serious reporting, these concerns could have been easily addressed when vaccine passports first became discussed. A single paragraph from an ecumenical faith leader explaining the differences between the passport and apocalyptic prophecies could have reassured Christian readers rather than painting them as backward extremists.

This would not have been difficult. Revelation suggests that the mark will be imposed worldwide, by a leader you must worship or be killed, and be tattooed on the hand and/or forehead. It also comes from the anti-Christ. 

The vaccine passport is instead either a private initiative or a public program that private enterprises opt into that that is locally or nationally based. The stop bars on the UPC code are similar to sixes but are in fact a different shape. And the most powerful person pushing it is President Joe Biden, who you may or may not care for, but who clearly does not match the prophecy for the anti-Christ of Revelation.

There is also ample scriptural basis for the belief that “marks” such as those in Ezekiel 9, are entirely symbolic.

If you are concerned that the vaccine passport is the fulfillment of apocalyptic prophecy, rest easy. It’s not. There are simply too many differences. 

None of this is to weigh in on the political question of whether or not the vaccine passport is a good policy. Both believers and non-believers can wrestle with those political questions. 

And with a little acceptance, honesty, inclusion, and religious literacy, journalists could help facilitate that conversation rather than turning it into yet another divisive entrant into our culture wars.

The post The Mark of the Beast is More Than a Punchline appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Of course, many are excited for things to “get back to normal” (or at least to some “new normal”) as much as possible. We human beings need to have such hopes to hang on to in our darker times. 

Even so, we should not ignore the pervasive loss that we experienced both individually and collectively. First, we need to mourn. 

The Book of Mormon prophet Alma said that a prerequisite of a covenant people is to be “willing to mourn with those that mourn.” 

Over my more than six decades of life, I have been called on to mourn with those that mourn and have had my own share of opportunities to mourn and grieve. I am not a grief counselor nor am I a particularly sensitive or compassionate person. And I struggle with the same kinds of anxieties and weaknesses as everyone else. 

But I have tried to observe carefully and learn about grief. And below I share some thoughts that I hope might be helpful to you and those with whom you mourn as you comfort each other. I encourage any reader who desires additional assistance to reach out to trusted loved ones and friends, to religious leaders, and/or to professionals who are experienced in grief counseling.

Embracing the Need to Mourn Together

While mourning and comforting others who are mourning can bring sweet relief and deep peace, it can also be difficult and painful. The American poet Robert Bly observed that many want to soar above sadness, having great difficulty confronting grief and pain directly. 

Although most of us would naturally love to skip the sorrow, the sadness, the tears, and the other wrenching emotions surrounding grief, without being willing to mourn—and mourn together—we will not be able to fully embrace the joyful end of this pestilence.

Like any difficult process, this typically takes time and practice to learn to do so well. Yet as hard as it may be, our mourning—particularly mourning with others in positive ways—can help us heal and has other benefits as well. 

By contrast, unresolved grief can create psychological and relational challenges that can range from minor to significant—something I’ve seen in counseling others in both professional and pastoral settings.

In the film First Man, we witness the powerful journey of Neil Armstrong to reach the moon—a quest that—like his marriage and family—was nearly derailed by unresolved grief (about a three-year-old daughter lost to cancer, and several friends and fellow astronauts to accidents along the way). Neil Armstrong’s inability to address his grief in healthy ways led to a variety of personal and relational problems. The film nicely captures that while it is possible to “be tough” and “press forward” in your work and life in the face of profound grief, there is a steep price for oneself and one’s loved ones that comes with unresolved grief.

A Spectrum of Grief

Since March of 2020, all of us have experienced losses of many kinds. This is made worse by the reality that many loved ones and friends were not able to be with people as they neared the end of their lives. People have not been allowed to congregate and mourn together and comfort each other. And hundreds of millions have not been able to gather to grieve in ways they are used to and would have liked to.

For many people, their grieving process was also disrupted by not being able to gather in places of worship and/or under the direction of trusted religious leaders. Religious ritual can be helpful to many people across various faiths and the comfort provided by words spoken from familiar scriptures, consoling funerary rites, meaningful religious symbols, and the physical presence of friends and fellow believers all can bring a measure of peace.

As we begin to gather once again in the near future, there will be many among us who will be experiencing some degree of delayed grieving as we remember our previous inability to fully mourn those whom we lost during the COVID-19 shutdowns. There will be a kind of layered grieving occurring as we mourn the immediate loss along with our prior inability to fully mourn our previous loss or losses.

The variety of losses due to COVID-19 and its related shutdowns extend far beyond death. How many felt or continue to feel a sense of loss because, after March of last year, they were not able to gather to celebrate births, birthdays, marriages, graduations, religious rites of passage (e.g., Christenings, baptisms, bar/bat mitzvahs), and many other milestones?

People had to put off long-planned-for activities on their bucket lists, long-yearned for trips (e.g., religious pilgrimages, needed vacations, seeing beloved relatives), of which some will no longer be possible to enjoy.

For young people, in particular, there was a real sense of sadness that they were not able to celebrate their special day (e.g., prom) or achievement in the way that they (and others) desired. The natural tendency will be simply to plan some kind of redo. This is a wonderful idea. However, in the midst of the celebration. It is likely that, at least for some of those involved, there will also be some kind of grieving that will be part of this celebration and it is important to recognize and honor this grief as well.

Anxiety Around Providing Comfort

Because we do not tend to talk much about how to grieve nor how to help each other in our grief, many of us find that we are not quite sure what to do or say (or not do or not say) when trying to comfort someone experiencing the pain of significant loss. 

This lack of confidence can bring significant anxiety and, in an effort to avoid this, can lead us to avoid this process and avoid the people who most need our presence in their time of loss. Being what grief counselors call a “non-anxious presence” with someone who is mourning is not easy for all of us but can make a big difference in their grief processes. Being a non-anxious presence involves being present with a person in mourning without bringing our own anxieties about loss. 

We need to be compassionate and patient with ourselves and with others as we all go through the grieving process together. While there can be great consolation in having other persons there physically, if that is not possible then Zoom calls, phone calls, cards, emails, or even texts are certainly better than nothing.

Navigating Incongruent Grief

It may be a challenge to mourn with someone who is mourning quite differently than you.  Incongruent grief because of differences across gender, culture, personality, and beliefs is common. 

For example, compared to some, other’s grief tends to be: (a) less openly expressive (nonverbal grief), (b) more cognitive (efforts to understand and resolve intellectually), (c) experienced in isolation (emotion expressed privately), (d) left unresolved (not addressed, expressed, or discussed), (e) associated with anger (at God, fate, others, self), or (f) associated with shame (“real men don’t cry” or “I should be the strong one” or “I must lack testimony or faith since I should be over this by now” or the almost universal sense of “maybe I could have prevented the loss”).

To mourn with someone who is mourning, therefore, often means being willing to mourn in a way that we may not be familiar or comfortable with. Comforting someone who needs comfort often means comforting them in ways you are not familiar or comfortable with. For example, in a marriage, each spouse may need to understand and remember that they may not be comfortable grieving in the same way or at the same pace as their spouse. 

As best we can, we ought to allow for differences of grieving and support each other by mourning with the other. True compassion involves suffering with someone, not just feeling sorrow for someone.

So, if your spouse needs to talk but you don’t, still try allowing them to talk.  If your spouse would prefer not to talk, you might also allow for silence and not try to push verbal expression of emotion on them.

Likewise, parents may need to understand and remember that their children are likely not going to grieve in the same way and at the same pace as adults. Parents need to allow and perhaps assist their children to grieve in ways that are age- and personality-appropriate. 

It is also important to allow and encourage children to grieve. Rather than trying to shield children from funerals and discussions of death or the deceased person, let’s nurture rituals of remembrance. And let’s allow these precious youth to express their feelings in whatever way is age and personality appropriate (art, writing, talking, being alone). 

The Ministry of Mourning with Others

The Lord Jesus Christ is our great exemplar in mourning with others. The Savior’s actions when He came to Bethany to be with Mary and Martha as they grieved the loss of their brother Lazarus is a wonderful example. The Bible records, “When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit and was troubled. And he said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the Jews, Behold how he loved him!” (John 11:33-36). 

Those who observed that Jesus wept assumed it was because He loved Lazarus. That was certainly true. However, I believe that Jesus wept with Mary and Martha and others who were weeping because He loved all of them. 

He knew He soon would raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew they would rejoice in this great miracle. Nonetheless, Jesus showed compassion for their present sense of loss and separation. Because He loved them, He mourned with them.

Reflecting on Your Own Grief and Healing

We all have our comfort zones in how we manage our own emotional challenges, trials, losses, and suffering. You might ask yourself:  What are my own tendencies in how I grieve? Are there ways that my present tendencies are blocking my ability to grieve in healthy ways?

For various reasons, many of us have deep and profound unresolved pain and confusion about losses we have experienced but not yet grieved about or are still struggling with. Consider exploring: How can I receive guidance and help from the Lord, loved ones, friends, or professionals in helping me address my own unresolved grief over my losses? How can I learn to emotionally and spiritually heal from losses that have profoundly confused and/or troubled me that I have not yet been able/willing to confront?

Many of us also face barriers in being comforted by others. Barriers may stem from various sources, including how we were raised, what we have experienced, our temperament and personality, the spiritual condition of our hearts and souls, and our personal choices to open ourselves up to comfort. You might ask yourself: What are the barriers I personally have faced or now face in experiencing comfort in the midst of grief from the Lord and/or from others? What can I do to make progress toward overcoming these barriers? How can the Lord or my loved ones (or a professional) help me overcome these barriers?

There are many defense mechanisms that can also influence how we deal with our own emotional pain and confusion and how we respond to others who are experiencing pain and confusion. Consider asking:  How can I grow in my ability to overcome my personal tendencies and defenses to better be able to obtain the comfort, healing, and resolutions that I need around my grief?

Reflecting on Your Ministry to Others Who Are Grieving 

We are each on our own personal journey toward being able to mourn with those that mourn in a healing way. In particular, we each have ways we grow in our personal spiritual, emotional, and relational capacities to better minister to our brothers and sisters who are mourning. You might ask yourself:  What are the most important ways for me personally to grow in my ability to mourn with those that mourn? What resources do I need to assist me in my journey? How can I grow personally to allow me to better mourn with someone who mourns in different ways than I do or in ways with which I am less comfortable?

Many good and caring people find that they are tempted to do one of the following when faced with the prospect of being with someone who has experienced a troubling and painful loss: avoid the person, pity the person, judge the person, or preach to the person. Many others experience anxiety and discomfort when faced with the need to engage with others who are mourning. You might ask yourself: What anxieties do I experience when called on to mourn with and comfort others? How can I counter any personal temptations I may have to do one of the above so that I can mourn with the person?

God asks us to “mourn with” those who are mourning rather than merely to pray for, talk to, serve, teach, encourage, love, or lift them. Of course, those are all good things to help in comforting someone who is mourning. But the scripture specifically invites us to “mourn with” them. Consider ways that mourning with someone might help you to better comfort that person.  And you might also ask: What personal anxieties, fears, weaknesses, or problems do I have that might make it more difficult for me to mourn with someone? And how can the Lord, a loved one, a friend, my ministering companion, or a Church leader help me grow in my abilities to mourn with a person who is mourning?

The Lord knows what each of His children most need to comfort them in different stages of their grieving process. Ask yourself:  How can I obtain spiritual guidance in my efforts to minister by mourning with those who are mourning?

It is better if we do not assume that because some time—even years—have passed or that someone “seems” to be doing fine, that they are “over” their loss. Many who have experienced profound loss say it feels like you are standing in the waves at the beach; even if you don’t feel like you are drowning, waves of grief are still present. You might ask yourself: How can I grow in my ability to be with someone in their grief—even their long-standing grief—when I think that perhaps they should “get over” their loss?

Learning from Our Jewish Friends

Throughout more than three millennia of their wanderings and sufferings, our Jewish friends have experienced more loss and grief than any other people. In the crucible of affliction, they have learned how to mourn together. 

There are a number of very beautiful and wise specific practices associated with the Jewish mourning process including tearing an outer garment, having mourners “sit Shiva” on low chairs or stools in the home for seven days, and reciting together the Mourner’s Kaddish which is a prayer of praise to God (said each day in the first seven days following the death and then each year on the anniversary of the death).

One important Jewish mourning practice is about the appropriate way to interact with the loved ones of a deceased person. The traditional practice is that when a person goes to mourn with a person who has experienced the loss no greetings are exchanged. Rather, the visitor waits for the person in mourning to initiate the conversation and lead the conversation where they wish it to go. This allows mourners to decide if and what they prefer to discuss rather than what the visitor might want to say and this hopefully removes any expectation for the mourner to comfort the visitor. 

This is consistent with the idea that just sitting close to someone who is mourning and being with them in their pain often is preferable to trying to comfort them with thoughts and words that may or may not be helpful to them.

Seeking Someone to Mourn with You

In seeking someone to mourn with you, here are some things to consider:

Qualities to seek: Someone who is understanding, wise, patient, kind, mature, and a good listener. For many, a spouse is a wonderful person with whom to grieve. However, not all spouses are able to do so in a way that is helpful and healing. Some have their own grief issues, others have many other burdens. Others would like to help but are unsure what to do. If you can find a loved one or good friend who really knows and loves you, that is a good person to consider. 

Things to do: ponder, pray, weep, converse, read, walk, hug, hold, be held. Let others mourn with you. Try not to push them away (however kindly you do it).

What to avoid: someone who is not capable or willing to really listen. Someone who cannot resist “one-upping” other people or bringing everything back to them and their problems. There are few who know how to fully address difficult emotions like grief. Wait for a good time and situation. Avoid public places (e.g., church meetings). It is unlikely that you will get to the heart of the matter or get much relief in one short conversation. Avoid denying loss and pain; avoid delaying grieving; avoid displacing mourning into work (including Church service); avoid distracting yourself from mourning (e.g., workaholism, addictions, amusements, hobbies).

Some Final Thoughts

For Christians, including members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, part of the joy of spring comes from the approach of the Easter season in which we remember the morning of Christ’s resurrection that followed the nights of His disciples’ grief over His crucifixion.

The joy that infused the Savior’s disciples that Easter morn was a marvelous fulfillment of the Psalmist who said, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning (Psalms 30:5). 

Enduring a night of weeping is much less difficult if someone is weeping with us. Latter-day Saints believe in a God of such compassion that he weeps in response to the suffering of human beings (Moses 7:41). Even more comfort can come when we know that others who know and love us are weeping with us through our long, difficult night.

May we all be willing to mourn with each other, to comfort each other, and to help each other through the dark nights of our souls that we might better enjoy the joy of the morning together.

A Summary List of Some Comforting Do’s and Don’ts:

DO:

• Try to be a non-anxious presence.
• Allow for lengthy and recurring grieving.
• Eliminate expectations about other’s grieving processes and allow them to go through the grief process at their pace and in their way.
• Avoid trying to “make everything alright” with your understanding.
• Listen more than you talk.
• Hold hands, hug, or be near the grieving person.
• Try to anticipate needs and just fill them rather than just ask “is there anything I can do?”
• Talk about the person who has died even though it may be uncomfortable at first to do so.
• Encourage and participate in “rituals of remembrance” (remembering birthdays, anniversaries, etc.).
• Stand as a witness of God as the One—the only One—who can bring the kind of comfort needed.

    DO NOT:

• Assume that a doctrinal understanding that is comforting for you will be comforting for another person.
• Judge people for how, when, or where they grieve.
• Feel responsible to make the pain go away.
• Assume that your understanding of the gospel is the same as the person you are comforting (handicapped child, early death, need for ordinances, etc.).
• Assume that if someone cries at a funeral or does not “get over it” within some period of time that they are lacking in testimony or faith.

David C. Dollahite, Ph.D. is Camilla Eyring Kimball Professor of Family Life at Brigham Young University and Co-director of the American Families of Faith project.

The post Mourning Together as Morning Dawns appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Over recent months, we’ve likewise heard many reports and commentaries celebrating how effective the leading coronavirus vaccine candidates have turned out to be. In the same spirit of promoting thoughtful inquiry about these crisis interventions, I walk through a similar analysis below of the most recent data from leading vaccine clinical trials – asking the same question posed in the British Medial Journal this last fall, “What [does] it mean exactly when a vaccine is declared ‘effective’?”

I take as my primary texts the published research reports of the three leading coronavirus vaccines (of 44 being tested clinically, and another 151 in preclinical development), each of which released new updates within the last month. Hyperlinks to the full text of each are available below, including:  

• Moderna’s most recent Phase III findings in partnership with the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID): Lindsey Baden, et al. Efficacy and Safety of the mRNA-1273 SARS-CoV-2 Vaccine (December 30, 2020, New England Journal of Medicine). 
• BioNTech-Pfizer’s most recent Phase III findings: Fernando Polack, et al. Safety and Efficacy of the BNT162b2 mRNA Covid-19 Vaccine (December 10, 2020, New England Journal of Medicine). 
• Oxford-Astrazeneca’s most recent Phase III findings: Merryn Voysey, et al. Safety and efficacy of the ChAdOx1 nCoV-19 vaccine (AZD1222) against SARS-CoV-2: an interim analysis of four randomized controlled trials in Brazil, South Africa, and the UK (December 8, 2020, Lancet). 

I’ve had experience reviewing other clinical trials over the years and led my own randomized-controlled trial of a mindfulness-based intervention for youth several years back. While I’m familiar with some of the many variables that go into these kinds of rigorous, controlled studies, I’m not pretending to be an immunology or vaccine expert here. Instead, this is offered as a lay review of publicly available data written for an audience of people, like me, who aren’t experts in these matters—but who want to know enough to feel confident in their health decisions.  

In doing so, I acknowledge a fraught, pandemic climate wherein any question raised can be feared as potentially “undermining public trust” or even “spreading misinformation.” That, of course, is not my intention. Like everyone else, I care about promoting truth and preserving public trust. And surely, space to continue exploring matters carefully together is protective to us all, and to the precious lives and health we are all trying to preserve. Indeed, if we have reached a point where sincere questions and honest concerns about popular views are automatically cast as “dangerous,” the peril of this moment is larger than we might realize.    

In October 2020, Oxford scholar Dr. Susanne Hodgson and colleagues asked similar questions in a review entitled, “What defines an efficacious COVID-19 vaccine? A review of the challenges assessing the clinical efficacy of vaccines against SARS-CoV-2.” In that piece, they referenced the unprecedented “warp speed” of COVID-19 vaccine development to date, “with some candidates beginning phase 3 studies within 4 months of the start of vaccine development”—thanks to modifications such as conducting usually sequential animal and human trials simultaneously, and combining Phase 2 and 3 of trials. Given this speed, these scholars argue for the social value of heightened scrutiny of the clinical results, noting that: 

Assessment of the efficacy of a vaccine is complex for many diseases but particularly so in the case of SARS-CoV-2, where the fundamental understanding of the pathogen is evolving. … In keeping with the development of any novel medical intervention, but particularly so in this [charged] context, it is imperative that efficacy outcomes for a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine are critically appraised with scientific rigour to understand their generalisability and clinical significance.

Adding to this kind of healthy critical appraisal necessary for a productive public discussion is my hope. (Special thanks to the review from four expert reviewers – two researchers, and two MD’s – and their thoughtful feedback that helped refine the piece).  I summarize the exploration below in three sections, each taking up one aspect of what many would assume it means for a health intervention like vaccinations to be deemed as “effective.” 

1. Sustainability:  Effective over a certain period of time. When any health intervention is presented in news reports as effective, most people take for granted this means its success has proven to endure over some sustained period of time.  It’s common, though, for many to be surprised in learning that most new pharmacological treatments are approved by the FDA on the basis of RCTs (Randomized Controlled Trials) with between 8 and 12 weeks of follow-up.

These Phase III vaccine trials fall right in that same range, with a median duration of 8 weeks follow-up after the second vaccine dose for all trials (and a subset of the Pfizer sample having another 6 weeks of follow-up after that). This is a limitation that investigators have acknowledged and been open about. As the Moderna researchers note, “Key limitations of the data are the short duration of safety and efficacy follow-up.” Referencing this same time limitation, Pfizer researchers state that “both the occurrence of adverse events more than 2 to 3.5 months after the second dose and more comprehensive information on the duration of protection remain to be determined.”

These kinds of acknowledgments are important since most of the more serious adverse effects sometimes witnessed in a subset of people taking other vaccines (such as auto-immune neurodevelopmental and chronic conditions) would take much longer than a few months to manifest.

It’s partly these shorter-term follow-up periods common in controlled trials that prompted UCLA scholar David Cohen to raise concern years ago with the “inability of conventional clinical trials to provide a true picture” of a health intervention’s full effects.

In the absence of more serious and systematic longer-term research, of course, there are some definitive things that can still be said about a vaccine’s more immediate effects. Namely, in this case, that people who received this vaccine across trials were less likely to experience COVID-19 any symptoms of COVID-19 in the 2-3 months after, compared with those who did not get the vaccine (that includes “infections even with only mild symptoms” which “qualify” as a “COVID-19 event” in all Phase 3 trials).  

That’s what the “90%” and “94%” and “95% successful” figures refer to, different than what some presume (I’ve noticed many assuming these stats meaning something like this: “hey cool – there’s a 95% chance this vaccine will be effective in making sure I don’t get COVID-19!”). The statistical meaning of these numbers is more nuanced, namely: that out of the total number of people vaccinated (compared with the total not vaccinated), the percentage of people who showed symptoms of COVID-19 were that much less in the treatment group. Specifically:  

• Out of 15,210 participants in the Moderna placebo group, 185 people showed some symptoms of COVID-19, compared with 11 people in the vaccinated group.  
• Out of 21,728 participants in the Pfizer placebo group, 162 people showed some symptoms of COVID-19, compared with 8 people in the vaccinated group.  

That’s what the numbers mean.  They also mean that for every 20,000 people willing to get vaccinated, we can expect just under 200 of them will be less likely in the months post-vaccination to experience COVID-19 symptoms. Although it would have been helpful to have a large enough study to investigate whether the vaccine prevents serious illness, hospitalization and death, the size and cost of that study would have been too large.    

That’s why, as summarized by Peter Doshi, associated editor of the British Medical Journal, “none of the trials currently under way are designed to detect a reduction in any serious outcome such as hospital admissions, use of intensive care, or deaths.” As he explained, “Hospital admissions and deaths from covid-19 are simply too uncommon in the population being studied for an effective vaccine to demonstrate statistically significant differences in a trial of 30, 000 people. The same is true of its ability to save lives or prevent transmission: the trials are not designed to find out.”

 As the trial researchers acknowledge, the existing data  is not “sufficient to assess asymptomatic infection” (Moderna study),—or “address whether vaccination prevents asymptomatic infection” (Pfizer study)—with additional evaluations planned “to assess whether vaccination affects infectiousness.” The AstraZeneca study monitored asymptomatic transmission in one study arm but noted: “no testing plan for asymptomatic infections” in another arm of the study, which likewise didn’t allow conclusive findings on that point until more data emerge. 

Summarizing these limitations, Tal Zaks, chief medical officer at Moderna acknowledged, “Our trial will not demonstrate prevention of transmission, because in order to do that you have to swab people twice a week for very long periods, and that becomes operationally untenable.” He also added, “Would I like to know that this prevents mortality? Sure, because I believe it does. I just don’t think it’s feasible within the timeframe [of the trial].”

2. Generalizability:  Effective for more than healthy volunteers. As a general rule, it’s well known that formal study “efficacy” of a health intervention (as observed in controlled conditions) does not always predict real-world “effectiveness” in non-random, less ideal conditions. As an example of this, one scholar cited “the effectiveness of rotavirus vaccines in children in low-income and middle-income settings was lower than the efficacy observed in children in high-income countries.”

That being said, all clinical trials, including these ones, do their best to create representative samples. True representativeness, however, would involve so many variables that a clean comparison becomes difficult. So, like all controlled studies, these trials applied a set of filters to everyone who participated, in hopes of ruling out certain groups of people more naturally vulnerable to the disease. For instance, the Moderna trial had 14 different exclusion criteria—including people with a “known or suspected allergy” and those in an “immunosuppressive or immunodeficient state.”  Pfizer researchers likewise noted, “key exclusion criteria included a medical history of Covid-19, treatment with immunosuppressive therapy, or diagnosis with an immunocompromising condition.” They added that “additional studies are planned to evaluate [the vaccine] in pregnant women, children younger than 12 years, and those in special risk groups, such as immunocompromised persons.”

The obvious question this raises is how well this kind of data generated with comparatively healthy volunteers will apply to those we are understandably seeking to prioritize in our COVID-19 response—namely, those who are immunocompromised, older, or otherwise more vulnerable in their health. 

As Peter Doshi notes, “If frail elderly people…are not enrolled into vaccine trials in sufficient numbers to determine whether case numbers are reduced in this group, there can be little basis for assuming any benefit in terms of hospital admissions or mortality.”  It’s true that study volunteers tended to be younger—with trials varying in how much they involved older participants in their samples. For instance, the AstraZeneca study notes that since participants older than 56 were added later in the study (starting in August), only 12% of participants were in that age bracket.  Given that limitation, they note that “efficacy data in these [older] cohorts are currently limited by the small number of cases” and conclude that “vaccine efficacy in older age groups could not be assessed but will be determined, if sufficient data are available, in a future analysis after more cases have accrued.”

Other trials fared better in this regard. For example, Pfizer researchers report 21.4% of participants 65 years of age and older and 4.3% 75 years of age and older. And Moderna researchers report nearly 25% of participants 65 years of age or older—similarly acknowledging that “the relatively smaller numbers of cases that occurred in older adults and in participants from ethnic or racial minorities and the small number of previously infected persons who received the vaccine limit efficacy evaluations in these groups.”

Despite this acknowledged data limitation, most vaccination campaigns appear to be prioritizing older seniors, after health care workers, as early recipients.  Indeed, at current projections, millions of Americans of all ages will be vaccinated by later this year. In the meanwhile, additional analyses such as Moderna’s “Real World Effectiveness Study” are starting this month, and continuing through December.   

3. Safety: Effective without provoking other concerning effects that would outweigh benefits.  The final issue is the one about which the public seems most interested:  benefits aside, are there any inadvertent consequences that will negatively affect me in any way?

The level of careful monitoring across different phases of study should offer some assurance—each phase expanding the sample size and representativeness of the cohort.  Most careful attention goes to the 7 days after the injection in these particular Phase III studies—with the most common immediate side effects (in this case, based on Pfizer data) being injection site pain (84%), fatigue (63%), headache (55%), muscle pain (38%), chills (32%), joint pain (24%), fever (14%), injection site swelling (10.5%), injection site redness (9.5%), nausea (1.1%), malaise (0.5%), and enlarged lymph nodes (lymphadenopathy) (0.3%).

These are the more common effects observed by researchers within the first 7 days, similar to what happens with other vaccines (and which, some experts are quick to point out, are most likely a good sign your immune response is reacting correctly, releasing cytokines, etc).  

Moderna researchers note in an FDA briefing document that “severe solicited adverse reactions” are “more frequent after dose 2 than after dose 1.” While packaging inserts call this range of side-effects “mild to moderate” and “well-tolerated,” one physician representing the American Medical Association encouraged public health officials to help Americans realize “this is not going to be a walk in the park.”

It’s good that we’re focusing so carefully on the first week after the second vaccination shot. Yet, as one doctor put it candidly, “I’m not as worried about the short-term effects, the redness, the swelling, all those signs that show that the body has recognized the shot as foreign and is reacting to it. I’m much more concerned about potential long-term effects on brain inflammation or auto-immunity”—which, as we’ve noted earlier, usually take much longer than a few weeks to show up.  

The effects that emerge after one week is something we are still learning about.  In the studies, participants would self-report adverse effects after that first week if they notice something unusual. And we are starting  now to have access to more reports from real-world administration across the initial millions of vaccinations.  Last week, for instance, the CDC reported 4,393 reports of adverse reactions out of 2 million vaccine doses given through the federal government’s Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System – including 29 cases of vaccine-related anaphylaxis.

Seven total cases of Bell’s palsy (facial paralysis) emerged in vaccinated participants in the Moderna and Pfizer trials, and two cases of transverse myelitis in the AstraZeneca trial. Researchers in each study raised the possibility these were “anecdotal finding[s]” and “chance event[s]” (Moderna) and “unlikely to be related to study interventions” in one case, with a “relationship remain[ing] possible” in the second case (AstraZeneca).

While acknowledging cases of intractable nausea and facial swelling as likely related to the vaccine, Moderna researchers note that in the case of a few other “serious adverse events of rheumatoid arthritis, peripheral edema (swelling of lower limbs or hands), dyspnea with exertion (sensation of running out of the air and of not being able to breathe fast), and autonomic dysfunction (damaged ANS nerves also called autonomic neuropathy), a possibility of vaccine contribution cannot be excluded.”

Beyond this, anything else concerning that may occur in months or years after is unknown at this point, although Phase IV trials will seek to monitor those better. Important questions, then, still remain.  

Some justifiably wonder: aside from the understandable signs of the immune system working against the non-lethal pathogen, why are there any adverse effects at all? One theory of what prompts adverse effects centers on extra ingredients called “adjuvants” like polyethylene glycol (in both the Moderna and Pfizer vaccines)—a substance added to a vaccine in order to stimulate the immune system to make a strong immune response. Although common in vaccinations, these ingredients can sometimes trigger auto-immune responses and anaphylaxis in a subset of people.  

While researchers are definitely monitoring for those effects, they openly acknowledge in their published reports how their study design limits some of this assessment. As the Moderna researchers write, “the ability to detect rare events is limited, given the trial sample size.” In a separate FDA briefing document under a section titled, Adverse reactions that are very uncommon or that require longer follow-up to be detected,” Moderna researchers state that “following authorization of the vaccine, use in large numbers of individuals may reveal additional, potentially less frequent and/or more serious adverse events not detected in the trial safety population.”

Pfizer studies likewise reported “with approximately 19,000 participants per group in the subset of participants with a median follow-up time of 2 months after the second dose, the study has more than 83% probability of detecting at least one adverse event, if the true incidence is 0.01%, but it is not large enough to detect less common adverse events reliably.” Dr. Susanne Hodgson and colleagues summarize the key point:  that “clinical trials might not be sufficiently powered to detect … serious adverse events related to the vaccine, if they are uncommon.” 

The one adverse effect researchers are watching out for most. Given the history of previous coronavirus vaccine efforts—including those for SARS, and MERS—there is one specific, longer-term concern that researchers in current trials are keeping an eye out for especially. Namely, the possibility that the  vaccination could prompt a robust antibody response initially, while eliciting another kind of effect later on—something Dr. Peter Hotez, from the Baylor College of Medicine called the “unique potential safety problem of coronavirus vaccines” in testimony before Congress early in discussions of vaccine development.  Referring to a decades-old mystery of why “some who got the [1960 RSV] vaccine actually did worse,” he explained: “What happens is you get immunized and then when you get exposed to the virus you get this paradoxical immune enhancement phenomenon.” 

Referring to his own work attempting to develop a vaccine after the 2002 SARS epidemic, Dr. Hotez continued: “When we started developing coronavirus vaccines we noticed in laboratory animals that they started to show some of the same immune pathology that had resembled what happened 50 years earlier.” [The vaccinated animals had strong antibody response initially, followed by body-wide inflammation and terminal sickness after exposure to the real-life virus]. “So, we said, oh God this is going to be problematic.” 

In short, “immunized animals had increased likelihood of infection or severe disease when subsequently challenged with the target pathogen,” as Dr. Susanne Hodgson and colleagues summarize—something they refer to as “vaccine-associated enhanced respiratory disease” (VAERD). Various other names that have been used for this phenomenon include “pathogenic priming,” “paradoxical immune enhancement” (PIE), and “antibody-dependent enhancement” (ADE). 

This is one reason vaccines for SARS, MERS, and RSV never continued along the path to approval, as explained in a 2020 review called “Informed Consent Disclosure to Vaccine Trial Subjects of Risk of COVID-19 Vaccine Worsening Clinical Disease.” The authors underscore the possibility of this same risk in current efforts, noting that “COVID-19 vaccines designed to elicit neutralizing antibodies may sensitize vaccine recipients to more severe disease than if they were not vaccinated”—although, as Dr. Hodson points out, “it is unknown how it might manifest in humans.”

Thankfully, researchers are paying careful attention to this possibility, as evident in the clinical protocols. And in an FDA briefing document, Moderna researchers note that what they have found so far has been encouraging:  “Available data do not indicate a risk of vaccine-enhanced disease” while adding:  “however, risk of vaccine-enhanced disease over time, potentially associated with waning immunity, remains unknown and needs to be evaluated further in ongoing clinical trials.”  

Such questions are not uncommon with new medical interventions, and many still believe their benefit far outweighs potential risks, while others naturally look for confirmations from additional data in the year ahead.  

Interpreting emerging phenomena. It’s worth asking, what would happen if more serious adverse effects were to arise in the larger population 6 or 12 or 18 months down the line (that are not currently detectable in the study cohort)? Would they be attributed to the vaccine?  

Not likely. If medical history is any indication, these concerning effects would likely be attributed to a new, novel pathogen—or to another condition, including coronavirus itself. And God forbid, were there to arise any adverse effects exacerbating COVID19 symptoms or making people more likely to succumb to the virus, it is also not hard to imagine these consequences being attributed primarily to those opting out of the vaccine, (rather than coming from the vaccination itself). 

Given these limitations of existing protocols, the counsel from Oxford scholar Dr. Susanne Hodgson and colleagues seems especially wise:

The US FDA recommends that follow-up of study participants should continue for as long as is feasible, ideally for at least 1–2 years, to assess the duration of protection and potential for vaccine-associated enhanced respiratory disease as the immune response to the vaccine wanes. Given that COVID-19 vaccines might be deployed in the early post-marketing period to large populations over a short timeframe, it will be important that robust, ongoing pharmacovigilance is in place post licensure to identify safety signals that large-scale RCTs might not capture.

Other questions. Certainly, there are other questions worth exploring—especially when considering the scope of other vaccine candidates that could be reviewed (across eight manufacturers). For instance, many of these vaccines are drawing on new technology we’ve had less patient experience with historically, including the mRNA approach in the Moderna and Pfizer vaccines.   

It’s also worth considering (and not overlooking) who sponsors the research.  When scientific standards are met, clearly industry-sponsored research may provide valid and legitimate results. Yet selective dismissal of negative possibilities and over-emphasis on positives is still a painful memory from the recent opioid epidemic. And generally speaking, reviews of biomedical research have found that industry-funded studies were more likely to reach outcome conclusions favoring the sponsor’s product when compared with research independent of corporate interests. On this point, it’s worth noting that the trial conducted with the most academic independence—the third AstraZeneca trial set up and run by the scientists at Oxford who were determined to generate and publish the most comprehensive data—was the one that generated the 60% success finding (more in line with previous trials—but disappointing compared with the other trials). 

As a final question, some continue to wonder why more attention and investment couldn’t also be given to other mass-scale preventive interventions that research suggests might make a difference in decreasing COVID-19 rates, such as systematically increasing Vitamin C or D intake. Dr. Angel Lybbert and Dr. Ben Satterfield from Mayo Clinic wrote about these kinds of possibilities in Public Square Magazine early in the pandemic (see Five Steps to More Confidence Against Coronavirus), but there’s been very little of this kind of commentary in the months since. Why not do more to collectively emphasize these kinds of adjustments as another way to boost immunity and strengthen our collective protection against the virus?

Summary—Let’s stay attentive and clear-eyed about limitations. The tendency everywhere these days in media journalism is to trumpet all these studies as “landmark findings” that prove “remarkable effectiveness” of COVID-19 vaccinations. For instance, the Senior Vice President at Pfizer said in a press release, “These pivotal data demonstrate that our COVID-19 vaccine candidate is highly effective in preventing COVID-19 disease and is generally well-tolerated.”

These are the kinds of statements that get passed along and channeled as a summary to the public, without reference to any of the nuanced issues above. That seems, in my mind, a disservice to a public that deserves a full risk/benefit profile so they can make an educated choice in the spirit of true “informed consent.” How are they to do this if presented with an overly glowing report of the benefits?  

Although the pace of development has been heralded as a triumph of science, some continue to worry that this greatly accelerated approval process has sacrificed too much caution. Dr. Anthony Fauci himself has raised this kind of a concern months ago, sharing in one CBS interview his worry that UK regulators “just took the data from the Pfizer company and instead of scrutinizing it really, really carefully [t]hey said, ‘OK, let’s approve it. That’s it.’”

The key point to underscore here is the importance of humility, and recognizing that even our best medical trials are limited in what they can uncover – all of which means there is a potential for us to be mistaken and misled. As Dr. Cohen summarized several years ago, conventional research protocol focused on “initial, ‘selective’ action” can potentially distract and draw attention away from the “more extensive picture of complex, rippling [effects]” of any intervention.

Even with longer periods of time, these kinds of randomized, controlled trials simply aren’t designed to assess the full scope of an intervention’s effects. That’s why, as Dr. David Jacobs pointed out nearly two decades ago, there is so often a “disparity which exists between side effects established in randomized, placebo-controlled clinical trials” versus a “much broader range and severity of adverse drug reaction reports which emanate from non-RCT formats.”

That includes more nuanced emotional, mental, and psychological effects that may arise in the months or years following a health intervention, but which are simply not monitored in preliminary shorter-term studies. Consequently, Dr. Jacobs went on to note, it often appears that effects from medical interventions “in the realm of psychosocial functioning are ruled out in clinical trials … by virtue of non-investigation.”

As reflected above, some harbor concern that these trials are not set-up to assess long-term effects, more serious adverse effects, and older populations.  Of course, if rigorous research evidence ultimately shows a vaccine to be effective over time, with acceptable side-effects, then such information should be broadly disseminated. Whether or not the existing evidence has reached that threshold is what every one of us must now decide. 

The post What Does It Mean to Be “Effective”? appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Fyodor Dostoevsky’s masterpiece Crime and Punishment tells the story of Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov, a bitter, impoverished young law school dropout who has the sense that he is too brilliant for the rest of the world. His conflicted morals lead him to murder a miserly old pawnbroker and her sister—the pawnbroker because he thinks the world will be better without her taking advantage of others, and the sister because she has the misfortune of walking in on the crime. Raskolnikov, miserable with guilt, paranoid, and confused, finds an unlikely supporter in Sonya, a devout Christian young woman who is forced to prostitute herself to care for her family in the absence of her drunk, and later dead, father. Despite considering Sonya a “religious fanatic,” Raskolnikov asks her to read the Bible to him, finding comfort in the story of Christ raising Lazarus from the dead. Through Sonya’s love and guidance, Raskolnikov turns himself in to the police and eventually begins his road to redemption.

This is the good news of the gospel: that we are utterly, unequivocally redeemable – even (and especially) when everything feels lost. Regardless, Jesus Christ bids every single one of us to come unto him and be made whole. The murderer, the jealous brothers who sold their brother into slavery, the prophet who rejected God’s call, the adulterer, the ne’er do well son—none are too far gone. We are all children of the Almighty God. We can all embrace the fresh start that the gospel offers.

Essential to redemption is, of course, forgiveness—not just that we can be forgiven, but that we must forgive. The Lord does not mince words on this subject. “I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men” (D&C 65:10). 

This year has brought out a unique kind of hatred – and not just between people. Twitter last week, started an advertising campaign highlighting what they described as “Screw 2020” tweets. While Netflix has thrown together a star-studded comedy calling for “Death to 2020.”

It’s been nearly impossible, as this tough year has come to a close, to ignore the way 2020 has been anthropomorphized to collectively receive all of our hate.

So as we seek to move into a new year, it may be time to dust off one of the most durable of Christian principles and apply it in a rather unique way. Let’s forgive 2020.  

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has called forgiveness “central to the grandeur of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.” And in their new book, All Things New: Rethinking Sin, Salvation, and Everything in Between, Terryl and Fiona Givens write: 

Regardless of my personal sanctity or righteousness, I cannot experience a celestial existence if love does not flow without inhibition between myself and all members of that heavenly community. Because … loving relationships are not preparation for heaven— they constitute heaven. In a very real sense, our own willingness to set aside our hurts and injuries has a direct, essential bearing on the quality of that heaven enjoyed by others—and vice versa.

Likewise, in Surprised by Hope, N.T. Wright describes forgiveness as “a way of life, God’s way of life, God’s way to life.” He continues:

If you close your heart to forgiveness, why, then you close your heart to forgiveness. That is the point of the terrifying parable in Matthew 18, about the slave who had been forgiven millions but then dragged a colleague into court to settle a debt of a few pence. If you lock up the piano because you don’t want to play to somebody else, how can God play to you? That is why we pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” That isn’t a bargain we make with God. It’s a fact of human life. Not to forgive is to shut down a faculty in the innermost person, which happens to be the same faculty that can receive God’s forgiveness.

When we choose to forgive, then, it does not just serve the person whom we are forgiving. In fact, the primary beneficiary may actually be ourselves, as we are freed from the burden of anger and we become more like our Heavenly Parents.

As applied to 2020 then, we don’t need to force ourselves into looking for faux-silver linings, we rather need to open our hearts to moving on.

As 2020, a year of sickness, death, contention, injustice, suffering, isolation, and exhaustion, comes to a close, we all need the fresh start that the gospel brings. We all need forgiveness and redemption. For those of us inclined to write goals and resolutions for the new year, perhaps then we could expand the forgiveness of the year to find opportunities to forgive others around us too.  

Forgiveness for your anti-masker brother-in-law. Forgiveness for your neighbor, who thinks your small business should stay closed to contain the spread of the virus. Forgiveness for the CEO who didn’t take a pay cut and instead took away Christmas bonuses. Forgiveness for the person who said your protest was the wrong kind. Forgiveness for the Biden voter. Forgiveness for the Trump voter. Forgiveness for a co-religionist who said something insensitive or unkind or judgemental about your gender or race or politics. Forgiveness for the family member who is quick to judge and slow to listen. 

All of them.  How would that feel?  

We all need a fresh start – a new life – in 2021. If forgiveness is God’s way to life, then let’s take Him seriously and embrace this gift, letting go of what has come, so we can receive something new in the year to come. 

The post Let’s Forgive 2020 appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

To baby boomers, millennials seemed entitled in the workplace and won the nickname “Snowflakes” from their elders. Millennials invented the hashtag #OKBoomer to clap back at these elders who called them flaky. 

Here are some examples:

Covid-19 Kills the Elderly and Spares the Young

By March 2020, it had already become painfully obvious that the older you are the more likely you are to die from Covid-19. 

Weary of the world the Boomers had left them and tired of being called snowflakes, some youngers seemed even to anticipate Covid-19 more rapidly ridding them of the irritating older folk. As Covid became better understood last March, #BoomerRemover hit Twitter.

Historian Barbara Tuchman’s brilliant book, A Distant Mirror, shows us how much worse things could be. In discussing the “Black Death” pandemic in Europe in the mid-14th century, she said, “… it seemed as if one sick person could infect the whole world. …Agnolo di Tura, a chronicler of Siena, recorded the fear of contagion that froze every other instinct. ‘Father abandoned child, wife husband, one brother another …’” We have already seen with Coronavirus that when medical services become overwhelmed, the elderly are abandoned but we’re doing much better than they did in the Middle Ages. At least for now.

In the meanwhile, both elders and youngers have continued suffering, with isolation taking its toll on everyone. The elderly in nursing homes became suddenly bereft of visitors and even nursing staff stopped socializing with them. Some with brain dysfunction had no idea what had happened—they just knew they were suddenly, inexplicably alone. Elders who live at home were cut off from family visits and gatherings. Caregivers began to realize that the elderly were possibly dying of isolation, not just the coronavirus.

The effects of COVID-19 began to impact generations differently. Those who were younger were more prone to economic and educational disasters, and isolation began to cause despair for them, too. While parents were trying to do their best with both types of challenges and handle their newly ever-present kids, who were kept from attending school and playing with friends.

Commentators took notice of the fraying relationships between generations (and other divides too) made worse by the pandemic. As Jeff Green wrote for Bloomberg: 

The deadly outbreak has escalated the tension between generations, as some young people not-so-jokingly referred to the deadly virus as “#BoomerRemover” because it is most deadly in older people—with the not-so-surprising baby boomer backlash against college students who continued to “#CoronaParty” on spring break as other people died. And as more white-collar workers are able to keep their jobs and work from home, the growing ranks of unemployed, uninsured hourly workers are finding fresh outrages in the potentially fatal gap between haves and have nots.

These trends were made worse by the recent direction of much of American life: 

1. Families don’t live in multi-generational households like they used to and often Elders are miles away from their children and grandchildren. Technology helps, but not enough to keep people from feeling isolated. (This may be changing a bit due to the great recession, but that shift back to multi-generational households is not necessarily considered a good thing.)
2. Families are smaller. When family support depends on one or two people, that support can easily fail. Providing support is more difficult than ever during a pandemic. Because more couples are having one or no children and more people are choosing not to marry at all, when the next pandemic comes around, more elderly people will have even less family at all to lean on for support.
3. It’s fair to say that among many today, Elders are also no longer valued for their wisdom and knowledge and have been even more marginalized by advances in technology which have created a huge gap between those who have mastered it and Elders who have no clue. 
4. Mores have changed radically. Youngers typically assume elders have little wisdom regarding postmodern morality, cohabitation, or sexual fluidity. 
5. Youngers have less knowledge of history. Since they are not aware of what their elders have lived through (see #3), they miss out on important lessons that have come from those experiences

How Latter-day Saint Conviction Disrupts These Patterns

It’s not too broad of a generalization to say that the generational disunity afflicting America is not impacting committed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to the same degree. The reasons should be cautionary and exemplary for observers.

1. Latter-day Saints have larger families. This increases the amount of support in the nuclear family and the extended family, decreases the possibility of loneliness, and even increases the possibility of financial help within an extended family. Focus on the family as the most important thing in life keeps the center strong and the orbiting family members close. The image below is of Prophet Russell M. Nelson’s family (and no, there’s no polygamy involved).
2. There is a moral structure that continues from generation to generation because the laws to which the LDS community looks are both biblical and eternal. Since Latter-day Saints have always been marriage-centered, Zoomers are less inclined to dismiss their elders for not approving of “updated” sexual mores. Grandma will indeed have something to say to her granddaughters about striving to be modest and chaste since her granddaughters are seeking to make eternal covenants in a Latter-day Saint temple. So, there is no generation gap where that is concerned. Against such a holy backdrop, the wisdom of elders is constantly reaffirmed as valuable and present. Since the Word of Wisdom (the proscription against using alcohol, tea, coffee, tobacco, and recreational drugs) is a century old, there is common ground on this subject, too.
3.  Latter-day Saint doctrine teaches that “families can be together forever.” That the family structure can be eternal in the highest reaches of heaven increases cohesiveness and loyalty as well as the drive to work out problems and misunderstandings that can interfere. Because of its focus on eternal families, the Church promotes family history work as a saving effort. The benefits of performing family history work include some that might be downright surprising for an unbelieving world. One such benefit is that it helps older people become more tech-savvy. Elders often have the time and interest to do family history work, and that work has largely moved into the digital age. This work also creates a family story that embraces family members of all ages. A 2013 Elaine Reese article in the Atlantic describes the many benefits of having a family story:
   

   Over the last 25 years, a small canon of research on family storytelling shows that when parents share more family stories with their children—especially when they tell those stories in a detailed and responsive way—their children benefit in a host of ways. For instance, experimental studies show that when parents learn to reminisce about everyday events with their preschool children in more detailed ways, their children tell richer, more complete narratives to other adults one to two years later compared to children whose parents didn’t learn the new reminiscing techniques. Children of the parents who learned new ways to reminisce also demonstrate better understanding of other people’s thoughts and emotions. These advanced narrative and emotional skills serve children well in the school years when reading complex material and learning to get along with others. In the preteen years, children whose families collaboratively discuss everyday events and family history more often have higher self-esteem and stronger self-concepts. And adolescents with a stronger knowledge of family history have more robust identities, better coping skills, and lower rates of depression and anxiety. Family storytelling can help a child grow into a teen who feels connected to the important people in her life.

4. While many younger people are falling into despair during the pandemic, young people with a strong sense of their family story (and faith, more broadly) have more to work with. Many new converts know nothing of their ancestors and have little awareness of their family story. But even in foreign, exotic cultures, they are happy to adopt the story of the “Mormon” pioneers. Observers of the Church have commented that Latter-day Saints have managed to become “a people, not just a religion” as have the Jews with their much-longer history and experience with persecution. This sense of “peoplehood” is an important part of the story that grounds members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
5. While Latter-day Saints have many reasons to not discount the older generations, they similarly seek to value the young. Their large familiar missionary force which represents the faith around the world is composed almost entirely of eighteen to twenty-one year olds. Latter-day Saints invite these missionaries (the men which are called “Elders”) into their homes to be taught the gospel. These representatives of the faith which bookend the stages of life serve to create unity and respect among ages.      
6. While worldly America has come to devalue the wisdom and knowledge of its elders as being impertinent to their modern experience, in the Church, it’s just the opposite. First of all, we have a lay clergy and the “callings” or positions of service and leadership in the Church have not changed in essence over time. An 80-year-old great-grandfather who has been a bishop twice will have plenty of valuable advice for his great-grandson now newly-called to be a bishop himself. The same man has had myriad spiritual experiences and stories about using his priesthood power that can enlighten younger men and boys—and they know it.

Some in the world question why the principal leaders in the Church are so old. Combined they have nearly 1200 years of experience. 

Before these men were called from a lay clergy to serve as church leaders for the rest of their lives, they followed a variety of professions.  President Russell M. Nelson  was a noted heart surgeon and Apostle Dale G. Renlund was also a cardiologist. Several apostles were lawyers or judges and others were successful in business or education. Dieter F. Uchtdorf, who is German, was a fighter pilot and an executive with Lufthansa Airlines. Because of this, they are well-informed and worldly-wise. They are greatly respected in our community for both their worldly success and knowledge and their spiritual maturity and wisdom. 

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said this about the aged leaders of the Church in a 2006 conference talk: 

… not often but over the years some sources have suggested that the Brethren are out of touch in their declarations, that they don’t know the issues, that some of their policies and practices are out-of-date, not relevant to our times.

As the least of those who have been sustained by you to witness the guidance of this Church firsthand, I say with all the fervor of my soul that never in my personal or professional life have I ever associated with any group who are so in touch, who know so profoundly the issues facing us, who look so deeply into the old, stay so open to the new, and weigh so carefully, thoughtfully, and prayerfully everything in between.

No, you will never hear a committed Latter-day Saint say after hearing an apostle speak, “#OKBoomer.” Should one of these elders fall prey to Covid-19, veritably the entire church will fast, pray, and worry for him. Neither will you ever hear a committed Latter-day Saint say, “Never mind, Covid is our #BoomerRemover.”

We know better. Not because we are better.  But because we’ve relished a better—“more excellent way” —that looks to God (and those who have sought His ways for many years) to help us find the same path ourselves. As a result, the benefits of a truly multi-generational community accrue and arise naturally—in every direction.  

If that’s something attractive to you, come join the fun. There’s an important place in this enormous family saved just for you.

The post Reckoning with the Generational Estrangement of the Covid age appeared first on Public Square Magazine.