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Years ago, as I was running errands with my minivan full of little children, I checked my rearview mirror. I saw the traffic behind me, but I also saw the sweet little faces of my kids. For some reason, that quick glance—which was such a simple thing on an ordinary day—resulted in an overwhelming sensation coming over me. It was so distinct that I still remember the exact location where it occurred. It’s difficult to describe, but the best I can say is that it was a rush of gratitude. I felt gratitude for the law of chastity—reserving sexual relations for marriage—and for those who had taught it to me. Also, gratitude for my younger self who had trusted in it so I could experience the good fruits it bore as I married and had children.

Louise Perry

In an earlier article, I wrote about society’s need for righteous fathers, and I relied heavily on the book The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, which is a lesson from Louise Perry. Perry argues that women and children have paid a disproportionate price in the fallout of crumbling marriage norms over the last several decades. While working at a rape crisis center in her twenties, she began questioning the modern secular norms she had previously absorbed. Eventually, she became convinced that Christian sexual ethics work, although she was not persuaded by Christianity’s supernatural claims. 

I found Perry’s writing compelling and have continued to follow her online. Over the last several months, I’ve noticed, as have others, that there’s been a transformation in Perry’s relationship to Christianity. It’s moved beyond a sociological appreciation. In an interview earlier this year, she said:

“I kind of think of myself as an agnostic Christian. I go to church. Some weeks I believe and some weeks I don’t but one of the things that my husband and I have committed to do—he’s in the same boat as me—is, we are so convinced that it’s sociologically true and we would so like it to be supernaturally true, that we want to give our children the best chance possible of believing both truths and the way to do that, I think, is to expose them to Christians.”

And then, in a more recent interview, she said: 

“And … since writing the book, I have become Christian and have become much … more willing to make these arguments in theological terms. One of the reasons that I ended up becoming Christian is because I realized if it were supernaturally true, you would expect it to be sociologically true. And observing quite how sociologically true it is was very persuasive to me.”

From Hesitation to Witness

It’s interesting to note that Perry married her husband in 2017 and published her book in 2022 between the births of her two sons in 2021 and 2024. She credits her time at the crisis center for initially opening her up to Christian sexual ethics, but the process of becoming a Christian coincided with her early years of motherhood. Perry said she wanted to give her children “the best chance.” Her children were a motivation for her—a common human experience that many of us have as we take on the responsibility of precious souls.

I’ve thought a great deal about Perry’s experience of being drawn to Christian sexual ethics as a young secular thinker, and it has caused me introspection. How many times have I remained quiet about gospel teachings about marriage and sexuality because I assumed they were the least popular aspects of my faith? How often have I jumped to hasty conclusions about who may or may not be receptive to the Latter-day Saint doctrine of the family? 

We live in a confusing world, and many norms that we once took for granted are being challenged. In Quebec, three men recently adopted a three-year-old girl in a case that is described as a first in Canada. In May 2025, a journal article put out by the American Sociological Association argued that childhood sexual innocence is a “colonial fiction” and that “childhood pleasure is indispensable for an inclusive sociology.” Marriage and birth rates are falling throughout the world. These are just a few of the indicators that point to an obscuring of the divine vision of the family—and Latter-day Saints aren’t the only ones noticing. Many people are feeling the divine tug of truth about the family unit and are participating in conversations about how to safeguard it. 

There will continue to be opposition, and likely even attempts to silence defenders of the family. Still, as Latter-day Saints, we can—and should—join in efforts that foster the flourishing of families. And in the process, we will be strengthened by others, like Louise Perry. They offer fresh outlooks that can inspire us to be more enthusiastic about the eternal truths about family structure that we may have taken for granted. 

The post The Secular Feminist Who Tested Christian Ethics—and Stayed appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Or so I thought. I had no idea what that meant; the term seemed obscure and a bit strange—though by all appearances they were as mainstream as anyone. 

Later, when I was formally introduced to the Church and—under the influence of the Holy Ghost—taught by missionaries, I was gobsmacked. I had no idea that the so-nicknamed “Mormon Church” was in fact the original Church of Jesus Christ—the one He established anciently—restored anew in our day by Jesus himself. Nor was I aware, consequently, that the “gospel”—the teachings as contained in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—was no less than God’s plan for the happiness of all His children, all humankind upon the earth.

So, I rejoiced in the autumn of 2018 when President Russell M. Nelson introduced the Church’s name correction and the direction for all, from that point forward, to use the full name of the Church—that the word “Mormon” is not to be used to describe us, and the phrase “Mormonism” is also inappropriate. 

And can you imagine, after my own experience, how particularly significant was his statement that “For much of the world, the Lord’s Church is presently disguised as the “Mormon Church”?  

Another distinctive thing in President Nelson’s talk that caught my attention was a footnote discussing the ancient Church of Jesus Christ, suggesting a striking parallel to what we see happening today with the modern Church—nicknames applied to its members, often as pejoratives. As he wrote:

Other epithets seem to have occurred in New Testament times. During the Apostle Paul’s trial before Felix, Paul was said to be “a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes” (Acts 24:5). Regarding the use of the phrase “of the Nazarenes,” one commentator wrote: “This was the name usually given to Christians by way of contempt. They were so called because Jesus was of Nazareth.” Similarly, another commentator states: “As our Lord was contemptuously called ‘The Nazarene’ (Matt. xxvi. 71), so the Jews designated his disciples ‘Nazarenes.’ They would not admit that they were Christians, i.e. disciples of the Messiah” (Albert Barnes, Notes, Explanatory and Practical, on the Acts of the Apostles [1937], 313, and The Pulpit Commentary: The Acts of the Apostles, ed. H. D. M. Spence and Joseph S. Exell [1884], 2:231).” 

The word “Mormons,” invented in the 1830s by bitter detractors, was used in the same way the word “Nazarenes” labeled the members of the ancient church—hurled forth as an epithet, a denigration, a sometime demonization, and consistently employed for the same purposes by their successor critics for over 190 years, even to this day. Meanwhile, the Church, whom God referred to as the “Church of Christ” in initial revelations and then as “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,” was officially and unmistakably titled with the name of Christ—even from its beginning, even throughout. This is documented history. 

The footnote also calls to mind the odd comfort which some seem to have in referring to members of the Church by any other name than the authorized one that includes the name of deity—particularly the Son of God; and similar comfort with pejoratively used nicknames. 

It has been fascinating to observe the reaction of those both in and out of the Church to this major adjustment—mostly positive, some negative; and the peculiar reluctance of some to willingly adapt. For focus here I’ll divide the response of those critical of the name correction into three groups: First, a minority of people external to our faith who customarily express loud criticism of the Church and take hard shots at it on a regular basis; and second, a similar minority internally who do the same—some to a lesser degree. A third group would be all those who expressed relatively mild, sincere concerns. The first two groups openly resisted the change, and it is remarkable how similar are their arguments. 

A closer look at each is helpful for clarity. Situated on the extreme end of both of these first two groups are those who, for inexplicable reasons, seem obsessed with habitually criticizing, pounding, and denigrating the restored Church of Jesus Christ—its leaders, history, practices, culture, and active members, even engaging in mockery and religious bigotry. They are found on websites, blogs, podcasts, YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, and other social media channels, hurling ridicule and castigations—in some cases for profit. They dress up videos with dark memes and sinister music. They throw in misleading catchlines as clickbait for the ignorant and unwary. They create juvenile jump scares casting doubt on the Church and its history, portraying everything related to the Church in the worst possible light. 

Some—with the same objectives—use tamer approaches. They present dubious arguments under soft voices of seeming thoughtfulness, with favorite-aunt/uncle-like personas. They portray images of unbiased, arms-length, caring commentators—this while engaged in Oprah-like, exhausting, tell-all “interviews” with the disgruntled and disaffected. They trot out supposed historical and scientific “authorities” who carry with them their obvious agendas and veiled angst against the Church—always with preconceived negative assumptions about its divine authenticity, always leading to predictably false conclusions. Many assume credibility by citing their previous or current membership in the Church; some tout their academic credentials. Yet these “hosts,” united with their “guests,” offer little substance, only variations-on-a-theme: carping criticism of the Church. 

All these, day after day, pummel away—in some respects like bullies in a schoolyard. 

What is one of the singular characteristics of the everyday campus bully? He won’t use your name. He calls you by a pejorative nickname, to depersonalize, diminish and marginalize you, and to seemingly justify his abuse—to signal to all that, given who he says you are, you deserve it. 

And isn’t it revealing that the same antagonist never wants to let go of those labels? 

And now consider the effect of those labels becoming increasingly obsolete …

Deep detractors, who once held a full grip on this heavy bashing tool—the words “Mormonism” and “Mormon”—are incredulous today finding it suddenly pulled out of their hands. Now you see them flailing semi-desperate to re-grasp it or frenetically reaching for other clubs, and immediately finding those weapons less useful, less effective, and—for those deliberately ignoring the name correction—finding themselves, rhetorically speaking, sidelined—hopelessly out of context. It’s as if they must have those “m” words, those labels, to keep the gig going. And perhaps, they believe, for relevance? 

Those inside the faith who on a milder basis critique or criticize the Church are found in the same forms of media, and some in the press. As practicing members, many engage in reasoned discussion and commentary about cultural or social issues within the faith—much of it positive. They run the gamut from benign observers to more vigorous commentators with larger audiences; a number of these, too, exhibited skepticism and even some resistance to the name correction. 

Yet when examining in-depth the arguments made against the name adjustment or its feasibility—by any of these groups—one discovers that not only are they basically the same but contain much of the same shaky reasoning. 

1) “Using the full name is not practical; the older, shorter references were so handy.” (“Mormon” and “Mormonism” were convenient little words for all of us, weren’t they?) Yet to date, friendly or neutral writers and commentators seem to have little problem adjusting to the longer, authentic name. For journalists, the common, long-standing practice when handling lengthier proper names in a news story or essay is to simply cite the longer name first—once—and then shorter, acceptable, secondary names thereafter. And when we think of the meaning of “acceptable” we also, in all fairness, assume this means acceptable to the organization or church of mention. For this purpose, the Church sincerely yet specifically asks that the alternatives “Latter-day Saints” or “the Church” be used.

2) Some writers take issue with the phrase “the Church” saying it implies the only church or the “one true church”—and that ‘it is not their job to promote the truth claims of any faith.’ Yet witness how the media typically covers the Catholic Church. In-depth articles include repeated references such as “the church” or “within the church” etc.—but by doing so journalists are hardly accused of advocating or adjudicating faith claims of one church over another. 

Some quibble with using the shorter title “the Church of Jesus Christ” for the same reason—and also, for some, because they think the reference fails to distinguish us as a church, given that hundreds of churches around the world use the name of Christ in their titles. Yet if the full, distinctive name is first cited, this is clearly a moot point, especially given that it is only recommended as one choice among appropriate secondary references. 

3) Some say, “The previous, more familiar terms are what our readers (or listeners) already know. Our job is to serve them.” Yet is it not for readers to know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the actual name of this Church? Should the public audience consistently be given substitute references, names not currently authorized by the church of note? And references that not only can potentially confuse the audience, but also mislabel an entire global church and its individual members, and may well invite unwary, unintentional disrespect? Could it be that, by so doing, many readers are in fact misled? 

Al Tompkins, who teaches both journalism and ethics as Senior Faculty at the Poynter Institute—a globally-renowned school for journalism—commented on the Church’s name correction and its specific, related guidance, advising writers: “You may say, ‘Wait, who are you to tell me what to call it?’ I’m only telling you to call it what it is, what the proper noun of it is. Who am I (as a journalist)? I’m here to identify you. If it’s your name, it’s your name … this is an issue of accuracy, an issue of clarity, and in some ways an issue of respect.” 

In a society insistent on the absolute necessity of calling individuals by their preferred pronoun (even if those preferences shift), surely the same courtesy can be given to an entire church. 

4) Another claim: “The Presidents of the Church contradict each other on this issue, particularly President Gordon B. Hinckley and the current prophet, President Nelson.” It is evident from President Hinckley’s writings and speeches that he seriously reflected on this matter over the years—with a variety of related thoughts. While exhibiting an expansive, media-friendly outreach, he clearly sought for the Church to be known throughout the world by the full name that the Lord himself gave it (see Doctrine and Covenants 115:4). In an interview with Suzanne Evens of BBC Radio 5 in the fall of 1996, he personally declared: “We are Christians. No church in the world speaks up with a stronger witness of the divinity of the Lord Jesus Christ as the Son of God and the Redeemer of the world than does this Church, which carries His name—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” (italics added).

The fact that Latter-day Saints believe the Lord, for His own reasons, moved inspirationally upon His current prophet—President Nelson—to this degree on this issue at this time does not put our leaders in contradiction with each other. After all, Latter-day Saints believe in living prophets for a living church.

My sense is that in the past when the Church embraced the nickname “Mormon” (never officially or completely—even the “Meet the Mormons” film and many “I’m a Mormon” videos either mentioned or displayed the full name of the Church), one worthy purpose was to help give the old term an improved connotation. 

By design, so many who have insisted upon the negative, ubiquitous, substitute usage have attempted to cloud the real name and clear focus of the Church of Jesus Christ, and, to a degree, consequently clouded His name—as similar detractors attempt today. Subsequent increasing tolerance for, familiarity with, and usage of these and related terms (though well-intentioned), nonetheless still left the real name obscured—acting somewhat like a filter.  

“Mormonism” is out. Another bold, specific, inescapable aspect of the announcement, with all the earmarks of a shoutout to historians (as well as other authors, writers, and speakers), was the declaration of the First Presidency that the word “Mormonism,” previously put to use to describe the “doctrine, culture and lifestyle unique to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” is not appropriate and “should not be used.” 

And let us not forget: President Nelson also unflinchingly declared that all this direction, and these corrections, are a revelation from the Lord—and “His will.” 

Many of those who expressed milder, understandable concerns are primarily people who felt sincere personal, cultural, identifying affinity with the previous nicknames used for so many years. Among these are members of the Church who always viewed themselves as disciples and followers of Christ. Perhaps we all can relate to the feelings of Andrew Marshall of Silver Spring, MD, who, after the implementation of this change, said: “When I was baptized, I believe I really did take the name of Jesus upon me. In some ways, my identity was subsumed in his. As I’ve thought more about being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I felt that a bit more deeply.” 

As one studies President Nelson’s pivotal October 2018 Conference talk and subsequent teachings, companion sermons, writings, and interviews of several other apostles over three and one-half years, as well as the initial announcement, accompanying style guide, and other reference material available on the Church’s website, it becomes clear that this change is not a mere plea for “emphasis.” Rather, it is a pointed, deep, permanent, macro change—well thought out, and, to this day, thoroughly and persistently executed. 

Though initially, some said, perhaps reflexively, “It won’t last” or “We’ve seen this before,” yet it’s hard now not to observe the many permanent, significant alterations and additions. The vital domain name change to churchofjesuschrist.com/org, the Christus image in the new Church symbol, the newly crowned, “Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square,” and, as Elder Neal L. Anderson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “more than one thousand products that had the name “Mormon” or “LDS” attached to them … renamed,” evidence only the beginning of efforts too lengthy to list. 

The amount of work required is staggering. As President Nelson said: “It’s a challenge to undo tradition of more than 100 years.” Think of the extraordinary efforts on the Internet and within vast knowledge databases—altering innumerable lines of code and countless titles and naming conventions, this in a church that has long embraced advancing technology. This mission continues as an ongoing work in progress.  

Now, more good news: the continuing reports of the courteous reaction among much of the press—along with many fellow Christians and our friends in other faiths. Though  some recent national Church-related stories contained the previous names in their headlines, nevertheless the clear, overall trend is one of adjustment and respect.  

For example, a review of world press coverage over the first six months following the announcement revealed a respectful approach to both the topic itself and the Church’s view concerning it. As Bob Smietana of Religion News Service reported: “Outsiders, researchers, and reporters respected the religion’s right to self-identify, and many strived to follow its preferred style guide.” 

Richard J. Mouw, president emeritus of the Fuller Theological Seminary and a leading Evangelical writer and speaker, apparently reacting to a few early naysayers, remarked: “It’s hard to get worked up over this. Many churches ‘own’ labels expressing identities the rest of us also claim.” The Reverend Dr. Andrew Teal, Oxford chaplain and Christian religious scholar, said of the correction: “Initially, I thought, why use all these words when the singular Mormon might do? But now I see just how sloppy that would be, and the wisdom of that revelation to President Nelson.” Dr. Teal sees it as an emphasis on “eternal identity, that of belonging to the only name under Heaven conveying health and salvation.“

The needle continues to move: an in-depth study of news reports covering the first 24 months after the announcement found that those writing neutral or favorable articles about the Church—and there were many—tended to use the authorized references, and those authoring critical or unfavorable stories were inclined to resurrect the old terms. As time moves forward, the shift is more and more visible. One very recent scholarly essay on a Church history topic, written by a respected historian who initially resisted the change, repeated the term “Latter-day Saints” throughout most of his references—instead of the oft-used previous nicknames. For many members, it now feels strange that we ever called ourselves “Mormon,” especially given the new feel and focus of our accurate identity. We experience this as a welcome, new and permanent reality.  

And could it be, regarding social, information, and print media—including books and television—that we will soon arrive at the point (if we are not already there) where if one sees a new title or headline or content that includes the words “Mormon” and/or “Mormonism,” they will know immediately that criticism is coming—and likely from a source less-than-complimentary toward The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Where will this short-hand heuristic leave these authors or publications in the minds of their readers or listeners? 

Among the vast majority of active Latter-day Saints, these name clarification efforts, and emphasis on the Savior Jesus Christ—always so central to our faith—were met with joy and enthusiasm. Corrine Stokoe, Co-Director of Mint Arrow Messages Podcast summed up the feelings of many: “It seems like people right now are a little bit more open to making sure that they are correct in the way that they classify different groups. I feel like there’s more sensitivity toward that and openness to making sure that things are done properly. We hope you’ll understand why this is a really big deal to us.” And Steve Evans said, “I think that it really has caused me to focus a little bit more on Christ as the center point of my belief.” 

At the end of the day, we all inherently know that any group or institution has the right to change or correct their self-identification. In the spirit of kindness and goodwill and friendship which we all seek earnestly in the world, I humbly suggest that it behooves each of us, as fellow travelers here, either of press or public, from scholars to ordinary observers, to forever drop the terms “Mormonism” and “Mormon” and willingly call The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, its members, culture, and teachings—past and present—by their authorized names.

The post To Call Us By Our Name (A Reasonable Request In the Age of Authenticity) appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Sarah Jane Weaver was not wrong.

This week, the editor of Church News was blasted from two different directions—first, after publishing a strong essay by Elder Tad R. Callister, an emeritus general authority of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (arguing that family well-being is the root cause behind many social ills), and second, by issuing an apology to those criticizing the decision to feature such a piece (stating that largely that due to a holiday weekend, the normal editorial process had not been complete).

Like most public apologies, many things were left unsaid. And into that vacuum, rushed the passions on competing sides: (1) Hurrah for an important public figure in the Church acknowledging how harmful this kind of a message is! (overreaction and overstatement from the left) and (2) Can you believe a Church publication is caving so quickly to the woke mob— backing away from defending Church teachings boldly, precisely in a time when we need more of this? (overreaction and overstatement from the right).

Lost in the war of words that ensued—as is often the case with a “war of words”—is the actual truth of the matter, which is likely far less exciting than either side likes to imagine. And what is that?

Hear us out. We also edit articles each week.  And we love Elder Callister as much as any member of the Church. But like every article, we agree his could have been improved.

But it’s not always easy to find the time to do that right. Just yesterday, we acknowledged to someone who had reached out, ways one author’s article mischaracterized some events last year—and made an apology of our own for not catching the error.

Which is not the same thing as rejecting an article’s message as a whole.

Putting ourselves in Sarah’s shoes, for a moment, there are two specific edits we could have imagined suggesting to Elder Callister. First, we might say something like:

You are making an important point here in a timely article. But in lieu of this metaphorical line (“These ‘solutions’ are nothing less than time bombs wrapped with glitter and a glamorous bow.”)—which could be experienced as a “zinger,“ we’d propose something a little more descriptive, such as: “However great these attempted solutions may seem in the short-term, there are many reasons to believe their long-term consequence will be severe.” Then, the rest of the paragraph could continue largely unchanged, “Ultimately, the day of reckoning will come. One cannot circumvent God’s commands and expect to escape the divine consequences, regardless of how decorated the package may be or how cosmetically appealing the language may sound.”

Our second suggestion would be adding what we call a “but of course” paragraph that acknowledges some things you are not saying, but which you might be misunderstood as insinuating if not making certain things more explicit. For instance, he could add something like:

None of this is to suggest social programs or ambulances aren’t sometimes still necessary—and even crucial in many ways. When wounds are gaping, the God we worship certainly wants to attend to and minister to the afflicted.  And, of course, many of those wounded are hurting due to the actions of others—and not because of anything they have done (or not done). Among other things, the world’s betrayal of God’s laws generates endless traumatic victims of these larger unfortunate patterns—especially among women and children. Certainly, we need to continue supporting these victims compassionately—while still keeping our eyes on the root problems that generate so much heartache, and seeking corresponding, redemptive solutions.

We might also ask about the wisdom of quoting a polarizing figure in the former Trump administration within an official Church venue (although the quote is really quite profound).

Notice, these proposed edits would be designed to strengthen Elder Callister’s argument, rather than “cave” and somehow “recant” his core message (which some have speculated Sister Weaver was winking at in her apology).

We know Sarah to be a faithful woman who loves God, and who is doing a tremendous amount of good in the world. Our own Prophets on Pandemic article last year was made possible only because of her extensive work in generating a whole series of beautiful original articles elaborating extra prophetic insights and encouragement in those scary times.

And we are only one of millions who have been strengthened by Elder Callister’s powerful writing and speeches defending the authenticity and truth of the Book of Mormon—and uplifted by his public teaching and writing about the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

None of this record of prior goodness was reflected, however, in the fierce and ugly response to first Elder Callister’s article from one group of people, and then to Sarah’s apology from another group of people, both of whom deserve some additional scrutiny today. Rather than consider the kinds of sensible writing improvements any editor-not-on-vacation would have recommended, and instead of raising reasonable questions about how extensive her editing might have been, some decided this would be a good time, instead … to criticize Sister Weaver’s appearance.

That’s right.  “Defenders of the faith” going after someone’s physical appearance.

We’re not going to repeat or quote any of that here. We’re simply going to ask what should be a more obvious question to anyone involved:

Where is Jesus Christ in all of this tumult and anger?

Nowhere to be found.

To those who sincerely believe progressive hegemony has reached a dangerous point, we agree with you.  But if you’ve decided aggressive tactics are now necessary, we would simply ask you to reconsider what God is really asking us to do. Would the Lord’s prophet on earth—or Jesus Himself—approve what you are tweeting, emailing, and writing?

In the other direction, of course, there was plenty of vitriol that came Sarah’s way from those insisting The Church News take down the article. We’re sure there were many in this crowd with sensible and thoughtful questions of their own. And that is what we believe Sister Weaver was attempting to respond to, in good faith.

Yet we have to wonder: Would additional editing and smoothing of the message have substantially changed the public response the article received?

Maybe a little. Certainly, the acknowledgments would have helped those wondering what his message signaled to single mothers, those who experience same-sex attraction, etc. Especially in our world today, it’s hard to say too much about genuine, Christ-like love and compassion.

But it also seems abundantly clear that, even with the best of editing, the most effusive qualifications, and the smoothest of deliveries, many would still struggle mightily with the core message of the article.

That powerful message is, unfortunately, exactly what’s getting missed and misrepresented amidst all the furor (as is so often the case—shout-out to another recent controversy!).

In short, Elder Callister’s core message is going to be hard for anyone enamored with prevailing socio-political ideology to hear. Why?  Because his critique strikes at the heart of the dominant problem definitions of modern society.

Namely, “racism is the greatest problem we face today” (as one friend told us).  Or “climate change is the great challenge of our time.” Or “reigning in guns is the most urgent question facing America today.”

In response to that, Elder Callister’s caution was clear:

If you were asked, “What is the greatest challenge facing our nation today?” how would you respond? The economy, national security, immigration, gun control, poverty, racism, crime, pandemics, climate change? While each of these is a valid concern and deserves attention, I do not believe that any of them strikes at the heart of our greatest challenge—a return to family and moral values. To put our prime focus on other challenges is to strike at the leaves, not the root, of the problem.

His subsequent commentary (well-worth reading in its entirety) breaks down why this common way of thinking about problems may only make things worse.

That might hurt.  Especially if you’re one of the many who have invested so much of their time and energy in advancing solutions that take this problem definition for granted.

• Climate change ruining the world?  Let’s pour all our energy and money into stopping it!
• Racism or homophobia ruining young people’s lives? Let’s do everything we can to stand up to it! 

But what if these things are, as Elder Callister argues, actually worrisome symptoms, rather than the underlying causes?

That means all our tremendous expenditures of energy, however well-intentioned, could be misguided and ultimately, something we will regret.

If, that is, the longer-term well-being of society is our main concern.

In that case, Elder Callister was—from a Latter-day Saint perspective—sharing a truly loving message—“tough love, yes”—but loving nonetheless.

If your precious child is standing on the train tracks, and you see a train coming far in the distance, who among us wouldn’t raise a loud voice of warning?

That’s what Elder Callister did. And that’s why The Church News published it.

You might disagree with his analysis or their decision.  But let’s not pretend that any of them are trying to “hurt people.”  They—and we—earnestly believe this is a message the world needs to hear.

And we feel as passionately as any BLM or climate activist.

We may not ever agree on these things in America, and maybe that’s okay. As long as we continue having space to share our competing visions with each other, that allows individual citizens the precious chance to choose for themselves what they believe is true.

Rather than stifle and silence those sharing ideas some of us do not like, heaven knows, America could use all the best ideas on the table for how to move forward.

May the public square continue to be sacrosanct—and a place for all voices, especially unpopular ones, to be heard out.

The post The Mobs Now Come from Both Sides appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Make no mistake: though our Founders gave us their very best, they worshipped neither the free market nor the hand of government as the savior of society. Rather, they looked to God and the moral teachings of religion. Certainly, they understood the growth potential of capitalism within a government that secured and elevated individual freedom. But they relied on the social morality exemplified in Christ and intrinsic to Christian religion to first constrain and ultimately redirect the will to wealth and privilege and the will to power for the common good. With uncommon insight into human nature, the Founders directed their genius toward organizing political processes in a self-constraining system of mutual tug-of-war—a perpetual power struggle. In the marketplace, they relied on this same religiously-inspired social morality to temper and balance the law of the harvest with the responsibility to care for the poor. They knew, and forewarned, that unbridled avarice would erode social cohesion.

So, what is meant by this notion that our society can’t survive without religion and the sense of true social morality it engenders? We believe the moral influence of religion is the body politic’s immune response, the white blood cells that detect and subdue the epidemic excesses of unbridled capitalism and power politics that threaten our social health.

The Will to Wealth and Privilege

Capitalism, in its undiluted philosophical form, itself has no moral foundation per se, no constraints on its excesses which doom it to destruction. Capitalism is a secular, not spiritual invention, rooted in the idea that people are motivated by the law of the harvest, the right to the fruits of their labor. Untempered by religion’s promotion of empathy, filial fellowship, and social morality, capitalism sets up a shady shop, and legislatures and courts are forever just trying to ‘keep the fight fair’ between management and labor, shop owner and customer, one person and the next. The powerless and marginalized are forever vulnerable. Capitalism on its own is fueled by self-interest, Adam Smith’s “invisible hand” of greed. Personal profit—even when couched in global terms of economic growth—is the sole aim. Intemperate capitalism resists and eludes any restraint or regulation; it is economic Darwinism. Within capitalism itself, there is no self-regulating mechanism—it is inherently intemperate! 

In a sense, then, capitalism is the economic model suited to a fallen world, harnessing and yoking us together in aspirational and consumptive greed—replacing the lash of the tyrant. Yet, the fuel of capitalism is itself the seed of its own demise, left to itself a suicide pact disguised as a promise of prosperity. Rather than uniting us, an amoral compact of self-interest divides us into competitive tribes on the savannah of life. Self-interest is a motivation for individual striving, but an aspiration for collective, social morality is required for societies to thrive. Unrefined capitalism is unconcerned with such economic externalities—human, social, or environmental impact—all these being merely instruments or impediments to profitability. Where the balance sheet is the only, myopic consideration, society consumes itself—its people, its social cohesion, its environment.

What is it then that curtails that risk? We would argue the success, survival, and longevity of capitalism depend on being wedded to and domesticated by religious teachings concerning the brotherhood and sisterhood of humankind and the norms, ideals, and inherent constraints of social morality that accompany this perspective. In the absence of this bedrock belief and action, capitalism is built on the tectonic fault line of greed and it gradually, inexorably, and inevitably comes seismically crashing down on itself. Except by virtue of the civilizing influence of religion, there is little in the nature of capitalism to tether and constrain its avarice and excess, beyond the threat of mutually assured destruction. Recognizing the indispensability of religion’s social morality to rescuing us from these excesses, the Founders sought to unequivocally secure religion’s place and protection in our society through the very First Amendment of the Bill of Rights!”

Religiously infused capitalism, which is what our nation has practiced and prospered by throughout its economic history, is an ‘enlightened capitalism, helping to direct each actor, as well as government as a whole, in curtailing capitalism’s exploitive inclinations that, unchecked, rend our social fabric. The social morality tied to religion offers capitalism a transformative rebirth. As religious practice matures in an individual or nation, its morality not only tempers but altogether removes these egregious excesses. From the beginning, our collective sense of social morality borne of religious belief is what has reformed and refined capitalistic practice, safeguarded against the worst paths to personal gain, and purged its excesses—though less and less today, at our increasing peril. Absent this sense, at its amoral extreme capitalism becomes immoral and criminal. Raw capitalism is ever on the prowl for an exploitive edge—even a rapacious path to greatest gain. As the influence of religion and its social morality is increasingly peripheralized, our peril increases.

Social morality arising from religious faith is like the tethering string on a kite, seemingly holding it back while in truth it all the while holds it up, steadying it and allowing it to rise on the winds of aspiration and ambition—both sailing with and tacking against greed. Without that influence, of course, the kite is simply blown about and crashes to the ground. The Founders’ urging upon us the social morality of religion reminds us to not let go of the string—it doesn’t hold back capitalism, it holds it up!

The Will to Power

In the political sphere, the Founders also recognized the danger in humankind’s natural will to power. Their protective plan pitted power against power in multiple ways. First, we have the check and balancing of state and federal governments. State and federal powers were carefully enumerated, balanced, and arrayed in tension and competition. However, even at that time, Alexander Hamilton presciently predicted that the federal government was very likely to become a central power overshadowing the states, using its purse strings to hogtie state and local governance.

The erosion of state power vis a vis the federal government, commenced, in no small part, during the Lincoln presidency, but accelerated dramatically during the FDR years of national economic depression. Expansion of federal power began through the Commerce Clause, but has since continued through an ever-enlarging and apparently limitless Constitutional “penumbra.” This ongoing expansion has deeply undermined the Founders’ careful design and balancing of state and federal power with its checks and balances and other intended benefits. Unfortunately, the strings tied to federal largesse often hamstring state governments and experimentation, centralizing power and governance and making states largely vassal states to the centralized federal “monarchy.” [Expansion of federal power through the Commerce Clause of the Constitution and through the elimination of state legislatures’ ability to check the federal legislature through their right to appoint their own U.S. senators have combined to severely dilute state autonomy and states’ capacity to check federal overreach, except through the courts, as is practiced increasingly today].

Next, the Founders introduced competitive, marketplace pressure on state governments as a means of incentivizing states to develop and sustain governmental “best practices.” Given that citizens (and their enterprises) were to have the right of free movement among the states, they could literally vote with their feet, as well as at the ballot box—something we have seen much of in recent years (e.g., small businesses fleeing California and New York for greener pastures) as well as historically.

Choice creates competitive pressure among state governments—mini laboratories of self-governance. Within Constitutional limits, quasi-independent state governments were to be free to innovate and experiment to attract inward migration of labor and capital and to promote a contented, prosperous, and free society. States could readily observe what was tried, what worked, and what didn’t and work to maintain their competitive edge. The competitive marketplace of state governance creates pressure for good governance while delivering competitive value and pricing (state taxes) to the citizens of our country.

Another source of designed tension was the strict separation of judicial, legislative, and executive powers within the federal government, together with the deployment of a structure of checks and balances enabling each branch to protect its turf, as needed. The Founders were counting on the will to power.

Currently, the executive branch is gathering up power being ceded by the legislative branch. The pendulum has swung round, at various times, among the branches, but currently, Congress seems all too amenable—the President and the newly coronated and increasingly autonomous administrative branch providing political cover to elected representatives through governance by bureaucratic rule-making and executive orders. The Founders may actually have failed to anticipate the surrender of public ambition to private ambition—that personal will to power (to remain in office) would erode an entire branch’s will to protect its power. The judicial branch, too, dabbles in both legislative and executive type activity, straying from strict interpretation and application of law. All of this circumvents the Founders’ careful Constitutional design.

Finally and ultimately, the Founders pitted the people against the excesses of government and the government against the excesses of mob majority rule. At the ballot box and through what has proven over time to be the vital protections of the Bill of Rights (our ‘don’t tread on me’ declaration of the fundamental territory and tools of our freedom), the people have their own legal “standing” against their government. The Bill of Rights was our fortification against direct invasions and incursions of government power on individuals and groups. Conversely, through the buffering of representative governance, the government is arrayed against the tyrannies of mob majorities. The common element of every provision in our Constitutional government is an Adam Smith-like reliance on another “invisible hand”—that each entity would act in its own political self-interest to protect its own power and privilege. Check and balance was found in pitting ambition against ambition. With each element of government watchful and wary of territorial encroachment, ambition was enlisted to check ambition, put to work to check itself. But even the Founders’ careful, systematic checks and balances haven’t stopped parties and individuals from successfully exploiting political power for their own gain.

The Founders did foresee, though, that there would certainly be unforeseen fallibility in their “best-laid plans,” and they would fall short. The will to power is, after all, like running water that always finds its way downhill. As with the economic system, the fallback position again is the morality of the people, both in and out of government. They understood that if the time ever came where citizens and politicians grew prosperous and indifferent, nothing could save the country from a slow demise.

The Will to Thrive

In the inspired founding of our nation, the Founders pitted power against power, greed against greed, and religious morality against the both of them—and they warned that without religion, our freedom, prosperity, and peace would not endure. How easy it is for enterprise to turn to avarice, for patriotic governance to turn to paternal tyranny. The social morality of religion is also vulnerable to the corrosive influence of human fallibility and corruption. Still, religious ideals, anchored and exemplified in their own founding figures, tenaciously persevere through the fog of human shortcomings. Only the persistent, tempering influence of indomitable religious ideals—the fellowship of humankind and social morality—prevents society from backsliding to oppression and predation.

Religion, therefore, not government or the free market, is the wellspring and protector of freedom, agency, equality, and prosperity. A core tenet of religious faith, the germinal seed of social morality, is the Parenthood of God and the corresponding brotherhood and sisterhood of all human beings. Here is a belief with the power to organize our relationships with the love borne of being “family.” Fully embraced, this conviction holds the potential of eclipsing and finally erasing our tribal tendencies—whether based on race, ethnicity, culture, nationality or any other category of difference.

The Founders’ work is a study in paradox, simultaneously pessimistic because of their view of human nature, yet hopeful because of religion’s tempering and refining influence. Aware of human nature, they sought by “cynical” preparations and provisions to help protect us against ourselves—at least long enough to return to our senses when consequences begin to pile up. They studied the scope of history and sought to give us a reason for hope against the excesses that would be our natural inclinations, likely to play out in our economic and political choices.

Given all they saw across the scope of human history, and all they could foresee, the Founders approached the establishment of our nation with a dose of skepticism and in their precautions found hope—taking every measure to grant us liberty and help us keep it by squarely facing up to our individual and collective corruptibility. Paradoxically, their optimism came in part from acting on their pessimism for our protection. Ultimately though, and through it all, they saw our aspirational religion—a fully realized religion, not one modeled to indulge and justify our moral weaknesses or corruptions—as our true and lasting source of hope and possibility.

It is truly ironic that the genius of America’s founding arose from the Founders’ less than beatific, indeed pessimistic awareness of and attention to our inherent corruptibility—both political and economic. The paradox of their founding work is that in their attention to and provision of protections against human corruptibility and in their promotion of religion as foundational to the republic, they gave us a basis for hope and a context for striving for the better angels of our divine nature. When it came to human nature, the Founders saw the pervasiveness and contested actions of our mortal–spiritual dualism across the panorama of human history and learned from it, hoping to help us not repeat it. This fundamental and overarching view of human nature informed every particular of their Constitutional and economic design. And the context for corralling and working out our aspirational vision was to be the combination of all their designed Constitutional constraints, and the foundational social morality of religious faith—an embedded belief in a higher power and higher priorities for humankind.

While the marketplace and the public square always held the potential of bringing out the worst of human nature, religion would have the duty to tame these impulses and fashion reins of restraint through a shared social morality ethos springing from an ever-present mindfulness that “all human beings are created in the image of God,” reflecting a universal family connection, and accountability to God for our conduct in relation to one another.

For the Founders, the aspirational vision springing from religious teaching of the family and fellowship of humankind, of love for one another, and of action giving expression to these beliefs, was their final safeguard of our highest hopes. All their other careful designs were but safety net and scaffolding, yet this last and ultimate safeguard was one that only we ourselves could put in place. Only our will to the social morality of this shared faith could help us overcome our natural will to power, wealth, and pleasure and transform us into a nation of community, citizenship, and true social justice. In their minds, our ultimate potential as individuals, communities, and as a nation was to be found first in the bridling of our natural passions and then ultimately in their transformation. Religion was to be at first the reins upon our tribalistic tendencies and ultimately our liberation from them. That we have fallen woefully short of the ideals of human family and social morality borne of these principles of religious faith is abundantly clear. That we must reckon with this reality or lose our nation and our freedom is increasingly evident. That we can repent, forgive, and transform our nation through transforming ourselves, thereby preserving the design of our guiding institutions, and renewing our unifying belief in our human family is our only hope.

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