By Common Consent, a Mormon Blog

How to Forgive?

Wed, 30 Sep 2020 14:20:00 GMT

Today’s guest post is by Eric Hachenberger.

When the ‘Black Lives Matter’ movement took off last May, the US started to tear itself apart over one of its most fundamental conflicts again. At about the same time, church filmmaker Brian Faye gave us a sublime and personal message of reconnecting and forgiveness. In his vulnerable story, he tells us how after years of estrangement he was finally able to forgive and reconnect to his mother when she broke down in tears before him.

The stark contrast between these two messages got me thinking. Why is it often so hard for us to forgive?

In conflict, our first reactions to others are often violent retaliation or simply ending the relationship. Reconciliation is most often forgotten.

While protesters take quotes from Martin Luther King out of context, we can still remember that this man used the principles of Christianity to solve a huge conflict in a peaceful manner. And so can we in our homes, families, and communities – by forgiving.

Why we hold back forgiveness

When my dad sued my mum for financial reasons after their divorce, I broke with him. I refused to talk to him for weeks, then months, then years.

Before leaving on my mission, the former stake patriarch reminded me that walking the path of Christ required us to have “a love … of all men” (2. Nephi 31:20, emphasis added).

I didn’t think much of it at that time. Actually, I thought that my father wasn’t part of ‘all men.’ That somehow his actions had disqualified him from being worthy of my forgiveness. On some days, my thoughts brought me so far as to think forgiving him would somehow condone his mistakes.

How we misunderstand forgiveness

As I nevertheless struggled to build a new bridge to my father, I realized that Jesus’ statement to us “to forgive all men” is not a suggestion (D&C 64:10). It’s an imperative. And it’s a requirement to gain his forgiveness – without which, we should remember, we are utterly and eternally lost.

We struggle to forgive others because here we are on the other side of the atonement than usual.

We are pretty well versed when it comes to the ‘steps of repentance’. We repeat it often at church because we know in how dire need we are of a Savior.

Sadly, we haven’t developed an equally rich vocabulary for forgiveness.

When we have to forgive, we stand as if with Christ, having to allow and help others to repent. And we need to have faith that Christ can also heal the damage done to us.

The sin of the other person doesn’t disqualify them from Christ’s atonement.

But by thinking that it does and holding back forgiveness, we deny what Christ can do. We want to limit his power and therefore ‘remaineth in [us] the greater sin” (D&C 64:9).

How we may forgive

Forgiveness is hard. No doubt. The tension in my family is still palpable at times. But since my father and I rebuilt our relationship, I feel less burdened by the past.

So how can we do this?

Sometimes we are struck (like in Brian’s case) by the humanity of others. Their reality and divine nature sometimes break through the walls we have erected to keep them out.

But when we don’t want to wait for years and decades for these moments to happen, we have to become more proactive.

A lot of times we need to change our hearts before we can forgive. Therein lies the challenge and the opportunity. A challenge, because changing our hearts is difficult, but an opportunity, because it is all within our power.

We can start by seeing not only the other person’s weaknesses but also their virtues. These people are not only their worst decisions. They are complex and often blind to the pain they inflict. And they might not be the easiest to love. Yet we are commanded to love them. Distance makes it easier to hate. So we have to get closer again.

And we have to acknowledge that we have made it harder for them, too. That there surely are things we have done that have added to their pain. That they too are struggling and hurting.

Then we have to take that courageous step to be there for them. First by stopping to hate them and seeing only their worst sides. Then by serving them. And then, when we care for them, our hearts can transform. And theirs might too.

Strength to Love in Christ

The pivotal story in the conflict between Nephites and Lamanites is found in the mission of the Sons of Mosiah.

Instead of seeking the Lamanites’ destruction, they desired their salvation (Mosiah 28:3, Alma 26:25).

This desire didn’t come before they were deeply converted unto the Lord. And once they put it into action, it transformed lives (e.g. Alma 18:5).

As a result, half a nation reached out to their enemies with love (Alma 24).

It is by this love that we cure hatred (Mosiah 28:2, Alma 24:24,25).

And as Mormon admonishes, we should “pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that [we] may be filled with this love,” for it is the love of Christ (Moroni 7:48).

#TrumpTaxReturns on The Surly Subgroup

Tue, 29 Sep 2020 19:00:19 GMT

Image from 401kcalculator.org. CC BY-SA 2.0

As far as I know, the only news in the U.S. since Sunday has been the New York Times‘s investigation of leaked Trump tax returns. I certainly know that the first article Sunday evening definitively changed my work schedule for the week.

There’s a lot of information in the article, but there’s also a lot of additional context that tax people can bring to it. I’ve done a bunch of tweeting about the context, and just put my tweets together into a single blog post. (I’ll note that the tweets are better because they are GIF-filled, but the blog post is easier and, as a bonus, links to all of the tweets).

There’s nothing even remotely Mormon-y about this but, to the extent you’re interested in some further content and tax-y goodness, check out the Surly Subgroup.

The Giant Joshua – Chapters 13 and 14: Temple Celebrations and Private Despair

Mon, 28 Sep 2020 22:42:33 GMT

By Lynne Larson

[See below for the announcement of a Zoom event on October 11 where we will discuss Maurine Whipple and The Giant Joshua, featuring several people who knew Maurine, including Carol Lynn Pearson.]

“The building arose from the barren ground like a great white wedding cake. It was eighty-four feet high to the top of the parapet, battlemented like an old castle, and there was a hundred-and-thirty-five-foot tower on top of that . . . Long before the ceremonies were to start, a vast throng of people wandered around the block, squinted upward from the roadway, felt of the solid rock walls with their hands as if to bolster the evidence of their eyes. A temple that would cost a million dollars. The world would have said it couldn’t be done, and so they did it.”

Chapter Thirteen of The Giant Joshua contains one of the novel’s most stirring scenes, a portrait of the aging Brigham Young as he dedicates the temple which the Dixie Saints have worked so hard to build. It is April 1877, and the pioneer leader, with but four more months to live, has traveled to St. George to perform the ordinance. It is the first temple completed in Utah, which Brigham has yearned to see before his death. Maurine Whipple’s description of the cheering multitudes, of their breathless anticipation, of their tears at the prophet’s words, and of the man himself – “His eyes glinted beneath his brows, his white beard trembled . . . the skin of his cheeks stretched tightly over his bones”—is a remarkable gift to Mormon letters, to Mormon heritage, and to southern Utah.

“‘There are those now living who will see this valley thickly populated from ridge to ridge and from the red hill to the river.’

‘I see spires pointing heavenward and the Temple standing in the center of the valley, Utah’s Dixie at the head of the State instead of at the foot . . .’

‘I tell you we have no business here other than to build up and establish the Zion of our Lord, who holds the hearts of the living in His hands and turns them as the rivers are turned.’

“In his earnestness he smote the pulpit with his cane until the room rang. He looked down at the marks on the polished wood. ‘You can putty this up, smooth it over, paint it over, or leave it here as a testimony.’”

The marks were left in the pulpit and remain there today. Brigham Young’s words still ring as well. “Do not betray your heritage,” he told the people. “There are some here who will bring it glory . . . but to all of you I would say, ‘Love God and each other . . . I calculate to die in the harness.’”

Perhaps Maurine herself saw her literature as an answer to Brigham Young’s admonition to future generations to bring glory to their heritage. Whipple, through her artistry, did it with her pen. She ends the chapter this way,

“A strange stillness fell upon the sober old ones with their burdens of floods and governments and polygamy, upon the laughing young ones with their heads full of kisses and the ancient mystery of lying together. Wonder touched their faces as the hushed lines parted to let Brother Brigham’s chair go through. More than a tired old man had passed. An epoch had passed.”

In Chapter Fourteen, the Dixie Saints are tested by prosperity as the mines at Silver Reef offer a period of financial relief and even riches to those willing to invest in the strike. The silver boom also draws many of the town’s young men toward the higher paying jobs of the mining industry, and the dubious life awaiting them is a source of constant worry for Apostle Erastus Snow, and for Abijah MacIntyre, who is now president of the Temple.

A greater conflict for Clory in this chapter, however, is Abijah’s dark attitude toward his own children, especially his son Jimmie, who has always sensed his mother’s unhappiness and resented his father’s treatment of her. ‘Sheba, jealous of Clory’s young children, goads them into mischief, and then demands Abijah punish them. This, together with Abijah’s long absences because of his duties at the Temple, has left Clory feeling angry, lonely, and neglected. She thinks that the children might do better without Abijah if it meant they would also be free of ‘Sheba. And there are also hints that the bachelor Gottleib Uttley, who shows Clory his fine farm and is continuously solicitous of her, might be an option for her as well.

Then, too, there is Clory’s own health – her hands ruined from tanning the leather for the gloves she proudly makes – her grasp at independence. Abijah is fine with Clory losing that particular urge. But when the doctor tells Clory she has kidney trouble from bad water and shouldn’t have any more children, her husband is less sympathetic. “‘But Clor-rinda,’ he burred. ‘All those waiting tabernacles!’”

All these things, and many more (including a failed attempt to live the United Order), combine to push Clory to the edge. She returns home from her visit to Gottleib ready to tell Abijah that she is leaving, when word comes from Salt Lake City of Brother Brigham’s death. Perhaps Whipple, with her critical timing, is offering us a way to conclude our discussion of these chapters, reiterating the love the people had for their Prophet and power he had upon them.

“‘Oh, Abijah,’ she cried, blind to his ravaged face, the tears trickling into his beard. ‘I’ve come to tell you—–’

‘Clor-rinda!’ His voice was lost and helpless. ‘Brother Brigham is dead!’

He needed her. She went without a word.”

Historical notes, by Andrew Hall

Maurine Check-in

Maurine was in a productive phase in the Spring and Summer of 1940, determined to finish the novel by July, and producing a chapter every three weeks. A friend of hers, seeing her suffering in the oven-hot room of her parents’ St. George house, offered here the use of a hunting cabin on Beaver Mountain, a much cooler place at elevation 7500 feet. There she wrote Chapters 13 and 14 in May and June. She told Veda Hale about her time in the cabin, “When I became too groggy to focus, I would go outside and sit in the ditch. After a few days, my mother joined me, both to look after me and to get away from Papa. Mama fixed the meals, used cheese cloth to improvise a screen against insects, and swatted flies . . . And then Papa came. I remember how she looked when she saw him across the clearing and said she feared she’d have to go back with him. It was such a sad resignation. Oh, how I wished she would stand up to him.” Perhaps this incident inspired Maurine’s depiction of Clory pondering, and ultimately failing, to leave Abijah.

Maurine’s focus and detachment

May and June 1940 were the months of the Nazi invasion of France and the Low Countries, the evacuation of Dunkirk, and the surrender of France. In August Maurine visited her friends Joseph and Tina Walker in California, and Joseph (who also came from St. George) later commented to Maurine in a letter about how her immersion in the lives of the 19^th century pioneers caused her to hardly notice the outside world. Joseph, a doctor, could certainly turn a phrase himself.

“You were the most refreshing visitation that ever came to bless a few days for us. You see, we are living in very serious and very tragic times. Great tongues of flame lick their consuming way across the world, leaping oceans, mountains, and burning their way into the homes of the most humble, nor stopping at some sacred spot where stands the statue of Milton. Change vast and profound and with it the ever present and frightening element of surprise whips the human mind into world-wide jitters. All, all of the old substantialities are questioned and redefined; all of the ancient and sacred slogans are being either brushed aside or redefined . . . Democracy is questioned and spit upon; gone from all the public buildings in France is the ancient and stabilizing slogan, ‘Liberty, Fraternity, Equality’; while throughout the U.S. men hesitate to longer intone, ‘by the people, for the people and of the people.’ . . . Books flood the market and each one begs harder or threatens in more direful prophesies as each tries to ensnare the jittery mind of men. A vast, world-wide uncertainty luridly lighted by the flames of hate make of the world one gigantic witches’ cauldron . . .

“The outstanding impression you made upon me during the delightful days you lingered about our home was this: Your unbelievable and unimpeachable want of interest or concern for the world about you, the sort of a world I sketched above.

“You came to us quite as if you had been the first of the resurrection out of those old cemeteries in which now . . . the thousands of Abijahs and Clorys [lie]. The unbelievable and unimpeachable . . . detachment from this world about us, with which you came from your world, both charmed and fascinated us, as well as giving us a needed rest and a needed change. As day after day we watched you wear their clothes, sit at our table and eat their food; listened to you sing their songs; watched you, candle in your hand, led the way through their houses and show us their intimate belongings, we, too, became part of that world from which you came and of which you had become a part.

“And then to listen to them talk, hearing them speak the language they used and with the old, familiar words, that was a treat as rare as would be a day of peace in these jittery times.”

(Joseph Walker, Hollywood, to Maurine Whipple, Sept. 5, 1940. Whipple Collection, Dixie State University Special Collections.)

Zoom Maurine Whipple Event Annoucement

We will hold a Zoom event on Sunday, October 11, 8:00 pm Mountain Time (7:00 pm Pacific), where all can come and share their questions and comments on The Giant Joshua. The event will feature several people who knew Maurine personally sharing their memories of her, including the poet Carol Lynn Pearson, Maurine’s biographer Veda Hale, the author Marilyn Brown, and the publisher Curtis Taylor. All who have joined us in reading the novel over the last two months are invited to attend and share their feelings about the book.

Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85698612887

Meeting ID: 856 9861 2887

The Clergy Privilege in Mormon Cases: The Strange Case of Richard W. Miller

Mon, 28 Sep 2020 13:51:00 GMT

Jeff Breinholt is a member of the State Bar of California, and serves as an Adjunct Professor at George Washington University Law School. The views in this article are the authors own and do not reflect those of the U.S. Department of Justice.

Is there equality among religions when it comes to the recognition of the clergy-penitent privilege? This question is relevant because of the apparent patchwork of incidents in which the LDS Church’s commitment to the privilege – if not judicial recognition of the privilege in Mormon cases – seems to vary.

To understand my interest in this story, we need to go back to July 1986. I was a 22-year old intern, working in downtown in Los Angeles for federal judge William Gray. I had just finished my first year of law school at UCLA. Because Judge Gray was a senior judge, he took advantage of the benefits to avoid criminal cases. I was somewhat bored. I had planned to go into criminal law, and was looking for little enrichment. One Friday after lunch, I saw a crowd gather outside of Judge David Kenyon’s courtroom. I decided to see what the fuss was about and curiously entered the courtroom with the throng.

It turned out to be the first of many federal criminal sentencings I witnessed over the course of my career, and it was a big one, involving the first FBI agent in history convicted of Soviet espionage. The defendant was a short obese Mormon guy named Miller.

He largely ignored the proceedings, taking aggressive notes at his table during the hearing as the US Attorney – Robert Bonner – described him as a bumbling agent who lost his gun and badge and could not keep his zipper closed, particularly with a sexy Russian émigré-turned-informant. Bonner patiently explained how Miller had permanently injured US national security. When his turn came, Miller stopped taking notes and spoke briefly on his own behalf. I remember Judge Kenyon threw the book at him, giving him two life sentences.

Fast forward now 34 years. After I graduated in 1988, I did go into criminal law as a federal prosecutor, and am about to celebrate three full decades at the Department of Justice. I have attended and represented the government in hundreds of criminal sentencing hearings, mainly in Utah. For the past 23 years, I have been focused on international terrorism in DC. I am now considered an old hand.

The Pandemic hit. I am telecommunicating with time on my hands to think about my career. I start thinking of the fat Mormon FBI agent 34 years ago. Whatever happened to him?

Turns out Richard M. Miller died a free man in 2013.

That day in 1986? It was just one of one of two sentencings Miller suffered in Los Angeles, based on his convictions for spying for the USSR. I now know this from reading the case law and related newspapers articles.

The story goes like this:

It was the Cold War in the mid-80s. Miller did not belong at the FBI. LA was where there was action with lots of Russian emigres. Though Miller – the father of eight kids – spoke fluent Spanish and had graduated from BYU, he could not cut it. He lost his badge. He would spend hours slumming it at 7-11, eating candy. He was assigned menial tasks. He was disciplined by his Church for marital infidelity He was on his way to being fired by the FBI.

Enter Svatlana Ogorodnikova, a Soviet émigré. She was previously handled by another LA agent named Hunt who tried to recruit her a few years earlier, and whom she slept with. Miller took her over as a numbered asset, and began planning to save his career through her, in what he described as his “blaze of glory.” Miller couldn’t resist having sex with her (as Hunt had) as they went forward with his plan.

In August 1984, Miller and Svetlana went on a joyride, heading from LA to San Francisco by car. They got drunk on the way up, a first for Miller. When they arrived, Svetlana went into the Soviet Consulate while Miller waited in the car. Svetlana reportedly dangled some classified information Miller had given to her.

The FBI established surveillance on the couple the following month, as they were planning another getaway to Austria to deliver classified documents to the KGB. By this time, Miller sensed he was being watched.

On September 27, 1984, Miller reported this relationship to one of his FBI supervisors, P. Bryce Christiansen, a fellow Mormon, although his motive for reporting was later disputed. Miller claimed he was seeking permission for the Austria trip.

On September 29, Miller was summoned to the office of Special Agent in Charge Richard T. Bretzing in the presence of Christiansen. Miller knew Bretzing was a bishop in the LDS Church. At this 15 to 20 minute meeting, Bretzing expressed his concern over the situation and asked whether Miller had considered its “spiritual ramifications.” In an obvious reference to Miller’s excommunicant status, Bretzing reminded him of the beliefs he had once held, which include the need to repent when one transgressed the law or “offended someone.” Bretzing reminded Miller that these beliefs stipulated the need for “confession” to the offended parties and for “restitution.” He urged Miller to give a candid account of all that had taken place so that he might “unburden” himself; and reminded Miller his wife and eight children needed someone in his position to respect. When Miller attempted to repeat his protestations of innocence, Bretzing interrupted and instructed him to remain silent, stating that he would prefer silence to the denials that had been getting from him for the last two days.

The following morning, September 30, 1984, Miller was again summoned to Bretzing’s office. Christiansen was there. Bretzing asked Miller if he thought about their talk of the previous evening. Miller assured him he had. Bretzing once again, as he had the night before, urged Miller to “own up to it.” He would undoubtedly earn back some of the respect and self-esteem which he’d lost, Bretzing told him. Miller wept.

FBI agents arrested Miller in his pajamas and bathrobe at approximately midnight, October 2, 1984. He was immediately transported to a Magistrate in San Diego. During this ride, in the presence of Bretzing and two other agents, Miller was again interrogated, and again admitted providing documents to Svetlana notwithstanding his ever-present insistence that his actions were designed to benefit the FBI. He was charged with treason.

Svetlana pled guilty and testified against Miller. The first trial ended in a hung jury. Miller was retried and convicted. (This was the sentencing hearing I attended in July 1986, from which Miller received two life sentences.)

During the trial, the press reported that an expected courtroom showdown over the question of alleged Mormon favoritism fizzled when defense lawyers passed up a chance to ask Bretzing if he had ever given special treatment to Miller. Bretzing was recalled as a defense witness by Miller’s lawyers after Judge Kenyon gave them permission to question him about his alleged coddling of Miller, as well as his motives for a stern religious lecture just before Miller’s arrest on espionage charges. However, Kenyon blocked the defense lawyers from directly linking the Mormon religion to Bretzing’s treatment of Miller, and the lawyers decided not to pursue related allegations that Miller was first protected and then treated with undue harshness by Bretzing.

In 1989, the Ninth Circuit reversed Miller’s conviction and remanded back to the District Court for a new trial, largely because of faulty polygraph evidence. U.S. v. Miller, 874 F.2d 1255 (9^th Cir. 1989), aff’d on reconsideration, U.S. v. Miller, 884 F.2d 1149 (9^th Cir. 1989). Miller was tried on the charges a third time before a different judge. When he was convicted again in October 1990 at the hands of a young prosecutor named Adam Schiff, On February 4, 1991, Miller was sentenced to 20 years in federal prison. He would get out early in a few years.

Miller’s second appeal focused on the fateful discussions he had with Bretzing prior to his arrest, arguing that the invocation of “spiritual ramifications” of Miller’s conduct rendered his confession coercive.

The Ninth Circuit did not buy the argument, writing briefly that there is no evidence to show that Miller’s will was “overborne” and describing how, at his suppression hearing, he admitted that his confession to espionage had nothing to do with religion. U.S. v. Miller, 984 F.2d 1028 (9^th Cir. 1993).

But does that answer the question? Why was Bretzing’s discussions with Miller not protected by the clergy-penitent privilege? Does it even apply to the lay clergy-penitent relationships that exist in the Mormon faith? The LDS Church does tend to assert the privileged in sex abuses cases, yet in Miller – a case of national security – it did not. How can this be squared?

Perhaps it was that Bretzing was not Miller’s bishop at the time, so the confession had a more secular than religious quality, akin to an employment matter, even if Bretzing did in fact appeal to Miller’s religious beliefs. Bretzing is still alive, and although I have not spoken to him, I did speak to his son (himself a retired FBI agent) who describes his father as being an FBI agent first, who was entitled to use his full bag of tricks to get to the truth in Miller’s head. This is hard to argue with, and would explain the “spiritual ramifications” quote. Moreover, this was the height of the Cold War and what Miller did was serious. Should not the LDS Church cooperate with the FBI is such times?

Then again, is not child sexual abuse a serious thing, even if not on par with espionage?

The fact remains that the LDS Church seemingly cooperates with the government on national security matters, but that it claims religious liberty and asserts clergy privilege when it comes to explaining their inaction in sex abuse cases. This is an inconsistency that cannot stand.

Why did Richard Miller not scream bloody murder that his “religious” confession was used against him? It could have been that Miller knew it was not truly a religious conversation. Perhaps Miller’s lawyers overestimated how difficult it would be to shield the information that is confessed to just a newfangled religion as the LDS Church. After all, they chose not to pursue what Judge Kenyon had approved on the Mormonism issue. Finally, the law was not as penitent friendly (at least for Mormons) at the time.

Although they could not have known it at the time, in later years, at least, defendants in federal cases have sometimes successfully invoked the privilege to prevent disclosures of confessions to LDS bishops. In Scott v. Hamick, 133 F.R.D. 610 (D. Utah 1990), the victim of sex abuse sued her stepfather in federal court in Utah. (The case was brought by future Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson) The LDS Church, which was not a party to the case, filed a motion to quash the subpoena, which sought production of documents disclosing or relating to any excommunication of the father and any communications containing references respecting sexual or other physical abuse of the father’s adopted children. Magistrate Ronald Boyce ruled for the Church, reasoning that the communication made to the LDS Church bishop “in the course of the discipline” of the LDS Church was indeed privileged. Boyce noted that an LDS Church bishop is a clergyman within the meaning of the Utah statute. In his opinion, he dropped citations to cases decided in Iowa, Indiana, Oregon and Arizona that were in accord in terms of the interpretation of their state statutes. At the time, no Utah case construed the scope of the statutory privilege afforded clergy and a penitent.

This evolution of the law on Mormon-related clergy privilege may have been the reason Richard Miller, for the first time in the 1990s, tried a religious defense in his second appeal. His lawyers might have been empowered by Magistrate Boyce’s opinion in Scott, which to this day is the best analysis of the clergy privilege as it applies to the lay clergy-penitent relationship that exists in the Mormon faith. Unfortunately Miller had already washed away his religious liberty argument by acknowledging in earlier proceedings that his confession had nothing to do with religion. The Ninth Circuit had no difficulty dismissing his argument.

Whatever the reason, the fact remains that the LDS Church is more aggressive at asserting the clergy privilege to protect itself as an institution in sex abuse cases than in other areas of criminal law.