ursus
Cyburbian, raised by Cyburbians
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It's a hell of a thing.
Been a while. I'm going to just drop this here, and reiterate that I am not stepping on the idea of faith or religion or anyone's faith: I would never do that, it's too important. So many, many good things came from my upbringing in Mormonism, and I'm sure it's the same for people of all religious traditions. Lots of good. So much. But I myself am sort of adrift right now, so things are bothering me. This is a notion that is common to many religions perhaps, but is really doubled-down in Mormonism because of the church's belief that the ancient and correct Priesthoods were lost to all other religions, but restored by Joseph Smith. So when people of faith pray for a child to be healed, that's one thing. In my faith, you prayed, sure, but then you used consecrated oil, got another Priesthood-holding man or boy (12 years and up) and you put your hands on that child's head and you blessed them to be healed. You used God's own authority, and blessed that child to be healed. Now, some kids get better, and some kids don't. And that bothered me. That doesn't make sense, but that's a post for another day. Today I was thinking about how we also give what's called a "Father's Blessing" to your children, or anyone really. I used to give them to my kids as they started new school years, or were just having a hard time. I'm not going to lie, they are some of my most treasured memories. We Mormons also bless babies when they're born. That's a good example of something I miss about my church days. Once a baby is a few weeks old, you bring them to church on a Sunday. All your family comes, and you invite friends, too. So, there you are, at the beginning of the meeting and there is this big circle of men and boys up at the front of the chapel, and all of them are family and friends - your brothers, your older sons, your neighbor and his boy, your uncle, your nephews - and all of them have left arms on each others shoulders and their right arms extended into the middle with this newest, perfect little baby resting there. And you, as the father, you invoke your priesthood and tell God that you are bringing this baby to give her a name and a blessing. You say the name, and then...you talk to this child, this new, perfect child - and speak for God. And I'm telling you, it is something to experience. I've done it six times for my own children, and dozens of times in Argentina. Every time, I bawled like a baby, and I felt like I was telling this child things they should know, things coming from God. Now, I believe I was just telling them what I felt. What I hoped for them. How amazing I wanted their life to be. And even if my church gave that to me under what I have to believe were false pretenses - the church still gave me that experience, and I'll never regret that. How could I? No, I no longer believe that I said what I said because I had been given some kind of authority, but I'll never forget holding those babies, feeling the support and faith and love of all those men in the circle and those people in the chapel with us, welcoming this child to the world, and to the community. I'm moved even in remembering how it felt. I miss it. But I can't go back. It would be dishonest of me to go back. But man, I hurt some days. The last of my children to be blessed, my brother didn't stand in the circle. He had come out as gay, and officially he could not stand in that circle. My wife couldn't hold the baby for us, even as we blessed him, because only men have the priesthood. These things had started to bother me by the time I blessed my youngest son. It's a hell of a thing, losing one's religion. It's a hell of a thing, and sometimes, I wish I could go back. But I would not do that to the little girls that I blessed, that are now my grown daughters. How could I do that?
Been a while. I'm going to just drop this here, and reiterate that I am not stepping on the idea of faith or religion or anyone's faith: I would never do that, it's too important. So many, many good things came from my upbringing in Mormonism, and I'm sure it's the same for people of all religious traditions. Lots of good. So much. But I myself am sort of adrift right now, so things are bothering me. This is a notion that is common to many religions perhaps, but is really doubled-down in Mormonism because of the church's belief that the ancient and correct Priesthoods were lost to all other religions, but restored by Joseph Smith. So when people of faith pray for a child to be healed, that's one thing. In my faith, you prayed, sure, but then you used consecrated oil, got another Priesthood-holding man or boy (12 years and up) and you put your hands on that child's head and you blessed them to be healed. You used God's own authority, and blessed that child to be healed. Now, some kids get better, and some kids don't. And that bothered me. That doesn't make sense, but that's a post for another day. Today I was thinking about how we also give what's called a "Father's Blessing" to your children, or anyone really. I used to give them to my kids as they started new school years, or were just having a hard time. I'm not going to lie, they are some of my most treasured memories. We Mormons also bless babies when they're born. That's a good example of something I miss about my church days. Once a baby is a few weeks old, you bring them to church on a Sunday. All your family comes, and you invite friends, too. So, there you are, at the beginning of the meeting and there is this big circle of men and boys up at the front of the chapel, and all of them are family and friends - your brothers, your older sons, your neighbor and his boy, your uncle, your nephews - and all of them have left arms on each others shoulders and their right arms extended into the middle with this newest, perfect little baby resting there. And you, as the father, you invoke your priesthood and tell God that you are bringing this baby to give her a name and a blessing. You say the name, and then...you talk to this child, this new, perfect child - and speak for God. And I'm telling you, it is something to experience. I've done it six times for my own children, and dozens of times in Argentina. Every time, I bawled like a baby, and I felt like I was telling this child things they should know, things coming from God. Now, I believe I was just telling them what I felt. What I hoped for them. How amazing I wanted their life to be. And even if my church gave that to me under what I have to believe were false pretenses - the church still gave me that experience, and I'll never regret that. How could I? No, I no longer believe that I said what I said because I had been given some kind of authority, but I'll never forget holding those babies, feeling the support and faith and love of all those men in the circle and those people in the chapel with us, welcoming this child to the world, and to the community. I'm moved even in remembering how it felt. I miss it. But I can't go back. It would be dishonest of me to go back. But man, I hurt some days. The last of my children to be blessed, my brother didn't stand in the circle. He had come out as gay, and officially he could not stand in that circle. My wife couldn't hold the baby for us, even as we blessed him, because only men have the priesthood. These things had started to bother me by the time I blessed my youngest son. It's a hell of a thing, losing one's religion. It's a hell of a thing, and sometimes, I wish I could go back. But I would not do that to the little girls that I blessed, that are now my grown daughters. How could I do that?
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