Today’s post is written by ‘Saint Maybe’, a fabulous writer. Enjoy!
Buddhism teaches that the origin of suffering is attachment. That was part of the epiphany of the bodhi tree. Craving, grasping, clinging, and binding are all synonyms for this kind of attachment, with each of those gerunds conjuring up a negative image along the lines of Scrooge McDuck kissing his piles of gold. Craving, grasping and clinging don’t have anything to do with Mormon teachings, do they? Imagine, for a minute, a typical picture from the church’s Gospel Art Picture Kit, maybe one with smiling mother, father and assorted well-groomed children kneeling together in nightly prayer. Could this familial scene be craving? Picture the mirrored walls of a Mormon temple sealing room, with the infinite reflected faces of the ceremony participants representing our eternal bonds with our family members. Is this clinging?
The notion of a family line continuing through generations, a linked chain of mothers, fathers and children, is powerful in our Mormon beliefs. We are impressed by those tenacious genealogists among us who can trace back generations across centuries and continents. When a young man is ordained to a priesthood office, he receives a piece of paper charting the line of priesthood authority. If he is ordained by his father, then his name will be followed by the father’s name, and then the name of the man who ordained his father and so on. That ordination list goes all the way back to Jesus Christ. We certainly don’t limit ourselves to the small scale of a typical family tree with just a few branches here and there. Four-generation group sheets, those ubiquitous family history worksheets, are only a start, baby steps in the quest to extend our family chains.
We put so much stock in the power of the family line that we even believe, to some degree, that one person’s goodness might help overcome another person’s weakness. Forget that old adage, ‘You’re only as strong as the weakest link.’ In Mormon theology, it might be possible to assert that ‘You can be as strong as your strongest link if that strongest link is really, really strong.’
Brigham Young, second president of the Mormon church, taught, “Let the father and mothers… take a righteous course, and strive with all their might never to do a wrong, but to do good all their lives; if they have one child or one hundred children, if they conduct themselves towards them as they should, binding them to the Lord by their faith and prayers, I care not where those children go, they are bound up to their parents by an everlasting tie, and no power of earth or hell can separate them from their parents in eternity; they will return again to the fountain from whence they sprang.” Brother Brigham makes it clear that we do believe ourselves bound to each other.
I think it is safe to say that members feel a responsibility for the salvation of not only themselves but for their progenitors and ancestors, a responsibility that stretches backwards and forwards. We believe that no success outside of the home will compensate for failure inside. We believe we cannot be saved without our dead. Mormon parents are even encouraged to rescue their wayward children, long after those children have grown into adults. And these beliefs do bear some positive fruit: greater alertness to the needs of our children and greater appreciation for family members who came before.
But it also seems that this multi-generational concern can sometimes morph into unhealthy attachment, what Buddha recognized as the cause of suffering, and to the degree that we believe ourselves capable of “saving” another person, or being that really, really strong link, we also arrogantly insert ourselves into that person’s journey, trying either to alter the journey’s course or to piggyback onto what should actually be a solo endeavor.
It is wrong thinking. Did we learn nothing from the beloved musical play Carol Lynn Pearson and Lex deAzevedo gave us thirty years ago? Indeed, they didn’t title it Our Turn on Earth.
For example, I am terrified of being honest with my own parents about the current state of my testimony because I do not want to hurt them. I haven’t left, but I am taking a good hard look around. Which begs the question, why would it hurt my parents to know I was walking a heartfelt faith journey that included prayer, meditation, study, observation, questioning and exploration? None of these activities is harming me and may, in fact, help me to improve my life. So how on earth could this be hurtful? Well, this might sound latter-day obvious, but it would hurt them because they would A) feel like Mormon parental failures and B) feel that they might lose me in their eternal Celestial Kingdom family. It’s not just “how on earth,” but “how in heaven” as well.
Ah, the celestial family. It’s like an ornament on a Christmas tree. With the right light, a glow from the fireplace or an electric bulb, the ornament shimmers enticingly. The celestial family is a stunningly beautiful notion in that light. But the notion creates some problems too, when the fire goes out, the lights are unplugged, the tree needles fall and the holiday ends. This celestial family ideal creates unhealthy attachment and diminishes our ability to trust other people, specifically the other people in our families. Since church members believe we have a stake in other people’s salvation and might even believe that their false steps impact our eternal joy, we are tempted to exercise unrighteous dominion (see: guilt, manipulation, force, abuse, or general unkindness or Doctrine & Covenants 121:39).
Too often we think we know best, that somehow our mistakes can be recycled into other people’s lessons at our behest. We want to download our conclusions into the hard drives of our children’s (or siblings’ or spouses’) brains. We do not trust them to figure it out on their own. Yes, as a Mormon mother, I know what it feels like to want to “save” my children, to hold them close for the eternities, but as a Mormon daughter, I also know what it feels like to be smothered by the love of one’s parents.
Is there an antidote to this celestial attachment? Should there be? Our celestial family archetype inspires many church members to try harder and do better. It comforts those who have lost a loved one. It answers the big question: “Is this it?” It helps us cherish relationships in the present because we believe ourselves bound together for the long haul. It encourages involvement and investment, and obviously, families need that. Children need parents who love them. The world suffers because of parental neglect. I wouldn’t want to lose those positives. But I am very wary of attaching myself to someone else’s salvation or having other people attach themselves to mine. I’m afraid that the church culture sometimes teaches us the false notion that we can accompany our children or our loved ones down life’s paths, and in that teaching, promotes an untruth that creates suffering.
And yet, I understand that through relationships we learn. Our families are life laboratories. We can teach each other, yes, but we cannot pre-determine all of the lessons. The line between mindful parenting and unhealthy (celestial) attachment is not fixed, but should be examined, not just in the soft glow of lamplight.
I too would love to spend eternity with my children, mostly. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to keeping that celestial ornament in a velvet-lined box in the back of my heart. But I also want to raise them with enough room and trust to walk their individual journeys. I want them to know I love them for who they are now.
This is very well expressed. How do you raise kids so that they understand that what you want most for them is to find their own way? I’d like to raise them so that they are willing and able to look around and take good advice where they can find it (wisdom from grandparents, vicarious life lessons from parents, insight from good books, and yes, even advice and structure from the church and church leaders), but ultimately, I want them to take responsibility for their own spiritual lives. It seems like that’s tough to do. Could it be that our parents want the same thing for us, but we just haven’t figured that out?
Brent
I don’t think there’s room for devout Mormon parents to allow their children to find their own spiritual lives. From a Mormon POV, there is only one right path. Not being on that path leaves one vulnerable to Satan’s influence and the loss of salvation–and eternal family togetherness.
I really like this post, Saint Maybe. Regarding the idea that a super strong link can save even weak links (as expressed in Brigham Young’s comment you quote), it seems like if parents took this idea seriously, they would actually worry less about their children. Shouldn’t they think, “Well, come what may for my kids, I’ve done what I can do to be the strongest link possible, so it doesn’t matter what my kids do–they’ll be saved”? It’s not my favorite conclusion because it seems to override the idea that children can have real agency, but it does seem to follow from Brigham Young’s position.
Ziff, I’ve examined this quote from both the parent perspective and child perspective and it still doesn’t really sit right with me. On the one hand, as a parent, I can never be sure that I’ve done everything right by my children. We all fall short. As a child, I feel somewhat deprived of my agency. I can neither earn my salvation nor endanger it.
Wow, what a beautifully expressed post. Lots of good food for thought.
Thanks so much for such a beautifully written essay! It is ironic that I was sent to this site on the same day that I found an article in the Salt Lake Tribune about “scrupulosity.” (See “Faith and mental health: Religious devotion gone too far,” by Kristen Moulton at http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/lifestyle/50829074-80/scrupulosity-says-ocd-dehlin.html.csp.) I wonder the extent to which LDS parents (or Mormons in general) suffer from celestial attachment and/or scrupulosity. For many years I did. It’s not surprising that Buddhist thought about suffering saved my sanity.
Saint Maybe, really enjoyed the way you’ve put into words (and gorgeous pics) both the source of so much pain and some very wise suggestions for moving forward as families and friends. Happy Holidays to you too. :)
Great post. I too struggled with attachment to this idea when my wife’s beliefs changed (read: diminished). Especially since she was by far the “better half” by LDS standards. I’ve come to believe that striving for a CONNECTION with my family is healthier than maintaining an ATTACHMENT to a particular outcome. Living in the present tense rocks, in my view. Thanks for some beautifully expressed thoughts. :)
There is a developmental theorist Jung who wasn’t Mormon and also described a connection to ancestors from a psychological/self conscious/dream state perspective. I go back to his theory often in my mind and wonder about the power of family and ancestral connections on many different levels and how that influences what I do in my daily life. I have thought a lot about genetic code and how our parents literally pass on certain traits. I have also thought a lot about evolution and how important this is to people and life in general. Isn’t it really what repentance is – evolution to a better kind of life?
For myself, I appreciate the church for what it did for my family in the past. I appreciate my parents and their love for family. But when the church started to harm me personally and was used as a weapon against me instead of a help-mate, I had to evolve. I still enjoy family prayer, my family, service to my fellow man, and the love of God in general. However, I cannot be a part of anything that is as puritanical and hateful as some parts of that religion have become.
I was thinking about this a lot recently when it was discovered that there are life forms that have a different genetic code than DNA – a new type of chain, these organisms actually grow from what is poison to most common living things that we currently know. There could be limitless worlds with multiple types of chains and families of organisms. God can hold them all in his hands. Sometimes we think we know everything or that God will reveal it to a select person. Sometimes in our evolution we discover a power within ourselves to find the connections on our own that free us to leap out of the chains and evolve. My God will understand when I stand before Him that I tried to stay on a path that He knew I would find for myself when I was honestly searching.
I think that the Mahayana Buddhist teachings regarding bodhisattvas may suggest a path to reconcile LDS family understandings with the nonattachment teachings of the Buddha.
In some Mahayana lineages, the objective of the Noble Eightfold Path is not to become a Buddha, but rather to seek liberation, simultaneously, of oneself and of all sentient creatures. One of the key insights in that teaching is that the distinctions and separations between individuals are conventional and temporary, rather than essential and permanent, such that liberation of one’s individual self is neither really possible, nor desirable, so long as anyone else suffers. Ang San Su Kyi exemplified this teaching recently when she commented, upon her release from house custody, that she will not be free until all who are imprisoned for consciousness’ sake are not free.
In an LDS-languaged discussion, she might have said, “I without them cannot be saved.”
That does not disrespect the decision-making ability of the individual, nor the importance of free-ranging inquiry. But it does recognize that nothing partial is complete.