Fifteen years ago, in a show of determined irresponsibility, I embarked on a journey. A two-month solo bicycle trip from Washington to Maine. The only goal was to watch the sun set over the Pacific and rise over the Atlantic. Everything in-between was TBD. To be determined.
Before beginning my adventure, I did something that dumb people tend to do. I made a deal with God. The deal went something along the lines of, I will make every reasonable effort to not ride on Sunday, if God somehow made that possible. Over the next eight weeks, regardless of what small town along the US/Canadian border I found myself in on Saturday evening, there was an LDS chapel in every single one of them. Each one of those chapels had a sign, predominately placed to state two great truths: it was the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints AND that visitors welcomed. Without any assistance, all of my resources for the trip were contained in the 40-liter dry bag that I pulled behind me in a small trailer. Can you imagine the sight that I was after a week on the road?! But every Sunday morning, as I wandered in wearing cargo pants and a casual polo shirt, overly hairy and marginally disheveled, (can you imagine?) the questions were always the same: where are you from, where did you start, where will you finish, what can we do to help? I was offered a place to eat, a place to sleep, a place to refresh for the upcoming week. I triggered my own stranger danger and always wanted to reply, “are you sure that’s a good idea?” But I never felt judged for not meeting their cultural norms and I never cynically questioned the statement of visitors welcomed.
As a social species, being part of a group is one of our most basic and strongest needs. In the anthropological record, man’s exit from the wilderness to till the fields changed the course of history. No longer were groups required to follow the herd nor limited in size due to caloric availability or the ability to keep up. We were now able to settle, develop and invest in the community. As these communities expanded from families to villages and beyond, a strange phenomenon began to take place. As our reach got wider and extended further, it started to incorporate those that weren’t quite like us. The birth of tribalism and eventually the protectionism of us vs them.
As a biologist, I was trained in the process of phylogenetics: using physical and genetic traits to categorize and separate species and sub-species. The length of the primary feathers in a bird; the number of spines in the dorsal fin in a fish; the proportion of ear length to snout in bats. This is how we catalog the world. Too often, this is also how we catalog each other. The kind of car we drive, the color of our skin, our tax bracket, the party we vote for, the team we root for, the commandments we keep. These things connect us with our tribes, while simultaneously drawing the boundaries that keep the Other out. The things that make me a pretty good biologist also tend to make me a pretty lousy human being.
While visiting the Nephites following his crucifixion, Christ counseled His newly called twelve that “Ye shall be judges of this people, according to the judgment which I shall give unto you, which shall be just. Therefore, what manner of men ought ye to be? Verily I say unto you, even as I am.” (3 Ne. 27:27) Perfect judgment requires perfect perspective. A high bar. Last General Conference, Elder Lynn G. Robbins of the Seventy taught that “the natural man and woman in each of us has a tendency to condemn others and to judge un-righteously, or self-righteously.” Our natural man uses judgment to isolate and ostracize. Christ-like judgement is used to advocate for. Christ’s judgement was beautifully captured in His words to the woman at the temple, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.” (John 8:11)
Our judgment and condemnation of others is a reflection of our understanding of the gospel. We may understand the letters of the law, but overlook the spirit forgetting that by the law, we are all condemned. The scribes and Pharisees used the law as a weapon to protect themselves from the Other. We unqualify ourselves the moment we start keeping score.
Christ wants us to celebrate all that come unto him, regardless of their history. I can't think of a lesson that he teaches more often. The parable of the lost sheep, the lost piece of silver, the prodigal son, the hired laborers. Each of these parables highlight the joy of the redeemed soul. The peace and happiness of the gospel can not be found when we constantly compare the statistics of our supplication to those around us. Do we turn our backs on the lost sheep and log in to social media to complain to the ninty-nine that "These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat of the day?" (Matt. 20:12) or do we use it to send e-vites to the celebration?
Even worse than the judgements that we place on others, is the truth that we’re even more susceptible to overly criticize and judge ourselves. In the Pearl of Great Price, we read of the moment when Moses was “caught up into an exceedingly high mountain.”
And he saw God face to face, and he talked with him, and the glory of God was upon Moses; therefore Moses could endure his presence.
And God spake unto Moses, saying : Behold, I am the Lord God Almighty, and Endless is my name;
And behold, thou art my son; wherefore look, and I will show thee the workmanship of mine hands;
And I have a work for thee, Moses, my son; (Moses 1:1-6)
As soon as Moses was "left unto himself" and had a moment to collect himself, he concludes that "for this cause I know that man is nothing, which thing I never had supposed." (v. 10) I will forever fixate on the word "nothing" here. Our current definition for "nothing" undermines and conflicts the whole experience Moses had just endured. "I am God; You are my son; and there is a work for you to do." Moses was shown the whole history of the world. Nothing about that vision would indicate that Moses was insignificant. "Nothing" almost becomes the unspeakable everything. "Which thing I never had supposed." Moses was not perfect, but that did not change his divine genealogy. The same holds true for us. There is a God; we are His sons and daughters; He has a work for us.
This church is 15 million plus members strong and reaches every corner of the globe. We live in a world full of conflict that has left millions of people without a home. People who may not sound like us, who may not look like us, who may be overly hairy and marginally disheveled. Refugees looking for refuge. It is certainly an overwhelming task, but we can make ourselves available. In April General Conference, Elder Patrick Kearon testified that "being a refugee may be a defining moment in the lives of those who are refugees, but being a refugee does not define them. Like countless thousands before them, this will be a period - we hope a short period - in their lives. Some of them will go on to be Nobel laureates, public servants, physicians, scientists, musicians, artists, religious leaders, and contributors in other fields. Indeed, many of them were these things before they lost everything. This moment does not define them, but our response will help define us." "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
Too often, we resist reaching out in fear that doing so will somehow take away from us. Pollute our perspective. But just as Christ described himself as living water, these lost sheep bring new experiences and new life to our stale homogeneity.
Tomorrow we recognize the birth of the great Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. I would be remiss to speak on the importance of inclusion without including his words. In a slight paraphrase, when awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace, he spoke in part “I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of [judgement] that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality…I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.” Christ knew the value of the lost sheep. The value of the Other. Until we understand these things perfectly - the way that Christ understood them - then it is our duty to welcome the visitor. Welcome them into our wards, into our homes and into our hearts.
The saddest words in the history of the world were, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34) A moment of absolute isolation at the apex of the atonement. It is our calling to ensure that they’re never uttered again.
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