One Body

Here’s a talk I gave at church on 2018-04-29:

From 1835 to 1921, our Doctrine and Covenants contained a series of seven doctrinal expositions on faith. In the culminating 7th part, it says this concerning Christ: “…Where is the prototype? or Where is the saved being? … there will be no dispute among those who believe the bible, that it is Christ: all will agree in this that he is the prototype or standard of salvation…. he was like the Father, the great prototype of all saved beings: And… to be assimilated into their likeness is to be saved; and to be unlike them is to be destroyed: and on this hinge turns the door of salvation.” (7.8,14)

As impossible as it may seem, to become like Christ, we should take God at His word. If his entire work and glory is our exaltation (Moses 1.39), and this is what he labors for constantly (2 Nep 26.24), it can’t be an entirely futile effort. As impossible as it seems, it must be possible.

But, we need to be in it for the long haul. Joseph Smith explained: “...it will be a great while after you have passed through the veil before you will have learned [all the principles of exaltation]. It is not all to be comprehended in this world; it will be a great work to learn our salvation and exaltation even beyond the grave.” (History of the Church, 6.306-7). In other words, the labor extends well beyond this blink-of-an-eye moment of our existence.

This is why I take Christ as the ideal of what I want to strive for, even if I see how woefully distant this appears. Sometimes I grow discouraged at how far short of this ideal I fall. But, this is always momentary and then I resume the pursuit with faith and hope. I think that keeping Christ as our constant goal is what he meant when he said: “...I would that ye should be perfect even as I, or your Father who is in heaven is perfect.” (3 Nep. 12.48)

So, over the course of this talk, I’m going to speak in terms of ideals. I’m going to speak as though these things are possible because “…with God nothing shall be impossible.” (Luke 1.37) All things are present before his eyes (D&C 38.2), he sees the end from the beginning (Isa. 46.10). He sees us not as we are right now, but what he intends us to become.

This breathes life into me. This causes my spirit, like Mary’s, to rejoice in God my Savior (Luke 1.47) and my soul to magnify Him (Luke 1.46). This makes me want to strive to stand as a witness of Him at all times and in all places (Mosiah 18.9).

This is how I see the world – in terms of ideals, in terms of the impossible, even if the hard reality of the gulf separating me from this ideal (1 Nep. 15.26-30; Hel. 3.29-30) stares me constantly in the face. What is faith if not to show in every word and deed that I believe the impossible to be possible? To me, this is the definition of faith. (Heb. 11; Ether 12)

So, what is the supreme ideal as it concerns the way we treat and interact with each other? What is the most foolish and impossible goal? To me, it’s Zion. It’s described in the book of Acts when the converts “had all things common” (Acts 2.44) and “…sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need.” (Acts 2.45). It’s described in 4 Nephi where “…there was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people.” (4 Nep. 1.15)

It’s seen in the people of Enoch who “...were of one heart and one mind and dwelt in righteousness.” (Moses 7.18) It’s seen in those baptized at the waters of Mormon who “…did walk uprightly before God, imparting to one another both temporally and spiritually according to their needs and their wants.” (Mosiah 18.29)

What does this all have to do with service? This is the topic I was assigned. So, I’m going to spend the remainder of my time trying to answer this question. To do this, I’m not going to talk about service as an event or multiple events. I like to think of service as more a way of living or being than as specific things we do.

Life consists of a lot of doing. But all of this doing is the path to becoming. What I really want is to become like God. I want to be animated by the same spirit. I want to have the same disposition so that, eventually, all of my doing is no longer just a path to becoming. Instead, everything I do and think and say is the natural outgrowth of a pure and perfected soul. Like water from a pure fountain, that’s what I want my actions to be.

I want to serve because I, like God, am love (1 John 4.8-16). Love cannot bear to see the suffering or hardship of another without reaching out and mourning with them (Mosiah 18.9), lifting up their hands (D&C 81.5), praying for them, crying out to God for them. Love doesn’t merely *see* the suffering of another soul. Love *feels* the suffering of another as though it were its own.

This should define the relationship between husband and wife. We read that “...a man [shall] leave his father and his mother and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” (Gen. 2.24) This is where it should begin, between husband and wife, and within our family. But, Joseph Smith said a “…man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race.” (History of the Church 4.227)

The scriptures make it clear that this oneness should be much broader in scope than our immediate relationships. In John 14, we read: “...If a man love me, he will keep my words: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.” (John 14.23). In John 15, we read: “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me.” (John 15.4-5). And in the Lord’s intercessory prayer, we read: “Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word; That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us… that they may be made perfect in one…” (John 17.20-23).

We see the same idea in the symbolism of the sacrament. Christ said: “I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh… He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him. As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father: so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me.” (John 6.51-58)

Those listening to Christ here, who couldn’t see past what seemed to be a disturbing description of cannibalism, “…went back, and walked no more with him.” (John 6.66) But Christ’s words in John 14, his description of himself as the true vine in John 15, his intercessory prayer in John 17 and the words of the sacramental prayers (Moroni 4-5) should make it obvious to us what the Lord was getting at. And it seems it should have been obvious to those with Christ at this time. Was this not an allusion to the peace offering of the ancient temple rites in which the offerer consumed a portion of the sacrifice (Lev. 7.11-18)?

What was signified by consuming the peace offering? What is signified by partaking of the sacramental bread and wine? I think the answer can be summed up in the phrase “you are what you eat“. We literally are what we eat. What we consume is digested, absorbed and incorporated into our bodies. The Lord invites us to abide in him (John 15.4-5). He promises that he and the father will make their abode with us (John 14.23). What is the ultimate design of God if not to have us become one with him? (John 17.20-23)

So, coming back to service, how is this discussion of oneness relevant? We’ve talked about the conditions that exist in Zion societies. We’ve talked about becoming one with God and with each other. We’ve talked about esteeming each other as ourselves (D&C 38.24-25). We’ve talked about service as a way of being, rather than specific events.

With the remaining time, I want to try to describe a picture I have in my mind, an ideal that inspires and motivates me and gives me hope and purpose.

Service as a way of being is what happens when we put action behind the maxim “humanity is my race and love is my religion“. It’s what happens when we are “...filled with the love of God, …not content with blessing [our] family alone, but… anxious to bless the whole human race.” (History of the Church 4.227) It’s what happens when we forget that we don’t home or visit teach person X, that person Y is not under our stewardship, that this isn’t going to count toward a scouting requirement or a young women medallion. It’s what happens when we forget that a person is not a member of our church, our family, our political party, etc.

The service I’m talking about is not handicapped by such rules or technicalities. It never says “I didn’t make that mess“, or “changing diapers and washing dishes is not my responsibility“, or “okay I’ll do this if you do that“. I’m talking about service without condition or strings attached. If we achieve such an ideal, then we have the makings of a Zion society. We are on our way to becoming one with each other and with God.

We see sparks of this from time to time. We see it in nature. The cells of our body labor ceaselessly for the welfare of the whole (Alma 1.27,30; 2 Nep. 26.29-31). Unless afflicted by cancer, where cells consume and proliferate at the expense of the whole, our cells never accumulate much beyond what’s needed for their maintenance. They give freely and unconditionally (Mosiah 4.16-19). They thrive or expire together. When one part suffers injury, the remainder redirects its labor to make up the shortfall. Is there not a type in this that we should pattern our lives after?

We see sparks of this ideal when we allow ourselves into the suffering of another person – when, in the midst of our own comfort, we never forget there’s always a host of people throughout the world in the grips of illness, abuse, poverty, starvation, depression, and loss. We see sparks of the ideal when their suffering becomes our own (1 Cor. 12.26).

And even when there is little to nothing we can do to help, even if we can’t come to the rescue of everyone in dire need, it may be service enough to allow ourselves to imagine “what if that was me, or my child, or my spouse?” It may be service enough to allow ourselves in some measure to suffer with that person. This can cause such feelings of empathy to well up inside of us that we cry within our own souls for God to come to the aid of that person, to relieve their suffering and deliver them from their bondage.

When we’re baptized, one thing that happens is we become members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But, I think our baptism should signify more than this. We should become members of the body of Christ (1 Cor. 12.12-27). We should bring our unique gifts God has given us and use them in service of the whole (1 Cor. 12.7-11; D&C 46.10-29). There’s no need for us all to look and think and act alike (1 Cor. 12.17-21). In fact, if we did, we could no more thrive as a body than a mass of undifferentiated, proliferating cells could grow into the diverse forms of life surrounding us.

When we’re baptized, we enter in at the gate (2 Nep. 31.17). If we have repented and we enter with the intent to love and serve and mourn with those that mourn (Mos. 18.9), the Father has promised he will baptize us with fire and the holy ghost (2 Nep. 31.12; 3 Nep 11.35-36). Only then are we in the straight and narrow way (2 Nep. 31.18; 1 Nep. 8.20) and it’s the holy ghost within us that shows us all things we must do (2 Nep. 32.5-6). We no longer need to be commanded in all things (D&C 58.26-28). We are in God’s care and it’s God who directs the course of our life (Ps. 23.1-4).

When we are each governed by God, we are like the cells of our bodies, acting in concert for the maintenance of the whole (2 Nep. 26.29-31). We care for each other and seek each other’s comfort and relief as we do our own (Matt. 22.39). Then and only then are we one with God and able to dwell with those in Celestial glory above (D&C 105.3-5).