Honor, Revisited

Today was the first day of finals. I was supposed to have a final for my 20th-century American literature class. I didn't take it.

"I want you to understand that this decision has nothing to do with what you said about me," Brother Simmons told me yesterday. "You can think or say whatever you want about me. What you can't do is violate the Honor Code that you signed and expect to have a BYU diploma hanging on your wall."

"I haven't used my mutant ability in months, and when I did, I confessed it to my bishop." I had little hope that anything I could say--or was willing to say--would change Brother Simmons's mind, but I thought this worth mentioning.

"You know that's not the issue, Brother Christensen. Tell me this: Do you sustain Thomas S. Monson as a prophet, seer, and revelator?"

I sighed. It would be so easy to just say "yes." One word, and a week later I'd have my college degree. Just one word. But I couldn't. "No. I once believed he was a prophet, and I wish I still believed it, but I don't."

Brother Simmons nodded. "I understand. And I hope you understand, a degree from BYU is not just a certificate of academic achievement. It's also a symbol of spiritual achievement. It's a sign telling the world that you represent Brigham Young University, that you are the type of person this university produces. When you go out into the world with a BYU degree in hand, you go as a representative of Jesus Christ."

"What about Muslims or Jews or other non-members who attend BYU?"

"They also have to abide by the Honor Code."

"Which I've done!" I insisted. "I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't have girls in my apartment after curfew, I even go to church every Sunday. I just don't believe in the church anymore. What's the difference between me and any other non-Mormon who goes to BYU?"

"The difference is that you had light and knowledge that they didn't, and you have rejected it."

I buried my face in my palms. "I can't choose what I believe. I just... do."

"I think," Brother Simmons said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "deep down, you still know the church is true. I understand where you're coming from--I'm sure it's difficult to resist the temptation of living a mutant lifestyle, so it's easier to believe there's no God. But I assure you, Brother Christensen, there is. And he never said it would be easy, but I promise you, it will be worth it."

I stood up, brushing his hand away. I was done. Take away my degree, tell me I'm violating the Honor Code because I don't believe what I used to, but I will not sit there and listen to you telling me what I do or do not know. "You understand nothing," I said on my way out the door. "If I wanted easy, we'd be having a very different conversation."

So that's that. I'm done. I'm no longer a BYU student, one week short of graduating. I considered taking my finals, just to say I did, but the official email I received later yesterday afternoon explained that my professors have been instructed not to let me participate in final exams. So where do I go from here? I don't know. I'll transfer to another school to finish my degree, if I can. Maybe go on to get a master's or a doctorate. I've heard horror stories about BYU not releasing transcripts of students kicked out for Honor Code issues, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Image source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/zcameron/5874719413/

I've talked before about the Karl G. Maeser quote that the Honor Code Office claims as its motto:

Place me behind prison walls—walls of stone ever so high, ever so thick, reaching ever so far into the ground—there is a possibility that in some way or another I might be able to escape; but stand me on the floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never! I’d die first.

It would have been so easy for me to tell Brother Simmons what he wanted to hear yesterday. There were no walls between me and that diploma; just a chalk line. One little step, and I'm on the other side. One simple lie. One word. I may have been expelled from BYU for violating the Honor Code, but I like to think Karl G. Maeser would recognize me as a man of honor.

Love One Another

Yes, Brother Simmons read my post last night, and yes, we talked about it today. But I don't want to talk about that right now. Right now I want to talk about Jan. It turns out Jan had one last lesson to teach me.

This evening Lucy and I attended an informal memorial service for Jan at Kiwanis Park in Provo. It wasn't her funeral. That will be held tomorrow morning at her family's ward chapel in Alabama. Greg let me know that for his part I'm welcome but that their dad knows who I am and has made it clear that he doesn't want me within fifty miles of the funeral. I considered going anyway--from what I know of Jan's dad, he doesn't deserve to be at her funeral--but finally I decided I don't want to make a scene. No matter how much of a jerk her dad is, I'm sure he loves her and I can't even imagine how terrible he must be feeling now. I don't want to make it worse. I can pay my respects to Jan in my own way. So that's what I did tonight.

First, let me get the crappy stuff out of the way: As you may have seen on the news, there were protesters at the memorial service. Protesters. At a memorial service. I can't even begin to understand these people. They were standing around the edges of the park, holding signs that said things like "The Wages of Sin is Death" and "God Hates Freaks." Lucy squeezed my hand when she saw me fuming as we passed the protesters. "Just ignore them," she said softly. I did, but it still makes me sick to think about it.

Okay, with that out of the way, we can get to the good stuff: There were probably a thousand people there at the park, gathered to celebrate Jan's life (compared to at most fifty protesters). People had come from every corner of Utah, from St. George to Logan. Some came from Idaho and Nevada and Arizona. I talked to one guy who flew in from New York after he read about Jan in the news and was touched by her story. For about two hours, people stood on a stage and talked about how Jan has touched their lives. Most were people she had healed, but some hadn't even met her--they were mutants who were inspired by her to come out of the closet and use their powers for good. It seemed like most of the people had some connection with the LDS church, ranging from active believers to angry apostates. But every one of them agreed on one thing: The world needs more people like Jan.

The service ended with everyone there joining hands and singing a Mormon hymn, "Love One Another." As we sang the simple words, "As I have loved you / Love one another," our voices drowning out the noise of the protesters behind us, my chest trembled. I couldn't even finish the song before I broke down in sobs. Lucy put her arms around me, and then suddenly random strangers were joining in, wrapping me in a group hug. The outpouring of love from people I've never met was almost as overwhelming as my grief for Jan.

I've heard people say that God is love. If that's true, then I believe in God.

Apology

I'm sorry I swore. As I've mentioned before, I'm really not one to swear. Take that as a sign of what a horrible week I've had.

I'm not sorry for what I said about Brother Simmons. I'm not taking the post down and I'm not taking back anything I've said. Even if it costs me my college degree, I don't care. All that matters to me is the truth. That's what Jan deserves. It's what I deserve. If I have to suffer the consequences of being honest, then so be it.

Lessons Learned

I'm blogging again because Brother Simmons at the Honor Code Office told me to. Yesterday at the daily check-in that we've been having since I was put on academic probation last week, I had to apologize for missing Monday's check-in because I'd been overwhelmed by Jan's death and not able to do much of anything at all. Brother Simmons already knew about Jan--he'd seen it in the news. "I'm really sorry for your loss," he said. "It's tragic to think what she could have done with her life if she hadn't thrown it away trying to push the mutant agenda."

My mouth dropped open. Was I actually hearing this? Putting the lives of others before your own is "trying to push the mutant agenda"? Really?

"Perhaps," he went on, "you can make the best of this tragic situation by learning from it and helping others do the same. Instead of using your blog to lead others away from the church, why don't you get back on there and tell people what you've learned from Jan's death?"

So here I am. I've spent the past day thinking about what I've learned from Jan's death, and this is what I've come up with:

1. I learned that Jan was an amazing, selfless human being--even more than I realized when she was alive.
2. I learned that life is short so we need to make the most of it now. If we wait for later, there might not be a later. Jan died younger than most but at least she made a positive impact on the world while she was here. I should do the same. 
3. I learned that my belief in an afterlife is not as solid as it used to be. Maybe if I were sure that I'd see Jan again someday, I'd be able to handle this better, but I can't lie to myself, even if the lie might be comforting. The truth is, I have no idea what happens after death and I don't believe anyone really knows. Which sucks right now, but in the long run I think it will help me do better with #2. If there's an afterlife, then great, but in the meantime I need to make the most of the life I know I have. 
4. I learned that sometimes really shitty things happen to really great people. But that's no reason not to do good. It's not about earning a reward; it's about doing good because you want to make the world a better place. 

And finally,

     5.  I learned that Brother Simmons at the Honor Code Office is a heartless prick.

I hope you're reading this, Brother Simmons. I assume this is what you had in mind? 

[Redacted]

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

I need to take a break from the blog for a bit. I don't know, I might have to take the whole thing down. I've worked too hard toward this degree to throw it all away two and a half weeks before graduating.

The Napkin Religion

Lucy and I had dinner with a friend from UUPP this evening. It was a fairwell dinner. The friend, whom I'll call Shawn, had been on academic probation since he confessed to his bishop that he was regularly using his mutant power. Shawn is a telepath and it's really hard for him to turn his power off--he just hears people's thoughts, without trying. So over the past two months he's had to keep going back to his bishop and keep admitting that he's still "acting out." The Honor Code Office has warned him several times that if he doesn't get his behavior under control, he'll be kicked out of BYU. Finally, Shawn had enough and said, "Forget that." (He actually used much stronger language, which I won't repeat here.)

"It's all a load of B.S.," Shawn told me and Lucy tonight over Thai food. (And yes, I'm still censoring.) "The Honor Code Office, BYU, Bishop Rawlins, the whole effing church. They're all just trying to brainwash us, to keep us down. You know why? They're afraid of us. They're afraid of our power. Effing afraid."

I have to admit, I'm something of a swear wussy. I winced every time Shawn cussed. He seemed to notice my discomfort--or perhaps he read it in my mind--and he grinned at me. "See how brainwashed you are? They even control what language you can and cannot use."

Lucy reached across the table to squeeze Shawn's hand. "I can understand why you're angry, Shawn. You've been at BYU for two and a half years. You put a lot into your studies here, and now all of a sudden you have to uproot yourself and start over. And all because of some people in the church who don't understand that your power is a beautiful part of who you are. But don't let the people distract you from what the church really is. This isn't man's church. It's God's church. He'll make everything right."

"Forget God."

Even Lucy, with all her empathy, flinched at that one. She jerked back, pulling her hand away from Shawn.

Shawn looked to me and grinned again. His grin was unnerving, like it knew things about me I didn't know myself. "Ben knows what I'm talking about, don't you, Ben?"

I didn't respond. I didn't know how to respond. Honestly, I didn't know what he was talking about. But I feared that I did.

"Ben sees it too," Shawn said to Lucy. "He sees how the hierarchical structure of the church empowers a select few while keeping the masses down. He sees how all that 'testimony' B.S. they feed you in Sunday school is really just circular logic and self-fulfilling prophesies. Honestly, Lucy, think about it. Let's say I tell you..." He searched around the table for a moment, then picked up a napkin. "Let's say I tell you this napkin is a magic napkin, that all the truth you need to know about God and the universe is in this napkin. And you say, 'Why should I believe that?' And I give you my best salesman smile--" He demonstrated a convincing impression of a car salesman. "--and I tell you, 'It's simple. God will tell you himself. Just ask. But I know this napkin is true, Lucy. I know it. And I know that God will tell you it's true if you ask him sincerely and with a pure heart.' So you take the napkin, and you pray about it."

Lucy, always a good sport, took the napkin from Shawn and thanked him politely.

Source: http://www.lepirateesthete.com/2011_05_25_archive.html
(And how awesome is it that this image exists? I searched for "holy napkin" and didn't expect to find anything this perfect to go with Shawn's little diatribe.)

"Now," Shawn said, "one of two things will happen: One, you pray about it and my sales pitch was so convincing and you saw how happy the napkin made me, so you want it to be true. And, because that's how the human brain works, you convince yourself that God has answered your prayer and told you the napkin is true. Or two, you're maybe not 100% sold on my pitch, or maybe you're a little more logical than the average Joe, so you don't get an answer. Or maybe you convince yourself the answer is 'no.' Either way, is my faith threatened? If I were applying the scientific method it would be. The scientific method requires experiments to be repeatable, with the same results every time. But I'm not using the scientific method; I'm using magical thinking. And in my magical world, promises from God come with a caveat: They only work if you're faithful. So if you didn't get an answer, or you got the wrong answer, then it's because you're unworthy. Or you were deceived by an evil spirit. It's never because the whole effing system is B.S. But that's exactly what it is--effing B.S."

Undaunted, Lucy smiled. "So if I only believe because I want to believe, because it makes me happy, then what's the problem? You know, like they say, if it makes you happy, then how can it be so bad?"

Shawn shrugged. "Until it doesn't."

I focused on my mussaman curry. Shawn was right about me--I had had those thoughts before. I do have those doubts. But I'm not about to go apostate, join the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and start dropping F-bombs all over the place. Doubt your doubts, right?

Thoughts From Jan

A guest post:

Jan here. First I need to apologize for the lack of posts this week. That's my fault, X has been spending all his time with me. I guess he likes me more than blogging. :)
Second I want to say that I don't want to hide our relationship. I love X and there's nothing wrong with that. I respect the honor code office and I know I've made mistakes but dating X is not one of them. He is the best part of my life. He makes me want to be a better person. If the honor code office asks I'll tell them that. If I get kicked out of BYU then so be it. God will lead me where I need to go.
Third I want to say to all the mutant couples out there who lost your right to be married this week that I support you. I know my church doesn't approve of mutant marriage and I support my church but I also support the right of everyone to choose. Trust in God and He'll take care of you. No enemy will prevail.
Fourth I want you to know that X is super cute. I've read every post and he never mentions that. He won't let me post a picture of him so I'm going to post a picture of another cute boy and you can just imagine that it's X.

Shh!

Um. This is difficult. I really want to tell you who showed up at my door Sunday night, but I need to be careful not to say anything incriminating. This blog is still technically anonymous and everyone has a pseudonym, but anyone who knows me or is familiar with recent events in my life--say, for example, people from the Honor Code Office--would have no problem connecting the dots. So I'll just say that life is good again.

That's all. I'm going to return to enjoying my good life now.

Steadying the Ark

Spent yesterday feeling bad for being so negative and critical. I like BYU, I know the Honor Code Office exists for a reason, and it's not my job to tell them how to do theirs. And above all, I believe in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know that this is the true church and that the priesthood restored through Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery is the only true and legitimate power of God. Reading over some of my posts from the past few weeks, I'm not sure that testimony comes across, so I want to make it clear. I do have my doubts now and then, but I do my best to follow Elder Uchtdorf's counsel to doubt my doubts.

This morning I took Brother Simmons' advice and confessed to my bishop that I had acted out on my mutant power last week. He was very kind and understanding, and assured me that Heavenly Father loves me and had already forgiven me. I told him about my (now-defunct) relationship with Jan too, since her bishop had been so concerned about us dating. My bishop says that while he understands the other bishop's concern and Jan should definitely follow her priesthood leader's counsel, he doesn't think it's necessarily a bad thing for me to date, even to date other mutants. He reminded me that it is not good for man to be alone, that it's natural to want companionship and to want someone special in my life. While the Church currently does not condone mutant marriage (yes, he used the word "currently"), he thinks it's healthy for me to form positive relationships with members of the opposite sex, so long as we respect appropriate boundaries. He even said it makes sense for me to date other LDS mutants, since they cannot marry either and we can support each other in our goals to control our powers righteously.

I left that meeting with my bishop on a spiritual high. I know my Heavenly Father loves me and that he will prepare a way for me to find happiness within his kingdom.

Honor

I arrived early at the Honor Code Office, temporarily set up in the administration building while the Wilk is being rebuilt. I wanted to make it clear that I was happy to meet with them, that I had nothing to hide. Maybe it's not usually like this when they have their own office, but the poor lighting of the small room, with one single bulb shining down on me from behind a man who refused to sit down, made me feel like I was in some cheesy interrogation scene in a cop show. The man, who introduced himself as Brother Simmons, was unusually tall, had a fading blond comb-over, and wore a white shirt and tie. The tie was decorated with little blue BYU logos.

"I understand you struggle with unnatural power proclivity," Brother Simmons said.

"Yes," I said. "I'm a mutant." Members of UUPP have assured me that it's not technically against the rules to say this.

"I see." He scribbled on his notepad. "And have you used your 'power' recently?" He didn't actually make air-quotes with his fingers, but his tone made them for him.

"Yes. I was caught in the explosion in the Wilkinson Center on Christmas Eve, and I instinctively used my power to fly myself and two of my friends to safety."

"Is that the only time?"

"Yes," I said, because I had already repented of the bell tower incident and if that's good enough for God, then it should be good enough for Brother Simmons.

"Can you tell me what you were doing in the Wilkinson Center on Christmas Eve?"

"I was meeting with my writing group. One of the members of the group has an office in the Wilk." I didn't offer Tara's name in case letting her friends into her office during off-hours would get her in trouble, but the truth is he probably already knew all of that.

"I find it interesting that three self-proclaimed homosuperiors all happened to be on campus on a holiday, at the time of a homosuperior terrorist attack." He spat the word "homosuperior" like an insult. And in reality, no one really uses the term anymore unless they mean it as an insult. "Are the other two also members of  your 'writing group'?" Again with the intoned air-quotes.

I took a deep breath, doing my best to remain calm in the face of his attack, of what he was insinuating. "No. One was my girlfriend, but we're no longer dating." I wondered if that wasn't part of the purpose of calling me in today--to check on Jan's promise not to see me anymore. "If the other mutant you're referring to is Stan Kirby, I didn't know at the time that he was there. I didn't know him well at all, but I know he was not a terrorist." My hands were trembling now, probably more than anything out of fear that my bold defense of Stan would cost me the college degree I'm supposed to be getting in April.

"Mm hm." Brother Simmons nodded and jotted down a couple of notes. He peered down at me for what seemed like an eternity, then seemed to make a decision. "Well, I would encourage you to talk to your bishop about the flying incident, if you haven't already. Thank you for coming in."

"What?" I had been prepared for the worst. This was almost disappointing. "Are you going to put me on probation, like Jan?"

"No. You made a mistake, but as you said it was an instinctive response. You acted out of self-preservation. Contrary to popular belief, we are not heartless here. I understand why you did what you did, and I trust that you will not do it again."

I stood up. "What about Jan? She was trying to help other people. All I cared about was saving my own butt!"

Brother Simmons gave me a tight-lipped frown. "Jan is not your concern. You should worry about, as you say, your 'own butt.' Thank you again for coming in." He pointed to the door.

POST-SCRIPT: In searching for an image to go with this post, I came across the above on the Honor Code Office's homepage. As BYU students, we become intimately familiar with this quote from Karl G. Maeser. I find it ironic that the quote is associated with the Honor Code Office. The HCO, in my opinion, is all about building walls and trying to prevent students from escaping. They don't give us a chance to prove our honor by choosing on our own to stay within the chalk circle. Jan is one of the most honorable people I know.

My Turn!

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I've been called into the Honor Code Office. Wish me luck! (Or, you know, shoot me.)

Got this text from Jan today:

"HCO put me on probation. Cant see you anymore."

And I guess that's it.