I had a cold yesterday.  I sat in the foyer, took the bread and water, and left.

My mind is usually pretty active.  Everywhere I go I carry with me a superstructure of plans, goals, attitudes, and mythmaking.  I like it that way.

But it was nice to be too run down for any of that.  It was nice to experience the sacrament and the spirit of it without any preconceptions, hopes, or narrative.

We got a Christmas card this year that said something like “celebrating the birth of the great I AM.”  It is a juxtaposition that startles if you let it, a little baby being born and the great I AM, Jehovah Lord of Armies and a helpless infant.

As a holiday, though, Christmas is just about Him.  At Easter, we do and should think about our personal benefit in tough and intimate terms from the Saviour’s victory over death and sin.  At Christmas, its all about the baby.  So its appropriate that we celebrate Him in all his aspects.  It’s appropriate that it makes for a great party.

Enjoy the season, enjoy the Christ child, enjoy your family. And if you have a moment for some cozy quiet, curl up and enjoy one of these links.

“For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.”

Enjoy these goodies. (more…)

Tomorrow I will have to get the paper bags that I forgot, and maybe one or two other things.  It will probably be crowded aisles and uncrowded shelves.  The people will be tired.  Not jolly, but mostly kind.

You last minute shoppers, I salute you.  You care enough to put together a Christmas even when its frantic.  You care enough to vow you’ll get going sooner next year, and when you invariably don’t, to decide to do the best you can with the short time you have left.  You love Christmas too much.  The great hopes you have are too merry for this earth, so you put your prep off until you have no choice, and you head out to follow the star and see if it will lead you to something wonderful even in the chaos and mess of a stable.

The angel choirs practiced for millennia.  The shepherds came as they were.

By chance three young men met at the beginning of the Path, the one true Path that runs east of the Moon and west of the Sun, the Path whose entrance is hidden and narrow.

Each marveled that he had found the Path and marveled that fate had sent him companions with which to travel it.

“Are you like me, gentlemen?”  the dark-haired one said.  “I found the path by reading old books and discovering the lies that modern scholars told.  I asked the questions they avoided and traced the logical implications that they refused to even acknowledge.  The gap in the leaves that leads here was hard to find, but it was there, and they said it was not.  So I walked through it.  Was it the same with you?”

“No!” the freckled one said brightly.  “One night I heard music.  I got up from my bed and followed it to a dark crossroads, where a voice from the wood told me to always follow signs and  my heart.  I rush in without thinking about the consequences, because I know it will be all right.  Today I saw a dove flying and it shone like it was purest gold.  A crow larger than I have ever seen rose up and attacked it.  I was angry, and called on the powers that be to drive off this crow, because the dove was fair and beautiful.  When I did, an eagle swooped down and struck the crow.  The dove flew on and I followed it here.”

The third one with yellow hair looked curiously at them both.  “I am here,” he said slowly, “because my grandfather and my father walked this path when they were my age.  They told me to come.  They showed me the way.”

The freckled one laughed.  “I love how different our stories are.  We should become companions on this Path.  It is obviously meant to be.”

The dark-haired one nodded.  “Mutual aid and taking advantage of unexpected good fortune such as this are policies that maximize expected value in outcomes.  It is not probable that our presence here at the same time is coincidence.”

The other boy agreed.  “Like my father and grandfather always said, ‘Journey with friends, you’ll all win your ends.'”

Then, because it felt right, because it was customary, because an understanding of evolved human nature suggested it would have positive effects on the primitive subconscious, they clasped hands and swore fellowship.

“Where is your God now?”

(more…)

In today’s marketplace—yes, in your own neighborhood, town, and cities—scheming, deceiving promoters are making available to gullible purchasers all kinds of enticing offers. We are sorry to report thousands within our ranks are being duped by the glib tongues of those who offer and solicit in whispers. “Once in a lifetime opportunities” and “Just for you” approaches are unusual no more. Such offerings and deals should be avoided like a plague.

I believe the Lord wants us to become alarmed and concerned when we see the wicked and unscrupulous taking unfair advantage of the weak and uninformed. No Latter-day Saint should exploit another man’s situation, manipulate, lie, steal, cheat, or deceive. Our responsibility is to assist each other in avoiding involvements that can be devastating to our welfare.

-Elder Marvin J. Ashton, from his talk “Give with Wisdom that They may Receive with Dignity”

I’ve seen any number of people express the regret that the brightest minds in our generation are devoted to inventing subtler financial manipulations and more addictive online ad platforms. (more…)

We live in a vast charnel house, a morgue, a knacker’s yard . . .  Dead people, dead animals, odd ends of decaying meat are just laying around, heaped up there, rotting here, a stray piece rolled into that corner.  Its easy to get sick.  A little cut can swell into a great putrid infection.  A little carelessness with your food, you can be puking for  a week.  Its easy to die.

If you want to thrive, you have wear masks at all times, have to be careful where you step, have to follow careful rituals, can’t afford to slack off.  You and your whole house.  You can’t do it by yourself.  Every one with painstaking care when they are outside, at all times.  Everyone following the most stringent procedures when they come back inside the House.

But not enough do it.  Too many live diseased, crippled, and high-mortality lives.  It is difficult not to.  It is very difficult.  And there are agitators who wander through the decay without mask or glove, proclaiming their freedom.  No one else can shout as loud as they can, as they wear no mask.  No one can easily refute their lies that careful living is joyless, because the joy is in the Houses, and no one can go to one, not really, until they have joined it and are washed and cleaned and passed through quarantine.

The strict rules of hygiene are hard, but now with the agitators they are harder.  We can be mocked and attacked for our masks and our gloves.

Some of us wonder why we have be so extreme.  (Those of us are getting the infections and dying off.) Some Houses wonder if they could not spread the word of hygiene better if they weren’t so rigid about it. Masks and washing and stuff appears so alien, we need a hygiene that speaks to today’s youth. After all, the message of hygiene is ultimately a message of health and hope, not despair and grimness. So these Houses wash without washing and ward off disease without warding it off, and perish.

Daily reminder that childlessness is death, libertinism is decay, and we Americans live in a strong, free, and prosperous . . . charnel house.

From Columbus Day, through Thanksgiving, we celebrate the rich heritage of Settler-Americans, including Colonial-Americans, Pioneer-Americans, English-Americans, Scots-Irish Americans, and Conquistador-Americans, and honor their vibrant contribution to our national fabric.

From their curious folkways such as freedom under law, square dancing, and white guilt, to their various scientific achievements and inventions, such as calculus, the Chia pet, toilet paper, and marketing, truly they are part of who we are!

I took my family to see Palmyra recently. My wife had been there before, but none of the rest of us had. One thing I’ve learned about Mrs. C is that she doesn’t really have the fourth-dimensional sense of wonder at occupying a historically significant spot of earth. I can personally attest that she’s much more excited to enjoy a Caesar salad than she was to visit Caesar’s tomb. Which isn’t to say she doesn’t find history interesting, just that she doesn’t take any special pleasure in retracing its steps.

“It’s a gift, you know, being able to feel history in certain places. My mom has it. We’d visit Church historical sites, and she would ask me, ‘Can you feel that?’ But I never really did.” (more…)

A friend of mine … asked his son what he wanted to be, whom he would want to be like. His son named a member of the ward who lived nearby, a man he had admired for some time. Don drove his son to where the man lived.

As they sat in their automobile in front of his home, they observed the man’s possessions and his way of life. They also discussed his kindness and generosity, his good name and integrity. They discussed the price their neighbor had paid to become what he was: the years of hard work, the schooling and training required, the sacrifices made, the challenges encountered. The affluence and seeming ease with which he now lived had come about as the result of diligent toil toward his righteous goals and the blessings of the Lord.

The son selected other men whom he deemed models of successful and righteous living and learned from a wise father the stories of their lives.

-thus Rex d. Pinegar.  What an excellent model.  Young men in the church should be spending their time with older men.  The primary good of a camp out is usually the conversations over the campfire or while hiking.  It is really surprising how little the young know about the lives of their elders and how much they like to hear those stories when given a chance.

The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.

What a nice sentiment, you are thinking. Wrong, child. It should be keeping you awake at night. Properly understood, it is cosmic horror. (more…)

This is a talk I gave at Church.  I had a blast.

The Book of Mormon is for our times.  We all know about the Great and Spacious Building that Lehi saw.  It was towering up in the air and full of people with fancy clothes pointing and laughing and it had no foundation.  It made lots of people lose their way because they were ashamed or wanted to get to it.

The Book of Mormon is for our times.  It means that in our times we have to worry about bullying and mocking from prominent people, about trying to be high status, and fashions.  So let’s talk about that. (more…)

13 years ago my little daughter died of cancer. This is what I wrote on her birthday that year, with slight updates since. Today would be Betsey’s 17th birthday.

My wife baked her a cake.  I bought a few balloons and ordered flowers for her grave.

Happy Birthday, Betsey Pearl.

Today our grief for you is fresh.

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