Earlier this year, I received a rather cryptic e-mail from BYU faculty relations, encouraging me to get in contact with them immediately. While strange, I assumed it to be paperwork unsigned or some “essential” HR thing that had to take place before the start of spring term. This email came through at 4:58pm on a Friday, so I wasn’t able to connect with the sender until the following Monday. Monday morning, three days before the start of Spring semester (I had two good-sized classes that I had on my schedule whom I had already been in communication with), I made contact with the faculty relations, and immediately upon identifying myself, detected a shift in the employee’s voice, telling me immediately and without much small talk, “I’m calling about a touchy situation, and I want you to know this is the least favorite part of my job…” My heart sank, beginning to pound as he told me in a sympathetic tone that my Ecclesiastical Endorsement had been denied, and that I was officially terminated as a BYU employee as of that morning. He went on to tell me that my classes were now stripped from my schedule and would be re-assigned to another faculty. I felt a ringing in my ears, followed by an intense pressure as blood rushed to my face---ironically, my first reaction was to simply laugh. “Okay…” I answered, feigning calm. “This is a complete surprise to me,” I replied “I am assuming there has been some mistake? Can I ask what were the grounds for my termination?” There was a light pause, after which he responded, “I’m sorry, all I can tell you is that your Bishop found that he couldn’t endorse you in regards to living the standards asked of all BYU employees. I am so sorry…I highly recommend you contact him and seek to resolve this issue. I wish you all the best.” I stood there for a while, I’m not sure how long, dumbfounded.
Overcome with confusion, fear, sadness, and bewilderment, I sat down on a chair near my dresser and tried to control my breathing. My husband walked into the room, preparing to leave for work, and saw my face. “What’s wrong?!” he asked, alarmed, as he came over and knelt down so that he was eye-level with me---“I just got off the phone with BYU,” I said shakily, “they told me I’ve been fired…” His response was immediate, his confusion and anger apparent---“they what? Who did you talk to? What did they say?” I relayed the phone call to him; by this time, the emotion that had welled up in my chest was now overflowing as I gasped for breath, sobbing. My world had just come crashing down around me, and I had no idea why, though I began to wonder if, after all, I perhaps did know why---
Looking back, with a few months of hindsight, it is now clear that my suspicions were correct. In summary, I eventually learned that a lesson I taught in Gospel Doctrine in which I referenced the church’s 2013 essay on Race and the Priesthood (I wrote about that experience here[1]) had set off a wave of suspicion and investigation (both by individuals and by my ecclesiastical leaders) towards my character and intentions as an academic. My blogs were combed through, my social media conversations monitored, and the eventual conclusion drawn by those “in authority” over me was that I was (and I use the exact words that were told to me) a “wolf in sheep’s clothing,” exhibiting the behavior of a trained “predator,” with the intent to “groom” people into a seemingly gospel conversation, only to then interject doubt-promoting material with the intent to dismantle and destroy testimonies.
These conclusions of my character were drawn without ever engaging me the in discussion, without ever meeting with me in person, or extending a phone call to connect and clarify. I, like Hester Prynn, had been given a scarlet letter, though at the time I was unaware.
The irony of that conclusion is that in my time as an educator and academic in church employ, I had made it my specific intent to use my voice and my classroom to KEEP people in the church. To rally around them and allow for safe-places of honest, hard discussion of relative issues while drinking deeply from the living waters that only Christ can offer. This was my calling, this, this is my strength.
When I heard those words---"wolf in sheep’s clothing,” “predator,” “groom,”---something inside of me split wide open, crumbling pieces of my semi-naïve and bleeding heart all over the floor of my soul, leaving them in a pile of disarray. To put it simply, those words broke me. A LIFETIME of supposed “by the book” LDS living flashed before my eyes---a BYU degree, a full-time mission, marriage in the temple, lovingly accepted callings within the Relief Society and Young Women’s programs and the sacred experiences I had while serving in those capacities---all of these things, suddenly challenged and invalidated by the conclusion of one man who not only did NOT know me, but hadn’t taken the time to know me before stamping a status of “not worthy” on my file.
Jump back in time with me to 2009---I was a freshly returned, bright eyed, and motivated missionary. I had served in the New York Rochester and Church Historic Sites mission. Full of passion for the gospel, church history, and religion in general, I remember kneeling in private prayer after I had my formal release, gently removing my name-tag and setting it beside me on my bed, and pleading with the Lord through hands folded in obeisance that if it be His will, that I might always be engaged in some formal capacity to preach the gospel.
Through miracles and hard work, I graduated in 2014 with an MA in Biblical Studies and was immediately hired by BYU to teach Ancient Scripture courses at the BYU Salt Lake Center.
My soul was overflowing with a love of my new-found ministry, my passion for the restored gospel, for those students who entered the sacred walls of the classroom to engage with me in study of the ancient texts we hold as scripture. Growing up with a CES/Scripture Translation employed father, I was well versed in the conundrums of LDS history and even more well versed in the dynamics of scriptural interpretation and hermeneutical approaches. I imagined myself not unlike an orchestra conductor, guiding my students through the music of religious scholarship, motivating them with my direction, love, and enthusiasm, and encouraging unity and beauty as a product of their study and dedication to their discipleship.
Being a young mother, this wasn’t an easy task, requiring my little family to juggle our children, my husband’s full time-schedule, and my PT employment and responsibilities in the home. Despite the stresses of juggling the realities of being a working mother, there was no doubt in my mind that this is where God wanted me to be. Semester after semester of strong student-ratings accompanied by individual letters from my students, expressing gratitude for the unique nature of my classroom (I was known for my open-minded approach to scripture, classroom discussions, and my passion for transformation in Christ) seemed to continuously reinforce that God was with me on this path. Despite the continuous and internal discussion I was having with myself on issues of LDS theology, culture, interpretation and practice, my students gave me hope for the future of Zion. Interacting with them, guiding them through the scriptures, and having opportunity after opportunity to bear my witness of the Savior and the Book of Mormon were truly some of the most sacred and soul-lifting experiences I have ever encountered.
Jump back with me now to mid-May. A day previous to my phone call from BYU, I was excitedly looking forward to a PhD program starting that fall, the courses lined up for me to teach in the next three semesters were full or filling---my future seemed clear and immovable. This future, this clear vision I thought I had for myself, was yanked from my hands held in limbo for the next several weeks, as it became clearer to me that this situation was not going to remedy quickly.
For the next few months, anxiety and depression became my constant companions. I’d have a few good days, followed by some trigger that would set me into uncontrollable sobbing, unhealthy long hours of sleep, or both. I strove to tap-into the Christlike virtues that allow one to endure such trials---humility, long-suffering, meekness. I was counseled by many who I had confided in “not to get too angry,” or to “imagine how bad the Bishop must feel about all of this.” None of those perspectives seemed to lend me any clarity.
In summary, while my Bishop and I resolved our differences and he humbly admitted he had been in error to deny my endorsement, the damage was done and BYU’s HR personnel refused to allow my department to re-hire me. I was told if I chose to go through the re-hire process, I was welcome to, but my application would be screened and reviewed along with any other qualified applicant. My resume would have to pass through HR before Ancient Scripture received it, and IF that happened, it was made clear that there were no guarantees that I would be re-hired. I was then invited to re-apply. After many tears and soul-searching, I politely responded that I was grateful for the past 5 years of incredible work in the classroom, but that I would not be re-applying to my former position, and I wished them well in their pursuit of a replacement.
When I say that I felt something inside of me split wide open and crumble onto the floor of my soul, there is no exaggeration in that description. And yet, with death comes new growth, with the breaking down, the potential for a building up. No mud, no lotus.
While I am still processing the implications of my situation, the tragedy I see in this is that 1) our Bishops are not sufficiently trained. Period. They have the ability to make decisions that can alter the very life-trajectory of an individual, and in the name of their Priesthood keys, this power is justified. When I consulted with BYU’s HR department as to whether or not they ask Bishops if they have consulted with the person in question before an endorsement is denied, I was given the rather terse and gas-lighting response of “Bishops retain full discretion in assessing endorsement matters involving ward members. BYU does not dictate, to any degree, how a bishop would communicate these matters individually with their ward members.” Thus, in my case, a judgement about my intentions were made without ME ever being a part of that discussion. This is dangerous and problematic. When I pointed that out to BYU and asked how this reflects the Lord’s system of “righteous judgement,” I received no response.
Please note that I left my department on good terms. My five years with Ancient Scripture were wonderful, full of training and mentorship, etc. However, when my situation was made apparent to my department, despite words of sympathy, I received no support in my battle to combat HR. While problematic in itself, being a woman in academia at BYU is additionally hard for reasons that hundreds of individuals have made clear, with stories similar to mine. Thus, my #2) I hope that those who remain at BYU will seek a way to rectify this potentially disastrous policy between HR and Bishops. To be clear, I don’t challenge the system of endorsements, but challenge the fact that there are zero measures in place to assure that a Bishop doesn’t abuse his power.
In summary, for my friends who are wondering where I stand in my relation to the church, my answer to you is this---I stand HERE in my space. This space of frustration, insight, growth, sadness, rage, and genuine authentic response. Which is where I think I will be fore a long while. In many ways, this experience has forced me to “retreat into the wilderness” of my soul and reflect deeply on things that I had perhaps put at bay while employed at BYU. I intend to use this time and space to write a series of essays that I will call “Inquisitions.” I will be critically addressing my lived experiences within the church system, as well as concerning points of doctrine and culture. I invite any who desire to follow me on this journey, or simply to understand my perspective, to follow.
“Enlightenment arrives like a thief in the middle of the dark night of the soul.”-Stefan Emunds