Star of David

Sometimes I wear a Star of David. I have a lot, the last couple weeks.

A couple hundred years ago, roughly, I had great great great grandparents married in a British Israelite wedding. I don't know what that religious designation and choice meant to them, but I have my own theories. Though it certainly irks many of my family members when I say it, I'm happy to call on that mother's mother's mother's mother's line, and carry on a Jewish heritage. Obviously I'm Mormon. I'm Christian. But as a Bible lover, I'm only too happy to take on this heritage that rings only too true with me. In me I see that same stubbornness and pride, a life of blatant answers and miracles from God, feeling chosen, but still being a stupid head in acceptance of it all. The Bible speaks to me like no other book of scripture ever has. Sorry Book of Mormon! You may have been "written for me," but that Bible was DEFINITELY written for me.

So I've been wearing my Star of David. It's a symbol that may have literally had nothing to do with King David. They honestly don't know. As with most symbols, it means different things to different people. Different times and generations interpret it differently. But I know what it means to me.

To me, the Star of David is about the union of men and women to perfection. If you've seen the Da Vinci Code movie, you've seen Ian McKellan hold his fingers to points, demonstrating the Blade, or symbol of manhood. You've seen him hold his wrists together, demonstrating the Chalice, or womanhood. Da Vinci Code shows you the two pyramids at the Louvre, one on top of the other, but I prefer putting them together, to form the Star of David.

As a Mormon, I've felt, very often, the painful distinctions placed between the genders. Don't get me wrong! I believe men and women are different - that we have very different roles, HOWEVER, the Church continues to teach that one of those genders is assigned the position of "presiding," which, though I may go to Hell, I disagree with. Are we supposed to run our families like corporations, where we have a CEO? No. We're equals. Equals don't need someone to preside. Being married to a man, where once I was single, I am more acutely aware now than I ever was that we are equals. Nathan, my dear husband, does not have a more "preside-y" spark than I do. Equals don't need a preside-er. That just makes family life and equality that much more confusing for everyone involved.

So I've been wearing my Star of David and finding that true "equality" comfort where I can, because unfortunately, I don't find it in the Church. Yet? Together we are beautiful. Together we complete each other. And only together. We BOTH need that New and Everlasting Covenant stipulation put on us, preferably without polygamy hanging over one of our heads, but I digress.

Brushing my teeth, the other night, I was admiring my necklace and pondering on what it means to me. And I got to thinking. About stars in general. About how there are many different types of stars, and about how they all have their own meaning. I looked at that "chalice" portion of the Star of David, pondering on my own roles, and realized, frankly, that if we made a star out of that, it would be an inverted one.

I worried the role of women might be Satanic, for a moment, until I calmed myself and reminded me that that's a relatively recent way of looking at an inverted star. No, we have inverted stars on our temples that, they say, are symbols of Christ.

Nauvoo has a ton of these. Nauvoo sports their traditional inverted star windows, but additionally interspersed with another inverted star, with a stretched out bottom. Traditionally, this inverted star represented Venus. For Christians, it was the coming of Christ, or the downward flow of revelation. 

I realized that it was fallen. Not in a bad way, mind. We're all fallen, thanks to Adam and Eve. But this star represented coming into mortality. I found that a beautiful thing, knowing that that star was created by, and represented by my very own gender's chalice.

It reminded me of a scholar's testimony I had read once, of why she was a member of our church, BECAUSE she was a feminist. She laid out a new way of thinking about genders and roles in our religion, that blew my mind, and has changed absolutely everything for me. She spoke of two trees, two roles, Adam and Eve, Mortality and Salvation. Eve, our Mother, made everything possible, by her willingness to fall, and create life. Adam was given his own ordinances to perform on our behalf, with the priesthood, to get us back from the fall. Motherhood with its ordinances, and Fatherhood, with its. Both essential, good, and ultimately, perfecting. 

But only together. Just as the one who falls needs ordinances to be saved, you cannot be saved unless you fall. If you're reading this, your momma got your back on that one already. She got you here. But just because her specific work for you is done in 9 months, and your dad is going to be baptizing you and dragging you through the temple for the next 18 years, doesn't mean your dad is in charge. His role is just different. 

I realized that though the Star of David and its specific origin is unknown, I appreciate what it means to me. To me it symbolizes US, having gone through everything, and ultimately attaining Godhood. It is the symbol of us. It is a symbol of a God - one who has fallen and risen again. One who has been through water and fire and stands, now, pure and impenetrable. 

My husband was falling asleep as I attempted the broach the conversation with him, and discuss the possibility that perhaps Ruin and Preservation, from Mistborn, would be better represented with a female Ruin, and a male Preservation, because women are the ones who bring the fall, bring the chaos, while men "repair" it. He didn't want to talk about it, but I was excited nonetheless. 

Being One

As I was tidying up around the house today and doing laundry, I found myself thinking.

Yes, this again. Thinking.

I was pondering on my new home, my new ward, new people, new opportunities, etc. As I often do, I doubted myself, and worried about how things would work out. I’m more than aware that I’m an overweight tomboy with Depression, that I’m a Democrat in a red state, that I’m a member of The Church, yet disagree with many of the current policies and culture, and that my opinionated, brutally honest soul can be a large deterrent for some. Because of these things, I hate moving. I hate having to start over, take all those social risks again, and decide, ultimately, how I want to define myself anew – will I take the route of leadership, speaking and being myself without fears, or do I take the route of being a quiet observer who attends, but doesn’t put my whole self out there, or risk offending. I’ve gone both routes, and I definitely see the pros and cons of each.

Cleaning, I began to wonder what Christ meant when He said that “If ye are not one, ye are not mine.” How can God’s people be “one,” when they are so obviously different?

The Bible tells of the apostles approaching Christ with a dilemma, not coincidentally following the telling of these same apostles arguing about which one of them would be better than the other in Heaven. The apostles told Christ of this problem – that they had seen a man casting out devils in Christ’s name, and he wasn’t even one of His apostles. Christ’s apostles had tried to stop the man, but Christ corrected them, telling them not to, stating, “He that is not against us is for us.” To me, this story begins to sum up the concept of “one.”

What makes us God’s? What makes someone a person that God would want to claim ownership of – to state, “Ye are mine”? What is this thing that we can all have in common, that we can all be “one” on, despite all of our differences?

To me, I think the answer boils down to the first and second great commandments – love of God, and love of our neighbor.

This is something that everyone can do. You can be Mormon, you can be Buddhist, you can be Muslim, you can be Baptist. You can be Republican, you can be Democrat, or you can be a Libertarian. You can like classical music, you can like Emo music, or even Spice Girls. You can be from Norway or Liberia. Everyone can love God, and everyone can love their neighbor. Love is what can make us “one.” The capacity to love is not limited to the sinless or perfect. It isn’t limited to those who follow the status quo, or fit “the mold.” Love is an action that happens with each moment, with each decision. It is a choice that can turn into a habit, which can shape a life.

The man who cast out devils in Christ’s name, who was not an apostle, had love. He was casting out devils. He cared enough about someone to do so on their behalf. He did it in the name of Christ, a sure show of faith, and likely subsequent love for God. The apostles looked down on this man, feeling that he didn’t belong, that he didn’t have the right, or place among them they felt was required. He didn’t “fit in.” But Christ taught that he did. His love put him on God’s side. God owned this man for his love, irregardless of his official status among them, or even his background or experience. Love broke any other perceived requirement to “belong.”

This comforted me, and taught me as well. Love is the motivation that counts, and frankly, it doesn’t matter who I am, or what side of me I show. So long as I am loving, I belong. So too others. If they are loving, our differences don’t matter. They can even like Spice Girls. If they have the ability to love, then we can be “one” with God.