Aether

It's easy to forget there are stars when you live in Los Angeles. Let me rephrase. It's easy to forget there are stars in the sky when you live in Los Angeles. Night in the city doesn't really turn dark, just orange.

I ended up spending the weekend at my grandparents' house in southern Utah. The total population of the town where they live is approximately 120. The air is clear, the sounds are soft and natural, and there are stars. There are so many stars.

I stood on the deck for about half an hour, gazing up at them, feeling overcome with an emotion I thought I'd lost: wonder. They're still there. The Milky Way still flows. The Big Dipper still points north to Polaris. There are still tiny, blinking satellites weaving among them like alien ants.

I think that most people, myself included, spend the majority of their lives looking ahead, looking back, or looking around. It's easy to forget to look up, past the glass and rooftops, into the deep vastness, wherein lives the grand Mystery that puts all one's own tiny problems into perspective. There, nestled in the star fields, sits a profound peace that only requires a glance. I have been gone too long. That's a trend I do not wish to continue.

Conference Always Brings Rain

I returned to Utah for my birthday weekend. As with many of my trips home, it just so happened to coincide with the LDS General Conference. To the unfamiliar, born and bred outside of Utah, I would describe General Conference as a cross between a hajj and a State of the Union Address. It is a time to gather the flock and show them how to graze for the next half of a year.

In any case, the top hierarchy of the Mormon church consists of a president and a Quorum of Twelve Apostles, the leader of the latter known by the name Elder Boyd K. Packer, a man of intense conviction. This morning as I read the paper, preparing to catch a plane, I caught some of Elder Packer's words on the subject of same-sex marriage, including my favorite quote, "A law against nature would be impossible to enforce. Do you think a vote to repeal the law of gravity would do any good?"

In any case, the bloggers and pundits are all weighing in, but I'd like to take a moment to point out one glaring flaw in his tirade. Addressing the evidence that homosexuality is an innate tendency, he replied with "Not so! Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone? Remember he is our father." And there, Elder Packer, is our spiritual flaw. Allow me to elaborate.

Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone? Surely, He would not be so cruel as to condemn an innocent baby to a life of ambient animosity or an onslaught of pity. One can spend one's entire life denying science as the Devil's sceptre. One can label genetics an urban legend all one wants (and reference the marriages between uncles and nieces on FLDS compounds), but if God truly controls the way we turn out at birth, then God is one fickle father. Why would God allow a child to be born with Cystic Fibrosis, Hemophilia, Lou Gehrig's Disease, Sickle-Cell Anemia, or Asperger's Syndrome? Or would He? Are these infants willful sinners who just need to pray more? Are there camps for that?

If Elder Packer can confirm God's role in genetic disorders while refuting God's role in homosexuality, or else condemn all of the above without distinction, I may lend his words a bit more credit. If he can clarify how the sinful lack of procreation only applies to LGBT people and not sterile or celibate ones, I may pay more attention. If he can explain why the LDS Church had to restore face after funding Proposition 8 if the Church is the true source of righteousness, I may respect him more. For now, I only hear the recitations of an angry old man, and empty recitation, I have found, is the death of spirituality.