On Being Spiritually Left-Handed

When I was young and sitting in a boring Chemistry class, I once decided to write all my class notes with my left-hand, even though I am right-handed. I did it for quite a number of weeks. I had heard somewhere that writing with the non-dominant hand helps with retention of new information (which probably isn’t true, but Chemistry being what it was for me, I thought I would try anything at that point.)

I remember the focus I had to muster to make my hand translate what my brain was trying to put down. The letters came out squiggly. A task so simple for my other hand transformed the pen in my fingers into something completely foreign. Even my brain felt like it was cramping up. Not only was it awkward, but the results were sloppy, illegible at first. I did get better at it over time, but it took a lot of concentration.

I share this as an imperfect metaphor of my experience in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which has been not too different from being left-handed in a spiritually right-handed church. The good part is, this has not been a bad thing! Let me explain what I mean.

There is plenty of tension in the world right now between what we have labelled “the political left” and “the political right.” Fortunately or unfortunately, this spills over into other aspects of life, including at church. I will call conservative members “spiritually right-handed” whenever they are focused on conserving parts of church culture, tradition, and policy that they feel are important, and I will call progressive members “spiritually left-handed” whenever they want to improve or change those same things that they believe are detrimental to our progress.

I recognize this is reductive to the complexity of a wide range of political, social, and spiritual views, because a person could be “left” or “right” handed in any number of issues (a person can write with their right hand and pitch with their left, after all) but it is worth pointing out that whether someone is predominantly “right” or “left’ handed, bringing a diverse group of left and right-handed worshipers together in the same church does pose some challenges. It also provides remarkable opportunities for growth.

On Discovering That I Was Left-Handed

I was in my early twenties when I came to terms with the fact that I was spiritually left-handed. For context, I am a participating latter-day saint who also identifies as gay. In those developmental years spent trying to conform to heterosexual identity, I tried to fit in politically and socially as well, and that meant adapting to a really difficult situation. In other words, not unlike those midcentury left-handed pupils who, at least according to my mother, had their knuckles struck by their teacher if they were ever caught using the wrong hand, I grew up learning to take spiritual notes with my right hand.

Looking back, though many have had different experiences than me, I consider my formative years to be a blessing in the end. Not because I think my church culture did a great job supporting me as a gay member (to be honest it didn't; having to grow up terrified of strange feelings that were barely mentioned except in shameful whispers or ridiculed during quorum activities is not something I would wish on anyone) nevertheless the time spent writing with my right hand helped me gain skills I wouldn’t otherwise have learned.

I came to value what a conservative perspective of the gospel brings. I gained a personal testimony of covenants and religious traditions related to priesthood authority and prophetic voices. This includes commandments around same-sex relationships, as currently taught by church leaders. As I wrestled with the doctrines of Christ with my non-dominant hand, I learned to respect the capable right-handed leaders who were sincere in their efforts to follow Christ, and whose gifts and perspectives, though sometimes different from my own, helped me to see things I would not have otherwise seen. 

Nevertheless I confess that being in a battalion of right handed warriors, the sword of truth always felt a little clumsy to my grip. It wasn’t until much later that I learned that I was even allowed to use my other hand. It was a liberation! And the best part of it was that the gospel of Jesus Christ gave me insight into progressive ideals that fit more closely what I was experiencing as someone who struggled with belonging, especially in a church where conservativism was as dominant in the church culture as right-handedness.

The realization that I was spiritually left-handed came for me during the church’s involvement in Proposition 8 in 2008, which was to maintain the definition of marriage to be between a man and a woman in California. Through the Proclamation to the World on the Family, church culture had by and large established itself as a bastion of Christian conservatism, at least when it came to questions of sexuality and family relationships. The mental notes we were taking in Sunday School back then emphasized over and over that marriage was only between a man and a woman, and that gay members and their allies should have no place among the saints. In fact, we were dangerous. I remember one member suggesting we should round up the gays and shoot them. It took me a few minutes to process that they were talking about me. I was the “them.” I was sitting in the same room with him on those same metal grey chairs.

As the rhetoric and urgency to “defend the family” reached its frenzy in the chapels and classrooms of Provo where I was attending BYU, Sunday after Sunday I heard about this army of gays coming to destroy the family. It was exhausting! I had personally felt the love of Jesus Christ many times in the church, and I was quite baffled by what I was hearing. How was I destroying Brother so-and-so’s marriage? Was I really the enemy within the gates, lurking in the pews? I knew I was hiding my sexuality to fit in, so maybe that made me the exception. They couldn’t really be talking about me, right? And yet I had close friends who had left the church to pursue same-sex relationships, and they didn't seem to want to destroy anyone's family, either. They were good, often abundantly compassionate people trying to do the best they could with a difficult situation. I watched them struggle with the decision to choose between their sexuality and their faith. It was heartwrenching.

And then there were those liberals. Those dang liberals. I remember one acquaintance during that same year walking ahead of me into the priesthood session of General Conference, pointing to a man and saying to his Aaronic priesthood aged sons, “See that man? He voted for Obama!” To which his son said in disgust, “Ugh, what is he even doing here?” As a Canadian, I found this strange conflation of religious and political identity nauseating, especially in a setting meant to foster brotherhood.

The culture wars continue to divide us and blind us in ways I still struggle to wrap my head around. At the time back then, I had never even considered myself a liberal. I barely even knew what it meant. I thought it meant you drank diet coke or got a tattoo. But now I was hearing that no threat to this church could compare to the liberals. Or at least, that was how it was perceived in the late 2000s. And if I agreed with any platform designated liberal, I was deceived. Unfortunately, I am not sure if things have improved today. Much of our political discussions, even among members of the church, feels like it has flung itself headfirst into crazyland. No matter what degree of insanity exists on the right, the liberals will always remain the bigger threat. The disillusionment this has brought to many members who find themselves on the left cannot be overstated.

As I came to understand firsthand how certain policies and cultural attitudes at church affected same-sex attracted members, I started to question whether taking the sword in hand to defend our traditional understanding of homosexuality was really the best way to help same-sex attracted members. I wished so much to see the sword of truth migrate to the left hand of my brothers and sisters at church, to fight for my place with them, to see them fight for me instead of against me!

After much deliberation, even though the church will likely never change doctrine about chastity and marriage, I concluded years ago that the church, or the culture at least, needed to change certain policies and practices if I were going to survive. For so long I had learned to adapt to “right-handedness” when it came to understanding my sexuality and been blessed by their perspective. But now it was my brothers’ and sisters’ turn.

And luckily for me, I can say most have. The timing for me was a miracle. While simply being out and gay would easily have led to disciplinary action in previous years, I can breathe freely serving in my calling and attending the temple without too much worry. But I know that is not the case for everyone. Many, including personal friends, still live in closets because their church congregations are simply not safe. I am confident it is getting better, but it’s important to realize that these changes don’t happen by themselves.

What brings about this change? Well, it is those much maligned progressives, those dang libtards cutting through prejudice with their left hands both inside and outside of the church. This includes gay rights activists who, no matter how much I might disagree with them on moral issues even now, have nevertheless fought for a greater understanding of gay identities and protected my right to exist. I owe them so much.

A Right Handed Church?

While the Church has always tried to maintain political neutrality, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, like most religions, has a robust legacy for preserving tradition with right-handed fervor. There is nothing wrong with being spiritually right handed. Right-handedness is vital. In this church, right-handed members remind us of covenants God made with His people anciently, and how holding onto these covenants can bring strength in new or challenging situations. Right-handedness gives stability in a world that is increasingly unmoored from moral safeguards. Right-handedness maintains a sense of familiarity in a world that feels very uncertain. I admire how spiritually right-handed members take what is good in tradition, including ordinances, doctrines, policies, and preserve them, conserve them, and help keep Christ the center of our worship. We need our right hand to connect us to truths that have been the bedrock of our relationship with God for thousands of years. I love my spiritually right handed brothers and sisters! They have saved me from some of my more hasty and headlong left-handed impulses many, many times.

There is also much in our church history which could be considered enormously progressive, or “left-handed.” For example, I am enamored with teachings from Joseph Smith about an inclusive Zion where there are no poor among us, in a society where we are of one heart and one mind. Joseph Smith was a true left-handed progressive when he challenged institutional Christianity to restore a church based on revelation and lost truths about the inclusivity of God's love. But I am also discouraged when we fail to measure up to that ideal. 

When I ponder what it will take to maintain Brother Joseph’s progressive vision of the Kingdom of God, I am convinced it will require a lot of innovative, and revelatory change. We will need to spend at least as much time repenting of wicked cultural practices and traditions as we do retrenching ourselves in the traditions and doctrines worth holding onto. It will require discernment to know the difference, as well as both prophetic and personal revelation working together.

But make no mistake, building Zion will require both hands.

Jesus is Ambidextrous, And We Can Learn to Be Ambidextrous, Too

I find a lot of peace reading about the moments in Jesus’ ministry when he used his “left hand” over his right one to challenge the religious institutions of his day. It seems He was most fierce when putting down pharisaical wickedness that used established law and traditional interpretations of doctrine to oppress those suffering at the margins. I think this resonates with me so much because that person has often been me. For years, I was labeled and treated as unclean because of who I am. LGBT members, even faithful covenant keeping men and women, have long been misunderstood and pushed out by well-meaning churchmen for centuries. I love the left-handedness of Jesus that reaches after me when I feel misjudged or forgotten, and He helps me feel his unconditional love.

I also appreciate Jesus operating with His right hand to establish a church that functions to maintain doctrinal authority based on scriptural truths and commandments. Those laws and commandments have protected me and brought me rich blessings. I see Him holding out His right hand to me to honor His covenant to save his people, even promising to reach me in great affliction. He does it through ancient rituals and ordinances that He invites me (me!) to be a part of. I love the right-handedness of Jesus, that through obedience to His commandments I can be gathered into his arms, both his arms, like a hen that is gathering her chicks.

We are His hands and we are His eyes. Because we are a predominantly right-handed church, for too long we have misinterpreted Jesus’ teachings to cut off our left hand and pluck out our left eyes whenever they offend us. (Matthew 5:29-30) Whether on the right or the left, it is our own sins that we should pluck and cut out, never each other!

Of course, left-handed members must learn to value and rely on right-handed brothers and sisters. But if we are currently living in a right-handed church, our focus should be on seeking out those who have been turned away because they do not fit the right-handed mold. They are desperately seeking Christ’s healing, too. By discernment, we can do this and still maintain doctrinal purity and prophetic authority. If we do not, all of us, both those who leave and those who stay, will find ourselves all the more blind and hobbled with missing limbs and missing eyes, having lost the full spectrum of gifts we need to fulfill our sacred mission to prepare the world for Jesus Christ. It is that age old Book of Mormon fragmentation into tribes. It is the disease we are facing now. It is spiritual leprosy in the body of Christ to lose members of our community whose gifts we so desperately need.

Luckily for us, the road to Zion is paved with repentance. The atonement brings wholeness, including wholeness in our congregations. Change is good. It will be alright. And perhaps in some church meetings, like I did in my Chemistry class, we can each try writing testimony with our non-dominant hand. It might feel awkward and your writing will be messy. But keep on trying! See where leaning into your weakness gets you. See the people you once considered enemies, and how they can help you with your wobbly hand.

You will learn to appreciate and love them in ways you never thought you could.