One of the major themes the current election has brought out is the increasing isolation of certain economic classes. One candidate seems to primarily appeal to one class while the other appeals to another and neither group can understand why the other would make such an irrational choice. This class division has been coming on for some time. Charles Murray, in his 2012 best seller Coming Apart, asserts “Our nation is coming apart at the seams, not ethnic seams, but the seams of class.” In a more recent best seller, Hillbilly Elegy, JD Vance tells the compelling personal story of his growing up in a culture where “poverty is the family tradition,” and most people around him feel isolated from, and betrayed by, those who are able to succeed financially.
As I have watched the election unfold, as I have read these books recently, I have been thinking about how this divisiveness is so very different from what I experience in my Mormon congregation. Mormon congregations (called wards) are determined by geography, not personal preference, so mostly we worship together with folks from all different backgrounds. I imagine this is true in many churches.
But here is a difference. Mormon churches are served by a lay ministry. This means that the leaders who minister to the needs of the members are just a regular members themselves and that many people have the opportunity to serve and minister. So we all, whatever “class” we may fall into, we all serve each other as brothers and sisters.
Here’s how it works in my ward. In our boundaries we have doctors, mechanics, lawyers, teachers, electricians, fast food workers, professors, and those who don’t have jobs at all. We might even have a drug dealer, but that is not verified. Most come to church to worship, some don’t. But we serve everyone.
Every family has home teachers and every woman has visiting teachers. These “teachers” are ward members who are assigned to watch over two or three families or women, to check in at least once a month to see how they are doing, and to offer help when needed. This means everyone has people they can call on when they need help. Home and visiting teachers help with everything from emergency childcare to meals when there is sickness to cleaning out the gutters or fixing a car. As Jeffery R. Holland, one of the Apostles of the church, explained recently, we “watch over and care for each other, addressing spiritual and temporal needs in any way that helps.” Nobody need feel isolated or alone, whatever “class” they are in.
Then there is the Bishop, a regular member of the ward with a regular job and a regular family, who answers the call to minister to the ward as a whole for a number of years, usually about 5. He is comparable to a pastor.
But I want to talk about another short-term “ministry” calling—the ward Relief Society President. Ostensibly, this woman serves as president of the ward women’s auxiliary, usually for 3-5 years. But this is about much more than organizing the Sunday meetings or the weeknight activities. It is about ministering to all the women in the ward, whatever their needs, whatever their “class.”
I have been our Relief Society president for almost 4 years now, and because of the opportunities I’ve had, the divisions between class for me have broken down. Here are a few of my experiences:
When a teenage mom living in our ward was hospitalized with a life-threatening infection a week after giving birth, there were no family members who could care for her newborn. I got to bring that sweet baby home with me and care for it for several days. A couple of years later, when that mom was working at McDonald’s and her husband was ill and on disability, we organized volunteer childcare for her children for weeks. Because the mom didn’t have a driver’s license, we organized rides to the doctor and rides to work. As I learned that mom’s story, of being abandoned by her mom, of being raised by an aunt who didn’t particularly want her, and then married before finishing high school, I came to love her and admire her for the way she tried to give her children more than she had been given.
A homeless woman was temporarily “couch surfing” with people in our ward. The bishop found a job for her. But she needed an ID card, so, over several days, I drove her to various government offices and helped her navigate red tape. Then I drove her to her drug test. Along the way, she told me her story, of family kicking her out, of bad boyfriends and bad choices and having to give up her own baby because she had no home and no way to take care of her. She wanted to make a change now. This was her chance. She left our ward not long after that and I lost contact with her. I still pray for her sometimes.
We have several Latino families in in our ward boundaries. Here is a story about one of them. They were not Mormon, but that didn’t matter. We offered food assistance and any other help we could. The mom told me of her harrowing experience walking across the Rio Grande with her baby. She and her husband raised their family of ten children in the States, some children were born in Mexico, some in the US. The mom made home-made tortillas and beans every day and her house was spotless—though the carpet was threadbare and the walls needed paint. The dad worked long hours as a landscaper and was paid in cash, “under the counter.” That meant they had no proof of employment so they couldn’t qualify for Medicare. Getting medical treatment for their children was a nightmare of navigating agencies. Since the mom couldn’t drive, I took her to the hospital and to clinics and watched her pained face as she sat at the billing desk, trying to make arrangements. The oldest daughter at home was getting A’s in honors classes, but when we helped her apply for a scholarship at the local college, the dad said that girls didn’t need to go to college and she went to work at McDonald’s. This family moved out of our boundaries, but not long ago the mom asked me to write a letter of support for their citizenship request, which I happily provided.
I have many times visited with families who found that they could not afford food. When this happens, in our church, the bishop offers assistance. Each area of the church has a “Bishop’s Storehouse,” which is like a grocery store where people can pick up food for free. This food is paid for through the fast offerings of the membership. Each month on the first Sunday we go without eating for two meals in an effort to draw closer to God. But there are also temporal benefits, as we donate the cost of the two meals (and usually much more) to be used for the poor locally (this is in addition to the ten percent we pay as tithing). As Relief Society President, I get to facilitate this process, helping the mother of the family fill out the order form, and sometimes driving her to the Storehouse to pick up the food. We also sometimes meet to discuss ways to set up a budget and improve employment so that the situation will be temporary. As I have met with these families, I am usually touched by their gratitude and their desire to get off the assistance as quickly as possible.
In a Mormon ward, the class divide closes, because we are reaching out to help each other. We care for each other not only spiritually but also temporally. But the care doesn’t just go one way. The woman who is receiving food assistance is also teaching the children’s Sunday class. The widow whose trees and shrubs were trimmed by volunteers also serves others as a visiting teacher. Everyone contributes to serving everyone else. Class begins to feel irrelevant.
We are not perfect in this, of course. But the way the organization is set up encourages this kind of caring for each other. Our goal is to reach the kind of society we read about in the Book of Mormon. We believe that for over 200 years following Christ’s visit to the Nephites here in the Americas, the people lived in a kind of Zion society: “There was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people. . . . and there were no envyings, nor strifes, nor tumults . .and surely there could not be a happier people among all the people who had been created by the hand of God” (4 Nephi:15, 16).
Another Mormon scripture defines Zion: “And the Lord called his people Zion, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them” (Moses 7:18). In a Mormon ward, we strive to dwell in righteousness, to serve each other, to have no poor among us. We try to break down barriers of class.
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