Brattle Street Elegy: Freudian Analysis of Lehi’s Dream

My mother just emailed me to let me know about the fire; and al￾though I am typically a lurker on this site, I have to write a few words simply because I associate this building with my Mormon￾ism as much as any other single structure. First, it is good to see Brattle Street Elegy 169 several familiar names from my time as an undergraduate from the fall of ’87 through ’91. I also fondly remember Steve Row￾ley’s Gospel Doctrine lessons, although until five minutes ago, I felt my experience might have been more unique—Steve, fourteen years?!

Like others, I associate that building with intellectual inquiry that is found throughout the Church—but seemingly never in such a concentrated form. It wasn’t just Steve’s lessons, although they set one heck of a tone. In my freshman year at Harvard, I joined a study group populated with upperclassmen who, I recall, once spent two weeks (because one just wasn’t enough) discussing a Freudian interpretation of Lehi’s dream. We all agreed it was complete bunk at the end, but it wasn’t rejected out of hand, which still feels right to me. I have lost track of the friends I made in that building, which is typical of me, but the conversations during the weekly University Ward linger-longers remain special to this day.

I credit my choosing to remain in the Church with the decision I made the first Sunday in that fall of ’87 when I elected to walk to that beautiful colonial building rather than stay back in Canaday Hall with my new roommates. Had I chosen differently, for all I know the decision would have been permanent. I distinctly remember making that walk with a profound lack of conviction or testimony. In that building I moved from simply going and not really knowing why, to having the testimony that it was the right place for me to be—despite my occasional misgivings or gripes.

Six years later, in my second tour of duty in that building, I baptized my wife in its font, thanks largely to the tireless efforts of some of my graduate school classmates and the fellow members of the Cambridge Third Ward who couldn’t believe that a non-member spouse had fallen into their midst. I am eternally grateful for their efforts; as I hope will be the three beautiful girls to whom we are sealed, and their children . . .

Finally, tonight I will pray that it is rebuilt, with real bricks. Cinder blocks are an abomination as they diminish the Spirit of the Lord, but I claim no authority on this final point.