When I first asked myself the question in the title, I was wondering specifically what religion I would participate in if I weren’t Mormon. I soon tangled myself up in questions about what it means…
I met Joseph out of all Mormon context. I met him between Emerson and the Beatles, between the American Revolution and the sixties, between the conservative New England tilt of my education and the ecstatic,…
Joseph Smith received golden plates, magical translating devices, and countless visits from heavenly messengers, but a host of cognitive and cultural biases combine to render them almost commonplace in our collective Mormon memory. These supernatural events…
I have long bemoaned what I felt was an empty niche in LDS publishing—that is, a publication that is absolutely committed to upholding the doctrines and leadership of the Church but is also equally committed to exploring all aspects of living a life of faith, including its difficulties, without any sugar-coating. I wanted something that avoided both shallowness and cynicism. I’m excited about the possibilities of a new LDS women’s literary journal, Segullah, which I believe is filling that niche. With its casual, intimate tone, Segullah appeals to women of all levels of education, but its articles and poetry are thoughtful and well written without sentimentality and pat answers.
Martha Sonntag Bradley’s Pedestals & Podiums: Utah Women, Religious Authority & Equal Rights needs a new subtitle. This is the story of LDS women (in and out of Utah), religious authority, and the Equal Rights…
It is a pleasure to review this excellent book which will be a standard work on the Nauvoo Temple among the Mountain Saints for many years to come. McBride, the manager of online development at Deseret Book Company and an avid researcher, has written an easy-to-read and well-documented history of the Mormon temple at Nauvoo.
As man, is God—once.
Was—as God is man—
The old man shimminates and coughs
along the shoulder of the road
and veers like the wobble in the wheel
that brought his Airstream to a stop.
An old three-legged dog,
whiskers whitening, coat black
as the carbon of a starless winter night,
slowly hobbyhorses along
the cobblestone street near the
park green and water blue of
Gradina Cismgiu in graying Bucharest.
When your snow melts,
pick a late spring day,
and wear your Levis.