The LDS concept of divinity perpetuates the sexism, homophobia, and transphobia inherent in the LDS church’s teachings and traditions.
LDS theology teaches us that we have a heavenly father and a heavenly mother. Although we know very little about Heavenly Father, we know even less about Heavenly Mother.
LDS theology teaches us that Heavenly Father is who we pray to, and it is to whom we assign all appearances of divinity to humans (even if there is no indication in scripture that the appearance was gendered).
Contrastingly, we are discouraged from praying to Heavenly Mother, the scriptures are mostly silent about her, and no president of the church has presented to the general church body a revelation on her: her nature, her role, her history, her interactions with humans. Nothing.
LDS theology also teaches us that Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother are in a partnered relationship—some people label this “marriage”—and that they are the parents of the spirits that inhabit our mortal bodies.
These teachings inform our stances on gender roles, orientation, gender, and relationships.
Because the LDS church sees the divine relationship between Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother as an ideal, they teach that the ideal mortal relationship is between a man and a woman, and they should have children. Any other relationship is unnatural and—to borrow LDS parlance—unordained.
Because there is inequality in their relationship—with Heavenly Father being in charge and Heavenly Mother being demure—we should have inequality in our relationships, with husbands presiding and wives nurturing.
Because Heavenly Father leads out in speaking to us, then men are assigned leadership qualities and roles. Because Heavenly Mother is quiet (or silenced, if you will) and reserved, women are assigned soft skills as qualities.
Because only two persons are in that relationship and are different sexes, the LDS church sees sex (and gender) as binary.
A few years ago, I began to feel pulled toward getting to know more about Heavenly Mother. I wanted to feel closer to her. And so, I began praying to her. Well, I sort of included her in the prayers I was already addressing to Heavenly Father. In reality, I prayed to both of them. Over time, I felt doing so allowed me to place both of them on equal footing, and I believe this allowed me to experience intense spiritual events that seemed connected to Heavenly Mother.
Recently, however, I have realized that even this action—while it might address the sexism in LDS theology, at least in part—does little to address the homophobia and transphobia. It still perpetuates ideas of gender and sex binary. And so I’ve spent some time in my morning and evening walks reflecting on the LDS concept of God.
I think the LDS church has something potentially powerful in the idea that there is more to the divine than just an old, bearded, white guy. Including a feminine personage in the divine could be liberating. Even the idea that we have a familial link to them could be empowering.
But it’s ruined by the perspective that they are two entirely and completely separate beings, especially when one has all the power and the other is in the shadows. Separate not only in person, but also in purpose and role.
This perspective leads us—even encourages us—to do the same thing in the church. We separate the masculine and feminine. Classes are segregated by sex. Roles are segregated by sex. Ordinances are segregated by sex. And our intense focus on idealizing the cisheteronormative portrayal of our heavenly parents forces out those among us who are not cis and who are not hetero.
I wonder, however, if we would be better served seeing God not as two beings as separate—both in person and in role—but as two beings united.
LDS theology teaches that the Godhead consists of three beings who are one in purpose. Perhaps, we can use a similar approach in our portrayal not just of the Godhead, but of, well, God.
We often synonymize “God” and “Heavenly Father”. We even do that with the name we have assigned to Heavenly Father. Although we assign “Elohim” to him, it is a name that is plural in nature.
But what if we reappropriate “God” to mean both Heavenly Father *and* Heavenly Mother? What if we see God as both male and female, both masculine and feminine? What if without one or the other, “God” is incomplete?
What if we have a heavenly father and a heavenly mother not as a pattern to dictate our approaches to sex, gender, and orientation? What if we have a heavenly father and a heavenly mother to remind us that none of us is purely masculine or purely feminine, neither just man nor just woman? What if viewing “God” as both masculine and feminine for it to be whole helps us to know that our unique combination of masculine and feminine is what makes us whole?
What if the song went, “I am a child of God, and they have sent me here”? What if the youth recited instead “We are children of our God, who love us, and we love them”? What if we embraced the idea that because the appearance of God to Moses, to Joseph Smith, to John the Baptist, or to the Nephites is never accompanied by gendered pronouns that perhaps it wasn’t always just Heavenly Father in those instances? What if we portrayed not just Heavenly Father in the temple film speaking to Adam and Eve, but the whole God?
If we can see God as both male and female, then it could help us see the futility in gendering roles and relationships. If each of us is both masculine and feminine (to whatever degree or combination), then none of us is entitled to lead or to be more spiritual or to parent or to baptize or to participate in any of the multitude of gendered activities and responsibilities. If each of us is both masculine and feminine, then trans members can no longer be seen as abnormal and burdened. If each of us is both masculine and feminine, then gay members can be welcomed as full participants in the religion, without threat of church courts and excommunication.
And maybe, just maybe, the sexism, homophobia, and transphobia so prevalent among Latter-day Saints would diminish.
