I am sorry.
It’s not so hard to say, is it? Not so hard to acknowledge when your words are hurtful to other people.
Latter-day Saint apostle Jeffrey Holland’s recent remarks on a podcast leaned in that direction but stopped short of those three little words. He indicated that his infamous “musket speech,” given at Brigham Young University three years ago, hurt him, yes, hurt him deeply, hurt others, too, and that he’d thought a lot about that speech, talked to LGBTQ folks about it in his office, and has since “wept” over it.
Good to hear.
A big man can cry.
But sadness apparently comes easier than uttering the aforementioned phrase: I am sorry. Had Holland done that, his personal crying would have carried more weight, more sincerity, and been taken more seriously. It would have required a Christlike attribute: humility.
For whatever reason, top leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have a difficult time apologizing. I don’t know why. Is it because church attorneys advise them not to? They see and project themselves as God’s chosen prophets and apostles, but they’re still human. Even followers of the faith are fully aware — or should be — that these guys are regular men prone to regular mistakes. The leaders know it, too, better than anyone.
You can be a faithful follower, you can believe these leaders are men of God, you can acknowledge that they share many inspired words, and still recognize that not only do they not float across the room when they walk, but they also don’t always say with exactness the right thing. They stub their toes. They stick their foot in their mouth. They commit errors.
Why? Because they are not deified. They are fellas with extraordinary assignments and with special responsibilities.
Haters will say they are not men of God, and that’s OK, too. Believe what your heart tells you to believe. But a combination of the cushion that surrounds these men, the way they are honored by the faithful and the way members stand when these leaders enter a chapel, must be a challenge for them. They could very well start to think more of themselves than they should, or at least face that temptation.
I attended a funeral once of a second-level church general authority. During the beautiful service, which was attended by some of the top brass, one of the apostles turned to the deceased’s lay leader on the stand and told him he shouldn’t have allowed the cobwebs to have formed around a few of the lights hanging from the ceiling.
There was no mention of the wonderful nature of the funeral itself, just a stern criticism funneled at the local leader that in that moment seemed out of line. The stake president sure felt that way. How do I know? Because he told me right after the meeting.
There have been much bigger deals, much bigger mistakes made by church leaders bestowed with highfalutin titles. The point is, they are human, they are flawed, and, just like the rest of us, they should apologize when they stumble, bumble and fumble, especially when those missteps hurt others.
Holland’s remarks hurt more than just himself. He knows that. He acknowledges it.
Well. What did your momma teach you to do when you hurt others? Uh-huh. Apologize. Say you’re sorry. Repent, and as a part of that amends, heal the wounds that have been opened by expressing regret to those affected and saying, “My bad.”
It’s not so hard to do. Say it with me now. I … am … sorry.
I’ve had to say it a thousand times. Jeffrey Holland is a better man than me.
He can say it, too.
(Francisco Kjolseth | The Salt Lake Tribune) Tribune columnist Gordon Monson.
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