Iron Rod Saints vs. Liahona Saints

 As many have already noticed, there has been a little kerfluffle between Hugh, dp, and the folks at Times and Seasons. While I think I know which comment Hugh and dp were referring to and agree it at least came across as intemperate, I thoroughly enjoy all their blogs and will continue to do so.  At risk of exacerbating the issue, it reminded me of a talk given by BYU professor Richard D. Poll which was originally published in Dialogue. As Levi pointed out in a previous comment, labels aren’t always useful but I think the talk makes some interesting generalizations. ”What the Church Means to People Like Me”

My thesis is that there are two distinct types of active and dedicated Latter-day Saints. I am not talking about “good Mormons” and “Jack Mormons,” or about Saints in white hats and pseudo-Saints in black. No, I am talking about two types of involved Church members who are here tonight, each deeply committed to the Gospel but also prone toward misgivings about the legitimacy, adequacy, or serviceability of the commitment of the other. The purpose of my inquiry is not to support either set of misgivings, but to describe each type as dispassionately as I can, to identify myself with one of the types, and then to bear witness concerning some of the blessings which the Church offers to the type I identify with. My prayer is that this effort will help us all to look beyond the things which obviously differentiate us toward that “unity of faith” which Christ set as our common goal.  For convenience of reference, let me propose symbols for my two types of Mormons. They have necessarily to be affirmative images, because I am talking only about “good” members. I found them in the Book of Mormon, a natural place for a Latter-day Saint to find good symbols as well as good counsel.  The figure for the first type comes from Lehi’s dream–the Iron Rod. The figure for the second comes also from Lehi’s experience–the Liahona. So similar they are as manifestations of God’s concern for his children, yet just different enough to suit my purposes tonight.  The Iron Rod, as the hymn reminds us, was the Word of God. To the person with his hand on the rod, each step of the journey to the tree of life was plainly defined; he had only to hold on as he moved forward. In Lehi’s dream the way was not easy, but it was clear.  The Liahona, in contrast, was a compass. It pointed to the destination but did not fully mark the path; indeed, the clarity of its directions varied with the circumstances of the user. For Lehi’s family the sacred instrument was a reminder of their temporal and eternal goals, but it was no infallible delineator of their course.  Even as the Iron Rod and the Liahona were both approaches to the word of God and to the kingdom of God, so our two types of members seek the word and the kingdom. The fundamental difference between them lies in their concept of the relation of man to the “word of God.” Put another way, it is a difference in the meaning assigned to the concept “the fullness of the Gospel.” Do the revelations of our Heavenly Father give us a handrail to the kingdom, or a compass only?  The Iron Rod Saint does not look for questions, but for answers, and in the Gospel–as he understands it–he finds or is confident that he can find the answer to every important question. The Liahona Saint, on the other hand, is preoccupied with questions and skeptical of answers; he finds in the Gospel–as he understands it–answers to enough important questions so that he can function purposefully without answers to the rest. This last sentence holds the key to the question posed by my title, but before pursuing its implications let us explore our scheme of classification more fully.  . . . A point to underscore in terms of our objective of “unity of the faith” is that Iron Rods and Liahonas have great difficulty understanding each other–not at the level of intellectual acceptance of the right to peaceful co-existence, but at the level of personal communion, of empathy. To the Iron Rod a questioning attitude suggests an imperfect faith; to the Liahona an unquestioning spirit betokens a closed mind. Neither frequent association nor even prior personal involvement with the other group guarantees empathy. Indeed, the person who has crossed the line is likely to be least sympathetic and tolerant toward his erstwhile kindred spirits.  . . . Both kinds of Mormons have problems. Not just the ordinary personal problems to which all flesh is heir, but problems growing out of the nature of their Church commitment.  The Iron Rod has a natural tendency to develop answers where none may, in fact, have been revealed. He may find arguments against social security in the Book of Mormon; he may discover in esoteric prophetic utterances a timetable for that Second Coming of which “that day and hour knoweth no man . . . .” His dogmatism may become offensive to his peers in the Church and a barrier to communication with his own family; his confidence in his own insights may make him impatient with those whom he publicly sustains. He may also cling to cherished answers in the face of new revelation, or be so shaken by innovation that he forms new “fundamentalist” sects. The Iron Rod concept holds many firm in the Church, but it leads some out.  The Liahona, on the other hand, has the temptation to broaden the scope of his questioning until even the most clearly defined Church doctrines and policies are included. His resistance to statistics on principle may deteriorate into a carping criticism of programs and leaders. His ties to the Church may become so nebulous that he cannot communicate them to his children. His testimony may become so selective as to exclude him from some forms of Church activity or to make him a hypocrite in his own eyes as he participates in them. His persistence in doubting may alienate his brethren and eventually destroy the substance of his Gospel commitment. Then he, too, is out–without fireworks, but not without pain.  Both kinds of members are found at every level of Church responsibility–in bishoprics and Relief Society presidencies, in stake presidencies and high councils, and even among the General Authorities. But whatever their private orientation, the public deportment of the General Authorities seems to me to represent a compromise, which would be natural in the circumstances. They satisfy the Iron Rods by emphasizing the solid core of revealed truth and discouraging speculative inquiry into matters of faith and morals, and they comfort the Liahonas by resisting the pressure to make pronouncements on all subjects and by reminding the Saints that God has not revealed the answer to every question or defined the response to every prayer. As I have suggested, the Iron Rods and the Liahonas have some difficulty understanding each other. Lacking the patience, wisdom, breadth of experience, or depth of institutional commitment of the General Authorities, we sometimes criticize and judge each other. But usually we live and let live–each finding in the Church what meets his needs and all sharing the Gospel blessings which do not depend on identity of testimony. 

 According to one site, President Harold B. Lee responded to this talk in General Conference with a talk appropriately titled “The Iron Rod.”

There are those in the Church who speak of themselves as liberals who, as one of our former presidents has said, “read by the lamp of their own conceit.” (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine [Deseret Book Co., 1939], p. 373.) One time I asked one of our Church educational leaders how he would define a liberal in the Church. He answered in one sentence: “A liberal in the Church is merely one who does not have a testimony.” Dr. John A. Widtsoe, former member of the Quorum of the Twelve and an eminent educator, made a statement relative to this word liberal as it applied to those in the Church. This is what he said: 

“The self-called liberal [in the Church] is usually one who has broken with the fundamental principles or guiding philosophy of the group to which he belongs. … He claims membership in an organization but does not believe in its basic concepts; and sets out to reform it by changing its foundations. … ”It is folly to speak of a liberal religion, if that religion claims that it rests upon unchanging truth.” 

  And then Dr. Widtsoe concludes his statement with this: 

“It is well to beware of people who go about proclaiming that they are or their churches are liberal. The probabilities are that the structure of their faith is built on sand and will not withstand the storms of truth.” (“Evidences and Reconciliations,” Improvement Era, vol. 44 [1941], p. 609.) 

  I’m not sure President Lee’s talk applies directly to Professor Poll’s but clearly, the debate goes on. I’m not saying this applies to anyone but the discussions just brought these talks to mind.  UPDATE: While googling the talks to find more background, I see dp already mentioned Professor Poll’s talk in December in the comments section of Times and Seasons no less! 

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