Letter from the Highlands, June 2002
by Anne Perry

Last week was my Relief Society lesson, from which I usually gain so much, and this was no exception. It was on studying the Scriptures. As always I wanted to "liken it unto ourselves", so I asked every sister to think of a character from the Scriptures about whom we know something that constitutes a story, and with whom they could identify, and then tell us who and why. Then choose a second, whom they admired intensely, without necessarily having much in common with them in nature or circumstances, and even a third, if they wished. Only one stipulation — it must be a woman!

They were stunned — you would have thought I had asked them to grow wings and fly. "A woman!"

I insisted. The Old Testament and the New are full of women, and we are studying the Old Testament this year. Without picking up the Bible I found I could name nearly thirty-five. I cannot think of one in the Book of Mormon about whom I know enough to construct a story and then say why I admire her, or identify with any part of her life that I know.

There were several moments of silence, then one sister put up her hand.

Her example was Esther — for her supreme courage in coming to King Ahasuerus, even though it might cost her her life, in the cause of her people. Her memory is honoured by them even to this day in a feast held every year to commemorate their being saved by her acts.

We considered if we would personally have such courage and selflessness.

Someone else spoke of Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, and her faith in being granted a child late in life, and believing, even when her husband, Zacharias the High Priest, had not, and was struck dumb, temporarily, because of it. Surely it must have seemed impossible to her? And yet she knew the promise of the Lord when she heard it, and she believed that He could and would do all that he had said — for Him no righteous thing is impossible.

Would that we all had such trust in God!

And we said also that like Mary, the mother of Christ, she must have known from the beginning that her son was destined for greatness in the sight of God, and it could only be at terrible cost to himself. He would not only live a life of danger and hardship, and considerable loneliness, but would die young, executed for his courage to speak the truth. And he would have no children, and therefore she no grandchildren.

And yet her name will be forever spoken with admiration, and her gift to mankind treasured.

The words of Simeon to Mary came to my mind (Yea a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also) when she and Joseph brought Christ to the Temple to present Him to the Lord. I thought perhaps in the pre-existence each of us started out on a mission, and were told that if we were to complete it in full, a sword would pierce through our hearts, yet each of us promised that we would come, and that we would do all that was ours, and return with it to offer to the Lord at the end.

There again is a pattern for each of us — not to fill her calling, but to fill our own, and there is not one of us whose journey here is pointless, whether it is for minutes, or a century.

We spoke of Sarah, wife of Abraham, and wondered if as mother of Isaac, she did understand something of why Abraham took Isaac as a young man to Mount Moriah. Surely she also knew that Abraham was prepared to sacrifice their son, if that was the will of God? What did that cost her?

And we hear nothing of her murmuring against it, or even struggling to prevent it happening.

But chiefly we liked her because she was human enough to laugh, when the angels promised that she would have a child, in spite of the fact that she was long past the years when that was possible, in the eyes of man. Haven"t we all laughed at some of the promises of God that seemed too late? I know I have! I do — surely I should love Sarah as my sister in spirit?

She was a princess, a great beauty, the wife of Abraham — and I am none of these things, but I also am a daughter of God to whom promises have been made, and I sometimes wonder if He has forgotten me, and will attend to it only when it is too late!

I chose Eve — not as the mother of all living, but as the first human being to taste mortal life, to begin for all our race the greatest adventure of humanity, to take that irrevocable step that set us all on the path to salvation — or loss. Was there ever any human act of greater courage? Too often we forget what we owe to her. Sometimes we imagine she took that vast step in ignorance. Of course it was to some extent into the unknown — no one in her race had ever done such a thing before, that was the most lively of all a walk to the edge of the light, and then into the darkness beyond, in the trust that God would sustain and support her.

Again we do it in a smaller way. Have we the courage to step beyond what is safe, beyond everything we can see, because that is the only way towards progress, and ultimately the chance of glory, not mere comfort?

We spoke of many others as well, giant spirits whose names are not recorded for us, but whose deeds we hold in our hearts to give us hope, faith, inspiration, and the knowledge of victories.

The woman during the famine who had only a handful of meal and a few drops of oil left for herself and her son, when Elijah, the man of God, came by and asked her to bake a cake for him. She told him her situation and that when what she had was gone she and her son would die.

He told her that if she cooked what she had and give it to him, then her barrel of meal would never be empty and her cruse of oil would never run dry. Her faith was equal to it. She gave him — and the Lord"s promise held — of course!

So easy for us to see from these thousands of years ahead, and perhaps not always remember that she was before the Saviour, so she had not the Scriptures of His mercy and humanity that we have women into all our understanding of the nature of God.

And there is the woman who knew that Elisha was a man of God, and told her husband that she would set food aside for him every time he passed that way, and then a room kept for him. How did she know he was a prophet? It seems no one else recognized the spirit in him. She must have been living in such a way that her soul was awakened to see holiness in an otherwise ordinary face of a travelling man. What a deep and splendid soul!

He wanted to reward her, and she told him she had no son. He promised her that God would give her one.

Again, of course, the promise was kept. And then when the son was old enough he went out into the fields. And one day he was brought back ill, and almost immediately dead.

What did this woman do? Sent for Elisha — not to complain — but to fix it for her! It was not easy, the first attempt, when he sent his servant, was unsuccessful. Only when he went himself did he raise the boy back to life.

But her faith was such that her lost son was restored to her.

And there were dozens of others in the Old Testament.

But to move to the New Testament — what of the woman by the well in Samaria, who knew Christ when he asked her for water? Are we so spiritually aware that we would recognize Him if he spoke to us? Do we always know the voice of God when we hear it?

I wish I were sure I did!

And the woman who had suffered an issue of blood for years, and followed after the Saviour in the crowds in the street, she was convinced that if she could but touch the hem of His garment she would be healed.

He knew someone had touched his clothes, even in that jostling throng, because he felt the strength go out of him — into her. He stopped and asked "who touched me?"

His disciples said that in that melee it was impossible to know. They did not even understand how he was aware of her at all.

Then she stepped forward, herself afraid she had taken a liberty. But He was infinitely gentle with her — "My daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole".

Could our faith make us whole, at least in spirit — perhaps at a touch to the hem of His garment? But to do that we should have to be close enough to Him to touch Him — and we would have to recognize Him when we were. And to do that we would have to know Him!

And that is over a lifetime"s journey.

We also mentioned Mary Magdalene, the first mortal person to see a resurrected being!

I asked if anyone could name a judge in Israel, and at least two prophetesses who were women. They can now! Raboah was a judge in Israel, and Huldah and Anne were prophetesses.

And there are dozens and dozens more women who are great: Rachael, Rebecca, Leah, Dinah, Temar, Hannah, Miriam, Rehab, Abigail, Mary and Martha, and many more.

A few who were conspicuous failures, Jezabel, Salome, Heroshias.

And some who were good or bad, depending upon whose point of view you take — like Delilah. To the Philistines she must have been a heroine. She fought for her people with the weapons she had. Samson was a thorn in their side.

The great ones, whether we know their names or not, are people whose faith, courage, integrity and humanity came down the ages for our blessing. If we live well enough, one day we will meet them again (we must have known them in the pre-existence) and be able to tell them what their stories meant to us, and thank them for their lives.

Perhaps we can also thank those who chronicled their lives for us, and those who processed the records, and those who in many cases risked their own lives to translate them into our languages and make them available to the ordinary people (as opposed to the clergy — for an ordinary person, especially a woman, to read the Scriptures used to be an offence for which you could be burned at the stake).

We have so much! No generation in history has had more.

Another thing we have is access to so much imaginative fiction, books good and bad. There is a fear that one might reject anything we don"t know, and then throw out the "baby with the bath water".

I saw a sci-fi film over the weekend called "Sphere". In it a huge golden sphere was discovered in a crashed space craft at the bottom of the ocean. It took a good deal of dramatic story before we realized that it had the power to make the things of the imagination come into reality — most of them very frightening and destructive.

But the end-line, which to me was very powerful indeed, was the sacrifice of knowledge of this power, because of the realization that we are not yet ready to use it wisely. Even if consciously we wish good, the fears that lie beneath have a terrible possibility for evil. It brings to mind the words about practice — practising until you get it right is not sufficient - you must practice until you cannot get it wrong.

If one were to have the power that is promised us in eternity, should we deserve it, BEFORE we have refined out spirits to the degree that our own darkest fears are not disastrous, then the change we could do would be incalculable. It is a very long journey from here, to be worthy of having power and NEVER abusing it. We must reach the stage where even our hidden dreams, our secret fears, our utmost longings and hungers, are still rooted in that towering respect for all other existence that we can honour it all, rob nothing of its chance to grow and fulfil the measure of its creation.

In eternity there must be no power that is not governed, guarded and illuminated by that greatest power of all — that of love. That is the force which created the unwise, and sustains it. We could become wholly a part of that, or we can be given no role at all but a passive one.

My garden is blazing with flowers, the air is warm, it rained yesterday and the earth smells indescribably sweet. I hope your Spring, or whatever season you are in, is filled with beauty and purpose.

Until next month.

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