Well, not actually poor, but you know what I mean.
Little did he know that in order to run for President, he was going to have to take America to
Sunday school class.
Officially, of course, there's no religious test in order to hold public office. But in practical
terms, if a candidate believes in something completely insane, people have a right to take that
into consideration before voting for him.
Besides, we Mormons spend a lot of time and effort trying to get our message out there. We
can't become suddenly shy about our religion just because one of our number is running for
office.
Our first senator, Reed Smoot, had to go through a grueling investigation before he could be
seated in the Senate. We can hardly expect the first serious Mormon candidate for President not
to face a similar gauntlet.
The doctrine that our opponents would love to hang around Romney's neck is the one about
human beings having the potential to become like God.
Or, as our opponents like to put it -- because it sounds more insane -- "Mormons believe that
they're going to become gods."
Now, that's just not accurate. We believe that those who repent of their sins and become perfect
of heart will be, by the grace of Christ, exalted. But how many people have you known who are
truly perfect of heart, desiring nothing but to serve God and their fellow humans?
I've known a few. But I'm most definitely not one of them. I'm in the category called "sinners"
and I have a pretty good notion that most of us are.
We also believe that people who never heard the gospel during mortality can accept it in the next
life. Certainly many who were never "Mormons" in their mortal lives will be exalted.
But that's quibbling over their phrasing. The point of contention is whether anyone can become
Godlike.
It all comes down to what we mean by "God."
In one sense, we're in perfect agreement. We all point to the Bible and say, We believe in the
God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, that he is
divine himself, and that only by his grace can we be cleansed of our sins and return to the
presence of the Father.
As far as I'm concerned, anybody who believes that is a Christian. You can be wrong about a lot
of the details, but all who accept Christ's divinity and try to live by his teachings are Christians.
However, something happened between the writing of the Bible and the settling of the traditional
Christian doctrine of God. What came between them was Plato.
Technically, it was Neoplatonism. But I'm not writing a book, I'm writing a newspaper column,
and a lot of fine distinctions are going to be left out.
For a thorough treatment of the details, read "How Greek Philosophy Corrupted the Christian
Concept of God," by Richard R. Hopkins.
Plato taught that all physical objects are unreal because they're corrupt and imperfect and
doomed to change and die. The perfect chair or star or stone or man has no tangible existence --
only the idea of these things can be real because only the idea does not change or corrupt or
break or die.
Likewise, whatever we call true, beautiful, or good in this world is merely a shadow of the ideal,
and therefore real and unchanging Truth, Beauty, and Goodness.
In Plato's view, the only god worth worshipping is the perfect ideal of the True, the Beautiful,
and the Good. That god cannot have any physical presence in time and space because
physicality and duration would diminish its perfection.
The Bible, however, is thick with references to the physical existence of God. We are made in
his image, says Genesis. Christ went to some trouble to show his disciples that he had become a
resurrected being with a body of flesh and bone.
Yet somehow, within a few generations after the writing of the New Testament, "traditional
Christianity" had adopted Plato's definition of the perfection of God, and treated the biblical
physicality of God as metaphor.
The main point of disagreement between Mormons and traditional Christianity is that we believe
in the biblical God -- the God in whose image we were made, the resurrected Christ with a
perfect body of flesh and bone -- and they don't.
Or, rather, their theologians don't. Most ordinary Christians ignore the creeds; when they pray,
they're thinking of God as a person with a face, with arms and legs, who actually exists in space
and time.
They believe in the biblical God, as we do. You have to go to college to accept the paradoxes of
the platonic God that traditional Christianity has embraced.
To help make the difference clear, let me use, as a parable, some "doctrines" we all learned in
high school geometry class: A Line is perfectly straight and infinitely long.
All lines in the same plane either touch or they don't touch. If they don't touch, they are parallel
and they go in the same direction, infinitely.
Those are the only two choices with lines in the same plane: They're either parallel, or they
intersect somewhere.
Now here's a theological argument between a traditional Christian (TC) and a biblical Christian
(LDS):
TC: The Trinity consists of three parallel lines, which touch each other.
LDS: If they touch each other, they're not parallel.
TC: Nevertheless, they are parallel, and they touch. They touch at every point.
LDS: If they touch at every point, they're the same line. Not three.
TC: They touch at every point, yet there are three.
LDS: That doesn't make any sense. Lines can't be different yet the same, parallel yet
intersecting. The words stop having any meaning when you say such things.
TC: That's because you have a finite, mortal mind, which cannot comprehend the nature of
Geometry.
LDS: That's just crazy. The Trinity is three lines, completely distinct, perfectly parallel, so they
go infinitely in the same direction. That's simple, it's clear, and it's true. In fact, we've seen the
lines.
TC: That's blasphemy! You can never see the lines! They're only imaginary!
LDS: Your lines are imaginary. The lines we've seen are real.
TC: Then you are not Geometers!
And that's where the discussion always ends.
There's no way any human being could become like the platonic God. By simply existing, we
are infinitely inferior to that perfection. To be perfect, we would have to shed everything that
makes us individual human beings and approach the same nonexistence that epitomizes the
platonic God.
The biblical God, by contrast, is approachable and embraceable. We are forever his children and
will never be his equals; everything we are comes as his gift; our hope comes entirely from the
grace of his Son; our understanding comes from the Holy Spirit.
After this life, all who have become perfect in their obedience to God and are forgiven their sins
by the grace of Christ will spend eternity serving God in his great work of continuing creation.
Only thus can the best of us humans obey Christ's commandment to be perfect, even as our
Father in Heaven is perfect.
We believe that all of God's children who serve him and embrace the atoning sacrifice of Christ
(in this life or the next) will be taken into God's service and trusted by him with a portion of his
eternal creative work. They will be like him, as adult children are like their parents.
It's why you have children, isn't it? So they can eventually take their place as adults?
That's what we Mormons believe about the nature of God. That's the God we find in the Bible.
We can't find the platonic one there. They found him somewhere else.
But when it comes to choosing a President, does a person's opinion about the nature of God
make any difference at all?
What makes a difference is the candidate's character: Does he actually live by the rules he
professes to believe in? Does he keep his word?
Character is the only issue that matters, in my opinion. A person who professes correct opinions
but has no honor won't be much good as President. While a person of honor can believe what he
wants about God, and still be a President we can trust.
Orson Scott Card is the author of the novels Ender's Game, Ender's
Shadow, and Speaker for the Dead, which are widely read by adults and
younger readers, and are increasingly used in schools.
Besides these and other science fiction novels, Card writes contemporary
fantasy (Magic Street,Enchantment,Lost Boys), biblical novels (Stone Tables,Rachel and Leah), the American frontier fantasy series The Tales of Alvin Maker
(beginning with Seventh Son), poetry (An Open Book), and many plays and
scripts.
Card was born in Washington and grew up in California, Arizona, and
Utah. He served a mission for the LDS Church in Brazil in the early 1970s.
Besides his writing, he teaches occasional classes and workshops and directs
plays. He also teaches writing and literature at Southern Virginia University.
Card currently lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, with his wife,
Kristine Allen Card, and their youngest child, Zina Margaret.