This article is from the source 'nytimes' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/19/opinion/mormons-religion-trump.html

The article has changed 4 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 0 Version 1
Why I Became an Activist Against Fear I Am Mormon, and I Am Fighting Against Trump
(about 13 hours later)
SALT LAKE CITY — On May 3, 2017, I found myself in an unusual position: standing before the office of the Department of Homeland Security here, bullhorn in hand, leading a prayer vigil for a young mother. She was a Dreamer, brought to the United States when she was seven. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents had arrested her just days before outside a craft store where she had taken her 8-year-old daughter to buy supplies for a birthday party.SALT LAKE CITY — On May 3, 2017, I found myself in an unusual position: standing before the office of the Department of Homeland Security here, bullhorn in hand, leading a prayer vigil for a young mother. She was a Dreamer, brought to the United States when she was seven. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents had arrested her just days before outside a craft store where she had taken her 8-year-old daughter to buy supplies for a birthday party.
A crowd of supporters, carrying signs that read “Keep Families Together,” “Deport Drug Dealers, Not Dreamers” and “I Want My Mom Back,” surrounded me. What had brought me — a mild-mannered Mormon grandmother and a children’s book writer — to this place?A crowd of supporters, carrying signs that read “Keep Families Together,” “Deport Drug Dealers, Not Dreamers” and “I Want My Mom Back,” surrounded me. What had brought me — a mild-mannered Mormon grandmother and a children’s book writer — to this place?
I grew up in a small Mormon farming community in northeastern Utah during the 1960s. When I was about nine, my widowed mother (my father died in a mining accident four years earlier), my grandparents, aunts, uncles and neighbors joined the John Birch Society — the far-right, conspiracy theory-driven organization founded by Robert W. Welch in 1958.I grew up in a small Mormon farming community in northeastern Utah during the 1960s. When I was about nine, my widowed mother (my father died in a mining accident four years earlier), my grandparents, aunts, uncles and neighbors joined the John Birch Society — the far-right, conspiracy theory-driven organization founded by Robert W. Welch in 1958.
The society was vehemently against big government and viewed all leftists, Communists and globalists as the great enemies of freedom. Birchers were convinced that Communists were plotting to control the world and that their agents had infiltrated the highest echelons of American government. They even believed there was a large-scale effort to control the minds of American citizens through water fluoridation.The society was vehemently against big government and viewed all leftists, Communists and globalists as the great enemies of freedom. Birchers were convinced that Communists were plotting to control the world and that their agents had infiltrated the highest echelons of American government. They even believed there was a large-scale effort to control the minds of American citizens through water fluoridation.
The organization was fueled by fear, and it preyed upon the fearful. Over the coming months, a wildfire of panic swept across our struggling alfalfa fields, through our barren feed lots and into our homes. When I went to sleep at night, I didn’t fear monsters beneath my bed; I feared Communists.The organization was fueled by fear, and it preyed upon the fearful. Over the coming months, a wildfire of panic swept across our struggling alfalfa fields, through our barren feed lots and into our homes. When I went to sleep at night, I didn’t fear monsters beneath my bed; I feared Communists.
But one Sunday my mother emerged from her bedroom, her well-worn Bible in her hands, and announced that she was leaving the society. How long had she been contemplating this move? I don’t know. But we children were shocked. “Why?” we asked. “Because I’ve realized it’s based in fear,” she told us. Then she quoted from the second book of Timothy: “God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”But one Sunday my mother emerged from her bedroom, her well-worn Bible in her hands, and announced that she was leaving the society. How long had she been contemplating this move? I don’t know. But we children were shocked. “Why?” we asked. “Because I’ve realized it’s based in fear,” she told us. Then she quoted from the second book of Timothy: “God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
Those words changed my life. My mother did leave the John Birch Society, and though she remained mostly committed to classical conservative ideals for the rest of her life, her views were always filtered through the lens of Christian compassion. “If you can’t find the love, it’s not of God,” she would say. “Love saves; fear destroys.”Those words changed my life. My mother did leave the John Birch Society, and though she remained mostly committed to classical conservative ideals for the rest of her life, her views were always filtered through the lens of Christian compassion. “If you can’t find the love, it’s not of God,” she would say. “Love saves; fear destroys.”
In the years following my mother’s momentous decision, that scripture in Timothy has become the standard by which I judge almost everything. Is this organization, philosophy, behavior, position or policy based in fear — or love?In the years following my mother’s momentous decision, that scripture in Timothy has become the standard by which I judge almost everything. Is this organization, philosophy, behavior, position or policy based in fear — or love?
No matter the context, I’m wary of people who try to create division or suspicion toward a particular group. Who assert that if one group gets more, we will get less. Who believe that if we extend basic rights to others, our own will be diminished. Who argue that if we allow others into our country, we will somehow have to relinquish our own safety, jobs and identity.No matter the context, I’m wary of people who try to create division or suspicion toward a particular group. Who assert that if one group gets more, we will get less. Who believe that if we extend basic rights to others, our own will be diminished. Who argue that if we allow others into our country, we will somehow have to relinquish our own safety, jobs and identity.
Fear insists that life is a zero-sum game. Love knows that there is enough, and to spare. Fear both proclaims and begets scarcity. Love invites and welcomes abundance.Fear insists that life is a zero-sum game. Love knows that there is enough, and to spare. Fear both proclaims and begets scarcity. Love invites and welcomes abundance.
So I became increasingly concerned during the 2016 election cycle when a man who built his candidacy on a platform of fear — of immigrants, Muslims, refugees and others — inexplicably became not only the nominee of the party I had belonged to my entire life, but also president. This was a man who proclaimed, “Real power is, I don’t even want to use the word, fear.”So I became increasingly concerned during the 2016 election cycle when a man who built his candidacy on a platform of fear — of immigrants, Muslims, refugees and others — inexplicably became not only the nominee of the party I had belonged to my entire life, but also president. This was a man who proclaimed, “Real power is, I don’t even want to use the word, fear.”
With Donald Trump’s election, I knew I could not remain silent. I in no way considered myself an activist. But in January 2017, just after the inauguration, I opened my computer and worked late into the night setting up a nonpartisan Facebook group for myself and a few like-minded friends. I wanted to create a space where we could discuss ways in which we might join forces to counterbalance the fear and to call for decency, compassion and ethics in our government. We called ourselves Mormon Women for Ethical Government.With Donald Trump’s election, I knew I could not remain silent. I in no way considered myself an activist. But in January 2017, just after the inauguration, I opened my computer and worked late into the night setting up a nonpartisan Facebook group for myself and a few like-minded friends. I wanted to create a space where we could discuss ways in which we might join forces to counterbalance the fear and to call for decency, compassion and ethics in our government. We called ourselves Mormon Women for Ethical Government.
Immediately, friends began adding friends who added friends who added friends. Within just a few weeks, we had over 4,000 members, women from all across the political spectrum, Mormons and non-Mormons alike. Clearly, we had hit a nerve. There were thousands of other women of faith, like myself, who felt compelled to act — to push back against fear and hate and take a stand for love.Immediately, friends began adding friends who added friends who added friends. Within just a few weeks, we had over 4,000 members, women from all across the political spectrum, Mormons and non-Mormons alike. Clearly, we had hit a nerve. There were thousands of other women of faith, like myself, who felt compelled to act — to push back against fear and hate and take a stand for love.
And so, our little group continued to grow. We incorporated as a 501(c)4 nonprofit organization, established chapters in nearly every state, lobbied for the marginalized in Washington and state capitals, organized rallies at the southern border and helped register over 20,000 voters.And so, our little group continued to grow. We incorporated as a 501(c)4 nonprofit organization, established chapters in nearly every state, lobbied for the marginalized in Washington and state capitals, organized rallies at the southern border and helped register over 20,000 voters.
Our motto: We will not be complicit by being complacent. We believe that Jesus really meant it when he said that we should love our neighbors — meaning everyone, as the parable of the good Samaritan makes clear — and care for the poor, the sick, the homeless, the vulnerable. This is the calling of all Christians. We have been called to love.Our motto: We will not be complicit by being complacent. We believe that Jesus really meant it when he said that we should love our neighbors — meaning everyone, as the parable of the good Samaritan makes clear — and care for the poor, the sick, the homeless, the vulnerable. This is the calling of all Christians. We have been called to love.
We have our work cut out for us. In fact, the ante has just been raised in this conflict between fear and love.We have our work cut out for us. In fact, the ante has just been raised in this conflict between fear and love.
We now have a president who, with the apparent consent and support of the majority of his own party, has declared himself to be above the law. A president who remains in office only because he has managed to instill such fear in most of the Republicans in Congress — with the notable exception of my senator, Mitt Romney — that they dare not cross him.We now have a president who, with the apparent consent and support of the majority of his own party, has declared himself to be above the law. A president who remains in office only because he has managed to instill such fear in most of the Republicans in Congress — with the notable exception of my senator, Mitt Romney — that they dare not cross him.
Where we go from here, and where we finally end up, will be determined by whether we choose love or whether we choose fear. That may be the defining question of our time.Where we go from here, and where we finally end up, will be determined by whether we choose love or whether we choose fear. That may be the defining question of our time.
Sharlee Mullins Glenn, an author and teacher, is the founder of Mormon Women for Ethical Government.Sharlee Mullins Glenn, an author and teacher, is the founder of Mormon Women for Ethical Government.
The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.
Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.