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| Fiona Givens, Co-Author of The God Who Weeps |
I
have been super impressed with both Fiona and Terryl Givens, authors of
the masterful (it's not hyperbole, it's that good!) theological work The God Who Weeps: How Mormonism Makes Sense of Life.
In both their writing, and in the interviews I have heard/read them
give, I have been inspired. Terryl Givens has rightfully received a lot
of attention in the past for his previous books,
but with this round of interviews for The God Who Weeps that I have read and listened to,
I have also been super impressed with Fiona's articulate voice,
engaging ideas, and powerful spirituality and identity. So I approached
her about doing an independent interview, to which she graciously
conceded. I was thrilled that she put the thought and care to engage in a
long and fruitful interview. Lots of amazing stuff! Perhaps my favorite
interview I have ever conducted, due to the time, thought, informed
intelligence, and spirituality Fiona infused her answers with. So here
it is:
MS: First,
in a nut shell, tell our readers a little about yourself. About your
conversion to Mormonism, your professional and literary background/
interests, your relationship with Terryl, your family, and anything else
you would really like our readers to know about the intriguing Fiona
Givens.
FG:
I converted to the Church in Germany where I was working as an au pair
during my gap year between graduating from New Hall School, where I had
been head girl,
and university. The preceding summer I had spent in earnest prayer,
trying to divine God’s will for me and my future, as to that point, I
had taken very little interest in it myself. The answers were totally
unexpected and unanticipated. Shortly after arriving in Germany, I met a
lovely lady with whom I became fast friends. I was happy that she
liked to talk about God, as He was uppermost in my mind. Eventually she
took me to her “church”--a gathering of people in a room on the second
floor of a building. What I felt when I entered that sparsely attended
meeting was something I had never felt before--a spiritual warmth that
was inviting. And I was happy for the opportunity to learn more. That
being said, I had no intention of leaving Catholicism, secure in its
position as the longest standing Christian faith tradition.
However,
the spiritual experiences that ensued in my conversations with the
missionaries were nothing short of Pentecostal and I was eager to share
my transformation with my family, who responded very much like Gregor
Samsa’s family in Kafka’s Metamorphosis. The two years following
my baptism were very painful. I had left in the detritus of my baptism
not only a rich and vibrant faith tradition but my family, whom I had
shaken to the core, wrenching their ability not only to comprehend me
but to communicate with me. I had brought a rogue elephant into our
family room. It is still there. The wounds are still palpable.
However, due in large measure to the kindness and love of Priesthood
leaders, my wobbly legs were strengthened and, amazingly, I did not use
them to flee a still alien religion, an alien culture and alien
language.
Through
a set of miraculous circumstances I was granted a multiple entry visa
to pursue a degree at Brigham Young. I met Terryl the first day of our
Comparative Literature 301 class with Larry Peer. Terryl was seated on
the back row. I was seated on the front. He was self-effacing. I was
not. We were married a year later. He pursued a PhD in comparative
literature and I pursued the raising of our children while taking a
class a semester, when possible, to keep the little grey cells
functioning amidst the barrage of babyspeak.
We were poverty stricken
students. I helped with the family income of $7000 per annum (Terryl’s
scholarship) by adding more babyspeakers to my home and typing papers
and dissertations after the children were abed . I then volunteered for
the Virginia Society for Human Life as lobbyist and spokesperson and
spent a considerable amount of time travelling the Commonwealth on
speaking engagements and participating in media interviews. The grey
matter jogging helped prevent a complete collapse into babyspeak and
Terryl assumed the role of single parent during the annual General
Assembly session in Richmond where I was completely immersed in
promoting the passage of our bills. My six children were also
wonderfully supportive.
They
would take turns traveling with me on my speaking engagements when
they were older and they cheered me on when the going got tough. A
number of years later I graduated with a double major in French and
German from the University of Richmond, followed by a Master’s degree in
European History from the same university. Again, my family provided
the greatest support and encouragement. Bless them! They even
soldiered through the four hour graduation ceremony at the end!
MS: In The God Who Weeps,
you and Terryl paint a beautiful vision of Mormon theology. However,
there are elements of it—such as your more Universalist and inclusive
tendencies when it comes to salvation—that many Latter-day Saints may
not relate with the version that has been portrayed to them in some
Sunday school classes. I prefer your version over that of many
interpretations I’ve heard, but in what way do you think yours and
Terryl’s vision differs from those versions? In what ways would you
justify your position to those who have read your book, but question
this unique emphasis?
FG:
Universalism. The idea had been swimming in my mind for a number of
years. When the brilliant and insightful David Bokovoy shared with me
the same sentiments on an illuminating car ride in Boston, I gathered
more resolve and kept pushing. If all of humanity did indeed comprise
God’s children, and if He loved us with all the affection of a tender
parent, it followed that if His plan to return us all to Him left even
one of His children without the chance to return, then the plan, that
entailed the horrendous sacrifice of His Son, would be a colossal
failure. I don’t believe our God is a failure and neither do I believe
that His plan is ill considered. If that is the case, then God must
have made provision to ensure that all His children were granted the
opportunity to return to Him, not matter how long it takes.
As
many of us have lived and died and will continue to live and die
without ever hearing of Christ, the Redeemer of the world and the Bearer
of the good tidings of everlasting life in the Kingdom of Heaven, the
plan would have to extend past this life, as Joseph taught, as well as
into the eternities to come. God is not confined by the limitations of
time. “Endless” is His name, the implication being that God will work
patiently with each one of His children, moving at the pace at which
they are comfortable to bring them safely home. The Mormon confinement
to kingdoms is of recent construction. Joseph, Hyrum, Brigham, B.H.
Roberts, James Talmage and J. Reuben Clark all espoused the view that
progression is eternal—through all the kingdoms—until at last, when we
are in sight of our home, our Father rushes out to greet us, to embrace
us and to celebrate our homecoming with a feast of the greatest
magnificence. His entire Kingdom rejoices with Him at the return of
each one of us, His prodigal children
