This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Women's Session of the October 1991 Conference.
Oh, diversity! I hardly want to even type the word because it means such different things in different contexts! I can think of a hundred separate threads that have influenced my thinking on diversity, from General Authorities and others. But without getting into all the controversy of what it means, I just enjoyed the simplicity and sincerity of Sister Chieko Okazaki's words about the differences we have as women in the church:
Wherever you are, whatever you are wearing, whatever language you are hearing, you are part of a powerful force of joy, peace, and goodness. We are here to rejoice together “in every good thing.”…Look around the room you are in. Do you see women of different ages, races, or different backgrounds in the Church? Of different educational, marital, and professional experiences? Women with children? Women without children? Women of vigorous health and those who are limited by chronic illness or handicaps? Rejoice in the diversity of our sisterhood! It is the diversity of colors in a spectrum that makes a rainbow. It is the diversity in our circumstances that gives us compassionate hearts. It is the diversity of our spiritual gifts that benefits the Church.
I liked the straightforwardness of that: "We're different. Rejoice in it!" Sometimes I feel so concerned about unity in the church and even in my own family. (I feel like I write about it all the time!) It distresses me, likely too much, when people don't agree with the fundamental way I see the world, and recently I have had to make a conscious effort to see the good in differences—between men and women generally; between Sam and me specifically; between me and other people I love. I still want unity! But I'm trying not to see it as mutually exclusive with diversity.
Anyway, I was intrigued by Sister Okazaki's declaration that "it is the diversity in our circumstances that gives us compassionate hearts." I would have thought that having similar circumstances gives us compassion! That's when you understand someone and can relate to them; when you think "I've felt that same thing!" So I've been trying to think how diversity can give us compassion, and I think it's partly that the more you start to notice and really get to know people with different ideas—get to know them on a personal level—the more appreciation you gain for those people and their ideas.
I know that happened in the Young Women's presidency I was in. We became such good friends, and it's partly because we understood one another, but also because we needed each other! Carrie Ann was such an effortless teacher! I could have listened to her teach all day, and I desperately needed her example of thoughtfulness and sensitivity to difficult topics. Emily was so cheerful and playful and loving with the girls, and every time I wanted to throw up my hands about the way they didn't listen or forgot their assignments, she showed me how effective love and understanding could be instead. Annie loved goodness and true doctrine and always kept me coming back to the fundamentals of the gospel when I started to get caught up in unimportant details. I grew to love these women and even, to my surprise: to love our differences!
Interestingly, Sister Okazaki uses almost the same example as she elaborates on how we can use diversity in the church to our advantage:
As a Relief Society General Presidency, we are different. Elaine, Aileen, Carol, and I are married and single, homemakers and professionals, far travelers and homebodies, converts and fifth-generation members, high school graduates and graduate-degree holders. We have given service to our community and to the Church. But we know each other, we help each other, and we love each other. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. We rejoice in our diversity and enjoy a unified sisterhood. Do the same in your own wards and stakes.
This spontaneous rejoicing in diversity definitely doesn't come easily to me, but I think it's something I'm already being called upon to improve in myself. And it's encouraging that it DID come (relatively) easily in the presidency I served in. That makes me hope that God can give me that gift more fully as I labor with others in His service, and maybe I can eventually learn to extend the same love and compassion to people who actively dislike or fight against things I hold dear.
I'm not giving up on the idea of unity and a Zion people. But at Sister Okazaki's urging, I'm going to try to see the joy and purpose in our differences as well!
