Here are some thoughts on the three new LDS apostles, who yes, are all older white guys from Utah

I wasn’t planning on writing anything about this at all. I suspected there might be some grumbling on the usual places on the internet no matter who was selected, but the response I saw on Saturday night really surprised me.

Faced with a nearly unprecedented number of openings in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (three, the most they’ve had at one time since the early 1900s), many, from scholars to rank and file members, figured that this would be a prime opportunity to break from stereotype, or tradition, and select an apostle from outside the United States. Only one of the current Apostles, Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf (who was born in what was Czechoslovakia, and moved to Germany as a kid), hails from outside the US, and the church hasn’t called a non-American since 1933, when Elder Charles Albert Callis from Ireland was called (Marion G Romney was born in Mexico, but to Americans). Of the 100 Apostles called since the church was restored, only 11 were born outside of the United States, the bulk of whom served before the 1950s.

Of course, the church is pretty different from the church of 1950. It’s international, with a majority of the over 15 Million Mormons living outside the United States, and a majority of the church now speaks a language other than English. Like with many religions around the world, church growth via baptisms has come increasingly from members in Latin America, Africa and elsewhere, and from non-whites in North America. Given the demographics of the current church, it would be understandable for many to look to one of these new three apostles to come from somewhere other than Utah.

This did not happen. On Saturday, Elders Rasband, Stevenson and Renlund were called. All three are white, all three are over 60, and all three are from Utah. And in some corners of the Mormon world, and not just from where you might expect it, there were some conflicted feelings. For an active Mormon, this can be a complicated issue with a lot to unpack.

After all, the Apostleship isn’t an election. For me personally, this is actually refreshing, as selection for General Authority positions seems to be free of the outward politics that come with leadership selections in other comparable religions. We believe that such callings come from the Lord, via revelation (which also makes expressing disappointment or any conflicted feelings a bit complicated, to say the least). Even the most disappointed critic would be hard pressed to find evidence that these three men are not capable of such a position, or do not have pure intentions, or speak truth and preach the gospel. They are worthy of the patience, faith, prayers and sustaining of Mormons throughout the world.

But I think it is hard to brush aside the concerns that some faithful members have from this selection. A feeling of disappointment here should not just be discarded as a flaw in testimony.

This church has been restored for what, 184 years? 100 apostles have been called. Does it not seem strange that God would have decided that during that span, only white men are ready to lead the church, and of that group, nearly all from the United States, and nearly all of that group from Utah? Men from all over the world are worthy and spiritually developed enough to be called as General Authorities. They’re worthy and spiritually developed enough to speak in General Conference. We don’t believe that Utahns are some special offshoot of the Levites, holding unique leadership responsibilities, and certainly we don’t think that of white people generally (or at least, we don’t anymore. I hope).

It would be comforting to say that the Gospel is colorblind, and that the backgrounds of leaders doesn’t matter, but we know that isn’t true. The Gospel Truth may be universal, but the background of who preaches and teaches it is unquestionably a factor in who may be ready to hear. It’s why we are all charged to be missionaries, after all, as our own individual backgrounds may make us uniquely qualified to bless the lives of other individuals. That may include our ethnic background, but also our family lives, our conversion history, our class, where we’re from, our profession, and more.

We may be an increasingly diverse and international faith, but on many levels, our leadership doesn’t always reflect that. Of the 15 men currently who serve in the First Presidency or as Apostles, 14 are Americans. 11 were born in Utah (President Eyring is from New Jersey, Elder Hales is from Queens, and Elder Bednar is from Oakland). Every American was educated in Utah. All 15 were very successful in white collar professions, and most would be considered wealthy.

This isn’t a unique trend. After all, if you’re LDS in the United States, no matter where you live, chances are, this describes your Bishopric, or your Stake Presidency, or other local leadership. I’ve spent the last decade of my life in urban, mostly diverse wards (in Columbus, New Orleans, Chicago, Sacramento and Washington D.C), and have only met only four non-white members of Bishoprics in English-speaking wards. I can’t say I can ever recall knowing a non-white person in a Stake presidency. Even spending my life away from Utah, the bulk of my formal leaders have come from well-to-do, professionally educated white people (lawyers, doctors, dentists, accountants, financial professionals etc) typically either from, or educated in Utah. The Utah-focus of church administration and church culture can be hard to miss. It’s why PECs can feel like MBA classes sometimes.

That homogeneity has repercussions beyond cosmetics of course. People who are not LDS notice it, and it can be a stumbling block to prevent others from joining. And since church leaders are not perfect, and our own backgrounds, experiences and biases creep into how we act and how we manage our wards, homogeneity can lead to blind spots, accidentally insensitive actions, or missed opportunities to serve.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve struggle mightily with an occasional feeling of not belonging in the church. It’s part of why I love Elder Uchtdorf so much. When he speaks about doubt, or about fitting in, to me, his words have special meaning to me because *he’s different too*. Those subtle deviations from what we might consider to be the typical Mormon Man can carry special meaning when they’re a major church leader. How many members of Part Member families do you think pay special attention and hang on Elder Bednar’s words, when he talks about the conversion story of his father? How many young men who did not serve missions do you think take some measure of comfort in the fact that our Prophet didn’t either? Does the fact that Elder Renlund has a small family and an extraordinarily professionally accomplished wife feel inconsequential to working women of this church? I feel pretty confident that it won’t.

Narrow may be the way of the Lord, but I don’t think there is only the one path to find it. I’m sure many Mormons have appreciated having a convert as a Bishop or a leader, who could understand and empathize with struggles that may be unique to that situation. It can be a little easier to hear that Sunday School lesson about families when you know the teacher came from a non-traditional one. I think I speak for just about all Mormon Liberals when I say that you can figure out who the other ones are in your ward pretty quick, and it’s a great feeling when you know you aren’t alone. I’m giving a fellow Ohioan that I meet an extra-hearty handshake too.

One of the genius things about church administration is that it typically forces us to meet, work with, worship with and serve those who we may not very much in common with. But I don’t necessarily think it’s bad to admit that deep down, we may share special spiritual bonds with those who we perceive to have some things in common with. That’s human nature.

I happily sustain the three new leaders in my church. We have a long tradition of the Lord qualifying those he selects for anything. But I also empathize with those yearn for a more personal example to look up to. Deep down, I know I do that too. And I hope that someday, ideally someday soon, those saints will have one. It would be good for us all.