I think it’s a matter of context. YOU KNOW WHAT, I JUST NOTICED THAT THIS IS A WAY OLD THREAD. AND I GOT ALL EXCITED AND HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR HER TO POST. THIS IS EARLY SENILITY.

Oh well, this is my 2 cents: context, yeah, if you think it’s entertaining annoying or funny, if you look at a frailty as part of the family of man, without the frailty taking away from the guy’s calling, that’s one thing. But if I say, “My bishop should be excommunicated because he’s sort of dorky, and always late, that’s another thing. I guess also motive is an issue here.

Better late than never.

First, what’s the story in which the frailty is presented? Is the story one of grace and redemption, a reminder of the need for Christ, and so forth? Or is it just reveling in weakness and in destroying models of virtue?

Second, in what proportion are frailties and virtues presented? Remember that we are given models not just to be interesting, but to emulate. Virtue becomes interesting when it is emulated, because then we can identify with it. Lived virtue serves as a rebuke to our own weaknesses and dilatoriness. If the frailties are overemphasized, we don’t get enough of that rebuke.

I think we (especially those who blog about Mormonism) have come to terms with this issue. Elder Packer’s quote I think is akin to the brethren saying “go to the temple once a week”, when really, if we even go once a month, they’d be happy. I guess I don’t read THAT much into it.

I think you’re fine, Linda, with your own way of “delighting in pointing out weaknesses”.

I believe that many of those comments came from Elder Packer’s ongoing, several-years-long critique of certain LDS historians (mainly Micheal Quinn, as I recall) whom he felt were doing research that tarnished the image of early church leaders.

I’ve always been a little unsure of the merits of that approach. A faith built on whitewashed images of leaders seems unusually susceptible to factually correct information about their flaws.

The Packer quotation you cite implicitly *acknowledges* leaders’ weakness and frailties. And I’m unaware of any Church leader claiming to be devoid of weakness or frailty. So it’s not a question of whether they *are* imperfect. (They are.) It’s a question of whether we, as individuals, should take it upon ourselves to publicize their shortcomings. There are, I think, very good reasons not to.

The primary reason, I think, is that it violates the spirit of the Gospel to focus on the motes of others, when we have our own beams to contend with. Joseph Smith–chief among our imperfect leaders–often emphasized that concept. We should judge as we wish to be judged. What is the driving emotion in seeking out and publicizing the faults of others? I don’t see how it can be love.

Another reason to avoid that behavior involves the (probably uncharitable) underlying motivations. They may be anger, resentment, pride (e.g., about how we’re much more sophisticated than the herd), avarice, a setting of oneself up as a higher authority, or dragging down the authority of leaders. In some instances, the critic’s words or actions may erode the faith of others. But, in all cases, such sentiments are corrosive of the critic’s own soul. It’s just not a good way to live, whether you’re finding fault in dead prophets, your next door neighbor, or your spouse. Being *aware* of their faults is one thing. But seeking them out and shouting them from the rooftops is quite another.

As to your initial comment about modern people finding flawless figures “boring,” I would respond as follows:

(1) Modern people are *often* inspired by heroic portrayals of flawless (or near flawless) characters. As a prime example, many moderns are inspired by the story of Jesus, whether in print or (as we’re seeing this week) in film. And, more broadly, look at the blockbuster films over the past decade. How many of them feature deeply flawed protagonists. Few. I think it’s more accurate to say that many modern *academics* favor portrayals of flawed, conflicted, tortured individuals. Art-house theaters are overflowing with such fare. But most moderns go to mega-plexes rather than art-house theaters.

(2) On the flip side of that coin, flawed characters are not inherently interesting or dramatic. I have flaws. Would a movie about my life appeal to moderns more than a hagiographic film of Sir Thomas More or Jesus? I doubt it. (If you’re interested, though, I’d be happy to sell you the rights for a reasonable sum.) Everywhere we look, we see flawed characters–dishonest co-workers, slacker kids, testy spouses, etc. When we read a book or watch a movie, are *those* the kinds of people we want to see? From what I’ve seen, moderns prefer stories involving *extraordinary* characters–whether extraordinary in their perfection, prowess, circumstances, whatever. Sometimes flaws are a part of the picture. But often they’re not.

So, I guess I’m questioning your basic premise about what is likely to interest people. Since there are plenty of tangible measures for that (e.g., box office receipts, best-seller lists, Nielsen’s ratings, etc.), it’s not a totally abstract, unempirical disagreement.

ACCentuating the positive,

Scott

But, your SWK definitely passes the grieving widow test in my book. I can imagine the grieving widow thinking, “Wow, if a prophet can snap at his kids, I guess I am not a lowly worm for doing the same. I guess God could still love and trust me and bless me. I guess I can do better with God’s help.”

Historical blemishes that can be used to promote faith belong in your lessons. Historical blemishes that don’t belong to the historians.