Beloved Son of a Heavenly Mother

As a man, I've never struggled to see myself in divinity. But I'm learning what it means to women to have a Mother, as well as a Father.

This week I sat in a Sunday School lesson, and the teacher showed a series of nativity images that included Melissa Tshikamba Boggs’s painting “Father & Child.” I think it may be intended to depict fathers more generally, but in this case it was presented as Joseph holding the baby Jesus. He’s supporting the baby’s head, and looking down at the child in wonder.

In that moment, I saw myself.

Almost fifteen years ago, my wife gave birth to our first child, a boy. There were some mild complications with his birth, so immediately after the delivery they whisked me and him away to a room where they could keep a better eye on him. They allowed me to hold him, and for some time—I don’t know how long it was—I sat and held my new son. My eyes filled with tears as I pondered who he would be and who he would become, and how my life had just changed forever because he had come into it.

When I looked at the painting of Joseph on Sunday, I saw myself in the nativity story for the first time. I was able to put myself in Joseph’s shoes. And while I can never understand the marvel that Joseph must have felt in holding God’s Only Begotten, I can understand what it is to be a first-time father holding his new son, and being completely cowed by what lies ahead. I had never made that connection before, because I hadn’t seen it.

And, in that moment, I understood—at some minute level—why it is important to women to talk about our Heavenly Mother.

I don’t intend to twist the nativity story to become male-centered. Joseph is a background character. We have Christmas songs in our hymnbook about the angels (Angels We Have Heard on High), the shepherds (While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks), the wise men (With Wondering Awe), the town it happened in (O Little Town of Bethlehem), the furniture that was used (Away in a Manger), and many, many about Mary, but Joseph doesn’t get more than a children’s song. Jesus is the point of the nativity story, and Mary is its main character. It’s the story of her traveling, great with child, to a faraway town, where she fulfilled her mission of bringing divinity into the world. The nativity story is Mary’s story.

But I can’t really see the world through Mary’s eyes. I don’t know what it’s like to be great with child, or the challenges and pains of giving birth. I’ve never related to Mary in that way. The nativity was always a miraculous story, but not a personal one. But for some reason, this particular painting of Joseph let me see myself in the nativity. I can relate to Joseph. The story has a place for me now.

When we talk about the gospel, as a whole, it’s a story about men. It’s about God, our Father, and His plan for all of us. It’s about His Son, Jesus Christ, who atoned for us. It’s about revelation and restoration through prophets, men appointed to lead God’s church. And at the local level, it’s led by a bishop—the father of our ward—who distributes callings, signs temple recommends, and in many ways liaises between each of us and the church organization.

Which makes women… background characters? Across Christianity, we don’t talk normally about a woman playing a role in the creation, establishing the plan of salvation, or our coming to earth. Women often do not hold the “highest” positions in churches. And we don’t hear about a woman’s role in accomplishing our resurrection, atonement, final judgment, and ascension to live with God again. I can say this without rendering an opinion or a commentary; these points are objectively true on how we discuss the gospel in our chapels and classrooms.

My experience with Joseph helped me realize that women often can’t see themselves in God, the way I couldn’t see myself in the nativity. I’ve always believed I could become like God, and it makes sense; as a son I can become like my Father. But what does it mean to become like God if you are unlike Him in an important way? If a woman can see a Woman God, what does that mean for her? Can she now see a greater place for herself within the gospel and the church?

A few years ago, my wife Anne began studying Heavenly Mother. She read books, listened to podcasts, all of it. And I didn’t really get it. It seemed like a fringe doctrine at best, and like the sort of thing where you’d get excommunicated if you went too far with it. It made me a little bit uncomfortable.

But we had a conversation one day that changed things for me. In advance of Elder Renlund’s talk about Heavenly Mother in the April 2022 General Conference, rumors were swirling around the internet about what he would say. There was some concern in certain circles that he would try to clamp down on talking about Heavenly Mother, or otherwise diminish a meaningful doctrine.

True to form, as an obtuse white man, I proceeded to mansplain to Anne what I thought about all of it. I don’t remember what I said, but I am embarrassed for my past self and how foolish I must have looked, esteeming myself an expert on something I knew nothing about.

But Anne (whose virtues exceed mine in every imaginable way) knew better, and she told me so. In a loving-but-fiercely-direct way, she looked me in the eye and said, “No. I need you to hear me on this. I need you to see that just because this is not important to men does not mean it is not important to women. I need you to know it is important to me.”

It was the call to repentance I needed. I’d been leaning on my privilege instead of trying to understand. I assumed I was right, and I wasn’t. I was wrong. I realized that there was something I wasn’t seeing, something I didn’t understand. The idea of having a Mother in Heaven clearly meant more to Anne than it did to me, and I didn’t know why.

I had to humble myself a little bit. I had Anne send me some podcast episodes, as a starting point, so I could educate myself and appreciate, at least a tiny bit, what was important to her in the doctrine of Heavenly Mother. I can’t speak for women, of course, but I found a real and consistent message that it’s important for women to see themselves in God. And they do that through knowing they have a Heavenly Mother, and having Her take Her place next to the Heavenly Father we know so well.

In hopes that it will help others—okay, other men—be wiser than I was, here are the other major things I have learned. I was wrong about three things:

1. We can’t talk about Heavenly Mother (we can).

2. If the doctrine wasn’t a big deal to me, it wasn’t a big deal to others (it was).

3. The doctrine of Heavenly Mother is something only women care about (it’s not).

Let me explain.

It’s okay to talk about Heavenly Mother

The “sacred silence” exists in our wards and stakes, but not for General Authorities. They have talked about Heavenly Mother many times, both in the history of this dispensation and recently. You may have seen my previous post, a list of “100 References to Heavenly Mother in General Conference.” What more proof could you possibly need, that the Brethren are just fine with talking about Heavenly Mother?

There are all sorts of reasons given (again, in hallways and in hushed tones) about why we don’t or shouldn’t talk about Heavenly Mother, but it doesn’t come from a prophet, and hasn’t been taught in Conference:

…we have found no public record of a General Authority advising us to be silent about our Heavenly Mother; indeed, as we have amply demonstrated, many General Authorities have openly taught about her.

If you go to the Church website, and type “Heavenly Mother” or “Mother in Heaven” into the search bar, it will find things! Because they exist! The first result (at least for me, a minute ago) is the Church’s Gospel Topic Essay titled “Mother in Heaven.” The Gospel Topic Essays cover material that is complicated or often misunderstood in the Church (such as polygamy or race and the priesthood), and in the case of Heavenly Mother it serves to clear up some of the things we’ve wrongfully assumed.

The first sentence is declarative, and removes any ambiguity about the Church espousing the doctrine of having a Heavenly Mother:

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teaches that all human beings, male and female, are beloved spirit children of heavenly parents, a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother.

The essay goes on to share a variety of quotes from Church leaders about Heavenly Mother, though notably there are many, many more than are included in the essay. For a more robust history of how the doctrine has been taught in this dispensation, consult A Mother There: A Survey of Historical Teachings about Mother in Heaven, published by BYU Studies, which is the most comprehensive resource out there on the topic.

Ultimately, the fact that prophets and apostles mention Heavenly Mother all the time convinced me that there’s no moratorium on speaking about Her (and that it’s not even a fringe topic). You’re not going to get excommunicated. It’s okay.

It doesn’t actually matter if it’s important to me

On this point, I’m reminded of a favorite webcomic of mine, drawn by the immortal Nathan Pyle (creator of the Strange Planet comic). This particular strip depicts two birds, discussing whether the owl is a predator. They conclude that since the owl has never bothered them, he must not be a threat to anyone, and clearly the mouse is crazy to suggest such a thing.

I’m the bird in this comic. I assumed that my personal experience was universal, and that what mattered to me (or didn’t) was what mattered to everyone else (or didn’t). To put a point on it, having a Heavenly Mother didn’t mean as much to me as it did to Anne. I already saw myself in divinity. So I assumed everyone else did, too.

Academically, this has a lot in common with the False-Consensus Effect, which generally means we tend to overestimate how much other people are similar to ourselves. It has negative outcomes when privilege intersects with marginalized communities; for instance, you might see it in a white person suggesting that people of color simply “pull themselves up by their bootstraps,” and are ignorant of the systemic factors that make doing so more challenging for people of color. The assumption is that if it was easy for me (in that example, maybe someone raised in a wealthy home that could prioritize a good education, etc.), then it must be easy for you.

This was the error I made, when trying to mansplain Heavenly Mother to my ever-patient wife. I assumed that she saw things the same way I did, when of course her experience was different from mine. So, for the men who need to hear it, learn from my mistake: It doesn’t actually matter if Heavenly Mother hasn’t been on your radar. She may be an important part of the lives of women or others around you.

Heavenly Mother is for everyone, not just women

The idea that I vaguely had before—that Heavenly Mother was a bit of a women’s thing—doesn’t even make sense. How could having a Heavenly Mother possibly only mean something to women, and not to men? Why would Heavenly Father be for everyone, but Heavenly Mother be only for women?

Anne and I have four boys, and the relationships they have with her, their earthly mother, are remarkable. They like me, of course, but Mom is clearly the preferred parent. It’s not unusual for a young boy, crying from a skinned knee, to walk straight past me to get to his mom for comfort and a kiss. Everyone’s situation is different of course, but I’m lucky enough to come from a family with a loving mother, like my boys, and my relationship with my mom has been hugely important to me.

We know that our Heavenly Father has infinite and eternal love for each of us; is it unreasonable to think that we can feel the love of our Heavenly Mother too? We’ve been taught that we should not pray to Her, but when we have the spiritual equivalent of a skinned knee, I imagine She is there, ready to wrap Her arms around us. Man or woman, she is our Mother.

With that said, I want to recognize again that our Heavenly Mother may have a special significance to women. If Her presence in our lessons and talks helps women and girls to see themselves in Deity in ways they haven’t before, then we should do everything we can to include Her along with our Heavenly Father.

“No matter to what heights God has attained or may attain, he does not stand alone; for side by side with him, in all her glory, a glory like unto his, stands a companion, the Mother of his children. For as we have a Father in heaven, so also we have a Mother there, a glorified, exalted, ennobled Mother.”¹

I am still learning about my position as a beloved son of a Heavenly Mother. I don’t know as much about Her as I’d like to, but I know She’s there. And that means something to me now.

1. Cited in Bryant S. Hinckley, Sermons and Mission Services of Melvin Joseph Ballard (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1949), p. 205