The Back Bench

Ward Christmas socials are a common tradition throughout the church. It’s one of those unwritten rules, I think. You have to have one. There’s no questioning the practice. It’s so ingrained in our culture, in fact, that to suggest in ward counsel that the ward NOT throw a party this year is a crime punishable only by death.

Incidentally, burning at the stake and being called as the deacon’s quorum advisor are the two swiftest means of execution.

The reason why this practice is so universal, I suspect, is because around the end of December, all wards are frantically trying to spend their budgets. There’s money in the bank, the stake is going to take back what we don’t use, so let’s spend it.

But that’s not the real reason, of course.

The real reason is that we are Christians. Despite what some denominations may say about us, we believe adamantly and absolutely in Christ. We accept Him not only as the Son of God but also as the Savior of the world. He is the greatest man who has ever lived, the center of our religion, and the very reason we exist as an organization in the first place. It’s only fitting for us to commemorate His coming into the world.

And so we have ward Christmas socials.

Yet despite the universality of the tradition, the actual practice of it is unique for every ward. For example, some wards have a dinner. Other wards offer only desserts. Some wards sing Christmas carols. Some wards choose not to sing at all. Some read the Christmas story as recorded in the Gospels. Others recreate the nativity scene – complete with a Mary and a Joseph and several Primary kids dressed as sheep.

My ward leans toward the extravagant when it comes to this little get-together. In fact, little wouldn’t be an appropriate description. People in Los Angeles don’t do little.

No, our Christmas social is a big shebang. The party of the year.

There’s always a dinner and desserts. Then there’s singing. And a reading of the Christmas story. And a nativity scene. And a musical number by the Primary. And a musical number by the choir. And a dance by one of the talented young women. And a guitar song by someone else. And six other presentations. And did I mention the expensive ornamentation and impressively festive decor?

I’d invite you to come and to see the whole spectacle for yourself, but then you’d attend your own ward social and be sadly disappointed. Few parties measure up to the grandeur of ours.

But the size and complexity of these events is not as interesting to me as, say, how they end.

In every ward I’ve ever attended – excusing those I went to as an infant for which I have no memory whatsoever – Santa Claus appeared at the end of the party. He carried a big bag of goodies and bounced around shouting ho ho ho. It was the highlight of the evening.

Most of you likely know the scene to which I refer.

However, some members find this whole Santa business disturbing. They’re not bothered by Santa’s appearance, mind you, though that does tend to terrify a toddler every now and again. No, what bothers them is that Santa shows up at all, and it’s especially troubling that he’s the highlight of the evening.

You see, these people believe Santa has no place inside a church building. Ours or any other.

When I first heard this, I nearly dropped out of my chair. “Have you been roasting chestnuts by the fire and cooked your brain in the process? What could possibly be wrong with Santa?”

I didn’t say those exact words, of course, but I did ask a friend why he opposes Jolly St. Nick at the ward party.

“Are we not a Christian faith?” he said. “Shouldn’t the glorious and miraculous birth of Christ be the center and focus of any Christmas gathering?”

“But we do the manger scene,” I say. “We read the Christmas story. We give the birth of Christ its appropriate attention.”

And to that my Anti-Santa-Lehite says, “Yes, you do the manger scene, but the climax of the evening, the big event, the ‘moment we’ve all been waiting for’ is the arrival of Santa, not Christ.”

“Come on,” I say. “Santa is a tradition. We grew up with Santa. He’s a cultural icon. He embodies the true meaning of Christmas. He’s the spirit of giving. He’s the miracle on 34th Street.”

But my friend, as well as others opposed to the practice, argues that Christ is all of those things as well, and much better at it to boot. After all, doesn’t the Savior represent the true meaning of Christmas? Was it not He who gave the ultimate gift?

I have to admit that I found his argument extremely persuasive.

Of course, some don’t stop there. Santa Claus, some argue, is not only a distraction from Christ, but also a shameless commercial icon who has turned Christmas into a shopping exercise, not a season of service and thanksgiving.

That may be true to some extent, but probably more critical than Jolly St. Nick deserves. He was a real person, after all, and a historically nice one at that.

Another LDS friend of mine and true defender of the man in red cites Santa as the reason Christmas is the biggest public holiday of the year. Because of him, my friend says, Christmas is “a great outpouring of love and magic and mystery and fun.”

And to that I must also agree.

So culturally Santa is the man. But spiritually, he’s out to lunch.

That’s why I suggest that as a people we consider drawing the Santa-line at the ward Christmas party. Let’s leave Santa where he belongs, at the shopping malls.

And let’s reserve the ward Christmas social for the true meaning of Christmas, Christ. It doesn’t have to be a sacrament meeting, of course. We need not hear a weepy round of testimonies. We can have fun and laugh and drink eggnog heartily (the nonalcoholic variety of course).

But the climax of the evening – in fact every aspect of the evening – should focus on Christ.

So let’s keep the old man out of the church.

That is, until the North Pole opens for the preaching of the gospel, at which point we’ll all welcome Santa Claus with open arms. Of course, that corn cob pipe has got to go.

There’s an old saying in the Mormon community: When the going gets tough, the casseroles start coming. And it’s true. We Latter-day Saints give each other food during difficult times. It’s our way of expressing sympathy, love, and affection.

That’s because we’ve learned that food, not laughter, is the best medicine for all of life’s troubles. Say, for example, Sister Larson is getting surgery. How do we help her? Tell her a joke? Tickle her? Put our hand in our armpit and make pumping motions?

No. We bring her food. We rap our knuckles on her front door and hand over a steaming dish of tuna surprise.

This is a marvelous cultural practice.

To free food I say, Hallelujah.

Because let’s face it, whether we’re feeling up or down, we have to eat. Food is a necessity of life. Our bodies need nourishment. If we don’t consume food, eventually our heart stops beating, our bodies stiffen, and we create a new and unpleasant odor.

Plus food provides a pleasant distraction from whatever ails us. Everyone enjoys eating. Good tasting food makes us happy. Eating it is a pleasure.

So if the food you bring over is good tasting, you can be sure it will dispel some of the grief and pain and put sunshine in its place.

I know this because my wife recently had a cesarean section and the ward brought over several meals. It was wonderful. We ate like kings.

One of our meals was so great, in fact, that now my wife now has some serious anxieties about giving other people the food she prepares. You see, a nice couple in the ward brought over a hot meal, which included a salad and some fancy schmancy salad dressing; a huge bouquet of flowers in a nice vase; a bottle of sparkling grape juice; and one of the best darn cakes I’ve even sunk my teeth into. It was amazing. I felt like Louis the XIV. Or was it the Louis XVI?

In any case, they really outdid themselves. So now my wife is afraid that if she ever has to take food over to this couple, it’s never going to feel like enough. Whatever she prepares will seem like crackers and cheese to these people.

Especially if it is crackers and cheese.

So we’re praying that they never get sick and that the husband never loses his job. That way, we won’t have to blow half of my paycheck on preparing them a nice meal.

But food isn’t the only remedy for life’s speed bumps. It’s the most commonly used one, yes. But not the only one.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could give away some of the other necessities of life?

Take sleep, for example. Wouldn’t it be great if we could give eight hours of sleep to someone in need?

Everyone enjoys sleeping. And we all feel better and more relaxed when we’re well rested. What could be a better gift than that?

Knock! Knock!

(I answer the door.)

ME: Brother Ronin, what a pleasant surprise.

BRO. RONIN: Hello. I hope I’m not disturbing that new baby of yours.

ME: Goodness, no. He’s fine. Won’t you come in?

BRO. RONIN: Oh, I better not. Gertie and the kids are out waiting in the minivan. We just wanted to come by and bring you this.

(He hands me a plate of eight hours of sleep).

ME: Sleep? Ah, Brother Ronin, you shouldn’t have.

BRO. RONIN: Well, Gertie and I know how difficult it can be to get a good night’s rest with a new baby in the house so …

ME: Wow, this is so sweet of you.

(My wife Lauren walks up.)

LAUREN: Who is it , Dear? Why, Brother Ronin, how are you?

ME: Look, Honey. The Ronins brought us some sleep.

LAUREN: (tearing up) How thoughtful.

BRO. RONIN: Well, shucks.

ME: This is great. Can I return the plate to you on Sunday?

BRO. RONIN: Take your time. No rush. Ya’ll have a good night.

ME and LAUREN: Bye now.

(We close the door and down the sleep immediately.)

Absurd? Maybe not. Science is always full of surprises. Who knows what the next five years will bring.

And maybe we’ll be able to give away sleep without needing a plate. That would be nice. One of the drawbacks of having several meals delivered to your house in a single week is that it’s easy to forget whom all the dishes belong to.

Oh sure you remember who gave you food. It only starts getting tricky when you have to remember which of the salad bowls is the Hanson’s and which is the Needlemeyer’s. And who gave you that clear Pyrex dish? Was it the Simpson’s or the Brundlehammer’s?

And more importantly, who has a name like Brundlehammer?

But whether it’s sleep or Hamburger Helper or Kellogs Rice Crispy treats, gifts from fellow Latter-day Saints do what no other physical remedy can: they remind us that we’re loved by people who empathize with and understand our pain. And isn’t that what Zion is? A group of people whose hearts are pure and focused on the well being of the others?

And of course we didn’t invent the practice of giving away food. Folks have been doing that since the beginning of time. And we certainly didn’t invent brotherly kindness. But isn’t it wonderful that so many members seem to understand this principal so well?

My wife and I are certainly grateful. The transition in our home from one child to two has been relatively easy thanks to the generosity of the people in our ward.

Of course, now that our son is one month old, the meals are coming less frequently. And frankly that’s too bad.

So we’ve been thinking: What can we do to get another round of free food?

Having a baby got us a lot of grub, so we’ve considered pretending to have another one. But some people in the ward are smart and won’t believe us. Plus, we’d eventually we’d have to produce a baby to verify our claim.

So we’ve decided that Lauren and I have come down with a terrible illness. It’s very bad. And we can’t remember the name of it, but it has a lot of consonants, and our doctor said it was very dangerous. He also said that getting near a refrigerator or stove, even if the latter isn’t turned on, will worsen our condition.

“Whatever you do,” he said, “don’t cook. Heaven help you if you so much as fire up the microwave. Welts and warts and tattoos will pop up all over your body and your hair will all fall out.”

“But, Doctor,” I said, “whatever can we do?”

“Ironically, there’s only one way to treat this malicious disease,” he said. “You got to eat. You got to sit down at a table and gorge yourself silly. And I’m not talking about Ramen noodles here, folks. I’m talking about five-star-restaurant gourmet food. Truffles and veal and chicken parmesan.”

“But where or where can we get food like that if we can’t cook?” my wife asks, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t know,” the doctor said, “Merciful stethoscope, I just don’t know.”

So there you have it. Sister Johnston and I aren’t doing so well these days. I’d tell you to spread the word, but knowing you guys, you’d do something about it.

But don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine. <cough cough>

My wife and I missed all the sessions of general conference last week. But we had a good excuse. My wife was giving birth.

Our second son popped out during the Saturday morning session not half an hour after the two new apostles were called. I suggested that we name him Dieter Uchtdorf Johnston in honor of one of our new apostles, but my wife wouldn’t have it.

So we named him Jacob instead.

Back in the olden days, back when the church was first organized, if you missed a session of general conference you were plum out of luck. The Ensign didn’t exist. Transcripts of talks weren’t made available. If you wanted to catch conference, your only choice was to squeeze into the tabernacle.

Of course, it was also in those meetings that men were called on missions and asked to leave their families to preach the gospel abroad. So if you were a grown man, maybe missing the meeting wasn’t a bad idea.

In any case, the audience for general conference used to be tiny, finite.

That changed. Eventually talks were printed and circulated for members to read. Then came radio. And then satellite television. Members could now watch conference live from their ward buildings or, if they owned a satellite, their homes.

Then came the internet. With it church members throughout the world could listen to conference live in their native language at a fraction of the cost of satellite TV. All it took was an ISP and a phone line.

And if you missed a session, no problem. The church provided streaming audio of every session at the church website.

And now streaming video is available, meaning you can watch any session of conference, including the priesthood session, whenever you chose.

This is incredibly convenient. My wife, who spends much of her day sitting and feeding the new baby, has already watched most of the sessions we missed. It’s wonderful.

And as if that weren’t enough, the church will now make sessions of conference available for download as mp3 files. How cool is that? All of you iPod owners out there can now add President Hinckley to your play lists. For free.

I’ve heard it said many times before, and always as a matter of opinion, that technology advances so that the gospel can advance. TV exists because the Lord needed TV. The internet exists because the Lord needed the internet.

There may be some truth to that. Maybe not. What I do know, however, is that the church is wise to embrace technology and use it as a weapon of truth.

Take the church website for example. It’s packed with more information on our beliefs, practices, history, and scripture than you’ll find in any single text. There are pages on music, welfare, church news, child adoption, whatever. It’s wonderfully comprehensive.

And it’s available to everyone, free of obligation. You don’t have to login. You don’t have to give away your email address. You just go to the site and browse. No gimmicks. No tricks.

For nonmembers leery of speaking with the missionaries, the website is a wonderful resource. And if the nonmember’s investigation is sincere, chances are he or she will feel the Spirit of the Lord while browsing the site and want to know more.

Of course, members benefit from the site as well – probably more so. All of the resources we need for our Sunday worship are available to us online.

One of my favorite pages at the church site, for example, is the download page for PDAs or handheld computers. I don’t own a PDA but I’m fascinated by them. I see them all the time at church now. They hold scriptures, hymns, lesson manuals, everything. They’re compact, light, and very convenient.

And they also hold video games, so you can give the appearance of following the lesson while playing a round of Frogger.

Go to the church’s music site and you can teach yourself to conduct music, download your favorite primary song, or even submit an original song to the church to be considered for publication.

Need a home evening lesson? No sweat. The Home and Family segment of the website has over twenty prepared lessons to choose from – not to mention a huge list of fun activities you can do as a family to compliment each lesson.

Of course the most commonly used feature of the website is the general search option. I’d wager that 99% of sacrament meeting speakers use this resource when preparing their talks. It’s great. I don’t know how we wrote talks without it.

And that makes me wonder, what awaits us in the future? What technologies will the church embrace ten years from now? Twenty? Will they spread the gospel faster? Teach the doctrine better? If they aid the cause of Christ, you can be sure the church will use it.

Of course even more reassuring is the fact that the truth won’t change. Science may evolve and the chip may get smaller, but the the truth of the gospel will remain steady and constant with no shadow of turning.

So even if Jacob grows up and watches conference through hologram goggles, he’ll still hear the same truths we’re hearing now. He’ll just look a little cooler doing it.

Whenever general conference rolls around I think, “What’s the big news, what new program will the church institute, what’s going to change?”

Normally there isn’t a big announcement. More often than not it’s conference as usual. But occasionally the brethren surprise us with some new, exciting church program.

Like when President Hinckley announced his plans to build smaller temples throughout the world. Or when the Perpetual Education Fund was first introduced.

I live for announcements like that. They’re always inspiring.

That’s why I was tickled pink recently to learn that the church tests many of these programs long before they’re instituted – making it possible for impatient people like me to find out about the programs BEFORE they’re announced.

Take my friend Gary, for example. His real name is Matthew, but for the sake of preserving his privacy, we’ll call him Gary.

So Gary says to me yesterday, “Hey, did you hear about the new pilot program the church has going on right now?”

And because I like comic books my first thought is, “Pilots? The church has airplane pilots? You mean like a secret squadron of aces trained to protect the brethren and defend the faith?”

But that seemed farfetched, so I said, “No, I haven’t heard.”

“Well,” says Matthew … er, Gary, “my wife’s father lives in Arizona and his ward is involved in a pilot program in which members attend church for two hours instead of three.”

“Come again?” I said. My heart had stopped beating. Surely I had misheard.

“They go to church for only two hours,” he repeated.

And then I put Gary in a tight choke hold and threatened him with his life until he swore he was telling the truth and not making some sick joke.

Turns out he wasn’t joking, so I let him go. “Wow. Two hours. Which meeting was dropped?” I asked.

Once Gary got air back into his lungs he said, “Sunday School, I think.”

That made sense. If one meeting is going to go, it’s obviously going to be Sunday School. Sacrament is a must. And the church isn’t likely to do away with priesthood or Relief Society.

But when I asked further questions, Gary was no help. He didn’t know any of the details.

And so I now I’m stuck with all of these quandaries (which I’m gladly passing along to you unanswered). What were the reasons for going to two hours? How long has this test been going on? How many other wards are participating? Is the church seriously considering doing this?

And most important of all: What other experiments is the church conducting?

And then I remembered my own ward. A few weeks ago, the bishop announced that we would be participating in a special pilot program that combined family history work with the missionary effort.

Basically it works like this: members ask their friends if they’re interested in learning more about their own family history. If the friend says yes, the member gives the friend a card to fill out that’s basically a three generational pedigree chart.

The member then takes that information to one of the ward family-history specialists, who spends several hours doing additional family history for this individual.

The results can be impressive – with some specialists finding new family lines, additional generations, or even detailed government documents like military records that unlock an ancestor’s past.

All of these findings are then gathered, organized, and delivered to the friend via the full-time missionaries. It’s a priceless gift, much like the personal genealogical records the church has always given to visiting dignitaries.

So far the response has been good. Some nonmembers are so impressed with the gift that they want to know more about the church and why we place such an emphasis on the family.

It seems like a promising program.

But again I ask myself, What else does the church have up its sleeves? What other programs are currently being tested elsewhere?

My search at the church website shed no light on the subject. Apparently pilot programs are kept hush hush until the church decides to institute them. Good old fashioned gossip is the only way to spread the word.

So if there’s a pilot program in your neck of the woods, share. Spread the gossip. Give us the lowdown. I’d feel special if I knew about a program before it was officially announced.

And in the meantime, here are a few of my own suggestions I’d like to see pilot tested.

1. Pulpit Trap Doors

Let’s face it. Sometimes crazy people get to the microphone. When that happens, we’re powerless. We’re stuck. All we can do is sit and listen. I say: No more. Put a big red button on the back of every pew and when someone starts preaching false doctrine, send them to the basement.

Now, I’m not a cruel person. The trap door would open to a slide with a gradual slope and eventually end at a bed of soft foam. See? Nice.

2. Giant Gongs

This is similar to the pulpit trap door concept. We hang a giant gong at the back of the congregation and whenever someone starts talking crazy talk, we whack that sucker and send the person back to their seat.

Note: This idea could combined with the pulpit trap door concept.

3. Nursery muzzles

Some kids are killers. You know the ones I mean. They look as sweet as ginger, but they got a mean streak a mile wide. I say we curb that naughty demeanor with some tight-fitting leather head gear and keep those biting jaws shut.

Leash optional.

4. Conveyor Belt Hallways

You know those moving walkways at airports? They’re basically giant conveyor belts you can stand on and ride to the next terminal. A marvelous invention. I say we install those in the hallways at church. That way, people can’t crowd the hallway while you’re trying to get to class. No more lollygagging.

And more importantly, no more walking!

5. Kitchen Crooks

Why is it that food left in the kitchen is always mysteriously eaten? Sometimes it’s only a few chips from the bag. But other times, the whole blasted cake is gone. It’s getting to where no food is safe. I say we end this thievery by installing some food traps by the fridge.

They are many ways to do this of course – my favorite being weight sensitive electric floor pads. If someone stands on this and increases their weight by lifting a single cupcake, they’ll get the electric shock of their lives.

6. Missionary Flares

This last one really isn’t a church-wide suggestion, but here goes. You know those awkward moments when missionaries ask you if you’ve been speaking to any of your friends about the gospel? Well, who are you kidding? You’ve got nothing to report. And instead of having to admit that you’re a slacker, wouldn’t it be nice if you could distract the missionaries and make them forget what they were asking?

BANG!

YOU: Hey look, Elders. A flare.

ELDERS: Oooo. Pretty.

The flare burns out and falls to the earth.

ELDERS: Now … uh, what were we talking about?

VOILA!

So there you have it. A few suggestions.

Keep your ears open at conference. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of my ideas was put on the fast track and instituted immediately.

OK, hypothetical situation: you’re the final speaker in sacrament meeting, and the previous speakers have left you no time. Technically the meeting should be concluding about now, but you haven’t even started talking yet.

What do you do?

Deliver the ten-minute talk you worked so hard to prepare? Cut it down to five minutes so the meeting only goes five minutes over? Tell the congregation how grateful you are that you don’t have to speak after all and sit down?

Hmm. Let’s consider each option.

Give the talk you prepared.

You worked hard. You prayed. You meditated. You spent hours in front of the computer screen writing and rewriting, thinking and rethinking. The scriptures you found are dead on. The quotes you found from general authorities are perfectly appropriate.

In short, the talk is a masterpiece.

And you’re certain the Lord guided you in your preparation. You felt inspired to go to certain scriptures, to look in certain books, to read certain passages. This is the message the Lord wants you to give. You’re sure of that.

And to cut any of it would be a travesty. It’s perfect as is. It can’t be shortened.

So ignore the clock and just do it.

Cut it down.

Although it pains you, maybe there is a way to slice off a minute or two here and there. Perhaps you don’t need that lengthy quote from Brigham Young. And maybe you can live without reading a few of the scriptures.

What’s important is that the congregation understands the gist of your talk, right? You can still make your point. You can’t use as many examples, of course, but you can still communicate the main idea.

And so what if you’re a few minutes over? Doesn’t sacrament meeting go over every Sunday anyway? Why should this Sunday be any different?

Besides, it isn’t your fault the other speakers completely ignored the time parameters given them and spoke for twenty minutes each instead of for twelve.

So, yes, you can cut down the talk to a few minutes. And if the meeting goes a little over, so what?

Say a sentence or two and sit down.

Making a joke about how the other speakers left you no time is probably a bad idea – no need to embarrass them; they probably know by now that they went over and likely feel bad about it. Why kick them while they’re down?

The best thing to do is to bear a brief testimony of the topic and sit down. Yes, you prepared a beautiful talk, but time is time. The Lord’s house is a house of order.

If you go over, you’re only doing to the Sunday School teacher what the previous speakers did to you: robbing time.

Best to put an end to this by keeping your message under thirty seconds. Doing so will get everyone back on track and not disrupt the remaining meetings.

OK, there are the arguments. Each has its merits, right? So which is the right choice? A, B, or C?

My vote: follow the brethren.

Sessions of General Conference always end on time. In fact, sometimes sessions even end early. President Hinckley is notorious for that.

Shouldn’t we do the same?

Meetings should end on time. Period. And if a meeting does go over, it only does so at the request of the priesthood authority presiding at the meeting. Speakers do not have the “right” to make that decision.

Consider testimony meetings. In some wards, members hoping to bear their testimony go and sit on the stand to “wait their turn.”

Now, if a long line forms and time expires, the bishop does NOT have to wait for everyone to have their turn. He may stand up and conclude the meeting precisely when he is supposed to – even if that means several people must return to their seats without having born their testimony.

Of course, he can allow the meeting to go over if he so chooses. But he doesn’t have to. He’s presiding. It’s his call.

I always chuckle to myself when I notice someone trying to beat the bishop to the pulpit. They know he’s about to conclude the meeting, so they hustle to the microphone before he can get there.

My favorite, of course, is when someone asks permission. They’re already on the stand. They know time is up. And yet they ask permission anyway.

This is usually done with body language. They gesture to the bishop that they’re comments will be brief. (The most common gesture is the thumb and forefinger placed close together. “I’ll only use a little time,” they say.)

And because they do so in front of EVERYONE, the bishop’s only option is to say yes. He’s backed in a corner. If he flat out says no, he’ll seem cruel – even though it’s his prerogative and responsibility to do so.

This problem isn’t isolated to sacrament meeting, though. Watching the clock should be a priority no matter what meeting we’re attending.

Take Sunday School for example. I once had a teacher who always ended five or ten minutes over. Always.

And it wasn’t that she simply forgot about the time. That’s a natural mistake. This teacher knew what time it was and chose to go over.

I know this because she always said, “I know we’re over time, but…” right when we were supposed to be concluding. And then she would go on to share a few more scriptures or read another quote or ask another question or show another visual aid.

She totally disregarded the clock.

As a result, priesthood and relief society always started late. And as a result of that, the teachers of those classes always had less time than they needed to share their prepared lesson – further proof that when someone goes over, everyone suffers.

The worse abuse of time management, however, occurs when a teacher or speaker goes over in the final meeting.

If church is supposed to end at noon, for example, the teacher should not conclude his or her lesson at 12:05. This is wrong.

And some of you are saying, “What’s five minutes? Isn’t the purpose of the Sabbath to come together and worship? Why should it matter if the teacher goes over a few minutes? Perhaps Brother Johnston should worry more about his spiritual development than about getting out of class on time.”

And to that I say, “You must not have children in Primary or nursery.”

The Primary presidency and nursery leader cannot leave until every child has been reunited with a parent. If one meeting goes over, these sweet sisters are stuck babysitting our children. And frankly, that’s not fair.

Parents should pick up their children precisely when they are expected to. So if a meeting does go over, parents should sneak out and hustle over to Primary. Their first obligation is to their child.

This subject is a little sensitive to me because my wife is Primary president. She’s often had to wait around for a dawdling parent to come and retrieve their child.

She shouldn’t have to.

And the same goes for Primary activities. Some parents, for whatever reason, can’t pick up their children when they’re supposed to. If the activity ends at noon, for example, some parents don’t show up until 12:30, long after most kids have gone home.

This makes no sense to me. If the activity ends at noon, parents should be there and waiting before noon. This is simply common courtesy, right?

But enough complaining. My point is this: meetings should end on time. Speakers and teachers should end when they’re supposed to, regardless of what time has been used up before them. Your preparation, however extensive, does not entitle you to ignore the clock. We are all slaves to time, even at church.

And speaking of time, mine is up.

I hate bad advertising.

Take last night, for example. I was driving home when I heard a sixty-second radio spot for a local plumbing company. During the spot, an announcer explains – rather excitedly I might add – that plumbers from this particular company don’t smell bad.

And that was it. For a whole sixty seconds, all the man talked about was how these plumbers don’t reek of bad odor.

Rather than talk about their service or prices or reliability, this plumbing company choose to put all their advertising eggs in the no-stinky-staff-members basket.

ANNOUNCER: So call Thompsom Plumbing. Because our plumbers don’t smell bad.

OK, did I miss something? Did I suddenly fall into a parallel universe, one in which plumbers are hired to NOT smell bad instead of being hired to fix the pipes?

I can see it now. I’m sitting in the living room with my wife.

“Golly, this house stinks,” I say. “The candles stink. The trash stinks. The dog stinks. Can’t we get some relief?”

My wife raises a finger, as if suddenly struck with inspiration. “I know,” she says. “What we need is something that does NOT stink.”

“By George you’re right,” I say, sitting up suddenly. “But whatever could that be?”

As an answer to our plea, the radio plays a particular commercial.

ANNOUNCER: So call Thompsom Plumbing. Because our plumbers don’t smell bad.

“Eureka!” I shout. “That’s the answer. Quick, honey, write down that number. ”

OK, I hate to burst your bubble, local plumbing company, but nobody cares that your plumbers all small of roses. Think about it. If the toilet explodes and water is spraying up to the ceiling, all I care about is that someone stops the water before the house floats away. He could be a rotten egg with hands for all I care. What’s important is that he fixes the leak.

Of course, what’s most appalling about this ad is that someone thought this was a good idea and paid real American dollars to produce it and play it on the radio.

Ouch.

The fact is, bad advertising is far more prevalent than good advertising. That’s why we as Latter-day Saints should thank our lucky stars that the church clearly understands how to advertise.

A few years ago, when a friend of mine found out I was Mormon, he immediately started singing.

“Mr. Robinson, I broke your window. Mr. Robinson, I broke your window.” And then finished the operatic performance singing, “I told the truthhhhhhhhhhhh.”

I had completely forgotten this spot, but as he explained it to me, it slowly came back to memory.

In the commercial, a little boy hits a baseball through the window of his aged neighbor, Mr. Robinson. The boy then must decide if he’s going to fess up to the deed or run away with hopes of never getting caught.

Well, of course he admits to doing it. But he does so in song.

The old man comes to the door and the little boy sings, “Mr. Robinson, I broke your window. Mr. Robinson, I broke your window.” And then when the relief of being honest washes over him, he sings triumphantly, “I told the truth.”

The spot ended with the announcer saying something about the importance of being honest.

I may be butchering the commercial, but that’s the gist of it.

And here was my friend, some fifteen years later, reciting the commercial as if he’d seen it on television only yesterday.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is every advertiser’s dream: long recall.

The church has been making public service announcements like this one for over thirty years. (Well, actually Bonneville Communications made the spots for the Church.) They’re all part of the Homefront campaign, the longest lasting, “most highly awarded PSA campaign series in broadcasting history” (Bonneville Communications website).

You hear that? The most awarded PSA campaign in history. In a word, church advertising rocks!

My favorite series of ads from the Homefront campaign end with the tagline: “Family. Isn’t it about time?” These are classics.

The best of the bunch is the one in which a little girl constantly asks her father to read to her a story. Remember this one? At the end of the spot the little girl creeps into her parents’ room while they’re sleeping.

“Daddy, can you read me a story?” she asks once again, in that adorable, not-pronounced-correctly way.

The father barely wakes up. “Go ask Mommy,” he manages to say.

The little girl then walks around the bed to Mom’s side and asks, “Mommy, can Daddy read me a story?”

OK, say it with me: Ahhhhhhhhh. Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?

It’s a cute spot. And I’m a sucker for cute.

Another classic spot was the one in which a gruff-looking factory working sings to his daughter over the telephone. He’s at work taking a break, and the little girl has apparently requested a rendition of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

Fearful that his fellow workers might overhear him singing a children’s song and think him unmanly, the father begins singing quietly. Soon, however, he’s into the song and singing as loudly as he would if he were home. His daughter couldn’t be happier.

He then tells her he loves her and hangs up the phone.

Sure enough, a crowd of men have gathered. They tease him for his singing, but he shows no sign of shame.

“What can I say?” he says, smiling. “She’s my little girl.”

That, folks, is a great spot.

The true genius of these commercials, though, is that they’re all public service announcements. That means they get free air time. The church pays to distribute the spots, but not to play them. Television and radio stations do that for free.

And why for free? Well, firstly because TV and radio stations are required by law to play so many minutes of PSAs a month. Secondly, PSAs are for the public good. They teach lessons on morality and family values that benefit all of society.

That’s why I’m sad the church has made so few, if any, Homefront spots recently. The campaign has practically skidded to a halt. After thirty years of consistently good advertising, the church has slowed Homefront to a crawl.

There are several reasons for this, the economy being the most obvious. When money is tight, advertising budgets are often the first ones to go.

But another reason is that the church has placed a greater emphasis on the “call for a free copy” campaign. You know the one I’m talking about. In these spots, a toll-free number pops on screen and the announcer invites people to call in and get a free copy of the Book of Mormon or the Bible.

It’s a great campaign. The church has had tremendous success with it. Thousands of fellow Christians have been introduced to our beliefs through this effort.

But I sure do miss the Homefront ads. And so…

Dear Church Audio Visual Department,

My fellow Homefront fans and I are dying for some more commercials. Don’t leave us hanging. The campaign has been doing just fine for thirty years now, so let’s not spoil a good thing. Get out there and roll those cameras.

And while we’re waiting, put all the past Homefront ads on a DVD collection and sell it through church distributon. People would buy it. I know I would. The vignettes of cute kids and happy family moments are far more entertaining than most movies I see these days.

Respectfully yours,

Aaron Johnston

Come on, wouldn’t a DVD collection be cool? What could be more fun than gathering the family on a Sunday evening and watching the Homefront ads?

Goodness, now that I think about it, that’s a Homefront ad in and of itself, a family gathering to watch good commercials. It brings a tear to my eye.