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The elephants in my room

Wayfare tackles the most uncomfortable silence in modern religious life: the stark disconnect between the Church's rhetoric of equality and its rigid, male-only governance. While many publications skim over the structural mechanics of faith, this piece dissects the very architecture of authority, asking whether a system built on ancient hierarchies can truly claim to be a "true and living Church" in the twenty-first century. It is a brave, necessary intervention for anyone trying to reconcile the promise of spiritual partnership with the reality of institutional exclusion.

The Architecture of Exclusion

The piece does not mince words when defining the problem. It identifies the "elephant in the room" not as a theological dispute, but as a structural reality: "The Church's administrative order is structured as a patriarchal hierarchy." Wayfare reports that this is not a subtle nuance but a hard fact of organization, noting that the official roster of general leaders includes "121 men and 9 women." This statistical imbalance is presented not as a historical accident, but as a defining feature of the current era.

The elephants in my room

The argument deepens by examining the local level, where the impact is most felt by ordinary members. The piece highlights that while women lead organizations like the Relief Society, they lack final authority. "The female Relief Society presidents may only make recommendations for who should be called... the final decision... are all the prerogative of the male bishop." This distinction between leadership and authority is crucial. It suggests that women are managers of programs, but men remain the gatekeepers of power. Critics might argue that this separation of duties allows for specialized focus, but the piece effectively counters that by pointing out the lack of reciprocal authority: men do not need to ask women for permission to lead, but women must always ask men.

"Patriarchy describes the Church's governing structure at the general level... the highest tiers of authority are reserved for men only."

The commentary also shines a light on the linguistic cues that reinforce this hierarchy. Wayfare notes a shift in the 2023 Style Guide, where titles for male leaders are abundant and consistent, while female leaders often lose their "President" title in favor of "Sister." This is a departure from history; the piece reminds us that in the early decades, figures like Emma Smith were addressed as "President." The current linguistic shift signals a retreat from the earlier, more robust recognition of female ecclesiastical authority. It is a subtle but powerful way in which culture signals who truly holds the reins.

The Tension of Tradition and Revelation

The piece acknowledges the visceral discomfort this analysis causes. It anticipates two distinct reactions: those who feel the critique is an attack on the faith, and those who feel the contradiction is too great to ignore. "To those in the first group, let me clarify that by describing the Church's governing structure, I am not 'trying to make the Church look bad.'" The argument is that naming the structure is not an act of malice, but of clarity. "This is simply how Church governance is structured," the editors assert, urging readers to see the system as it is, not as they wish it to be.

However, the piece does not stop at critique; it attempts to bridge the gap with a historical perspective. It argues that patriarchal hierarchies are the "building blocks" of civilization, from the Iron Age to the Roman Empire. "Patriarchal hierarchies have delivered the world in which we now live," the text states. This is a provocative stance, suggesting that the Church, like Jesus and Joseph Smith, has often worked within imperfect cultural systems to achieve divine ends. The piece draws a parallel to the early days of the faith, noting that Joseph Smith introduced the Relief Society in 1842 "after the pattern, or order, of the priesthood," creating a space for women that was unprecedented for the time.

Yet, the argument faces a significant counterpoint. If the Church is truly led by ongoing revelation, why does the structure remain so static compared to the rapid evolution of gender roles in the wider world? The piece suggests that "The Lord is expanding the Saints' understanding," but it leaves the reader to wonder if expansion is happening fast enough to satisfy a generation that views gender equality as a baseline human right. The tension between the "fixed allotment" of historical structures and the fluidity of modern values remains unresolved.

"An important part of feminism is recognizing and validating women's labor and activity wherever it can be found, including within patriarchally structured religious organizations."

This insight is perhaps the most generous and complex part of the analysis. It challenges the binary view that one must either accept the hierarchy entirely or reject the faith. Instead, it invites a recognition of the "less visible but perhaps equally influential systems" where women exert power. It is a call to see the whole picture, not just the apex of the pyramid. But it also raises the question: is recognizing labor enough when the power to make final decisions remains elsewhere?

Bottom Line

Wayfare's analysis is a masterclass in navigating the delicate space between faith and critique, offering a clear-eyed look at the mechanics of power without resorting to cynicism. Its strongest move is reframing the issue from a moral failing to a structural reality that must be understood before it can be addressed. The piece's biggest vulnerability lies in its reliance on the idea that working within imperfect systems is sufficient, a stance that may feel like a consolation prize to those demanding full institutional parity. Readers should watch for how the Church responds to this growing awareness of the gap between its inclusive rhetoric and its exclusive governance.

"Natural balance between women and men is important to them, and they get suspicious when they see what looks like a man-made quota system."

The argument ultimately suggests that the future of the Church depends on its ability to reconcile its ancient structures with the modern demand for natural balance. It is a challenge that cannot be ignored, and one that Wayfare has brought into sharp, undeniable focus.

Deep Dives

Explore these related deep dives:

  • Organization (LDS Church)

    This article explains the specific structural mechanism by which women's organizations in the LDS Church are legally and administratively subordinate to male priesthood leadership, clarifying the 'prerogative of the male bishop' mentioned in the text.

  • Seraph Young Ford

    While the article cites her historic 1870 vote, this deep dive reveals the complex legal and political maneuvering required to secure that right in Utah, contrasting the state's early suffrage achievements with the later federal restrictions that shaped the Church's gender politics.

  • Priesthood (Latter Day Saints)

    Understanding the specific theological definition of 'priesthood' as an exclusive male authority rather than a general spiritual status is essential to grasping why the article describes the hierarchy as 'patriarchal' rather than merely 'hierarchical'.

Sources

The elephants in my room

by Various · Wayfare · Read full article

Let’s tackle one of the big elephants in the room: the Church’s patriarchal, hierarchical structure. It’s an elephant, for sure.

In many developed societies around the world, patriarchal hierarchies are generally looked down upon as the unwelcome inheritance of history. Nowadays, equal opportunity for women to participate and lead within the structures of society is something we take for granted. Utahns proudly commemorate Seraph Young’s historic vote in a municipal election in 1870, which made Utah the first place in the United States in which women exercised the same suffrage rights as men. In Aotearoa New Zealand, Kiwis celebrate the world-leading vote for women’s suffrage in 1893 (the women’s suffrage amendment to the U.S. Constitution was not until 1920). We admire strong, capable women who lead nations, courts, and communities, and we want our daughters to hear over and over President Gordon B. Hinckley’s declaration, “The whole gamut of human endeavor is now open to women. There is not anything that you cannot do if you will set your mind to it.”

Within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, however, men and women do not have the same access to decision-making authority over community governance. The Church’s administrative order is structured as a patriarchal hierarchy. “Hierarchy” denotes different tiers of authority within the governing pyramid for the ecclesiastical and corporate organization. It’s not a “flat” egalitarian structure in which all members of the community have the same level of power to steer the organization as a whole (for obvious reasons, very few large communities can be run this way). From the point of view of group governance, “patriarchal” means that the highest tiers of authority are reserved for men only.

This term, patriarchy, describes the Church’s governing structure at the general level. The official chart listing the Church’s general-level leaders, “General Authorities and General Officers of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” shows 121 men and 9 women. “Patriarchy” also characterizes the governance of the local unit of Church organization, the ward or branch, in which the bishop and two counselors, who are men, have authority over all within that unit, including women and organizations led by women. For example, the female Relief Society presidents may only make recommendations for who should be called to fill positions within Relief Society; the final decision of whom to call, act of extending the calling, and ability to remove ...