nibley fellow reflections

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Katherine Kitterman received a Nibley Fellowship during the 2016–17 school year. Kitterman is currently a PhD candidate in American History at American University in Washington, D. C. Her fields of emphasis are public history and women’s history. As the Maxwell Institute redirects our Nibley Fellowship funding away from individual stipends into a full post-doctoral fellowship, we’re looking back at some of the recent Nibley Fellow recipients in recognition of their good work. Read other past Nibley Fellow Reflections here.Years ago, a family from India approached my seat behind the information desk of the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D. C. As the son dropped a few dollar bills into the donation box, his parents complimented the exhibit they had just visited. “Thank you for telling this story,” they whispered through their tears.That encounter has come to mind often during my graduate study; I remember well the rush of my own tears and the powerful connection I felt with these three strangers as we grieved together for people we did not know. The memory reminds me that history binds us together by making the threads of our common humanity visible. It reminds me that when we open our hearts to others’ experiences, we make room for God’s love.In my mind, this connective potential must be one of the reasons behind the scriptural command to early Latter-day Saints to “obtain a knowledge of history, and of countries, and of kingdoms, of laws of God and man, and all this for the salvation of Zion” (D&C 93:15). Obtaining this kind of knowledge gives disciples skills to do the Lord’s work more effectively, but I don’t believe the end goal is to make better leaders or managers or even better communicators. Learning about other people’s experiences is not just a nice supplement to our spiritual endeavors. Instead, if we do it right, the process and practice of history can change us in ways that make us better disciples of Christ.How does this work? Freeman Tilden, the father of historical interpretation in the U.S. National Park Service, wrote that “the use of history is not external but internal…What history does to you, is its use.”Thinking about history means thinking your way into the past and into other people’s shoes. It’s following along with them as they make difficult choices and appreciating their successes. It’s mourning with those who mourn. Thinking historically cultivates empathy and compassion by softening our hearts and attuning them to others’ experiences.Thinking historically also shapes the way we learn. Engaging with history means active listening—it requires asking questions and evaluating what sources can say to us, rather than simply talking at them. Seeking learning in this way cultivates a sort of intellectual humility as we allow other people’s words and lives to change our own views of the world. These intellectual habits of mind certainly lie at the heart of a Zion society.I’m thankful for the Maxwell Institute’s generous donors who have supported my graduate training and my research on nineteenth-century Mormon women’s political activism for suffrage. I’m exploring how these women appropriated the language of citizenship by employing the political forms of expression available to them—petitions, indignation meetings, convention speeches, and for several years, voting in territorial elections.Their story raises (and helps to answer) questions about American women’s history, but it has a more personal power as well. I’m convinced that listening to these women’s words speaking on their own behalf and understanding the dilemmas they faced in navigating their particular opportunities and constraints can help us more fully appreciate the nuance and complexity of their choices. I hope it makes us slower to pass judgement and quicker to see the common humanity in our own world as well as theirs.In a world where mutual respect and understanding are sorely lacking, I’ve been heartened to see museum visitors and history students putting aside their differences to think from a new perspective and consider together the meaning of past people and events. I have hope that historical engagement can forge cultural connections through empathy and conversation.

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The Maxwell Institute has an exciting announcement to make concerning the Nibley Fellowship program this week, so watch this space. In the meantime, enjoy this guest post from Joey Stuart. He's a Nibley Fellowship recipient currently studying at the University of Utah. Here he reflects on how personal vulnerability can help scholars build faith with the help of secular knowledge. When I taught early morning seminary in Richmond, Virginia, I enjoyed using the LDS Church’s Gospel Topics essays to teach aspects of church history and doctrine that many of my students had never encountered. While I used the Gospel Topics essays as my primary text, I also answered questions using my professional training as a historian. My students loved engaging new material and asked excellent questions about race-based priesthood and temple restrictions, plural marriage, women and the priesthood, and many other topics. As a scholar and Latter-day Saint, I savored the experience of sharing my academic expertise in a setting that helped students build faith in Jesus Christ. Teaching seminary was one of the most spiritually and intellectually enriching experiences of my life.It was interesting to me that none of my students ever developed what are sometimes called “faith crises” as a result of my teaching. However, I met with several sets of parents that had questions about history, doctrine, and culture. In one memorable meeting, a mother asked me about the restriction against people of African descent regarding their ordination to the priesthood or participation in temple rituals. I explained the history of the restriction as recovered by scholars in and out of the Church and did not skip any of the painful details. I tried my best to tell her only the facts that I had learned from my years of study about American race and religion so she would not feel that I was trying to excuse past acts. However, I admit part of my teaching “facts” was selfish because it allowed me to separate myself from unsavory events that caused me spiritual pain. I did not have to be vulnerable to share facts; I only had to be informed.She was quiet for a moment, and then suddenly burst out something like this: “People have told me that history before. I am less concerned with knowing how it happened; I want to know what I am supposed to do with the information now. How do you trust the promptings of the Spirit when others felt promptings that in hindsight were so wrong?”This jarring and pointed question taught me a valuable lesson when I spoke with fellow Saints using only secular knowledge. My academic knowledge only mattered in this conversation as much as I was also willing to share my own spiritual experiences, providing both intellectual and devotional frameworks in which others can reconcile faith and knowledge. My expertise only mattered so far as I was willing to speak to my relationship with God and the Church—to be as vulnerable as the person asking me questions. I had to learn to speak about experiences where I had felt the Holy Ghost. I learned that I needed to provide an example of how someone comes to grips with difficult truths and decides to remain planted in the gospel. Remaining aloof and hiding behind rationality does not translate to the difficult task faithful LDS scholars face when they are helping individuals build or regain faith in Christ.I have reflected on this experience many times this year as a Nibley Fellow. I have long admired Dr. Hugh Nibley’s commitment to his faith and to his scholarship—in this he provided all LDS academics an example worthy of emulation. He did not shy away from his identity as a Latter-day Saint nor did he hide his knowledge under a bushel. He helped students and Saints learn from “the best books” and to increase their devotion to the gospel with knowledge obtained through the Spirit and by careful research. Nibley understood that many Saints have benefited from the academic study of religion and history and that rising generations of Mormons will benefit from scholar-disciples’ rigorous study and abiding faith.I am grateful for the generous funding of the Nibley Fellowship Program, which has allowed me to read widely, research in several archives, and prepare articles for submission to academic journals. The Maxwell Institute’s donors have blessed my life by entrusting me with their hard-earned funds—I look forward to the day that I can return the favor and donate to the Nibley Fellowship program.

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Kim Berkey is a Nibley Fellowship recipient currently studying at Harvard Divinity School. In this guest post she reflects on the value of community in both faith and scholarship. See here for more Nibley Fellow Reflections.During Jesus’ last meal with his disciples, Luke reports an interesting piece of counsel given to Peter in preparation for coming trials. This counsel follows on the heels of a petty squabble that breaks out over dinner as the disciples quarrel over “which of them should be accounted the greatest” (Luke 22:24). Seeing in this quarrel a harbinger of future schisms, Jesus turns to Peter and warns: “Simon, Simon, listen! Satan has desired to have you all, to sift you like wheat. But I have prayed for you that your faith might not give out. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” (Luke 22:31–32) As he watches the way a trivial dispute can fracture his disciples, Jesus warns of a much more devastating division still to come. Satan is reaching after them to “sift like wheat”—to divide them, grain from chaff, until they’re broken in pieces, susceptible to being blown about by the wind. In response, Jesus says he is anxiously praying for Peter, gathering up divine resources so that Peter’s faith will not buckle under the weight of his coming trial. After he weathers the terror of Jesus’ death, Peter’s task will be to “strengthen brothers”—to reunify and stabilize the community at which Satan is so fiercely chipping away.I have found myself reflecting lately on this instruction—particularly how it might be applied to a life of academic study, which can all too often be divisive and alienating. One of the unique features of education at a divinity school is the way so many of my colleagues already embody this counsel. They enter graduate work with the goal of ordination, pursuing a degree for the explicit purpose of bringing this training back to their religious community. Although the lay organizational structure of Mormonism alters the roles I might envision for my academic work, the example of my colleagues is a reminder that education can be a resource for “strengthening” our brothers and sisters.I have experienced firsthand the values of religious community for my own intellectual work. My background as a Latter-day Saint and my interest in scripture motivated my decision to pursue graduate training in the first place. Mormonism continues to guide and orient the questions I bring to my study. Perhaps most importantly, fellow Latter-day Saint scholars improve the quality of my work with their support and willingness to act as interlocutors. Luke 22 aptly names these values under the term “strengthen,” which translates a Greek word meaning to “stabilize.” Mormonism and its community provide the grounding, orientation, and unity that together stabilize my work in the academy.In the course of my master’s degree, that strengthening has been most evident in two ways. First, my faith is strengthened by my study. I am committed, more than ever, to the idea that religion matters, and that what we do each week in the pews is connected to life’s most pressing questions. I am convinced that Mormonism holds a legitimate place among the religions of the world. My devotion is richer, deeper, and more deliberate as a consequence of my time at Harvard, and I am thus all the more grateful for those beliefs and practices unique to Mormonism.Second, more pragmatically but no less significant, I am strengthened by the financial support of the Maxwell Institute, which understands that a life of faith is forged in community, and that one of the offerings we can provide to that community is intellectual. The Institute gathers committed minds, publishes and promotes their work, and helps fund the graduate education of future generations of scholars.It is especially meaningful to find myself the recipient of funding in the name of Hugh Nibley, who further embodied the counsel to “strengthen your brethren” by consecrating his academic training in service of the community he loved. I am grateful for the support I have received and, with these models in mind, hope to rely on and offer continued strengthening in years to come.

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In this guest post, Courtney Lyn Jensen Peacock discusses her research on the way religion shapes our understanding of gender roles. She is one of the Maxwell Institute's Nibley Fellowship award recipients. See other recent “Nibley Fellow Reflections” here. Courtney Lyn Jensen PeacockAs a young girl, I loved reading the histories of powerful women, such as Eleanor of Aquitaine, who found ways to make an impact on the world despite society's general limitations on women's agency. My fascination with women's history led me to focus my undergraduate and graduate studies at BYU on the portrayal of women in Anglo-American religious art and literature. In particular, I analyzed the way in which literary and visual representations of holy, “exceptional” women—particularly Queen Elizabeth I and Protestant female martyrs—both shaped and reflected the discourse regarding women’s nature, roles, and access to power during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.Through these studies, I gained a new understanding of the central role religion plays in shaping views on gender roles and attributes. I greatly enjoyed the unique environment of BYU where I could not only learn about academic theories and secular interpretations of history, but have opportunities to discuss how these approaches corresponded with or challenged my own personal religious beliefs. In particular, I am deeply indebted to the various professors who mentored and encouraged me and continue to provide examples of exceptional scholarship coexisting with strong personal faith, including Martha Moffitt Peacock, Craig Harline, Richard Neitzel Holzapfel, Heather Belnap Jensen, and Mark Magleby.In the past few years, while teaching courses on a variety of topics and raising my children, I have pondered the ways in which historical developments impact current dialogue and discourses. In my limited free time, I greatly enjoyed delving into my own history as a descendant of early Latter-day Saints converts and exploring how much my own identity and experience of the world has been shaped by my membership in the LDS church. This personal historical research led me to my dissertation topic, which focuses on early Mormon involvement in Adoptive Masonry (which included women as well as men). I plan to explore the environment in which early Mormon women lived out their faith and how this related to the larger context of women's experiences in nineteenth-century America.My research has provided me with exciting opportunities to explore nineteenth-century material culture and to imagine the environment in which early Mormon women lived in more tangible ways. The LDS Church History Library and Museum as well as the Community of Christ Archives and Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum have all been extremely helpful and accommodating in sharing their extensive collections of early Mormon texts and artifacts.Particular highlights include the opportunities I have had to examine personal items, such as watches, pens, rings, necklaces, and aprons, worn and used by such illustrious early Mormon women as Eliza R. Snow and Emma Smith. And as an example of the personal meaning of my research into Mormon history, during one of my research trips to the DUP in SLC I also discovered furniture and clothing that had been owned by my great-great-grandmother.One of the aspects of studying Mormon history that I love is the way in which it engages with a broad and diversified group—including not only scholars, but also many non-academics interested in Mormonism for a variety of reasons. With the rise of the Mormon “bloggernacle” and the opening up of new sources (like the Joseph Smith Papers Project), I think the study of Mormon history has never been more exciting. With my dissertation research, I look forward to contributing to the active community exploring Mormon history by uncovering and analyzing the social and religious activities and experiences of early Mormon women.I am grateful to the Maxwell Institute, BYU, and all the generous donors who support not only my own studies, but all the many other efforts to promote understanding and mutual respect in a wide range of religious studies.

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