“These Foolish Things”

I hope today that you are ready to maybe make some history with me. I really hope that, because today we—you and I—are about to be part of a historic event. That’s because finally—after more than 2,000 inspiring, game-changing BYU devotionals dating all the way back to Karl G. Maeser’s inaugural speech in 1892, during which time students and faculty have heard stirring orations from Church leaders, faculty, and captains of industry alike, all of which were designed to evoke in us the most lofty ideals of character and conscience, until today, when this string will sadly be broken—you will hear what will be the first-ever discourse exhorting you to simply be, well, a fool! Which, come to think of it, might very well be the first, the last, and the only speech you’ll ever hear from this pulpit advocating foolishness!

Actually, I’m going to tell you a story about a man who was considered a fool because he was foolish enough to pursue the impossible—which, if you think about it, really isn’t so foolish, as I hope you’ll see. But first I want to invite you to come back with me to a very transformative day in my life, just over fifty years ago.

“The Impossible Dream”

It was a late spring afternoon in 1971, and from the get-go it seemed to be anything but the pivotal experience it would turn out to be. You see, that was the day my grandmother took me—maybe “dragged me” is a more apt description—to my first experience with a Broadway musical.

And it was there, in the ensuing two hours— immersed in that suspended reality of a mystical theatrical setting, accentuated by the smoky footlights, the greasepaint, and the dreamlike world of a darkened theater—that a story unfolded that would forever alter my outlook on my then very shallow thirteen-year-old life.

That’s because this play was anything but a typical song-and-dance “happily ever after” story. Instead, this story challenged me in unanticipated ways because it unsettled me, and by the end of the show I was provoked to expand my thinking about the possibilities of not only what the world around me could be but, more importantly, of my place in it.

This awakening was all spurred by the musical adaptation of one of the best-selling books of all time: Don Quixote. Originally published in 1605, Miguel de Cervantes’s seminal work of Spanish literature was a groundbreaking novel. The play I attended was the 1965 musical adaptation called Man of La Mancha, which was artfully crafted as a play within a play, set in a very dark and dingy prison during the Spanish Inquisition.¹ It masterfully created subterfuge and intrigue by darting back and forth between two parallel stories—that of the imprisoned poet Cervantes performing his tale for his fellow inmates and the adventures of his protagonist, a man named Don Quixote. And all of this, of course, blurred the lines between perception and reality in dramatic fashion.

Needless to say, it was absolutely mind-blowing compared to my media diet of that era, which consisted mostly of Saturday morning cartoons and weeknight situation comedies!

At the heart of this story is Don Quixote, a self-knighted knight. In our day and age, most would call him an idealist—in the world’s view at least—because he is blind to reality and is really laughed off as a fool. Yet with 20/20 clarity, Quixote sees only the divinity in our world and its people, and he devotes his life to advocating and defending goodness. Joined by his much more practical—and, I should add, skeptical—squire at his side, Quixote sallies bravely forth into a deranged world to battle injustice, to right all wrongs, and to reclaim the age of chivalry, nobility, and decency.

Quixote embodied perfectly President Russell M. Nelson’s teaching some four hundred years later that “the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”²

This prophetic invitation clearly calls for us to not be distracted or deterred by what I call the “stuff” of life besieging us each and every day. Big stuff or little stuff, it’s really all the same. And seeing it that way is not easy—I know that. Things such as midterms, dating, marriage, and graduate school—all those stresses. Just thinking about the future and our place in it can seem overwhelming.

However, Quixote’s example, like President Nelson’s, teaches us that our focus must be our priority. That’s what allows Quixote to set out on his arguably grandiose and self-appointed “quest” that propels him into a series of misadventures brought on because of his insistence on seeing the noble and the virtuous in all things.

This includes a tawdry, dilapidated roadside inn that he perceives as a king’s castle; an ignoble, abused peasant woman whom he reveres for her virtue, beauty, and honor; and, of course, the iconic and most famous of his misperceptions, a giant windmill that Don Quixote does battle with, mistaking it for a monster. Hence the timeless English idiom still used widely today: “tilt at windmills,” meaning “to use time and energy to attack an enemy or problem that is not real or important,”³ which sounds pretty foolish, right? Which is exactly what President Nelson is cautioning us against. Yet when I hear that phrase, it causes me to think: “Am I putting my time and energy into things that really matter? Or do I spend too much time tilting at the windmills of the unimportant, the trivial, and even the inconsequential?”

The book of Helaman ends with a very similar caution: “And many more things did the people imagine up in their hearts, which were foolish and vain; and they were much disturbed.”⁴

For these and many other misguided forays, this nearsighted knight-errant and his absurd mission are mocked, and he is roundly dismissed as a half-witted fool.

But unfazed, Don Quixote pursues his crusade and stays relentlessly riveted to his—as most people would say—“foolish” task. Capturing the dramatic contrast between reality and his avowed purpose, Quixote simply explains, “I come in a world of iron to make a world of gold.”⁵

Today at BYU, as you consider this dissonance between the harsh realities of your world and, in the words of the prophet Jacob, “things as they really are,”⁶ perhaps you can see how this tension challenged my immature teenage mind—how it forced me to grapple with difficult questions: Was I to side with those mocking this “madman” and his seemingly impossible and foolish quest? Or was there another viable and maybe even more valuable perspective? Should I see things through Quixote’s eyes? Was I dismissing his intent because of the impracticality of this clearly laughable venture? Most vexing to me was the paradox of doing what’s right even when all around you scoff and call it wrong.

This quixotic quandary is probably best summed up in this memorable line—my favorite line from all of them—voiced by a weary Quixote, who, after being relentlessly scorned and jeered for his efforts, gave this poignant reflection:

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams—this may be madness. To seek treasure where there is only trash. . . . And maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be.⁷

I hope this reminds all of us that the very highest, noblest, Christlike ideals within us—along with every worthy hope and dream we hold most dear—are well worth clinging to and standing up for despite the ridicule and biting scorn of a very nay-saying world, a world that even today would dismiss a personal quest—your personal quest—for the noble and divine as nothing but a fool’s errand.

But remember that, as our thirteenth article of faith enjoins, “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.”⁸

Believers and doers with the courage to do noble deeds, to champion big ideas, and to make the impossible possible are still sorely needed. But to really make a difference in the world, we have to live it, be all in, and be fully vested in the cause, come what may. As President Gordon B. Hinckley once said, “I believe in my capacity and in your capacity to do good, to make some contribution to the society of which we are a part, to grow and develop, and to do things that we may now think are impossible.”⁹

Speaking of making the impossible work, the iconic song of Man of La Mancha is called “The Impossible Dream,” and it’s very much an anthem to Don Quixote’s dogged pursuit of being a change agent in this world. Consider its simple invitations:

To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love, pure and chaste, from afar,
To try, when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!¹⁰

Achieving the impossible takes overcoming the unbeatable, the unbearable, and the unrightable—which demands an unflinching, undeterred person with vision, stick-to-itiveness, and, of course, a willingness to work.

“Fools for Christ’s Sake”

Let me give you two very close-to-home examples of people who embarked on epic, impossible, and improbable quests of their own.

The first is Martha Hughes Cannon. Born in Wales in 1857, Martha followed her faith to Utah, where she earned degrees in medicine and pharmacy during an era when not many women pursued those fields. Seeing the dire needs of the underserved in her day, she then turned her attention to public policy and politics. Martha was so determined to change the world that she ran against her own husband for the same public office—and then beat him, becoming the first female state senator ever elected in the United States. I don’t know this for sure, but I bet election night in the Cannon household can be summed up in one word: awkward!

Very appropriately, this past December a statue of this visionary physician, suffragist, senator, wife, and mother was unveiled in the United States Capitol right next to a statue of Brigham Young. Marveling at the improbable journey of Dr. Cannon, President Camille N. Johnson observed, “The things she was doing in her time probably seemed impossible, or nearly impossible, to achieve.”¹¹

Then there was this aspiring quarterback you may have heard of named Steve Young, who—like Martha—also followed his faith to Utah and who reported for fall football practice in Provo in August 1980. He found himself locking down the starting spot at quarterback—that is, presuming the seven quarterbacks ahead of him on the depth chart all got hurt or transferred!

Even worse, the eighth-string Young came to BYU’s “pass factory” having been a running quarterback in high school. So grim was his future that a coach unceremoniously told Young that there were no left-handed quarterbacks in the Pro Football Hall of Fame and then told him bluntly, “You’ll never play quarterback at BYU. I don’t coach lefties.”¹² To which Young later wrote in his memoir, “Despite all of my insecurities, I was attracted to the impossible.”¹³

Steve Young not only became one of the best quarterbacks in BYU history but went on to the National Football League, in which he won three Super Bowls and was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Although born a century apart, both Martha Cannon and Steve Young had remarkable similarities, such as being pioneering trailblazers in their respective fields, defying all skeptics with their relentless determination and hard work, and even both ending up being advocates for health and wellness. But what really joined them at the hip—and at the soul, for that matter—was, as many would say to this very day, their “foolhardy” faith in Jesus Christ and in a God of miracles who can make impossible things become possible, if we can only believe.¹⁴

It’s my belief that any sincere quest for wisdom, truth, and beauty eventually leads anyone to the One who not only created the world but who also turned it upside down through His—to many of His day—mind-boggling ministry. That, of course, was Jesus Christ and His bold, daring, and innovative message of the preeminence of love of God and of neighbor that to this day still ruffles the entrenched and rankles the status quo,¹⁵ leading skeptics to dismiss believers as mere fools—which might be understandable, given the Savior’s “foolish” teachings such as the notions that the “first shall be last; and the last shall be first,”¹⁶ that one must lose their life in order to find it,¹⁷ or even the upside-down thinking that we should love our enemies instead of hating them.¹⁸

The apostle Paul saw the irony of a world that would dismiss rather than embrace these radical tenets of the gospel when he wrote, “But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him.”¹⁹

This dumbing down of the divine by the opposition is a recurring theme at the heart of every dispensation down to our current day. But it’s especially manifest at two of history’s most seminal events, including Jesus Christ’s ministry and the eventual Restoration of the gospel.

And, as we know, religious leaders, government officials, and many people were all skeptical of the Savior’s message, His mission, and sometimes even His motivations. But what you may not know is that this doubt extended to even Jesus’s closest friends. In the Gospel of Mark we read, “And when his friends heard of it, they went out to lay hold on him: for they said, He is beside himself.”²⁰

Even more astounding is the insight from John with the stunning admission that Jesus’s own siblings discounted Christ’s divine role: “For neither did his brethren believe in him.”²¹

Seeing the irony of the baseless charges and criticism of the Son of God, the apostle Paul wryly observed that, in the eyes of the world, we may indeed be “fools for Christ’s sake.”²²

Paul’s sardonic tone to the Corinthians suggests that being a fool for Christ is the clearest evidence that we are aligned with the wisdom of God. For our purposes today, think of “foolishness” as not just merely a dearth of knowledge but the all-too-common delusion of having knowledge. Thus, if my deep love for Jesus Christ, along with yours, makes us “fools for Christ’s sake,” then this is one time that I urge you from this day on to join me in making complete fools of ourselves!

How do we know on which side of the “fool” quotient we fall? A chief characteristic of the wise is an openness to learning and growth, while an authentic fool is one mired in stagnation brought on by extreme overconfidence and an unwillingness to change.

Evangelizing the pursuit of eternal truth was at the center of the resurrected Christ’s crowning message as He concluded His Old World ministry with this intrepid call to His followers on a mountainside near Galilee:

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:

Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.²³

Consider for just a moment—as the world does today—the audacious nature of that request.

This outsized, nigh-unto-impossible commission to “make disciples of all nations”²⁴ was as preposterous as it was commanding. This little band of eleven men with no money, machinery, or human prestige were told to take on the world. The sheer disparity between the task and the available resources was simply ludicrous.

Yet off they went, steeled in purpose, knowing that their cause was just and true and boldly taking the gospel to Judaea, Samaria, Asia Minor, Greece, Africa, and eventually even Rome, despite facing withering persecution before establishing the Savior’s Church in many parts of the world—all of which makes facing the trials and travails of our day pale in comparison, reminding us that we must never give up or give in to the skeptics and naysayers. As Paul taught, “For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”²⁵

Part of that revealed glory came in the form of a blinding pillar of light that descended on a sacred grove on a spring day in 1820 in answer to a prayer from a young man who had no idea of the “impossible” ahead of him. All of this glory was restored, not through a foolish dreamer but through a truth-seeking farm boy pursuing genuine redemption and revelation. Wrote Joseph of that experience, “It was impossible for a person young as I was . . . to come to any certain conclusion who was right and who was wrong.”²⁶

But even as the long-foretold Restoration dawned, the Prophet Joseph Smith was lampooned and taken to task by myriad skeptics for his revealed and radically perceived teachings on such subjects as the nature of the Godhead, infant baptism, or, maybe even the most radical notion of that era, that “all are alike unto God.”²⁷

Instead of being lauded for the eternal and visionary truths he restored, some dismissed Joseph as delusionary and self-serving. In 1830, a Palmyra newspaper referred to Joseph as a “spindle shanked ignoramus” and “one of the most ridiculous impostures [sic] ever promulgated.”²⁸

Undaunted, Joseph declared other revealed truths at variance with the ex nihilo or “out of nothing”²⁹ creation narrative so widely accepted in his day, even in the face of withering opposition. Joseph said:

Now, I ask all who hear me, why the learned men who are preaching salvation, say that God created the heavens and the earth out of nothing? . . . If you tell them that God made the world out of something, they will call you a fool.³⁰

Undeterred in his grandiose quest to bring light and truth to the world, Joseph Smith, in a teaching very much mirroring the scope of the Great Commission, ambitiously declared, “A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race.”³¹

Even more outlandish was this quixotic declaration made in 1842—a year in which the Church was really in its infancy. Despite all that, Joseph was undeterred in his impossible dream. Proclaimed the Prophet:

The Standard of Truth has been erected; no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing; persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent, till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done.³²

Could some view this as the epitome of impetuousness? Probably. But what cynics didn’t know about were the many years Joseph was refined and tutored by angels and even by the Lord Himself regarding the destiny of God’s great and glorious work.

Rely on God, with Whom “Nothing Shall Be Impossible”

As the final curtain came down for me on that spring afternoon a half-century ago, the daring, higher, and nobler purposes of that production of Man of La Mancha settled very deeply in my soul, which gave me clarity and perspective as I viewed the scary world of my actual teenage years. So, even with a nightmarish, endless war raging in Vietnam, with riots in the streets of Los Angeles and Chicago, and, closer to home, with my own parents mired in a very rancorous divorce, I desperately wanted to find a way to somehow see my world—make that God’s world—the way Don Quixote saw his.

No, not with rose-colored glasses that might obscure, distort, or blind me to the harsh realities and travails of my day, but by simply choosing to see the glass half full and by seeking the possibilities in all things, knowing as Cervantes so beautifully put it, “I have never had the courage to believe in nothing.”³³

A mere four years after that spring afternoon, my circumstances hadn’t changed much, but my focus had because of a sight as stunning as it was simple. So plain and yet so precious, it was grander and more life-changing and really soul-shaping than I could have ever imagined. Only this wasn’t myth or a work of fiction or something on the stage. It was my first glorious glimpse of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. As impossible as it seemed, I soon came to see that it was truer than true.

At the age of seventeen, I embraced not an “impossible” dream but arguably an “improbable” one, given my family situation and circumstances, and I joyfully accepted baptism as I learned the new yet eternally echoing truths of the gospel. As I heard those and learned those, I knew my heart and soul had been prepared and readied to understand and embrace that it is the Atonement of Jesus Christ that truly makes the implausible possible—along with myriad other eternal truths that have blessed my life beyond measure in the nearly half-century journey I’ve experienced since then.

Dear students at BYU, whatever your righteous dreams are, don’t let the myopic views of this world derail you. May we instead channel our inner Quixote or Cannon or Young and be determined to see the best and to then rely on God, with whom “nothing shall be impossible.”³⁴

As you fix your gaze on whatever that glorious vision ahead is for you—however impossible it seems—I hope you’ll remain undeterred. I hope you’ll remember the words of our own dear President Jeffrey R. Holland, who said:

God expects you to have enough faith and determination and enough trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. In fact, He expects you not simply to face the future . . . ; He expects you to embrace and shape the future.³⁵

Please don’t be fooled by what the world claims is most important. It most often glitters and sparkles in irresistible fashion, which can easily distract even the most determined among us. That’s the nefarious nature of what’s called “fool’s gold.” Don’t waste your time tilting at windmills either. Instead, keep your focus on matters within your control and let go of those that shimmer but that are in reality just counterfeit. Refuse “to seek treasure where there is only trash.” And be assured that “whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world.”³⁶

While worldly wisdom would always point to what we can do, “fools for Christ’s sake” understand that it’s more about what He can do. Jesus Christ battled and beat the unbeatable foes—sin and death. He alone shouldered the full weight of our unbearable sorrows. His Atonement righted the heretofore unrightable wrong. Jesus Christ surrendered His life “for the right without question or pause.”³⁷ To Calvary He marched for His “heavenly cause.”³⁸ “And the world [certainly is indeed] better for this, That one man,” the King of kings and Lord of lords, who was whipped, “scorned and covered with scars, Still strove” with what must have surely been His “last ounce of courage,” which now not only allows us but beckons us to reach our sometimes unthinkable stars.³⁹

As you transform your life to more fully embrace this most majestic of all causes, I urge you to become an even more devout fool for Christ’s sake while remaining determined in your quest to see and shape “a world of iron [into] a world of gold.” Of this the Prophet Joseph promised:

It will be but a little season, and all these afflictions will be turned away from us, inasmuch as we are faithful, and are not overcome by these evils. By seeing the blessings of the . . . kingdom increasing and spreading from sea to sea, we shall rejoice that we were not overcome by these foolish things.⁴⁰

In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

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