Jeffrey R. Holland’s death reopens wounds for LGBTQ+ Mormons

Jeffrey R. Holland, a senior apostle of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and one of its most influential leaders, died this weekend at age 85. Over four decades, Holland shaped LDS doctrine, education, and culture, first as president of Brigham Young University and later as a member of the church’s highest governing body, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

But for many in Utah’s LGBTQ+ community, Holland’s death brings up complicated feelings. They remember the harm caused by his rhetoric, especially a 2021 address at BYU that became a flashpoint for queer students, alumni, and advocates.

Speaking at a faculty conference, Holland urged BYU educators to vigorously defend church teachings on sexuality and marriage. What followed drew immediate backlash: a militaristic metaphor that stunned listeners.

“In a way, scholars at BYU and elsewhere are a little bit like the builders of the temple in Nauvoo, who worked with a trowel in one hand and a musket in the other,” Holland said. “I am grateful we have scholars today who can handle, as it were, both trowels and muskets.”

He doubled down minutes later: “Musket fire? Yes, we will always need defenders of the faith,” though he cautioned against “friendly fire.”

The language landed hard. For LGBTQ+ students and alumni, framing doctrinal disagreement in terms of weapons, even metaphorical ones, felt like permission for hostility on a campus where many already felt unsafe.

Holland also criticized a moment that had resonated deeply within queer Mormon spaces: Matt Easton’s 2019 commencement address. Easton, the valedictorian, had come out as gay during his speech. Holland took issue with his decision.

“If a student commandeers a graduation podium intended to represent everyone getting diplomas in order to announce his personal sexual orientation,” Holland asked, “what might another speaker feel free to announce the next year, until eventually anything goes?”

The remarks drew widespread condemnation. LGBTQ+ advocates said Holland had framed queer visibility itself as disruptive. Easton responded publicly, saying current BYU students told him they felt “unsafe and scared” after hearing a senior church leader use violent metaphors while singling out a gay graduate.

Holland occasionally spoke about love and compassion toward LGBTQ+ individuals. But he consistently opposed same-sex marriage and full inclusion, reinforcing teachings that many queer Mormons say contributed to shame, isolation, and fear, especially among youth.

In the years since, portions of Holland’s remarks have quietly been removed from some BYU curriculum materials. But the damage, many say, was already done.

As the LDS Church remembers Holland for his service and devotion, LGBTQ+ Utahns are reckoning with a more complicated legacy — one of institutional power and personal pain. His death marks not just the passing of a church leader but a reminder of the ongoing struggle for dignity, safety, and belonging among queer people in Mormon spaces.