Mormon Women Bare

Hi! It's been a thousand years since I've emblogginated!

But look. What an interesting project. I am particularly intrigued by this statement from the FAQ:

What we are exploring is how a woman views herself and her body after spending the majority of her life, particularly her formative years, in the Church.

As a teenager in the LDS church often enough I found few similarities between myself and the other girls in my cohort, even my closest friends; looking back now, it's a bit easier to feel compassion for the younger woman I was, as well as for my friends, who almost certainly were dealing with the same doubts and fears as I was. We all had the same upbringing, after all. 

I wouldn't say that I am comfortable with my body. Certainly I am not properly appreciative of its health, its strength. It rarely gets bogged down with colds, and it's capable of walking two miles in work shoes. It can chop onions without crying, make love while laughing, dance with only twinges of embarrassment--but what I see in the mirror is a weird nose and flab and knobby knees. How much of that is from soaking in US beauty culture for twenty-six years, and how much of it is leftover confusion and assumptions from various lessons learned in fifteen years of LDS culture? 

"My body is capable of producing children, therefore it should, and since it hasn't, I am not a Real Woman (TM)." No, no, the choice is mine. Really. It is. Really.

"The way that my body is maintained is not attractive to some men, and I should probably change that." No, no, I was not born onto the earth to be attractive to men. Really. Really.

Run-of-the-mill Western kyriarchy dosed with dogma backing up the immutability of sex and the eternal significance of gender roles; a culture that--overtly or covertly, intentionally or accidentally--promotes a certain body and code of attractiveness for female members. I have a new litany now, one I'm conscious of, one that reminds me of all the ways I have found joy in my body. May we continue to rebuild ourselves.

The survivor's prerogative

I saw this article linked recently on Twitter, read it and enjoyed it very much, and kind of intended to write something similar from an LDS perspective.

And then I realized that my list of what not to say to a recovering Mormon would be almost identical. Even the mainstream LDS church has strands of fundamentalism, in its doctrine and its culture. This is not something I realized until I was an adult; in fact, fourteen-year-old Diana piped up indignantly in a history class when the teacher included Mormons in a list of US fundamentalist religious (just one of many reasons why "every member a missionary" is, say it with me, flagrant bullshit). Members in many areas, in Utah and the mission field, are survivors of spiritual and sometimes physical abuse. Many outsiders don't consider the LDS church a Christian institution. The jargon, the doctrine, the peculiarities of Mormonism cause it to stand out in the religious landscape, but in practice and in effect it is damningly similar to other fundamentalist Christian groups.

I don't know about you all, but "fundamentalist" was not a nice descriptor in my household, growing up. After 9/11 I heard my parents use it to refer to Islam. My older sister--never baptized, always political--spoke scornfully of the "Moral Majority" and "religious right" (it wasn't until later that I realized she was in fact including the Church in those phrases). It took some doing to rewire my understanding of the term, to get to the point where I could separate my complex feelings about my upbringing and beliefs from the reality of subtle, institutionalized manipulation. 

All fifteen of those statements linked above have been said to me--some while I was still in the Church, some as I was leaving, some quite recently. None of them are constructive, no matter how much love and insight the speaker intends. One of the most pernicious attitudes I have encountered in the last seven years, from both members and non-members, is a certain carelessness: the idea that leaving X Religion is a relief, something to be shucked with a laugh. Sometimes it was like that and I could joke with people, talk smack and shake my head. Sometimes it felt like the world was ending. My experience is my own, is the point, and it's not going to be the same from day to day, which is the survivor's prerogative.

Framework

The Hairpin and The Toast recently featured posts about Mormonism, the latter written by yours truly. I thought I would say a few words here about why I chose that particular frame for my piece, the twelve steps. Initially, as I was scratching down my memories, I thought it might be amusing to see if some of the major ones matched any of the steps, and lo, they managed to be hammered out that way. But as I refined the piece, I realized that the core of my leaving was really coming into view--that at that time, I would have benefited from any kind of framework to show me the way out. I was flailing, with no one to talk to, no one I knew who had done this and made it and was ok. Not to say that religious belief is an addiction; however I think when it has been part of your life forever, when it has shaped and molded and convinced and guided as firmly as the LDS church had for me, when that changes it is almost on a chemical level. What do you do? With what do you replace the words of the prophet?

That's the whole point, of course, that suddenly there are more options and you're making decisions for yourself. Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom and all that. But navigating them was difficult for me, without some sort of map. A more sincere, more structured Twelve Steps to Leaving the Church would probably include things like "Make a list of people you can talk to about your doubts and decisions" rather than "Make a list of people to avoid." That would be the healthy way. These days, there are plenty of resources online for people having doubts about the church, or starting to make their exit outwards, and I hope that their journeys are smoother, but no less interesting and soul-shaking, than mine has been.

A summation

He had worn a place for himself in some corner of her heart, as a sea shell, always boring against the rock, might do. The making of the place had been her pain. But now the shell was safely in the rock. It was lodged, and ground no longer.

p. 425 of The Once and Future King, T.H. White.

Another half-remembered amusing anecdote from Mormon literature

I heard "Land of Confusion" today in CVS and any time I hear that song, I remember that in Gadiantons and the Silver Sword, Garth disapproves of Jim playing his Genesis tapes because they drive away the Spirit.*

(via Amazon)

No really. I'm 99.9% sure that actually happened in the story. Reason #4,923 to leave the LDS church: secular fiction is so much better. That said, I would be totally up for a snarky reread of all the Tennis Shoes books...except I don't have any of them anymore, and I'm unwilling to spend money on them. If a dear reader out there has a few copies they'd like to unload, I'll pay for postage.

*little-known fact: the character of Garth was based on my stepfather.

A review of a book that doesn't exist

Recently I read Sweethearts by Sara Zarr, for participation in my branch of the Forever YA book club. It was good and I'm looking forward to discussing it with my book club buds, but when I began reading it something about the setting made me wish it was a different book. See, the story is set in Utah, and the main character is not LDS. She mentions this specifically, since it sets her apart from her elementary school classmates, who are nearly all LDS. She's the object of bullying for various reasons--her weight and appearance, her friendship with another strange, bullied kid--and it's indicated that her bullies are Mormon children.

(via Zarr's website)

Ah! thought I. This is going to be really interesting, reading about life in Zion from the perspective of someone who isn't Mormon! Of course the book went in another direction, probably because writing that story would have forced the book into a very specific niche. But I'd like to read that story, very much. My own perspective is that of someone who encountered mild bullying because of being part of a peculiar people; I was the only LDS teen in my high school until junior year. I could never imagine what it was like to be surrounded by church peers, to go to seminary in your high school as a class rather than getting up at the crack of dawn and going to the chapel or to a member's house. And it never occurred to me to wonder what it was like for teens in Utah who weren't part of that community. In the past few years we've been getting memoirs and fiction written by Mormons and former Mormons (can we just call ourselves Formons?). Maybe at some point we will see a few stories written from the other side. Or maybe they already exist--are you aware of any, beyond the lifestyle pieces that pop up occasionally? Is there even a There there? Would you read a novel or short story or memoir about a stranger in the strange land of Utah?

Practical for whom?

As I tweeted last night after reading chanson's Sunday In Outer Blogness round-up, I'm still not really sure if the post in question is joking. Irresistible (Dis)grace gives a further rundown and examination, and I agree with a lot of their points (most pertinently I'm inclined to agree that even if a thing is demonstrably false that doesn't mean it isn't worth believing in [see: Chaos magic, Alan Moore and his snake god, etc...with caveats.] In other words, I don't think the ahistoricity of the Book of Mormon is a good reason to not form a church around it).

However, what I'm really more interested in here is the mere possibility of so-called Mormon atheism. When I left the church there was no inkling in my mind that a person could remain in the church as a non-believer. I'm still not quite sure why anyone would want to, but that's neither here nor there. Everyone is familiar with Mormon culture, from casseroles to The RM, but what about cultural Mormonism? Will there ever be a point where nonbelievers engage with LDS culture as modern cultural Jewish people do with Judaism? I think most of my continuing surprise at this line of thinking is that my Mormonism did not separate culture and doctrine. As I grow older and read more accounts of currently and formerly practicing members, the lie that is correlation becomes more and more baldfaced. The church is not the same everywhere. It probably never will be, for the simple reason that people are people.

Without asking probing questions, I can’t assume any Mormon I talk to even believes in the existence of God or the resurrection of Jesus. Even the Mormons that aren’t closet-atheists are largely latent atheists (or agnostics) without knowing it. Since evangelism, I take it, is partly to engage the conscience and the depth of one’s heart, I want to reach them where they are really at, even if they don’t quite understand what is going on.

What a world to live in! Again, perhaps this was consequence of being a hopelessly naive 19-year-old, but it would not have occurred to me to wonder whether the people around me at church actually believed what they heard from the pulpit and read in the scriptures. "New Order Mormons" weren't a Thing. Personal interpretations of doctrine were only ok as long as they matched up with official ones. The divide between what the brain knew and what it knew it was supposed to believe was an unbridgeable one. And, I will remind you once more, this was less than a decade ago. From where I'm standing, still connected to the church through my parents and still observing through blogs and the news, the LDS at large are not yet far along enough to allow for Mormon atheism.

Guilt vs. shame

The academic interest in shame and other emotions of self-consciousness (guilt, embarrassment) is relatively recent. It’s part of a broader effort on the part of psychologists to think systematically about resilience—which emotions serve us well in the long run, which ones hobble and shrink us. Those who’ve spent a lot of time thinking about guilt, for example, have come to the surprising conclusion that it’s pretty useful and adaptive, because it tends to center on a specific event (I cannot believe I did that) and is therefore narrowly focused enough to be constructive (I will apologize, and I will not do that again). 

Shame, on the other hand, is a much more global, crippling sensation. Those who feel it aren’t energized by it but isolated. They feel unworthy of acceptance and fellowship; they labor under the impression that their awfulness is something to hide. “And this incredibly painful feeling that you’re not lovable or worthy of belonging?” asks Brown. “You’re navigating that feeling every day in high school.”

The above text is from this New York Magazine article--it's specifically about adolescence and the effects of American-style high school on development, but this quotation about guilt versus shame reminds me specifically of what I felt as a teenager in the LDS church. In the past I've referred to feelings of bad behavior or inadequacy as guilt, but it seems that shame is a more proper term, at least as it is used in the article. As I read it, guilt stems from feeling that you've done something wrong, whereas shame stems from feeling that you are wrong--yourself, your being. This is the key to why I felt so strongly that I was a bad Mormon, though my behavior was model, and why reinforcing my "good habits" (scripture study, prayer, magnifying callings, etc.) did nothing to dispel that feeling.

Prophetess, priestess, queen

One of my favorite women-in-culture blogs posted today about Tamora Pierce, Beka Cooper, and the Cult of the Gentle Mother. Go give her post a read if you're unfamiliar with any of these terms (or even if you are; it's a good post). All done? Ok. Reading Deborah's post made me remember something that I always meant to talk about and then never got around to. As I read along with Beka when her books came out, the first mention of the Gentle Mother cult gave me pause, initially because I was excited for this stitching-together, a very good and plausible reason for the lady knights of Tortall to decline and for Alanna to be the fulcrum that she was, but then because it reminded me of the eternal question of women and the priesthood in the LDS church. 

Early in the church's history, women wielded priesthood power--not to the extent of men in terms of baptizing and sealing, but women such as Emma Smith and Eliza R. Snow were recorded as healing sisters and setting apart Relief Society presidencies. Skip to the present, where LDS women have no active priesthood authority. When and why did this gap appear? Mormon women in the past were frontier women, as the church moved from Ohio to Missouri to Illinois and on west to Utah and California; as such they took on more roles than the women in "civilized" areas of the East Coast. For all his flaws, Brigham Young endorsed the women of the church in their goals to obtain education and be self-sufficient, and a number of male LDS authorities blessed women with priesthood power, including Hyrum Smith, Joseph Smith, and Young. Emma Smith, as leader of the first Relief Society, gave blessings to women members, and Eliza Snow in her time as RS President did the same, along with encouraging the sisters to develop themselves spiritually and economically. Snow was also instrumental in shaping considerations of Heavenly Mother, another aspect of LDS doctrine rarely touched today.

Ultimately, the spiritual status of LDS women declined...or was reshaped. According to D. Michael Quinn as excerpted on Mormon Heretic, the temple endowment ceremony still bestows the Melchizedek Priesthood on women. Not having participated, I can't speak as to the exact wording of the ritual or how explicit this might be. The development of the Relief Society may not have been to Joseph Smith's expectations, as the first meeting's minutes indicate that he saw the body as a parallel to the organized men's priesthood. The Relief Society today is neither this parallel nor a strict administrative organization. It is an auxiliary entity, subject to oversight from the bishopric of its ward, and the President does not set apart her counselors or administer healing or other ordinances.  Where exactly the schism happened, I can't say, though in the 1940s Joseph Fielding Smith told Belle Spafford, the Relief Society General President, that church elders administering was the Lord's intention and the Saints' proper mode of action. It does seem clear that as the church grew and refined its practices, much of its early wildness was lost (for better and worse); correlation has done a good deal to weed out, well, heresy. In doing so, women's roles as mothers and wives were emphasized to the point of obstructing and even obliterating other options and pathways. As noted on Mormon Heretic and discussed at length in the Bloggernacle, the priesthood has become synonymous with administrative and leadership power. It is interesting to me that despite not having paid clergy, the LDS church nonetheless has a sharp division between members and leadership, where "members" is in practice "women." Doctrinally, there's no reason why any faithful endowed member should not administer to fellow members, but functionally only male members carry these practices out. Women are not condoned to administer to one another or even to their own spouses and children. It's possible that LDS women are privately blessing their children and themselves, and indeed I hope they are. 

The Cult of the Gentle Mother overtook what had previously been in practice. LDS women had some measure of active spiritual power within the church structure, and it was gradually eroded and changed. The church's culture, traditions, and doctrine have always had a way of becoming inextricably intertwined: now it may simply be a case of enough women pointing to the temple ceremonies and scriptures and saying, It's right here. It's God's teachings. We're doing this. If women in the church today do succeed in their push for change in how the priesthood is wielded, I doubt that it will be a single triumph or one that needs no defending and bolstering. Equality is not something that we get and then keep forever. It can be taken away or altered in a person's lifetime. As women have seen in the (nominally) secular sphere, each step forward is attended by backlash and extremism. 

Note: A good deal of my information here comes from this Sunstone article, written by Linda King Newell. It's an excellent overview of women and the priesthood in the LDS church. I also recommend reading the comments for the Mormon Heretic post linked above; there are some really interesting notes from a member of the Community of Christ. And for more information about the Smiths, priestesshood, and the early Relief Society, check out this fMh post (and this one).

o.O

Being that I have no interest whatsoever in football, it took seeing the link retweeted about fifteen times before I finally clicked through and read this Deadspin story about Manti Te'o.

And then I read it again.

And again. Because what the fuck? What is actually going on here? Notre Dame and the man in question have released statements presenting the whole thing as a hoax perpetrated solely upon Te'o. Rumors abound as to whether Te'o was on the down-low and took the girlfriend-in-Canada bit too far--I sincerely hope this isn't the case, as Te'o is LDS and the fall-out from a) being gay and b) being outed via A TOTALLY FUCKNUTS CRAZY HOAX would most likely be horrible. On the other hand, pulling a dead-girlfriend stunt for publicity and donations is pretty gross and damning.

However this ball bounces, it'll be journalism for the ages. 

Caroling along

Since I grew up in the LDS church (and more to the point, with an LDS chorister mother who is very fond of making the congregation sing the weirder hymns), I wasn't even aware that there's a carol called "The Seven Joys of Mary" until I was an adult. So when I first heard the opening strains of this carol, my immediate thought was, Why is Loreena McKennitt singing "If You Could Hie to Kolob"??

Same music, different lyrics. Pretty carol, though! Enjoy the Loreena rendition. 

The place that cradled me is burning

Normally I am not much for Gawker, but one of my favorite Hairpin writer/commenters, Mallory Ortberg, has begun doing pieces for them, so occasionally I have to venture in (the Gawker commenters, may I say, do not deserve melis even a little bit). Last week she wrote an article entitled "Have You Heard the One About the Religious Woman Who Stops Being Religious In College?"

Obviously that was going to be totally all up in my alleys, and it was--not just the memory of having religion and losing it, or the experience of being let down by authority figures and God, or the tendency to keep the church in the corner of my eye, whether incidentally or intentionally, or the lingering guilt over choosing to read the same SWEU novel for the eighteenth time instead of doing my scripture study. When I was young there was a disconnect between my home life and my church life; people said things from the pulpit and in Sunday school that my mother would never have said. When we were small she let us wear two-piece bathing suits, of all things, and didn't hover over my shoulder when I checked out books with swear words from the library. As I grew older and after my mother remarried a very stringently devout man, the gap closed, church authority and family authority presenting a united front (as I suppose it should have been all along, ideally). I have no idea if I still would have left had my mother continued to be relatively personally liberal, showing me that there was a way to be a good, faithful LDS woman as well as keeping one's own counsel.

This brings me to the crux of Ortberg's piece, what really hit home: the idea, totally foreign to me at age nineteen, that change can happen from within. It honestly never occurred to me to wonder if I, I, could be an instrument of change in the LDS church. That simply wasn't how the church worked. I only knew that I had become aware of the church as a place I could no longer belong. I didn't think about what it would need to be like for me to continue belonging there. Maybe it's no better than saying if my aunt was male she would be my uncle, but as a blogger who reads a good many LDS and ex/post/whatever-LDS blogs, I am seeing inklings of change. I see the women of fMh, I see Joanna Brooks. They're doing something I didn't think could be done. I'm still not sure it can be, or if it's worth it. But it's happening and I am watching, occasionally befuddled, more often proud.

Why be serious when you can make stupid jokes?

I suppose I could write something about the Romney campaign, how Romney has figured in news media and how Mormonism has, and my general ire that such a man is a serious candidate for presidency, but I would rather recount an amusing portion of a popular LDS book.

Everyone has heard of The Work and the Glory, right? If not, all you need to know is that it's a sprawling nine-book epic of historical fiction centering around the development of the LDS church. The storylines range from the earliest inklings of Joseph Smith in New York to the arrival of the Saints in Utah; most of the notable figures from LDS history factor into the plot, which is about the fictional Steed clan as members of the church. Obviously I read these ravenously when I was a teenager, and I suspect that if I read them now, they would likely hold up reasonably well as literature, despite the first six being practically hagiography of Joseph Smith.

ANYWAY. At some point--I think in Season of Joy?--one of the characters, an Irish girl named Kathryn, is struck by lightning. During her recovery, English boy (and later husband) Peter reads to her. One of the things he reads is Robert Browning's play-poem hybrid Pippa Passes. Now Pippa Passes is most famous for its line "God's in his Heaven, all's right with the world!"--an extensively quoted piece of literature--and Peter mentions this line before reading it to Kathryn. However, Pippa Passes also contains one of the greatest authorial misunderstandings in the Western canon: the inclusion of the word "twat" where a twat has no business being (the line in question is "owls and bats, cowls and twats/monks and nuns in a cloister's moods/adjourn to the oak-stump pantry").

Twat.

TWAT.

So yeah, just imagine good little Mormon boy Peter reading the word "twat" to his good little Mormon girl future-wife Kathryn. I have no idea when the cultural ban on swear words occurred in the LDS church, but I do know that "twat" was a dirty word back then as it is now, and it's amusing to consider a gently-bred young woman like Kathryn being like...what did you just say? I have no idea if Lund was aware of this line. Either way it's funny, because I have a twelve-year-old's sense of humor.

Also, mostly unrelated, but I'm a little bit amazed that there is no filthy fanfic for The Work and the Glory. Get on it, writers! So many slash opportunities! So many husband options for Jessica! Lydia hooking up with Joshua on the side! Polygamy! Sorry I'm not sorry.

Last LDS-related post for awhile and I swear there'll be kittens or sex or something FUN soon

In the interest of providing some background and insights into people who manage to be both Christian and polytheist or other brands of pagan, a few links:

Ruby Sara's new blog at Witches and Pagans 

Cat Chapin-Bishop and Peter Bishop, two Quaker Pagans 

Zillah Threadgoode of Surprised Christo-Pagan 

And one that is specifically LDS: Mother Wheel

Not all of these bloggers' paths fit my personal definition of what "Christian" means, but they all share glimpses of spirituality that reaches beyond what we typically consider "Christian" and "pagan," and anyway, that's the beauty of living in a free society, isn't it? Note to conservatives: we are still living in a free society, where people are free to worship according, as it were, to the dictates of their own conscience.

I am actually a little bit scandalized

Still on the Mormon train: what's this I see about the Book of Abraham being removed from official LDS canon? I suppose you could say that until super official word comes down from the General Authorities, nothing doing--but this interview is still a very interesting read. After fifteen years of Mormonism Florida-style, I'm inclined to think that, despite the church's intense efforts at correlation, members in the mission field apparently practice a bit differently from the hub in Utah. Hearing an LDS "expert"--can I read that as "mouthpiece"?--state that some items of doctrine "depend on which Mormon you talk to" is frankly a goggler for me; what church is he part of? Nothing in LDS doctrine is supposed to depend on who you're talking to! That's the whole point of correlation, the much-loved adage that "the Church is the same everywhere."

Basically my reaction to this piece was a lot of gasping. Manfriend became concerned and thought perhaps naked pictures of Idris Elba had surfaced on Tumblr. Alas, nothing so sexy, but it is very strange to contemplate things that I had never considered fringe aspects of LDS doctrine being talked away or denied significance. May I remind you all that I'm only twenty-five? Less than ten years ago the Book of Abraham was part of my seminary classes, eternal progression was a main tenet of the Plan of Salvation, and the Garden of Eden was most definitely located in Missouri--hell, I joked about the latter in a LiveJournal entry dated to 2004: "Then it was time to pack up our dear camp by scenic Troutless Lake and pull out for Zion! I mean, Salt Lake, since Zion was actually behind us, in Missouri, contrary to what Utahns believe."

Trek-related teenage sniping aside, I do wonder how potlucks, dances, and wedding receptions will change now that drinking Coke is ok (seriously, they picked the caffeinated items that are totally terrible for you to OK?). On the one hand, shoving the Book of Abraham to the quaint-and-outdated or esoteric-and-scholarly closet is a long time coming, since it's basically a crock of easily disproven shit, but there's a lot that stems from that book that is very important to the larger church doctrine. Or is it? Who knows? Apparently the LDS Newsroom is now the center of revelation in our techy era. All I can say from my own experience is that if beliefs about the world to come are indeed misconceptions, they are misconceptions held by a good chunk of members. Part of participating in a religion which accepts modern revelation is experiencing and acknowledging changes to lived doctrine, but I don't think I'm wrong in thinking that most Mormons prefer to get their revelation straight from the Prophet in General Conference, rather than the church website on any given weekday.

Those Mormons and their polytheism

Check out this article from The Wild Hunt--interesting, nay? I've never personally encountered anyone who considered the LDS religion to be a polytheistic (and therefore "pagan" and "non-Christian") one, but it comes up occasionally in articles that I read, and always, without fail, I am taken aback. Of course it never occurred to me while I was in the church to wonder if my religion was a polytheistic one, and once I left, I had other things on my mind. But now I have all the time in the world to consider such things! 

So. Are Mormons polytheists? This is not really the kind of thing that I think matters, but lots of other people do. Generally I feel like if Christ figures into your belief system as a personal and/or universal savior, you are probably a Christian, and by this measuring stick, the LDS church is a Christian one. I have more than once explained this to people, but it didn't occur to me until just now to wonder whether those people were implying that Mormons were pagans when they said that they didn't think the church was a Christian institution. Maybe they were! Maybe everyone thinks Mormons are pagans and I'm just really oblivious! I think, being in the church and worshiping as a Mormon, it doesn't cross most members' minds that they might be polytheists. But then, if it does, I also think it doesn't cross their minds that this automatically makes them not Christian.

The problem for me with this whole conversation is that there is apparently one very narrow definition of Christianity. You could argue, as some do, that Catholics are pagans and polytheists for their veneration of Mary and the various saints. The possibility of Heavenly Mother adds to the perception of the LDS as polytheists (if you know enough about the church to know about possible Heavenly Mothers). Indeed there is a good bit about Mormonism and the history of the LDS church that is quite pagan--Joseph Smith utilized what amounts to fortune-telling and divination methods (and one of his and following prophets' titles is "Seer"); temple architecture and ceremonies take many aspects from Freemasonry, with its mysterious origins and pan-religious membership, and the mere existence of sacred (or secret) temple rituals is somewhat analogous to mystery cults; and an entire new mythology is found in the Book of Mormon. Interestingly enough, Lorenzo Snow's couplet "As man now is, God once was; as God now is, man may be" is very close in spirit to the popular pagan adage "as above, so below," generally attributed to Hermes Trismegistus but said by nearly ever major figure in modern Western paganism at some point. Imagine that! We're all cribbing from the same sources, folks. These are not small things. They certainly make the LDS church a peculiar one. But are they enough to cancel out Christ as the centerpiece of the religion?

Not for me. I suppose the commandment "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me" is a pretty clear one (then again, so is "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain," and pretty much ONLY Mormons stick to that one), but then you get into all sorts of arguments about who is speaking: it is God the Father? Is it Jehovah-who-will-be-Christ? Does it matter? If Christ is the same figure as God the Father and God the Holy Ghost, why are they demarcated at all? For Mormons, such questions are even stickier, since LDS dogma indicates that the members of the Godhead are distinct figures, that Jehovah of the Old Testament is Christ, not God the Father, and that God the Father was once a physical human man and is the literal as well as spiritual father of humanity. But does that make Mormons true polytheists? I say ye nay, and here's why--henotheists acknowledge the existence of more than one deity, and active polytheists worship more than one god figure. The LDS church does neither and wouldn't dream of it; you aren't even supposed to be praying to Heavenly Mother in the privacy of your own bedroom. Prayers are without fail addressed to God as "Heavenly Father," and ordinances such as baptism are carried out "in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost" much as other Christian churches' rites are. Practically and functionally speaking, there's no polytheism to see here. Theologically speaking...it's a thicket, man. If you consider the LDS doctrine that all humans who reach the celestial kingdom will eventually become deified, well, that's a very un-Christian idea both in concept and in practice--as far as I know--to think that there are a myriad other worlds with their own Heavenly Parents and Saviors. Mormon theology's greatest sin may be that it wants to have its cake and eat it.

Ultimately, for me, the church's emphasis on Christ as the Savior is enough to make it a Christian institution. That isn't the case for everyone, but I very much abhor the idea that Christians must be monotheists. Basically, to Christians who are concerned that voting for Romney means they won't be voting for a "Christian" I would say: have no fear, he and his running mate share all your bigotries.

REALLY BRAIN?

Normal people have nightmares where they're back in school, sans pants or with a test to take they didn't know about.

Former Mormons have nightmares where they're sitting on the stand in sacrament meeting, about to give a talk that hasn't been prepared.

Talking about it

In the interest of continuing to think about that blasted Hairpin thread/giving myself an ulcer, happy Friday!...having lived on the Internet since I was fourteen and begun unpacking my spiritual knapsack about five years ago, it really seems to me that it's very difficult for people to have a useful discussion about a religion they aren't and have never been part of. 

I don't mean that only people who have directly experienced a religion are the ones who can talk about it.

Or maybe I do. Because really, what useful things do I have to say about Catholicism or Judaism or Islam? All my knowledge of those religions is strictly academic and must ever remain. Any opinion I have about the Catholic church has little to do with personal experience, and religion is all about personal experience. As we can see in the Pin thread, there are people who have poor opinions of the church and its followers, and there are people defending the church and its followers who largely draw from the pool of "all the Mormons I've met are nice people." Yes, it's true, most LDS folk will not tell you to your face that you are going to Outer Darkness--unless you used to be part of the church. Like, those arguments just do not work on apostates. I can say the same thing about Catholics; I have never met a Catholic who told me point-blank that I was a heathen sinner. But my ex-Catholic gentleman heard plenty of that ilk when he was a teenager. What exactly are we trying to prove with these statements of "but all the [blank] I know are nice"? Your lack of experience does not cancel out my lived experience. 

This Pin thread was really disheartening to me. At the most basic level, I was disappointed to see the comments devolve into name-calling. As I said in the previous post, I had a genuine critique of the article, one which was barely mentioned in the comment thread and which, for my money, is the only viable critique (other than maybe you just aren't into cute travel writing, which is pretty valid. I think the market for that is sort of over-saturated, myself). I have no idea how or if the site editors will address yesterday's mess. But I really am beginning to think that I Just Don't Care about your opinions of my former religion unless the conversation is purely academic, as in, Let us discuss how Jewish temples and Mormon temples are similar! or something of the kind. This thread was not academic in the slightest; it could have been, if anyone had been interested in talking about why and how missionary work is problematic, but that didn't happen. This thread was a case in which I just wanted to scream at everyone on both sides of the argument to do their homework before opening their mouths.

...so yeah, I'm pretty glad it's Friday. I need a stiff drink after this week.

No Mormons allowed?

So this was posted on the Hairpin, one of my favorite websites, yesterday. As you can see if you skim the comments, there were some posters who were displeased with the article and others who weren't. Honestly the comments are a pretty big mess and I don't agree with most of the dissenting ones, despite being a bitter apostate. The bulk of the dissenting comments were in the mode of "Mormonism is toxic, we should not have articles about LDS culture/belief here," a few veering into "Mormons should not be writing for the Hairpin, period" territory.


I'm not chill with either of those statements. It might seem, reading Ye Olde Blogge here, that I am angry at the church and by extension anyone involved with it. That's largely true, but it doesn't mean that I'm uninterested in the church and its people. I spend a good chunk of my time online reading LDS-related blogs, and not just the ones written by the disaffected. If I thought there was the skinniest chance that I would never encounter another LDS member or have to hear about the church again, I might be able to just let it all slip away. But having been very devout for fifteen years and with LDS parents and a Mormon running for president, there's just no way. It's always going to be there, tendriling into my life, and trying to force it out completely is more tiresome and less rewarding for me than trying to continue engaging with it in non-toxic ways. For me this means thinking about who I was when I was LDS, considering the aspects of the church that most influenced who I became, considering how the church relates to the world at large, and keeping abreast of news and changes. Because I would like very much to see changes occur in the church. I can't think of a change that would make me want to return to it, but it would give me joy to think that all members could be married in the temple, for instance. If that happens, I want to hear about it and think about it and talk about it. Just because I'm no longer part of the membership doesn't mean I'm no longer affected by its workings. 


I don't often defend the church or its members. Everyone knows nice Mormons,  indeed most Mormons are nice Mormons. But within the context of the article presented, there was an issue for me and that issue is missionary work. I have no good feelings about missionary work, any missionary work. That is my problem with the Hairpin piece; not that it was written by an LDS church member, not that it concerns a facet of the LDS belief system, but that it concerns the imperialist-based act of going into a country with the set goal of converting the inhabitants. Missionary work is not neutral to me. This was why I looked at the article askance, but based on the rest of the comments, there are few interested in presenting a critique that isn't "Mormons are bad, we don't want Mormons here." That's a bullshit criticism and I was glad to see a few commenters say that Hey, I am a Mormon actually and I am allowed to comment here.

I hope that the Pin editors maybe think about inviting a few LDS bloggers to talk about other aspects of church belief and culture which aren't quite so rooted in privilege and colonialism. There are so many interesting Mormon topic blogs, so many conversations going on that are relevant to topics that the Hairpin talks about frequently--gardening and canning and baking, parenting, and of course, feminism. I don't think barring Mormon writers from the website is a good idea, but I also don't think that a missionary travelogue couched (somewhat oddly) in "weight loss tips" is a necessary item.

Part the sixth of an untitled half-satire half-serious short story about LDS teens on Trek

After Relief Society and Priesthood had ended, they were given instructions for solo time. Lissa took her bag, which contained a lunch of oranges, trail mix, and granola bars, a folder of themed material, her scriptures and journal, and a letter from her mother. Everyone dispersed into the woods, trying to find a quiet place to read and study. Lissa chose a tall pine tree with a mound of needles cushioning its base and plopped onto the soil, her back against the tree. She spread out her skirt, feeling picturesque, and opened the folder. It held a few pamphlets and notecards, and instructions to read several scriptures and then the letter from her mother, and finally to write in her journal about the Trek experience. This could all take as long as she wanted—she was to wander back to camp when she felt ready to.

The letter made her cry, harder than she could remember crying in a long while though it seemed that these days she cried all the time. Part of it was a good cry, reading in plain black print how much her mother loved her, but a larger part of it was a horrible, weak, hopeless bawl, dredged up from her shame and guilt and the knowledge that she wasn’t actually the daughter her mother wrote about in the letter. Yes, she got good grades and yes, she attended church faithfully and yes, she fulfilled her calling as Laurel class secretary, but that didn’t make her good. She tried to keep quiet as the tears fell, knowing that someone from Eau Gallie ward was only a few yards away, perched on a log.

The warm familiar world felt like it was crumpling around her, into strange shapes she couldn’t recognize. The hum of cicadas grated on her ears.

Eventually Lissa stood, legs stiff. She gathered up her spread of materials and stuffed them into her bag. She was supposed to head back to camp when she was ready, but she turned toward the empty space of pastureland to the east, carefully skirting around bright spots in the grass which were people studying and praying and, she thought, probably napping. She ducked beneath the rim of barbed wire, lifting her skirt well clear of it, and walked along the treeline. The sun beat down and she swerved into the trees for some shade. Among the pines and oaks and loblolly she slowed, touching branches and vines of kudzu. The forest calmed her nerves, bird chatter lulled her. She walked.

And finally as her path curved back around toward the camp, she walked into Justin. Not literally into him; she saw him some feet ahead and stopped on the path. He was standing under a tree, peering up into its branches. At the sound of her feet on twigs he jumped and turned around.

“Oh, ah—hey, Lissa.” He waved, kind of lamely. Lissa pressed her lips together and lifted a hand.

“Hey.” She made herself walk toward him instead of running like a terrified deer. “Watcha looking at?”

“Oh, there’s some scrub jays up there,” he said, pointing at the tree. “I think. They’re pretty rare now, even back here where there aren’t any people.”

Lissa stopped a safe distance away and looked up into the tree. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any.”

“Too populated, where we live. They're practically extinct.” He shuffled his feet in the leaves. “Hey, are your arms ok?”

Lissa folded her arms, tugging at her sleeves. She wished she’d left them long, but the heat had forced her to roll them up. “Oh yeah, just…some, you know, poison ivy.”

“Oh. Yeah, I got some on me too.” They stood awkwardly for a moment on the path.

“We should probably go back to the camp,” she said at last. He nodded. They began walking, perhaps more slowly than either would have walked by themselves.

“I like you a lot,” Justin said abruptly. Lissa tripped on a tree root and nearly fell; he grabbed her shoulder. Mad tears pricked behind her eyes at his touch, his words.

He continued, avoiding her eyes, “I don’t…I don’t think we did anything wrong.”

She didn’t know what to say. Somewhere inside her brain the right response lurked, but it wouldn’t come to her, she couldn’t remember how things were supposed to go. Sly, poisonous happiness was breaking over her like a wave. She thought that maybe just now she knew what Florence was singing about.

They stood like idiots in the woods. Visible ahead was the clearing where people milled about, preparing for the last bit of hiking toward their end goal, Zion. Justin reached out, grasping Lissa’s hand lightly. She looked at him full in the face for the first time since they’d met by the scrub jay tree. His jaw was tight, dark eyes worried.

She hated that he looked like that. She hated that she knew she had the same expression on her face. What were they afraid of, after all?

The fine hairline cracks in her faith widened. She felt, as she had begun to feel more and more lately, that her belief was a veneer painted over her true self, a varnish of righteousness covering up a soul that did and thought the wrong things no matter how hard it tried. No wonder God wasn’t answering her prayers. She looked at their hands together. She had remembered the proper response.

“I don’t think we did either.”

Their hands firmed around one another and they walked on toward the camp, taking their time.