Mormon Girls–Only One Right Choice?

Mormon girls are raised with the knowledge that their role on earth is to marry a worthy priesthood holder in the temple and provide a happy home for as many children as possible. And I don’t fault that.  Most little girls do grow up hoping to be mothers someday. The problem with Mormon culture is that marriage and motherhood are the only roles toward which girls are directed, and marriage is not a goal over which a person has total control. Nice-looking, intelligent, personable women often fail to attract marriage proposals. And the competition for males in Mormon circles is intense. Mothers-who-know enroll three-year-old daughters in dance because without an early start, adolescent girls don’t make drill team or cheerleader—and the girls who do get the boyfriends.

No alternative to marriage and motherhood is considered for Mormon girls. Girls who haven’t snagged a husband by their mid-20s are counseled to be patient. The possibility that Heavenly Father  might not have a potential mate lined up to take every Mormon girl to the temple is never acknowledged. Girls who fall in love with a non-member face intense family pressure to break it off—no matter what sterling qualities the guy may possess.  After all, didn’t President Joseph F. Smith say he’d rather lay his daughters in their graves as spinsters than to see them marry outside the Church?

Many girls panic in their mid-twenties or even earlier and settle for an eternal companion  less compatible, less intelligent, less capable of earning a living than they’d hoped for. And too few single girls invest in education for what may be a lifelong career. A friend, Passen D’Prime, is typical. A returned missionary in her late 20s, she clung to her BYU ward after graduation, racking up huge credit card debts for clothes, make up, and gym fees. Despite her well-groomed physique, 18 and 19-year-old girls entering the ward each year snatched up the most eligible guys. Preoccupied with dating strategies, Passen missed the opportunity to obtain a doctorate. Still single in her 40s, that doctorate would have opened career opportunities and given her the financial security she lacks.

Well meaning relatives and church leaders often counsel a girl in her late 20s to be less picky, but they never mention alternatives to waiting for that temple-recommend-bearing prince (or frog) to appear. By the time girls reach their 30s, a glimmer of reality pierces the fog of institutionalized thinking. Choosing temple marriage appears to be choosing no marriage—at least no marriage in this life. Faithful single LDS sisters are promised marriage and children in the next life—for what comfort that’s worth.

Marrying outside the church is never suggested to a single LDS woman no matter how slim her chances for temple marriage. Dating non-LDS men is a line most Mormon girls can’t cross—not when they’ve been told their whole lives that marrying anyplace besides the temple courts marital discord in this life and a lesser reward in the next.

I’d like to see Relief Society lessons incorporate Chieko Okasaki’s marriage experience. As a Japanese-American living in Hawaii in the 1940s, Chieko recognized that the limited supply of eligible Mormon men in her area meant she might not marry. She met a non-LDS man with compatible values and the qualities she deemed essential in a husband. Prayer confirmed that God approved her decision. She married—not with the expectation that her husband might someday convert to her church (which he did), but with the knowledge that they would have a good marriage and family life even if he never changed his religion.

 We need to free young LDS women to consider another option: marrying a good man who will be a good husband and father even if he never joins the church.

Trespassing in Priesthood Meeting

Occasionally a member of the bishopric visits Relief Society, but women never violate the male sanctuary of LDS priesthood meetings. Not that there’s anything secretive or even very interesting going on there. It’s just a well-entrenched Mormon tradition. I’d never given much thought about what goes on in priesthood classes, although, from comments made by George and our son Wort, I figured they comprised about the same blend of lessons and friendshipping as Relief Society—minus the tears.

A few years ago I was called to be ward teacher improvement leader. The bishop extended the calling personally, emphasizing the need to make sure pure doctrine was taught in all ward classes. My responsibility was to visit classes and provide support to teachers and auxiliary presidencies both informally and in quarterly inservice meetings.

With normal enthusiasm for a new calling, I contacted the Primary president, discussed her goals and concerns, and made appointments with teachers for class visits. The next month, I contacted the Young Women’s president and visited YW opening exercises and classes. YM was next on my schedule. I contacted the YM president and scheduled a class visit with the Deacon Quorum adviser. When I walked into Priesthood opening exercises and took a seat next to George, all heads turned in my direction. The bishop stared and the counselor who was conducting ignored my presence. It felt kind of like being the only person in town who took the “No Pants Day” prank seriously enough to show up in public sans trousers. Should I have informed the bishop I would be attending priesthood opening exercises when making class visits? In a perverse sort of way, the situation tickled my funny bone. Here I was fulfilling my calling and being perceived as some kind of nut, possibly a threat to the divine order of LDS life. I accompanied the deacons to class and a neighbor asked George, “Does Ann want the priesthood?”

The next Sunday the bishop conducted priesthood opening exercises and made a point of saying, “Welcome Brethren. . .  and Sister Johnson.” He gave no explanation for my visit. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the mystification of his flock. With his own perverse sense of humor, he may have been watching to see if I’d flinch under the floodlight of attention.

After visiting the YM quorums, I visited Relief Society for a month. Then back to Priesthood for the Elders Quorum and High Priests Group. The HP Group leader had been a bishop in a previous ward, knew the church programs well, and responded positively to my request to visit. Some of the gentlemen had figured out the reason for my presence by then, but others gave George a “Can’t you control your wife?” look as I sat beside him. At least no one went to sleep that hour.

The EQ instructor was a personal friend and explained the purpose of my visit . Reb led a wide-ranging discussion more or less on the lesson topic. The difference in EQ and HP discussions was equal to the difference between recess and reading groups in elementary school. Possibly the EQ discussions would have been even livelier without a woman present. As an 18-year-old prospective elder, Wort arrived home from his first EQ class thoroughly disenchanted by the honesty of the good brothers. In discussing family responsibilities, some of the brethren reached the conclusion that divorce was a way for men to give themselves a pay raise. Those remarks sounded similar to some of the gripes against husbands I’ve heard in Relief Society. LDS men and women generally go along with the church definition of gender roles, but that doesn’t mean they are blind to the disadvantages.

The men in our ward eventually got accustomed to my periodic invasion of the third hour of the block. I found I enjoyed EQ and HP classes more than RS because, although the lessons were the same, I hadn’t memorized the men’s responses to every question.  I also liked not having to carry home cutesy handouts to help me remember the lesson.

Date Bait Dad

Adults often object to a widowed parent’s remarriage. But children generally long to have an absent parent, especially a mother, replaced—not realizing the odds of having a stepparent perfectly fill the natural parent’s role are nearly the same as the odds for Santa to stuff a 48”  TV down the chimney.

My dad was really old—in his 30s—when I wanted him to bring home a mother for my brothers and me. Knowing Dad couldn’t manage this on his own, I brainstormed ways to help. If only I’d been placed in Miss Spynster’s 7^th grade core class, Dad could have met my teacher and decided to marry her. Miss Spynster was not attractive, but that shouldn’t matter to Dad; he wasn’t so hot either. I nearly died of embarrassment when a local TV station featured an IGA commercial showing my dad slouching in front of the family store in his grocer’s apron, looking nothing like a television personality.

I never made it into Miss Spynster’s class and passed into eighth grade with no prospects of a single female teacher to match with my dad. The family next door to us had a single daughter in her late twenties, also unattractive, but probably too young for Dad. My matchmaking attempts fizzled.

Sometime that year, my brother, Doogie and I became suspicious that our dad had taken matters into his own hands. Dad started coming home from the store after 10 p.m., showering and leaving. A light blue 1954 Chevrolet picked him up. Shocked that Dad had been able to find a girl friend and horrified that he hadn’t gotten our approval first, we chafed to know the mystery woman’s identity. One day a blue Chevy pulled into our driveway. A head of artificially auburn hair appeared from the car. It belonged to a woman in her early thirties who climbed our back steps with easy familiarly and tapped on the screen door. She held a jar of brown peaches with whole cloves floating around in some kind of syrup. “I brought you a jar of picked peaches I just canned,” she announced without introducing herself. I took the jar and stared at her. Didn’t this woman know pickles are made from cucumbers? As she backed from the driveway, Doogie and I repeated, “Pickled Peaches!” over and over, roaring with laughter. We hated her. What right did Pickled Peaches have dating our father without our consent?

Dad eventually married “Pickled Peaches” with our wholehearted approval. Their marriage ended in divorce after thirty-five years making Dad an eligible bachelor again in his seventies. With his shock of white hair, trim physique and neighborhood status, Dad was a godsend to the local widows. Sister Aved Mannchaser extended her attentions to me as well as to dad. Whenever I attended a funeral or wedding with Dad, Sister Mannchaser rushed up, clutched my hand, and pulled me close for a captive tete-a-tete.  “How are you doing? It’s so good it was to see you. Vard talks about you all the time.” Dad was not deceived about her motives. “Aved is just interested in getting some new drapes and a lot of repairs done to her house. And I’d have to deal with her family if I was dumb enough to marry her.” He hung a sign on his desk: “It’s better to be alone than wish you were.”

Dad lived alone and liked it until his body faltered.  At age eighty-eight he moved into an assisted living center near our home in Cedar City. The ratio of women to men in the facility was four or five to one, and the ladies made a rush on Dad. He joked about the women chasing him and his methods of discouraging them, so I was shocked to barge into his room one day and find him sitting on his bed with an elderly woman. She beamed and exclaimed, “Caught in the act!” Unable to imagine any kind of act two people their age could be caught in, I was at a loss for words. Evva Lufven, the snowy-haired lady friend, had just moved to Cedar City from Las Vegas. Before she left, she gave Dad a big lipsticky smack. Dad beamed while I stared. I couldn’t believe anyone would voluntarily kiss an 88-year-old man on his shriveled lips.

This time I was mature enough to respect Dad’s decision even though I questioned Evva’s judgment. It’s tough to think of a parent having romantic appeal and a sex life. Deep in our hearts, most of us prefer to believe we were created by immaculate conception rather than by an act of passion between our parents.

Mormon Snapshots

Year’s end brings reflection, so I’m adding my list of Mormon memories  to the Bloggernacle.

Snapshot 1:  I entered Mutual the summer after 6^th grade. We moved through the auxiliaries as a group then, rather than by birthdays. Seventh and 8^th graders were Beehives. Mia Maids were 9^th and 10^th graders. The beautiful people, girls at the junior and senior levels of high school, were Jr. Gleaners. The few who remained single following high school graduation were Gleaners. Being with the sophisticated older girls who attended junior high and wore lipstick and bras was a heady experience. But lipstick and bras do not guarantee maturity. Three Mia Maids decided to haze the Primary brats after Mutual one night and my friend Linda and I were chased home with the threat of being “pantsed.” They caught Linda.  I didn’t stick around to see if they’d make good on their threat. They didn’t. Scared the heck out of us, but the Mia Maids had noticed us.

Mutual was on Tuesday nights for every unmarried person in the ward over the age of 12. Opening exercises included singing time with Jr. Gleaners providing the harmony. When I made it to Mia Maid status, Judy, a Gleaner with a car, sometimes took a few of us dragging Center Street after class. Once she even took us to a drive in movie—letting us out to walk inside for a dime before she drove to the ticket booth. Bonding with my Mutual group developed my Mormon identity.

Snapshot 2:  Except for my freshman year of college, I lived at home for my first 22 years. Marrying and moving to the wilderness of Wyoming made me feel as isolated as showing up at our ward meetinghouse on stake conference Sunday. The only person I knew within 400 miles was my husband—and once you marry, you find you don’t know your spouse as well as you thought. When we attended church on Sunday, I entered familiar territory. Everything—the chapel, prayers, songs, sacrament service—nearly indistinguishable from my home ward. Much as I now complain about identical buildings and correlated curriculum, that sameness was a lifeline as I treaded unknown waters.

Snapshot 3:  The only miracles parents really desire involve our children. When Aroo was just over a year, she contracted a serious case of viral croup. Her pediatrician gave her an inhalation treatment which helped, but he cautioned us that the medication was only effective the first 2 or 3 times. He sent us home. She spent the day in a makeshift steam tent, but we had to rush her to the emergency room during the night. We brought her home again, but by nightfall she struggled for breath. At this point, we doubted the efficacy of another inhalation treatment. We called our home teacher who came and gave Aroo a blessing. Before his prayer concluded, her rasping breath eased. She slept peacefully through the night.

Snapshot 4:  Temple sealings are the epitome of Mormon worship. George and I had a civil marriage before being sealed to each other and our children in the Provo Temple. I suspect those who marry in the temple for the first time miss a lot. The temple ceremony is quietly beautiful, but first time brides and grooms are too caught up with the excitement of the wedding and anticipation for the reception and, of course, the wedding night to pay much attention. Making an eternal commitment to be together as a family after 16 years of marriage has a significance missing from couples who don’t yet know what they’re signing up for. Kneeling at the altar, the love we felt for each other, our children, and friends and family who attended was palpable—to everyone except 11-year-old Wort who resisted taking his sister’s hand at the altar.

My album of Mormon memories contains scores of memorable snapshots. Could I have received similar benefits had I grown up in a different religion? I believe so. Friends of other faiths have shared significant spiritual experiences with me—pastors who unexpectedly arrived at a moment of need, “messages” from loved ones who have passed on, healings in answer to prayer. The details and terminology of their church ordinances and customs differ, but the spirituality is the same. Possibly other kinds of organizations provide the same kind of sustenance to non-religious people. Non-believers  seldom share experiences of personal enlightenment, so I don’t really know. I do know that love, compassion and spiritual light are not limited to organized religion. Still, I believe churches are uniquely suited to offer spiritual and emotional support. Caring for others is what religion is all about.

Studying the Old Testament

Since the Old Testament is Gospel Doctrine course of study for 2010, I’m going to recommend my favorite version, The Jewish Study Bible  produced by the Jewish Publication Society using the Tanakh—a direct translation from the Hebrew Masoretic Text into modern English. The Tanakh is a much more authentic translation than the KJV which was translated into English from a Latin translation of the Greek Septuagint.  The Jewish Study Bible contains the best of Jewish scholarship including essays on Jewish interpretation of passages, historical and geographical background, and textual criticism. Maps and diagrams are provided as well as timelines linking world historical events to biblical texts. Footnote explanations of obscure or controversial passages provide necessary clarification.

The first difference a reader will notice about the JSB is the order of books. The Torah, the first five books is the same, but from then on readers who have memorized the order of their non-Jewish Bibles are in trouble. The Torah is followed by the Nevi’im or Prophets, a divided section containing the books from Joshua through Kings (the former prophets) in the first part and the latter prophets (Isaiah through Malachi) in the second half. The third section, the Kethuvim, was canonized last and has the most diversity—apparently every book thought worthy of inclusion which hadn’t already been canonized. The wisdom literature is included along with the historical books, Ruth, Esther, Nehemiah, Ezra, Daniel and Chronicles. The Jewish Bible includes no apocryphal books.

The JSB gave me insights into the Jewish faith as well as a deeper understanding of the OT. One question I’ve entertained for years is: How could Jews read the Messianic passages in Isaiah and not be converted to Christianity? The historical context of those scriptures shows that more than one interpretation is possible. For example, Isaiah 7:14, “Behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” refers to a sign which Isaiah promised King Ahaz in the 7^th century BC. The Jewish interpretation of chapter 7 is that Isaiah is predicting the birth of a child in the near future who would be very young when the Kings of Syria and Israel abandoned their siege of Jerusalem.  Also errors in translation exist—the word translated as “virgin” in English is “almah” in Hebrew and refers only to a young woman of marriageable age regardless of the condition of her hymen.

New translations give intriguing insights into the culture of ancient times. The word “earrings” which the servant of Abraham presented to Rebekah in Gen. 24 is translated as “nose rings,” not only in the Tanakh but other modern translations. It is referenced in a footnote to vs. 47 in the LDS Bible. The image of Mother Rebekah sporting an engagement nose ring or two might endear her to 21^st century young women.

Studying the Tanakh translation in depth brought all kinds of fascinating tidbits to my attention. Genesis 28:20-22, in both the KJV and Tanakh, documents Jacob’s interesting approach to tithing. After fleeing Esau’s wrath following the usurpation of the birthright, Jacob bargains with the Lord. “If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on/ So that I come again to my father’s house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God/ And . . . of all that thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee.” Paying tithes after the blessings seems like more of a sure deal to me. I doubt it will be implemented in the church anytime soon.

For anyone seeking an in-depth understanding of the OT and insight into Jewish biblical thought, $30 for a copy of the JSB is a real bargain.

Favorite Mormon Books

Book lists, like Christmas sales, pop up everywhere this time of year. Inspired by a blogger who had read 24 Mormon titles this year, I decided to write about my favorite Mormon books. My favorite LDS book from 2009—because it’s the only one I read this year—is Mormon Women: Portraits & Conversations which I’ve written about previously. So, my annotated list of memorable Mormon books will come from previous years. Beginning with non-fiction, here are some favorites:

Terry Warner’s Bonds That Make Us Free, written for a non-LDS audience, offers a common sense approach to working out problems in relationships.  He provides insights to the offensive/defensive reactions which we humans often unconsciously fall into. Scenarios from the book worked well as role-playing scripts for my junior high students.  These mini-dramatizations helped them recognize and discuss the dynamics of a person assuming the role of victim in a conflict situation.

Harvard Professor, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, won a Pulitzer for A Midwife’s Tale. Her book, based on the diary of an 18^th century New England woman, illumines the lives of women and their economic contribution to their families and communities in the post-Revolutionary War period. Life was tough in earlier centuries. Learning about living conditions in early Maine puts the privation of Utah pioneer times, which we sometimes like to see as unique, into historical perspective.

 I don’t know how many copies of All God’s Critters Got a Place in the Choir I’ve purchased for gifts. I’ve received many thanks for sharing this collection of columns and correspondence from Laurel Thatcher Ulrich and poet, Emma Lou Thayne. Their writings reveal the personalities and wisdom of two gifted LDS women who do not quite fit the “model Mormon woman” image. In case the Church Curriculum Correlation Committee is reading, it would make a great RS manual.

My son-in-law tipped me off to Hugh Nibley’s Approaching Zion, a very different book from Nibley’s heavily-footnoted volumes linking LDS theology with ancient religions. If I were on the Correlation Committee, I would choose this book for the Gospel Doctrine manual for next year. Nibley makes the case for a Zion community with no rich and no poor. Yes, he’s an idealist, but we need a little idealism to counter the materialism of modern culture. Currently, most Mormons marginalize Joseph Smith’s revelations on the Law of Consecration and Brigham Young’s implementation of the United Order. Nibley reminds us that our earthly existence is not for the purpose of accumulating material possessions.

Sterling McMurrin’s Theological Foundations of the Mormon Religion is not an easy read. But for those interested in how Mormonism differs from the theology of other Christian religions, McMurrin provides  a goldmine of information.

Matters of Conscience: Conversations with Sterling M. McMurrin hit my must-read list once I’d read Theological Foundations. More than a biography, this book reveals the LDS Church transition in the mid-20^th century from a tradition of being more open to philosophical inquiry to the present dogmatic conservatism.

I’m never quite sure whether to place memoir with fiction or non-fiction, so I’ll bridge the gap with two favorites. Juanita Brooks’ Quicksand and Cactus has evocative descriptions of her childhood in Bunkerville, Nevada. As a young widow, Brooks struggles to obtain the education necessary to support herself and child.  She learns of the cover-up of the Mountain Meadows Massacre from a dying neighbor who participated. A devout LDS, Brooks spends years of painstaking research unearthing the facts of the massacre and was surprised and hurt at the negative reception her book received from Church authorities.

One of the books I’ve lent and never received back is Good-bye to Poplar Haven by Ed Geary. It’s out of print now and I don’t remember who has it—but I hope she is enjoying it. Poplar Haven is a collection of stories based on Geary’s childhood in Emery County, Utah. I used the story “The Girl Who Danced with Butch Cassidy” with my 9^th grade English students as part of a unit on Utah authors. One year a parent complained that the story described Mormon boys persecuting an eccentric, elderly non-LDS woman in their town. My principal vindicated me. One can’t have a career in Utah public education and retain illusions that Mormon youth are always paragons of virtue.

I’ve already written about my favorite Mormon novels, The Backslider, Aspen Marooney, and the Giant Joshua. Haven’t tried Todd Robert Peterson’s Rift yet. It may show up on next year’s list of favorites.

Follow the Prophet, Unless . . . .

Last week a provocative blog post listed the following scenarios and asked what faithful Mormons would do if presented with the following situations:

You are on a jury.  The defendant is accused of heinous crimes.  The evidence clearly indicates that he is guilty.  The defendant is Mormon. The prophet comes to you and tells you to vote innocent.  Would you do it?

The Church comes to you and asks for all of your “excess” possessions to pay off the prophet’s personal debts.  Would you do it?

You hear two Mormon men talking about how they tortured two defenseless Muslims traveling though the Uintah National Forest.  Your Bishop tells you to tell no one about it.  The FBI comes to you and asks you if you have heard anything about the murders.  Do you remain quiet?

The prophet declares he has received holy revelation which states that all LDS women must marry at the age of 16.  You have a daughter who is 16.  Do you sign for her to get married?

The prophet tells you that anyone who harms the Mormons is guilty of a sin against God punishable by immediate death.  What do you do?

A new prophet is put in place.  He makes some bold and aggressive statements.  Certain people publicly disagree with him.  One by one, those people meet fatal accidents.  What do you do?

Those scenarios were a bit over the top for modern Mormons to relate to, but we do have other areas which test our faith. Back in the ‘60s, a Democratic friend threatened to leave the Church if Ezra Taft Benson ever became the prophet. She remains an active member. Fortunately, President Benson refrained from extreme political rhetoric once he assumed the mantle of the prophet which probably saved my friend’s membership.

It’s not necessarily bad when a prophet institutes a policy causing Latter-day Saints to do a 180 on their thinking. A lot of latter-day bigots had to change long-held beliefs about racial inferiority following the 1978 revelation on extending priesthood to all races. Even Utah legislator, Chris Buttars, made an about-face from his gay-hating rhetoric this year after the Church issued a statement supporting civil rights for gays and Lesbians.

But none of the above scenarios holds a candle to the test of faith that could rock the Church to its core. What if the prophet asked members to vote for a Democrat?

The Good Old Days

Watching A Christmas Story this week sent me on a nostalgia trip for my own childhood of the ‘40s and ‘50s—the blue collar neighborhood, vacant lots with junked cars, bullies beating kids up with no adult intervention. Those were the good old days. Life was simpler then. I wish my kids could have experienced the simple pleasures of walking to school on tree-shaded sidewalks—not having to breathe bus fumes or dodge scores of cars from mothers dropping their kids off. Instead of Seseme Street, I wish they’d had radio programs that required imagination for visual images.  I wish they’d had the freedom to roam the neighborhood cutting through backyards because everybody knew them and their parents. And if only they could have had the thrill of after-dark night crawler hunts for bait to sell passing fishermen.

Of course life was simpler back in the ‘40s and ‘50s. I was a kid. No bills to pay, no responsibilities. But those days were not simple for my parents. They had to deal with my dad’s military service, with finding housing during the war, with starting a family business after the war. They worried about polio epidemics in the summer and croup and pneumonia in the winter. For them, the “good old days” were the 1920s when they were kids.

I reread some of my dad’s writings last night—he rhapsodized about herding cows each summer and of sledding in front of their house on Center Street each winter. He learned to swim in the Provo River—no lessons in those days—no swim suits or towels either. Grandma washed clothes with a wringer washing machine, but didn’t have the mounds of laundry modern moms process weekly.

Dad thought his kids missed a lot by being born too late. I don’t know about my brothers, but I never envied his childhood. I wouldn’t have exchanged my library card and radio for the thrill of watching cows eat grass. And freedom to play in the street wouldn’t have compensated for living in a neighborhood swarming with flies from the neighbors’ pig pens, chicken coops, and outhouses. My kids probably feel the same way about my tales of the past. I doubt they would have traded TV, more than one bathroom, malls and movie complexes for my bucolic childhood.

And was life really that safe and secure in the past? Every generation seems to believe the world is becoming increasingly evil and dangerous. Possibly people spend too much time reading the Book of Revelation and too little time reading secular history. The world has always been a dangerous place. The good old days exist mostly in memory. Years from now, people in their 20s and 30s may recall their childhood through the rosy filter of time and wish their children could have lived in the simple, secure world of the early 21^st century.

Straddling Two Cultures–Rejected by Both

Non-Mormons tend to love or hate Mormons—kind of the way most people think of licorice—either the pungent flavor adds zest to life or it’s the most revolting substance on the face of the earth. Nothing in-between. The Romney presidential bid perplexed devout Mormons who learned for the first time that many Americans harbor negative opinions about the Church and its members. We’re such nice people and we try so hard to keep God’s commandments and to share our faith with others—how can they not like us? Must be lack of information.  A post from the Mormon bloggernacle encourages LDS college students to submit entries to a short film contest about students’ religious beliefs and practices. We need to get our message out.

 Although I’m not a college student and I have no wish to convert anyone to anything, I like the idea of evaluating my own religious beliefs and the way they affect my life.  I have no plans for making a film, but visualizing some scenes I might include in the saga of my religious practice intrigues me. My film would be unique. I’m not a believing Mormon, but neither am I an angry ex-Mormon.

I’d start my film about the challenges of trying to live in two different cultures with a scene showing me and non-LDS companions at a restaurant. “Do you mind if I have a glass of wine with dinner?” is a question often asked of me. I don’t drink—but not for religious reasons. It’s just that I’ve seen people past college age take up drinking and they generally make fools of themselves. Drinking, like skiing, is apparently a skill best learned at an early age. But people who enjoy an alcoholic drink appear ill at ease when indulging in the presence of a teetotaler. The flip scene is me ordering green tea at a meal with Mormon friends. That beverage clearly sets me on Satan’s side.

Other film scenes would show my social isolation. Until they get to know me, non-LDS acquaintances and colleagues see me as a stereotypical Mormon. The first year I taught in the English Dept. at SUU, I was not invited to a party the women faculty gave. A friend later told me I wasn’t included because they thought I would be uncomfortable with the Lesbian couples there. 

I would enjoy shooting a scene of me discussing politics with non-LDS friends where I feel free to use “damned” to describe politicians.  I’d probably be embarrassed to shoot a scene of me with Mormon friends or relatives who bring up politics. I struggle, not always successfully, to keep the “How can you be so stupid?” look from my face when people I truly like quote Glenn Beck’s wisdom.

I should include a scene of myself attending Sacrament Meeting to keep in touch with my neighbors. You’d see my brow furrow as I mentally debate taking the sacrament when sitting beside a devout member. Will partaking mark me as a cowardly hypocrite? I prefer thinking of myself as a paragon of virtue.  If I don’t partake, my neighbor’s spirituality may suffer as she spends the rest of the service pondering my possible transgressions.

 I guess a fence straddler can’t expect human acceptance when even God prefers hot or cold to lukewarm. If the author of Revelation got it right, I can look forward to being spewed from God’s mouth. (Rev. 3:16) Now that would be a fine climatic scene to my film.

Evolving Mormon Thought on Evolution

Evolution was not a big deal in my Utah education of the 1950s. We studied the ancient geology of Utah in elementary school and learned about rocks and fossils millions of years old. The subject might have come up in seminary, but I spent class time passing notes to friends and pretty much ignored Brother Devowt’s instruction. Somewhere I heard the line, “Science tells you how, religion tells you who” about the creation of the earth and that satisfied me.

When I transferred to BYU from a state college, I noticed that on Day 1 of each science class, the prof gave a prepared spiel about evolution being a useful theory for the study of chemistry, bacteriology, or whatever—but that using the term in class did not mean the instructor lacked faith in God or accepted the theory of evolution as an absolute truth.

I began reading the Improvement Era in the ‘60s and noticed strong anti-evolutionary views. The Era ran articles “proving” the earth was created in 6000 years. It suggested that the deluge at approximately 1800 BC and earthquakes and volcanoes at the time of the crucifixion accounted for the changes that scientists attributed to eons of time. I bought a copy of Joseph Fielding Smith’s Man, His Origin and Destiny. My faith in an apostle of my church and my lack of sophistication at evaluating an author’s relevant credentials caused me to accept everything Smith wrote as truth from God.  I finished the book convinced that all skeletons of prehistoric man were potential Piltdown hoaxes.

Several years later, a recent BYU graduate was giving the obligatory “new move-in” speech in our ward in Renton, Washington and chose to speak on evolution—this was in the day before topics and resources were assigned to speakers. Brother Newcomer outlined the history of the LDS position on evolution—B.H. Roberts vs. Joseph Fielding Smith with David O. McKay in the middle. I was surprised to learn that the only official First Presidency statement on evolution was from Joseph F. Smith’s presidency, affirming Adam as the “primal parent of our race,” but leaving  the question of geological and non-human biological evolution open.

LDS official discourse has been relatively quiet about evolution for many years although that has not prevented members from expounding their own beliefs. A high school student in my Sunday School class once gave an unprompted testimony that even the thought of evolution—of humans descending from apes—made him sick to his stomach. Probably the kid was quoting a seminary teacher since neither parent exhibited much interest in either Church doctrine or science. I left class glad our own kids had skipped seminary frequently. At least their science grades didn’t suffer.

I suspect Church teachings on evolution in most wards have swung to the right in the past decade. The Ensign even reprinted the 1909 First Presidency Statement in 2002.  In science as well as on many social issues, Latter-day Saints seem hell bent on following the evangelical model. A couple of years ago, my visiting teacher informed me that carbon-dating was unreliable science.

The Roman Catholic Church survived Galileo’s discoveries. Latter-day Saints could take a lesson—focus on positives of LDS philosophy without denigrating modern science research that creates paradox. The leadership for this focus, of course, must come from the top. Hopefully, we’ll evolve in that direction.