Outer Lightness » Items by Andrew S

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Items by Andrew S

Main Street Plaza

• 

  Laziness and Desire to Sin

  Posted: August 23rd, 2010, 5:37am EDT by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  One of the big stereotypes about people who leave the church is that anyone who would do such a terrible thing must have done so because they were too lazy to follow God’s commandments or because they just wanted to sin.

  We’ve probably been accused (either explicitly or implicitly) of these (or a variation thereof) charges, and so I bet we all have taken the time to try to explain that that’s not really the case, and that those rationalizations actually ignore, gloss over, and marginalize the real rough spots in church doctrine, practice, and history.

  …but what if the stereotypes are true?

  Bear with me.

  The church claims some nearly 14 million members across the world. But what we know as well is that these statistics hide less palatable details for the church. In many parts of the world, new converts have an abysmal retention rate. Many converts quickly (dis)appear into the void.

  I don’t know what the precise number is, but isn’t it true that some wide margin of the worldwide church is inactive (oh, wait, I mean “less active”)? If you want to fill me in on percentages you’ve heard, please do. I remember feeling a bit shocked when I heard a percentage that was regarded as somewhat reliable.

  I think that we can understand a difference between people who are inactive and people who leave the church. But from an administrative or official perspective, things blur. After all, leaving the church administratively requires formal resignation. But how many of us have sent in the letter? How many of us, for whatever reason, are (dis)inclined from sending in a letter?

  I’m not saying that one should or should not send in a resignation letter, but without one, how does the church tell between an “inactive” member and an ex-member?

  So, we have this wide group of people who don’t attend church and perhaps have not for a substantial length of time, but have not formally resigned. (And we also have people who attend church to keep a family together, but do not believe anything that’s said in the meetings…) I’m willing to venture that the vast majority of this pool of people are not the kind like us to write on MSP (or any other blog), to write on FLAK or some other message board, or to have (dis)tinct grievances with particular aspects of church history, doctrine, or practice.

  As much as it pains me to say (and it is from just anecdotes and personal experience), but I can’t say I know too many people who are ex-mormons. I do know many people who are inactive, and who stopped going because they didn’t want to invest the time and because they were engaged in some sin they couldn’t reconcile with the prying eyes peering from the pews.

  Perhaps we should come to terms with the fact that of a peculiar minority, we are ourselves a peculiar minority?

  But then, what next? What does this mean, what should we care about it?

• 

  Do people leave the church for greener grass?

  Posted: July 9th, 2010, 8:33pm EDT by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  

  I was just reading a fascinating new post at Times & Seasons — Wanted: Greener Grass.

  I won’t lie; part of what amused me was the link to a study of children’s drawings that captured their preconceived notions of what kind of person a scientist is (with implications as to the gender stereotypes harbored by boys and girls and how mutable those stereotypes are after experience with actual scientists.)

  But that wasn’t all. Of course, Dane’s own article was interesting because of its hypothesis about (some of) those who leave the church and its comparison and contrast of the respective ideological “pastures” or “lawns” of groups quite ideologically distinct from the church.

  (As an aside, one thing I appreciated about Dane’s article is that he admits early: whatever his hypotheses about why he thinks some people might leave the church, he doesn’t know why. I think this kind of humility is commendable [and good for both sides of the fence].)

  Structurally, Dane’s article is concise. Why might people leave? To get to greener grass. What can we do with that? Analyze whether the grass within the LDS church really is all that brown and patchy, or whether the grass outside of the LDS church is far richer or greener in comparison. Conclusion? The second part (at least) is not the case, because interestingly enough, we can find some of the same points of discomfort (poor attitudes regarding intellectuals, gays, women, artists, etc.,) within groups that are drastically different from the church (like  the communist Chinese government). A human problem, not a Mormon problem.

  I think that there are plenty of examples that do show stunning insensitivity, intolerance, or oppression outside of the church, so without going too far deeper into the nuances and plausible objections, I might be willing to concede that point.

  However, I haven’t addressed the first part of the question. Just because the grass on the other side isn’t all that greener, does that mean all the grass is green? Or can’t all the grass be brown and patchy? I guess our mileage will vary here, but I suppose that the people who have issues regarding race, the precarious treatment of intellectuals, feminists, and gay people, and so on in the church also see and have issues with those same things elsewhere in the world. I imagine that if they are not direct activists for change within the church, then they are activists for change somewhere else or in some other fashion.

  …but here’s the clincher that I don’t think is addressed. With the church, we have an entity that claims divine revelation, inspired leadership, a plan of salvation and happiness, and the fulness of the Gospel. For the church to be “on par” with the rest of the world — which we are led to believe is wayward, sinful, in need of our message — this is not comforting or easy to square away.

  I know that for me, it was tough to try to align doctrinal expectations of a grand creation, a caring force within the universe, the true path via divine revelation and the restored Gospel, and so forth, with a creation that apparently was not all that grand, a universe that apparently was uncaring — if not hostile — and a pathway of revelation that apparently was just as mundane and laden with misdirection as everyone else’s supposedly false or misguided paths.

  So, leaving wasn’t so much about finding greener grass, but in realizing that there wasn’t much difference in the grasses at all.

  I know people say: “The church is true, but the people are not,” but it seems to me that the only way I can interface and interact with the church is through people. Corporations may be legal persons according to the Supreme Court, but I suspect that if the entire C-suite, the entire board of directors, the entire group of shareholders, and all other people jumped ship, the corporation would not survive.

  When people have suggested that I (or anyone else) lighten up on the church…that I take it less seriously…that I stop expecting so much from it…I point out that I am doing that. By not accepting the church as the source of grand and ultimate truth. Understanding that the church is like any other human enterprise is refreshing not because it reveals greener grass elsewhere, but because it offers a way out of our panic from seeing that the church’s grass isn’t all that green.

  (And I’ll note that none of this even *touches* other pressing questions, such as the historicity of various scriptures and whatnot.)

• 

  Knowledge, Community, and Relationships

  Posted: July 2nd, 2010, 1:53pm EDT by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  Over at the faithful Mormon blog Faith-Promoting Rumor is a discussion enticingly titled “Do Relationships Make the Church True and False?”

  This post is a short enough one that you should just go over there and read it, but I guess I will still highlight some points here…when I was reading it, I will say that one idea I was apprehensive about finding was the idea of trying to bottle ex-Mormons as those people who leave because “they’ve been offended.” Or maybe “the church is true but the people aren’t.”

  I personally think that my apprehensions were unfounded…I didn’t get that vibe from reading the article. Instead, I got a much different vibe.

  (First of all, I think that the paper about exit narratives to which TT refers is Seth Payne’s; it can be found here. The Mormon Expression podcast [to which you all should listen!] interviewed Seth over his study here.)

  But getting back to vibes…the vibe I got was a tentative search into a new and drastically different understanding of truth than many of us might want to speak about (and which a commenter seems to introduce as well.)

  Here is part of the final paragraph of the article, for example:

  In this theory, knowledge has a sociology, a context which makes certain ways of knowing and understanding possible. Truth only appears to be such based on the understanding that is made possible within a given situation. The kinds of truths that one can accept (or not) is determined not by some objective set of “facts,” but by the conditions in one’s life that make that truth possible (or not). In this view, knowledge and truth are historically contingent and socially determined, at least at the level of “meaning” (hopefully that satisfies the analytic philosophers).

  This is in light of what TT had written before:

  When people discover something and leave, it is more the feeling of lonliness and betrayal inside the church than the discovery itself. The shared experiences are often found with others who’ve felt similarly alone and betrayed. Finding a community with whom one can relate inside the church helps to reestablish the sense of trust for other members helps many who have been shaken. When people stay, it is often the community of the saints which makes the experience of testimony possible.

  I think there are a few critiques that might be made of TT’s article. The first might be a criticism that tries to argue that truth is about facts, and so we oughtn’t escape the facts. Commenter Heather seems to evoke something of this kind of argument. To her, the betrayal of the church is not the betrayal of the ward community (and so people cannot be cajoled into being a part of something they feel has betrayed them simply because they have good rapport with the congregation.)

  I may be getting Heather’s argument incorrect, but the idea here seems to be that the betrayal of the church is something that relates to objective facts (e.g., the church has lied about its history, about its truth claims, or whatever else), so this betrayal supersedes anything else.

  The first response I could think about giving would come from my understanding of TT’s own words. I think that the language relating to knowledge that is currently popular (and that emphasizes objectivity) is historically contingent and socially determined. I think that writers such as Philip Kenneson have had their say on the idea of objective truth (namely, to point out that it doesn’t exist, and this is a good thing too.) While I think this is a good article to read as well (and can provide some insight into even the idea of objectivity being contingent on a certain zeitgeist), I note that this one is a bit longer, so perhaps you should get to it when you have some more time?

  The heart of the response could accuse both ways. Why are we to believe that the reason to be a member is because it is objectively true? (Because if defending the objective truth of the church fails, then why shouldn’t someone like Heather leave?) In actuality, shouldn’t the church be trying to give reasons for non-members and doubting members to give (or continue to give) the church a hearing? Shouldn’t the church be striving to achieve moral authority (if they can) first, to show why we should care first? (In this way, it’s easy to see why the church has emphasized objective truth claims first. Most people have been shown to care about the authority of objective truth claims from things like science. But such can be a double-edged sword, obviously.)

  A second argument, that I think Heather’s point also hints at, is that the community can be supporting, so it isn’t even true that those who leave only because of an unsupporting community.

  I think, though, that this can be addressed by showing that most communities aren’t exactly supporting in the way they need to be. For example, support can’t just be having friendly faithful members who continue to remain nice and accepting. Support also must include trying to find a way to alleviate the loneliness and alienation that may come from finding out unsavory aspects of the church’s history and/or doctrine, and in working together to work with an individual through and past it. To mourn with those who mourn.

  Perhaps this is implausible for much at the church at this time…because I suspect that one thing that would need to happen is for people to be able to feel comfortable being in the church even with unorthodox beliefs or practices. Can a ward support an unbelieving member who does not agree with church policies toward homosexuals? Can an unbelieving member ever be comfortable in airing these view out…or even in airing views that aren’t politically conservative (as many wards’ politically conservative members apparently are)? Should the church even strive for a community like this? (I could imagine there would be people who would say this isn’t a goal worth seeking…)

  It seems to me that only when the question on disaffected members’ minds…the one that they desperately scramble for answers to…shifts away from “Why should I stay?” or “How could I stay?” to “Why should I leave?” or “How could I leave?” will we know that there is that kind of support.

• 

  Third Culture Kids and our Disaffected Mormon Underground

  Posted: February 26th, 2010, 3:29am EST by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  A while back, there was a husband-wife couple of speakers who came to one of my classes to talk about their mission to Papua New Guinea for several years. I wrote about that on my blog a while back, highlighting one of the things they said about their children that particularly struck me.

  These children grow up to be Third Culture Kids, and there is a phenomenon of these Third Culture Kids from a variety of upbringings. What these Third Culture Kids must realize is that they do not belong. And they never will. They must learn to accept that they can’t be American, but they can’t be Gapapaiwa. They have to be something in the middle. Many Third Culture Kids, in fact, end up marrying others, because even if the particulars of their situations vary, they understand the phenomenon and each other

  This is a kinda loose paraphrase, but I’m pretty sure the mother said the exact words, “they do not belong. And they never will.” That struck me. I checked out the wikipedia page on Third Culture Kids here, and although I fit one of the traditional categories (army brat), what I felt was that as an ex-Mormon, I feel this way too.

  I think that for people who have really become involved in the church (whether as converts or as lifelong members), it becomes a part of our identity. This identity already faces some challenge from a mainstream society that doesn’t understand (or at worst, dislikes) it (good ole Mormon persecution complex). But the strangest thing is…even when/if we leave the church or disassociate from it, we don’t become part of the mainstream. Rather, we never become non-Mormons, but ex/post/former/new order/alumni Mormons.

  Does anyone else feel this way? I’d like to think this is a pretty common feeling here, but it could just be a me thing.

  Anyway, I had a commenter who posted on my site who was the daughter of an international businessman, and as such lived all across the world before “coming home” to the states.

  She has been trying to find out the cultural aspects of Mormonism for a while now…but she has unfortunately been asking the wrong people: (missionaries). I actually like how she puts the outcome (which most of us could have predicted): Sadly, I was never able to get much good information out of them, b/c it always devolved into a theological pitch-fest.

  Anyway, she posted a request on her site seeking information about cultural Mormonism. ( here )

  If any of you have time, could you put down some thoughts over at her blog?

• 

  What’s in a Mormon identity?

  Posted: August 27th, 2009, 9:55pm EDT by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  I’m certain that this has been discussed over and over in numerous ways and in numerous formats on the internet…but…what do you think your identity is relating to Mormonism and what do you think that identity signifies?

  For example, we each know that there’s Further Light and Knowledge (FLAK), and New Order Mormonism (NOM), and also Recovery from Mormonism (RfM). Furthermore, we know that there’s a different character to each of these sites, so even if we can’t put our finger on it and articulate, we can say, for example, that we feel more at home at FLAK than at NOM or RfM.

  But what does this state about our identities with respect to Mormonism? I guess with NOM, it’s relatively easy — you are new order Mormon. Some of us would bristle…we’re definitely ex-Mormons, not just New order or liberal. But then some would note that although they are not active, they still are on the rolls…so technically, they are still members. Does that mean they must simply be inactive?

  Not to mention…even in terms that should imply the same action (leaving the church), there are different shades of this. What’s the difference between an ex-mormon and a post-mormon, other than the fact that there’s an Exmormon Foundation (not to be confused with RfM, whose address is exmormon.org…) but there’s also postmormon.org? Would it be fair to say that the various titlings only fit for people who are principally part of the related community (that is, you can only be “post” Mormon if you go to postmormon.org? Does postmormon.org decide what it is to be postmormon as opposed to new order mormon, which is in its own domain?)?

  I don’t think that’s quite right. I think, intuitively, that anyone can be postmormon — it’s not just for members of a site. Yet, perhaps postmormon does have a different “idea” behind exmormon. And even DAMU — disaffected Mormon underground — has another connotation…one that might not seem to fit.

  To me, ex-mormon seems like an identity for someone who has formally separated from the church. So, even though I have broken my own informal rule plenty of times, it seems a bit…incorrect…to use ex-mormon in the context of someone who hasn’t resigned or been axed (er…ex’d).

  Disaffected Mormon underground sounds like I’m still grieving/ranting/conspiring/downtrodden…it actually seems like my ‘impression’ of RfM…

  Postmormon sounds great (a better “brand” than DAMU or ex-), but it also sounds a bit off. A postmormon seems to me to define someone who has moved past Mormonism in such a way that it doesn’t define him in any meaningful way except that, as a matter of record, the person once was a part of the LDS church.

  So, while the term sounds nice, I don’t quite think I fit…after all, I admit Mormonism is still my culture. I simply recognize that this culture is not equivalent to the church institution.

  Cultural Mormon sounds good, but I wonder if it stresses enough of nonbelief and nonpractice or not. For example, our favorite guy, John Dehlin, often emphasizes a motif in his works: despite flaws, troubling points, controversies, etc., Mormonism is his tribe or culture. He seems to fit the “cultural Mormon” label better, but he’s quite a bit more of a believer than I am (although, admittedly, not as much of a believer as the orthodox TBM.)

  Not only this, but not only can identities mark where we are now…they can be aspirations to where we want to be. So, even if I’m not postmormon (based on the sound of the term, not the site), if I wanted my end goal to be separation from the entirety of Mormonism, then perhaps I could still justify the identity. My problem is that I don’t think that’s the path I want to go. It seems to be gutting a part of me to renounce Mormonism, even if it seems silly to others for me to cling to the word, seeing as I don’t believe in the church or its beliefs. So, my identity feels hodge-podge and intensely individualistic — not ex- enough to be ex-mormon, not disaffected enough to be DAMU, not post enough to be postmormon, but certainly not believing in any liberal/new order/true believing sense of the word.

• 

  The Boiled Seed and Honesty

  Posted: August 7th, 2009, 8:31pm EDT by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  

  Get your green thumbs ready!

  A while back, I heard a rather innocuous story about honesty at stake conference (ok, so it’s not as prestigious as general conference…). I didn’t care much about the choice of story he used, since it seemed trite (it was some Chinese feel-good fable), but as I read a passage in the scriptures today (and realized I had been misinterpreting it for a while now), I realized a whole new realm of meaning. One that may interest you.

  The story, to summarize (the story I heard is slightly different than the one I linked, so go with my summary) is that a Chinese emperor, lacking any male heirs (I suppose you could anachronistically substitute for a Empress Dowager if you like gender equality), is trying to choose a successor. He gives a challenge to the most talented young men of the nation: to raise a single seed which he will give them. After all, if you can’t raise a plant, you can’t raise a nation, can you? Chinese wisdom.

  So, each of the young men (including our star, Chang [the name changes every retelling, so don't get too attached]) goes home to try their best at cultivating the seed. They research best practices for growing, fertilizing, maximizing sunlight and controlling climate.

  But our star, Chang, can’t grow his seed, no matter what he does.

  The competition ends, and Chang reluctantly heads for the palace with his seed — still just a seed.

  At the palace, everyone (but Chang) shows the Emperor their magnificent flowers and plants, and the Emperor inquires about their methods, their diligence, and their plants. What was most challenging? And then he gets to Chang.

  He demands to know this plant-less boy’s name, and Chang reluctantly gives it. He asks where Chang’s plant is, and Chang admits that he doesn’t have one.

  The emperor says, “Very well,” and announces to all that he has found the successor: Chang. The Emperor reveals that he had given every one of them a boiled, dead seed, yet all but Chang had connived and lied in an attempt to gain glory. Only Chang had integrity.

  (In the version of the story I heard, Chang doesn’t know the seed is boiled — so he despairs that his failure to grow it is his failure. I like this better, and you’ll see why.)

  So…pop quiz: what scripture was I reading?

  If you can’t guess, it was Alma 32. In it is the famous comparison of the Word to a seed (note: that song lied to me! although you can find faith-seed action in Matthew, but that’s a bit different.) Therein, Alma says (I’m quoting Timothy Wilson’s Plain English Reference to the Book of Mormon to be edgy and modern):

  “Let us compare the word to a seed. If you make a place to plant a seed in your heart, and if the seed is good, or true, and if you do not discard it by your unbelief, or by resisting the Lord’s Spirit, then it will begin to grow. And when you feel it growing in your heart, you say to yourself, ‘The seed (word) must be good, because it is starting to enlarge my soul. It is beginning to enlighten my understanding and satisfy my soul.’

  …As the seed continues to grow and sprout, bringing joy into your heart, you feel that it is good, and that feeling strengthens your faith even more. After having these feelings, are you sure that the seed is good? Yes, you are, for only a good seed would grow. If a seed does not grow, it is not good, and you throw it out.”

  The first realization from a proper reading of Alma (even with the conventional BoM) is that faith isn’t the seed…but rather faith is the willingness to plant the seed. Alma theoretically allows for the conclusion that the seed could be bad, and you’d throw it out, but he asserts boldly two things 1) the seed will grow if you don’t screw it up (song) and 2) the feelings you have can assure you of the goodness.

  …at least in the version of the story I heard, Chang didn’t know the seed was boiled…so he continued diligently trying to grow what could not. How many times do members (including ourselves) in the church (or in any endeavor) do this? How many times do we look elsewhere to rationalize that the seed must be good and growing, so that we can continue?

  And intriguingly, if there is an emperor out there who has given us boiled seeds, will he praise those who were “creative” and tried to pass off frauded plants or will he praise those who have integrity to face doubts head on?

• 

  How Mormon values gave me courage to leave

  Posted: July 3rd, 2009, 9:55am EDT by Andrew S

  Tags:    [edit]

  I have thought of my “exit” story as boring. Boring, but different. Rather than a narrative of the Once-Happy-TBM who unwittingly came across a troublesome theological or historical issue and lamented as it gobbled a once easy faith, my story has from early on featured something amiss…but what I’ve thought to be amiss was something about me.

  And so, my story was not finding some troubling history or troubling scripture. Even when younger, I looked at odd parts of history or scripture with incredulity. Instead, my story was discovering that I didn’t have to beat myself up for my doubting nature. And until I looked carefully, I had failed to realize that it was the church that had given me values that enabled me to take a step away.

  How could I come to realize the church’s goodness and truth? Years ago, I began to feel the source of my faithlessness was complacency. It was complacency since I had lived a good life with good parents. Since I was one of the 13 million individuals on the face of the earth who was born with knowledge of the gospel.

  So, I needed to be humbled. If only the Lord would provide reformative adversity.

  I needed a trial of faith. Ether 12: 6 clarified.

  6 And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world that ^afaith is things which are ^bhoped for and ^cnot seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no ^dwitness until after the ^etrial of your faith.

  I could receive no witness until after the trial of my faith…and so, it was obvious why I lacked amazing spiritual experiences: no trials of faith.

  Feeling defective, I welcomed subjugation to the worst trials in life. From the experience of the worst things in life, I would either perish to weakness or become renewed through faith.

  I became obsessed with such a concept…in the back of my mind, I planned to postpone university and go to some third-world country. I’d beckon the world to come at me. If I were mugged or killed…so be it. But I could hope that God would never give me a trial I could not handle.

  On Easter a few years back (I don’t remember the year, but it certainly was Easter Sunday), I had a conversation with my father about this. He was in the Young Men’s Presidency, so he taught my third-hour class (for Priests, I believe)…none of the other young men were there that day (which wasn’t surprising…these guys were often truant), so it was just my father and I.

  I shared my ideas and plans with him about how I should be struck down that I may experience the worst things in life in a trial of faith.

  I thought my father would be proud of my maturity…but he denounced my ideas as destructive and silly. He told me something that pacified me for a time: “If you know that evil exists…and it is obvious, then do you need to experience it to learn good exists? Good is the opposite of evil, so if evil is obvious, good is subtle.” So what if I couldn’t find reason to believe in God? God did not operate like the adversary and give reasons.

  I saw some of the older guys (once as unrepentant as my quorum) repent and serve missions. When they came back home…they were reformed.

  So my gears began to turn…missions were the trial of faith that I should’ve focused on! My father had denounced my plans for good cause — I had been like Naaman, still proud and desirous of a great task to complete despite desperation.

  I didn’t tell my father (I wanted it to be a surprise), but I prayed…I came to the conclusion that while I was on this spiritual high, I should speak with the Bishop, insisting that when it came time, he should make me fill out the mission papers no matter what. I had to do it now before I developed doubts.

  …yet…I never made the contract. I asked others — was a mission a good place to develop faith?

  I thought the others would be proud of my maturity…but they denounced my ideas as destructive and selfish. And they told me, “A mission is not for the missionary. It is for someone truly converted to the Gospel who wants to place God before himself.”

  I was crushed. I realized I couldn’t, in good faith, go on a mission. Sure, I could pass every technical question of worthiness better than most of my peers did, but they could just repent and become fit to serve. I could not even believe.

  I went off to university and put things aside. I remembered things I had read about agency and choice, and began to see things, especially Helaman 14:30 and words from Joseph B. Wirthlin, in different contexts.

  You are free to choose (see 2 Ne. 2:27) and are permitted to act (see 2 Ne. 10:23; Hel. 14:30), but you are not free to choose the consequences. With absolute certainty, choices of good and right lead to happiness and peace, while choices of sin and evil eventually lead to unhappiness, sorrow, and misery.

  I wondered. If I was racking myself to unhappiness and misery over lack of testimony, what if I stopped? I could keep my lifestyle but stop worrying about belief. I could recognize I do not believe. And if things soured, I’d have my trial. But if things turned for the better, then I’d know my choice was good and right, and I’d have happiness and peace.

  And with that, I had courage to leave. At first, I was simply willing to accept whatever ill consequences that came (even eternal ones), but soon I realized that not even temporal ill consequences were forthcoming.

• 

  Calling all ex-mormons: the Great Mormon Novel?

  Posted: June 18th, 2009, 6:09am EDT by Andrew S

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  So, I’ve been reading a series of articles about the possibility of the Great Mormon Novel (the great fantasy of all Mormons since Chaim Potok came to the Jewish scene or since we all fell in love with that dairyman Tevye and his daughter)…some say that the Great Mormon Novel hasn’t happened because it is impossible. Others, perhaps very hopefully, disagree. (Also, A Motley Vision’s response and T&S’s summary). And since I know Chanson is very interested in ex-Mormon literature (she’s even gotten her own) and even has theories about Mormon literature , that got me thinking.

  Actually, it was a quote from both articles I had read…as Wallace Stegner told Jerry Johnston of Mormon Times:

  “…the “Great Mormon Novel” would eventually be penned by someone who was born in the church, left the church, then made it “part way” back again. [Stegner] seemed to think that would be a perfect vantage point. Being away from the church would give the writer perspective, while coming part way back would guarantee his empathy for the culture.”

  So, you can predict what I’m going to ask…

  How about it guys? Which one of you is willing to go partway back to pen the Great Mormon novel? After all, you’ve heard it…the task is solely on us. The field is white already to harvest, yadda yadda. And fame and fortune and $$$ await us if we can actually do it.

  This brings up the curious ultimate disagreement between Jerry of Mormon Times and Dallas at This Mormon Life…Jerry asserts there can be no Great Mormon novel because:

  “A true LDS writer would not want to be on the outside looking in. He wouldn’t want to be defiant.

  He’d want to promote the faith.”

  Oops. So perhaps we are all prematurely disqualified. It gets better…

  Without the blessing of the church, it would never really be a Mormon novel — anymore than “Angels in America” is a Mormon play.

  So, truly, Provo or SLC or wherever the authoritative theological and cultural center of the church is must be on deck before you can have a Mormon play. Perhaps there is no hope for a Great Mormon Novel under these stifling constraints.

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  Let’s present scriptures for our edification

  Posted: June 8th, 2009, 11:42pm EDT by Andrew S

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  I’m going to ask you to do something. Something you may not have done in a long time. Pull out a set of scriptures, wherever you can find them, and search for a scripture.

  This is my clever way of getting people to confront the scriptures. But don’t think I’ve gone off the deep end and become a prosylyter. Rather, I want you to find a scripture that has some kind of idea or precept or concept that — as far as you can tell — when it is taken in the proper context is rather disagreeable to you. And then, present why or why not.

  So, I think we all can do this. I don’t think it would necessarily be difficult for us. And as I ponder this experiment, I wonder which one I’m going to choose. Picking out Old Testament instances of God’s seemingly spastic morality seems like a low blow to me, so I avoid those things. And I avoid as well scriptures that I don’t feel I have a full grasp on — obviously, if my beef with a scripture is do to a misunderstanding on my part, then that’s no good.

  But I think I have one. I’d like you all to turn to Alma 32.

  Alma 32 has a famous (at least, in my mind) analogy of faith to a seed…If we look at Alma 32:28, for example…

  Now, we will compare the word unto a ^aseed. Now, if ye give place, that a ^bseed may be planted in your ^cheart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your ^dunbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to ^eenlighten my ^funderstanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.

  So far, so good. This provides a challenge, and one that seems reasonable. Perhaps someone tells me that if I rub the tummy of a frog three times counter-clockwise, then a light will turn on. I might be incredulous at first, and I might not even be willing to try. After all, it just doesn’t seem intuitive that rubbing the tummy of a frog three times would turn on a light. Faith as a seed would be willing to put aside my unbelief and skepticism for one second and be willing to attempt this experiment.

  And it seems later that Alma 32:32 provides us a reasonable out:

  Therefore, if a seed groweth it is good, but if it groweth not, behold it is not good, therefore it is cast away.

  So, if I rub the tummy three times and a light indeed turns on (gotcha! That frog was a mechanical frog that is charged through static electricity, but you just couldn’t tell!)…then this seems akin to the seed growing. If the frog does not turn on, then I should be able to cast out that idea. Fool me once, shame on you…

  So far, so good.

  But this is a set of scripture I do not like…why?

  It’s what is said later on.

  36 Behold I say unto you, Nay; neither must ye lay aside your faith, for ye have only exercised your faith to plant the seed that ye might try the experiment to know if the seed was good.

  37 And behold, as the tree beginneth to grow, ye will say: Let us nourish it with great care, that it may get root, that it may grow up, and bring forth fruit unto us. And now behold, if ye nourish it with much care it will get root, and grow up, and bring forth fruit.

  38 But if ye ^aneglect the tree, and take no thought for its nourishment, behold it will not get any root; and when the heat of the sun cometh and scorcheth it, because it hath no root it withers away, and ye pluck it up and cast it out.

  39 Now, this is not because the seed was not good, neither is it because the fruit thereof would not be desirable; but it is because your ^aground is ^bbarren, and ye will not nourish the tree, therefore ye cannot have the fruit thereof.

  40 And thus, if ye will not nourish the word, looking forward with an eye of faith to the fruit thereof, ye can never pluck of the fruit of the ^atree of life.

  Err…so from here we see a divergence between testing things in the real world and testing spiritual precepts. Spiritual precepts, we are led to believe, only work if you continue to believe. And in fact, they may appear not to work. Because this scripture combines frequently with admonitions to “endure to the end.” If you aren’t getting a spiritual experience, then you just need to be more patient! You just need to endure to the end! Etc., All of a sudden, you are stripped from your logical alternative: to go somewhere else. Your failings are yours, not the doctrine’s.

  Not to mention, this kind of scriptural procedure has disturbing implications. You could redirect it to anything. For example, couldn’t you direct it to another faith? So what if Catholicism doesn’t appear to be working for you…maybe you just need to continue in faith. Maybe you need to endure to the end.

  See, there is a distinction between real-world thinking and this kind of scriptural thinking. In the real world, we rely on results. So, if the thrice rub doesn’t give us a particular result, we start changing variables. Not only that, but in the real world, things that are true or things that have causal relationship do so regardless of our state. If there truly is an electrical mechanism in the frog, then it should operate regardless of if we are incredulous about the thrice rubbing. Yet the scriptures hit us with a one-two punch…it won’t work unless we believe, and even if we believe, it still might not work, because we are being tested until the end.

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  Wait a minute; those aren’t my morals!

  Posted: June 2nd, 2009, 1:05pm EDT by Andrew S

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  The other day, I wrote on my blog about how I continue to find that even as intellectually and ideologically, I’m moving farther (bad typo; I wish I could move my father past the church) past the church, I realize from a practical standpoint, I’ve still got a lot of Mormonism in me yet. But I mean, I was not too concerned about a lot of it…after all, just because you don’t believe in the spiritual underpinnings of Mormonism doesn’t mean you somehow immediately become a dramatically different person. Mormonism doesn’t have the market cornered on abstinence, being an embarrassingly sheltered and naive prude, and tee-totalism.

  So, I’ve wanted to say that it’s just a part of my unique cultural Mormonism. I can’t escape that I was raised LDS and that is a part of my culture.

  But…as Kuri called me out on…and as I called myself on just a few moments after publishing the post…I seem to be paying way too much deference to Mormon frameworks of virtue and morality. What is up with that? I find myself looking at some of the things I said as if I were cleaning up my room, finding some strange underwear. Wait a minute…those aren’t my boxer-briefs!

  Kuri had said:

  I think you have deeply absorbed Mormon values. It’s pretty clear that you consider not having sex, not drinking, and not using drugs to be “virtuous choices” on your part rather than considering them, say, risks you don’t want to take or morally neutral actions that you simply aren’t interested in pursuing. It’s interesting how much a part of you that “worldview” is even though you don’t believe in the religious aspects.

  And I was conflicted. No, I do not believe all of these things to be “virtuous” choices or “moral” choices, because I don’t believe in that moral framework anymore (and, to be honest, when I was a member, I didn’t really take that moral framework). But where I’m conflicted specifically is that I must admit that yes, I’ve been caught red-handed using the language that would be conducive to such thoughts. I am using the language of acquiescence to Mormon moral normativity.

  I’ve been trying to get past this, too. But it’s a struggle too…as I tried to write my original article, I wanted to be careful to distance myself from the language I was using. So, I used rather awkward phrases…the “appearance” of virtue. What a faithful member might see as virtuous. So, I tried to distance it away from myself and instead to the community I came from.

  Because, quite frankly…I don’t think I’m more moral or virtuous for not drinking or doing all of those things. And I don’t think others are immoral or unvirtuous for doing those things. Instead, my point was that I recognize that to others, I must appear rather virtuous or moral (ex: to my parents or to people from my ward, who despite their displeasure with knowing I don’t believe would have to recognize that I’m pretty “clean”.) I think it’s because moral wrongs demand a certain outrage…and pine for retribution to make things better…but I do not have such an outrage or pining for such retribution.

  Rather, at this point, I think I view it in terms of a kind of prudence…With imprudent actions, you aren’t outraged…rather, imprudent actions bring about a harm to the self that makes one think, “That was stupid and silly. I ought not to do that.” One possibly takes pity on someone who commits an imprudent action, but one wouldn’t want to bring more harm (in the form of retribution) onto someone who has been imprudent, because they have already harmed themselves.

  And I think I’ve done, in many cases…a great job of viewing things less in terms of Mormon morality/immorality (I’m crafting a post on amoralism and moral error theory for one of these days) and more in terms of prudence/imprudence. For example, we had a go around about baptism for the dead. And one of the things this got me seeing is the difference…for me, baptisms for the dead simply seem rather imprudent for Mormons to do, and I think I phrased that: to me, at best, I feel like they are doing something silly that harms the self (because it is a waste of time)…but others would take a different stance, noting there is moral outrage at the idea because of a harm to others (disrespect for the dead’s beliefs).

  And even when I do see things in terms of morality/immorality, it is distinctly of a non-Mormon flavor. Outrage for me is for people who are against marriage equality. But I can’t say I got that from Mormon upbringing when the church is precisely one of those offending groups.

  So…I dunno…I guess I got rambly again…but the thing I’m trying to say is…I’m rather conflicted. Even as I think I’m out, I find strange parts that are back in. Yet, it’s not like I’m so entrenched in Mormonism and Mormon values. It is an enigma.

  Do you ever have similar issues sometimes?

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  Why do we act?

  Posted: May 7th, 2009, 3:52am EDT by Andrew S

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  When we were members of the church, we knew very acutely how many rules and laws and words of wisdom and commandments we had to follow. Why did we keep up with it then…and why do we do what we do now? What motivates us to act?

  For the past few weeks, I have been doing a lot of recruiting and networking events. I’m not even going to lie — even in such a poor economy, I’m living quite well as multiple accounting firms try to convince me to intern for their firm. So, included with that are all kinds of fringe benefits — plenty of events and activities and dinners and mixers and whatnot.

  And I dunno…maybe it’s a Texas thing…but many times at these various events, they’ll only have two drinks available — tea and water. And even at one, they only had one drink available: tea. I don’t know what happened to the water.

  So, I guess this is no big deal for everyone else and I’m putting a magnifying glass on something that is really quite trivial to everyone else, but occasionally, I have been asked why I won’t touch my glass.

  “I don’t drink tea.”

  Well, ok…but why not? This is Texas, after all! (I’ve had someone say that).

  In a previous life, it would have been so easy to say, “Because of my religion.” But, I realize this is a copout answer (and not even a true copout answer for me). I mean, certainly people would understand if it was against your religion…but seriously, is that it?

  Personally, I had tea once (actually, a few times, just to confirm)…it was disgusting (maybe that’s the sin I’ve been hiding all along that destroyed faith!). But that’s also a copout answer (because there are many things I have not tried [which coincidentally also fit in the word of wisdom], so I couldn’t necessarily use that excuse).

  But it seems to me…that we should be acting not because our religion restrains us (which is what the answer, “Because of my religion” so often sounds like), but because we personally are motivated not to do certain things and are motivated to do other things. I can say even now…I am not motivated to drink, so I do not. I’ve seen others succumb to the peer pressure, but maybe I’m a robot and immune to it. Whatever the case is, if I don’t want to do something, I’m not going to do it*. (Unfortunately for my bishop and parents, I suppose, this also applies to the church or parental requests.) *But perhaps the whole point of peer pressure is that group pressure can change your very wants.

  And I guess that’s how I’ve changed since then. The difference since leaving the church has been that I am more flexible with my motivations and demotivations. I don’t have to feel bad or guilty for wanting something that was bad just because the church said it was so.

  So, what’s been more interesting of a question to me is…how do we want to do certain things, and learn to want to not do other things? It’s easy to realize that “we act because we are motivated to act in certain ways.” And it’s also easy to recognize that, with free will, we can choose to act against our natural motivations (although the jury is out on whether this is a net positive in all cases). But this just backs the question up one step, and now we have to wonder about what motivates us and how we can change these motivations.

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  The reason ‘Eastern Mormons’ leave Utah: we love the attention.

  Posted: April 22nd, 2009, 11:01pm EDT by Andrew S

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  I stumbled upon this smaller blog that was talking about “Cultural” Mormons.

  …I’ve noticed the strangest phenomenon. Many people view cultural Mormonism as the extra-doctrinal, hyper-faithful parts of the church that make it seem so unbearable, rather than the mere culture of growing up in such a peculiar church. So cultural Mormonism, rather than being an superset that includes faithful and nonfaithful people of Mormon ‘heritage,’ is seen as a subset created by the insulation of Utah Mormonism. And I guess I can understand the cultural excesses of Utah that would make people think that.

  I decided to comment on this guy’s blog, being cautious not to show my hand too early (things tend to go downhill if people realize you’re not a believer.) And we talked about a great many things…but most interesting was his theory about “Eastern Mormons.”

  Way back in the late 1600’s, several Quaker religious zealots kept coming back into the Puritan colony of Massachusetts. The Puritans kept kicking them out. They would go to Rhode Island for awhile and then they would come back. The Puritans warned them if they came back again they would be hanged. They did, and were hanged. (One of them the first woman to be hanged in America.) Why did they do this? They were perfectly free to practice their religion in Rhode Island and Massachusetts isn’t particularly more attractive then there.

  My contention is that there is an attraction for some people for being persecuted. Earlier I stated that the more “enjoyable” Mormons in Washington, D.C. were the ones that loved living in Utah AND loved living in the East. The less enjoyable Mormons were the ones that enjoyed the East more because of the chances they had to defend their religion—much like those Quakers in Massachusetts. They love to contend. They loved to stick their noses in the air and show how caring they are by being among the “sinners” and remaining above it all. To be a shining beacon on a hill for the purpose of exalting themselves.

  More after the break.

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  LDS deconversion is a process

  Posted: April 8th, 2009, 10:15pm EDT by Andrew S

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  I was reading this news article the other day, and it just seemed so obvious. It was a study that found that LDS conversion is a process. What made it seem so obvious to me was that as the article went on, it seemed clear that the writer was speaking of conversion as a socialization process…and socialization is nothing ground-shattering. It happens in every social institution. So it seems strange, actually, that something that is normally considered quite religious, spiritual, and mystical as conversion can be described in human, quotidian terms. (Well, I guess it’s only strange if you expect conversion to be a divine smack in the face.)

  I wrote about this article on my blog, and I tried playing with the article to see how true this could be for other groups…and one group I found it particularly fit for was the opposite of the LDS convert — the LDS deconvert.

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  What can repair the church’s race relations?

  Posted: March 15th, 2009, 1:16pm EDT by Andrew S

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  I guess that is the ultimate question of today’s post.

  On Mormon Matters, Mormon Heretic (the Mormon part’s the dominant side of that name, btw) wrote a post trying to discuss positive black history in the church. And I guess, stinker that I am, I just had to approach the issue with skeptical comments.

  See, the way MH approached the article just seemed like something I experience often in my life which annoys me. I’m not saying that MH is doing this, but I’ve heard people say things like, “I’m not racist; I’ll let you know I have 3 black friends…”

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  What was the straw that broke your belief’s back?

  Posted: March 6th, 2009, 1:44pm EST by Andrew S

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  I’ve been reading an article at Mormon Matters about More Open Mormon History, and it seems to me there is a fundamental idea at play here: if you hear about “true Mormon history,” you’ll lose all hope and faith and then apostasize. OMG!

  The author, Mormon Heretic, tries to deflect this claim. He posits that people should learn about true Mormon history upfront and that it won’t lead to more apostasizing — this original assertion is baseless. Instead, those who know more about Mormon history tend to be more active and those who know less are actually less active (but this study that he refers to hasn’t been parsed in the topic).

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  A reminder to be positive and upbeat, especially with members

  Posted: March 2nd, 2009, 4:08am EST by Andrew S

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  When I left the church, I found that more things made sense to me. I didn’t have to start rationalizing things to make it fit in with doctrine, and I could just believe in the world based on how I saw and experienced it. So, I’d definitely say that when I left the church, I didn’t have to many healing wounds. I can speak about the church without getting too worked up over most issues.

  …But Ex-Mormons in general don’t seem to have such a good image. I have written about my latest escapades across the blogging world on my blog, this time with a smaller blog run by kittywaymo. And in a blog entry at Mormon Matters, I’ve inquired about what commenters there would expect of Ex-Mormons (if, hypothetically, they were asked about the church). Anyway, I guess she had some conclusions about Ex-Mormons that I just couldn’t shake (and to admit, after a while I recognized it was better to leave sooner rather than later.) Here are a few:

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  Every exmember a missionary.

  Posted: February 20th, 2009, 9:40pm EST by Andrew S

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  These days, I don’t talk religion that much with people offline that much, and even when I do, I keep my religion/lack thereof cloudy until someone asks outright (it’s amazing how many people will talk and talk presuming you’re Christian and never ask you if you feel otherwise…but maybe that’s just because I go to school in Texas.)

  Anyway, I had a story about telling people I’m Mormon recently…it was interesting, because while I was comfortable saying, “Yeah, I’m Mormon” (and if it came up, I’d be just as comfortable saying, “Yeah, I’m atheist.”) I intuitively expected and realized I’d have to do damage control. The first damage control: so what kind of Mormon am I? Of course, I pointed out that I’m a nonbelieving Mormon, and so asking me if I believe (x weird belief of the church) is fruitless.

  But…at the same time, I felt I was in a unique position. When I considered myself a member, I mean, I still didn’t really believe it, but I felt obligated to speak party lines about the gospel and theology. Now, I realized that I didn’t feel constrained. I felt I was ok to raise some controversy or spice to my answers…but it wasn’t enough. See…what I also felt was that even though I felt like I could speak my mind, I felt strangely protective of the church. I know I don’t want to be one of those antis who use terrible lies to try to smear the church (I mean seriously, if all you have are lies…give up. I happen to think that there is a lot of factual positions about the church that can be found unpalatable)…but even if I’m not an anti-, I recognized that I should treat the church differently with nonmembers than I would with members. Chanson wrote about it when she had a Southern Baptist roommate, and this exactly what I mean. You can’t make fun of my family — only I can do that!

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  The church: not spiritual enough?

  Posted: February 12th, 2009, 11:27am EST by Andrew S

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  So, when I was checking through the list of scheduled posts at Mormon Matters, I was excited because I saw a post about the “Role of the Church in the Pursuit of Righteousness: Why it works for some and not for others.” And oh boy, I was so excited, because it was a topic that was about those for whom the church doesn’t necessarily work out…and of course, Ray’s generally fair in all of his posts — he reminds me somehow of my tax professor. This guy is so nice, a student can say the most wrong answer in class and yet he’ll never embarrass a student by bringing so much attention to the wrong answer, yet somehow he’ll have fixed every misunderstanding.

  I’m not going to say I was disappointed, because it was still a good post when I read what it actually was about. Still insightful, and still fair. But I still think it was directed at a different crowd. It didn’t really capture why the church didn’t work for me, for example. This post and a few others seem to have these preconceptions, I want to say, that exmormons ’should’ still be religious or spiritual. So the idea is, “If somehow I found out the church were untrue, I’d still find another religion” and people scramble to wonder why some exmormons are comfortable going on their own paths.

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  So, are you enjoying your exmormon despair and unhappiness yet?

  Posted: February 1st, 2009, 12:06am EST by Andrew S

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  So, I recently had a fun escapade in the comments at a post at Feminist Mormon Housewives. It was a post from a guestposter, Jon, on whether or not the church might be a hostile place. Who ever could have thought of that?!

  …I’m still freshly reeling about the “hostile” horror stories thanks to the church that I’ve read recently here at MSP. The one joy I can find from so much pain in Jill’s story is that fortunately, she was able to leave and move on with her life. Yet, some aren’t able…

  Well, back to FMH…I guess I didn’t know what to expect from Jon, but he came out early on with the punches swinging. (CAVEAT: It certainly seems that the Jon who wrote the post is different than the Jon who has written the comments…but I can’t check IPs at FMH.) A particular comment he had made, likening atheists to murders, piqued my interest:

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  Narratives and the Golden Rule

  Posted: January 27th, 2009, 8:45pm EST by Andrew S

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  I was doubtful as to whether to complete this, since I guess things have kinda blown over in recent times, and perhaps we may not even need this message. But something I read recently made me want to write about it all over again…

  You may have seen our great Wall of Text discussion recently in a recent article I wrote here, but you know, I think there was enough stuff in the comments between Bruce, Chanson, and me alone (so I can’t really recommend reading through all of them unless you have time…it might be considered torture in some states) to merit another full-blown article.

  We quickly got into how the way we see things (particularly about the church) is guided by our own narratives. Our narratives are of course, incomplete, and sometimes formed on split second reactions (for example, our moral foundations) in a way that may make us think they are natural, normal, and perhaps unbiased. They aren’t necessarily objective (and sometimes, even when we recognize our bias, we can’t correct for these things because we’d be biased in our own bias correction…) But Bruce at Mormon Matters has already written about the idea of narratives and narrative fallacies several times, and I *do* recommend reading through those if you have the time…definitely not torture at all. (In fact, even if your gut disagrees with them and thinks they are torturous, read them anyway because that disagreement is the quickest way to understand narrative fallacy.)

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  Moral Foundations: Why we may not see eye to eye with the faithful

  Posted: January 19th, 2009, 7:44am EST by Andrew S

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  During my most recent tour around the interwebs, I found an interesting idea that Jonathan Haidt, a social psychologist at the University of Virginia, has been working on. The idea is a new way of looking at the foundations of morality than the old economic idea of humans being rationally self-motivated or the traditional moralities that suggest morality is just a way to treat others (with emphasis on caring for others, on fairness or on rights). Instead, Haidt proposes that there are actually five foundations of morality, and while generally, the liberal and/or secular focus on two of these — care/harm and fairness/reciprocity — conservative and/or religious thinkers may value three other aspects as moral too — ingroup/loyalty, authority/respect, and purity/sanctity. He’s written and linked a bit of his research on various parts of his page, and I’ve just begun combing through and trying to put my say on things at my blog.

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  On the church’s uniqueness

  Posted: January 15th, 2009, 10:30pm EST by Andrew S

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  …Sometimes, these blog entries just take too much time to set up…anyway, I was reading Mormon Matters and getting into the discussion there, and Bruce had said something that I found intriguing:

  …John Dehlin suggested that it was a mistake for modern Mormons to down play what he calls “19th century doctrines” (as he interprets this, this means teachings about how Jesus was conceived, locations of the garden of Eden, belief in a large geography model for Lamanites, belief in 19th century views of the universe, etc.) He believed this is part of what makes Mormons “special.” (his word )I had a similar conversation with John Hamer that was almost exactly the same via an email exchange.

  Interestingly, neither of these gentleman believe in any of those doctrines personally. They also are ardent critics of some/many current Church teachings, anything from being “the one true Church” to the Church’s stance against gay marriage.

  I guess I was left with the impression that they were selective in what they felt Mormons should emphasize and what Mormons should give up. Old disproven teachings that have no modern value were looked upon positively, core theology like “one true church” not so much.

  Later in the conversation, it came to pass that perhaps it wasn’t John Dehlin or John Hamer who had said or believed these things (or perhaps once they had, but now they had a more complex view). Well, that part bored me and I didn’t want to bore you, so I didn’t link to those comments. Aren’t I so nice?

  But I didn’t think the ideas of the above quote were all that outlandish. I kinda like the aspects of the church’s unique doctrine in a kind of love/hate relationship.

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  Ever feel like you’re being talked to behind your back..?

  Posted: January 10th, 2009, 4:56am EST by Andrew S

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  Of course one can always adopt a personal creed and receive some of the benefits, but the full benefits are impossible for most people (maybe even all people?) to have without believing the truth claims as part of a community.It’s possible for a rejectionist community to crop up that exists on the margins that rejects the truth claims of a religion, of course (as we see here all the time.) They can exist forever harvesting people that fall out of the main religion and they can build a community around their common rejection. But they, in reality, can only exist so long as the original religion exists for them to reject since that is the main thing they have in common and the only thing they can really build a community around. They are not an independent religion and they owe much — nearly all — to the religion they reject.

  This is a lovely gem from a comment Bruce Nielson made at Mormon Matters.

  I didn’t want to focus so much on that (but I’ll get to it) — I just found it was an interesting comment…really, earlier in the discussion was another comment by Arthur that I wanted to capitalize on:

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  Deprogramming

  Posted: January 5th, 2009, 3:33am EST by Andrew S

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  When I read a lot of ex-mormon accounts, some of them turn me off. I know there’s ill will and perhaps downright hostility to an entity you feel has essentially lied to for years of your life, but I’ve always felt that it would be counterintuitive to react so hostilely. Life’s hard enough as it is; you don’t want to cry anymore.

  I’ve seen those who will say that religion — or at least the LDS church — is “brainwashing.” I don’t have any training in what the clinical definitions of brainwashing are, but this just seems like one such term that, when used, closes the doors of conversation. How are you supposed to talk to someone when you think they are brainwashed? (On other hand, how are you supposed to talk to someone when they think your very perspective is borne of sin? I guess this goes both ways.)

  So, I guess I just wouldn’t use such strong language. I tend to waver in my position — sometimes, I say, “As long as they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them,” but other times, I feel like I have to say something…if only to defend or protect someone from getting hurt. Sometimes, I want to talk about what I believe are reality, so I don’t censor myself. Other times, I don’t care if anyone makes his own reality.

  I can recognize, if I won’t call it something as strong as “brainwashing,” that we do face programming.

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  Argumentative

  Posted: December 25th, 2008, 8:43pm EST by Andrew S

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  Over the joyous holiday season, I’ve had time to think about some less-than-joyous things.

  I hate getting into arguments. It makes my heart sink to get into yet another argument. Some days, I just don’t want to check the blogs I read because I fear that there will be a comment in response to me, and I know that if there is, it could be another rebuttal I’ll have to counter. I know my emotions will spiral downward for some period of time that I can’t get back.

  I hate getting into arguments, but crazily enough, that doesn’t stop me from jumping into them. Perhaps that’s my first fault? I can’t stand to feel misunderstood or marginalized, so I keep trying to press my view point until there’s understanding and agreement. At the same time, I know that I’m just falling into a trap I’ve set for myself…I know that all that will happen over the course of the argument is that I’ll be ruining friendships and boiling emotions, and I’ll leave the discussion just a bit more marginalized than I entered…

  I don’t require agreement, but I think in an ideal world, opinions wouldn’t always butt heads and put us into a situations where one threatens another. So I always wonder, when I meet someone different if they will be the kind of person to provoke a disagreement of beliefs– or if I will provoke this disagreement. I wonder if I have to prepare myself for a future war of words.

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  Following or Pioneering

  Posted: December 19th, 2008, 9:10pm EST by Andrew S

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  Whenever I talk with my father, I get a rush of feelings. I feel somewhat embarrassed because of his unorthodox beliefs and exploits. At the same time, I feel somewhat grateful that he’s not orthodox (I can’t say I would prefer him to be a standard ho-hum Mormon instead of the weird chimera of synchretic mysticism and science fiction with LDS foundation.) I feel scared because I wonder if that kind of susceptible or trusting nature is something I might develop like a genetically predisposed syndrome. But I also feel a sense of awe because I know he genuinely feels something out of it all — as do billions of believers in whatever belief worldwide inevitably feel out of each and every one of their faiths.

  I am perplexed though, by something he says…he claims to be worried for those who leave faith or spirituality. Those who rationalize the mystical. He doesn’t follow any orthodox view (and his views probably wouldn’t fly in any Sacrament meeting), but he insists that nonbelief and unbelief are weaknesses of personal character. Those who don’t believe in the church (or in anything — he is a critic of atheism above most other things) are simply following worldly trends. They are too insecure, he says, to pioneer in their own spirituality.

  It makes conversation with my father difficult, even though I know that we have a good relationship. When people talk about “bad parents,” I know I don’t have bad parents. I know (and appreciate) that I don’t face the familial implosions many ex-members face. And at the same time, I feel that I have to prove myself. I have to prove to him and others that I am not devolving into sin; I am not devolving into relativism that makes me prey to any deception. I am my own person and I am strong. Just because I don’t believe in the Mormon spiritual framework (or in any such framework) doesn’t make me a slave of “worldliness.”

  I was gravedigging By Common Consent and looking at a rather early article (or at least, early in the archives). I don’t even know if this entry itself was particularly insightful with respect to what *I* took from it, but I started thinking about why I left the church.

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  Where are you going?

  Posted: December 12th, 2008, 9:14pm EST by Andrew S

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  Everyone’s talked about this idea of people leaving the church but not leaving it alone. And you can see, depending on which end of faith you stand, different outlooks at the issue. Some might think that it’s petty for people who no longer believe (or who never believed) to put so much time and energy speaking out against what they don’t believe. And just as many others would say that precisely because they have spent so much time in the church, it’s not something one can just “drop.”

  I’ve written about this issue on my main blog (especially since I think there is a unique aspect about the *culture* of the church that charges people to it — with fierce loyalty or fierce disloyalty…so for my writing’s sake, I better hope I don’t “leave it alone”); Chanson’s written about it (and actually a few times) — in fact if you want a basic overview of Chanson’s comprehensive (and one that I agree with, which makes my life easier because it means *I* don’t have to write it out again) outlook on the issue, check out this…blogography…from Ray Agostini. Even the Bloggernacle blog Mormon Matters has written an entry about it.

  Even though I’ve linked all those links and would appreciate if you read them, the truth is I didn’t want to bring up just that perspective. It has been discussed so much that we already are accustomed to its flavor.

  What I wonder is if we are not at a dead end. When I read the faithful members’ classifications of the ex/cultural/New Order/Disaffected community as being rabid, irrational, or even anti, I know that isn’t true. But at the same time, I must acknowledge that just as there is breadth and belief diversity in the church (however much the church may not like it), there too is breadth and diversity in Outer Blogness. So I can find those who are venting (no offense to Recovery from Mormonism — because I can see many of those individuals’ points as well), and those who would say that the only purpose of Outer Blogness is to be grounds for venting. My issue: venting is a reflection and lamentation of the past…it is very poor analysis of where we are now and a poorer compass to tell us where we should go.

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  Scripture Fights and Bible Bashing

  Posted: December 7th, 2008, 9:25am EST by Andrew S

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  One of the fun things about watching people try to argue religion *from an outside perspective* is that you can see the low blows people will make without feeling personally hurt anymore. Non-Mormon Christians will often point to the doubtful historicity of the Book of Mormon and then say, “Aha!” as if it means anything. You can shake it off and then look at a more interesting phenomenon: how Mormon apologists respond…Mormon apologists, instead of defending a tenuous historicity…will point out that the history may not be there…but that it doesn’t *have* to be there.

  For example, this is a short little skirmish on the issue.

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