ethnocentrism of Mormonism

The other day, I was slyly invited by a devout Mormon to a two-hour lecture on printing presses that turned out to be an ethnocentric testimony-fest. It started with Gutenburg, which was actually pretty interesting. (Except for the part where Adam was credited with inventing writing. Adam. Wow. The naivety astounded me.) Once the lecture moved on to Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Paine, and the war for independence-as-setting-the-stage-for-the-Restoration, I was rolling my eyes. When the lecturer was getting all spiritual about Thomas Paine and Common Sense, I wanted to interject, "He was a deist, man! A deist! Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin! The whole lot of them! All deists and atheists!" But I held my tongue, and endured the religious patriotism by fantasizing about the chaos that would ensue if I spoke my mind.

When the lecture moved on to full-blown Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith worship, I was ready to walk out. He talked about the printing of the Book of Mormon like it was an act of God, instead of just a bunch of men working hard on a poorly-written fantasy novel. I wished he would have asked me "What do you think of that?" and that I could have answered, "I think Joseph was a fraud." But I never would have. Whether that's out of respect for the people I was with or just plain cowardice, I don't know.

To the lecturer, and apparently the whole audience other than me, the invention of movable type, the discovery of the New World, and the creation of the United States were simply preparing the world for the printing of the Book of Mormon. And you know, "without the Book of Mormon we could not have the True Church of Jesus Christ on the Earth." (If only.) The ethnocentrism astounded me. The lecturer thought Mormonism was at the center of the world. What astounded me more than that was the thought that I used to think so, too. Once I let go of that notion two years ago, the world suddenly made so much more sense.

Perhaps the most disturbing part about the whole thing was that my son was there, hearing this drivel about the alloy used in the gold plates, the restoration of the gospel, and the hand of God in the Book of Mormon printing process. Thankfully, he was bored to death and not listening. I tried to take him out during the whole Book of Mormon part, but someone else kindly offered to entertain him outside so I could listen. No doubt to try to get me to feel the Spirit (TM).

I didn't.

Afterward, when we were alone, I asked little FTA what he learned.

"Nothing," he said, with his tough-preschooler attitude.

"Nothing?" I asked, feigning astonishment, but hiding relief that he didn't retain anything about the gold plates.

"Something about the Mormon book," he added. I thought, Okay, so we were going to have to do some damage control. But I smiled that he didn't even know the title, when kids his age are encouraged to carry copies of it with them to Sunbeams.

"See, about that. The guy back there? He was talking about the Book of Mormon like it was a history book. But I don't think it is. I think it's just a imagination book. A pretend story. You know? Like Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood. Because there's no evidence for it to show it's a history book."

"Yeah! None." He spread his arms expansively, and spoke in a exacerbated tone beyond his age, " 'Cause, evidence? Where is it?"