emerging from the ashes

so long

2008-04-15T12:16:00.000-07:00

This April marks my three year anniversary of my mental break from the Mormon church. At the beginning of April, 2005, I had a near panic attack when I realized I was more of a non-believer than a believer. On the first weekend of that April I visited Target to buy normal underwear instead of watching General Conference, and within the next few days I took my garments off for the last time. It was then when my parents discovered I was questioning the church. It was the most confusing, up and down, back and forth, turmoil-filled month of my life up to that point. On the last Sunday of April, I left the Mormon church services early and have never been back.

Three years is long enough.

It's time to move on.

For over eighteen months I have kept up this blog, with frenetic energy at first, and tapering off over the most recent few months. Early on, my fingers couldn't type fast enough to keep up with my thoughts and stories. I used to jot down notes when I was away from the computer, and write posts by hand during class when I was supposed to be taking notes.

When I have written recently, it's usually been a stretch to find something to write, as if I have to try to find ways Mormonism still affects me. And it does still affect me; it is a part of who I have become. Growing up Mormon and extricating myself from the church partly shapes who I am. But at some point--at this point--I want to stop thinking about it so much and just concentrate on developing who I am now, on becoming something more than an ex-Mormon.

I want to be me now.

I am happy I kept this blog, as it became a type of therapy for me, and I cherish the community and the friendships I have formed. Also, I have been touched by people who have commented and shared their own thoughts and stories, and hearing I have touched at least a few people means a great deal to me.

This blog will remain available so people can read the archives.

Thank you and goodbye.

-from the ashes

yoda's potty mouth

2008-04-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

Note to self: watch youtube videos before letting my son watch them.

You'd think a simple Star Wars spoof would be pretty innocent, right?

Okay, so I should've seen the possibility of inappropriate-content-for-5-year-olds coming.

But there's no way I could've predicted Yoda saying, "Oh, shit!"

And then my son repeating it about ten times, laughing the whole time. Because, yes, he does know that's "a word you shouldn't say around Grandma or at school, mmkay?"

baptisms for the dead, part 2

2008-03-30T17:11:00.000-07:00

Continued from baptisms for the dead, part 1...

The interview went well enough. I dressed up in my Sunday clothes, a dress I hated. But then, I hated all dresses. Just was not my thing. An interview with a member of the bishopric, though, required dressing up. It's how it was done, especially in my family.

Over at the church, I sat on the old orange couch in the foyer, my hands planted under my legs as I stared at the red-orange industrial carpet. Brother Hicks, the executive secretary, called my name and escorted me into the bishop's office. I was especially shy as a kid, so "don't speak until you are spoken to" was easy enough for me. Actually, adults had a hard time getting me to answer at all. But these were questions I had to answer, and answer correctly, without guilt on my face, if I wanted the temple recommend to go do baptisms.

I answered simple "yes"es and "no"s to all the right questions, the ones about faith and belief, the ones about behavior and abstinence and attendance. Easy stuff, for me. I'd read the Book of Mormon and believed it was "true." I thought Joseph Smith was a prophet and had restored the True Church and the Priesthood. I'd never even been offered alcohol or cigarettes, let alone try them. Sex was beyond my realm of imagination; I hadn't so much as held a boy's hand. Had he asked me about masturbation (had he thought girls did that), I wouldn't have known what the heck he was talking about.

The bishop signed the card, but kept it for my Beehive leader, so she would just have all of them in one place on the big day.

The next week, I zipped up my coat over my dress, and met the rest of the youth at the church parking lot for the carpool. Several of us piled into Sister Brown's car, excited and acting like any 12 year olds would: giggly and silly and downright untemple-like. Sister Brown quickly scolded us and began a serious lecture about how to act when about to visit the most sacred House of the Lord. Not only should we keep all conversation to a whisper, but we shouldn't talk about worldly things--which boy was the cutest and what outfit we'd be wearing to school tomorrow. Lots of jewelry was inappropriate, as was too much make-up, perfume, and bright nail polish. None of this bothered me, since I didn't wear any of that girly stuff anyway, but some of the other girls got a little uncomfortable recognizing how they were dressed and done up.

A reverent calm came over us after the lecture, and we sat a little more quietly for the ride to the Provo temple, 10 minutes away. Still, we were a group of girls, and the chit-chat started again. As we approached, I thought about how, well, ugly, the Provo temple was. I was pretty sure I shouldn't think of a temple as ugly, though, so I tried to think instead about how my parents got married there.

Once inside--the first time inside a temple!--I attempted a glance around, but we were hurriedly ushered to the left of the main foyer, and down a flight of stairs. I knew this is where the baptisms took place, in the basement. After Sister Brown showed an old man in white the list of our names and recommends, he waved us through a hall to a room.

This room had several wooden benches in it, all facing a large glass window. Through this window, I looked for the first time on the baptismal font, a hot tub-sized pool resting atop twelve golden oxen (representing the twelve tribes of Israel, I had been told). Men sat on either side of the font, above it, on a balcony, all of them in white jumpers. Two of these men worked at a computer console. It seemed oddly out of place. Two groups of youth in white clothes sat behind and to the side of them, girls on the left, boys on the right.

Off this main room were other rooms as well, but I couldn't tell their purpose. Sister Brown gathered us like a mother hen over to one of the rooms, full of white jumpers on hangers. An old lady helped us pick out jumpers in our sizes. Next, we were off to the girls' dressing room. Inside, we were pointed to yet another white-haired woman who stood in front of a large closet of white underclothes. While I was still processing what was happening, I heard another one of the girls list her pantie and bra size.

Oh, no! I was mortified. At twelve, I had already started wearing a bra, but only a training sports bra, and that only because my mom knew I'd be embarrassed in the PE locker room if I had no bra at all. And here was my fellow Beehive, a B since she was 10, and she never let me forget it, either. What size should I ask for? I didn't even know! What a nightmare. Too quickly, it was my turn, and when I couldn't get anything out of the mouth on my burning red face, the temple worker was kind enough to gently help me out with a negative triple A. Or whatever. I wasn't paying attention, just get me out of here already.

The next step was to change into our whites, and thankfully there were individual stalls with locking doors to give us privacy. I changed, put my clothes in a small locker within the stall, and locked it with the key. The key had a safety pin on it, and as I emerged from the stall, I saw the other girls were pinning the key just under the zipper on their jumpsuits. So the weight of the water doesn't pull the jumper open in the font--in front of the boys. I couldn't imagine much worse that having my clothes come open at the chest in front of the deacons in the ward. [Shudder.]

But then I heard the girls talking, and, yes, something could be worse. We were in white clothes and about to be dunked repeatedly in water. The boys will be able to see right through to our bra and panties! There wasn't much we could do about it, either, except get that towel around us as quickly as possible after coming out of the water. That, and imagine that only the boys virtuous enough to avert their eyes politely were the ones we wanted to date someday.

Once we were dressed, we nervously walked barefoot through the locker room, past the showers, and into the font area. There, we were directed to sit on a bench behind the font and wait our turns. The boys from our ward were on the opposite bench, to our left. They were goofing off. In the temple. How immature.

My turn came, and I gingerly stepped down the few stairs into the font, careful not to slip. Everyone was watching. The man in the font doing the baptisms, Mike, a guy from the ward about to go on his mission, helped me down. I got into position, standing in chest-deep water, facing a blue monitor, which sat just above the water to the side of the font. On the screen were the words for the baptism, so Mike could just read them off and not try to speak the words from memory. It was important to say the exact words, or the ordinance didn't count, and we'd have to do it all over again. Same if any part of my body or any strand of hair didn't get immersed completely--that's a do-over. My brother had been baptized twice when he was eight, because his toe had popped up. I secretly wished that had happened to me; I imagined there was something special about being baptized twice, like it washed away the sins even better.

Here in this baptismal font, I was about to be baptized for some dead women, enabling them to receive the necessary ordinance so they could progress from the spirit prison where they were, onto spirit paradise. I had heard stories about people performing baptisms for the dead, and seeing or feeling the presence of spirits, people they were being baptized for. The spirits came to witness their own vicarious baptisms, or to thank the person who got the ordinance done for them. Part of me hoped I would see some of the spirits, or at least feel them. But part of me was scared; seeing spirits might creep me out. I wasn't sure, and I wasn't sure if I had the faith to see them anyway. So I kept the idea to myself. And kept my eyes peeled.

Mike raised his right arm, elbow bent. Reading from the screen, he read, "Sister FTA, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you for and on behalf of Mary Klein, who is dead, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen." After a bit of confusion, we got our arms interlocked into position, with my fingers plugging my nose, and he immersed me completely under the water, and pulled me up again. The water was heavy on top of me, but not too cool, and the jumper pulled me down. Just as I was about to panic, I was out of the water, trying to regain my footing. He immediately started to repeat the prayer, this time with a different woman's name, and I was in the water again. I tried to pay attention to the screen to note the women's names, birth years, and birth places; I felt a special bond with them, being the person who played so significant a role in their salvation. I went down and up twenty times before it was the next person's turn.

I started up the steps out of the water, feeling the soaked, now see-through jumper cling to my body in all the wrong places. Mercifully, Sister Brown had anticipated this and was waiting just at the top of the stairs with a towel, which she draped over my back. She escorted me back past the girls, and into the shower area of the dressing room. Only shower curtains blocked the shower from anyone coming in or going out, and I felt embarrassed and worked as quickly as I could to get out of my wet clothes. But my dry clothes were secured back in the stall, so I was given a "shield" to wear as I walked back to change. The shield was basically a large square of white cloth with a hole cut in the middle for my head to poke through. I pulled my head through the hole, and tried as well as I could to hold the open sides closed all the way back to my stall.

Once dressed, my hair brushed but still wet, I was given yet another set of white clothes, this time to take part in confirmations--the ordinance done just after baptism that confirms the neophyte a member of the church and gives them the gift of the Holy Ghost. I was led into another room off the main room, and into a small cubicle, where two men in white jumpers sat around a chair. Their chairs were built specifically for this; they were like bar stools, with a crossbar elbow rest, so they could easily keep their arms up to put on the youths' heads, for blessing after blessing. I sat in the chair, and folded my hands in my lap. Both men placed their hands on my head (they were heavy hands) and one spoke the prescribed prayer, again saying my name, then inserting the name of a different dead woman each time. Between each time, they lifted their hands off my head, then placed them back down, making a clear distinction between each confirmation.

Finally, my part was done, and I only had to wait in the wooden benches while everyone else finished up. The others with me watched the people in the font, and chatted amongst themselves about this and that. Hopes that the boys didn't see through their jumpers; news that Paul had a crush on Suzie; gossip about who thought who was cute.

Once we were all gathered together, we headed back up the steps. When I left through the temple doors and back outside, I was surprised to find it was dark, and the ground was covered in snow. I had completely lost track of outside; inside had been so warm, so peaceful and filled with the Spirit. (Also, it had been windowless.) It was a little bit of a let down to go back into The World.

For a while, though, I had been inside. I had tasted a little bit of heaven, and I was eager to go back.

It occurred to me only halfway through writing this post that I would have never written down these details as a faithful Mormon. All goings-on in the temple are kept quite private, from personal feelings and reactions to actual ordinances and protocol. Mormons say this is because the temple is sacred, and it was to me. Writing about the baptisms and confirmations so openly would only confirm my status as an apostate. Keeping them secret only makes outsiders all the more curious and suspicious, and the rumors wild. Writing out my experience, I want to show my mundane interactions (talking about boys; worry about bra sizes and wet whites) in the midst of what I understood as my "sacred, spiritual experience." It was both grounded and sublime, as is much of Mormonism.

Thanks to Meg for reminding me about the bra and panties anguish.

fertility and new life

2008-03-23T20:46:00.000-07:00

I was pleased to find this was an easy Easter for me. Easier, that is, than the other Easters I've gone through since losing my faith. Like Christmas, there have always been the questions of how to celebrate, the discomfort of having Jesus be so prominent, the strange feeling that this should somehow be a religious holiday--never mind that I am non-religious.

I attended Episcopal church the Easter I was still a Christian, and it was immensely satisfying for me to celebrate Jesus without any interference from Mormonism. That same month, at the Unitarian Universalist church, they talked about Easter, Passover, Earth Day, and spring all in the same sermon. It was wonderful.

There are enough secular aspects of Easter, so it's easy enough to keep those. How could I tell my son that we're not having a Easter egg hunt? It would crush him. So I've always gone right along with the egg-dying, the hunt, the chocolate. (And I do love me some Cadbury mini-eggs.)

Jesus was hardly a thought in my mind today, except when Little FTA said, "I know what Easter is about. It's about Jesus dying." He'd heard that from his cousin, which is fine. I would have explained that to him anyway (though I am glad I didn't have to deal with the resurrection). I added, though, that Easter was originally a pagan holiday, before Jesus and before the Christians, celebrating the spring and life. And that's why we have chicks and eggs and bunnies--they represent life and fertility.

But he was all, Whatever, can I just have some more chocolate?

baptisms for the dead, part 1

2008-03-16T11:20:00.000-07:00

Another story from Growing up Mormon:

I was twelve years old, finally in young women’s and finally old enough to go to the Provo temple to do baptisms for the dead. I was almost giddy about the prospect of actually going inside the temple. I’d been looking forward to this for years. That primary song told me to look forward to it, after all.

I love to see the temple
I’m going there someday
To cov’nant with my father
To listen and to pray

For the temple is the house of God
A place of love and beauty.
I’ll prepare myself while I am young
It is my sacred duty.

I had no idea what it was like inside. I’d only seen the outside, the off white, roundish building with the orange-gold spire. Frankly, I thought this temple was a bit funny looking. Ugly, even, if I could call a temple ugly. I suspected I shouldn’t. My parents had been married in this temple, and I always wondered why they chose that one. It was the closest, I guess. But still, this was the temple I grew up seeing on the hill, lit up at night. And really, it didn’t matter what was on the outside. I was curious about the inside.

My parents kept mum about the whole thing. I saw them go off early in the morning, and come back before my school day began, with their little tote bags. I knew there were “temple clothes” inside those bags, but I never, ever saw them. They were sacred, my mom told me once when I asked. I wasn’t to see them.

Despite their secrecy, I knew a little about what went on inside the temples. There were baptisms for the dead, of course, in the basement, and something called endowments, and marriage sealings. Mom had said something about a cafeteria once, and a chapel. It seemed incongruent to have something so worldly as a cafeteria in a house of God, but then, I guess people gotta eat.

Now I was old enough to be let into the basement to do baptisms for the dead, and that felt special. It wasn’t the whole shebang, but it was something.

When my dad told me I’d have to get a special temple recommend, a “one time use” one, my excitement was dampened by nervousness about the interview. What kind of questions would the bishop’s councilor ask? Was I worthy? What would Heavenly Father see in my heart? I started feeling guilty.

For what? What should I be feeling guilty for? I searched my conscious, my memory. I lied that time when I was three, but that was erased when I was baptized anyway. Right, so I only have to think about what happened since I turned eight. Third grade. Okay, think. A couple lies. Never stole anything from the grocery store. Wasn’t always perfect to my siblings. Never cheated on a test at school. Um...Okay, I think I’m okay. But I still felt mildly guilty, and scared.

a matter of interpretation

2008-03-05T11:21:00.001-08:00

I started reading Bushman's Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling this weekend.

Why?

Because I want to torture myself?

Actually, it's more the fact that this is the book my devout relatives are reading about Smith, and I want to know what information and interpretations they are getting. You see, now I know I can make a comment about the peep stone in the hat as the translation process for the Book of Mormon, and not have them look at me like I've sprouted two heads, called Evil Apostate and Anti-Mormon Liar.

I've even found there are some gems in this book that I've never picked up before, like how Joseph borrowed Joseph Knight's wagon and horse the night he "found" the golden plates, but without Knight's knowledge or permission. Leaving Knight to believe his horse and wagon had been stolen by some rogue. Um, yep, they had.

Bushman has put quite a bit of information in there that would have been previously dismissed as Lies of the Devil and now needs to be accepted by believing Mormon readers as "Yep, as weird as it sounds, that's how it happened," which is a good thing. Like the peep stone in the hat, the treasure-seeking, and the multiple first vision accounts. Of course, Bushman suffuses the narrative with enough "But it's all okay; you can still believe" interpretations that Mormons won't have too much cognitive dissonance. His interpretations usually leave me annoyed, and his straw man Book of Mormon critics are dismissed much too easily. But then, his arguments make him look like he actually believes in a golden book that told an impossible history of the Americas. How quaint.

now that wasn't so bad

2008-03-03T12:56:00.000-08:00

If you've been reading my blog for a few months, you'll know that last time I was in Utah was for Thanksgiving. On that trip, I had an allergic reaction to the very act of driving across the border into the Mormon state (manifest in the desire to get a tattoo or some body piercings--anything to look Not Molly Mormon). This time, though, I didn't get that suffocating feeling of needing to rebel, though I did lament the noticeably small numbers of coffee shops.

I'm not sure what was different this time; maybe it's the passage of time--I've been a non-believer for nearly three years now--or maybe it's that I had a week off and actually chose to spend it in Utah. Sometimes I think that must mean I am crazy. But really, it's about my family. I like them, whatever their beliefs. If they weren't there, I wouldn't have a reason to go to Utah (though the exmo meet-ups are nice).

The problem is we (my family and I) are virtually incapable of talking about my leaving the church. We pretend like it isn't there, that elephant in the room. Most of the time that's okay, really. There are other topics, of course. But sometimes I just want to blurt out, "I resigned my membership!"

There is one sibling, though, that surprised me with her openness and willingness to talk. Her husband recently resigned his membership, and--gasp--we actually talked about it! And other topics of belief, too. It was wonderful to have someone within the family to discuss things with. She's still a believer, but I feel like I can talk fairly openly with her (as long as I don't say something like Joseph Smith was a putz). The last time I had talked to this sister about religion, she had asked me to never talk to her about religion again, so this new openness is refreshing. The trip was worth that alone.

been reading

2008-02-05T21:14:00.000-08:00

I've been reading this fabulous book, eat, pray, love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. You've likely heard of it or at least seen it around, as it is a #1 New York Times Bestseller, as the cover proudly proclaims. It was recommended to me by both my devout mother-in-law and by fellow DAMU blogger, love medicine (who has exponentially expanded my To Read list).

The first section, "eat," is about a four-month stay in Italy, where the author practices the art of indulgence by learning Italian--for no other reason than she wants to--and by eating wonderful, delicious Italian food. There's this great chapter where she describes seeking out the best pizza place in Naples, the city where pizza began. Get this: she's eating the Best Pizza in the World. She gushes about this pizza with it's thin crust, perfectly flavored red sauce, and fresh mozzarella (once you've gone fresh, you can't go back). I tell you, she practically describes a food-gasm about this pizza. Tears of joy over the cheese. Shit, I almost had a food-gasm myself just reading about it. I thought back to the best pizza I've ever had, in New York City, with fellow exmos Meg & Jack Slate, hank rearden, lisesymom & exV, and juggler vain. We were there for lunch, I had skipped class and taken the train in just for this lunch, and we ate pepperoni pizza with rolls and red wine. The sauce was perfect, the crust was crisp but melt-in-your-mouth wonderful, and the fresh mozzarella just made this pizza. I can't imagine the pizza in Naples.

What I love about this section of the book is that the author feels it is 100% okay to indulge like this. Enjoy life; cater to your senses; focus on the body. This is not okay in Mormonism, where the spiritual self is supposed to put above the physical self: sacrifice, deny immediate pleasure for future gain, fast from food to get in touch with your spirit. That's not to say that Mormons can't be foodies; I certainly was. But I always felt a bit guilty about it.

Twenty-three pounds heavier, Gilbert goes on to India for a spiritual journey in the Buddhist tradition. There are parts of this I really liked and appreciated. Some of it made me want to try meditation, explore Buddhism more. I felt a bit jealous, really, of the transcendent moments she experiences. On the other hand, I found myself irked by it all being explained with the term "God." I don't want to be irked, but I am. Gilbert's version of God is absolutely nothing like the Mormon's Heavenly Father, of course. It's something much more elusive, certainly not corporeal, but still, often, a He. Ick. I also found my skeptical side kicking in and asking, "Why should we be seeking these altered states of consciousness at all? And why do they have to be called spiritual? Isn't what they call "god" just a part of our brain, a state of mind, something inexplicable to them but not, someday, to science?"

There was one particular passage that describes faith. I found my skeptic self frustrated by the description and argument.

"There's a reason we refer to 'leaps of faith'--because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be--by definition--faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark."

I didn't like it. That leap from the rational to the unknowable. Been there done that. Except that I was ignoring the rational because the knowable was artificially made unknowable by the scary label "anti-Mormon lies." So in leaving the church, I made the opposite leap; from what I thought was the knowable to the rational. And the rational won, and I value it too much right now to try any leap back. Maybe sometime I'll try seeking out some other level of spirituality, but not now.

The same paragraph goes on to read,

"If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, out belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be...a prudent insurance policy."

That bit I appreciated. I realized that had I read that three years ago, when I was on the verge of the collapse of my Mormon belief, I would have really liked it. It would have opened my eyes and changed my understanding of faith, and helped me see that Mormonism had a messed up view of faith. Other religions see faith as doubt; Mormonism sees doubt as antithetical to faith. Mormonism confuses faith and knowledge; people say "I know the church is true" instead of "I believe the church is true." Gilbert never, ever says, "I know" about anything. She never, ever says, "This is the way to achieve transcendence." Her attitude is more, "I'm not sure what this is, but I like it" and "Everyone should seek their own way, this way has been working for me." How refreshing. Overall I liked the section, and appreciated that even though her experience and interaction with spirituality is so different from mine, it is still human experience and valuable to her and to me.

And now for the "love" section, where she seeks balance. I can't wait to read it.

*Both quotes are from p. 175

once again, the insignificance

2008-02-01T15:15:00.000-08:00

I haven't had much to write lately, besides being a bit bogged down by some virus. I suppose it's a good thing for me that I don't think enough about Mo'ism to have something to write several times a week.

Trying to think of something in my life that was Mo-influenced, I remembered the most significant event in a while for Mormons--the death of the president, Hinckley, this past Sunday. My response was a shocked and sympathetic, "Wow" when my mother-in-law told me. While I feel sympathy for his family at their loss, I'll confess that just a couple days before the death, my husband and I had been wondering when the nonogenarian would pass. (Nope, that doesn't make me a prophet for predicting the future, as he was 97, and I'd been wondering when he would die for years now.)

The death would have been much more a significant for me had I still been a believer, as it is, I'm sure, for my family and friends who are. I imagine many of them will watch the four-hour funeral proceedings tomorrow. The most time I'm going to put in, though, is watching the Colbert Show coverage. 'Cause it's hilarious. Predictably, it links the death and the passing of the mantle to Thomas S Monson to Romney's candidacy, then switching into a writers' strike joke--showing exactly how little the small world of Mormondom means to the rest of the country.

On facebook, I noticed that some Mormons are "getting their panties in a bunch" about the video clip and have formed a group to boycott Colbert for it. But I also noticed that there's another Mormon group to boycott the boycott.

notes on religion and health

2008-01-25T12:23:00.000-08:00

I was updating my list of "Further Reading" books, and realized a couple books I had on there previously were dropped when I switched from the old blogger. (Some of my blogroll was also lost; my apologies if your blog is not on my list--just let me know!)

The two books I recognized as lost were God, Faith, and Health: Exploring the Spirituality-Healing Connection, by Jeffrey Levin, and Blind Faith: The Unholy Alliance of Medicine and Religion, by Richard P. Sloan. I read them both for a class I took, and looking through my classwork, I found some of my notes about the books.

Koenig [who he is, I can't for the life of me remember] argues that health benefits might only come to those who are intrinsically religious; this leads me to wonder about all those people who are extrinsically religious, but belong to religions that do not let them admit that. Are they not only getting no benefits, but are they also harmed by religion? Even Levin acknowledges that such people exist in his comment about “the exceptions, such as people whose emotional well-being is harmed by religion” (Levin, p. 8). It is easy for Levin to say, “If we find that how we worship is only making us more miserable, then it may be time to find a new way to pray” (p. 92). However, for people in conservative religions especially, Levin has a frustratingly simple view of people’s ability to switch religions or styles of worship. If religion is paid better attention to in public health and medical practice, it should be to find those people for whom religion causes negative health outcomes, particularly with regards to mental health. Much more research needs to be done to even tease out these effects and to determine how widespread they are. Unfortunately, at this stage most studies on religion and health are financially supported by religious funders; it is in their interest to ignore religion and negative health outcomes.

The application of findings of religious studies to medical or public health practice should only be done only with great caution. The studies are indeterminate enough that medicine cannot go beyond saying religiousness/spirituality may have benefits for prevention of chronic disease in general, particularly with regards to providing social support, reducing rates of high-risk behaviors, and providing time to relieve stress. But this ignores the cases in religious communities where social support morphs to coercive demands for social conformity; where youth are ignorant about how to protect themselves from STDs because of demands for absolute abstinence; and where participation causes stress. These cannot be simply ignored.

If findings were to be used in practice, it would best be secularized first. For example, doctors and public health interventions could recommend people find social groups, reduce risk-behaviors, and take time out of each day to relieve stress. The recommendation could then list possible forms of social groups, with church groups as one example of many, and possible forms of stress-relief, such as yoga, breathing, prayer, meditation, etc. Religion should not be ignored, but it also should not be trumpeted as a panacea, especially given that membership in a religious community stems from many reasons, not limited to an actual desire to be a member.

shirt and tie

2008-01-22T08:31:00.000-08:00

I dreamed a dream...

I was at my parents' house in Utah, and lots of extended family was there too. It was a Saturday evening. I walked into the living room to find at least a dozen family memories hanging about. I saw my son in the center of room, playing with three of his male cousins. I saw with annoyance that all of the boys had on white shirts and ties, as if in preparation for church, including my son. (Who had a Star Wars tie on, to his delight.) I could see he was enjoying the group uniform, the feeling of being one of the crowd. Obviously, one of the adult members of the family had decided to introduce this particularity of the Mormon church to my son, as if grooming him for more exposure to the One and True Living Gospel.

As I stood there steaming about it, my dad asked me, right in front of everyone, "When you are going to have Little FTA baptized?" My son is a couple years away from the Age of Accountability still, but in the dream, he was just old enough. Just old enough that people were wondering when the date of the baptism would be.

Just after my dad asked that question, my husband came and stood by my side. I answered, "Not until he's 18, if he wants to at all." That created quite a ripple through the crowd, and I left the room, only to be hounded by others about why we would wait so long. The dream ended.

Now I have to think, how would I answer?

-NEVER!

-We feel that childhood is not the appropriate time to join a church, any more than it is the time to join a political party.

-We're not going to baptize him. And, no, you can't baptize him either.

-Little FTA doesn't believe in god.

Mormonism and the Bible

2008-01-18T10:49:00.000-08:00

I realized that in my last post about the Bible, I forgot to write some things I wanted to say. Like how Mormonism has a strange relationship with the Bible. Because of the 8th Article of Faith, "We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God" (I typed that from memory; I think I got it right), Mormons are kind off the hook in some respects. For example, you could take a passage in the Bible you don't like or agree with (hmm, like slaughtering every man, women, child, and animal; or sacrificing daughters; or destroying gay people) and throw it out with a "it must not have been translated correctly."

Joseph Smith seemed to have done this with the crazy story of Lot offering up his daughters to the Sodomites in place of the male visitors (as if it's better to rape women than men?). "Behold now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let me, I pray you, bring them out unto you, and do ye to them as is good in your eyes: only unto these men do nothing; for therefore came they under the shadow of my roof" (KJV Genesis 19:8). In the Smith translation, the scripture reads "And Lot said, Behold now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let me, I pray you, plead with my brethren that I may not bring them out unto you; and ye shall not do unto them as seemeth good in your eyes;" (JST Genesis 19:13). Smith's version certainly makes Lot sound like a nicer dad (we'll not get into what happens later).

I've seen Mormons discount stories with other morally questionable passages, like the story of youth getting eaten by bears because they teased Elisha about being bald (see 2 Kings 2: 23-24). When you believe the Bible is true only insofar as it was translated correctly, it's easy to decide that the whole bear story was a fairy tale, or at least told incorrectly. God wouldn't do that. And yet I've seen even worse stories held up as absolutely factual, like God telling the Hebrews to slaughter every living thing in wherever-it-was (see, I really need to improve my Bible literacy). I mean, why not give God the benefit of the doubt that He (ahem) really is benevolent and decide that particular passage was an after-the-fact justification for massacre, or that the incident didn't even happen at all?

I would expect some Mormons to also take the as-far-as-it-was-translated-correctly clause as an easy way to reconcile modern science with the early stories of the Bible. You know, like the 7-day creation, Noah's flood, the parting of the Red Sea, 900-year lifespans, the Tower of Babel as the origin of diversity of languages, etc. It'd be pretty easy to dismiss these as mythology if you don't have to believe every word of the Bible as Truth. And yet the party line is that these things did literally happen (I'm sure there are many Mormons who don't believe these literally, and many are able to handle the cognitive dissonance of believing both evolution and creation, for example).

I suspect that one of the reasons Mormons generally don't dismiss those stories as mythology is Joseph Smith's literal belief in them--and his placing of mythological characters and events in prominent, literal events. Noah's flood must be literal, for example, because prophets said the flood was the baptism of the earth (for example Smith, Joseph Fielding, Jr., Doctrines of Salvation (Salt Lake City: BookCraft, 1955), Vol.2, p.320.). And if the Tower of Babel is just mythology, then the story of the Jaredites in the Book of Mormon would have to be mythology too--so if you believe the Book of Mormon is true, you must believe the Tower of Babel is literal. Then there's Joseph's assertion that Abraham was a real person who wrote a real book and hid it among Egyptian papyri while he was really in Egypt. And while I've on the rare occasion heard Mormons refer to the temple version of the creation as symbolic, it's safe to bet that a large proportion take Adam and Eve's existence as quite literal. Joseph certainly did--he reportedly spoke to not only Adam (aka Michael), but also Gabriel (aka Noah), Raphael (D&C 128:20-21), Seth, Enoch, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Journal of Discources 17:374; 18:325-26; 21:65, 94, 161; 23:48). So it's safe to say that Mormons are supposed to take those men's respective Bible stories as real.

Which is unfortunate.

the spirit and transcendence

2008-01-16T11:21:00.000-08:00

I recently had a faithful Mormon friend ask me, "Okay, so you left the church. But what about your spiritual experiences? Didn't you have any? What did you 'do' with them since leaving?"

In reply, I sent here edited versions of two previous posts, the spirit and exorcising the spirit. On reading those posts, I realized I've thought more about the issues, and added the following to my reply.

I also think that transcendent moments (e.g. spiritual experiences) happen across religions, and to the non-religious, and people interpret them according to how they were taught to interpret them, or according to their personality. A Baptist takes it as confirmation that her church is the true one; a Mormon takes it as confirmation that her church is true; an agnostic takes it as a beautiful moment of feeling a connection with the community or the cosmos; one boy decides his experience means he should become a priest; another boy sees his as a great love for science and the natural world. It doesn't mean none of it is sacred or important. A good quote for this is "I now believe that whether or not there's a God, there is such a thing as sacredness. Life is sacred. The Sabbath can be a sacred day. Prayer can be a sacred ritual. There is something transcendent, beyond the everyday. It's possible that humans created this sacredness ourselves, but that doesn't take away from its power or importance."

bible

2008-01-11T11:51:00.000-08:00

I've been reading more of the book I mentioned in my last post, and realized that I've never actually read the Bible all the way through. Sure, I attended Sunday school, where the Old Testament (I now prefer to call it the Hebrew Bible) and the New Testament were the year's topic every 3rd and 4th year. And I was a highly-faithful seminary student all through high school, where the Old and New Testaments were taught my junior and senior years. I even liked it that way; I loved that New Testament finished off my seminary career. Keep the focus on Jesus and all. Then in college, I took a New Testament class again, one focusing on the Four Gospels.

But in all that, did I ever actually read the whole thing? Nope. In seminary, it's the usual practice to read every verse and chapter (or section, for D&C) through the school year. For the Book of Mormon year, that was easy enough, since I'd made a habit of reading that book daily since I was 11. I read every section of D&C, retaining virtually nothing. But for the Bible, especially the Hebrew Bible, the powers that be selected which chapters and verses were important enough for us to read. Numbers for example--we read all that. Vital to know the exact count of each of the tribes wandering the Sinai. And at least most of Deuteronomy. Why did we read those? To know all those laws we no longer follow? Song of Solomon was completely nixed. If anyone asked why, we were told that part was not inspired. Among ourselves, we discussed how it was immoral, pornographic even. Which was enough to get some kids to crack those pages on their own, I'm sure, but if anything was even labeled pornographic, that was enough to keep me far, far away. (I've still never read that book, though I have read some exegesis on it.) So I have read most of the Bible, but I skipped quite a bit, not according to what interested me, but according to what the Church Education System thought I should read.

Oh, and only the King James Version. Which is considered the worst English translation out there. Not only is the English difficult to understand, but it's just a poor translation. It's old. Scholars have learned a lot more about translating Hebrew since then. More modern versions better represent what the Hebrew says, and they say it in language that doesn't sound 400 years old. "Charity never faileth" becomes "Love never fails." Ahh, much better.

Mormons cling to the King James Version, though. Why? Ultimately because that's the version Joseph Smith, Sr. had in his home, as far I as know. So it's what Joseph Smith, Jr., grew up with. All kinds of justifications have arisen as to why they haven't switched to another version like a lot of churches have. Like, the language seems more noble, more holy. Why is James's English more holy than any earlier or later English? And are we forgetting Smith's idea that God speaks the "Adamic" language, not English? And have we forgotten that when the Bible is in other languages, it's not in King James English? The Book of Mormon and D&C are in similar archaic language, which Mormons take as evidence that God just speaks that way. But which says to me Joseph Smith thought God speaks that way.

In addition, there's the major quoting of the Bible in the Book of Mormon. The King James Bible. Supposedly 1000-2000 years before the King James Bible was written. Mormons take this as evidence that both are from God, and further evidence that the King James version is the way to go. Occam's Razor compels me to interpret that anachronism differently.

The greatest joke the King James version played on Joseph Smith is in the italicized words. I asked about the italicized words as a young child, and was told that these words are glossed, not exact translations. For example, in Hebrew you might not need the word "to" in a certain phrase, while in English you do, so it's put in, but italicized. Or there are other words that are translated with hesitation, where the meaning is unclear. Joseph Smith didn't have the luxury of an educated dad to tell him this, though. So when Smith came across the italicized words when rendering his translation of the Bible, he added whole phrases. A large portion of his translation is just his expanding glossed translations as if they were secret passageways to God's lost words. The same is true of the (mis)quoted parts of Isaiah in 2nd Nephi. When I learned about that I was still unsure about the Smith and the Book of Mormon. When I read about that, though, the possibility of Joseph's prophethood dropped 20 notches. Not the final nail in the coffin of my testimony, but it definitely raised suspicions.

Part of my Bible illiteracy is the quoting the Bible in the Book of Mormon. Lots of (2nd) Isaiah, a oneupmanship version of the Sermon on the Mount. So sometimes I can't remember which verses are in which book. At least I recognize this, so I can avoid making a fool of myself by spouting off a quote I think is from the Bible only to have a Sunday-schooled Bible thumper tell me I must be quoting Satan. Then there's the problem of the Pearl of Great Price--it has a lot of similarities to parts of Genesis, but is definitely in its own la-la-land. Like that story about Abraham almost getting sacrificed by his father? I didn't realize that wasn't in the Hebrew Bible until a few years ago. (Who can keep track of all those sacrifices and twice-told stories?)

Anyway, I've decided I want to read the Bible--and not the King James version. Not because I think I should, because I want to be Bible literate in a culture so infused with the Bible. I've tended to be pretty anti-scripture the past couple years, but I know there are some nice things in the Bible, too, among all the morally despicable and just plain wacko parts. I'm looking forward to reading it as mythology for the first time, too. What freedom to read it as "this is what one guy thought" and "this is a ancient story from the Hebrew people" instead of "this is what happened" or "this is what God wants me to do"!

And I'm looking forward to the Song of Solomon.

spirituality

2008-01-08T16:29:00.001-08:00

Since leaving the church, I've learned to differentiate spiritual from religious, and feel that one can nourish one's spirituality without organized religion or even religion at all. (One can also be religious without being spiritual.) But the actual definition of spiritual is elusive, maybe because it is intensely personal.

I think of it as a selfhood, a soulfulness (though I don't think there is a "soul" per se), paying attention to that part of the world that is me and only me. I also see it as a feeling of connection to others, to the world, the cosmos, the sublime. A feeling of peace, or joy, or love. A contentedness. It can be found anywhere, and it's different for everyone. A book, a movie, some music, dance, or art. In a walk through the forest or on the beach, or even in the neighborhood. Creating, building , destroying. Meditation, prayer, recitation, exercise, thrill-seeking.

Why do we seek it? I believe it has something to do with the fact that human brains have evolved to the point that we are conscious of our consciousness. We are animals smart enough to ask, "Why?" Smart enough to realize we are one tiny bit of one great whole, and we seek significance and connection within that.

I've been pretty non-spiritual and secular the past couple years, for the most part. Don't have god, don't need sublimeness or religion. But every once in a while, I feel like I'm in the mood for something spiritual. I miss it and crave it. I wonder, am I missing out on something by being secular? Is there really something special about religion that I can't achieve without it?

These questions were brought on this last week by a book I'm reading, The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible. I thought it would be terribly funny and irreverent, the whole book aimed at poking fun at all the wacko things in the Bible. It is quite funny, but the author really, truly tried to find god by following the rules in the Bible (wacko rules and all). It's written by a secular New Yorker who wondered if he was missing something by being secular. He wanted to give the Bible an honest try. Half way through his year, he found himself praying to god when his son was hurt. Spontaneously praying, and actually believing it might help (for a few seconds anyway).

And I realized something. I miss that. I used to structure my world view around a benevolent god watching over me. Me personally. I used to pray. Now? I've not once prayed that my current illness would go away. Most of the time, I am perfectly reconciled to the idea that I'm an outcome of evolution, that there is no ultimate purpose, no afterlife of reward. But sometimes, sometimes, I miss how it was.

only the good stuff

2008-01-06T12:12:00.001-08:00

I've been on a little hiatus, what with family in town for the holidays, Little FTA out of school, and my persistent no good, rotten, bad mood since Christmas. Unfortunately, this was one of those bad moods that kills my muse rather than brings it out. Sigh. I just haven't felt like writing or felt like I had anything to write.

But last night, on the way back from dinner with my husband, son, and believing brother-in-law, Little FTA busted out with a great line. And I thought, That is so going on the blog.

We were telling stories, and mission stories came up. Both my husband and his brother went on Mormon missions, so they've got lots of stories. Little FTA piped up, "What's a mission? Is that like when you go out and find something?" He was thinking of secret agent missions, in the vein of Backyardigans Super Secret Spy or James Bond.

I started to explain, "No, it's not like going on a secret mission to find something. See, Mormons and some other Christians go out as missionaries to try to convince people to join their church, to be Mormons or Christians too."

"Oh, right," Little FTA added in all seriousness, "but they only tell them the good stuff."

We laughed at that, and I said, "That's right. They only tell them the good stuff."

My brother-in-law was a bit shocked, but good-natured about it. "What are you teaching him?" he asked.

"Not to be a Mormon, that's for sure," I mumbled.

adam and eve

2007-12-28T10:37:00.000-08:00

It was my turn to put Little FTA to bed, Adam and Eve somehow came up. Little FTA, never having heard the Adam and Eve story, asked for an explanation. So I told him how in the stories about the origin of the earth, the first man and woman were called Adam and Eve. He asked incredulously, "So they think that there was the Big Bang, and then poof, Adam and Eve?" I explained how the Big Bang isn't part of those stories. The Big Bang is such a given for him, so he demanded more explanation.

I went on about how before science figured out the Big Bang and the first life on earth and evolution, people didn't know how all that happened. So in each culture, they made up stories to explain how it all started; they are called creation myths. I then went on to tell him that the Adam and Eve story is the creation myth of one people, the Hebrews, and it's written in a book called the Hebrew Bible. There are lots of different creation myths from all over the world, and this is one of them.

He was cool with that; I loved the freedom he had to just accept that. So I told him how god created the earth in seven days, etc. I feminized the story, having god create Adam and Eve together, and together they named the animals, etc. When I was done, he looked at me and said, "Boring! Tell me a different creation story." I couldn't remember any. To try to spice the Hebrew one up for him, I continued on with the story of the forbidden fruit, the serpent, and the kicking out from the garden. I tried to explain how it was a metaphor for growing up and discovering sexuality, and having to work hard as adults. But I realized I didn't know the Bible version well, and was telling him the Mormon Pearl of Great Price/temple version. Oh well. I gotta get more Bible literate myself, I guess.

And more cross-culturally literate, as well. Since that little chat with Little FTA, I looked up alternative creation myths. Here are some for your perusal.

holiday

2007-12-25T14:08:00.000-08:00

I hope everyone is having wonderful holidays. All my best to you and your families and friends.

I've managed to shake my bah-humbug mood this season and enjoy being with extended family and having fun.

Sideon's thoughtful post really helped, too.

solstice celebration

2007-12-23T09:57:00.000-08:00

After a few years of wanting to celebrate solstice, we finally decided to try it. We didn't know until the day of how long we'd have the house to ourselves, so we didn't really prepare as much as I'd have liked. I would have loved to light a fire in the yard with a Yule log, but we didn't have a fire pit or wood, and I didn't check if it was a no-burn day, etc. There's a fireplace in the master bedroom here, but it's fake. Sigh. So we skipped the fire.

Instead, we eagerly waited until the house was empty except for us, then I flitted around the main rooms of the house placing unlit candles on nearly every horizontal surface. On the family room coffee table, we placed three candles for the three of us; one yellow candle to represent the sun and substitute for the Yule log; and a big glass bowl filled with water and sprinkled with gold glitter. The glass bowl also had a candle in the center. We had wanted the yellow candle in the bowl, but it wouldn't fit.

I made sure the lights were out, and we let the house get darker as the sun went down. The three of us gathered in front of the coffee table, and as we waited for sunset (I had looked up the exact time on the Internet), we talked about some of the hardships of the year: leaving our home back East, my uncle dying, my health, our trip postponement. We let the darkness of the long night represent sadness, difficulty, etc., and reminded our son that life sucks sometimes, we're sad sometimes, and that's okay. Little FTA named an incident in school this year when his friend said he didn't want to be him friend anymore. We discussed how that made him feel, and how he might go about repairing that friendship.

Just at sunset, we lit the center candle, then lit each of our candles from the "sun" candle. During this we talked about the sun as happiness, hope, and love, and how the sun makes life on earth possible. Still in the dark except for those four candles, we moved about the house lighting the rest of the candles, as well as turning on the Christmas lights. We lit the yellow one in a very safe candle holder and let it burn all night.

Little FTA was excited about getting his own candle to light things, but he's still young, so we supervised. He dropped his candle right on the carpet once, and luckily the carpet snuffed it out. "Whoa!" he said, "I thought it was going to light the carpet on fire!" Later, he dropped the candle and candle holder on the kitchen floor, and it shattered. (Note: Make sure the kids are old enough to handle the candle ceremony.) Other than that, we had a nice time lighting the candles and watching the flickering flames around the house.

By then, we were hungry, and we'd read that pagan celebrations of solstice involved indulging in good food and the pleasures of life, so we picked a nice organic restaurant whose name meant The Sun. After a three-course meal, most of it foods we'd never tried before, and some yummy microbrews, we headed home and re-lit the candles we had extinguished for safety reasons while we were gone.

It was a very nice little family celebration. I think we've got ourselves a tradition.

solstice

2007-12-22T10:46:00.000-08:00

Have a wonderful winter solstice.

Here are some links to information, celebrations, and rituals to help you enjoy your day.

School of the Seasons

Candle Grove: Ancient Origins of Solstice Celebrations

Religious Tolerance: Winter Solstice Celebrations

Circle Sanctuary: Celebrating Winter Solstice

Wikipedia: Winter Solstice

(Picture credit.)

immorality education

2007-12-21T05:47:00.000-08:00

Like other Mormon young women (doesn't everyone else call them teenagers or youth?), I had the importance of "morality" drilled into me. Morals and ethics are fine things, but in Mormon parlance, "morality" means one thing: abstinence from sex. Conversely, "immorality" means having sex. Why the terms took on such specific meanings I cannot fathom, and I believe it creates a skewed idea of what morality actually is, but that's not the topic of this post. What I want to talk about is the Mormon version of teaching youth about sex.

As a youth, I was taught that immorality (which I always had to sort out in my head as different from immortality, another hot topic in Mormon churches) was bad, bad, bad, to be avoided at all costs, and just downright bad. Fornication was listed as the third worst sin, after murder (number two), and denying the Spirit (whatever that means). How messed up is that? Also, if you were "immoral," you were unworthy to go to the temple. And it was the temple where you wanted to get married, to start your eternal family, so you had better avoid immorality!

And how to avoid it? By staying as far away from it as possible. How? Not dating until you were at least 16, not entertaining dirty thoughts, not reading dirty romances, not watching rated-R movies, not watching dirtier PG-13 movies, not having a steady boyfriend until after high school, not single-dating, not staying out past midnight ("When the holy Ghost goes to bed!"), and not going to parties where the parents wouldn't be there. Don't masturbate would've been on the list, had any of our leaders imagined that, yes, females masturbate, too. But they didn't.

Oh, and all the do's, too: Go to seminary, stay worthy of the Spirit, read your scriptures, say your prayers, attend church every week, go to Young Women's activity nights, befriend only people with your same standards (read: Molly Mormons, and only Mormons), listen to good music, read worthy books, and always dream of the day you will be sealed in the temple to a worthy return missionary!

I remember my dad's explanation behind waiting until you were 16 to date: You start dating, hanging out with people you like, and you're going to want to move to the next step--holding hands. Pretty soon, holding hands won't be enough, so you'll want to move on to hugging. Then little kisses. Then even that will get boring, and you'll want to kiss more. Maybe even make-out. And making out will lead to heavier making out, and before you know it, you're clothes are off and you've blown (heh) you're chance at happiness (e.g., temple marriage). So don't start dating early, and don't be alone with your date, until, oh, you're married, mmkay?

Oh, and if you are "immoral" with that 18-year old, you'll prevent him from going on his mission, so not only will you have ruined his life, but you'll have stopped him from teaching all those people he would have converted had he only stayed worthy, you slut!

Did we get any lessons about STDs? Teen pregnancy? How hard it is to be a teen mother? How to deal with the emotions around having sex? Birth control? HIV? Where to get condoms and how to put them on? How to negotiate safe sex with your partner? How anal and oral sex can still spread diseases, if not pregnancy? Nope, nope, nope.

How to say no to a boy? How to be confident and strong? How we have the right to say when and where and how and with whom? No way. How about sexual abuse? Rape? Incest? How to deal with those? Where to seek help? Nope. What to do if you find yourself pregnant? The teachers were eerily silent on the issues.

Instead, it was simple: Stay clean, stay worthy, and all will be well and you'll live happily ever after in your perfect temple marriage. Slip up, and you're screwed (heh). And left to wallow in your guilt for having sexual impulses.

That is, being a completely normal human being.

say a little prayer for you

2007-12-20T04:59:00.000-08:00

A while back I wrote a post about how I assume my parents pray for me, and that's all fine and good since I know it brings them comfort, even if I don't believe it actually has any causative power. I also wrote how I would prefer they don't inform me that they pray for my return to the church, out of respect for my world view. Further, I find it offensive to believe that god would help me on my exams or whatever, just because I or someone else prayed for it, while apparently ignoring bigger problems in the world like thousands of dying in natural disasters and wars, just because they aren't praying to him, too. But I realize that as believers, they will and do pray for me, and I've accepted that, and they've had the good sense to keep it to themselves.

Until the other day.

I was talking to my mom on the phone, informing her of my latest health woes (now you know why I haven't left the country yet), and at the end of the conversation, I could tell she was hesitating about something. Finally, she blurted out, "Well, I'm praying for you. I know you don't believe in that stuff...but I do. So I still pray for you."

Her tone was upbeat and friendly, enough to make me laugh in reaction. It didn't seem self-righteous or like she was trying to shove her beliefs onto me at all; it was just a statement. It was almost a little apologetic, like she was very aware I held different ideas than her.

So I told her that's fine. And it felt fine, too. Praying for me during my hard times is something she does to feel a little bit more in control of circumstances way beyond her control, and a little bit of comfort. And that doesn't seem so bad, does it?

if I were free of all fear

2007-12-19T04:03:00.000-08:00

Sister Mary Lisa invited anyone who would like to to write about the topic, If I were free of all fear. She intended for us to send her our essays and she could post them on her blog. I loved, loved her essay, so I decided to participate. But I also decided to post it on my own blog.

If I were free of all fear, I would...

get a tattoo, a big one, on my back. One that would be seen when I swim and wear strappy dresses and tank tops, because I can. One that would show my transition, my power, my self, without fear.

sky dive, to feel the thrill, to feel alive as my body is forced to tune in to every sensation.

just say it. Whatever it is.

announce my blog to my family, and say, guess what. This is me. Take it or leave it, but I’m just so sick of hiding.

tell everyone exactly why I hate the fuckin' church.

write. A book. A memoir. A children’s story. A novel.

dance when I felt like dancing. Dammit.

write what I’m really thinking, now.

surprise

2007-12-18T09:22:00.000-08:00

In a phone conversation with my dad, he brought up Carl Sagan.

"I always wondered," he said with a chuckle, "what Carl Sagan thought when he woke up on the other side. 'Oops, guess I was wrong [about the non-existence of an afterlife and god]!' "

"Huh," I said to let him know I was listening. But I was quite bothered by his comment.

"Can you imagine? What do people who didn't believe in God think when they die and see God? What are they going to do then? 'Well, now what?' Bit of a shock." He laughed some more.

And once again I was jarringly reminded that I am a closet atheist.

Sure, it's easy enough to tell a random neighbor, or a non-believing colleague, or DAMU friends, or post about it openly on my anonymous blog. But tell family? Mom and Dad?

The conversation with my dad made me realize not only that I've never discussed my new positions with him, but how very far I am from telling him. How do I tell him? Just squeeze it in to a Sunday evening telephone conversation? Write a letter?

I've really not felt compelled to announce my personal beliefs like that at all, actually. I never was comfortable with testimony-bearing when I was a Mormon, though the culture encourages open and frequent professions of belief. Personal beliefs should not be the subject of casual conversation or family newsletter announcements, in my opinion.

I suppose the Carl Sagan conversation would have been the perfect opportunity to let him know. Possible phrases skipped through my mind as I listened to him. "You know, Dad, I'm an atheist." "Actually, Dad, I really respect Sagan, and I find it rather rude to talk to him like that." "Um, Dad, Sagan wasn't off the mark in my opinion."

But he was talking about atheists so dismissively, so derisively. My dad is generally quite nice. He doesn't make fun of people or speak rudely. It's weird for me to use "derisive" to describe anything he ever said. But atheists, apparently, are unworthy of the normal respect with which he would talk about the dearly departed.

I found it too difficult to come out and tell him he might as well group me with the non-believers whom he so obviously derides. It didn't occur to me that maybe he was trying to pull me out of the non-believers' closet, throwing out some bait and seeing if I'd bite. I'd assumed that the word had gotten around that I was an atheist; apparently not.

After some deliberation of whether to speak up or not, I decided on a compromise. Rather than tell him what I thought, I told him what I thought Sagan would have thought had he woken up in an afterlife after all. We'd discusses Sagan's ideas on aliens a few months ago, so I jumped off from there.

"Well, maybe Carl Sagan would think the same way about God as he would about aliens. He'd be pleasantly surprised, excited, you know, to find any aliens. He just thinks there's not enough evidence to support that idea that we will contact any aliens. Maybe he'd think the same about God. Not enough evidence to believe, but still, he'd probably say, 'Oh, okay, cool!' if he woke up after dying. You know?" Which is what I think a lot of atheists would think. We don't disbelieve in God because we don't want an afterlife necessarily, we just think there's not enough evidence to believe in one. But if there is, all right, awesome, next great adventure, huh?

My dad laughed some more, but a pleasant laugh. "Huh, yeah, maybe. That could very well be true. Like the aliens. Ha!"

And I remained in hiding.

heaven, hell, and screaming latkes

2007-12-13T06:56:00.000-08:00

As anyone who’s read my blog for long knows, I am trying to raise my son without religion, while also being religiously literate and tolerant. The teaching-moments come up at odd times, or meet with resistance, or are forced upon us by religious relatives. They are full of significant baggage for me, but refreshingly free of it for him (so far). I’m basically going by the seat of my pants here, and it’s been going fine for the most part.

I had a couple teaching moments recently:

Listening to the radio in the car, my son heard the singer mention both heaven and hell.

“What’s heaven?” he asked.

I decided to go with a simple answer first, and see if he would be satisfied with it. “It’s the best place you could possibly imagine.”

“Oh,” he replied. That was easy enough.

"What’s hell?” he continued.

“It’s the worst place you could imagine,” I said.

“So…in hell, I would have no toys at all.”

“That’s what your hell would be like, huh?”

“Well, can you imagine having nothing? Nothing!?”

Earlier, at a bookstore, I was reading Little FTA a variety of children’s books. I saw one that explained the traditional Joseph, Mary, and Jesus Christmas story. I avoided it at first, but then picked it up. I thought if I read it to my son, I could expose him to the Baby Jesus story on my own terms, and we could talk about it, before he hears it from grandparents on Christmas Eve. But to my surprise, he refused to hear it. Just wasn’t interested. I tried to explain that it’s important to know what his grandparents think about Christmas, but he would have none of it. So instead, we read The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming and Knuffle Bunny Too and Wacky Wednesday and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

emotion

2007-12-12T05:46:00.000-08:00

I’ve got this emotion, this mood. I can’t quite identify it. I think I can’t identify it because I am emotionally unlearned, because of my Mormon upbringing where there were two emotions: of God and of Satan. Or maybe I’m just blaming that, and really, a lot of people are emotionally unaware and incapable, just like me.

Whatever the reason, I can’t decide what emotion it is and what to do about it. I tried counting. But by the time I get to seven or so, it boils up again, fierce in my chest. It makes my words bite at my son, and it makes me hide my eyes from my husband.

It’s not quite sadness, not quite anger, not quite discontent, not quite loneliness, not quite anything. But it is there. And it makes me want to scream. It’s one of those moods where I’d want to watch something depressing or hard or raw or violent or ruthless, like a realist war movie, or a tragedy, or a German movie, those ones that always end with everyone dying. You have to be in the mood to watch something like that, and this is that mood.

It makes me want to push the envelope. To leave my comfort zone and try something new, something reckless and scary and dangerous. Something that would have people saying, That doesn't seem like something she'd do.

Some people pick up a guitar and write sad songs in moods like this. Some sleep, or listen to music, or drive fast. Yeah, I want to drive fast. Too fast. That’s the mood I’m in. Make it feel like I’m driving away from it. Whatever it is. Some have a couple beers, or a cigarette or a joint. And I think, maybe I should do that. But no, I shouldn’t, that would only numb it, not confront it. Then I think of how many times I’ve ignored this emotion, or numbed it with prayer or scripture reading, and I figure those aren’t any better than chemical-induced numbing, are they, really? Anyway, I write. It’s the mood that pushes me to write. Which isn’t ignoring it; it’s confronting it, and that’s the best way to explore and tackle these things, I’ve found.

But what is it? What is it? I can’t tell.

I know what it’s not. It’s not what I grew up thinking it was. It’s not the absence of the Spirit. As a Mormon, I thought this mood, this feeling, any feeling like it, was the loss of the Spirit. And that meant I did something to make the Spirit go away. I did something bad. Something bad like swear, or have a mean thought about someone at school, or want something I shouldn’t have, or hit my brother. That’s what this was. It was my fault. My inability to be perfect--now. My fault. My own, ugly fault.

And to get rid of it, to get the Spirit back, I had to repent. To pray, to read scriptures more and more often, to ask forgiveness for being human. To obey, to sacrifice, to control my emotions, to put on a happy face, to pretend like everything is perfectly normal. Run away from the emotions, because they weren’t emotions, they were Satan trying to tempt me, to ruin me, to bring me to a miserable hell along with him.

From that, it’s taken some time to adjust to thinking of emotions as just emotions, as part of our humanness, our evolutionary biology. This down mood, this emotion I can’t name, it isn’t evil, though it is unpleasant. I wouldn’t want to stay here forever, but I don’t have to run away from it, to push it away as quick as possible, to ignore it or root it out. Instead, I explore it. I let it act as my muse, and look what it has gotten me.

A whole damn blog post.

my strange sense of humor

2007-12-11T04:55:00.000-08:00

When we found out my in-laws were to be out of town the weekend before Christmas, I was delighted. Not only would we have a weekend alone, but it would be the weekend of Winter Solstice. I've been wanting to celebrate Solstice for three years now, but haven't done anything more than light a candle. So with my in-laws gone, I mentioned to my husband that we could have our own little celebration, our style. He was in.

Then my mother-in-law said something about not going away for the weekend after all. In an indirect effort to get her to go like she planned, I piped up with a little humor.

"Well, we were planning on having a pagan winter solstice celebration that day, so...if you want to join us..."

The look on her face was precious. For her, the word "pagan" obviously has the unfortunate connotations of animal sacrifice and devil worship.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked.

I kept it fun. "Nope." I smiled.

"I just hope that celebration isn't happening at my house," she said, unsure about my tone.

"Well, Little FTA was really hoping to run naked around a bonfire..." I laughed.

"Ok-aaaaay...."

I left it at that, letting everyone think I was just being silly. And secretly hoping I'd scared her off to that weekend away after all.

we're happier than everyone else

2007-12-10T06:34:00.000-08:00

We got roped into attending a Baptist church's Christmas choir performance today, as my father-in-law was playing in the orchestra. Not our cup of tea, but we wanted to go at least to support him. You know, the "the relationship is most important" mantra I'm trying to use to negotiate this Mormon-EvilAtheist divide in the family.

I sat down with my already bad attitude about Christmas this year, wanting to just get this obligation over. And don't start thinking I'm foreshadowing to a big change of heart where I realized my inner love for Baptist Christmas music, either. 'Cause this ain't about that.

Recognizing my attitude, that I was there to fail to enjoy anything, I tried to soften up and just appreciate the music. Last year I would have appreciated it. I tried through "Go Tell It On The Mountain," and through "Angels We Have Heard on High" (which used to be my favorite Christmas hymn), and through a "Joy to the World" arrangement.

I kept reminding myself that it was just a religious celebration. Could've been Islamic recitations or Jewish singing or of any other tradition, and I would've appreciated it. But I just couldn't get into it. I couldn't get past the baggage. The Christianity. The history and traditions I have rejected.

Maybe if it had been only music and song, it would have been okay. But they had to throw in those proselytizing moments, too. Showing how wonderfully happy Baptists are above other Christians and those poor, lost scoffing non-believers. How Baptists have that special light, that special something-something people recognize in them, but can't quite put their finger on. It sounded all too familiar. The same attitude as a Mormon one, just presented in slightly different terminology.

That non-believer was not giving an substantial arguments, either. He was just a straw man, speaking nothing but what was easy to "answer."

"Nah, there's nothing after death. When you're dead, you're dead!"
"Oh, no! When we die, we got to heaven with Jesus! And we live there in His love forever."
"Oh, really? What was I thinking? Gosh, that'd be great to go to heaven. How do I get there?"

The killer was when the Christian-who-isn't-good-enough-because-he-only-attends-on-Christmas-and-Easter said there must be something to the Jesus story, since it's such an old story. "If people have been telling the story for 2000 years, it can't be just a fairy tale!" Wow, what an argument. 'Cause the story of Zeus? How old is that one? And how long were Egyptians worshiping Amon-Ra? And does that mean the Muhammad's story is only 600 years less of a fairy tale than Jesus'? So if you're going to judge by how old the religion is, should we all be embracing nature worship or something?

After that little proselytizing session, my husband and I were rolling our eyes and decided to sneak out with our son the first chance we got. And we did.

tis the season

2007-12-06T11:12:00.000-08:00

I'm rather ambivalent about Christmas this year. I'm almost ready to call myself a Scrooge or a Grinch. I am participating in the festivities, I am buying presents for people, I'm sending greeting cards (that do NOT say Merry Christmas), don't get me wrong. But I feel like all the Christmas around me is too overwhelming and I need to push back to give myself some breathing room.

Perhaps it's the fact that my in-laws over-decorate so much that it looks like Christmas exploded in the house. I'm drowning in Christmas wreaths and advent calendars and ornaments and nutcrackers and cutesy Santa Clauses and various items that for some reason picked up Christmas significance along the centuries but no one is sure why. (Some were stolen from Yule, of course.) And the nativity sets and the Christmas story books about Jesus that my son begs me to read every day.

Perhaps it's the fact that my son's school class is talking about nothing but Christmas. No Hanukkah, no Kwanzaa, no Yule or Solstice, no Festivus for the Rest of Us. Just Christmas, candy canes, snowmen, reindeer, Santa. At least it's the secular version of Christmas at school.

Last year, I didn't mind the secular version. It was so refreshing that a secular version of Christmas was available at all. I think part of that was because there was such diversity in our town, and in school, my son learned about all the holidays. His best friend, a child of secular Jews, invited him over to light Hanukkah candles one night and read him a secular version of the traditional story. So last year, I felt like we chose to celebrate Christmas, because that was our heritage. We celebrated at home, so we were able to keep Jesus out of it and do things our own way. I even ended up choosing to attend church services (a liberal Protestant church) on Christmas Eve.

This year, it feels more in my face, like Christmas is just pulling me along, whatever I think of it. Personally, I'd rather celebrate Yule and Solstice. But my son? The five year old? He LOVES Christmas, the presents, the festivities, the visiting-Santa-even-though-he's-just-pretend. I've been singing him Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer as a bedtime song all year, at his request. How can I say, "Hold up, dude, we're celebrating the longest night of the year and the return of the sun, mmkay? So no Santa this year"? The momentum of Christmas is a strong current, and I feel helpless in its wake. And that, I think, is why I'm resenting it this year.

2007-12-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, so this is kind of a cop out post, but I do find these search terms endlessly entertaining. And like Mormon Erotica pointed out once, they are like poetry.

lds library 2007
lds symbols of Christmas
good prayer lds
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child of record form lds

stories for tithing settlement
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mormon song love is spoken here
i see my mother kneeling mormons song
i see my mother kneeling mormons

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why fold arms pray

mormon
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mormon light skinned wholesome tribe

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why is ed decker mad at the mormon church?

underwear mormon right of passage
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pictures of mormon gay men without garments
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marie osmond immodest
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marie osmond exmormon

lds hot tub
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getting drunk in a hot tub

religion extrinsic motivation for morality
strongly disagree agree

depression lds
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mental health problems in the book of mormon
analogy of the bus of depression

crazy kids say
quotes on prepackaged identity teenagers
parenting religion
can a sip wine kill a kid

rituals ashes
native american rights to passage into adulthood

the theories and debates around the cattle killing
did the xhosa cattle killing really happen

obsession with coffee
too complicated to have simple labels
the letter i never sent you
what does marrakech mean
recovery from Christianity
losing friends quotes
from now onwards i shall get up a full hour
take no thought for tomorrow

emerging from the ashes
from the ashes
and from the ashes
emerging from

his dark materials

2007-11-30T05:31:00.000-08:00

Just before Thanksgiving, I finished reading the children's fantasy trilogy called His Dark Materials. The three books are called The Golden Compass (now a movie), The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass. I simply adored these books, and highly recommend them, for adults as well as kids. I am a big Harry Potter fan, but I liked these books more than Harry Potter. For me, who waited in lines at midnight to get book 7 and to watch movie 5, this is saying something. (No, I did not dress up.) Maybe I'll share my ideas on Rowling, death, and agnosticism later, but right now, I want to gush about The Amber Spyglass.

I don't want to give too much away for anyone who wants to read these books for themselves, but I will say this. One of the main plots involved killing god. That idea hit me like lightning. I've heard Nietzsche's ideas on god being dead, and I've written before about how I felt like I killed Heavenly Father when I left Mormonism. At the time, I grieved about that symbolic death of a mythical figure. But when I came across the idea in these books, it thrilled me. I couldn't wait to see how it played out.

The books also deal with souls, death, evolution, friendship, love, the fall, sexuality and original sin, the institutional church, church-leaving, deceit, character. The Church is a bad element; childhood innocence as well as maturity and sexual awareness are celebrated; the heroes and heroines are multi-faceted and capable of both "good" and "bad."

These are some of my favorite bits at the end of The Amber Spyglass:

"'The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that's all.'" (Mary, p. 441)

"'Was it hard to leave the church?' said Will.

'In one way it was,[' answered Mary, ']because everyone was so disappointed. Everyone, from the Mother Superior to the priests to my parents--they were so upset and reproachful...I felt as if something they all passionately believed in depended on me carrying on with something I didn't.

'But in another way it was easy, because it made sense. For the first time ever I felt I was doing something with all of my nature and not only a part of it. So it was lonely for a while, but then I got used to it.'" (p. 446)

"'When you stopped believing in God,' he went on, 'did you stop believing in good and evil?'

'No, but I stopped believing there was a power of good and a power of evil that were outside us. And I came to believe that good and evil are names from what people do, not for what they are. All we can say is that this is a good deed, because it helps someone, or that's an evil one, because it hurts them. People are too complicated to have simple labels.'

'Yes,' said Lyra firmly.

'Did you miss God?' asked Will.

'Yes,' said Mary, 'terribly. And I still do. And what I miss most is the sense of being connected to the whole of the universe. I used to feel I was connected to God like that, and because he was there, I was connected to the whole of his creation. But if he's not there, then...'" (p. 447)

"That was the meaning of this night, and it was Mary's meaning, too.

Had she thought there was no meaning in life, no purpose, when God had gone? Yes, she had thought that.

'Well, there is now,' she said aloud, and again, louder, 'There is now!'" (p. 452)

"'She [an angel, Xaphania] said that all the history of human life has been a struggle between wisdom and stupidity. She and the rebel angels, the followers of wisdom, have always tried to open minds; the Authority and his churches have always tried to keep them closed....And for the most part, wisdom has had to work in secret, whispering her words, moving like a spy through the humble places of the world while the courts and palaces are occupied by her enemies.'" (p. 479)

(Thank you to hotmomama and her kids for recommending these books to me.)

an allergic reaction

2007-11-29T14:10:00.000-08:00

Last week just as we drove over the border into Utah, I shuddered involuntarily.

"What?" my husband asked.

"Utah," I answered.

"Ah." He understood.

"It's like my desire for a tattoo shoots through the roof as soon as I get into the state."

crazy stuff (Mormon) kids say

2007-11-26T20:28:00.000-08:00

"Do you know who saved Baby Sister's life? Me. 'Cause I was the one who prayed when Mom was bleeding when Baby Sister was in her tummy. I said a prayer, and she was fine. I saved her life."

Never mind the doctors. Never mind biology. Never mind that there were only two possible outcomes, and had it been the other one, they wouldn't have blamed him for saying the prayer that didn't save the fetus. Never mind that if god really did intervene, it would have been god who saved the life, not the prayer-giver.

"There was a hurricane, but we said a prayer and it turned the other way and missed us."

And would the hurricane have turned away anyway? What about all the people who prayed for the hurricane to miss them, too, but it flattened their houses anyway? Are they not good prayer-givers? Did they lack the faith it required?

"Jesus said tattoos are bad. You shouldn't get tattoos."

Really? I don't remember reading that anywhere in the scriptures.

And the craziest thing? They're saying this shit in front of my son.

Like this little gem he reported to us:

"They said, 'We felt an earthquake, but we said a prayer, so the earthquake stopped.'"

We turned that into a skeptics' teaching moment. "Well, let's think about that," I said. "If they had not said a prayer, would that earthquake ended in a few seconds anyway?"

"Yes."

"Earthquakes are about geology, about the shape of the earth, the earth moving. How is a prayer going to change that?"

"It's not. And besides, if god is way up in space," he wondered, "how is he supposed to stop the earth from shaking?" He's really been into this idea that heaven is up in space somewhere.

"Know what I think? I think saying a prayer during an earthquake or a hurricane helps them feel not scared. There are a lot of things in the world we can't control, and saying prayers and thinking that god is helping them out makes them feel safer and more in control."

Sigh. I guess my son has to learn to negotiate through this kind of thing, and on his own, too, since I won't be there every time someone brings up something believing. So far, he's been polite enough to not say, "But god is just pretend!" when god is mentioned in conversation. Today, though, I saw his face when someone recited a poem about god making this and that. Oh, his face was precious. Disbelieving and sassy, as if he was thinking, "Oh, these people! How silly of them!" But he held his tongue.

That made me smile, but really, I don't want him to be condescending to believers. I want him to be sympathetic, polite, and respectful. Which is why I explained that praying makes people feel safer in scary situations, instead of just leaving it at "Yup, aren't they silly for thinking a few words to a pretend friend in the sky will change the nature of the earth?"

as if that was all it takes

2007-11-24T22:11:00.000-08:00

Sister: hangs up phone

FTA: Who was that?

Sister: [Our brother].

FTA: What'd he say?

Sister: The baby blessing is a week from Sunday at nine.

FTA: Ah. I'd probably even go to church for that.

Sister: Oh, yeah?

FTA: At least until after the blessing. laughs

Sister: laughs But you'll be out of town by then.

FTA: Yeah.

Sister: teasing Well, I'll call him back and tell him you'd come, and he'll call mom and tell her and then they'd change it to tomorrow so you could be there.

FTA: Right, so I could maybe feel the Spirit and come back!

Sister: laughs The sad thing is that it's probably true that they'd think that.

FTA: Yep, they totally would.

what women know

2007-11-19T15:23:00.000-08:00

I commented before about the 1950's-era talk given in LDS general conference recently, and how people criticizing it got a slap on the wrist, as it were, in subsequent church meetings. The church can believe and teach what it wants, but in teaching the kinds of things about women (and men) that the church is teaching, they are ignoring what women (and men) really are. And therefore hurting them, even the very people who want to be Mormon.

Well, people are stepping up and have written a response. It's beautiful and powerful, and it shows that a lot of Mormon women--faithful, liberal, and ex--are thinking, and not just obeying blindly. It takes guts for faithful Mormon women and men to sign their names, at the risk of church discipline, and I applaud them. They are seeking signatures from people who can show their support in that manner (I know there are many reasons to be anonymous on the web, both the 'nacle and the DAMU).

I added my name. Check it out.

garment memories

2007-11-15T05:05:00.000-08:00

I sifted through some archives from the old foyer, finding some posts I wrote, oh, so long ago, as I was transitioning out of the church.

When I took off my garments (the date I now consider my anniversary of leaving: General Conference weekend of April 2005), I was terribly conflicted about it. This is what I wrote:

"I bought new underwear today--at Target, not at Beehive Clothing. But I'm feeling really conflicted, jumping from one world view (no one can tell me what kind of underwear to wear) and the mormon world view (I've made a convenant and will be damned now; I should just obey and hope I'll understand someday). I'm thinking maybe I wasn't ready. But will I ever be ready? Is this conflicted-ness just a part of it? Should I go back to Jesus jammies and wait until I've completely lost hope that there's any significance to garments besides Joe's magical world view, being a part of a select, secret group, etc, etc?

I should also note that my husband also changed out of his garments today too. He felt ready. He is not conflicted. He has reasons that work for him. He was waiting for me to be ready (not giving pressure), and I didn't want to hold him back. We made a day of it, even our toddler got new big boy pants (his first, starting potty training [Ack!]). I guess I don't want my reason to stop wearing garments is that my husband was ready. But if it's not going to be any easier later, why wait?"

Someone commented that there is no actual temple covenant to wear garments; it is just expected. So taking them off is not actually breaking a covenant. I replied:

"Actually, that nitpicking does help. I feel less like I'm breaking a covenant when now I realize I didn't even make it. (I never did any initatories for the dead--once was enough.) And I understand the concept that we didn't really make covenants when 1) we didn't even know what covenants we would be making until the moment of making them, 2)we really had no choice to make them (has anyone ever seen anyone actually stand up and leave at the point the officiator asks?), and 3) we didn't know what they really even meant."

I later added:

"I've been in and out of G's the past week (I had some regular underwear handy even before the Target trip). One day I wanted to wear a short-ish shirt and some low-rise pants, but my garment tops showed in the middle. So I found a [garment] top that was short and let my belly peep through a bit. It felt quite good and liberating. But I was also paranoid about seeing any Mormon buddies (quite a few live near by). DH thought I had just gone "spiritually topless" and asked me if I'd been hit by a train while I was out. It's incredible (and ludicrous) the thoughts that come to my head...that something bad will happen w/o the G's. Duh. I don't believe in amulets and protective hexes and things (expect for a placebo affect in some cases), and yet I believed in garments. And, yes, normal underwear is way sexier."

That first weekend when I changed out of garments, I wore them for church the next day. But then took them off again in the afternoon when it was hot outside. The next day was the day my mom found out I was questioning. I stood there on the phone with her, feeling awful and guilty and oh-so-naked wearing my evil underpants as she told me I was being deceived by the devil. I felt dirty and exposed. She didn't know I didn't have garments on, but I felt like my body was screaming it out loud enough for her to know through the phone. After the conversation, I put garments back on and felt comforted. Ah, the power of those ugly underclothes. I took them off again that night, and have never worn them since.

in which Mormonism is conspicuously absent

2007-11-13T09:28:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning for a while to comment on the section on my sidebar called "On the world, in which Mormonism is conspicuously absent." Most of the other lists of books in my sidebar include books on Mormon history, culture, theology, etc., all books I personally read during my exit process. The exception is "further reading," which includes books I've read since transitioning to my post-Mormon world that I found were relevant to my adjustment and understanding the mindrape that was Mormonism.

The "conspicuously absent" section, then, are books I read just before my world view collapsed, or only shortly thereafter, when I was still reeling from the collapse. Now, it's been two to three years since I read those books, so I don't remember all the details, but a few comments on a couple of them is in order.

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, by Jared Diamond
This book discusses major societies in each continent, their developments, and conjectures why they developed, or in some cases, why the didn't. Geography and environment are big factors in the fates of human societies, as are domesticatibility of animals and plants.

and

A Short History of Nearly Everything, by Bill Bryson
This one is an easy read (Bryson is normally a comedic travel writer), and gives some funny and interesting histories from science, from the primordial gunk that was first life, to modern theories and debates.

Very interesting in themselves but why did they affect me and my transition out of the church?

There are no Lamanites in these books.

No Nephites, no Hebrews building ships to sail to the Americas. No indication whatsoever, no blip on the screen, no unanswered questions about how a certain group of people just suddenly showed up in South America. The traditional Mormon view of how the New World was populated is 100% beneath the attention of the authors and all the anthropology, geology, paleontology, archeology, geography, linguistics, and biology that they mold together to tell the history of the Americas and the world.

Years before, that would have not worried me. I would have brushed it off as persecution (they know we have the truth, but their scientists repress it; it's all a part of Satan's plan to confuse people and fight against Heavenly Father) or ignorance (they just haven't heard the true history yet; we need to get those missionaries out there to soften their hearts).

But since I read these books when I did, when my mind was more open and doubting, they struck me like a ton of bricks.

Mormonism is insignificant in the world.

Heart of Redness, by Zakes Mda
This is the fictional story of a modern Xhosa village and how their history of the Xhosa Cattle Killing (a real life event) affects them. The Cattle Killing occurred in the 19th century in South Africa. Two young girls, who would most likely be diagnosed with schizophrenia in today's world, were treated as prophetesses visited by spirits in the 19th Xhosa village. One of their prophecies was that the Xhosa, whose entire livelihoods were keeping cattle, must kill all their cattle in order to defeat the white people and make those damn colonists just go away. If all the Xhosa people would kill their cattle, ships of powerful warriors would come from the sea to help defeat the whites. Some people believed the girls, and killed their cattle and waited. And waited. And waited for those ships to come. They never came. The believers blamed the non-believers for not killing their cattle too. Whites took power and eventually formed the apartheid government. In the fictional part of the story, set in a coastal village, a group of people resurrect the cattle killing story, forming a cult of believers who again wait and wait and wait for the coming of the ships.

Having been raised with the story of Jesus and the Second Coming, I couldn't help but see parallels. Once upon a Mormon world view, I would have interpreted this story to be an echo of the One True Story, proof that all societies once knew about Jesus. Instead, I saw Jesus and the waiting and waiting and waiting for the Second Coming to be just as ridiculous as half of this village relying on the voices of a couple schizophrenic girls from 150 years previous. They differ in time frame and scale, and Jesus, if he existed, probably wasn't schizophrenic (at least I haven't heard any theories like that), but all the same, it was a serious blow to my belief in a Second Coming.

my boy, the skeptic

2007-11-12T04:52:00.000-08:00

While driving in the car with my son in the back, I listened to him matter-of-factly tell me his thoughts on heaven.

"You see, people said God lives in the clouds. But then they built airplanes and flew up there and saw that there's no God there. So then they said God lives out in space. But then they built rocket ships and flew up in outer space. And guess what."

"What?"

"No God there either."

leaving is hard

2007-11-10T06:56:00.000-08:00

My friend responded to my email about leaving with surprise that it would be hard to leave the church. It just had never occurred to her. So I speculated about why.

Oh, I also wanted to say that I had never considered that it would be hard to leave, either. Maybe this is partly because the three most common reasons listed within the church for people who leave are "they were offended; they wanted to sin or they sinned and were feeling unworthy; and they were lazy." Doesn't sound difficult.

In fact, these reasons are grossly inaccurate. Of all the people I have interacted with since leaving (and that's a lot of people), very, very few of them are captured in those reasons. For most people who actually leave the church or stop believing (as opposed to "jack Mormons" who still believe but just don't practice for a variety of reasons), the main reason is that they simply don't believe the church's claims. "Simply not believing" may sound simple, too, I guess. But it's not.

transitions and non-religious upbringing

2007-11-08T06:26:00.000-08:00

This is from a email I sent recently to a Mormon friend who asked how I was handling things with Little FTA, and how he transitioned out of the church.

As for Little FTA...He was almost 3 when we stopped attending church. So he'd been to nursery, but never primary. In nursery, he didn't get much religious-training, since the nursery in our ward was more about making sure the wilder kids weren't beating up the others. But other than that, we prayed with him before meals, showed him pictures of Jesus, I told him "remember Jesus" during the sacrament, we celebrated Christmas as the birth of Jesus, etc.

As we left, it never, ever occurred to me that we would stop being religious or stop being Christians. So as we stopped attending the LDS ward, we started shopping around to other churches, and we took Little FTA with us. We went to Catholic, Islamic, Episcopalian, Quaker, Unitarian Universalist, and Congregationalist churches. The UU was easily the most comfortable for me, so that's where we went most often the summer after leaving (the last time we went to the ward was April, '05). Little FTA being still quite young, he was more interested in how fun the playtime was at church. Most churches either don't have children's classes during the main meeting at all, or had a separate nursery during the main meeting. So he preferred the places he could play with toys, of course, which meant the UU and the Quaker. He loved it also when the UU meeting had a special Children's Sermon at the beginning; it made him feel special to go up front and have the pastor speak directly to the children. But for some reason, he hated the UU nursery teachers, and started to protest about going. By the end of the summer, it also became apparent to me that my husband was more fond of staying home on Sundays than going to meetings, so I started to go alone. Not every week, just every once in a while when I felt like it. Once grad school started, though, I found I was too busy most of the time, and preferred to spend my time on fun outings with my husband and son. A walk in the woods on a Sunday became just as satisfying to me as a church meeting. Since then, whenever I ask Little FTA if he wants to come to UU with me, he says no, and I don't push it. I did take him to a Christmas Eve service last year, at the congregationalist church where our exmo friends have attended. He enjoyed seeing his friends in the nativity play, and the dog and goat that were part of the production. But the rest was lost on him, and I'm okay with that.

At first, I was really concerned about finding a replacement church and a religious community in which to raise my son. I couldn't conceive of a moral upbringing without religion. I mentioned this to a Mormon friend of mine who is married to a man who was raised atheist (and still is). It made sense to her, but then she brought it up once when we were all together, her husband included. As she said it, it struck me that here this man was, a great person, a wonderful husband, a perfectly moral, ethical man, who had been raised without religion. And I knew it was possible, and that religion was not necessary to being good.

Little FTA hasn't missed church, though there have been a couple moments where I could see he was making the transition. Once, a few weeks after we stopped attending, when we were walking around a Divinity School lawn, I told him what people there do (learn about Jesus, etc). He said, "I don't know who Jesus is." It struck me profoundly, certainly more profoundly than he meant it, and I answered simply, "I don't either, Little FTA. I don't know either." I was having major doubts about the divinity of Jesus at the time.

I want Little FTA to be aware of religion and religious traditions, though, and he's freely asked questions about his Jewish/Christian/Muslim friends, and understands that some people do this or that because of their different religions. I tell him Greek myths, Bible stories, etc., all with the same attitude: they are old stories that try to teach us something. Holidays are the same; Christians do this, Jews do that, there's also Yule and Kwanzaa, etc., and isn't it fun?

He's still a little confused about some details, but he's young yet. For example, he thinks "grandma and grandpa don't drink coffee because they believe in God." I correct him on such things, but don't push it. I have no problem with his religious education coming later rather than sooner. We will not allow him to be baptized into any religion until he's an adult and can make his own decision if he likes. We will make him aware why we've chosen not to be Mormon, but that he also needs to be respectful to his relatives who are. For example, we tell him he need not participate in relatives' meal prayers, but he does need to be quiet during them.

He's really, really into science, and questions about where he came from and what happens when he dies come up--and he's perfectly at ease with the scientific answers, at least so far. He thinks it's great, for example, that the hydrogen molecules in his body were present 14 billion years ago at the Big Bang ("I'm 14 billion and 5 years old!") and that when things die, their bodies "return to the earth and fall apart into lit bits" and those molecules will be around in the universe until the end of the universe. When I read him children's stories that imply a heaven or afterlife, and he asks, "What does that mean?" I explain how we always remember people who die, in our heads and in our hearts, so in those moments, it's like they are with us again, and how some people call that heaven, and some people think that there is a heaven, too, where people really are when they die. Currently, he doesn't believe in God, and I'm okay with that for now, but when he's older, I'd like to him really explore the options. I could see myself taking him to UU services, for example, because I really like their youth program. For one year, when they are teenagers, they learn about a bunch of other religions and take the youth to those churches so they really know their options. I like that a lot. UU is also really good about helping people find their own spiritual path rather than defining the right one for them, and people in the congregation range from atheists to theists, Jewish, Christian, pagan.

Whoa, I've gone on for a while, haven't I? I guess I needed the chance to clarify these things in my own head, so thanks for asking the question! We've been making it up as we go along, really, as I think most parents handle a lot of things.

my version, at least

2007-11-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

I recently had an old Mormon friend ask my what humanism was, as I'd listed it as my "religious views" on a networking site. Humanists define their own meaning, and I am still in the process of defining my version. This is what I answered.

Humanism. Hmm. I'm probably not the best person to ask, I haven't studied it that much. But since leaving the church, I found my approach to life and beliefs are pretty much in line with humanism--that there is no god, that humans are responsible for improving the world with an emphasis on using reason, improving knowledge, fighting for social justice, and environmentalism; that bad stuff happens because of human foibles and natural workings of the earth. I don't know that that would be the definition you'd find on a humanism website, but that's sort of how I put it in a nutshell. It's humanist as opposed to theist. I realize that to some theists humanist thinking seems pompous or conceited, in a "relying on the arm of flesh" kind of way, but when approached from the idea that there is no god, it's what makes the most sense to me right now.

For a while after leaving, I still held onto Christian thinking, as many people do, without believing in the actual divinity of Jesus. But I'm not too keen on the basic paradigm that Christianity espouses: that humans are "fallen" and in need of redemption, and that people have a savior to solve their problems. I prefer the more humanist approach, that people have it in our power to improve our world. I know Christians are perfectly capable of taking it in their own hands to improve the world--many, many have--I just mean that for me, it's been healthier to approach life from a different paradigm. I care more about the world and doing something about it, doing my part, than I did before. Make sense?

And in a old post, I wrote this in response to a comment. Since hardly anyone will go back and read it, and since it fits this post, too, I'm bringing it up here.

I agree that humans _can be_ stupid, greedy, and immoral. Hence many of the world's problems (eg, not Satan). Humans _can_ also be unselfish, hard-working, and good. I don't believe humans are either inherently good or bad; they are inherently very intelligent animals with the capibility to ask themselves "Am I good? Is this action moral? Why do I exist? What is my purpose in life?"

I have no doubt, nor did my post assert that, Christians are bad people. Christianity creates one way of many of approaching the world and the questions above. It's simply not for me. I became a better person outside of Christianity; I did not say that would be true of everyone or that everyone should abandon it. And I do not fault my friends who decide to accept that paradigm.

[The commenter asked me if I was prepared to give up my possessions]: As for possessions and the rest of the world: I am not ignorant of the world. I have lived abroad in one of the poorest countries in the world, lived very simply (and live more simply than the average American), and saw poverty, malnutrition, and other deprivations at every turn. I just don't think that's because the Fall or Satan's temptations, etc. It's more about environment, politics, economics, social problems (including parts of religion), human foibles, etc. In this way, I am a humanist and not a Christian. I will not attribute social ills to the supernatural, nor will I hope that a supernatural being will fix them all. Humans are responsible both for the problems and the solutions.

losing friends

2007-11-03T10:11:00.000-07:00

An old Mormon friend of mine asked me why some old friends who left the church won't return emails and phone calls. There's the desire the keep up the friendship, but the faithful/exmo divide seemed insurmountable. This is what I replied.

I'm really sorry to hear about your lost friendships. That really bites. I've been trying to get my thoughts together on what to say, but, of course, I don't know your friends and why they haven't kept in touch. I do know, though, that it is a very difficult transition.

Especially in the case of your gay friend, I would guess, there's a lot of negative baggage associated with all things Mormon. For me, leaving was like my house fell down around me, and adjusting to "post-Mormon" life is like a major renovation. I've had to sift through the rubble, throwing out stuff I find harmful, and trying to preserve the stuff I want to keep. I became very inward-focused for a while, neglecting my relationships with others, so I could concentrate on my own upheaval. Not on purpose, it's just what happened.

I think there's also a tendency among us leavers to cut off everything church-related, including faithful Mormon friends, in order to come to grips with our new selves, redefine our selves and goals, and move on. I think it's an effort of self-preservation, really, where everything is just so overwhelming. If your friends are anything like me, it's just more comfortable and easier to be friends with fellow ex-Mormons, people who understand us and have been through similar things. More than anyone right now, they are "my people." I am, and I bet your friends are, trying to repair relationships and negotiate how to be friends across those barriers. It's tough.

In addition, many of us fear that faithful Mormon friends are hoping to get us back in the church, or will simply misunderstand us, or will want lengthy explanations (or worse, debates or fights) when we may not be prepared to dredge all the emotions and reasons up again. (Don't worry, I don't feel that with this email exchange.) We also fear that our Mormon friends will judge us, like you said, or cut us off. While I haven't lost any good friends, I've certainly lost church acquaintances and people whom I thought were friends. Partly because we stopped attending church and activities, and partly because (it seems) they were afraid of us. Ouch.

I don't know if that helps you understand your friends a little better or not. Just my thoughts. I'd say, try again. Be explicit. If it were me, I'd prefer my friend to just come out and say, "Listen, I feel like our different religious choices have gotten in the way of our friendship, and I think that bites. I want to be friends with you. What can we do about it?" Everyone is more comfortable once the elephant in the room has been acknowledged; it may cause some awkwardness at first, but it's worth getting past it by just talking about it directly.

baby pressure

2007-10-26T05:53:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine wondered

Maybe the reason the church tells you to pop them out early is because at that point you're still young and naive, and haven't had time to fear it.

This is definitely the spirit in which I had my son. Way too fast, way too young. And we had even been married for years by the time I had him! I've had people at grad school ask me, "Um, I don't mean to be offensive, but was he planned?"

"Yes, he was," I say. "We were just young and crazy."

I remember feeling the push to bear children while I was at BYU living in married housing. The people without kids were referred to strangely enough as "single people." They were outside the social circles, never quite accepted. The ones with kids had nothing to say to them. I felt like I was getting really old and had waited way too long to get pregnant when I was 21 and had been married for about a year.

When I became pregnant while living there, I didn't tell anyone. I was rebelling against that system of motherhood-is-everything. When I started showing, though, at about 16 weeks, damn my belly, I was suddenly in the in-crowd. Oh, goodie me. The women really had nothing else to talk about but babies and scrapbooking; those were the only issues on which they talked and connected. Even then, I hated that culture, and felt relieved that we moved out of there before the baby was born. Not a single one of my new "friends" tried to follow up when the baby was born. I was in a different ward, you see, all the way down the street.

free speech in Mormonism

2007-10-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

I haven't commented on Julie Beck's recent LDS General Conference talk that told women that homemaking, nurturing, and house chores are their highest calling. Aspiring to have a life outside the home is apparently ungoddess-like, and while I, as a faithful Mormon, aspired anyway, I always felt very conflicted about it. It wasn't until I was out of Mormonism that I was actually comfortable with pursuing my master's degree with the idea that I'd actually get a full-time job afterward.

Anyway, many Mormon people in various stages of faith and non-belief have spoken up about Beck's talk since that first weekend in October. Since then, Boyd Packer, one of the church's highest leaders, has made comments that appear to chastise the women and men who have criticized the seemingly 1950's-era talk. Packer quoted a scripture that basically called the critics (both faithful and exmo) "children of disobedience" and "servants of sin." (The scripture's context appears to me to be regarding people accusing Joseph of polygamy, but never mind that for now.)

Hellmut over at Main Street Plaza has written a more extensive post than I have, and I want to bring attention to it. Every Mormon, faithful, doubting, ex-, or post- should have the right to speak freely, even if that means criticizing leaders, their opinions, policies, and doctrine. Period.

that's a bad word

2007-10-23T11:07:00.001-07:00

My brother-in-law, S, and I were driving with his four kids and my one kid in his car. We went over a little hill in the road, and his 3-year old, C, piped up with, "Whoa, my penis feels funny!" S and I snickered a little. I had heard stories about C's current curiosity with body parts, like most little kids.

Then from the back, I heard my son whisper, "C, that's a bad word" and giggle.

I've never taught him that anatomically correct words are "bad words," and I don't want him keeping that idea, either, wherever he picked it up. I, for one, didn't have any words for certain female anatomy when I was a kid, and that silence contributed to my ignorance. I didn't know about vaginas until I was in high school health class, and even then, I didn't pay attention because I was so embarrassed. About my own body.

So I explained, "No, honey, that's not a bad word. It's just a word for a body part. Like ear, or nose, or foot." From the driver's seat, S laughed and whispered something about how a penis is different, but I tried to ignore him. I continued explaining to my son, "It's just that saying penis might make some people uncomfortable, like at school. Some places it's inappropriate to say it, but it's not bad."

Encouraged, my son joined in the refrain, "My penis feels funny! My penis feels funny!" until I said that's enough and S tried to distract them with "Name that farm animal feces smell!" as we drove through the farmland and orchards.

Later, when we met up with S's wife, A, my son happened to hear her say on the phone, "I'm gonna kick his ass!" My son immediately turned to C and whispered, "Hey, C, your mom just said 'kick his ass.' Isn't that funny? That means kick his butt."

"Honey, you can't say that word at school, okay?" I told him.

"It's a bad word?" he asked.

"Well...it's a word only for grown-ups, all right?"

"Okay," he answered, giggling.

carded

2007-10-22T05:14:00.000-07:00

When I go out to get a couple drinks, I get carded. More so than other people. Maybe it's my innocent-looking, ethnically Mormon face (supposing there is such a thing). Maybe it's my younger-than-I-actually-am look I inherited from my mom. Seriously, she looks young. We have this family picture from years ago, and if you look at her face alone, you could easily guess she was 15. Except that she's surrounded by five kids.

Once when I walked into a bar to meet a couple girlfriends, I got carded at the door. Then when I ordered my drink at the table, I got, "Um, I'm going to need to see some ID from you." I thought nothing of it, and handed over my card. When the waitress left, though, my girlfriends immediately started teasingly protesting. They hadn't gotten carded at all! And one of them was four years younger than me.

The other day, I got carded again at an Oktoberfest. The gray-haired woman checking IDs looked at my card, then at me, at the card again, then back at me. She smiled and said, "Honey, you're going to be getting carded until you're 50!" I laughed, sure I don't want to look 20 when I'm 50.

There is a situation in which I am never carded, though. If I got out to dinner with my family--my husband, my son, and me--and order a drink, the staff never bothers to card me. I guess they figure someone with a five-year-old kid is old enough to have a drink. Hell, anyone with a five-year-old kid needs a drink.

invitations have started

2007-10-19T10:30:00.000-07:00

I've had a couple invitations to attend church with my relatives this summer, but now the invitations to church activities have started. A Relief Society craft night here, a Halloween party there. Luckily, I've had other plans during these particular activities, and so was able to decline politely and easily.

But what's the matter with going to church activities? Would I go? Would I not go? And why? (I'm asking myself these questions, though I'd love to hear your points of view.) First off, I don't want to go because it's the church. Yes, I still think the church is a sick institution and I don't want to support it even with my casual attendance at a church activity. If it were something important, like a funeral or a wedding reception (of course not the wedding itself; I'm not invited ever again, now am I?), I would be okay with attending it in a church building. Second, the activities aren't fun or interesting or stimulating to me, and I don't have any good friends there to catch up with.

Third, I can't help be think that I'm being invited not because they'd think I enjoy it or because they want my company, but because they think it'll help me, even if only a little bit, come back to the church. As in, "See what nice and friendly people we are? See what fun activities we have? The church can't be a bad place if we are such good people!" As in, "Maybe she'll feel the Spirit again." As in, "Something is fundamentally wrong with your life, and I'm going to do every little thing I can to fix it."

Maybe they don't think that. Maybe I should be a little more forgiving. Maybe attending a function now and then would help sooth the relationship, help them be a little more comfortable with my current position. But remembering back to when I was a devout Mormon, how I used to think, I would have seen any "inactive" coming to any function as a step in the right direction--back to the church. Not as a "fine, I'll do it for the sake of the relationship," not as a "I thought the activity would be fun," but as a return to the fold. So why would I lead my relatives on like that now?

no more hiding

2007-10-15T20:46:00.000-07:00

This last weekend, we went to a dinner concert with my in-laws. A whole hour before the concert was set aside for people to eat, drink, and mingle. We got all dressed up, and my husband and I went a bit earlier than his parents so we could have a little time alone with the open bar. The very presence of alcoholic drinks apparently keeps my in-laws away from the eating and mingling.

When the parents showed up, I had just finished my drink, and my red-stained glass was still in front of me. My husband's cup was still half-full of Cabernet.

So, there it is. Not only do they know we drink (I think they suspected it before), but we drank in front of them. It was, hmm...no big deal. To us, anyway. I wouldn't know how they felt about it, seeing as they didn't say anything. And I doubt they ever will.

The reason I suspect they know we drink is because I was drunk and extra loud and expressive one evening in their hot tub a couple years ago. I was too drunk to realize how loud I was, and my mother-in-law looked at me a little weird, but I'm not sure how familiar she is with drunkenness. And I was too drunk to care and really be aware. She eventually left, and I regaled the rest of the group with exactly what I had had to drink that night, still in a loud voice. I didn't realize how loud until I left to get a glass of water, and could hear the hot tub group from the kitchen--the opposite side of the house. My in-laws bedroom is right next to the hot tub. So I'm sure they heard all about my drinks, but everyone in the tub with me had thought it so funny to see me drunk that they didn't try very hard to shush me.

The next time I got that drunk was this summer, and I drunk-dialed Sideon along with Christy and smoked a clove cigarette. Ahem. There, I admitted it. First and last cigarette.

baggage

2007-10-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

The other day I turned on the TV to find an afternoon cartoon for my son. The TV was tuned to some random channel, and a woman was on telling the story of Samuel from the Hebrew Bible to a group of children. "And Samuel said, 'Here I am, Lord'."

I immediately tensed up. I bristled at the thought of my son hearing that story about god talking to a boy. It could have been any Bible, story, though, and I still would have gone on the defensive. I turned the channel as quickly as possible. To me, that TV show represented the literalist religious tradition I have rejected, as well as the figurative or mythological tradition I have rejected as the standard and origin for morals. To me, the Bible is baggage.

I realized a second later that had it been a religious story from anything outside of Judeo-Christian tradition, I wouldn't have cared. Because to him, the Bible could just be another old book, a collection of stories and sayings about a people and how they see themselves relating to god. I shouldn't keep him from it any more than I should keep him from Hindu scripture or the Koran or Greek stories or Confucian writings. It could have been any Bible story, Celtic myth, fairy tale, Rwandan origin myth, etc. To him, it's all the same. Stories about gods, origins, history, and pre-scientific ways, and oftentimes just fun ways, of explaining the world and human interactions. None more correct or privileged than the next.

What freedom.

on parenting and religion

2007-10-09T07:54:00.000-07:00

I frequently think about how to raise my son, since I was raised believing Mormon things and want him to have a broader, more critical and open mindset than I did. I recently had an email exchange with a fellow ex-Mormon mother about how we handle teaching our kids about religion. The following is from my emails:

"With regards to kids, it's difficult, isn't it? We want our son to be aware why we left Mormonism, but we also want him to be kind and respectful to our families. So far, we've done the bare minimum, like ask him to be quiet while family says dinner prayers. We've also explained why the family prays, and why we think that's, frankly, silly. Why say thank you to an invisible "god" when you know perfectly well that it was the earth, the sun, the water, the farmers, pickers, truckers, and grocers that brought us the food? Isn't it rude to forget them? He's also been really into science, which we encourage, because of the critical thinking it requires. He knows about Big Bang and evolution, so if he hears the Bible creation story, he'll recognize it as just a story. I think literature and art could have a similar effect, of broadening kids' mind to the varieties of human experience.

In all, we rarely talk to our son about religion, and we never take him to any church at all. We think he's just too young, and he doesn't like it anyway. We've never let family take him to church or activities, either, and we've asked them to avoid religious talk around him. If religion is idiotic and harmful--and I think it is, in many ways--I have no problem letting my son see that. I don't think religion and beliefs automatically deserve our respect and deference simply because they are religion and beliefs.

I didn't mean to say we protect him from religion, we just haven't had any interest in going to church right now, and he hates going, so we haven't bothered. He's had a lot of exposure to Islam abroad, the call the prayer, etc., and having friends who are Muslim, secular Jewish, devout Catholic, Mormon, etc. So religion does come up, and we discuss it with him. We talk about different people doing different things because of religions tradition--fasting at Ramadan, lighting candles at Hanukkah, wearing head scarves, etc. I also tell him stories from the Bible, so he'll be "Bible literate," but I tell them like they are mythology, just like Greek myths, African myths, Chinese myths, etc. I think it's very valuable to have that exposure. As he gets older, it will come up more, too, I'm sure."

I also want my son to be respectful of people, whether religious or not, and while he doesn't have to agree with their beliefs, he should be sympathetic to people. I'm still figuring out how to teach that--being both critical and sympathetic. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out how to achieve that myself.

anniversary

2007-10-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

Wow. It's been a year of emerging from the ashes. The year has been good for me. I've sifted through my emotions and beliefs, met new friends, found wonderful people who, like me, are just trying to make sense of their new lives.

It started with a fury of cleansing posts, the words exploding from my head to my fingers. I could hardly keep up with my thoughts and get them down fast enough. The pace has slowed, and my ex-Mormon muse is barely with me these days. Moving on, moving on.

Here's to 274 posts, 16288 hits, and a year of Outer Blogness.

dreams

2007-10-05T09:55:00.000-07:00

I've had a couple Mormon dreams lately.

In one, I was at the veil in the temple. Except there was no veil, the man representing god was just standing there. And he was a little creepy. I was trying to go through all the signs and tokens and names and kept screwing them up. Not on purpose, just because I couldn't remember them well. It didn't worry me, though. And in my dream, I didn't remember that I am actually apostate and should've just been messing with everybody for some laughs. Hey, it was a dream.

In another, I was lying in bed, sick. Some priesthood-holding man came into the room and started to put him hands on my head to give me a blessing. I most definitely did not want a blessing and I protested, asking "What are you doing?" in an appalled voice. He tried again to put his hands on me, and for some reason this was just the absolute worst thing that could possible happen (you know how dreams are). Short of physically moving out of the way, which I couldn't do because of my illness, I tried to think of the ways to get him to leave me the hell alone. I thought swearing might scare him off, so I started swearing up a storm, but it didn't seem to bother him. That's all I remember.

Why can't I just have dreams where I'm flying?

love bombed

2007-10-03T12:46:00.000-07:00

I was at my "inactive" brother-in-law's house, and noticed a paper plate of cookies, loosely covered in saran wrap, on the counter.

"Let me guess, your home teachers came over?" I asked my brother-in-law.

He looked up, utterly shocked. "How did you know?"

I pointed to the cookies. "Love bomb."

He smiled. "Better watch out. They might be poisoned."

tea

2007-10-01T10:46:00.000-07:00

I sat at the kitchen table drinking some herbal tea. My son asked where I got the tea, and I told him my mom gave it to me.

"She drinks tea?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, herbal tea."

"Even though she believes in god?" he asked.

"Yes," I smiled, "even though she believes in god," I answered. "But, you know, most people who believe in god still drink tea. It's Mormons that don't drink tea."

"Oh," he answered. "So Grandma FTA is not Mormon? She drinks tea."

"Well, yes, she is Mormon. And she drinks certain kinds of tea. Like herbal tea."

"Why?" he wondered.

"She thinks herbal tea is okay, but not other kinds of tea. It's kind of weird."

"But my other grandma doesn't drink tea?"

"No, I don't think she does."

"Is she Mormon too?" he asked.

"Yes, she's Mormon too," I told him.

"They're both Mormon?" he marveled.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"You know what I was thinking?" he said.

"What?"

"If got caught in a tunnel like Curious George did," he said, "and they covered the holes with metal, I would use my lasers to blast a hole and get out. Wouldn't that be cool? If a laser came right out of my forehead?"

"Dude, that would be sooo cool."

tattoo

2007-09-28T09:09:00.000-07:00

Since I was raised to abhor tattoos and believe they were a slap in the face to god, who, after all, gave me my body as a temple to keep holy and pure, I never thought about tattoos for myself until I left Mormonism. Once I had the true chance to think for myself on the matter, I realized it just ain't none of anyone's damn business but my own whether or not I get a tattoo, or enough of them to cover my whole body. I realize, still, it can affect people's perceptions of me, and this could affect personal relationships as well as career situations. Which is dumb, but a fact of life.

I still didn't get tattoos, though, and wondered how people could choose a design they would like the rest of their lives. Or how they deal with tattoos they learned to dislike or will be embarrassed about later (like the one I saw on a young father's chest: Money over Bitches). Or why someone would even want to put permanent art on their bodies. I started watching Miami Ink now and then, as often as I could beat my husband out of the remote control because it was on the same time as the reality show about climbing Everest. I watched Miami Ink and listened to the people's stories. There was always a story behind the tattoo--a death of a beloved relative, an overcoming of a destructive drug habit, a birth of a new child, a success in career, the turning of a new leaf. These tattoos meant something personal, something beautiful. They marked an important part of their bearers' lives, and served as constant memento to that. For others, tattoos are a celebration of the body, of self, using the body as art, a canvas. Now I understood.

I've often thought about getting a tattoo of a phoenix, complete with fire still burning. It would show my rebirth from Mormonism, with the burning and destruction a necessary part of that rebirth. But I have yet decided upon a design I like, or decided to spend the money to hire a tattoo artist to design one. Maybe I'll get around to it, and maybe I'll decide I don't want one. Perhaps I'm a little reluctant to have people (read: Mormon relatives) see me with a tattoo. Perhaps I would regret it. I don't know. And since I don't know yet, I'll wait. I have had extensive henna tattoos and loved, loved, loved it. But perhaps my ability to love them was their impermanence. I'm not sure.

One funny thing about Mormonism and tattoos is that the proscription has extended to temporary tattoos. You know, the kind you get in grocery store quarter machines, the wet-and-stick, kid ones. I got one once when I was dating my now-husband, and put it on my belly, lower and to the left of my belly button. My mom caught a glimpse of it and flipped out. Never mind that it was temporary. Never mind that I was nineteen. She lectured about body-is-a-temple and tattoos-laced-with-LSD and avoiding-the-appearance-of-evil. And I rolled my eyes, as any nineteen-year-old would do.

I've continued to have fun with temporary tattoos since then, and enjoy buying them for my son, too. He loves them, too, but is scared of "needle tattoos" because "that would hurt" and "they stay on forever and ever until your body breaks up into tiny bits and returns to the earth." His opinion of tattoos he's formed entirely by himself, as far as I can tell, but because we certainly haven't said anything to knock them and admire them on people when we see them. And I'm proud of him for having his own mind on the matter. I imagine he'll change his mind when he's older and not as afraid of needles, but either way is fine with me.

So when my mother-in-law accidentally bought all her grandsons some temporary tattoos, which she thought were stickers, we stuck them on my son's arms, exactly where he wanted them. Around the same time, I found some tattoos I had bought a couple months ago, and my son wanted those on his arms too. Pretty soon, he had a full sleeve of temporary tattoos.

The adults all thought it was a great irony that Mormon Grandma had bought the tattoos, even on accident, and we weren't going to let her take them back. My mother-in-law, as soon as she discovered her mistake, freaked out, and tried to dispose of the other grandsons' packets of tattoos. I rescued them, knowing that the other grandsons would like their present as much as my son did. She keeps making comments wondering when those things will come off, and if she could bathe our son tonight so she could scrub his arms clean. We keep telling her not to worry about it, he loves them, but she keeps pushing. Why? She's afraid that this youthful episode will "get him used to having tattoos now, and what if that makes him want a real one later?"

She didn't express this fear to me, or else I wouldn't have given her an earful. One, the connection between temporary now and permanent then is silly. Two, so what if he wants one later? If he wants one, then he'll get one. Hell, if it bothers you that much, I'll go get one at the same time he does! Three, if you'd just bother to ask him yourself, he'd tell you he only likes temporary ones. Four, remember that your other daughter-in-law has tattoos? And would love it if her sons decide to get inked when they are older? Five, it just ain't none of your damn business.

publicity

2007-09-26T12:30:00.000-07:00

I was with my devout Mormon relatives this last week, and some interesting conversation topics popped up. One topic was "any publicity is good publicity," a view apparently held by some of the apostles. You know all the Mormonism-in-the-news that's been going on? The polygamist Warren Jeffs trial (guilty!), the 150th anniversary of the Mountain Meadows Massacre and the movie September Dawn, and Mormon Mitt Romney running for president? Yep, it's all publicity for the mainstream LDS church, even if only tangentially through history and the FLDS church.

Apostle Perry, for his part, believes all this to be a good thing for the church. Why? Because when people hear about the funky doctrines of Mormonism that Romney equivocates about, and the FLDS church's prophet-accomplice to rape, and the ugly, ugly history of fanatical mass murder, people ask questions. And, Perry must believe, the curious place these questions to devout Mormons who know little enough about them that they can make them look okay.

You know, like, we're really about family values and we don't actually worry about man-becoming-god and the New Jerusalem and denial of the priesthood to blacks. And the FLDS church is in no way related to us; we're LDS, see? Those FLDSers are bad and not Mormon and a big fat embarrassment to us. They have nothing to do with us, and their version of polygamy is in no way anything like the LDS historical polygamy, no, no. And those MMM murders, well, okay, they were murders, but it was a bunch of fanatics. If they had just listened to their leaders, they wouldn't have been led astray. It was their own sick brand of Mormonism that they interpreted to allow for the murders; that wasn't true Mormonism. Besides, the Arkansans were claiming they killed Joseph and all that--of course the Mormons were angry!

But I would venture to guess that, for the most part, all this publicity mostly makes Mormonism look worse than it already did to the general US public. Most Americans think Mormonism is as strange as Scientology and Moonie-ism and JW-ism. To hear more about polygamy and massacre and funky doctrine is only going to solidify that opinion in most minds. And when the curious ask questions, they are going to ask Google as often as their faithful Mormon neighbor, and get very different answers. In my experience, when people do ask faithful Mormons questions about their religion, it is often out of simple curiosity, and the only thing keeping them from saying "That's sounds idiotic!" or "Oh, please, you actually believe that?" is politeness.

So when my family was talking about all this, I was polite. I put in my two cents about MMM and the polygamy trial, to be sure, but I chose my words and tone carefully so that they would actually listen, rather than automatically ignore my opinion because it's so exmo. The interesting thing about those topics, though, is that we, as devout Mormons and exmo, can somewhat agree. The MMM was disgusting. Polygamy is disgusting.

The difference between us lies in the beliefs about the origins. To them, MMM came from local, fanatical leaders--so it is not a part of the True Church of God. To me, it came from local and regional leaders and from a fanaticism that Mormonism itself engendered--so Mormonism is not the True Church of God. To them, polygamy came from God for some incomprehensible reason, but as long as we ignore it, it won't bother us, and a church that once demanded it for salvation can still be the True Church of God. To me, polygamy came from Joseph Smith for personal power and sexual pleasure--and no god would tell a man to do such a thing so Mormonism is not the True Church of God.

Publicity for Mormonism? Yeah, I guess it's a good thing. From my point of view, anyway.

remembering

2007-09-24T15:54:00.000-07:00

Do all churches do this? Do all churches eulogize and remember a person as if he had been a perfect, faithful, believing member? Even when he hadn't been to church since he was old enough to tell his parents, "I ain't goin' "? Do they all pick songs to sing at the funeral that the deceased probably didn't recognize, let alone like?

"Rebellion" and swearing and alcoholism and bar fights and no-mission and no-temple are all rendered "free spirit" and "did things his own way," with a sideways smile. They are, I suppose, trying their best to be nice and polite and remember the best of him. Which is fine. Who doesn't want to be remembered well? For people to forget the foibles and faults. But foibles and faults according to whom? The deceased? Sure, I'd bet he'd admit he did some stupid things in his life, that there were some things that he'd not repeat if he had the chance.

But to judge him according to the tenants of Mormonism when he didn't even care for them in his lifetime? To give more time in the funeral to the plan of salvation and Mormon hymns than to a sketch of his life, a portrait of his charcater? It just feels unfair and conceited.

I found myself at the funeral, looking at the program, with Jesus on the front, and five Mormon hymns listed inside, obviously picked for their content and not for the deceased's preference, wondering how I would handle this. Should I sing along about knowing my redeemer lives and how I am a child of God, when I don't believe in either? Should I mouth that I stand all amazed, when I don't? Does it really matter? I was standing next to my sister, the one who knows I'm a secularist, deciding whether to sing or silently protest the singing.

It struck me, as I watched others, particularly my parents, sing, that these songs bring them comfort right now. They really do. And that I couldn't do anything then, at my uncle's goodbye, when my mother was grieving so much, to hurt her further. I couldn't have them look over and see me in my silent religious protest, my religious politics kniving them once again. And I thought, if I think of it as mythology, a story, the savior and the afterlife and all that, it could be kind of comforting in death, even as a myth--a world view, a paradigm. Humans in all of history have found some way of comforting themselves about death, about the reality of their own mortality. And my family sings these particular songs to do that. Okay. I can sing. And I sang.

Except during I Know My Redeemer Lives, I thought of my last post, about crying for the loss of Heavenly Mother and Heavenly Father who will never open their arms to me. And I thought about the readers who connected with me on that, who felt as I did. I thought about the people surrounding me, who didn't get me. I said that line in my head over and over and I cried behind my sunglasses (for we were singing at the graveside), and everyone thought I was crying for my uncle, who I never know and will never know. And I wondered, what would I want at my funeral?

death

2007-09-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

I arrived home from picking my son up from school to see the red light blinking on my cell phone. I checked missed calls: someone at my parents' house had called. There was a message, so I dialed the message system. I heard my mom's voice start, then hesitate. Oh no, something is wrong. Did you get the email that Your Uncle passed away? she said. That's all she said.

My face showed the shock, and my husband asked what the matter was. My heart sank, and I felt myself begin to cry. Seeing I couldn't tell him quite yet, not through the tears, he turned away to give me a minute. This is one of those times family should be together, I thought. I want to go to the funeral. When is it? I logged on to the computer to check the email for more information, and said aloud, "My Uncle died. My mom's brother. He'd been sick." The email gave a little more information, that he died Sunday, peacefully.

I called my mom, and she filled in a few more details. I wanted to cry, but held back because my mom's voice seemed perfectly controlled, normal. Plus, I hate crying on the phone. After I got off the phone, I cried a little more.

The thing is, I hardly know my uncle. He knows me as just one of his many nieces--someone always had to tell him which one I was. He lived far away. I don't think I met him until I was nine, and didn't even know who he was when he walked into my grandma's house and greeted us kids familiarly. That summer, he took us to the fishing hole and showed us where the blackberry bushes were. He talk us how to walk around a horse without startling it. He had a few wild stories about getting in fights (which explained his missing teeth) and growing up on a ranch. He's the one that taught me how to shoot a pellet gun, aiming at his empty beer cans, and told me to shoot the rats in the yard. (I shot one, felt too guilty, I never did again.)

Since then, I've hardly seen him. Just at big events, a funeral, a wedding. His death had been expected for years. His health had been frail, partly from his hard drinking and smoking. Last time I saw him, this summer, he was in a wheelchair and his voice was slurred from a stroke. I talked to him, and waited with what I hope was a patient smile as his forced his words out. He was complimenting my smile.

Why, if I knew him so little, is his death affecting me this much, then?

He's the first death in the family since I stopped believing I'd see all my family again in heaven.

When I heard the phone message, I remembered a dream I had last night, with his deceased father, my grandfather, in it. I saw him there, and I hugged him and cried and cried for the chance to hug him again. The dream was emotional enough to jar me awake. When I connected the dream to the real-life death of my uncle, I started thinking:

It's odd, isn't it, that I had two dreams about my grandpa in the past week, and then his son dies? Could it mean something, some connection, from beyond?

No, I reprimanded myself, it's just a dream. A coincidence that I assigned significance to. Had I had the dream two months ago, I wouldn't have thought it odd. There is no afterlife, silly.

Stop being so smug about my new beliefs, I countered myself. I used to be so sure there was an afterlife--and I criticize myself for being so sure. Now to be so sure there isn't one? Isn't that just as bad, as inflexible?

Okay, good point, I conceded. But there is no evidence for it. We just don't know. That's the best we can say. No one actually knows. But it is safe to assume, to live my life on the assumption that there is no afterlife. That the afterlife was just invented by humans once their brains got big enough to wonder what happened after death.

He's gone. Gone, and I won't see him again.

So how do I handle this? I mourn. I try to grasp my own mortality. Remember that I need to get know people now, while I can. He's younger than my own mom and dad. Younger, and gone.

Funerals are about family and friends mourning loved ones, together. So I should be there. And I should leave behind my politics of they're-Mormon-I'm-humanist-so-what-are-we-going-to-do-about-it? Just be there. Give my mom and her sisters, their mom hugs to express my sympathy and sadness that their brother and son is gone.

Cry that he's gone. Cry that I never got to know him. Cry that I never got to talk to him about why he hadn't gone to church since I-don't-even-know-when. Cry for the deaths of my grandpa, my friend, my cousin, the others whose funerals I attended, confident I would see again after they buried them in the ground. Cry for the the loss of the afterlife, and for the loss of Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother, who will never open their arms to me and say, Welcome home, you did well.

Goodbye, Uncle, you did well. I'll smile for you. I know you liked my smile.

on a Sunday

2007-09-16T19:57:00.000-07:00

On a Sunday, I sleep in while my child watched a little more TV than usual

On a Sunday, I savor a slow, leisurely brunch with my little family and endless coffee

On a Sunday, I read about vampires or Big Brother or betrayal or death and life

On a Sunday, I play with my child--catch or dominoes or ewoks-and-Princess-Leia or horned meat-eating dinos

On a Sunday, I go for a drive in the farmland, the windy mountains, and along the ocean, amazed that I ever came into being to see it

On a Sunday, I marvel at Matisse, fall into a jarring blue, and wonder at mirrors and light

On a Sunday, I wander through the displays of science and history and am content that though I missed it before, I am learning it now

On a Sunday I linger over lunch because the conversation is even better than the food

On a Sunday, I am smiles and hugs and (unwanted) goodbyes, because I know even three days wouldn't have been enough

On a Sunday, I am dizzy with joy at finally sharing my face, my name, my story, me, without the filter of anonymity

On a Sunday, I chat about what I want to, because I can, and I am better than ever before

asserting myself (a little)

2007-09-13T15:19:00.000-07:00

At a family dinner with my devout in-laws, my never-mo sister-in-law and her kids, and us, all the food was out on the bar ready for us to fill our plates and take them outside to the patio. I saw my in-laws were feeling the meal couldn't start without a prayer, but my mother-in-law got distracted by something. I wasn't going to stand around doing nothing until she was ready. So I started filling a plate for my son. My sister-in-law and husband followed, and we headed to the backyard. We all began to eat.

My father-in-law made it out with his plate to join us, but my mother-in-law was still inside filling hers. Oddly, perhaps to try to joke, my father-in-law looked at us and said, "Whoever eats first has to ask the blessing."

I wasn't sure how to react to that, but I decided in a split second it needed more of a response that a courtesy laugh.

"We don't say blessings on food," I said pointedly.

"I've noticed," he replied.

And then I felt awkward. I wished I had been able to turn it into my own joke, to ease the tension rather than increase it. I'm not good at that.

My mother-in-law then came out to the yard, set her plate down, and said to her husband, "All right, let's say the blessing." He acknowledged her, and she called out to all the kids who were on a picnic blanket nearby, "We're saying the prayer! Everybody--just--close your eyes."

I leaned over to watch the kids during the prayer. One nephew immediately closed his eyes. My son didn't (and I did an internal cheer). The nephew later opened his eyes and thought it was funny that lots of people weren't closing theirs either. I smiled at him to show my approval and to share in the funny situation.

I was irked. Their praying over their food is perfectly fine, but don't include my kid in it. There was no reason she couldn't have just had a little prayer on the side with her husband--the only other one there who participates in that particular ritual. There's a certain conceitedness in it, that everyone should do what they are doing. Sure, I'll be polite and quiet, as an outsider. But I won't participate any more than I would any other random religious ritual of any faith. Just don't presume that I'm doing something wrong by not getting involved.

another take on Mormonism

2007-09-12T07:02:00.000-07:00

I've been reading god is not great by Christopher Hitchens. Hitchens doesn't even give god the respect of capitalizing the word god. And that is perfectly fine by me, since the monotheistic God is not any more convincing or real than all those other gods whom God-believing people don't give the dignity of a capital letter. But that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is to delight in Hitchens's take on Mormonism.

First of all, take note of the chapter in which Hitchens discusses Mormonism.

Chapter 11: "The Lowly Stamp of Their Origin": Religion's Corrupt Beginnings

This is the chapter in which he discusses the formation of modern religions, what he calls "openly manufactured sausage religions." This particular metaphor comes from the idea that if you want to continue to enjoy eating sausages, "take care not to be present when [they] are being manufactured" (p. 155). In other words, these are the easily-debunked, obviously-false religions. Mormonism is grouped here with Melanesian cargo cults and a Pentecostal preacher Marjoe, who was trained from a too-young age to awe and fool audiences. If I hadn't left Mormonism, I would have been appalled by the author's grouping. But now, I can only see too well why Hitchens would make the association.

He refers to Joseph as a "gifted opportunist" who "openly plagiarized Christian terms" and had a thing for Muhammed (p. 161). After that quick introduction, he moves on to Joseph's court appearance for peep-stoning, his residence in the Burned-Over District, and the local fascination with Native American burial grounds in the area. Joseph managed to combine interest in the treasure of the mounds with interest in their origins. It was a popular idea at the time that the Native Americans were really descendants of Hebrews, a lost tribe.

This sets the stage for "the imposture [that] is almost embarrassing to read" (p. 162).

And how was this same story rendered in Sunday School?

Joseph, age 14, wasn't sure which church to join, so he prayed and was told to join none of them, but to start his own.

It's flabbergasting to see that juxtaposition, isn't it?

Hitchens also calls Joseph's story "almost embarrassingly easy to uncover" (p. 162.) I had mixed feelings about that statement. He is so flippant when he points out the fact that Mormon origins are so obviously fraudulent, and that they are so easily uncovered to be embarrassing. And yet I, along with millions of others, were duped. And to uncover that truth? Embarrassingly easy? Hardly. Perhaps the process of finding the information was relatively easy--once I got past the cultural block that all that information is just a pack of lies I shouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole. Really, the information to show that Mormonism isn't all it claims to be is legion and, since the advent of the Internet, easy to find. But actually disbelieving it? Actually letting my brain put the pieces of the puzzle together, against all socialization and family support? That, my dear Hitchens, was agonizingly hard. Nevertheless, I forgive Hitchens this slight, because, you know what? It is embarrassingly easy to uncover, when viewed from the outside.

One thing that struck me was his sentence about Fawn Brodie and her No Man Knows My History, a biography of Joseph Smith. From a faithful Mormon point of view, this book is positively anti-Mormon (but, then, what isn't, besides syncophancy?). Even I wouldn't touch Brodie's book while I was exploring church history, thinking it was just unfairly harsh. I hadn't read it, of course, which is the way I formed that opinion. When I did read it, I found it to be great, and nothing more anti- than refusing to tell the story as if Joseph actually saw god. Hitchens, interestingly, called it "a good-faith attempt by a professional historian to put the kindest possible interpretation on the relevant 'events' " (p. 162, emphasis added). Isn't it telling that an outsider thinks it good-faith and kind, when Mormons see it as despicably anti-Mormon?

The author goes on to tell the basic story of Smith, with the characteristic unsympathetic voice he employs through the rest of the book. He even makes a couple minor mistakes, saying baptisms for the dead are performed through prayers said in weekly meetings. It couldn't have been that hard to find an insider to confirm the itsy-bitsy details, could it? But then, who cares? Mormonism is, in the grand scheme of things, embarrassingly insignificant.

The way Hitchens tells the history, it is embarrassing that I didn't figure it out before. In my defense, though, I didn't have the information I needed--and I gobbled it up when I found it.

LDS library

2007-09-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

Because of a water leakage problem, I had to pleasure (read: chore--I was the only one home and awake when it needed to be done) of removing all the books from a seven-shelf bookshelf so the carpet guys could get under the shelf. Some of the shelves were stacked two deep, too. But it wasn't all bad, since this particular shelf happens to be where my in-laws store all of their Mormon books. So as I performed the tedious task of transferring all these books to the pool table, I checked out some of the titles. What on earth is in a devout Mormon family's LDS library, besides Books of Mormon, triple combinations, and Sunday School manuals? I variously gagged, cringed, and laughed as I found out.

There were your presidents-of-the-church superficialities, like Way to Be! and the bio of various church, ahem, prophets.

Then the "deep doctrine" writings, such as McConkie's Messiah series, Doctrinal Commentaries on all the Mormon scriptures, The Miracle of Forgiveness (two copies!) and Isaiah for Today. Because, you know, Hebrew poetry figures into the daily lives of just about everyone I know.

Then you've got your let's-pretend-the-Nephites-really-existed books, such as Charting the Book of Mormon, In the Footsteps of Lehi, and Early America and the Polynesians. Also, a book about the Incas was mixed among these books, because, you know, the Incas were really the Lamanites (gag). And the one to make Nephites more accessible to kids: Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites.

Don't forget the homages to BYU football, either, with books about Lavell Edwards, Ty Detmer, and Steve Young.

There were even some potentially subversive we-used-to-teach-what?!? and Joseph-did-what!?!? books, such as History of Joseph Smith by his Mother Lucy Mack Smith, Lectures on Faith, Encyclopedia of Mormonism, and History of the Church volumes 1-7.

I was amused to find advice-for-better-living books, too, such as Marriage and Family: Gospel Insights, Fun for Family Night, and When a Child Wanders (there were a couple sticky-tabs marking pages in this one). My favorite by far, though, showed a man and woman in front of a rainbow, with the title Do it Yourself Destiny. Wow. I mean, wow.

The only thing more awesome would have been How Awesome Will it Be? A Teenagers Guide to Understanding and Preparing for the Second Coming. 'Cause apocalypse? Burning? Slaughter? All that? It could only be, like, totally awesome. Good thing I'll have plenty to read. Until I burn up like chaff, that is.

follow-up to turbans

2007-09-07T09:56:00.000-07:00

Mai, a blogger who is Sikh, commented on my last post, and wrote her own post about Sikhs and turbans. I realized my post would be controversial, but I hadn't really been thinking about it being rude. Which it was. So I followed Mai's link to her blog, read her post, and left this comment.

I'm actually glad you stumbled across my blog and my unusual (for me) post about security and turbans. It was nice to have a Sikh comment on the issue. I'm sorry to have offended you. Believe it or not, I know a little more about Sikhi that your average American (that doesn't take much). I have also in my life been quite respectful to various religions traditions and practices. It is quite a commitment to wear a turban (or a head scarf, or garments, or whatever) all through one's life, and also difficult, especially when you are in the minority to do so.

As you could see from my post, many of my opinions of religion are changing and up in the air right now. I just blurted out my first thoughts on the matter after reading the article. After reading your comments and post, as well as the comments of a couple of my regular readers, I can step back a little and see a different side. Turbans, as such, are really a harmless side of religion, as opposed to some aspects of religion that can be harmful to some. As, for example, the misogyny and racism in my Mormon heritage.

Asking Sikhs to remove their turbans in security checks likely causes more offense than any good would come of it--I find it extremely hard to believe that a Sikh would hide a composite gun in his turban, for example.

For me, my post was essentially about the deference we give religion just because it's religion, and Sikhs happen to be a starting point because the article made me think of it. Since you came by, it became a personal issue, and I thank you for that. Hearing about your BIL and SIL who have to cross into Canada to fly out--that struck me in a way that the newspaper article did not. The US shouldn't be making it harder and harder for Sikhs (and Muslims) to live here; we should be making it easier.

With regards to the history of the turban, I will defer to your knowledge. My comment about the British came from that book I linked. I went to grab my copy of the book so I could quote the part about Sikhs and the British army, but I don't have it with me. I could be remembering it totally wrong, of course. I'll remove that sentence from my post.

security restrictions and religion

2007-09-05T10:24:00.000-07:00

I read an article in the newspaper yesterday about the new TSA regulation that all airplane passengers must remove their head covering, be it baseball cap, head scarf, or turban, during the security screenings at airports. This article emphasized Sikh men, who show devotion and commitment to God by never cutting their hair. Sikh men are best recognized, then, not by long hair and beards, but by turbans which hide their hair.

The new security measure is, then, a problem for Sikhs and others, such as Muslim women, who cover their hair for religious reasons.

One the one hand, I can see the plight of the religious observers. I was, after all, a devout wearer of garments for several years, and can empathize with the indignation and embarrassment people might feel in being required to remove a religious article of clothing. Garments, though, are qualitatively different from head coverings, since garments are easily hidden, and are meant to be hidden, under a layer of clothing. Still, I could see how I would have been upset had I, say, gotten a job that denied me the garments, such as if the uniform didn't cover garments.

The head scarves of Muslim women and the turbans of Sikh men are different in that, when taking them off, they are exposing a part of the body that is rarely exposed. Therefore they feel a bit naked, and that's uncomfortable, to be sure. We all get used to our different levels of modesty. Sleeveless shirts used to feel "naked" to me, for example. I've lived in a Muslim area, and gotten used to always having my head covered to the point that I would panic a little if a man entered my house and my head wasn't covered. I can imagine how much more intense that is for women who have been taught since they were toddlers that uncovered hair around unrelated men is sinfully inappropriate.

Then there's the inconvenience. Those turbans take several minutes to wrap, and to have to redo the turban in the public airport is a pain and probably embarrassing as well. Head scarves are not so labor intensive, but, still, it's probably slightly more hassle than having to remove our shoes, like everyone does now at airports.

On the other hand (and here's where I see my secular side coming out, influenced by Dawkins and Hitchens), why should they be given an exception to the security rule? Because their style of clothing is determined by some religious myth? Because centuries ago, a man was worried about the fidelity of his many (more than four!) wives and asked that they be visited from behind a veil? This is, after all, the justification for veiling women: there's a half a sentence in Muslim scripture that could be interpreted in many ways. And Sikhs. The no-hair cutting thing is old, sure, but still just as arbitrary as any religious proscription.

Why should religious dress be granted an exception, simply because it is religious? Because it's based on beliefs so insupportable that we have to rely on faith, against reason, to believe them?

Feel free to debate with me and with each other, but please keep it civil.

read my lips

2007-09-03T08:02:00.000-07:00

I dreamed last night that I was standing in the kitchen of the house we're staying in, my in-laws' house. My husband and his parents were there, and a couple different conversations were going on. My mother-in-law, having just gotten back from a shopping trip with me, encouraged me to try on a new red shirt I had bought. I put it on and showed the group.

Only mother-in-law was paying attention, and she, oddly enough (hey, it's a dream), asked me to lift up the bottom of the shirt a bit so she could see how it fit over my garments. In the dream, it wasn't an odd request, expect for the fact that I haven't worn garments in over two years.

"I don't wear garments," I said. But with the conversation between my husband and his dad going across us, she didn't hear me. I thought to myself how strange it was that she didn't know I don't wear garments. Hadn't she seen my sleeveless shirts? Does she think I could conceal cap sleeves under no sleeves or something? Perhaps I said it a little too quietly, not wanting to say it so blatantly.

"Let me see how it fits over your garments," my mother-in-law repeated, a little impatient that I hadn't complied with her request already.

I forcefully set down the cup of water I had been drinking from. Just say it. "I. Don't. Wear. Garments."

She was immediately flustered and said said, "Well, how do I know what you guys do? How am I supposed to know?" She then wanted to launch into a Q & A of what we do and don't do now. I was happy that it was going to be talked about. But the dream ended.

Of all the things Mormonism and leaving the church has put in my mind, the single thing that still bothers me the most is dealing with devout family. In a way that helps them be comfortable, but doesn't bowl over who I am at the same time. Be me, because I have got to be me, but also avoid shoving things in their faces.

seminary

2007-08-31T07:36:00.000-07:00

Time-release seminary. Junior year. Was it second period? Or fourth? (Eat your heart out, all you who had to endure early-morning seminary.) I even remember the teacher's name. He had a reputation for saying different things. We would qualify things he said behind his back with "The Gospel according to Brother P----."

He had these object lessons that he gave year after year.

In one of them, he circled a power cord, one of those big orange ones, on the floor to make an area big enough for one person to stand or sit in. He then asked one of the students to stand in it. Some boy volunteered. He then instructed the boy to promise not to step over it, or break it. He promised. Then the teacher offered a donut if he could get out of that circle without stepping over it or breaking it. The boy couldn't think of a way. He then offered all the money in his wallet, several bills, if he could do it. The boy could not.

My scheming mind, though, set to work as if it were a logic problem. According to his words, I couldn't step over the cord or break it. But he never said anything about touching it, did he? I figured I could lift the cord, and get out of the circle by stepping under it. That was definitely not restricted by the promise.

I mentioned it to the class, the teacher waved me off. That was not the point. The point was the promise. One year, he said, a kid stepped right out of that circle and grabbed the money. The Spirit immediately left the room, the teacher warned us.

He then explained what the lesson was about. It was based on BYU founder Karl Maeser's chalk line quote, the one displayed all over BYU campus. But I didn't know that at the time.

"I have been asked what I mean by 'word of honor.' I will tell you. Place me behind prison walls — walls of stone ever so high, ever so thick, reaching ever so far into ground — there is a possibility that in some way or another I may be able to escape; but stand me on the floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never. I'd die first.”

So it was about keeping your word, and here I was taking it apart like a logic challenge. I wondered about my faith that day. I thought I'd done something wrong in approaching it as I did. Indicative of my future path, perhaps?

I'm glad now I did take the whole thing apart, and step under that cord, so to speak, with the help of logic.

party

2007-08-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

Utah. Invitation to a party--a BBQ. Maybe thirty people shuffle in and out over the course of several hours. The living room, kitchen, and deck (and sometimes garage and bedrooms) are filled with happy, chatting people, circulating in and out, greeting and laughing. I know hardly anyone here, but after a shot or two of tequila, I strike up some friendships and talk like we are high school buddies. A counter top is crammed with bottles of liquor and sodas to mix it with. The fridge is full of six-packs of local brews, Polygamy Porter, and Captain Bastard's Oatmeal Stout. The table groans under the weight of fruit soaked in port and other treats, both sweet and savory. I discover my love for brie and bagette. Loud music plays for a while, and some guests dance happily, if a little unsteadily, to the beat. The living room becomes a make-out zone, and I laugh, and stick to the kitchen. I enjoy the commotion and the conversation while my drinks wear off, and I drive home sometime after midnight.

California. Invitation to a party--a game night. Five or six couples, some board games, pink lemonade, three types of chocolate chip cookies, angel food cake, and brownies. I don't know anyone here, and the host forgets to introduce me. Chit chat about children and days gone past. In a game listing famous people, everyone knows who John McCain is, but no one knows Michael Moore. In a game of charades, when I pull thumb and forefinger to my mouth and puff deeply, no one guesses weed. Someone mentions the gathering to Missouri, only half-jokingly. "Don't we believe that?" I've had enough, so I pipe in, "Not if you're Mitt Romney. He denies it." People laugh. But I'm not entirely sure they know what the hell I'm referring to.

We drive home and compare notes on how painful we found the party. I think he wins, since, even though he knew at least half the people there, I'd had a shot of vodka before coming.

classics

2007-08-24T10:00:00.001-07:00

Though I was always a good student and have always read a lot just for fun, I've realized lately just how many great books I've never touched. This includes many books that, had I read as the close-minded Mormon that I was, I would not have gotten nearly as much out of them as I could have.

When I did read "important" books and classics, I read them with barriers in my mind. I could have seen them for what they were, or what the authors hoped them to be. I could have gleaned lessons about life from them, or gained a better understanding of the variety of human experience. Instead, I reworked them in my head, either devaluing them for not having The Right Conception of God or judging characters for not acting Right. Or when characters found themselves living a false, trapped life and escaped, as in the young adult book, The Giver, I saw the false, emotionless, colorless life as The World and the freedom from it, Mormonism. I never once in the reading of that book, years ago, think, "Is my life like the boy's? Am I living in a contrived world? Is there something more out there?" I failed to ask the same questions with movies such as The Truman Show and The Matrix.

I've often wondered, of all the books I read as a devout Mormon, if I reread them now, I'd have a totally different perspective on them. Like Camus's The Stranger or the ancient The Tale of Genji. (And if I read them 20, 30, 40 years from now, I'll have a different perspective again.)

With that in mind, I have sought out some classics to read. Lately, I've read Maya Angelou and Robert Louis Stevenson. Currently, I have George Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984 in front of me.

Animal Farm is shocking so far, and even though it's a satire of communist Russia, I can't help but see some of the characters' thoughts as eerily similar to some I've had regarding Mormonism. I've playfully reworked some of the details in a couple quotes.

After a terrible blood-bath purge, Boxer, the hard-working horse says, "I do not understand it. I would not have believed that such things could happen on our farm. It must be due to some fault in ourselves. The solution, as I see it, is to work harder. From now onwards I shall get up a full hour earlier in the mornings” (p.52 in the edition linked above).

Another horse, Clover, muses over the same incident as Boxer.

“There was no thought of rebellion or disobedience in her mind. She knew that, even as things were, they were far better off than they had been in the days of Jones, and that before all else it was needful to prevent the return of the human beings. Whatever happened, she would remain faithful, work hard, carry out the orders that were given her, and accept the leadership of Napoleon” (p. 53).

Regarding the introduction of polygamy, or a cover-up of a child molestation, or the Mountain Meadows Massacre, a Mormon might have very similar thoughts:

"I do not understand it. I would not have believed that such things could happen on our church. It must be due to some fault in ourselves. The solution, as I see it, is to have more faith. From now onwards I shall get up a full hour earlier in the mornings to do scripture study.”

Another horse, Clover, muses over the same incident as Boxer.

“There was no thought of rebellion or disobedience in her mind. She knew that, even as things were, they were far better off than they had been in the days before she converted, and that before all else it was needful to prevent backsliding. Whatever happened, she would remain faithful, work hard, carry out the orders that were given her, and accept the leadership of The Prophet.”

the best and worst "Big M" lessons ever

2007-08-23T11:09:00.000-07:00

Mormonism frowns severely upon The Big M, masturbation. (Let's see how that and yesterday's posts affect my keyword hits.) Mormonism also seems to think that it is a "problem" for only boys. Like I mentioned before, my Big M talk was from my bishop-father, "You don't need to worry about that." The worst Big M lesson ever. I imagine my brothers got slightly more in depth talks, but they were probably along the lines of "Don't. It's evil." 'Cause God gave you a penis, but He sure doesn't expect you to use it! As for the female body, I didn't know what was what until I learned about female circumcision in college. Yes, I was that innocent.

The best Big M talk, though, I saw on DVD last night. It was quick, extremely informative, straightforward, and as funny as hell. My husband and I were laughing hysterically. So if any of you have any pre-teen sons, but you can't figure out how to talk to them, leave it to the no-good, free-riding, brother-in-law character, Andy, from Weeds. Or at least take some tips from him.

(Explicit content. Obviously.)

Now if we could just get a female version of the talk.

lessons my son will NOT be spared...

2007-08-22T10:22:00.000-07:00

...but I was.

-anatomy of the sexual/reproductive system

-Boys have penises, girls have vaginas (or, as he likes to say it, "boys have penii and girls have vaginii). My parents' version was "boys have penises, girls don't." Niiiice.

-STDs, HIV/AIDS, condoms, lubricant, spermicide, etc.

-Sometimes girls like boys, boys like girls, and sometimes girls like girls, and boys like boys, AND THAT'S OKAY

-The best way to understand truth about the nature of the world and the universe is through science.

-Literature (religions texts included), history, music, art, etc., are great ways of understanding humankind's search for the meaning of their existence and how to get along in life.

-Question authority, including mine.

-There is no way of life that is the best or the truest.

lessons my son will be spared

2007-08-21T10:18:00.000-07:00

I was ten, and I just received a little birthday money from Grandma. I looked at the ten dollars, gleefully thinking about spending it. Candy, candy, candy. My mind wandered to my top drawer, where I kept two cleaned out orange juice cans. Both had been saved especially for a primary activity, where we labeled them with cutesy little cut-outs of cartoon kids holding up letters to spell Tithing and Missionary Fund.

Am I supposed to pay tithing on birthday money? I wondered. I had always paid exactly 10% on allowance (when I got it, which wasn't much), but a birthday present? Hmm. I had also started saving 10% for my future mission, which I was sure I would go on ever since I was confirmed a member of the church at age eight. So that'd be a dollar to tithing, and a dollar to my missionary fund. Leaves me eight dollars. But it's birthday money. I decided to ask my dad for the definitive answer.

"Dad, are you supposed to pay tithing on birthday money?" I asked.

He smiled slightly. "Is it income? Is it increasing the amount of money you have?" I replied.

I didn't bother to answer his question. I knew the answer. Pay 10% tithing on all your income. So I paid, and continued to pay, until I was 25. Even on birthday money.

.......

I was 15 and the youngest sophomore. My 16th birthday didn't come in my sophomore year like it did for all my friends. I wasn't to turn 16--and be of eligible dating age--until my junior year. So as I watched all my friends go out, I got to thinking about this no-dating-until-you-are-16 rule. I thought of a test.

"Dad, let's just say, hypothetically, that on the weekend before my 16th birthday I get asked out. And it wasn't just a normal date we could postpone a week. It was a special event, like a concert of my favorite band, and my potential date already got tickets and everything. Could I go?"

"You ever heard of Amazing Baseball Player With Awesome Batting Average?*"

"No," I replied. The sport in my family was basketball.

"Well, he had a great batting average. One day, a reporter asked him, 'You've got this great average. How do you manage?' Know what he said? He said, 'I never swing outside my strike zone.' So the reporter asked him, 'But if you would swing just outside, just widen your zone a little bit, you'll hit that much more.' But the baseball player said, 'No. If I start swinging a little wider, what's the keep me from swinging a little wider after that? And after that? Pretty soon, I'll be swinging at everything and my average will be shot.'"

"So the answer's no?"

*Sorry, I can't for the life of my remember who the player is. A quick google search didn't do me any good, either.

.....

I was 11, and every few weeks, one of the stupid, immature, goofy, mean, whatever, guys my age (they were all a few months older than me) were getting called up to the pulpit in church. Getting the priesthood, passing the sacrament.

"Why do only boys pass the sacrament?" I asked.

"That's the way God wants it to be."

personal

2007-08-20T09:19:00.001-07:00

My sister (the one whose husband is disaffected) revealed to me over the weekend that she knows I resigned my membership from the church. Her husband, whom we had confided in, told her. No-secrets-among-spouses kind of thing, I guess. She said her only shock was that I hadn't done it sooner. Her email was quite nice, actually, saying she loves me and wants me to be happy, and if I'm happiest outside the church, then so be it.

She also thinks I should tell the rest of the family, and that their reactions would be similar to hers. Except Mom, who would totally freak out, but, hey, I'll be out of the country for a while, so she's have a chance to calm down.

When I told her husband we had resigned--he had asked--he encouraged me to tell my parents. They shouldn't find out from the tithing settlement print out where it will show that all my ordinances have disappeared. Which would be a cruel way to find out, really. So I figure, yeah, he's right, I should tell them myself.

And then I pushed it out of my mind. Until I got the email from my sister.

How do you tell someone that you've rejected everything they gave you to the point that you even cancel all rites and rituals? To me, they mean nothing, but to them, they are everything. They are salvation.

So why did I resign if that idea bothers me so much?

When I stopped believing, and when I decided the church did more harm than good for me and for others, I stopped attending. When I realized that all churches are man-made, the Mormon church became nothing but an institution to me. Not the giver of the Gospel, not the keeper of keys, not the Only Way to Heaven. It is just an institution, and a really crummy one at that. It discriminates against women, gays, ethnic minorities (even where those minorities are majorities); it's youth education program is nothing short of f--ked up; and it provides One Spiritual Path instead of helping people find their own spirituality--or decide they aren't the spiritual type. If any institution that did any one of those things asked me to give them money, time, or membership, I'd raise an eyebrow, then walk on. Not even worth my consideration. And the Mormon church does them all. Join that? Yeah, right. Not for me, thanks.

And here I am, having joined that institution under extreme familial and peer pressure at the tender age of eight, without knowing any of its problems. Without knowing anything about any other option. I could've said it was too insignificant to bother to resign, but I found I just couldn't have my name down as a member of that institution. I had to symbolically distance myself, break that last string attaching me.

But is that what I say to my family? Is it any of their business? I am torn between "this is personal" and "they would want to know." Is it my love for them that makes me feel that obligation to tell them? Or is it my Mormon mindset that makes personal spirituality public, that doesn't understand or respect boundaries, that is guilting me into telling?

And what is it that is making me not want to tell? Is it the idea that this is my own personal thing, and none of their business? Or is it fear? Guilt? Love? If I fall back on the "the relationship is the most important" mantra, where does that lead me? Keep it silent, don't hurt them? But will it hurt that much more if they find out from a tithing settlement?

the body

2007-08-17T06:28:00.000-07:00

My attitudes toward life and, specifically, my body, have changed since leaving the church.

For one, I never cared all that much about my appearance, or tried to be particularly feminine. Though it's in the Utah Mormon culture to do so, I've never been high maintenance, never died or bleached my hair, never wore make-up in junior high or high school, never laid out to achieve a tan, didn't wear jewelry. I kind of figured God made me the way I was on purpose, and I didn't need to change that. Plus, those verses in Isaiah are pretty harsh against high-maintenance women.

Now, I'm still not high maintenance, but I have appreciated femininity more. I feel less frumpy without garments, and I have adjusted my wardrobe to include clothes that are flattering to my female form. I am more daring in what I buy, as far as getting out of my comfort zone on color and style. I have pierced my ears, I occasionally wear a little make-up (my husband prefers me without it, so I usually go for the easier route of not bothering), I'll put on some jewelry now and then, and I often even do something with my hair. I do this not in a response to becoming more "worldly" or "vain," but in a recognition that all this stuff is just cultural, social. I'm doing what I want with my style (in the framework of American culture), and not worrying about what God thinks about it all. Because even if there is a God, s/he doesn't give a damn about my clothing and hair.

When I was a Mormon, I had a "it's pointless to try too hard" attitude about my life. That is, I always believed that I would die when I was supposed to, and then get resurrected with a perfect body. So exercise, eating healthy? Not all that important, really. I mean, I did eat pretty well, and I did get some exercise, but I wasn't going to go all out. If I died when I was 62, so what? I'd still live forever, wouldn't I? That would be better than living to be 100, but senile and bedridden for the last 20 of them. Might as well get the next life and in the perfect body started, right?

Now that I've left, and believe there is no afterlife, no resurrection, that this is the only life and only body I'll ever get, I hold it more precious. While I'm not a perfect eater and exerciser, I try a lot harder. I care. My consciousness will only be around as long as my body is in good shape, and I intend to keep it that way as long as possible.

prayer ritual

2007-08-15T10:27:00.000-07:00

We don't pray before meals, as we were raised to do. But here in my in-laws house, they are sure to. Especially since we're here. They didn't do it very consistently when we were faithful Mormons, but now that we're Apostates, boy, do they ever. It's quite common to hear my mother-in-law say "Let's say the prayer now. Everyone fold your arms." or "We're saying the blessing on the food now. Everyone get ready." or "Shh, quiet, we're saying the prayer now."

I suppose they see it as setting a good example, though the effect on us isn't anything of the sort. It doesn't make me angry at all to be around their ritual, but it does make me angry when they try to push it on our son and his cousins (whose mother is Christian and father non-religious but Mormon by baptism).

Their mother, my sister-in-law (who knows about my blog and sometimes reads it--hi!), has never folded her arms to pray in her life; she's never seen it done that way in the variety of churches she's attended in her life. But since she lives so near our mother-in-law, and doesn't want to pick fights about everything, she's always just tolerated the "everybody fold your arms" thing with her kids. One day at a big family meal, her three-year-old interrupted his "reverent" arm-folding and head-bowing to tell me in a whisper to fold my arms, too. I said, "Nah." "Fold your arms!" he repeated. Again, I refused, with a smile. I related this story to his mom; she decided to start putting her foot down about it, too.

Now, I've decided my way to approach these prayers is to sit quietly, eyes open, arms unfolded. I do not say amen. I won't interfere with her ritual, but I won't participate either. It's the same way I've handled being at Islamic Friday prayers or Episcopal Eucharist; I watch, but I don't participate. I ask my son to be quiet, too, but I also won't have his grandparents telling him to fold his arms and participate. If they ever asked him directly, rather than the general "everybody fold your arms," I'd like to say, "That's your ritual, not ours. Don't ask my son to participate." When he's older and understands more what's going on, he can make a decision about it.

I think this weirded my in-laws out, especially at first, to not hear us say amen, to not see us unfold our arms and look up at the end of their prayer. I wondered if they'll even ask us why we don't participate. I would like to say something like, "I find it offensive to thank an unseen being for your food, when what went into getting this food on this table--the farmers, pickers, packers, truckers, grocers, you yourself as shopper and cook, as well as the earth, then sun, and the water--remain unacknowledged."

If I'd ever have the guts to say it.

Yesterday, though, it seemed like my mother-in-law is catching on. Instead of her usual universal call to prayer, she simply said, "I'm going to say a prayer now." I smiled. What a difference changing "we" to "I" and "the" to "a" made for me.

biting my tongue; speaking up

2007-08-13T05:55:00.000-07:00

My time with my Mormon relatives has found me alternatively biting my tongue and speaking up when I come across differences in our beliefs, values, and attitudes.

For example, I had a long conversation with my dad about sex work--more commonly known as prostitution--as a choice; how some people consciously enter the profession as one work option among many; how some have histories of sexual abuse, but not all; how some are addicted to crack or heroin, but not all; how the price of drugs affects the price of sexual exchanges; how legalizing prostitution would probably do the most to help them be treated as human beings as they should be, etc. My family knows I study this kind of stuff, so when it comes up, I am sure to voice my opinions and knowledge on the matter--all decidedly more liberal than what they would expect a good Mormon girl to have.

This conversation led my dad to share some experiences from his leadership position at church. He reported that he had a couple guys he's working with (as in, conducting a series of ecclesiastical interviews with) who have "problems with sexual addiction." I can't even bring myself to type that without the quotes. As he was telling me about this, I thought to myself, "Should I argue with him? Should I ask about the nature of these 'sexual addictions'? What, are they masturbating? 'Cause that's hardly an addition, unless they're doing it 50 times a day and can't get work done because of it."

As I listened to my dad, I discovered it was simply masturbation. It made me angry that something as natural and normal as that was "keeping them from going to the temple." I thought, "Well, it's you keeping them from going, because you bothered to ask them in the interview, and you think it's big enough a deal that it makes them 'unworthy'." I debated with myself whether or not to call my dad on this issue, to have a discussion about it. But then I remembered his biting his tongue when I talked about prostitution, and I decided to give him the same respect. Surely, he disagreed with me on prostitution just as profoundly as I did with him on masturbation.

(Plus, it would have been awkward to talk to my dad about masturbation. It came up once when I was a teenager. He was my bishop back then, and I had my semi-annual interview. He asked me if there was anything in the For Strength of Youth pamphlet that I wasn't sure about. I asked innocently, "What's masturbation?" He looked a bit embarrassed, smiled, and said, "I don't think you need to worry about that." That was almost as bad as my mom's birds-and-the-bees talk when I was Twelve. Twelve. "It's a very special thing that happens between a husband and a wife." Thanks, Mom.)

On another day, my mom said something intolerant about gender. I don't remember what it was--something about how ridiculous it is to count more than two genders?--but I knew I couldn't just let it slide. I launched into a discussion about the differences between sexual orientation and gender identity, and the experiences of gay Mormons. I wasn't combatant about it; I've found a way to discuss things I figure my family will disagree with in a way that is academic and detached. Rather than pin down what my opinion is, I say, "This is what research has shown..." or "Some would argue that..." or "One theory is that..." It may be a little cowardly, but I find it's more comfortable for them--and me. Then they don't have to worry about how influenced by the world I am, how liberal I am; they can just think I've knowledgeable about it, but more from the sidelines. I'm sure they think I'm an "intellectual apostate" and that my grad school education has made me put more value on evidence than faith. Which is true. But I don't have to rub it in their faces.

On another occasion, my dad and I were looking at the stars. I brought up Carl Sagan, and we discussed him for a minute. My dad has read his stuff, and used to watch Cosmos. (Sometimes I think my dad is an intellectual apostate at heart, if he would just quit that compartmentalization.) Then my dad said something about "Carl Sagan's world view" with a bit of disdain in his voice. I decided to let it pass that Sagan's world view and mine are quite similar. I decided to save the argument for another day. Instead, we continued to enjoy the "billions and billions" stars.

brave?

2007-08-09T10:44:00.001-07:00

If I drank coffee in front of my in-laws, does that count as rude or courageous?

Either way, it's frustratingly lame that it even matters to me. I can't believe my Mormon heritage exerts so much control over me that I have to think about whether or not to buy a cup of coffee on the road to help me stay awake.

The coffee was good, by the way.

my reply, part 4

2007-08-08T06:12:00.000-07:00

the final part of an email I wrote to my sister, continued from my reply, my reply part 2, and my reply part 3

What you see as my forgetting what I once thought about Mormonism and Christianity, as my dwelling on the negative aspects in favor of the positives, I see differently. I see a necessary, and at times painful, deconstruction of my old world view. I spent nearly 25 years seeing and being taught the positives, of thinking Mormonism was The Way, The Truth. What is it then, to spend a couple or even a few years, in dismantling and critically examining what I thought I once knew? I don’t see it as something bad I need to get over, but as a necessary stage in my personal development. I see it as dismantling the ruins of my destroyed house, chucking out what is broken, and sifting through to find that which is still workable, to build something new. Much as we shouldn’t see a teenager’s difficult times as immature angst and rebellion, but as an essential—though difficult—part of her growth toward personal identity and independence. That said, I don’t want to dwell in anger or sadness, nor do I want to cast them off immediately for happier emotions. I seek instead to understand them, feel them, work through them, and learn from them. I used to see anger as sin; I now see it as human.

Also from your email, and from one sent several months ago that I never replied to, I see that I have been self-centered about talking about my beliefs and changes, while ignoring yours. I hope you know that my egocentrism in this regard has stemmed from my multi-year, consuming examination of myself and my beliefs, rather than a disregard for yours. I recognize that I have simplified your complexity of belief into what I remember as my old beliefs. This is not accurate, to be sure, as we both have different experiences. I apologize for this. I also know how Mormonism characterizes people like me: prideful, lost in the dark and dreary wilderness, relying on the arm of flesh, worldly, they who are learned, apostate, hell-bound, etc. Can you imagine how hard it is to fight such ill-feelings, attitudes I myself developed, against myself? From this, I think, comes a too-eager desire to justify my new self and beliefs. I appreciated our conversation where you praised certain aspects of humanism. I hope I can find it easier to likewise praise the positives of your beliefs and attitudes, and to give you more room to express your thoughts about your beliefs, too.

I hope also that we can continue our conversations over the years (in better goodwill than I conducted our phone conversation). A good way, I think, to approach our continued religious differences is to look for commonalities on which to draw. I like, though, our ability and willingness to also talk about differences, too. Even if only by email.

I love you, and I'm glad we stopped in Utah for a while to spend time with you and everyone. I want to continue to feel comfortable coming to Utah, being with family, and enjoying each other's company.

fta

my reply, part 3

2007-08-07T05:51:00.000-07:00

from an email I wrote to my sister, continued from my reply and my reply, part 2

I said on the phone that Little FTA’s simple message from the movie was a “pretty good representation of what the movie was trying to say.” You took issue with this, and I can see why this offended you. I’m sorry I said it in such as way that hurt you rather than in such a way where we could have discussed our differences and learned more about each other.

I think my statement was due to two things. One, a short memory with regards to the movie. I haven’t seen the movie in many years. The only thing I remembered was the basic plot of one man’s struggle between the “good side” and the “bad, worldly side,” and his receiving forgiveness through Jesus at the end—while many died in the destruction. I had completely forgotten about many of the plot elements, such as the non-believers conspiracy to kill the believers. I had also forgotten that its main idea was based on a Book of Mormon story; had I remembered that, I could have recalled that conspiracy. Nevertheless, Little FTA’s young mind missed those elements.

Two, my humanist, rather than Christian, point of view. When I saw the movie as a Christian, I was touched, and buoyed by the power of forgiveness through Christ. That message of forgiveness is, indeed, quite powerful, whether or not Jesus was actually divine, as you said. This is why I found myself with a continued affinity for Christianity, long after I ceased to believe in his divinity. As time went on, though, I started to consider what I see as the fundamentals of Christianity—the desire or need for forgiveness of sins, the state of humans as fallen and in need of saving, one person as the archetype for living—an undesirable way to approach life. Expanding on the first fundamental, for example, I still see the benefits of forgiveness, surely, but I see the source of forgiveness more appropriately placed in the people who were hurt by the wrongdoing, whether it be self or others. Additionally, I do not see wrongdoing as sin, but as hurting self or others. I think it is fundamentally very close to the same thing, but with different terminology—forgiveness for sin, getting second chances, improving oneself, always trying to do better. I just don’t think we need an ultimate, outside source, a God, to forgive us for being human, for making mistakes, for living life as (very fallible) human beings.

Through Little FTA’s interpretation, I saw the movie as simplifying and vilifying the atheists, the secularists—me and Mr. FTA—as the “worldly, sinful, bad guys,” rather than people who appreciate the capacity and limitations of humankind, and seek to live life to the fullest (since this is the only life we are certain we have), while trying to make the world a better place and refraining from harming others. That is, I saw anti-secularism. From the more complete summary of the movie, I certainly agree that the people who wanted to kill others were in the wrong, the “bad guys,” in child’s terms. But then to have the resurrected Jesus’ kill them through fire and earthquake (for the Jesus of the Book of Mormon does claim these killings as his doing)? Why is his killing others justified? Why is God excused killing those who wanted to kill and those who simply didn’t believe, when he subsequently delivers his sermon of forgiveness and love in Third Nephi? This is like teaching your child to not hit her sibling by hitting her and yelling, “Don’t hit!” then talking about love and goodwill the next moment. While you got particular messages, such as the power of forgiveness, from the movie, I saw, as a humanist, different messages. Or rather, I reinterpreted based on my memory and your summary of the movie. I am curious if I watched the movie in full now, whether I would still make similar comments. I imagine I would, and I imagine I would have many more besides.

my reply, part 2

2007-08-06T04:07:00.000-07:00

from an email I wrote to my sister; continued from my reply

After all the accommodating on both sides that went on, I didn’t expect “the movie incident” at all. So when Little FTA watched The Testaments, I was shocked and angry. Yes, I think you are correct in seeing our philosophy as wanting to expose Little FTA to many beliefs, traditions, and ways of life. Little FTA’s been to Mormon, Unitarian, Congregationalist, Catholic, Quaker, and Islamic services. I’ve talked to him about Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Judaism, paganism, secularism. I’m fine with Little FTA being around food prayers, discussing with Your son about coffee, having a nativity set at Christmas, hearing (and singing) the Islamic call to prayer, etc. I see those as age-appropriate exposures. I can see that you thought watching The Testaments would be just another exposure in that list.

I see it differently. For one, I was with Little FTA for all the other exposures. The exception is a few prayers, but I had already had a chance to talk to him about why people pray before meals, and how I expect him to behave quietly and with respect (I recognize that he failed to do so sometimes, and I’ve talked to him about that). When I’m with him, I know what he hears and sees, and I can talk to him about things I disagree or agree with.

Two, I see The Testaments as a Mormon missionary tool—Mormon propaganda. I expect we’ll have to agree to disagree on that characterization, but that is how I see it. This is different than, say, The PBS series The Mormons (way above his head at this point, but I didn’t mind that he saw a few minutes of it at Sister-in-law2’s house), which is more objective and shows both insider and outsider perspectives.

Three, both Sister-in-law and Mom saw it as different. They immediately showed that they were worried about what I would think about Little FTA watching the movie—both of them apologized about it when I brought it up. This from people I hadn’t had much (in Sister-in-law’s case any) religious talks with. With other exposures, though, they seemed not to be concerned.

Additionally, that movie, even minus its religious content, isn’t something I would let Little FTA see anyway; it’s just not meant for 4/5 year olds. As its target audience is not 4/5 year olds, Little FTA didn’t really retain that much from the movie. I’m not worried about him. (When I asked him about it the other day, after receiving your email, he just characterized it as “boring.”) Whatever its intended message, Little FTA got two things out of it—the bad guys died, and the bad guys said there was no God. Most of my anger came from this, what he got out of it: a simple message that vilified his own parents. Imagine if I showed Your son a movie from which he understood the bad guys were the Mormons, even if this movie had a broader message about, say, humanism!

my reply

2007-08-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

I finally reached an even-enough state of emotions to reply to my sister's email. It turned out I had a whole lot to say, so I'll take more than one day to post it here. I will not post my sister's email that prompted my reply, out of respect for her privacy. I apologize in advance for any ambiguity or confusion this may cause as you read my reply. If you need clarifications, please say so in the comments, and I will try to explain.

Understanding Sister-

I thank you for your honesty in your email. I will admit the email threw me a bit and even hurt for a while. It’s taken me several days to muster up the strength and mindset to reply. But I’d rather have that honesty than to have us tiptoe around each other. Your email sounded like you felt attacked, and I’m sorry my tone to you on the phone was less than cordial. I did not mean to attack you or your beliefs, certainly. I apologize for my tone on the phone, as well as for the phone conversation itself. That sort of conversation is best had in person. It was a mistake to call you when I was angry, rather than wait three days to talk about it, like I did with Sister-in-law. And since I passed up the in-person opportunity to talk, I apologize for that, too.

I think part of my tone and how I handled the phone conversation (and, likely, this can be broadened to include other conversations) came from a couple things. One, I think of you as “my understanding sister,” the one I am most open to about matters of religion (and other things), but also the one who accepts me as different, pushes me, questions me, etc. This familiarity, this understanding, let me be more lax on how I approached you (e.g. as compared to Sister-in-law and Mom on this same matter). I can see that was a mistake. Now I see that our continued understanding and conversations rests partly on respect and good, old-fashioned niceness. I will be more careful—though I hope to continue to be just as honest—in the future.

Two, I didn’t believe it had been you that was supervising Little FTA when he watched the movie. I figured it had been Sister-in-law, and only wanted confirmation from you on the phone. Because of that, I felt I could be more open to you, while putting on my most diplomatic approach for her. Again, a mistake.

Three, as you are “my understanding sister,” I was shocked when you asked, “Is that [his seeing the movie] a problem?” I didn’t expect that, and I was confused and despairing that perhaps all that understanding between us wasn’t what I thought it was, not as deep as I thought. I, like you, had made assumptions based on our past conversations, and, like you, was upset to find my assumptions were off the mark. I continued the phone conversation in this height of emotion, rather than calm down and think about it first, as I should have done.

Four, I saw the “movie incident” as opening years and years of incidents, confrontations, negotiations, and misunderstandings that I foresee as we—the whole family—raise our children differently. I had worried before we came to Utah how I would handle things, whether I should have some talks with everyone even before we came, if that was necessary or just offensive. I even had an entire therapist session dedicated to my worries about being with the family in Utah again. I figured talking about some boundaries (such as your much-appreciated question as to how to handle prayer with Little FTA around) was a good idea, but the thought also made me extremely uncomfortable.

To talk to you all about it would mean we needed to talk about it. As if you were ignorant enough, uncaring enough, unaware enough, that we’d have to point things out to you. Which you’re not. I felt like having to sit down and tell everyone, “Listen, don’t bring up religion around my son; don’t tell him how Heavenly Father is God and Jesus is alive; don’t tell him that Joseph Smith is second only to Jesus” would be the equivalent of you telling me, “Listen, you can only baby sit our kids if you promise not to tell them there is no God and that Joseph Smith was a charismatic charlatan.” That would just be insulting and misguided, because I would never say that to your kids. I don’t even say that to my own kid. I wanted to give everyone the benefit of the doubt; I wanted to be hopeful that saying those things would be unnecessary. That we’d all be aware and nice enough to respect each other’s religious choices and how we want to raise our own kids. I figured all was going well. Everyone seemed quite respectful and basically avoided religion other than those parts that are in every day life, i.e. dinner prayer, Dad’s off to meetings again, etc. Not a problem.

I continued to worry (probably too much) about what I was doing and trying hard not to step on anyone’s toes. This is why, for example, I reported that conversation I had with Little FTA and your son about coffee. I figured, “If Understanding Sister had a conversation with Little FTA about religious restrictions, I would prefer to hear about its contents, so I’ll tell Understanding Sister what I told her son.” Also, I agonized about the times I found myself (I certainly didn’t plan it) wearing sleeveless shirts around the family (Am I making them uncomfortable? Do they feel like I’m rubbing it in their faces that I don’t wear garments anymore? Should I change my wardrobe around the family, or not? It’s just a shirt! But if it’s just a shirt, why not accommodate them?) I carefully watched my words about evolution, pretending about dragons, why we don’t go to church, etc., whenever it came up with Sister-in-law’s kids. I held my tongue in several conversations with adults.

(Writing all that, and seeing how trivial my worries seem now compared to how I really offended you—at the core of your beliefs about Mormonism and Christianity in general—I think that I should reevaluate my thinking with regards to relations with you and the family. It is those littler things that seem to come up more, though, to be the most visible, to be the simplest to confront. Perhaps that is why my focus has been more there.)

to be continued...

missionary opportunity, missed

2007-08-02T07:57:00.000-07:00

As I walked down the street, heading over to join my husband at a cafe, I saw some Mormon missionaries. In amusement, I watched their mild panic as they tried to decide whether or not they should try to talk to me.

"Potential convert...woman alone...potential convert...young woman alone...tight shirt...oh, man..." They walked on past, and I smiled to myself.

I told Mr. FTA that I walked past some elders, and Mr. FTA told me he'd seen them too.

He was sitting at the little outdoor cafe with his parents and sister, having cold drinks on a hot day. They saw the Mormon missionaries walk by on the other side of the street.

Mr. FTA: I guess they weren't listening to the Spirit. If they had been, they would have known to cross the street. They could have gotten free cold drinks.

SIL: Oh, shut-up.

follow-up

2007-07-31T08:48:00.000-07:00

I got an email from my understanding sister about the indoctrination incident. She had known my son was watching the movie, and on the spot decided that we wouldn't mind him watching it. Why? Because she's seen our philosophy on raising him is to expose him to all sorts of ideas. That I was mad about him being exposed in this way led her to think I'm more anti-Mormon than I claim to be, and even anti-Christian. That I dwell too much on the negative aspects of those traditions that I can't see any positive in them. She said she and others feel like I think they're stupid for being Mormon, that they are blind followers.

The letter upset me greatly. It needs a reply, but I haven't gotten into the frame of mind to write it. I toyed with the idea of just being brutally honest and sending her my blog posts (telling her it's my journal). I just read through them again, though, and, well, I do sound like I think Mormons are stupid, don't I?

I was mulling this all over while giving my son a bath.

"Mom," he said, "why aren't you doing anything? Why aren't you talking?"

I didn't reply.

Moo-oommm," he repeated, "why aren't you talking?"

"I'm sad," I answered simply.

"Why?" he asked innocently.

"Because I'm different," I replied, thinking of how my family will never understand me again.

"That's no reason to be sad!" he retorted. I am always telling him it's okay to be different.

"Well," I explained, "they think that what makes me different makes me bad."

"You're not bad. That's not a reason to be sad, Mom!"

"I know, honey, I know."

coffee, cigarettes, and cognitive dissonance

2007-07-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

Chilling with my never-Mormon sister-in-law (finally, someone I can really be myself around!), I decided a afternoon iced coffee was in order. So on the way to our kids' swimming lessons, we stopped by a shop and ordered a iced latte for me, an iced green tea for her, and an ice water for the kids. After the lessons, she dropped me off at our mutual mother-in-law's place. This was the first MIL had seen of me and my son since the big family reunion in June, so she came out to the car to greet us.

I couldn't help but notice where her eyes drifted: right to the cup holders where three Starbucks cups sat, empty. As she talked to us and the kids, her eyes went from one cup to the next, to the next, and back to the first. She must have looked four times at each one. Her face showed mild confusion.

I smiled, because I recognized that look. I've made it myself. It was the look I had on my face when I saw cigarette butts in Jack-Mormon brother- and never-Mormon sister-in-law's flower bed in front of their house. I looked and looked at those cigarette butts, trying to figure out how they could possibly have gotten there. That my brother-in-law smoked couldn't be the explanation. Could they be from his non-Mormon friends? He was too good, too Mormon (never mind that he hadn't attended since high school), too father-of-two. My brain wouldn't really let me have the thought that the cigarettes were his, though it should have been the most obvious. They were, of course, his.

Just as the coffee cup was, of course, mine. Perhaps it had never occurred to my mother-in-law, just as it had never occurred to me, that people who leave the church probably don't follow the silliest of the rules.

keywords

2007-07-27T04:51:00.000-07:00

from the ashes
emerging from the ashes

ex mormon blog
mormon aftermath

post mormon depression
http://emergingfromtheashes.blogspot.com/

ex mormons
aaronic priests coping old testament

visiting mormon service
what does 8 meg mean?

lds stance on homosexuality
notary public utah for leaving lds church

damuites
do mormon's help with funerals

what does mormon mean?
Baptize

from ashes of atheism
why does my son a morman invite me his mother a non morman on family trips

ex mormon blog ashes
wry catcher

if you chance to meet a frown
resurrection of jesus preschool song

mormon missing persons utah
disaffected mormon

mormons origins ethnicity
exiting emerging in family values

further light and knowledge anonymous
ex-mormon to non-believer

christian supernaturalists
lds therapist blog

lightening therapy
ex mormon jews

jonathan blake tithing
lds wedding quotes

shunned mormons
describe mormon funeral

drinking at byu
don't pray about mormonism billboard

past dealings

2007-07-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'm now in California, staying at my in-laws place. They are not here yet, so we have the house to ourselves. Besides unpacking and settling in, then, I'm steeling myself against the inevitable Mormon/ex-Mormon clashes. Like my family, my husband's family has been pretty good. As far as the siblings go, his has been far, far better, in fact.

I have nothing to base my trepidations on other than past behavior of my mother-in-law. And since past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior...

Incident 1: When I was still quite devout, Jack Mormon brother-in-law and his never-Mormon now-wife had a baby. Mother-in-law approached me from my opinion: Should she ask if father-in-law could bless the baby in church? Did I think that's appropriate? Being what I was when I was devout, I saw nothing wrong with that, and, in fact, that it would be a good thing to expose both child and mother to The Truth. (I'm so embarrassed now.) Baby was never blessed, thank goodness.

Incident 2: Mother-in-law had an never-Mormon tenant in the guest room. The tenant liked coffee. Naturally, the tenant placed her own coffee maker in the kitchen, as her hosts didn't have one and that's where coffee makers go. Mother-in-law explained to me that she told the tenant that if she was going to drink coffee, it would have to be in the privacy of her own room. Coffee maker must remain in the bedroom. Didn't I think that was perfectly reasonable and appropriate? At the time, yes, I did. Now, no. Live your own rules, fine, but don't extend your sense of "morality" onto others.

Incident 3: I had made my break from the church, but no one knew that yet. We were at a family reunion, and mother-in-law hoped that this would be the perfect chance to ask Jack-Mo BIL and his wife to come to church with everyone else. Go as a family, you know. Like there would be only positive pressure to come when the other two dozen people were going, too. She tried to recruit us to help ask them to come. We flat-out told her that we already arranged with them to do something fun on Sunday while everyone else would be at church. That was her first big clue that we had changed. She didn't say anything about it for six months.

Incident 4: Christmas time. She wanted more than anything to ask all of us evil apostate children to join her at church on Christmas day. Just like she had on Incidents 1 & 2, she sought confirmation from a devout member if this would be appropriate. Only this time, I wasn't the devout one, so she asked her daughter, the one we stayed with in Utah. Didn't she think it good to ask everyone to come to church? Was it too much to ask for everyone to be at church together on Christmas Sunday? Is that too big a request? Bless her heart, sister-in-law clearly stated that yes, that would be too much to ask. We didn't go. (I only just realized that I hurt my mother-in-law further by being perfectly willing to go to the non-denominational church with my never-Mormon sister-in-law. But that was on Christmas Eve, not Christmas morning. All the other churches were smart enough to have their services on Christmas Eve.)

Incident 5: Six months after Incident 3. A few days after Incident 4. Mother-in-law decides it's time for The Talk. It was terrible timing, considering we had just left a party because my husband had a migraine. But she wanted us alone, and that was the only time we were. She told us "this" would be hard, but it would be harder for us, since she had The Truth already, and we were just searching. To borrow from SML, Niiiice.

Incident 6: Over the phone, she half-jokingly asks my husband if we were going to church again. "No," he answered simply. She explained that she wanted to be able to joke about it, talk about it. I interpreted that to mean, "I want to be able to joke about your apostasy. But if you joke about my church, I'll kill you." Am I too cynical?

So, yeah, we're a little nervous about what to expect.

unclear boundaries, and leaving Utah

2007-07-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

Apparently, the Boundaries are still a bit unclear, especially with my mom. Since I had a talk with her, I've heard her say a deceased baby "is in heaven now" and "the Lord" helped my nephew remember where he hid the computer mouse. Groan. I can't tell you how many times I have held my tongue, or adjusted my language, or just left the room since I've been in Utah. I practically put on a different personality when I step into my parents' house; can't she at least refrain from stating her religious opinions when my son is around? (Her answer would be, No, because they aren't opinions. It's just Truth.)

My sister-in-law, though, actually turned off the TV on Sunday when her sons put on Veggie Tales, because my son was feeling left out when I asked him to come away from the TV room. I was touched. (And the kids had more fun and fresh air playing together outside anyway.)

I suppose my boundaries talk with my mom wasn't clear enough. But we're leaving Utah today and won't be around her for another year or so.

Now we're heading to California for a visit. Aaahhh, for the chance to walk around town in a tank top and not feel like people think I'm a slut.

10 weird things, ex-mo style

2007-07-23T04:25:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by Julieann to describe 1o weird or different experiences I've had. Since she specifically told me she tagged me, I can't pretend I didn't see it.

Well, I guess I could. But I'm not.

But I'm ignoring the part about tagging others, because I don't know who would satisfy all three of my criteria (one, reads my blog; two, does this sort of thing; and three, hasn't already been tagged on this one). So if you feel so inclined, feel free to continue. I'll deal with the bad luck of not actually tagging you.

1) My husband managed "the roommate switch," successfully asking me out after dating my BYU roommate--without offending either of us.

2) I was born into a Mormon family. I mean, come on, what are the odds? Mormons make up like 0.0001%* of all the humans in history!

3) My parents wanted me to dress in a funky white and green outfit and make a funny handshake while getting married.

4) I dressed in a funky white and green outfit and made a funny handshake while I got married.

5) Once, when I was about 6, my mom lost her checkbook. I prayed, and felt I should check under her bed. I found it there. (I still have the sneaking suspicion that I was the one that put it there in the first place.)

6) I was once chased by elephants. Three of them.

7) (Oh, did I mention that elephant thing already?)

8) I already know what happens to Harry. I read all 7 books, 4125 pages, within 5 months. Adding up the repeat reads, I read 10155 pages of Potter. In 7 years.

9) I read the Book of Mormon 14 times. 7434 pages. It took 13 years.

10) Once I swore I could feel sound waves, none stronger than regular human voices, hitting against my head, then passing across to the other side.

*or something

the Boundaries Talk

2007-07-20T04:19:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: No one's memory is perfect. Mine certainly isn't. But I wanted to present this in dialogue form. Understand that it is paraphrased, but I think I got the gist of it, along with the tone.

After three days of avoiding the house where, currently, both my parents and my brother and sister-in-law live, I knew I had to muster up the courage to finally talk to my SIL and my mom about the Boundaries of what is and is not allowed around my son. I won't be in Utah that much longer, and I didn't want to spend the rest of the trip hiding in my host's house, keeping my son away from his cousins for fear of him being Mormon-ized again. So I strapped my son into the car and drove out there.

When I walked in, already nervous and dreading what was coming, I overheard my mom and sister, who was visiting, talking about Jesus. I sent my son in a direction away from their conversation. My heart sank. Here I am, ready to tell them that I cannot tolerate my son watching movies about Jesus, and they're going off about him being the One True Shepherd, the Light, the Life, and the Truth. Instead of walk into their conversation and say hello, I turned the other direction, and loudly stomped across the room toward my son, letting them know someone was in the house. Their conversation stopped, and they greeted me warmly. I put off the Boundaries Talk.

Later, my sister-in-law and I found ourselves alone (miraculously, given that there were six kids and five adults in the house right then), and I knew I had to talk to her about the movie she showed my son. It was time for The Boundaries talk I so far had avoided. I couldn't leave the house without talking to her. I just couldn't be my usual non-confrontational self and let it slide. As I examined my feet, trying to get up the guts, I was surprised to hear her start the conversation:

Sister-in-law: apologetically FTA? Did that make you uncomfortable when my son asked you about going to church? Would you rather not talk about that stuff?
FTA: Oh, no, it was fine. Actually, I don't mind talking about it at all. It's just that I hadn't prepared myself to answer a 7-year-old.
SIL: Oh, yeah, that makes sense.
FTA: It just surprised me.
SIL: Uh-huh. I think, just because it was Sunday, he was thinking about it...
FTA: Sure.

Pause. She didn't mention the movie. Damn. Now I have to.

FTA: mustering up strength Um, actually, I wanted to talk to you. About Little FTA watching The Testaments.:I really don't want him watching Mormon movies.
SIL: sincerely Oh, yeah, that was really weird. I didn't know what to do. It was Sunday, and my kids picked that movie. I didn't want to have them watch Shrek on Sunday, but I also didn't know what to do about Little FTA. I didn't want to make him leave the room or anything!
FTA: Yeah, I'm sure that was weird. And you didn't know. I know you weren't, like, trying to do it or anything.
SIL: No, not at all.
FTA: I just don't want that again, you know? And any religion talk or questions that come up, I'd rather you just defer Little FTA to me. And I'll do the same for your kids, if something comes up.
SIL: Sure.
FTA: You know, you want to raise your kids your way, and I want to raise mine my way. And it's probably best that we just defer to each other. We believe different things, and I don't want us fighting about that. The relationship is the most important thing, and I don't want our different beliefs getting in the way.
SIL: Yes! Totally, we love you guys. And it seems like you've done a really good job with things so far.
FTA: Good. Thanks.

Pause. Heartened by how the conversation was going well so far, I continued.

FTA: And, well, with that movie, Little FTA didn't get a great message out of it. When we talked to him about it afterwards, he said the bad guy got killed by a wall falling on him, and he was bad because he said he didn't believe in God.
SIL: explaining, rather than arguing I think the point of that was more that he was bad because he was trying to get others to come to his side.
FTA: suppressing a comment about how Mormons do that all the time Okay, I could see that they movie was trying to do that. But coming to a little kid like Little FTA, it came out differently. And, well, he knows that we don't believe there is a God, so it's not a good situation to have your kid watch a movie that tells him his parents are bad guys. You know?
SIL: Oh, I can see that's not good. in a Little FTA voice Mommy, is a wall going to fall on you?
FTA: Yes, exactly. Not good.
SIL: No, I understand.
FTA: So, yeah, let's just try to defer questions. If religion comes up with your kids while Little FTA is around, just try to keep it simple, like, "This is what we believe, but others believe differently," and just send him to me. And I'll do the same for your kids.
SIL: Sure, yeah, of course.

We were then interrupted then, but I felt the conversation went as far as it needed to. I'd made it over one hurtle.

But I also knew I needed to talk to my mom about it. That Boundaries talk should have happened long ago, and now that I finally had something to precipitate it, I forced myself to bring it up.

FTA: Listen, Mom? SIL and I already talked about this, but I wanted to discuss it with you.
Mom: looks up expectantly
FTA: So, um, about Little FTA and religion. Well, if religion or religious questions come up when Little FTA is around, I'd prefer that you defer him to me. I said the same to SIL, that we'd just defer each other's kids to one another.
Mom: Well--
FTA: I just wanted to talk about it, rather than not talk about it, you know? And not leave people wondering.
Mom: Sure. Has something happened?
FTA: Well, Little FTA watched The Testaments.
Mom: apologetically I didn't know. I had been upstairs, and I came down just as it was finishing.
FTA: No, I understand, and it's not like SIL--well, it was awkward for her too.
Mom: I'm sure.
FTA: It's just that Little FTA didn't come away from it with a good message.
Mom: sympathetically Oooh.
FTA: Yeah, so, like I talked to SIL, I'd just rather leave it to the parents and try to avoid religion with the kids.
Mom: Have I done anything?
FTA: No, it's been fine. Really. We haven't felt--just the movie.
Mom: slightly annoyed I'm not trying to shove anything down his throat or anything.
FTA: No, no, I haven't felt like you have. It's just that, you know, like how I've handled it with Nephew when he had a question. I said, "Well, we believe this and you believe differently, and that's okay." You know, that's how I would want it handled.
Mom: Well, is VeggieTales okay?
FTA: Um, that'd be something I'd rather be asked about before. I'd probably have to watch it with him, to know what he's being exposed to.
Mom: looking worried that the VeggieTale veto might mean I don't believe in the Judeo-Christian God
Little FTA: interrupting I love VeggieTales!
FTA: to Little FTA I know, honey, we used to watch those a lot, huh? to Mom So, yeah.
Mom: Okay.

And that was that. We had the conversation. I'm not naive enough to think it will be the last Boundaries conversation, but at least I got it started.

in addition to the incident

2007-07-19T05:19:00.000-07:00

Another minor incident occurred along with the Mormon movie incident. Since it plays a part in how I ended up talking to my sister-in-law about it, I report that incident here.

On Sunday, when I was just beginning to suspect my son had just watched The Testaments, but I wasn't sure, my not-quite-baptized nephew asked, "Why don't you go to church?" I looked at the DVD in his hands. It was The Testaments.

"What?" I asked, not sure I had heard him right. Or perhaps I was simply wishing I hadn't heard him right. Something was stirring in me. Shock, swiftly becoming anger, that my son had seen that movie.

"Why don't you go to church?" Was it just me, or was I detecting something other than innocent questioning? Had they been discussing us? Does he already have it in his head that people that don't go to church are somehow bad?

I wasn't prepared to answer this question from a child. With an adult, I could go into things, but a child?

"Well." I paused. "Husband and I think it's not the best place for us to be right now."

"Why?" he pressed.

Dammit. "Um," I stalled as I tried to think of something safe for a child, his mother, and all the other children in the room. Something about it making some people happy, but we're happier without the church.

His mom let me off the hook with, "Everyone gets to make their own choice. That was their choice." She said it very kindly. I'm sure she meant it. But behind it, I saw the Mormon teaching that, sure, we made that choice, but it was The Wrong One.

Between that, and the fact that my son had just been shown that awful movie was sinking into me, I wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, and we left quickly afterward.

more on the indoctrination incident

2007-07-18T04:29:00.000-07:00

I don’t need ALL religious talk avoided. We talk with my other sister- and brother-in-law about Mormonism quite often (too often?) in front of our son. Hell, we’ve even argued heatedly about whether or not Joseph was a pimp-daddy, my son sitting quietly on my lap. It think it’s unavoidable, and not necessary to avoid, saying things like, “Church starts at eleven,” or “Dad has church meetings tonight,” or even, “My church teaches me that I shouldn’t drink coffee.” But with my family, it goes beyond that. We’ve got nephews telling my husband it’s bad to smoke when he showed up with an empty pipe for a costume party. We’ve got our son coming home and saying things like, “Sunday is a break day. We shouldn’t swim on Sunday.” We’ve got his cousin telling him coffee is bad. And now Sunday morning screenings of Mormon propaganda. And that’s just what I noticed.

Writing it down like that makes it seem so trivial. But it’s the attitude behind it. The attitude that their way is The Way, and that we’re just doing it wrong. The attitude that let’s them say, “Coffee is bad” instead of “I don’t drink coffee, because I believe God doesn’t want me to. But other people think it’s okay. Scientists say it's okay for your body.” The attitude that lets them say, “That’s how Heavenly Father made things,” instead of “Isn’t nature beautiful?” The attitude that colors everything they say with “This is how it is,” instead of “This is how I do it.”

So I never bothered to talked to them about it, and it ended in this movie. Instead, I selectively choose babysitters. My sister is a good choice, because I’ve had many conversations with her about things, and she doesn’t just assume things about me. For example, she asked me, “So how do you want me to handle it when I say prayers with my son and your son is around?” It meant so much to me that she was aware enough to ask. No one else has. I explained to her that we’ve told our son that he needs to be quiet while other people pray, but that he doesn’t have to close his eyes, bow his head, or fold his arms—even if someone asks him to. No one has, though. Which makes me think they are at least somewhat aware. Which lulled me into a false sense of security, I suppose, and I never had The Boundaries discussion with anyone.

So it’s time to discuss with her, and with others. What to what point? How? Do I lay it all down, give them my exit story (edited, likely), tell them I resigned? Say it plainly and clearly that I’m an atheist and that I’ll be raising my son secularly, thank you very much. I hate having to bring it up, because I know it hurts them. I hate bringing it up, because it shows them how much further “gone” I am than they let themselves think. It’s never easy to start up such a conversation. I fear I am incapable of doing it without getting emotional, without raging and ranting, without making them think I’m a bitter ex-Mormon. My family, in general, avoids talking about anything that brings up unhappy feelings. Contention is of the Devil, you know. And confusion, fear, negativity, anger, jealousy, cognitive dissonance, making waves...

How do I word it? How do I say it? Do I talk in person? Do I email? Do I keep it to a minimum, or go all out? I want to do it without making my SIL feel like I’m blaming her. I know I need to talk to them, but my tact so far has been Avoid the House. And that's just lame.

the indoctrination incident

2007-07-17T04:24:00.000-07:00

On Sunday morning, when I went to pick up my son after an overnight baby sit, I saw that he and his cousins had just finished watching The Testaments. The Testaments. Mormon propaganda-missionary tool that tells a story about Jesus coming to America and killing all the non-believers.

And you know what my young son gleaned from the movie? He couldn’t tell me what it was about, but he did retain that the Bad Guy was killed by a wall falling on him. And what made him bad? "He said there was no God." He was an evil atheist worthy of death because of his beliefs. You don’t show that movie to a child of atheist parents. Can I put that in all caps? Because I sure want to.

YOU DON’T SHOW THAT MOVIE TO A CHILD OF ATHEIST PARENTS.

It wasn’t my understanding sister that showed it to him; it was my sister-in-law. I was mad. So mad I could barely eat. So mad I was practically shaking. I find I can’t be that mad at my sister-in-law, though, because, in all fairness, I’ve never told her anything about my beliefs more than “My path is away from the Mormon church right now.” She had no idea we’re atheists. She has no idea that her showing that movie to my son is the equivalent to me showing her kids the Godmakers.

I’m mad at myself for never setting the boundaries.

I’m mad at Mormonism for influencing her to think the way she must: that exposing my son to Mormon ideas can only be a good thing. It’s pompous; it’s ignorant; it’s conceited. But for her, it’s totally normal. I doubt it occurred to her to at least call us first and ask if it’s okay (the answer would have been no). I seriously doubt she consciously thought that she needed to go behind my back to teach my son the Truth. She wasn’t being devious or manipulative about it. Her world view told her it was fine and right, that it was hardly worth thinking about it. I should assume that it was just outside her thought process at the time to think maybe it wasn’t okay.

But I can’t assume that. Because I remember how I thought about my nephews who are not being raised Mormon. I remember how I thought it would be great to expose them to the church. I remember how I went with my Christian sister-in-law and her son to see Legacy years ago, hoping it would soften her heart and get her son curious about the church. (Talk about karma coming back to bite me--but at least my nephew's parents we with him!) I remember what’s it’s like to hope, deep in my heart, that they’d convert someday. I remember what it’s like to truly believe my way was the best way, the Only True Way.

And I know that it never occurred to me that that was pompous, conceited, and ignorant.

to be continued...

the problem with babysitters

2007-07-16T04:01:00.000-07:00

Since we’ve been in Utah, we’ve gotten family members to baby sit. Since all of our family in Utah are faithful, devout Mormons, we’ve been very choosey about who to have baby sit out son. The sister-in-law we’re staying with is great; the sister-who-actual talks to me is fine; I even asked the sister-whose-husband-left-the-church. I’ve never asked the most natural choice, my mom. She’s grown suspicious about why that might be and thinks I must hate her (that’s her low self-esteem and depression talking, unfortunately). Everyone is a capable babysitter, surely, all being parents themselves.

But there’s this little problem of them being Molly Mormons and Peter Priesthoods. Of being so engrained in the Mormon social life and culture, that they don’t even realize they are talking, acting, thinking Mormon when they are. For this reason, my husband suggested we lay down some boundaries with potential babysitters about what we consider crossing the line. I knew this was a good idea, but it also made me extremely uncomfortable. You see, to talk to them about it would mean we needed to talk to them about it. That they are ignorant enough, uncaring enough, unaware enough, that we’d have to point things out to them.

I felt like having to sit down and tell them, “Listen, don’t bring up religion around my son; don’t tell him how Heavenly Father is God and Jesus is alive, don’t tell him that Joseph Smith is second only to Jesus” would be the equivalent of them telling me, “Listen, you can only baby sit our kids if you promise not to tell them there is no God and that Joseph Smith was a liar.” That would just be insulting and misguided, because I would never say that to their kids. I don’t even say that to my own kid. I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt; I wanted to be hopeful that saying those things would be unnecessary. That we’d all be aware and nice enough to respect each other’s religious choices and how we want to raise our own kids.

Also, I felt that asking them to avoid religion talk would be like asking them to chop off their own arm. They just couldn’t do it. It’s not just church—it’s daily life, daily conversation, their way of understanding and negotiating the world. I honestly feel that if I asked my mom to avoid religious talk around my son, she’d say, “How I am supposed to do that?”

to be continued...

living arrangements

2007-07-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

We were invited and chose to live with my husband's sister and her husband during our stay in Utah. This decision came in large part because this sister and her husband have been able to be quite open with us when it comes to discussing our disaffection. I've never put down my argument for why I think Joseph Smith was faking it, but we talk about atheism versus believing, drinking beer, how it strains relationships, etc. She'll be my designated driver, even. It's comforting and refreshing. It's the only place where I can really be myself.

After a week or so of staying here, though, we noticed a definite strain in my sister-in-law from the conversations. After one such discussion, we went to bed. As we lay there, we could hear my sister-in-law crying to her husband. We couldn't make out the words, nor did we want to, but we knew she was obviously upset. Whether or not it had to do with us, it still concerned us, especially my husband.

"Listen," he said to me in the dark. "I think we should just avoid all Mormon talk with her from now on. I think it's too much for her."

"Yeah, okay," I responded.

But inside, I had just died. I had just lost my ally, my safe haven. The one place I could talk about it with believing family members. Gone. I wanted to cry.

seeing grandpa again

2007-07-12T06:42:00.000-07:00

My grandpa died a few years ago, when I was still a devout, believing Mormon. He'd had a rough life, what with being a Mormon alcoholic. Sometimes, I didn't see him for years at a time. There were even times I didn't know if he was still alive. But he'd always show up again, bringing gifts. I loved him; everyone loved him. We all just wished he'd stop drinking. Sometimes now I wonder how much of an alcoholic he really was. I could see my mom defining "alcoholic" as someone who got drunk sometimes. But thinking back, realizing he couldn't keep a job, got DUIs in the middle of the day, and called from jail now and then, I believe he really had a problem.

I now wonder how badly his problem was exacerbated by Mormonism. Not that Mormonism worsened his alcoholism, but that it made the guilt horrendous, and it strained his relations with his devout children even more. They saw his alcoholism not only as a physical challenge, but a spiritual one, too. For him, I imagine, managing to drink only one was an accomplishment. To my family, it was a failure. He could never please them.

The last few years of his life he settled in a town not too far away, so we got to see him more often. To everyone's happy astonishment, he "cleaned up" long enough to get a temple recommend again and visit the temple. Within months, he had died, alone in his bed.

I had seen him two months before he died, but his death was traumatic for me. He was my first grandparent to die, and he was my favorite, too. It took at least a couple days before the landlord realized he was dead, and a few more days before the death was not ruled a suicide. The autopsy showed he died slowly, in pain. It was not an open casket funeral, so I felt cheated of that last visit. As weird and disturbing as viewings can be, I believe they help with mourning.

I wanted so bad to see him again. I'd heard of a relative who reports she sees the spirits of the deceased at their funerals, every time. Everyone talked about it as her spiritual gift. At the funeral, I hoped that might work for me. I had faith that I could. I let myself think that maybe that thing I saw out of the corner of my eye was him, contacting us from the spiritual world. But really, I knew it was just the light, streaming in through the stained glass. I saw nothing, and was disappointed in my own lack of faith.

Soon after, I went to the temple. Surely, I thought, I could see him there. I mustered up all my faith, telling myself I knew I could see him. In the chapel, in the endowment room, in the celestial room, I thought about him, willing the heavens to open up and let me catch just a glimpse. Of course, I saw nothing. I lost him all over again.

sweet pleasures

2007-07-06T04:51:00.000-07:00

I stopped by BYU campus today, because I needed an in-hard-copy-only article from the library. Driving up the hill, I couldn't help but notice the new Hinckley building, recently dedicated. It's prominently placed on the edge of the hill near the Tanner building, and not too bad looking. Certainly better looking than the buildings built in the 1970s. I wondered if the Hinckley building is the only one to be named after a prominent church leader while he was still alive. (I guess he preferred a worldly building to a mansion laid up in heaven, eh?)

As I walked across a quad toward the library, I noticed the clean-shaven, short-haired men, and the modest women, sometimes in 3 shirts (cute, low-cut or spaghetti strap shirt; a chemise to cover up the garment top; and the garment top). Overly dressed for the 100 degree weather. I'm no fashion guru, to be sure, and I know the layered look is "in" this summer, but a spaghetti strap shirt does not look good with a white T-shirt underneath. It just doesn't. That Mormon version of the fashion came in to style in my high school, years ago. When I saw it, I turned to my friend and said, "Promise me that if I ever even consider thinking about possibly wearing one of those, beat me up until I've had some sense knocked into me. Please." That said, I myself used to take pains to keep my wardrobe garment-friendly, but I did so by simply not buying things that didn't cover my garments. Low-cut, sleeveless, midriffs, etc., were just not a part of my wardrobe. Sorry, but I'm not going to put on 2 extra shirts when it's freaking hot outside, just so I can wear the latest fashion. But that's just me. Sorry to anyone who did or does that. Off my soapbox now. (My favorite shirt is a spaghetti strap. I feel so scandalously not frumpy when I wear it.)

On campus, I smiled at myself that I was walking around as a non-LDS person, but an alumna. My dirty little secret, with no one the wiser. I went into a computer lab to look up the call number of the book I needed, and was happy that BYU, unlike my current university, allows alumni to keep their log-in privileges. While online, I remembered that BYU, unlike my current university, restricts which websites students can access. As a little jab, and out of curiosity, I googled the ex-Mormon discussion board, FLAK, and was pleased to find that BYU didn't restrict it as An Evil Site Spawned by the Devil. Maybe I should have googled "hot chicks" just to see if I would be banned from ever logging in again. Later, I passed by a set of bathrooms on the second floor of the library, and thought fondly of c.l.hanson, and her little way of rebelling as an non-believer at BYU.

Walking back to the car, I smiled nostalgically that while at BYU, I became more liberal, politically and religiously. I then drove to a Barnes & Noble in Orem. I perused a couple atheist books, slightly surprised that the store carried them and didn't even make them hard to find. Then I ordered a coffee at the Starbucks there, and read the article I'd just copied at the library. I noticed the others in the cafe: long-haired, goateed, body pierced, tattooed, coffee drinkers. And, once again, I smiled, and wished I were wearing a sleeveless shirt to let them know I was one of them. But then I remembered I had a cup of coffee in front of me, and that was just as effective at announcing my status.

Ah, the sweet pleasures of life.

science

2007-07-05T11:04:00.000-07:00

I was quite mistrustful of science when I was a kid. Actually, until I left the church. I liked science, I was interested in it, and I did really well in science classes. But I never truly trusted science. Why? It didn't mix well with church teachings. And I gave church teachings precedent. If there was a discrepancy, I generally adjusted science to church teachings, rather than the other way around.

The biggest issues were evolution and the age the earth. By ninth grade biology, I was learning evolution (yes, in Utah), but the focus, as I remember it, was on micro-evolution. You know, Darwin's finches and those moths that micro-evolved from mostly white to mostly black during the Industrial Revolution in England. I was cool with micro-evolution; the evidence was right there and quite clear. But the evidence, you see, only showed changes within species, and not changes from one species into new ones. That way, I could still believe the Bible's "each after its own kind."

Eventually, I came to think of evolution as God's way of creating the earth. Seven days didn't really mean seven days. Seven days could really mean billions of years. Or something. But, really, I didn't trust it. Outwardly, I would talk about the age of the earth, about geological time, about dinosaurs, about human activity that occurred long before 6000 years ago. But inwardly, I was confused about how Adam and Eve fit into that. Was the timing just off? If it was, was it just the timing of the Bible that was off, or the timing of carbon dating? The scientists must think things are much older than they really were.

Also, I didn't like science because it made so many mistakes. It seemed like every twenty years, a new theory came out, and they eventually threw out the old theories. Like ether, the four humors theory of health, how the continents move, breast milk is bad for babies, miasma theory of disease transmission, etc. There were so many mistakes! How great could science be if they just keep changing their minds? They could be soooo sure about something, then be sooo sure about something totally different 50 years later. I thought that was just messed up. I thought that in a 100 years, no one would be talking about evolution anymore, except to say how stupid we were back then. Ultimately, this was just a way for me to still believe in church teachings that contradicted science.

At the time of my epiphany, when I stopped believing the Bible was anything but a collection of old stories, when I stopped believing Joseph Smith had no more connection to the supernatural than I do, science suddenly clicked. All the great barriers that kept my religious sanity collapsed, and I had a great "Ah-hah!" moment.

Evolution? It makes sense.

The development of the stars, planets, solar systems over eons? They make sense. And what is more, it is absolutely, astoundingly amazing and beautiful.

And the scientific method, all those changes in theories? That's a good thing. A great thing, in fact. It means that science recognizes its own fallibility, and makes adjustments to old theories when there is new evidence. That, I now see, is what is beautiful about science. It what makes me trust science more than religion now. Religion says Adam and Eve were the first humans and lived about 6000 years ago; Mormonism says that they lived in Missouri. Religion says this despite the fact there is no evidence to support that, and there is plenty of evidence that contradicts it. Science (and Bible scholarship) says Adam and Eve are a creation myth just like any other. Granted, many liberal religious people have adjusted their thinking about the first humans to scientific evidence, but there are many who still insist that the myth is Truth. And that's scary. Especially since I used to think so, too.

a little too young for pg-13

2007-07-03T18:36:00.000-07:00

Okay, not really a Mormon-related post, but, well, you'll see...

On a last minute whim, we went to see Blades of Glory with my sister- and brother-in-law, and we took our little FTA along. I realized the movie was pg-13 before we went, and we've been quite choosy about what movies little FTA sees. But I figured since it was a comedy, the only moments that made it pg-13 would be some bawdy comments that would go over his head anyway, and he'd laugh at the physical humor.

The film went well enough for him, until we realized there was a bedroom scene coming up. In a panic, my husband and I looked at each other, trying to decide whether or not the scene would be worth me taking our son out to the lobby for a while.

I bent down to little FTA, "Hey, we gotta go out."
"Why?" he asked, his eyes glued to the screen.
"'Cause this is a bad part; you don't need to see it," I explained poorly.
I huge smile crept across his face. "I don't care." He tried, but failed, to suppress the smile.
That little stinker, I thought. He knows. He knows what's coming, and he doesn't want to miss it.
I looked at my husband and shrugged in a way that said, It's not like anything is going to happen on the screen. He whispered, "Just take him out."

I grabbed little FTA, knowing he wouldn't walk willingly, and shuffled to the end of the aisle. He immediately started protesting loudly, and physically. He legs kicked against my thighs, and I struggled to keep him propped up on my hip. BAM! His little fist hit my head. He's hitting me. SLAM! A right jab to the left temple. Everybody in the theater is watching us. FLASH! I saw a rush of light when his hand hit my in the eye. The hilarity of the situation struck me, and I start chuckling. JAB! Another fist hit my forehead. This would make a great blog post. WOMP! He pummeled me in the ear. I can't admit this on my family blog, though. It'll have to be the Ashes blog. I laughed harder at the idea that I think of life as potential blog posts.

By this time, we were in the lobby, and he was still hitting me. I let him slide down my side to the floor, and I broke out in a full laugh. With all the passion he could muster, he yelled, "It's not funny!" I laughed, "Oh, but it is, honey, it is." I bought him a treat to make up for the missed sex scene (great parenting advice: buy your kids treats as punishment for when they pummel you), and returned to the theater door to find another parent out there with his 6-year old daughter. I gave him a knowing smile, relieved that I wasn't the only parent stupid enough to bring a little kid to this movie.

I took him back in, and he almost immediately wanted to go out again. Why?

The bad guy was scary.

relationship

2007-07-02T21:34:00.001-07:00

In June, I invited my parents and my mother-in-law to a museum with me and their mutual grandson. For a while, we got separated, and I wondered around looking for them. I found them eventually, and thought nothing of it. The other day, I heard second-hand that their little disappearance had a purpose: to talk about my disaffection.

I didn't get much information out of the grapevine, but I did hear this: My parents stay really hands off, because "the relationship is the most important thing." Upon hearing that, I immediately felt a surge of love for my parents. I realized how much they pay attention to what they say, to how they interact with me. It struck me that I am being petty to be bugged that I can't drink coffee in front of them. It made me wonder if I was just being selfish to complain about sleeveless shirts and never having a glass of wine at a family dinner. I reminded myself to worry more about them and their comfort, to worry about keeping our relationship good, than to worry about myself.

(While keeping a balance so I'm not pandering, selling myself out, or hiding my true self.)

a letter from the bishop

2007-06-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

The letter from the bishop came the same day as the other letters. It was typed, and over one page single spaced. Reading almost made me want to write him back to explain things. His writing was sincere, if confused and firmly within the Mormon paradigm. I won't quote the letter here in full, but I'll summarize and editorialize.

He expressed sadness, and asked that if we were offended by him (what it is with people thinking people leave for being offended?!?) to let him know and forgive him--humans are fallible, the church is True. I disagree. Frankly, it had nothing to do with him at all. He didn't drive us away, and he couldn't have helped us stay.

He then mentioned free agency, saying God never forces us, so he's respecting our decision. Good man. He may think we're using our free agency poorly, but at least he didn't berate us about it.

I could tell he read our letter carefully (even though we didn't write it carefully), because he told us exactly in what circumstances he will break confidentiality on this matter (he'll tell the Elders quorum and Relief Society presidents to take us off their lists). My concern with confidentiality was that somehow my father would be notified (he is a stake president), but the bishop referred to our friends in the church, and hoped that we would be able to keep up those friendships. We had many acquaintances in the ward, most of whom we lost long ago, once the weekly social contacts were dropped. We did have a few real friends in the ward, most of them non-believers whom we still contact (hi!), and the rest NOMish or Cultural Hallish people (those who are "in the church but not of it").

He took time to thank us for our past contributions and service in callings. That was nice, though I regret all the tithing.

Then came the lecture about the Three Reasons People Leave the Church.

1) They are sinning.
2) They were offended and fail to forgive.
3) "They cannot reconcile the theories and philosophies of men that they embrace with the teachings of Christ as taught in the Church."

To his credit, he didn't accuse us of sinning, or try to guess which "philosophy of men" tricked us away. Instead, he wrote, "I believe that you are intellectually honest. However, not knowing your issues I won't attempt to persuade you to reconsider your actions..." He them encouraged us to write down our concerns and come back to the list in 10 or 20 years, and that by then, "the issues that bring you to request leaving the Church today will have been resolved and you will have satisfactory answers and enlightenment" enough that we may want to come back. (Or not.) When I read that, I joked, "Oh, the church will allow women the priesthood in the next couple decades!" Not that that was the only thing that pushed me to leave.

I thought, over all, the letter could have been much, much worse. I wasn't emotionally affected by the letter like I would have been in the past, when things were still raw. I wasn't mad that he wrote even though I asked him not to. I kind of appreciated it, and it almost made me want to explain some of the issues to him--to explain that these aren't issues that I will just forget about in 10 or 20 years. These aren't issues that the church will fix in the next little while, if ever.