been reading

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

seeing grandpa again

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.

"what do you believe now?"

I've been asked more than once by faithful Mormons (usually ones who are somewhat religiously liberal), "If you don't believe in the Church, what do you believe? How are you spiritually sustained now? Where does your direction come from?"

Here is the first part of one of my written responses.

About what else I do believe, I've been searching, and I was really torn up about writing back to you, because I wasn't sure what to say. But then I started writing, and realized I believe a lot. Some of it may shock you, and I'm sure you won't agree with most, but here goes:

I think that God and gods are created by men, in the image of humans, not the other way around. And that's okay. But because people believe so strongly in their versions of God, and because they operate their lives and make their decisions according to those versions of God, and because they let those Gods govern and direct their lives, from daily ritual to values and morals to who it's okay to kill, God is real. Do I think there really is a supreme being, an entity that created and directs us? Probably not. And I'm okay with that.

But I also believe that God can't be proven or dis-proven (e.g., I'm agnostic), and that therefore belief in God is actually a matter of faith, not knowledge. I could choose to have faith in the existence of God, or not. The "evidence" could be interpreted either way. (With Mormonism, I think there is enough evidence to say it’s not what it claims to be, so it’d be impossible for me to choose to have faith it in.) Right now, I choose not to place that faith in God. Right now, I don't think there is an actual God, that having faith in one is having faith in an idea that is real only because we act like it is. Like nations, or nationalism, or paper money, or anything else abstract. But I recognize that, in this way, God still does influence the world.

But I think that faith in God is a perfectly legitimate path. So is choosing to not place faith in God. Each way will influence how people think and live their lives. Both can produce despair, confusion, fatalism and nihilism, and both can produce productive, happy, and kind people.

facts and faith

From a personal essay I wrote about a year ago. It follows from thoughts I penned in "did you give it a fair chance?":

In some ways, Mormonism is good at helping its members feel peace. For example, the sacrament. For me, it was about reflecting on your week, your life, and finding comfort in the idea that forgiveness could be achieved. That even though you were imperfect, you could do better. Mormons don't worry about the "facts" of the bread and water being Jesus' flesh and blood, but about the comfort of forgiveness and redemption. Whether or not Jesus actually died and was resurrected is of course at the core of Mormonism, but I don't think it needs to be so. For a whole lot of Christians in the world, the point is the ideas of redemption, sacrifice, a personal God, and forgiveness, and not whether it all actually happened. I could even find a place in a Christian church as long as the emphasis is on the ideas, and whether or not Jesus was resurrected is left to faith.

Because we don't have the facts; it must be left to faith. And I think that's fine. I am willing to make a leap of faith for God; I don't think the existence of God can be proven either way, for or against. If I believe in God, it is based on faith, not knowledge. As for Mormonism, there are plenty of facts against the authenticity of the Book of Mormon, the prophethood (and decency) of Joseph Smith, the origin of the Book of Abraham, the restoration of the priesthood, etc. To make a leap of faith against those facts is ridiculous in my mind.

So why don't I take the church in the same way I see general Christianity or religion? (i.e., The ideas might be good enough to overrule any uncertainly about the facts.) Why not forget about the truthfulness of the church, and just find what is good about it ("it" now includes the culture, institution, theology, and gospel): emphasis on family, moral anchor, forgiveness, service, community, family heritage, etc.? As far as family goes, that would certainly be the easier route. For one, all that is good about the church can be found elsewhere--in another congregation or even in a secular, non-religious life. And two, besides what I find to be false about the church, there is so much I find to be negative about the church's ideas, attitudes, and way of doing things. Attitudes about race, women, intellectuals, homosexuals and homosexuality, (one example: 1993 speech by Boyd K. Packer said the Church's three main enemies to be intellectuals, feminists, and homosexuals); over-emphasis on one-size-fits-all and obedience; over-emphasis on truth and de-emphasis on other great aspects of religion; attitude of denial or willful ignorance of uncomfortable church history; the church's infiltration into too many aspects of member's lives; hypocrisy in teachings and actions; the lack of focus on Christ-like living, among other things.