personal

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?

a letter from the bishop

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.

it's official

As of May 22, 2007, we were no longer LDS--legally. Now, the church thinks so too. We got the letters in the mail yesterday.

June 12, 2007

Dear Sister FTA:

This letter is to notify you that, in accordance with your request, you are no longer a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Woohoo!

Should you desire to become a member of the Church in the future, the local bishop or branch president in your area will be happy to help you.

As if.

My husband got a matching letter in the same envelope. There was nothing for or about our son, though, which concerns us. Is he off the records too? Is the primary presidency still going to try to get him to church? He was the biggest reason we officially resigned, so to not have anything about him is worrying.

We got the letter sooner than we expected. The stake president, bishop, and Salt Lake received letters May 24 (delivery confirmation is a beautiful thing), so June 12 is pretty fast from what I hear. We just used the standard form letter from MormonNoMore. The one change I made was in the stake president's letter, in which I stated "waive the church's standard 30-day waiting period." This seemed to do the trick better than the "with no waiting periods" in the form letter. I know this made a difference, because the bishop also wrote us a letter in which he mentioned a call from the president regarding the waiting period waiver. I'll save the bishop-letter commentary for another post.

"come back"

This came in the mail just before I left town.

Dear Brother & Sister FTA:

I have been asked to acknowledge your recent letter in which you request that your family's names be removed from the membership records of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I have also been asked to inform you that the Church considers such a request to be an ecclesiastical matter that must be handled by local priesthood leaders before being processed by Church employees. Therefore, your letter and a copy of this reply are being sent to President Name F. Removed of the County State Stake. He will have Bishop Name F. Removed of the Local Area nth Ward contact you concerning the fulfillment of your request.

In view of the eternal consequences of such an action, the Brethren urge you to reconsider your request and to prayerfully consider the enclosed statement of the First Presidency.

The enclosed pamphlet has a picture of the Christ statue from the Salt Lake Temple Square Visitors Center, and is entitled "An Invitation." Inside, Hinckley, Monson, and Faust stare out at me with staged smiles.

An Invitation to Come Back

We reach out to members of the Church throughout the world in a spirit of love and brotherhood inspired by the Lord Jesus Christ.

Our interest and concern are always with the individual man or woman, boy or girl. Our great responsibility is to see that each is "remembered and nourished by the good word of God" (Moroni 6:4). If any have been offended, we are sorry. Our only desire is to cultivate a spirit of mercy and kindness, of understanding and healing. We seek to follow the example of our Lord, who "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38).

To you who for any reason find yourselves outside the embrace of the Church, we say come back. We invite you to return and partake of the happiness you once knew. You will find many with outstretched arms to welcome you, assist you, and give you comfort.

The Church needs your strength, love, loyalty, and devotion. The course is fixed and certain by which a person may return to the full blessings of Church membership, and we stand ready to receive all who wish to do so.

Sincerely yours,
[signed]
Hinckley, Monson, and Faust
The First Presidency

I knew that even though I asked for no contact from the church other than a letter of confirmation of name removal, I would get the letter and pamphlet above. So I wasn't surprised or bothered much. I took it as confirmation that Dodge got our letter and started the process. We also cc'ed the stake president and the bishop, so hopefully things are moving along. If either of them have tried to call us to discuss "the eternal consequences" of our resignation, I wouldn't know, as we moved and discontinued our phone number.

I laughed at the "eternal consequences" line, and was annoyed at the "if any have been offended, we are sorry." I told this to my fellow non-believing friend, and she said, "I find that so ridiculous that they could possibly think I could be so petty as to go through all that hell of leaving just because someone said some comment that offended me!" No doubt.

Oh, and "the happiness I once knew"? It was a fantasy. I prefer the happiness I currently have, thanks.

"I baptize you for and on behalf of fta, who is dead"

Should I never tell my family about my resignation? What will they think? That I'm a prideful, evil apostate who is so completely deceived by the devil that I would voluntarily turn my back on the church. If I don't talk to them about it, they'll have no idea what courage I had to muster to leave. They'll have no idea I followed my conscience and stayed true to my integrity. They'll have no idea that this route is initially much harder than staying; that staying without questioning would have been the easy way out.

It reminds me of my great grandma, who was basically inactive, drank coffee and alcohol. Never went through the temple, was not sealed to her husband. We never talked to her about it. We just visited her and loved her. It was a non-issue. But as soon as she died, talk began up about how we're going to baptize her (also deceased) husband and get them their endowments and their sealing. And their work was done. Everyone felt that Grandma wanted it done, but she just never got around to doing it. Just couldn't get past her laziness or whatever to get out there and go to the temple.

It never occurred to anyone that maybe Grandma and Grandpa never got baptized and endowed on purpose! What if she really hated the church, or at least didn't like it? And here we go, first thing as soon as she's dead, and (probably) go against her wishes and get her temple work done. What kind of family are we? We couldn't even ask her when she was alive, why don't you get your husband baptized? Why don't you get yourself over to the temple? But, boy, when she's dead, we know exactly what's best, didn't we? We fix her salvation for her.

It's an ultimate disrespect for the dead. I never understood while I was a devout Mormon why people got so mad when Mormons baptized Holocaust survivors or other prominent people. Finally, I understand. Now I am enraged over it.

Since I've resigned, will my relatives, one year after I die, think, "Hey, I'm sure fta really wanted to get re-baptized. I'm sure there was just some little problem she couldn't get over. Couldn't give up her drinks or her lazy Sunday mornings. Just didn't want to pay tithing. Just too intellectual. Let's go fix that.” And then go and redo all those ordinances?

Am I comfortable with that happening? No. Of course, if I'm dead, I won't know it. But if there is an afterlife, boy, will I come back and haunt the idiot that thought they knew me better than I knew myself! Right now, my only vision of the afterlife is what we leave behind on the earth--how people remember us, what impact we had on the world. In this sense of the afterlife, getting someone their ordinances, having no idea (or worse, having an idea) of what they felt about the church is disrespect for the dead and downright despicable.

lightning & therapy session 3

Yesterday, still reveling in my new symbolic freedom, I noted happily that the devil hadn't suddenly taken a hold of me. God didn't strike me with lightning for disaffiliating with His One True Church, either. Not that I expected anything like that to happen, but it was a little fleeting thought from my old paradigm come back to make me giggle.

....

I saw the therapist again. I picked a new topic to discuss, something that has been bothering me for a while now. I won't get into it publicly, since this blog isn't the forum for such things. But I will say this: it had nothing to do with Mormonism. That struck me. I go to the therapist to help me adjust to my new life outside Mormonism, and it turns out that's not even what I need the most help with. Not yesterday, anyway. There were other, more pressing needs and adjustments.

You know what that says to me?

I'm moving on. I had a post-Mormon day.

(And yet, somehow, I still manage to post about in my ex-Mormon themed blog.)

resignation

I've thought about resignation from the church for two years now. I had planned on writing a post about "to resign or not to resign" but never got around to it. And here I am, resigned. So I guess I decided, didn't I? Why did it take so long?

At first, in those few months after leaving, I was just too scared. It was too big of a step, and I was unsure of myself. The way I was raised still had a very strong hold over me. Resignation was bad, bad, bad, stupid, stupid, stupid. Eventually, those feelings wore off, but by then, I didn't think about resignation much. Life and recovery just happened. It was inertia, I guess, that kept me from bothering. Kind of lame, huh?

When I did think about it, I debated between three choices: resignation, excommunication, and mere inactivity.

With resignation, I'd take matters in my own hands, decide the day I ended my relationship with the LDS institution. Resignation is often referred to as "having your name removed," which I think is disturbingly passive. It gives the action and power to the church. With resignation, even if the difference is in terminology only, I am the actor. The church insists on name removal, but legal precedence says the moment you hand in (or mail in) your letter, you are no longer a member. Whatever they do afterward--name removal, disciplinary action--is their business and has no bearing on you. In fact, if they initiate disciplinary action after your resignation, they are on legally shaky ground (according to precedence).

Excommunication would, I imagine, hurt my family's feelings more than my resignation. I figure that they would construe resignation as my mistake, my sin, while excommunication couldn't be a mistake because the church is perfect, isn't it? But I figure there are good reasons to "allow" the church to excommunicate you rather than just turn in a resignation letter, such as in the cases of the September Six. They wrote legitimate , good scholarship and the church asked them to stop. They said no. So they were ex'ed for telling the truth and refusing to retract those truths. That is a worthy cause, although undoubtedly painful for them. I played with the idea of not resigning just in case I eventually decided to write about Mormonism, and see if the church bothered me about it. Become yet another martyr in the intellectual freedom battle. I guess I decided it wasn't worth the hassle. I may yet publish about Mormonism, but they can't ex me now.

Inactivity would, I suppose, make my family the most comfortable. They could go on imaging that I'll come back any week now, that I'm not a hard apostate, I'm not so deceived and confused that I would do something so stupid as "ask for my name to be removed." This would be the easiest route, the route many take to appease spouses or extended family. Inactivity, though, would open myself--and my children--to harassment from the church. The church wouldn't think of it as harassment, of course, but an organization calling you every year, sending you letters, enticing your children to their activities with treats and games in hopes of indoctrinating them, even though you've asked them to leave you alone? That's harassment. I don't want the primary to bother my family. I don't want the deacon's quorum to make a project out of my son. I don't want insincere "thinking of you" cards from the relief society. I don't want to be talked about in bishop's council, to have men creating strategies on how to get us to show up at church so they can boost their attendance numbers.

I eventually decided it was a matter of integrity and conscience to resign. If I came across a non-profit institution that formally discriminated against women and homosexuals, that hid its financial dealings but was obviously rich, not to mention all the other wacko things the church does, I would most certainly NEVER consider joining or even giving money to it. To me, the church is an organization whose policies, actions, and doctrines I profoundly disagree with. How could I remain on its rolls, especially since my name was put there when I was just a little kid, far too young to decide for myself?

Don't count me in your 12 million, Hinckley. I am not LDS.

the day

This is a significant day for the FTA family. We finally wrote, signed, notarized, and sent our resignation letter to Salt Lake (cc'ed to the local bishop), priority mail with delivery confirmation. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as we were signing those letters, and the notary public put all the official stamps and imprints on it.


I've been meaning to write a post about resignation, the debate about whether or not to bother, and why I hadn't done it yet--these two years as a non-believing, non-attender--but I'll save that for another post. I just want to bask in the satisfaction of having sealed the letter in the envelope and sent it to good ol' Mr. Dodge in Member Services.

If you want information or advice about resignation from the LDS church, see Mormon No More, and great resource put together by Kathy Worthington, may she rest in peace. I regret that I didn't do this earlier so I could thank her personally.