The second Sunday after my deconversion was stake conference. Said deconversion took place late on a Monday night, and I had had a whole week to think about things. I was quite certain--let's say 97%--that the church was not true. (For reference, I'd now put that somewhere around 99.99%, give or take.) I had spent a lot of time online researching and reading exit stories. I had realized the implications of my lost testimony on the night of my deconversion. I didn't know whether to believe in God. My belief up to that point had been informed entirely by Mormonism, and I had no experience with God outside of that context.
I wanted to believe in God. Oh, how desperately I wanted to believe in God. That first night I cried and prayed myself to sleep. I didn't know what to do. I had a strong suspicion that there wasn't a God, but I didn't want to confront it. It was a giant pink elephant in the living room of my mind, and I really didn't want to deal with it. I wanted to just believe.
Those first few weeks after my deconversion were the most surreal experience of my life. It was as if I was a prisoner recently released from a life in prison. I didn't know what to think or how to handle this new perspective. It frightened and baffled me. Everything was new, and once I got past the initial fear I was like a kid in an intellectual candy shop. I was allowed to think about things that I hadn't been able to before. But at first, it was too scary. And one of the scariest things to think about was whether or not God existed.
The reason this was so frightening to contemplate was because God and Mormonism together had comprised the totality of my life's meaning. I didn't know how to think about life, the world, or even myself outside of that context. The world seemed so dark, empty, and meaningless without it. I had time to think about this on that Sunday afternoon, after stake conference had ended. One of my roommates was out of town and the other two were asleep. It was sunny outside and there was no snow on the ground yet, so I wrapped myself in a blanket and leaned on the railing outside my apartment, just like I had the night I lost my testimony.
I mulled over the idea of atheism in my mind as I watched the wind blow through the grass and the trees of my dorm's courtyard. I couldn't comprehend it. How could this beautiful, fascinating, complex world exist without some kind of divine being? How could my life have any meaning at all? I wanted to believe. I felt emotionally compelled to believe. But intellectually, I couldn't justify it. I was faced with Søren Kierkegaard's choice of whether to make a leap of faith, and I couldn't do it. I was caught between faith and doubt, and doubt was winning, even though I didn't want it to.
I came to no firm conclusions that day on the railing outside my apartment. I would work through this dilemma over the course of the following months. But that day, I couldn't even put a name to what I believed. I didn't believe--or disbelieve--anything. I didn't know what to believe, and it was uncomfortable. The reason this dilemma was so difficult was because I needed meaning in my life, and I didn't see how I could have it without God.
Human beings seem to have a compelling need for meaning. What they mean when they say "meaning" is very subjective, but the persistence of the question surely indicates that we need some kind of answer to it. Philosophically speaking, there are four basic answers to the question. All but one was incomprehensible to me as a newly minted apostate, because all four have fundamentally different conceptions of what the question is. Well-meaning people on Internet forums told me that I had to create my own meaning. They might as well have been speaking Klingon for all the sense that made to me. Meaning, to me, wasn't something you could just create out of your own fancies and preferences. It was supposed to be objective, immutable. I subscribed to the religious version of meaning. For something to have meaning, in my view, it had to fit into a bigger picture somehow. This view of meaning is very well articulated in a poem popular with Christians, the author of which I (regrettably) do not know:
My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors,
He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow,
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the under side.
Not 'til the loom is silent
and the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
in the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
in the pattern He has planned.
He knows, He loves, He cares,
nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
who leave the choice with Him.
Meaning, for me, required my life to fit into "the big picture" in a predetermined way, just like the individual threads in a tapestry go together to make a picture. The proposition that one must create one's own meaning will make no sense to someone who thinks this way--after all, a bunch of threads all doing whatever they please is not going to make any kind of discernible picture on a tapestry.
I hinted at the second view of meaning earlier--this view questions the utility of "meaning of life" as a concept. It holds that the idea that life must have a "meaning" is, in itself, meaningless. In the first place, the question, "what is the meaning of life?" presumes a priori that life does, in fact, have a meaning. But does it? And in the second place, what does that mean? If you reject the existence of God and of any other overarching teleology, you can't have meaning in the tapestry sense. You have to come up with something else. This view holds that there is no such thing.
The third view, which is often confused with atheism itself, is nihilism. Nihilism holds that while the concept of "meaning" is coherent, no such meaning can or does exist. Many atheists do take this position, but not all do. When I subscribed to the tapestry view, I saw nihilism as the only alternate option. And justifiably so--if you reject the truth of the tapestry view, but still retain that definition of meaning, then you are faced with no meaning.
The fourth view is the humanist view. This is the "create your own meaning" view. And it requires a shift in one's understanding of the meaning of meaning (so to speak). Instead of a tapestry, the humanist view sees meaning as a sort of mosaic--there's no overarching picture, but it's still beautiful even in its chaos. And, as you would expect, definitions of meaning vary widely within humanism. This view is, in one sense, much more limited than the tapestry view because it is not objective or overarching, nor does it have any kind of ultimate end. It's temporary and subjective. But on the other, this same fact creates a great deal of freedom and flexibility as well. And it does require much more of the individual. It requires one to "know thyself," as the ancient Delphic oracle admonished. It requires one to work through the mire of epistemology and ethics, and it doesn't have easy answers.
I did not understand this distinction that first Sunday. I could only conceive of meaning in a limited way. I wanted to fit into something beyond my own control or will. In a way, I wanted to be enslaved to a "higher power"--it did not matter what God's plan was, so long as I fit into it somewhere. But I had already realized that I really had no interest in fitting into the Mormon conception of meaning. I have chosen the humanist view. Admittedly, this makes me something of a relativist. It entails a certain amount of epistemological ambiguity. I'm okay with that. But the important thing to understand--what I did not understand as I began my search for meaning without religion--is that before you can find the meaning of life, you have to know what that question means to you.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
The Family
Family is very important in the Mormon church. From a doctrinal standpoint, this makes a lot of sense. The essence of LDS theology is the belief that God is our Eternal Father, and that the purpose of this life is to prove ourselves worthy to become like him. Celestial marriage (what that means depends on which prophet you ask) is considered indispensable for salvation because the function of immortality--that is, being like God--is to create more worlds and populate them with one's spiritual offspring. (Naturally this necessitates polygamy in the Celestial Kingdom, but that is another issue entirely.) Since the purpose of this life is for all of Elohim's children to gain bodies and be tested for worthiness, the church teaches that everyone has the responsibility to assist in this plan by bringing as many spirits as possible into the world. That is the ostensible reason why Mormon families tend to be rather large, and why Mormons are encouraged to marry early and to have children as soon as possible after marriage. Many Mormons also believe that their families were constituted in the preexistence and that there are certain spirits who were meant to be in their families. It's common for members, especially women, to share stories of thinking at one point that they were done having children, but later realizing that there was still one or more spirits waiting to be a part of their family.
Because the family is so central to the LDS view of the very meaning of existence, the church places a great deal of emphasis on it. In 1995, the church issued a Proclamation on the Family that outlines the church's beliefs about the family and its role in this life and the next. Among other things, the Proclamation emphasizes traditional gender roles and sexual mores, as well as insisting that "God's commandment for his children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force."
In recent years, the church has been trying to enhance its image as a "family" church. It has always been adamantly opposed to homosexuality and gay marriage, and it has received a lot of press for this since its involvement in Prop 8. Nary a conference goes by without a veiled reference to "the family" being under attack. The current threat is the gay rights movement, but historically the church has also identified feminism and interracial marriage as threats to the family.
All this leads one to ask what exactly the LDS church means when they talk about "the family" When they state from the pulpit that "the family" is "under attack," what do they mean? Personally, I find it rather absurd when the church says that marriage and family are under attack when in fact they are actively trying to deny marriage and family to LGBT people. It is obvious that not all families are created equal in the church's eyes--gay parents, single parents, and working mothers are all considered threats to their ideal.
"Family" is a loaded word, and not just in the LDS church. Politics is peppered with references to "family values" and such. That's not surprising--humans are social creatures by nature, and one's family is one's first social network and plays a vital role in human development. We tend to have strong emotions about our families as a result. This makes "family," with all its emotional baggage, an ideal word for manipulation. A common technique that coercive organizations use is thought-stopping. One thought-stopping technique is to use loaded language that elicits knee-jerk responses rather than promoting rational discourse. "Family" in Mormon-speak is one of these words. It means more to a Mormon than the dictionary definitions that can include a family with a married heterosexual couple and their children as well as a childless married couple or a family with gay parents. Family for Mormons is not just a group of people who are joined together by love and commitment; it is also a set of ideas. I outline some of these below.
- Mormons believe that the family was intended to be an eternal unit, and in order for this to happen one has to have certain ordinances performed in LDS temples. Only members can have these ordinances performed, and this means that the whole family must be Mormon. It means that if you are a member and single, you should only marry a member (and the church uses scare tactics and manipulation to convince people to do this). It means that if you are a convert, then you should convert your family as well. And it means that your most important priority in raising your children will be to keep them in the church.
- Because Mormons see the family as the instrument that executes God's plan, they believe that they have an obligation to marry early and to have many children starting as early as possible. I discussed this and the damage it causes in my previous blog post.
- Biologically speaking, only a male and a female can have children, and the LDS church makes much of this fact. Because having children is so central to their conception of existence--God's spirit children must be given bodies--the church defines family by these biological limitations. This is further fueled by the fact that the church subscribes to a very rigid view of gender and gender roles, insisting that children need both male and female parents.
- Because women who work are likely to have children later and to have fewer of them, the LDS church emphasizes a traditional family model with a working father and a stay-at-home mother. As many of my previous posts have indicated, I have serious beef with the role that this creates for women. There is more to a woman than her reproductive capacity, and her choices in life should not be circumscribed by that.
In sum, "the family" as defined by the church is in fact shorthand for a Mormon, heterosexual, patriarchal, traditional family unit. Such a narrow definition, with its emphasis on superficial and non-universal criteria, causes more important considerations to take a backseat. The church does not like a definition of marriage or family based on mutual love and commitment because such a definition is not exclusive to heterosexuals. Such a clinical focus on the family as an offspring-producing unit is ultimately harmful to the family as an instrument of human association and affection. Gay couples cannot marry, foster children are denied stable homes, young adults are pressured into early and unwise marriages, and young married couples are pressured to have children when whey may not be able to afford them and may not even want them. It is ironic that a loaded word that relies on legitimate emotions about family and its meaning actually undermines those very emotions in order to reduce the family to a coercive tool. I find this to be deeply disturbing. I love my own family very much, and the fact that the church essentially reduces it to a political tool is very bothersome to me--and I am a child of heterosexual parents in a church-sanctioned marriage. How much more does that undermining of what "family" really means apply to people whose families do not fit the church's political ideal, but are families nonetheless?
Monday, August 22, 2011
Dick and Jane: or, The Marriage Trap
Meet Dick. Dick is a 21-year-old recently returned missionary. He was born and raised in the LDS church. He has been a valiant member of the church his whole life. He did well in school, advanced through the levels of the priesthood, graduated seminary with a nearly 100% attendance record, and served an honorable mission in Uganda. Dick does feel guilty because he can't seem to shake his masturbation habit and because he occasionally looks at pornography. Not very often--maybe once a month or so--so he rationalizes to himself that it's not a serious problem. But deep down he feels very guilty. He feels like he is betraying his priesthood and temple covenants.
On the whole, though, Dick is an ideal, squeaky-clean Mormon boy. He is returning for a second semester at BYU after he dutifully took two years away from his education for his mission. Although he only baptized four people while on his mission, he came away with a deep testimony of the gospel. He reads his well-worn scriptures daily and prays fervently. He is majoring in business at BYU (even though he'd much rather study physics) so that he will be able to provide for his future family. He serves in his student ward as a Sunday School teacher.
Dick's top priority right now, as per his former mission president's instructions, is to find a worthy young woman to be his eternal companion. He's been told by his bishop that it's his responsibility to date as much as he can. And so he does, looking for the girl who's meant to be his wife.
Meet Jane. Jane is a lovely girl. She worked her way through the Young Women program until she earned her medallion, graduated seminary with honors, and has a burning testimony of the gospel. Like Dick, she prays and reads her scriptures every day. She keeps her mind and body pure and innocent. She strongly believes that her greatest mission in life is to be a wife and mother--she can't wait to be a mommy. She's studying at BYU, but she hasn't declared a major yet. For one thing, she's hoping to be married soon, so she assumes that she doesn't need much in the way of higher education. And for another, she doesn't know what she would like to study, having focused all of her goals and dreams on her ideal of a fairytale wedding shortly followed by motherhood. She's taking light credit loads consisting of general studies supplemented by ballroom dancing and sewing classes. But although she does not devote much energy to her education, Jane is quite intelligent. She has an aptitude for math and a fascination with art (although she fastidiously avoids any paintings or statues of naked people). But because being a mother someday is so important to her, she devotes most of her time and energy to developing skills that will help her make a happy home. She loves the social life at BYU with all the handsome returned missionaries who seem so much nicer than the non-Mormon boys she knew in high school outside of Utah. She's had a series of boyfriends, but has lately begun to doubt herself because none of her relationships led to marriage. As a result, she immediately latches on to any man who expresses interest in her, convinced that this, at last, is "the one."
Dick and Jane meet when they are assigned to the same FHE group one semester. They start dating a few weeks into the semester. As with all her previous relationships, Jane hopes that this one will lead to a date at the temple. She enjoys planning not-so-hypothetical weddings with her roommates and browsing rings and dresses online. Dick, while still feeling unworthy because of his masturbation problem, is delighted to have found a special daughter of God, and he redoubles his efforts to keep himself pure for her. He slips up sometimes, but he is trying.
By Thanksgiving Dick and Jane are getting serious about each other. Jane has high hopes that Dick will propose any day. Dick is having a difficult time restraining himself sexually. They have very strong feelings for each other and are convinced that they are in love. Everyone around them is happy for them, and roommates are beginning to ask when the engagement will be. Reading a recent General Conference talk encouraging young adults, especially young men, not to hold off on marriage serves as the final push for Dick to propose to Jane just before the Christmas break.
After the engagement, Dick and Jane are showered with congratulations and well-wishes. They become stereotypical lovebirds--cooing at each other, playing with each others' hair, and generally being oblivious to everyone else around them (and rather annoying both sets of roommates). Their conversations consist primarily of flirting and wedding plans. After a long six months and several close calls with the Law of Chastity, the two are married in the Salt Lake Temple.
The first few months are divine. Dick and Jane are passionately in love with each other. Jane quits school and takes a job to help pay for Dick's tuition. She stops working, however, when after less than a year of marriage she finds that she is pregnant. Both she and Dick are overjoyed, but Jane especially is ecstatic because she is now beginning to fulfill her divine role as a woman.
More children follow, and soon it becomes apparent to both that married life is not the fairytale that they always thought it was. Jane's time is taken up with her growing number of children and they rarely have time alone together. When they are able to spend time together, they find that they have little to talk about. Dick has returned to his pornography habit to fill the emotional and sexual void created when the magic of his relationship with Jane faded. Jane wonders why her husband does not love her anymore--if he did love her, then obviously he wouldn't be seeking solace in the nasty videos that he watches when he thinks she's asleep. Jane invests herself more and more in her children, Dick more and more in his work. Dick is unhappy at a job that he finds boring and unstimulating, although it does provide well for his large family. Although she will never admit it to herself, Jane is unhappy with her life as well. Shortly after her youngest child begins school, she becomes seriously depressed and her doctor prescribes Prozac. To a casual observer, Dick and Jane have a wonderful life and a happy family. But both partners wonder if they're doing something wrong in their marriage that is keeping them from the happiness that they were promised.
Dick and Jane's story, while obviously fictional in this case, is one that repeats itself many times over in the Mormon church. Men and especially women are taught that having a family is the most important thing they will ever do in life--that it is a divine calling. It is common for returning missionaries to be told by their mission presidents that their next responsibility is to find a wife as soon as possible. Women are regularly taught in church that marriage and children are the most important priorities in their lives. Both are encouraged to interpret their feelings as "promptings of the Spirit," and they consequently mistake early infatuation with a relationship for the Spirit telling them that they have found the one that they are meant to be with for eternity. The increasing sexual tension in the relationship compounded with the expected abstinence prior to marriage places additional pressure on the couple to marry as soon as possible so that they can keep themselves "pure." As a result, it is extraordinarily common for Mormons to marry quite young and after dating only for a short period of time. After marrying and having children right away, many of these couples find that they have little in common besides the church. They may become depressed or feel like they are not righteous enough. Obviously this isn't the case all the time; sometimes couples get lucky, and some have enough presence of mind to avoid rushing into a marriage and children with someone they've only known for a few months. But it happens more than it should, and it is a direct result of the church's harmful teachings.
I've heard it argued that the church does not actually pressure its members into early marriage and children. But consider, for example, the oft-quoted Family Proclamation's statement that "God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force." This little quote is often cited in church lessons and BYU devotionals to urge the faithful to reproduce early and often. LDS prophets and other church leaders have made clear there insistence on this matter. In a 1987 General Conference address entitled "To the Fathers in Israel," Ezra Taft Benson quoted Spencer W. Kimball as he urged young couples not to wait to have children:
On the whole, though, Dick is an ideal, squeaky-clean Mormon boy. He is returning for a second semester at BYU after he dutifully took two years away from his education for his mission. Although he only baptized four people while on his mission, he came away with a deep testimony of the gospel. He reads his well-worn scriptures daily and prays fervently. He is majoring in business at BYU (even though he'd much rather study physics) so that he will be able to provide for his future family. He serves in his student ward as a Sunday School teacher.
Dick's top priority right now, as per his former mission president's instructions, is to find a worthy young woman to be his eternal companion. He's been told by his bishop that it's his responsibility to date as much as he can. And so he does, looking for the girl who's meant to be his wife.
Meet Jane. Jane is a lovely girl. She worked her way through the Young Women program until she earned her medallion, graduated seminary with honors, and has a burning testimony of the gospel. Like Dick, she prays and reads her scriptures every day. She keeps her mind and body pure and innocent. She strongly believes that her greatest mission in life is to be a wife and mother--she can't wait to be a mommy. She's studying at BYU, but she hasn't declared a major yet. For one thing, she's hoping to be married soon, so she assumes that she doesn't need much in the way of higher education. And for another, she doesn't know what she would like to study, having focused all of her goals and dreams on her ideal of a fairytale wedding shortly followed by motherhood. She's taking light credit loads consisting of general studies supplemented by ballroom dancing and sewing classes. But although she does not devote much energy to her education, Jane is quite intelligent. She has an aptitude for math and a fascination with art (although she fastidiously avoids any paintings or statues of naked people). But because being a mother someday is so important to her, she devotes most of her time and energy to developing skills that will help her make a happy home. She loves the social life at BYU with all the handsome returned missionaries who seem so much nicer than the non-Mormon boys she knew in high school outside of Utah. She's had a series of boyfriends, but has lately begun to doubt herself because none of her relationships led to marriage. As a result, she immediately latches on to any man who expresses interest in her, convinced that this, at last, is "the one."
Dick and Jane meet when they are assigned to the same FHE group one semester. They start dating a few weeks into the semester. As with all her previous relationships, Jane hopes that this one will lead to a date at the temple. She enjoys planning not-so-hypothetical weddings with her roommates and browsing rings and dresses online. Dick, while still feeling unworthy because of his masturbation problem, is delighted to have found a special daughter of God, and he redoubles his efforts to keep himself pure for her. He slips up sometimes, but he is trying.
By Thanksgiving Dick and Jane are getting serious about each other. Jane has high hopes that Dick will propose any day. Dick is having a difficult time restraining himself sexually. They have very strong feelings for each other and are convinced that they are in love. Everyone around them is happy for them, and roommates are beginning to ask when the engagement will be. Reading a recent General Conference talk encouraging young adults, especially young men, not to hold off on marriage serves as the final push for Dick to propose to Jane just before the Christmas break.
After the engagement, Dick and Jane are showered with congratulations and well-wishes. They become stereotypical lovebirds--cooing at each other, playing with each others' hair, and generally being oblivious to everyone else around them (and rather annoying both sets of roommates). Their conversations consist primarily of flirting and wedding plans. After a long six months and several close calls with the Law of Chastity, the two are married in the Salt Lake Temple.
The first few months are divine. Dick and Jane are passionately in love with each other. Jane quits school and takes a job to help pay for Dick's tuition. She stops working, however, when after less than a year of marriage she finds that she is pregnant. Both she and Dick are overjoyed, but Jane especially is ecstatic because she is now beginning to fulfill her divine role as a woman.
More children follow, and soon it becomes apparent to both that married life is not the fairytale that they always thought it was. Jane's time is taken up with her growing number of children and they rarely have time alone together. When they are able to spend time together, they find that they have little to talk about. Dick has returned to his pornography habit to fill the emotional and sexual void created when the magic of his relationship with Jane faded. Jane wonders why her husband does not love her anymore--if he did love her, then obviously he wouldn't be seeking solace in the nasty videos that he watches when he thinks she's asleep. Jane invests herself more and more in her children, Dick more and more in his work. Dick is unhappy at a job that he finds boring and unstimulating, although it does provide well for his large family. Although she will never admit it to herself, Jane is unhappy with her life as well. Shortly after her youngest child begins school, she becomes seriously depressed and her doctor prescribes Prozac. To a casual observer, Dick and Jane have a wonderful life and a happy family. But both partners wonder if they're doing something wrong in their marriage that is keeping them from the happiness that they were promised.
Dick and Jane's story, while obviously fictional in this case, is one that repeats itself many times over in the Mormon church. Men and especially women are taught that having a family is the most important thing they will ever do in life--that it is a divine calling. It is common for returning missionaries to be told by their mission presidents that their next responsibility is to find a wife as soon as possible. Women are regularly taught in church that marriage and children are the most important priorities in their lives. Both are encouraged to interpret their feelings as "promptings of the Spirit," and they consequently mistake early infatuation with a relationship for the Spirit telling them that they have found the one that they are meant to be with for eternity. The increasing sexual tension in the relationship compounded with the expected abstinence prior to marriage places additional pressure on the couple to marry as soon as possible so that they can keep themselves "pure." As a result, it is extraordinarily common for Mormons to marry quite young and after dating only for a short period of time. After marrying and having children right away, many of these couples find that they have little in common besides the church. They may become depressed or feel like they are not righteous enough. Obviously this isn't the case all the time; sometimes couples get lucky, and some have enough presence of mind to avoid rushing into a marriage and children with someone they've only known for a few months. But it happens more than it should, and it is a direct result of the church's harmful teachings.
I've heard it argued that the church does not actually pressure its members into early marriage and children. But consider, for example, the oft-quoted Family Proclamation's statement that "God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force." This little quote is often cited in church lessons and BYU devotionals to urge the faithful to reproduce early and often. LDS prophets and other church leaders have made clear there insistence on this matter. In a 1987 General Conference address entitled "To the Fathers in Israel," Ezra Taft Benson quoted Spencer W. Kimball as he urged young couples not to wait to have children:
"I have told tens of thousands of young folks that when they marry they should not wait for children until they have finished their schooling and financial desires. … They should live together normally and let the children come."In the April 2011 General Conference, both Thomas S. Monson and Richard G. Scott urged young adults to marry. In "The Eternal Blessings of Marriage", Scott said, "If you are a young man of appropriate age and are not married, don’t waste time in idle pursuits. Get on with life and focus on getting married." In his address entitled "Priesthood Power," Monson, the man who speaks for God, scolded young men who postponed marriage:
"Now, I have thought a lot lately about you young men who are of an age to marry but who have not yet felt to do so. I see lovely young ladies who desire to be married and to raise families, and yet their opportunities are limited because so many young men are postponing marriage.
This is not a new situation. Much has been said concerning this matter by past Presidents of the Church. I share with you just one or two examples of their counsel.
Said President Harold B. Lee, 'We are not doing our duty as holders of the priesthood when we go beyond the marriageable age and withhold ourselves from an honorable marriage to these lovely women.'"Monson then went on to urge unmarried men not to worry about financial considerations such as how to take care of a wife (as if women are incapable of taking care of themselves!) and to suggest that young men are simply "having a little too much fun being single." It is clear that the church puts an extraordinary amount of pressure on young adults to marry and produce offspring, and young members like Dick and Jane are the victims. People rush into marriage and children under the direction of church authorities and then wonder why they are not happy.
Monday, August 15, 2011
All the answers
I have a lot of childhood memories of my mom teaching me. Even though I've rejected the religion she raised me in, I will always be grateful to her for her teaching. She taught me to love learning, to ask questions, and to think my own thoughts. I have several memories of her helping me with math homework. Several times I tried to get her to just give me the answers to the problems I was trying to solve. Like any good teacher, she refused, insisting, "you have to figure out the answer for yourself."
When I stopped believing in the church, the most devastating thing for me was the realization that I didn't have answers anymore. Worries about the the afterlife and how to tell my family of my apostasy were frightening, but the most terrifying thing of all was the realization that where I thought I had knowledge, I had only ignorance. My recurring thought during the month leading up to my final epiphany was that the rug had been pulled out from underneath my feet. I felt like a cartoon character who, after rushing off a cliff, looks down and realizes that there is nothing beneath him.
Not having answers is scary, especially when it comes to big questions like the meaning of life and what happens when we die. Mormonism gave me very neat and sensible answers. Leaving Mormonism meant leaving the answers. But I still wanted easy answers. I realized almost immediately that there probably wasn't a god, but I held on to the idea of him for more than half a year. I wanted him to exist and I wanted him to give me answers. I kept praying, sometimes desperately. I wanted so very much for there to be a wise, all-knowing being who loved me and had my back. But more than that, I wanted answers--solid, sure, indubitable answers.
Those answers never came. When I finally realized what I'd known all along, that pleading with the silence was not doing me any good, I had to accept that there was no cosmic authority figure who would tell me the answers. I had to figure things out on my own, I knew that I was fallible. Life doesn't have an answer key like my math book did. And I wouldn't have it any other way. As my mother taught me when she refused to tell the answer to that long division problem, the point isn't knowing what the answer is. It's knowing how to think for yourself--because when you think for yourself, the answers you find are really yours.
When I stopped believing in the church, the most devastating thing for me was the realization that I didn't have answers anymore. Worries about the the afterlife and how to tell my family of my apostasy were frightening, but the most terrifying thing of all was the realization that where I thought I had knowledge, I had only ignorance. My recurring thought during the month leading up to my final epiphany was that the rug had been pulled out from underneath my feet. I felt like a cartoon character who, after rushing off a cliff, looks down and realizes that there is nothing beneath him.
Not having answers is scary, especially when it comes to big questions like the meaning of life and what happens when we die. Mormonism gave me very neat and sensible answers. Leaving Mormonism meant leaving the answers. But I still wanted easy answers. I realized almost immediately that there probably wasn't a god, but I held on to the idea of him for more than half a year. I wanted him to exist and I wanted him to give me answers. I kept praying, sometimes desperately. I wanted so very much for there to be a wise, all-knowing being who loved me and had my back. But more than that, I wanted answers--solid, sure, indubitable answers.
Those answers never came. When I finally realized what I'd known all along, that pleading with the silence was not doing me any good, I had to accept that there was no cosmic authority figure who would tell me the answers. I had to figure things out on my own, I knew that I was fallible. Life doesn't have an answer key like my math book did. And I wouldn't have it any other way. As my mother taught me when she refused to tell the answer to that long division problem, the point isn't knowing what the answer is. It's knowing how to think for yourself--because when you think for yourself, the answers you find are really yours.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Faith Walk
I loved girl's camp as a teenager. By girls' camp, I don't mean Girl Scouts--the LDS church does a knockoff version as a part of the YW program. In many ways, it's a lot like a regular summer camp. We had hikes, slept in tents or cabins, did crafts, roasted marshmallows, and went swimming. But it was more than just a regular summer camp; its primary function was to strengthen the testimonies of the attendees.
There were lots of reasons why I loved girls' camp. I've always loved camping, and I enjoyed spending the time with my friends. I loved the campfires and the goofy songs. I loved the late nights and the early mornings; we ran on sugar and goofball-ness instead of sleep. And the best part of girls camp was the "spiritual high," as we called it, that camp induced and that lingered for weeks afterwards.
In retrospect I feel profoundly manipulated by girls' camp. It was a tradition that every year on the last night of camp we would have some kind of huge activity meant to bring "the spirit" and strengthen our testimonies, followed by a testimony meeting. This activity could take various forms from year to year, but the most frequent version was a "faith walk."
It always started in the evening, an hour or so before sunset. It was the end of the week, so we were all exhausted from sleep deprivation and usual camp activities. Most years they built up to the final activity throughout the week. One year especially stands out in my memory.
This year, they spent the week giving little devotionals on various aspects of the gospel--repentance, exaltation, prayer, etc. Then on the last night of camp, they gathered all the girls together and then had us sing hymns while we waited. They guided us off in small groups of three or four, and we went on a short hike. We were instructed to be very quiet and not goof off with each other. At designated places along the trail, leaders quizzed us on the concepts we'd been learning about throughout the week. Our final destination was a section of trail that had been blocked off with a sheet. Here we were blindfolded and taken behind the sheet, and our hands were placed on a PVC pipe rod about four feet above the ground. We walked blindfolded down the trail using the rod to guide ourselves. The only sound was the sinister-sounding whispering of leaders playing the part of devils tempting us away from the rod. They would come up to us individually and whisper in our ears. It was not difficult for me to realize what the simulation was supposed to be teaching, and so I closed down my ears and pressed forward. However, I was nearly to the end when a voice told me that I had reached the end of the rod. I let go, and was immediately escorted to the beginning of the rod. This time I was determined not to let go, and I successfully made it to the end of the rod and my blindfold was removed.
The sight that greeted me is burned into my memory. I was in an outdoor amphitheater in the forest. The sun had set, and the amphitheater was lit by thousands of white Christmas lights and a small potted tree set up on the stage, also bedecked with white lights and hung with miniature portraits of Jesus. All the leaders were dressed in white. Since I was part of one of the first groups to start the walk, the amphitheater was mostly empty. I sat with a few other girls from my ward and waited for the rest of the girls to finish the walk. A boom box was playing hymns, and one of my friends next to me was sobbing.
After all the girls had made it to the amphitheater, there was a short devotional accompanied by some hymn singing, and we made our way back to our cabins as individual ward units. Everyone was very quiet and subdued as we walked back, and several girls were still crying. It was now completely dark.
After we had gathered around our ward campfire, our bishop gave us a brief talk and bore his testimony, and then opened the gathering for testimony bearing. All the girls bore their testimonies, and nearly all of us cried. I remember one girl who initially refused to bear her testimony, but she eventually caved under pressure--all of us sitting near her were whispering to her to go up. At the conclusion of the testimony bearing, a prayer was offered and we went to bed. That year we were sleeping in cabins, and we pulled our mattresses off of our bunks and into the middle of the floor. We fell asleep exhausted and tear-stained.
This exercise was repeated every year I was at girls camp, with variations on the specifics. Not every year involved a makeshift iron rod, but every single year we had a closing testimony meeting with intense pressure on every girl to bear her testimony. One year that we did do the iron rod simulation, the rod was a long rope. We were blindfolded as usual and led around the camp area. When the simulation was over, we removed our blindfolds but we did not let go of the rope. Instead, we carried it with us back to our campsite and continued clutching it as we sat in a large circle. We had learned our lesson: never let go.
There were lots of reasons why I loved girls' camp. I've always loved camping, and I enjoyed spending the time with my friends. I loved the campfires and the goofy songs. I loved the late nights and the early mornings; we ran on sugar and goofball-ness instead of sleep. And the best part of girls camp was the "spiritual high," as we called it, that camp induced and that lingered for weeks afterwards.
In retrospect I feel profoundly manipulated by girls' camp. It was a tradition that every year on the last night of camp we would have some kind of huge activity meant to bring "the spirit" and strengthen our testimonies, followed by a testimony meeting. This activity could take various forms from year to year, but the most frequent version was a "faith walk."
It always started in the evening, an hour or so before sunset. It was the end of the week, so we were all exhausted from sleep deprivation and usual camp activities. Most years they built up to the final activity throughout the week. One year especially stands out in my memory.
This year, they spent the week giving little devotionals on various aspects of the gospel--repentance, exaltation, prayer, etc. Then on the last night of camp, they gathered all the girls together and then had us sing hymns while we waited. They guided us off in small groups of three or four, and we went on a short hike. We were instructed to be very quiet and not goof off with each other. At designated places along the trail, leaders quizzed us on the concepts we'd been learning about throughout the week. Our final destination was a section of trail that had been blocked off with a sheet. Here we were blindfolded and taken behind the sheet, and our hands were placed on a PVC pipe rod about four feet above the ground. We walked blindfolded down the trail using the rod to guide ourselves. The only sound was the sinister-sounding whispering of leaders playing the part of devils tempting us away from the rod. They would come up to us individually and whisper in our ears. It was not difficult for me to realize what the simulation was supposed to be teaching, and so I closed down my ears and pressed forward. However, I was nearly to the end when a voice told me that I had reached the end of the rod. I let go, and was immediately escorted to the beginning of the rod. This time I was determined not to let go, and I successfully made it to the end of the rod and my blindfold was removed.
The sight that greeted me is burned into my memory. I was in an outdoor amphitheater in the forest. The sun had set, and the amphitheater was lit by thousands of white Christmas lights and a small potted tree set up on the stage, also bedecked with white lights and hung with miniature portraits of Jesus. All the leaders were dressed in white. Since I was part of one of the first groups to start the walk, the amphitheater was mostly empty. I sat with a few other girls from my ward and waited for the rest of the girls to finish the walk. A boom box was playing hymns, and one of my friends next to me was sobbing.
After all the girls had made it to the amphitheater, there was a short devotional accompanied by some hymn singing, and we made our way back to our cabins as individual ward units. Everyone was very quiet and subdued as we walked back, and several girls were still crying. It was now completely dark.
After we had gathered around our ward campfire, our bishop gave us a brief talk and bore his testimony, and then opened the gathering for testimony bearing. All the girls bore their testimonies, and nearly all of us cried. I remember one girl who initially refused to bear her testimony, but she eventually caved under pressure--all of us sitting near her were whispering to her to go up. At the conclusion of the testimony bearing, a prayer was offered and we went to bed. That year we were sleeping in cabins, and we pulled our mattresses off of our bunks and into the middle of the floor. We fell asleep exhausted and tear-stained.
This exercise was repeated every year I was at girls camp, with variations on the specifics. Not every year involved a makeshift iron rod, but every single year we had a closing testimony meeting with intense pressure on every girl to bear her testimony. One year that we did do the iron rod simulation, the rod was a long rope. We were blindfolded as usual and led around the camp area. When the simulation was over, we removed our blindfolds but we did not let go of the rope. Instead, we carried it with us back to our campsite and continued clutching it as we sat in a large circle. We had learned our lesson: never let go.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Modesty
When I was in Young Women, modesty was easily one of the biggest things that leaders emphasized. The church has pretty specific standards for clothing, especially for girls. The church's handbook for youth, For the Strength of Youth, says this:
If you noticed, the most stringent standards in the quoted paragraph apply to young women. The young men have standards as well, but they are very different. For example, the young men in my ward often took their shirts off to play basketball in the gym. On the other hand, though, they didn't get to wear earrings, so I guess it came out even.
The way I see it now, these standards are primarily a mechanism of control. They are arbitrary. I point to the earrings standards as a perfect example. Why are multiple sets of earrings bad? Why are men not allowed to have any? Is it because punching holes in your earlobes is bad? Why, then are women allowed to have them at all? On the other hand, if it's okay to punch holes in your ears, why on earth does it matter how many you have?
Turns out I'm right. In the spring of 2005, David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles related the following story in a BYU devotional, which was subsequently published in the Ensign:
Let me repeat that last sentence. The issue was not earrings. The issue was obedience. Setting aside the fact that this man wanted an obedient wife makes me see red, Elder Bednar has here plainly admitted that the standards of the church with respect to personal appearance don't exist for moral or even practical reasons, but for the sake of obedience. The important thing is not to think and make rational decisions, but to follow the "counsel" of church leaders.
Another dimension of the modesty issue that I find bothersome is the fact that it's so repressive. It is one element of a wide variety of aspects of Mormonism that repress sexuality in both men and women. Like it or not, human beings are sexual creatures. That's how we reproduce, and it's a pretty important part of what makes us human. Mormonism in general has a very unhealthy attitude towards sex. It's considered to be a good thing if you're married, but evil and bad if you're not. So it's very important for members to keep their sexuality within carefully prescribed boundaries. Modesty is a part of that. In my own case, it created a strange distance between myself and my own body. Just like I tried my hardest--and generally successfully--never to think about sex or anything sex-related, I was very good at ignoring the sexual dimension of my own body. I think that is very harmful.
A final thing that bothers me about the Mormon concept of modesty is the fact that, yet again, it takes control and autonomy away from the individual and replaces it with blind trust in authority, even if that authority issues arbitrary rules that make no real sense (like the earring example that Bednar so eloquently illustrated). This is one of the most harmful aspects of Mormonism in my view. They claim that agency and choice are fundamental aspects of their religion, but it really boils down to choice between being obedient and thinking for yourself, with the only "right" choice being obedience. The way I see it, that isn't really a choice at all.
Immodest clothing includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, shirts that do not cover the stomach, and other revealing attire. Young women should wear clothing that covers the shoulder and avoid clothing that is low-cut in the front or the back or revealing in any other manner. Young men should also maintain modesty in their appearance. All should avoid extremes in clothing, appearance, and hairstyle. Always be neat and clean and avoid being sloppy or inappropriately casual in dress, grooming, and manners. Ask yourself, “Would I feel comfortable with my appearance if I were in the Lord’s presence?”As a teenager, I was meticulous in following these standards. I always made sure that my clothes had sleeves, that my necklines weren't too low, that my skirts and shorts came at least to my knees and that no skin showed between my neck and my knees.
...
Do not disfigure yourself with tattoos or body piercings. If girls or women desire to have their ears pierced, they are encouraged to wear only one pair of modest earrings. [Source]
If you noticed, the most stringent standards in the quoted paragraph apply to young women. The young men have standards as well, but they are very different. For example, the young men in my ward often took their shirts off to play basketball in the gym. On the other hand, though, they didn't get to wear earrings, so I guess it came out even.
The way I see it now, these standards are primarily a mechanism of control. They are arbitrary. I point to the earrings standards as a perfect example. Why are multiple sets of earrings bad? Why are men not allowed to have any? Is it because punching holes in your earlobes is bad? Why, then are women allowed to have them at all? On the other hand, if it's okay to punch holes in your ears, why on earth does it matter how many you have?
Turns out I'm right. In the spring of 2005, David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles related the following story in a BYU devotional, which was subsequently published in the Ensign:
Sister Bednar and I are acquainted with a returned missionary who had dated a special young woman for a period of time. He cared for her very much, and he was desirous of making his relationship with her more serious. He was considering and hoping for engagement and marriage. This relationship was developing during the time that President Hinckley counseled the Relief Society sisters and young women of the Church to wear only one earring in each ear.
The young man waited patiently over a period of time for the young woman to remove her extra earrings, but she did not take them out. This was a valuable piece of information for this young man, and he felt unsettled about her nonresponsiveness to a prophet’s pleading. For this and other reasons, he ultimately stopped dating the young woman, because he was looking for an eternal companion who had the courage to promptly and quietly obey the counsel of the prophet in all things and at all times. The young man was quick to observe that the young woman was not quick to observe.
I presume that some of you might have difficulty with my last example. You may believe the young man was too judgmental or that basing an eternally important decision, even in part, upon such a supposedly minor issue is silly or fanatical. Perhaps you are bothered because the example focuses upon a young woman who failed to respond to prophetic counsel instead of upon a young man. I simply invite you to consider and ponder the power of being quick to observe and what was actually observed in the case I just described. The issue was not earrings! [Source]
Let me repeat that last sentence. The issue was not earrings. The issue was obedience. Setting aside the fact that this man wanted an obedient wife makes me see red, Elder Bednar has here plainly admitted that the standards of the church with respect to personal appearance don't exist for moral or even practical reasons, but for the sake of obedience. The important thing is not to think and make rational decisions, but to follow the "counsel" of church leaders.
Another dimension of the modesty issue that I find bothersome is the fact that it's so repressive. It is one element of a wide variety of aspects of Mormonism that repress sexuality in both men and women. Like it or not, human beings are sexual creatures. That's how we reproduce, and it's a pretty important part of what makes us human. Mormonism in general has a very unhealthy attitude towards sex. It's considered to be a good thing if you're married, but evil and bad if you're not. So it's very important for members to keep their sexuality within carefully prescribed boundaries. Modesty is a part of that. In my own case, it created a strange distance between myself and my own body. Just like I tried my hardest--and generally successfully--never to think about sex or anything sex-related, I was very good at ignoring the sexual dimension of my own body. I think that is very harmful.
A final thing that bothers me about the Mormon concept of modesty is the fact that, yet again, it takes control and autonomy away from the individual and replaces it with blind trust in authority, even if that authority issues arbitrary rules that make no real sense (like the earring example that Bednar so eloquently illustrated). This is one of the most harmful aspects of Mormonism in my view. They claim that agency and choice are fundamental aspects of their religion, but it really boils down to choice between being obedient and thinking for yourself, with the only "right" choice being obedience. The way I see it, that isn't really a choice at all.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Dear God: What a year can do
I like looking through my old journal entries. I especially like looking at the things I wrote one year ago, and seeing how I've changed since then. I found this in my journal entry for June 17, 2010:
I was essentially an atheist at that point. In an earlier entry I describe myself as a "peaceful agnostic." But damn. On June 17, 2009, I wouldn't have dreamed of writing something like that. And now, I've given up the last shred of wishing-for-God that I still had in the back of my mind one year ago. A year ago, I was figuring out how to define myself in terms of religion. I didn't really believe, but God was frequently on my mind. But after that final night on the temple grounds, I stopped worrying. Now I never wonder if God's really there. I really did give him a fair shot. I really tried to believe, but he never came through.
And you know what? I can safely say that since that last prayer that night by the temple, I've been the happiest I've ever been. I don't wonder or worry like I used to that one of the religions in the world is true, and that I'm condemning myself to hell through my ignorance/non-belief. My whole life, the people I've known have insisted that atheism is the most depressing philosophy out there, that it implies that life is meaningless and empty. But I've found that the opposite is the case. Life without God is free of so many of the worries I had when I believed in God, or when I was trying to believe in him.
One year ago I was a baby atheist. I wasn't even ready to call myself an atheist--I called myself an agnostic, just to be on the safe side. It's amazing what a year can do for a person. God and his existence/non-existence is not really on my radar, to be honest. It doesn't keep me up at night anymore (and it sure as hell used to). Now, I am free.
Dear God,
I don't know if you're real. It would be awfully nice if you were, because sometimes my life sucks. It would be nice if there were somebody who were in charge of it all, who is making all the good and the bad work towards some ultimately good end. But I don't know for sure whether to believe in you or not. Why should I? I mean, I wouldn't want to worship a being who is needlessly cruel. I would find that to be morally reprehensible.
Which brings me to my question--why all the weirdness? Why on earth would you do something so dumb as to hide all overt evidence of your existence, and then threaten people with hell if they don't believe in you? Where's the sense in that? I mean, seriously. Do you have insecurity issues, control issues, or what?
Basically, it would be nice if you could be up-front about who/what you are, and what you want of people. Let's be reasonable here. I refuse to treat life like a college class where the syllabus is a contradictory puzzle with half the pieces missing, and grades are awarded arbitrarily.
I've got lots more to say to you, God, but I'm really tired now. I have class in the morning. So just think about that, OK? If you're really there, why don't you start acting like a rational grown-up? Just a suggestion.
I was essentially an atheist at that point. In an earlier entry I describe myself as a "peaceful agnostic." But damn. On June 17, 2009, I wouldn't have dreamed of writing something like that. And now, I've given up the last shred of wishing-for-God that I still had in the back of my mind one year ago. A year ago, I was figuring out how to define myself in terms of religion. I didn't really believe, but God was frequently on my mind. But after that final night on the temple grounds, I stopped worrying. Now I never wonder if God's really there. I really did give him a fair shot. I really tried to believe, but he never came through.
And you know what? I can safely say that since that last prayer that night by the temple, I've been the happiest I've ever been. I don't wonder or worry like I used to that one of the religions in the world is true, and that I'm condemning myself to hell through my ignorance/non-belief. My whole life, the people I've known have insisted that atheism is the most depressing philosophy out there, that it implies that life is meaningless and empty. But I've found that the opposite is the case. Life without God is free of so many of the worries I had when I believed in God, or when I was trying to believe in him.
One year ago I was a baby atheist. I wasn't even ready to call myself an atheist--I called myself an agnostic, just to be on the safe side. It's amazing what a year can do for a person. God and his existence/non-existence is not really on my radar, to be honest. It doesn't keep me up at night anymore (and it sure as hell used to). Now, I am free.
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