This holiday season has been the best my wife and I have had in years. Possibly ever. And I'm saying this having recently recovered from COVID-19. Why has this been a banner year for us? There are over 400 miles between us and our closest Mormon relatives, and I have silenced all my social media apps.
You see, we recently moved out of Utah. It was a long time coming. I quite literally should have done it 15 years ago (I didn't have the money or means to move initially and found various lukewarm reasons to stick around, like a couple bands or a dead-end career). But after several months of hard work and planning, we finally got the hell out of Dodge.
Sure, our new home is in a warmer area with less snow and smog. But I have long suspected that my depression this time of year is not caused by the season, but rather I simply loath and dread having to weather the holidays amid a sea of insufferable Mormons. Now I have confirmation.
It has been a few months since I last drove past a Mormon temple, or a billboard for color coded scriptures for children, or been held captive by a Mormon supervisor at work in a conversation about how awesome it is that their wife is cool with them drinking Kava with their poly friends. Or heard casual homophobia, racism, sexism. Or a comment from an executive director about how we should all be praying before a storm. Or heard someone say that Mitt Romney should quit his job as a senator for Utah because he voted to impeach Donald Drumpf for obstruction of justice and is therefore a traitor to the GOP and the US of A. Or heard a co-worker argue with a mental health patient about the existence of god which is totally apparent because he always answers prayers with "yes, no or wait." Or heard a family member say that President Obama and Hillary Clinton are depraved and awful people while Donald Drumpf is a godly and decent man who just wants to help heal this nation--after all, he did set aside his fortune and live in the humble White House. I no longer have to read conspiracies in a group text about Omicron being a covert way to inoculate the population against COVID-19 without the use of vaccines--which the government will never admit to! I'm not surrounded by conservative science deniers who don't understand the first thing about vaccines, masks or public health. I no longer cross paths on a weekly basis with 18 year old missionaries who are accustomed to having everyone greet them cheerfully and offer them food. I am no longer inundated by people who fetishize parenthood and ask intrusive questions (mostly to my wife) about why we don't have at least 5 kids. People don't look at my wife's multiple ear piercings and tattoos in horror and righteous judgement. People don't view my big bushy beard as statement of counter culture.
But above all else, we no longer have to be the bigger person at family gatherings by leaving politics and religion out of dinner talk despite no one else doing the same. We no longer have to hold our tongues in silence as everyone around us shits on our beliefs. We no longer have activities like movies and walks in the park ruined by inquiries about our status in the Mormon church. We no longer have to worry about offending people by our mere existence while eating ice cream. We can drink coffee in peace. We can swear and talk about R rated movies. We can have beer in the fridge and whiskey on display.
Let's say there's a young woman who is in an abusive relationship with a man. Let's say he is verbally abusive towards her and controls her sexuality in part by holding sex as a bargaining chip. Additionally, if she doesn't comply with his manipulative behavior, he keeps her away from her family and friends. She knows this is unhealthy, but cannot find a way out of this relationship without potentially making matters worse. So, she cuts herself. Her abusive partner finds her bloody and delirious, and takes her to the hospital where healthcare professionals see the signs of depression and self-harm. A psychiatrist talks with her about the apparent abuse, and after several scheduled therapy sessions, recommends that the woman leave the abusive partner. They even get the police involved to make sure the man cannot hurt her further. She takes the life-line and walks away, finally able to start a better life.
As someone who works in treatment, I have seen this kind of scenario play out many times. Most of my experience has been separating children from abusive parents. This is typical for victims of abuse--separation from the abuser. It would be unthinkable, unethical, and possibly criminal for a mental healthcare professional to recommend that a victim stay in the abusive relationship. Right?
I have worked in a number of treatment facilities over the past decade or so. I can't say any of them handle religion in a manner which doesn't cause problems. Utah County is chalk full of Mormons, who believe that they have the one true gospel and only they can save humanity from themselves/Satan/god. The stated policy for every treatment facility I have worked for has been that employees should not proselytize religion to their patients. And yet, I have seen countless instances of Mormons breaking that boundary. Overtly, and unapologetically.
At any rate, I actually agree with the policy. I think it's a good rule of thumb for healthcare professionals to avoid pushing religion (and atheism!), politics, pseudo-science, etc. on the vulnerable people in their care. But some facilities take it a little further. Not only do they discourage proselytizing of patients, they also recommend that patients do not make any changes in their religious views while in treatment.
On the surface, I can see this being a good rule of thumb as well. But I have seen a number of patients who have been hurt by religion or who simply don't want to follow the religion of their parents, and the facility where I currently work encourages them to stick with it. I have seen therapists even refuse to talk to their patients about their thoughts on religion and how it affects their relationship with their parents. Even just encouraging the patient to set a boundary with their parents would have helped smooth out certain situations. But no, that would upset the parents and we can't do that, because the parents are the ones who pay the bill, and let's be honest, the parents are the real customers here, not the patient who is depressed because his parents are controlling every aspect of his young adult life. No, no, religious views (of the parents) must be protected!
Part of the issue here may be due to the fact that Religious Trauma Syndrome is not yet recognized by the scientific community at large. At least, it isn't included in the DSM-V (the go-to diagnostic manual for psychiatrists). Religious trauma can fall under PTSD and similar diagnoses, but as is evident by the way many people avoid talking to patients about religion entirely, I think it would be helpful for it to be it's own category of trauma. It would provide a context for professionals to talk to patients about the very real emotional harm leaving religion can cause.
Imagine a person feeling controlled and manipulated through religion for their entire lives. The people they trust most use religion to coerce them to do or not do certain things. Imagine the religion tells the person not only can they not have sex, but that if they touch themselves sexually that they will be separated from their family for eternity. If it was an abusive parent or spouse, a therapist wouldn't think twice about helping the victim out of that relationship. But religion gets a pass. Religion is presumed to be a net good and way too big a can of worms to open. I have heard Mormons tell suicidal LGBT people that staying with the Mormon church is good for them and necessary for them to be happy. All they have to do is either marry someone they are not attracted to or remain celibate for their entire lives. After all, their family is at stake. Why would they risk losing their family for eternity? Do they want to make their mother cry forever?
To be clear, I'm not advocating that therapists push atheism on a patient. That would be just as unethical as pushing religion. But I am advocating therapists being willing to walk a patient through their own beliefs and encouraging them to stay true to their values rather than the values imposed upon them by parents.
Like many people, I found peace of mind and came out of depression by leaving religion at the curb. Staying in religion would have prolonged my depression. Thank god I'm now an atheist.
I don't particularly like the holiday season. I want to, but I don't. Some might think I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (or S.A.D.). And while the timing seems to fit, I don't think it adequately describes my experience during the winter months.
First and foremost, I'm not really depressed. Sure the weather sucks, and I would rather it be too warm than snowy. But I can manage the cold, honestly. No, it is not depression that fills me, but anger. The holidays make me angry. I guess you could say I suffer from Seasonal Anger Disorder (too on the nose?).
So, why am I so angry when so many people around me are oozing joy and cheer? Why does the jingling of bells and conspicuous displays of trees decked-out with glistening, eye-catching trinkets get under my chilled skin? Religion. Of course it's religion. Religious people take their favorite holiday and spread it out over two seasons (yes, I'm looking at you, Costco). To them the "most wonderful time of the year" translates to about 5 months of overt proselyting. And when people push back and seek inclusion by saying something as innocuous as "Happy Holidays," Christians throw a hissy-fit about an alleged War on Christmas and a decline in American values, as if their religious traditions are synonymous with morality.
I don't have anything against people being open about their beliefs and even arguing about them with others. I have done it plenty. But the holiday season gives Christians of all stripes a social license to be more brazen about it and they get offended by others doing the same. It isn't a level playing field.
Some who have followed this blog or my other social media platforms might think that I am confrontational about religion and actively look for arguments with believers. While it is true that I have found myself in some pretty public arguments online and in person, I don't generally look for those opportunities, and I have even shut down many such conversations when I either didn't feel it was appropriate in the setting (mixed company, usually with children), or I simply wasn't feeling up for it. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I actually got into a religious argument with someone. It's probably been a couple years.
I guess I'm just tired of the conversation. It is always with the same people (family members mostly) and I know it isn't a fruitful conversation to have most of the time. They are too defensive (they literally can't even entertain the idea that their religion might not be true) and my standards for evidence are too high for them to convince me (as if that's a bad thing). We are at a stand-still. Until something changes, I don't see the point.
Despite my reluctance to engage with believers, they routinely seek me out. Just in the past month I have been coerced through social pressure into participating in religious rituals (family members create situations where it would be perceived as rude if I refused), had the Mormon missionaries knock on my door and try to convince me to give them 10% of my income or suffer eternal consequences (when I told them I wasn't interested, they told me they would put me on a "do not contact" list if I gave them my name, which having been a missionary once myself I can tell you is not necessary), and an ultra conservative uncle of mine used the family contact list of all my extended family on my mother's side to send out a newsletter for his conspiracy-riddled Trump propaganda website. And I still have to make it through Christmas.
So, don't tell me "You can leave the church, but you can't leave it alone." I have been actively avoiding arguments with religious people for months (at least) and they keep badgering me. It seems they can't leave me alone. I would love to just let Mormonism be that silly little religious group I was a part of in my youth and move on to more important things, but they won't let me. They literally bring it to my house; they coerce me at family get-togethers; they advertise on freeway billboards and YouTube commercials; they make presumptuous jokes during staff meetings at work. Not a single goddamn day goes by that I am not reminded of the abusive, manipulative zealots that stunted my adolescence and young adulthood. And the holiday season just puts a bell and multicolored lights on it. So, please forgive me if I appear a little grumpy when I hear Bing Crosby in the grocery store telling me how wonderful it is that god sent his son to earth to be murdered because he--the all powerful, all knowing creator of everything--can't forgive his mortal children for touching their junk and drinking coffee without some good old fashioned blood-infused, death cult magic (it should be noted that as a child I was not allowed to watch the movie "Willow" because a sorceress tries to kill a baby so she can use its blood in a magic spell).
You can leave the church, but the church won't leave you alone.
BONUS MATERIAL:
Christopher Hitchens on Mormon missionaries, among other things:
Christopher Hitchens on the death cult of Christianity:
When the creators of South Park, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, dove headfirst into the Mormon pool by producing the satirical hit Broadway play "The Book of Mormon" they received a lot of criticism and adulation from all sides of the religious debate. The Mormon church actually bought ads in the program inviting patrons to read the book after watching the play. The church was betting that many who saw the play would think, "Wow, that's so cool that they are good sports about all this. Maybe I'll check it out." When the more self-righteous mainstream Christians clamored about Mormons not being real Christians and that the play normalized a cult, Matt and Trey came to the defense of Mormons saying something like, "Yeah, Mormons are weird, but they aren't any weirder than the rest of you Christians. At least when we run into Mormons they are super nice and happy all the time."
I get it. Mormons seem quaint and quirky to outsiders. A lot of people view Mormons in the same way they do the Amish: a little backwards, but ultimately harmless. And sure, maybe they aren't as subversive and nasty as some religious zealots can be. But that's how they get ya.
You see, for a Mormon, there is an ulterior motive to their overt pleasantness. They are literally selling you something. For the low, low price of 10% of your income, you, too, can achieve eternal life. Act now and they will even allow you see your family in heaven.
Their greatest marketing tool is their kindness. By being nice to you, the customer, they hope that you will be impressed by their graciousness and want to join their church. It is not unlike Coke-a-Cola spending millions to advertise their charitable givings during the Superbowl. And Mormons are not subtle about it either. They literally talk about it as a way to encourage non-Mormon friends and family to talk to the missionaries and get baptized whenever they have Sunday school lessons about how every member is a missionary. In fact, as an actual missionary one is required to do weekly public service so that locals will see the church in a favorable way.
In my mission we offered free English classes at the church for anyone who wanted to attend. I remember one time we were starting a new round of classes and we pushed extra hard to have a great turnout. We printed new eye-catching posters and plastered the city with hundreds of ads. It took us a week or two to post them all. When the class started we had our highest attendance ever. Dozens of people filed into the entry level class, most of whom I had never seen before. We were ecstatic. Another missionary and I were teaching together, and I started the class by explaining who we were, and what the class would be about. Suddenly, I felt "impressed by the spirit" to bare my testimony that the church was true and the Book of Mormon was a real historical document and all the other typical sound bites Mormons use during a sales pitch. Part way through my testimony, which was starting to drag and feel a bit forced (as they often do), the other missionary interjected and started writing basic words on the white board. He turned to me and whispered, "You gotta include more English, man." I was deflated. I really felt like god wanted me to say what I said, and that I would touch the heart of someone in our captive audience. After all, we were missionaries in post-communist Bulgaria. Business was slow and we were desperate for success.
The next week maybe 25% of the students came back. The week after we were back to our regular crew of about half a dozen people for all three classes.
Sometimes I think about that incident and regret sharing my testimony. Maybe I could have done some actual, no kidding good for the local people who obviously had a desire to learn English (learning English meant having a better chance of winning the Green Card lottery and moving to the USA). Maybe then my two-year mission wouldn't have been a complete waste of time. Other times I think it was a good thing that I put off so many people on the first day of class. At least that way they were able to see our true intentions--and let's be clear, converting them to Mormonism was our intention--and get out while they could.
Maybe it's a wash.
Fast forward to this past weekend when my wife and I went to her parents' home for dinner. We had a pleasant evening. There was good food, we played a board game, my dog got to spend some quality time with her third favorite person in the world. As the night was wrapping up, I thought to myself, "wow, this was actually a nice little get-together." When it was time for us to leave, my wife announced that we needed to get going, and without hesitation my father-in-law said, "Let's have a family prayer." It wasn't a question.
I was livid. I reluctantly stood by as my in-laws and my wife all kneeled on the floor and my father-in-law said a prayer about, well, I don't know, I was too upset to pay attention. The whole evening was a sham. It was coercive, passive-aggressive manipulation. He was betting that we wouldn't want to be rude after such a pleasant evening and would just go along with it. Then god would "do the rest" and soften our hearts and we would leap back into the Mormon pool once again.
Was is a big deal? Could I have gone along with it? Sure. I have in similar situations. But my wife and I have had conversations with her parents about Mormonism and our relationship with the church (we have both removed our names from the church's records). They don't know all the details, because my wife isn't all that eager to get in to it with her parents. And that's fine. She gets to dictate the pace with her family. But her parents know enough about our position to be able to reasonably infer that at the very least things like prayers and firesides and sacrament meetings and General Conference and reading scriptures is touchy for us and very likely to make us uncomfortable. Especially when put on the spot in front of other family members who may not know as much about the situation. What if our roles had been reversed? What if I made it a point to have a movie playing which I knew would offend my guests as they come in? What if I had steered the conversation to things like the health benefits of coffee and tea, or the moral case for abortion. What if before they left my home I insisted that I read a passage from Christopher Hitchens' book god is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything? At the very least I would be a poor host. But when religious people pull that nonsense knowingly in mixed company, they presumably get a pass. Frankly, it's rude and shows a lack of respect for our beliefs and boundaries. But Mormons don't care. The ends justify the means. In their view they are doing us a favor. They are offering us eternal life, after all, for the low, low price of 10% of our income. And if we act now we can spend eternity with pushy, self-righteous assholes.
I really need to get out of Utah...
BONUS MATERIAL:
Christopher Hitchens on how religion poisons everything.
Note: I found this saved as a draft from last February. I never finished it and I don't really remember where I was going towards the end. I gave it a kinda sorta conclusion so that it didn't just end. Mostly I'm publishing this because I was going to write a similar kind of post about another recent occurrence of Mormons mormoning all over the place. I'm sensing a pattern...
I work in mental health treatment and the facility where I work has specific guidelines concerning the way in which staff should talk about certain topics with patients, the long and short of which is staff should generally avoid controversial topics, especially religion and politics. Living in Utah County, where everyone assumes locals are Mormon and "every member is a missionary," this is easier said than done since many people feel a strong desire to save souls from damnation and, after all, Mormonism is totally 100% true, so obviously it can't be a bad thing to use one's influence over vulnerable and impressionable patients in one's care to bring them to the truth which will totally change their life for the better.
You get the idea.
One would think that Mormons, of all faiths, would be able to respect this therapeutic boundary since they believe that those who don't join the church in this life will have an opportunity to do so in the afterlife. This, in turn, raises the question of what the deal is with those tens of thousands (notably not hundreds of thousands, Mr. Holland) of young pre-adult missionaries whose sole purpose is to convince other people that their worldview is fundamentally wrong and they should join the Mormons instead. What could possibly be the purpose of missionary work if the afterlife will surely tie off any mortal loose ends? (Tithing. The answer is tithing.)
The other day a few co-workers and I were chit-chatting between meetings. Apparently some Mormon co-workers not in the room have been bad in this regard. Very bad, indeed. Even after a superior lectured them and told them to stop trying to convert the patients to Mormonism, they kept doing it. And now they got one, because of course they did. Some time in the next couple weeks a mentally compromised and impressionable patient will be baptized into the Mormon church in part because they want to make their Mormon mentors happy. And because this is Utah County, other than a second slightly firmer talking-to, there will be no corrective action for the staff who broke this very important legal boundary (the fact that the staff broke this boundary could open up the institution to a law suit, although it's unlikely).
One person present in our conversation was very vocal in his opposition to proselytizing patients in our care. So much so that I thought I might have found a secular ally. That is, until he went on to clarify his position that although he would never talk to a patient about his personal religious beliefs, he really likes the fact that part of the treatment program at our facility emphasizes the importance of having a Higher Power and how it invariably helps in therapeutic treatment.
I was taken aback by this comment for a few reasons. First, I had completely forgotten that this was part of the program as I have literally never heard anyone--staff, therapist, nurse, psychiatrist--mention a Higher Power as part of the program in the two years I have work for this company. During training meetings prior to starting the job, I didn't make too much of it at the time because, again, this is Utah County and that kind of thing is pervasive within the professional community.
The second reason this mention of a Higher Power struck me was the apparent contrast, no, contradiction it has with the boundary staff are expected to hold regarding discussing religion with patients. I had never realized this before, probably because I had never been presented the two conflicting ideas so close together.
How can a treatment facility simultaneously promote the notion of a Higher Power as an integral part of its program and discourage staff talking about religion with patients? As my co-worker explained, it is because "a Higher Power can be anything."
Well, how is that not just offensive to everyone involved? Believers, non-believers, deists, Buddhists, everyone should find the idea that "a Higher Power can be anything" utter nonsense which belittles all worldviews. Allow me to explain.
For a non-believer (this would include Buddhists and other eastern philosophies which do not necessarily promote a god or deity which would intervene in our affairs) the notion that a belief in a Higher Power is necessary to be successful in treatment is offensive because it implies that since they do not believe they will not be successful. In addition to being offensive, this can be very damaging to the patient, and I have seen this first hand. Furthermore, the notion of a Higher Power in a therapeutic sense originates from Alcoholics Anonymous, which started out as Christian support group during the Prohibition which sought to bring vulnerable and dysfunctional drunks to Jesus. It is inherently religious. Only in recent years has AA and its affiliate organization NA (Narcotics Anonymous) softened the religious verbiage in order to reach a broader base. But the supernatural roots are still there. It should also be noted that the success rate of AA and NA is no better than other secular support groups, because what is really important in treatment and sobriety is social support.
For a believer in a specific, monotheistic god, like a Mormon, say, the fact that a Higher Power can be anything (i.e. a rock, a bag of chips, Donald Trump's dentures, etc.) suggests that the supposed benefits of believing are literally in one's head. What could be more offensive to a believer than to imply that god is psychosomatic, tantamount to a delusion?
For a deist, a Higher Power which would intervene and help a person with mental health issues runs contrary to the central tenet of deism which is that whatever Prime Mover started the Big Bang has left the universe to its own devices. Divine intervention is incompatible with deism generally. Even the softer notion of a Higher Power which would not intervene directly but would simply be disappointed if a person relapsed runs contrary to the core of deism. A deistic Prime Mover simply would not care about a person's treatment.
I could probably keep going, but you get the idea. What I'm driving at, despite my meanderings, is that I'm just tired of Mormonism. I left the church over a decade ago and I'm frankly exhausted. I guess it's true what they say, "You can leave the church, but the church can't leave you alone," or whatever...
Every so often I go to the ExMormon subreddit. I try not to go too often for mental health reasons...
Today I saw a repost which caught my eye:
Normally such a post would yield a "huh, makes sense" response from me and I would be on my merry way to more positive forums on Reddit, like r/scotch and r/bourbon. But today... today I'm feeling a little salty. Maybe it's the Laphroiag 10 Year I recently purchased (it's like they bottled a campfire on a foggy ocean beach). Maybe I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe the drivers on my morning commute were especially obtuse (Utah County shouldn't be allowed to have this much construction all at once). Yeah, that's probably it.
At any rate, I did some digging. It turns out that the original news article is no longer available. Not a good sign regarding the veracity of statistics. Luckily, the DABC reports on such things in their annual report. And it turns out that the numbers are even higher than the Reddit post suggested. In 2018, Utah liquor sales contributed $45.43 million to the school lunch program in Utah. This is a no nonsense, no strings attached charitable contribution for those in need. Pretty cool, huh?
The second part of the post is pretty vague. It simply states that the Mormon church donates less per year than the amount collected from liquor sales. So, I had to dig a little deeper. First I found that the Mormon church claims to have contributed $2.2 billion (with a "B") in charitable aid worldwide since 1985. Bold claim. Too bad I can't verify this beyond what the Mormons say since their financial records have been undisclosed since the 1950's. But, let's do the unconscionable and take them at their word. $2.2 billion over 34 years averages roughly $64.7 million per year. Not bad. Certainly not chump change. But that's not a very firm figure, so I dug deeper still.
According to the church's own newspaper (why would they lie, amirite?), one of the highest level leaders of the Mormon church, Dallin Oaks, claimed that the church contributes about $40 million per year to charitable causes worldwide, and has done so "for more than 30 years." At $40 million per year over 34 years (to 1985), that comes to a total of $1.36 billion. Now, I'm no math wiz, but $2.2 billion does not equal $1.36 billion. That's a pretty sizable discrepancy. $840,000,000 to be approximate.
This tells me a few things. First, the church's newsroom and the church's own newspaper and the church's leadership are not on message. Come on, guys. Fudging numbers only works if you're all united. Second, if both claims are roughly true (again, I'm throwing them a Pangaea-sized bone here), then we would have to assume that Mr. Oaks is citing more recent contributions whereas the other figure is more long-term. This seems more than fair if we grant Mr. Oaks was summarizing off the cuff. If these colossal and beyond generous assumptions are true, then it would mean that in recent years the church has contributed at least $14 million less per year than just a few decades ago.
Furthermore, Utah liquor sales contribute more to the welfare system of Utah per year than the Mormon church contributes worldwide.
It should be noted that in that same time the Mormon church claims to have gained more than double the members (1985 reported 5,919,483 total membership; 2018 reported 16,313,735 total membership; over 34 years reported gaining 10,394,252 members worldwide). This means that when they had 5.9 million members worldwide they were contributing roughly $64.7 million in charitable aid worldwide, (possibly more since $64.7 million is the average and earlier years would probably have been higher to off-set the $14 million average loss in later years ($14 million + $64.7 million = $78.7 million)) and now that they have 16.3 million members they are only contributing $40 million per year. In other words, if the numbers they provided are accurate, the Mormon church has contributed significantly less in worldwide charitable aid in recent years than in years past despite claiming significantly more members.
To put this all into perspective, in 2012 the Mormon church funded a brand new mall right next to the church's headquarters in Salt Lake City to the tune of $2 billion, which is almost as much as the more generous of the two estimated charitable contributions since 1985. Huh, makes sense...
None of this takes into account the common stipulations put on the church's welfare system (like paying the church 10% of your annual income before receiving financial aid--yeah, let that sink in), which I actually have firsthand experience with. As a missionary I was a branch president for a small congregation in Bulgaria. Several members asked me in person for welfare from the church, but since they did not meet the church's requirements for welfare (not full tithe payers) I was not allowed to give anyone any assistance. Let me repeat, when I was in charge of a Mormon congregation in a developing part of the world I was instructed by church higher ups to not give anyone welfare money because they did not give me money first. We didn't have any other charity to offer either, unless you count the free English classes we missionaries offered twice a week. That's it. That's literally all we did for the local community. The rest of our time was spent going door to door trying to convince people that if they didn't join our church and give us 10% of their income they wouldn't be able to see their family for the rest of eternity.
Tell me again how churches are inherently good for society and deserve tax exempt status...
The other day I went down a bit of a rabbit hole, at the bottom of which I learned some things about my family which I had not known. And, frankly, I'm not sure how I should feel about it.
It started with me recalling a YouTube video I came across four or five years ago, in which a journalist for the Times, William Lobdell, called my uncle, Clifton Jolley, "a real asshole." Mr. Lobdell had been an investigative reporter on some of the sexual abuse scandals within the Catholic church and had earned a reputation for being hard on religions. After writing a piece in which he mentions how his traditional Christian beliefs were no more ridiculous than the truth claims of Mormonism, and how this had led to his own faith crisis, a Mormon apologetic group called FAIR Mormon (how's that for hyperbole?) invited Mr. Lobdell to an open forum and debate. During this event, my uncle apparently shouted at Mr. Lobdell and told him he had no right as an outsider to tell believing Mormons their beliefs are not true. The thing which stood out the most to me about this encounter is that my uncle, to the best of my memory, had converted to Judaism several years ago.
Obviously, I had my story wrong. There is no way that my uncle would leave Mormonism for Judaism and then taunt a journalist for decrying Mormon beliefs. That would simply be too absurd.
In order to correct my misconceptions about my uncle, I decided to go against the wishes of my mother, who had always warned caution with regards to certain members of her family as they did not believe the same things we did, and I googled his name.
The person I found was a complicated, well-read, quirky man who had been writing articles for the Salt Lake Tribune--something of a liberal cesspool by Mormon standards--literally for decades. He is a poet, a teacher, and considers himself both a non-practicing "Jack" Mormon and Jew-ish.
I was correct that he had converted to Judaism several years ago. But he also kept the label "Mormon," because, as he puts it, the Mormon church has no right to tell someone if they are or are not Mormon. Apparently, this was an idea within Judaism which really resonated with him. Being a Mormon or a Jew is just as much about one's heritage and culture as it is about their worldview. I wonder if he would apply the same logic to someone raised in the Heaven's Gate or Moonie cults, or, for that matter, under communism.
While I found this new information intriguing, what really blew me away was that my uncle--the guy who publicly shouted at a reported for being critical of Mormon beliefs--had presented at the Sunstone Symposium multiple times. For those unfamiliar with Sunstone, it is an organization which discusses difficult and controversial (I would say "damning") topics within Mormonism. They invite critics of the Church to give presentations constantly.
It seems that my uncle has no problem with criticism of the church generally, as long as it comes from within. So, I guess by his standards I am okay to continue dismantling the tenets of Mormonism since I am staying in my lane, as it were.
The thing that really gets me about all of this is that I'm in my mid-thirties and there are several people to whom I am related that I know virtually nothing about. Honestly, I feel a little gypped. My mother's fear that my uncle and his family might be a bad influence on her children and show them a way out of the church prevented me from getting to know a really interesting member of my extended family. Someone in whom I could have confided a decade ago when my faith crisis kicked into full gear. I realize that he and I probably would not have seen eye to eye on everything, but that's okay. Just knowing someone who had made a similar journey out of the church and came out the other side decent person would have been huge for me. And I suspect this is exactly what my mother feared.
As tempting as it is for me to put all the blame on my mother, I have to take a step back and realize that she is a victim too. Her parents raised her in the church. It isn't her fault she took it seriously. There is a reason most people stick with the religion of their upbringing. They are familiar--and are, therefore, comfortable--with the organization and support system. Facing one's doubts about their entire worldview is inherently emotionally challenging and intellectually painful. Add to this the fact many people are taught that doubts are of the devil and you have a recipe which makes it a wonder that anyone finds their way out of religion alive.
So, no, I don't blame my mother for being overprotective and shielding me from what she thought were genuine threats to my eternal salvation. I simply regret that she felt it was necessary to do so.
BONUS MATERIAL:
My uncle explaining his complicated relationship with the church just a couple years before the shit hit my fan:
A few months ago, at the most recent Mormon General Conference, a man named Garrit Gong was named an apostle of the church. This is significant if for no other reason than the fact that he is the first Mormon apostle to have skin darker than medium beige ("Now are we diverse?"). Along with this new title came the accolades of "prophet, seer, and revelator" (Tell me, again, about religious humility...). Well, as it turns out, during my tenure at BYU I had a few run-ins with Mr. Gong, which allows me to say unequivocally that he (despite his skin color) is without a doubt the most "white bread" church leader I have ever met. Even by Mormon standards, he is positively vanilla.
It is generally well known that to become an apostle in the modern Mormon church you have to undergo a thorough vetting process. The church is surprisingly savvy when it comes to public relations (with a few exceptions regarding civil liberties like race, sexism, homophobia. Ya know, small stuff.), and they have a history of selecting non-controversial figures as their leaders (at least since ultra-conservative President of the church Ezra Benson led them down the "civil rights for blacks leads to Communism" path). I guess having polygamous firebrands like Joseph Smith and Brigham Young as their founders will make an organization a bit self-conscious in the public arena today. And so, evidently, for several decades the church has made it a point to stock the shelves with leaders who have about as much life experience as Charlie Brown. And Mr. Gong makes Charlie Brown look like a Garbage Pail Kid.
First, I went to a Stake Conference where Mr. Gong was the presiding authority. From what I recall, he spent some time talking about his background, and shared some anecdotes which he thought the auditorium of a thousand or more young men and young women would find spiritually uplifting. All I found was an unshakable desire for a nap, which I quickly remedied once I returned home. This was around the time in my journey out of the church that I realized that I didn't much care for church meetings which were all filled with the same weak appeals to authority, fallacious arguments from ignorance, and unfalsifiable claims about the nature of the universe. So, maybe I wasn't in the proper head space to truly appreciate the greatness of this man. Fair enough.
Second, Mr. Gong decided to make the ward circuit and hold special meetings with all of the Elders Quorums in his stake. This is not unheard of, and many Mormons today would likely envy my being present for such an intimate, close-quarters discussion led by a newly appointed apostle (never let it be said that Mormons are impervious to hero worship). So what topic did this self-proclaimed man of god and future "Special Witness of Christ" (TM) chose to impart to a classroom of young adult men and future leaders of the church? He set up the projector to display a PowerPoint presentation he had prepared about the pros and cons of the World Wide Web.
Yup. This was the indispensable information he chose to share with us. He started out by sharing some statistics about the prevalence of porn use among young men in the church (I have no idea if his numbers were accurate, but that's not really the point). And he shared a few stories about people misusing the internet and falling away from the church (usually through porn). He then countered everything he just said by pointing to all the great things the internet can be used for, like family history research, preparing for Sunday School lessons and talks, etc. You know the drill.
Of course you know the drill. Everyone knows this particular drill. And that is exactly my point. Mr. Gong had nothing of substance to add to the conversation. Every person in that room could have just as easily given the same lesson and made the same "moderation in all things" argument we've all heard a thousand times. There was nothing revolutionary about what he said. Furthermore, I recall having a conversation with my roommates (some of whom are still active believing members of the church, so don't they feel sheepish) about how pointless and uninspired that whole lesson was. Seriously, we had a good laugh on the drive home.
So what am I getting at? This is the current state of affairs for god's "One True Church" on the earth. This is the great awakening which Mormons believe is taking place all over the planet as they baptize new members and strengthen their numbers. They are becoming less and less distinct from other Christian denominations because they desperately want to be taken seriously on the world stage. And soon enough (or maybe not soon enough) the things which make the Mormon church unique in any way will be white washed away and they will look just like everyone else. They will become a distinct denomination without a difference. And maybe then, one can hope, they will finally become truly obsolete.
BONUS MATERIAL:
Mr. Gong tackling the provocative topic of science-based morality in his usual mind-numbingly mundane tone:
Outside of every Mormon church building is a sign which states "Visitors Welcome." Only a couple of times in my years as a Mormon have I ever seen anyone take up this offer. Each time the visitors were swarmed by smiling faces eager to set up a meeting with the local missionaries so that the visitors could promptly be baptized (why else would god "inspire" them to walk through the door?). Never have I seen this tactic of flurried interest result in a new Mormon.
Most Mormons seem to have no idea why anyone outside of the church would have no interest in their religion. Mormons believe they have found the one true church with exclusive rights to truth and lasting happiness in this life and the next. Think of it like a pyramid scheme or Multi-Level Marketing company, which happen to do quite well in Utah (after all, why would your bishop's wife lie?). A person who buys into the rhetoric and truly believes the claims that their product has legitimate value and can improve everyone's life will have a similarly difficult time understanding why some people, such as myself, don't care how essential oils helped cure you of your chronic halitosis.
The MLM concept that each employee is a "CEO" of their own business is not unlike the Mormon concept that "every member is a missionary." Furthermore, just as MLM's require their "CEO's" to buy large quantities of product, the Mormon church holds individual member's salvation and eternal families at ransom for 10% of gross (can you really put a price tag on eternal happiness?).
Some Mormons, however, are less credulous. Well, in certain regards, anyway. For instance, once while engaged in an argument on social media wherein I called out the blatant homophobic policies of the Mormon church (shortly after the church announced that homosexuals are apostates and that children of homosexuals in a loving consensual gay marriage could not join the church without reaching the age of eighteen and publicly denouncing the sinful lifestyle of their homosexual parents), a believing Mormon plainly stated that they could not understand why any homosexual would actually choose to be a member of the church. To which I responded: "The Mormon church has made it clear that it is not a welcome place for homosexuals, and it is up to members to decide whether or not that is a good thing." Not long after my comment, this person unfriended me.
In a less dramatic conversation, a family member told me they couldn't understand why someone who wasn't a member of the church would willingly live in Provo, Utah (where BYU is located). At the time I didn't respond, in part due to the fact that this person had no idea that their comment applied to myself. But I think it is quite telling that even believing Mormons recognize that their religion isn't very tolerant or welcoming of outsiders (I can only imagine what it must have been like in Missouri 150 years ago...), which makes their missionary efforts and welcome signs outside their assembly halls seem unnecessary and ironic.
What does it say about Mormonsim if the one place in the world where their church has true power and influence--Provo, Utah--makes non-Mormons feel oppressed or unwelcome? What does it say about a church which claims to be "family centric" if a large minority of the population (up to 10%) and their families are excluded from "the one true church" simply because of who they are? What does it say about the church's leadership when believing members of their church bring attention to the injustices and harm caused by the church's policies and the leaders respond by excommunicating the whistle blowers?
You can tell a lot about an ideology by the way they treat heretics and apostates.
I don't normally listen to the Rational Faiths Podcast, which purports to "Keep Mormonism Weird." They unabashedly defend religion and Mormonism, often in a condescending way (at least for unbelievers; maybe believers find it refreshing and "edgy," but I wouldn't know). I guess they loosely qualify as religious apologists, which, let's be honest, is a pretty easy bar to clear. Perhaps deep down I'm a masochist, but today I took the bait and listened to an entire episode, thus reaffirming my previous distaste in the format.
The episode which piqued my interest was "Ask a Mormon Lesbian With Laura Root (episode 12; 225)." I had some idea the direction Ms. Root might take the conversation, and I wasn't wrong. LGBT people who (voluntarily) choose to stay within the Mormon religion, including Ms. Root, tend to follow one line of reasoning: they claim to know Mormonism is the one true church as evidenced by exclusively divine feelings, and they struggle to reconcile their aforementioned feelings with the church's harsh stance on LGBT people within the theology (as Ms. Root puts it, there is currently no place within Mormonism for LGBT people and the church is an unwelcoming place for gay people--this may be the only point on which we agree).
The bulk of the show was dedicated to a question from a listener who was looking for ways to support LGBT people in the church. In particular the listener didn't know how they should approach situations in Sunday school or other classroom settings when someone says something homophobic in a lesson or cites the church's Proclamation on the Family, which contains some strong words against gay marriage.
Ms. Root and her guest (a straight Mormon man with gay relatives who has reconsidered his position on LGBT Mormons) defended the Proclamation on the Family, but also advised listeners to plant seeds in support of gay marriage. Try to figure that one out.
Furthermore, Ms. Root tackled the elephant in the room of why a gay person should stay in the church. Her response: To support the gay children who will inevitably be born in to bigoted, homophobic Mormon homes. Admirable. Perhaps even worthwhile to a certain degree. I can't make that decision for anyone else, but I will say that while this approach may give some LGBT youths a soft landing pad within the church, ultimately I think it will do more harm than good.
As I noted above, Ms. Root said herself that there is no place within the church's theology for LGBT people. The center of Mormon doctrine revolves around the traditional family unit, including the hierarchy in heaven. Without major changes in core doctrines LGBT people really have no chance of making it into the highest degrees of glory in Mormon heaven, which is all about one man having polygamous wives and innumerable children. For gay people, it just doesn't work.
One alternate theory is that faithful gay people will be made straight in heaven, but this sits about as well for many gay people as the idea of a straight person contemplating becoming gay. Not to mention the sexual orientation of a person is pretty central to the core of who they are as a person. Changing that would fundamentally change the individual, so in what sense would they go to heaven?
Ms. Root's advice, while laudable, is shortsighted. The core of the issue is the doctrine, not the conservative homophobic ideals of yesteryear which pervade the church's culture. The only way for the church to consider changing their doctrine--and this has been found true many times over the church's history--is through their pocketbooks (like when they denounced polygamy (twice!) because the Federal government threatened to seize millions of dollars in church assets, including their temples).
Maybe this means the church gets sued for discrimination (which is why the church is so vocal about Utah legislation including provisions for the church to be allowed to discriminate). Maybe this means that other universities boycott sporting events with BYU (this very likely played a roll in the church's decision to allow black men to hold the priesthood in 1978). Maybe this means that every person who finds the church's position on homosexuality to be reprehensible leaves the church in droves, thus hemorrhaging their annual tithes and offerings. Maybe it should be all three, plus a few I didn't think of.
I understand the urge to stick around and make things better from the inside, but this approach has never yielded anything from the church aside from consolation prizes (like when parents complained about worthiness interviews of children, and the church "allowed" parents to sit in on the interviews--a right which they already had as parents.). The only worthwhile advice anyone should be telling a young gay person in the Mormon church is to get the hell out before they become another gay Mormon statistic.
In the ever-growing wake of religious scandals (abuse and rape of children, fraud, theft, dark political money) the Mormon church has always found a way to minimize its own questionable practices as they come to public light. For instance, when critics found millions of dollars of money coming from the church to influence the 2008 vote in California on Proposition 8 (which would change the California constitution to make gay marriage illegal), believers said the figure was grossly exaggerated, and that most of the funds came in the form of Mormon volunteers going door to door to rally supporters for "traditional marriage."
In November 2015 the church announced that homosexuals are considered apostates to the church and that children of homosexuals in a gay marriage could not join the church until they reached the age of eighteen (rather than eight) and only after they formally denounce the gay marriage of their parents. The church tried to soften the PR blow back by interviewing D. Todd Christofferson (a high ranking Mormon Apostle with a conveniently gay brother) by an active believing lackey fielding pre-approved softball questions emphasizing that the church super duper loves gay people and the purpose of this change is to not cause division among gay households, just like they do with polygamous households (never mind that gay marriage is legal and polygamy is not).
When the church received criticism about conducting "worthiness" interviews of adolescents as young as twelve years old, wherein the church leader would ask explicit detailed questions about the youth's sexuality and masturbation practices, the church reluctantly--and only recently--conceded that parents could be present during such interviews (apparently this isn't a new thing, and there is a protest march at Temple Square scheduled for this Friday. Fun.). It should be noted that even with this "change" church leaders will still ask pre-teen boys and girls whether or not they masturbate with the intent to help them repent of their transgression.
When concerned Mormon parents encouraged a grassroots movement to record these sexually explicit interviews of minors to show the world how inappropriate such questions are for a grown man to be asking children, the Utah state legislature tried to pass a law which would make such recordings illegal (how's that for separation of church and state?).
When the church came under scrutiny for not encouraging church leaders to report child abuse to the police, the church's attourneys responded with the "Gold Standard" defense, claiming that if they reported abuse to the police, fewer people would feel comfortable confiding in the bishop.
In 1978--well past the tail end of the civil rights movement--the Mormon church, which had always maintained that god will never grant priesthood authority to black men because of the curse of Cain and their lackluster performance during the pre-mortal war in heaven, backtracked on the issue and allowed black people full membership rights, including admission into their temples and allowing black men to hold priesthood office. Mormons still have a hard time understanding why black people aren't jumping at the chance to join the church nearly forty years after this announcement.
In 1890 the Mormon church announced that the eternal principal of plural marriage (i.e. polygamy) would no longer be practiced or endorsed by the church. In 1904 the Mormon church announced again that the eternal principal of plural marriage would no longer be practiced or endorsed by the church. Why the second announcement? Because many believing faithful Mormons didn't buy the ruse. They knew that the only reason the Mormon president made the announcement in the first place was because the US government was threatening to seize the church's assets, including their million dollar mini-mansions (i.e. temples). It was largely seen as a political move, and even the president of the church who made the announcement, Wilford Woodruff, married yet-another-wife afterwards. Those who did not see it as a political move denounced Woodruff as a false prophet. Now the church hems and haws and tries to downplay the importance that polygamy played in the church, but their scriptures and several decades of church leadership clearly and unequivocally state that polygamy is necessary to reach the highest degree of glory in heaven. To this day several Mormon sects and even individual Mormon leaders still practice polygamy (including current president of the church Russell Nelson!).
Most recently a woman has accused Joseph Bishop (a high profile Mormon who has held very significant positions within the church, such as Mission President in Argentina, Mission President to the Missionary Training Center, and President of Weber State University) of sexual abuse and attempted rape while she was a missionary under him in the MTC (mid 1980s). I won't go into the details of the abuse here since others have done so quite thoroughly (Infants of Thrones, Mormon Stories). Instead I want to focus on the church's response to these allegations (their official statement).
The long and short of it is that the church claims it went through proper legal channels and reported the abuse to police and did not have enough evidence on their own to issue any discipline to Bishop at the time (to put this into context, a couple years ago John Dehlin was excommunicated for using the Mormon Stories podcast to discuss problems with Mormon church history and abuses by the church against homosexuals, and Kate Kelly was excommunicated for creating the Ordain Women movement and suggesting that the church should allow women to hold the same leadership positions as men within the church). This is strange to me since we now know of a second woman who has made similar accusations against Bishop, and the first woman recorded a conversation between herself and Bishop wherein he admits he "confessed all his sins" to his ecclesiastical leader, including the abuse of both of these women. He also strongly implies that he abused other women for many years.
Maybe he's lying. Maybe the recording was faked. Maybe it's all true, but the church didn't know the details or extent of the abuse. Maybe the church is lying. Who knows? But let's suppose that the church's version of the story is completely true. Does this make things better? Not in the view of a believing Mormon.
You see, Mormons believe that their church leaders have what they call "the power of discernment." Basically this means that they have a direct line to god and if someone is lying during a worthiness interview (like when they ask a twelve year old girl if she masturbates) god will let the church leader know. Nothing gets past god. Except, apparently, Joseph Bishop.
A couple years ago I posted something on my Facebook page about Utah having an unusually high suicide and homelessness rate for gay teens as a direct result of the November 2015 policy change discussed above. In response, a Mormon acquaintance sent me a blog article (unfortunately the link appears to be broken), which sought to make the case that Utah had the same rate of suicide for gay teens as any other state. If I had granted that this blogger's assessment was accurate, I would still be left asking why Utah wasn't better than all the other states. If the Mormon church is true, then surely they should be better suited to help those most in need of support. The claim that the predominately Mormon state of Utah is just as bad as anywhere else is a tacit admission that the church doesn't really make things better in important social matters.
Furthermore, that fact that the church has such a long history of being several years behind every social movement of the past hundred years (with the exception of women having the right to vote, which Mormon apologists love to point out, but which can easily be explained as an opportunistic way for Mormons who still practiced polygamy to cast more votes per household. So there's that.) begs the question, in what sense is the Mormon church true? In what sense does the church make people behave better? In what sense does god lead the church and its leaders?
Why would god not tell Joseph Bishop's priesthood leader that he's lying about his worthiness? Why would god allow Bishop to be promoted through the ranks of the church amid prolonged sexual abuse? For Mormons who want to fall back on the adage that god does not intervene due to agency, first of all, that is a terribly convenient excuse, don't you think? Second, that doesn't explain why god allowed Bishop to be promoted. In addition to leaders having the power of discernment, Mormons believe that if a leader becomes sinful or abuses their power, god will remove them from that position. Why didn't he do it to Bishop?
What the hell, here's a scripture for reference: D&C 121:37 "That they may be conferred upon us, it is true; but when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man."
It's almost as if god doesn't exist...
BONUS MATERIAL:
Tracie Harris on god allowing children to be raped.
When my devout Mormon mother finally confronted me on my disbelief it led to a 3 hour conversation, through most of which she was inconsolable. At the end of the conversation she invited me to attend church with her the next morning. I politely declined.
In a second 3 hour conversation, my mother told me that because I had left the church, she had failed me as a mother.
Some time later, my eight year old niece was to be baptized into the Mormon church. My older sister invited me to the baptism, which I attended. During part of the ceremony, a group of close family and friends gathered around my niece to lay their hands on her head and give her a blessing. Although I was not invited to participate in this blessing for understandable reasons, my mother whispered to me with a motherly twinkle in her eye, "That could be you."
Later that same day, my older sister hosted a luncheon with family and friends. While in line to make a sandwich, a long time family friend confronted my younger sister about her leaving the church. I stood quietly as my sister simply and honestly explained her reasons without drawing too much attention to herself. Flabbergasted, the family friend turned to me and said, "Well, you still go to church, don't you?" I said, "No," and did not elaborate. She replied, "It's okay. We still love you."
Around the following Christmas, my mother got a Nook. She had a hard time setting it up, and asked me to help her. Per her request, the first book I put on the device was C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity, which is about as faith affirming as a book can be without being actual scripture. The second book was the entire Mormon canon.
When my wife and I started dating, her family was concerned that I was not an active believing Mormon. Her father even wrote her an email citing, among other things, my disbelief as a disqualifying attribute for someone looking to date his little girl, for whom he only wants the best.
A couple of years later another niece of mine was to be baptized. This time I declined the invitation, citing my own bachelor party as the reason, which none of my family attended (to be fair, it wasn't much of a party, possibly due to lack of attendance).
At my wedding, while my wife and I were busy posing for pictures next to a cabin in the middle of a lush vineyard on a sunny July morning, my father volunteered himself to offer a prayer over the reception food. I suspect this was his passive aggressive way of shoehorning some religion into our otherwise completely secular outdoor ceremony. Although, I never bothered to ask him directly. (I realize this one sounds fairly innocuous, so let me put it in a different context. Suppose a Christian attended a Jewish Passover celebration, and decided to interrupt the festivities with a prayer to Jesus. It would seem to be in poor taste, no?)
In an attempt to get us to use a Mormon Bishop as our wedding officiant, who would have been compelled by protocol to use his platform as an opportunity to chastise us for not having a real wedding in a Mormon Temple, my in-laws refused to pay the non-denominational minister we used for our secular ceremony (It was totally worth the $150 to not be talked down to at my own wedding).
I have only attended two (that's right, two!) of my seven siblings' wedding ceremonies due to Mormon prohibitions on non-card-carrying Mormons entering their temples.
When the U.S. supreme court legalized gay marriage in 2015, I posted a picture of a notoriously anti-gay Mormon leader with a rainbow overlay on my Facebook wall as a joke. A couple days later, the church leader died, and my post exploded with comments. My father in-law wrote a rather long private email to me defending the church leader, and chastising me for being so insensitive. I wrote a thoughtful response back defending my post, and inviting my father in-law in a discussion about the issue. I never received a response. Later, he admitted to my wife that he didn't even bother to read what I wrote.
About a year ago, while attending a Sunday dinner with my in-laws, without any notice my father in-law decided to turn the TV to a live Mormon holiday broadcast. They were surprised when my wife announced about five minutes into the broadcast that we were leaving.
A few weeks later, my wife and I helped her family with some home renovations. Her mother invited us to stay for dinner, to which she had also invited the sister missionaries.
When my father died last year, part of the funeral preparations involved dressing my father's body in his Mormon Temple clothes, which are normally kept out of view of anyone who does not have a current Temple Recommend, even otherwise active believing Mormons. Traditionally, the dressing occurs the day before the viewing by family or close Mormon friends. I was told about the dressing, but was not invited to participate due to my disbelief. My sister in-law even joked about how distraught some family members would be if I just showed up to help. At the viewing, my older brother thought it unjust and unnecessary for my younger sister and I to have been excluded from the dressing, and he invited us to put the finishing touches on my father before we closed the casket.
Over the holidays, my wife asked her mother if she could borrow some soda for a drink her younger sister had told her to try. Her mother responded, "Is it for alcohol? If it is, I don't think I can give it to you. I don't want to be a part of that."
The next time we were at the in-law's home they invited us to attend a fireside (a special church service at night), in which my wife's teenage brother would be speaking. My wife asked if I was interested in attending. I flatly said, "No." My mother in-law was visibly disappointed.
I have tried to maintain healthy boundaries with believing family and friends, while ensuring mutual respect, at times less successfully, I admit. But it seems to be one sided. Imagine if my in-laws had asked us for a loaf of bread, and I responded, "Will it be used for the sacrament? If so, I don't want to give it to you, because I don't want to be a part of that." Imagine if we had invited my in-laws to dinner, to which we had also invited friends who were very vocal about leaving the church, and afterwards we decided to watch the most recent episode of the Atheist Experience.
Imagine I had told my mother that I did not want to put religious books on her Nook because I didn't support what they said, and I didn't want to enable her delusion. Imagine someone told me they had recently started going to church and I responded, "It's okay. I love you anyway." Imagine if a child of mine joined a church, any church, and I told them that because they believe in unsubstantiated nonsense I have failed them as a parent. Imagine I had responded to my mother after she tried to guilt trip me back into church activity at my niece's baptism, "Ya know, Mom, because you're a woman in the the church, that can never be you."
Imagine I had told my believing Mormon friends and family that they were not invited to my wedding because they did not believe the same thing as me. Imagine I stood up at a Mormon wedding reception (because I would not be allowed to attend the wedding ceremony) and started explaining how the Book of Mormon is historically and scientifically anachronistic. Imagine I told my believing family they could not dress my body at my funeral because they believe in fairy tales.
All things considered, I feel like I have been pretty goddamn cordial.
