Courtesy of James R. Birrell

While checking in with a few former-member groups on FB, I came across this exquisitely-written assessment of the predicament faced by apostates as they continue to interact with those with whom they once shared a religious belief. Thank you, Mr. James Birrell, for giving me permission to re-post your eloquently-worded thoughts. Without further ado...Mr. Birrell.

"An Iranian student of mine, here at UVU, has been spending time with me sharing about his culture, faith, country, and perceptions of America--which right now is Utah County. He wore a beautiful necklace symbolizing his Zoroastrian faith: the Faravahar. It's beautiful, and I asked if I might have one to wear--if wearing it would not disrespect his faith tradition.

He brought me one last Friday and shared some of the meanings. He said, if you wear this, Iranians and others from the Middle East may come up to you and begin talking with you, because it will change how they see you. I put the necklace on and wore it out of the building. I passed three Middle Eastern men as I did, which is not unusual. What was unusual was that, for the first time in my three years here at UVU, one of them looked at the necklace and said, "hello."

I thought how wearing the Faravahar made me visible to some people, because the symbolism has status; thus, those who wear the symbol are now accorded status. They are no longer invisible. For ten seconds, as I passed that man, I was no longer invisible. For ten seconds I was "real" and "visible" in the perceptual world of a man who otherwise had no reason to see me or accord me status.

Mormonism does not escape that reality. Like any other group, there are symbols we give status to, including membership, level of activity, temple recommend holder, calling, gender, political affiliation, point-of-view, dress, etc. I think more often than not, what we are engaging within the church experience are those symbols: we see each other positionally as Bishop, President, home teacher, etc. We may come to know someone more personally, or visibly, than their place in the order, or how they contribute, hold power, or support us and our families. We may be moved by their knowledge of scripture, frequent testimonies, style of dress, figure or hair, etc. We may even become friends.

We see our perception of them, and according to what symbols we hold as valuable, we give value to them as an expression and affirmation of those symbols. I might give status to the Stake President, for instance, that I don't give to the Ward Librarian. I live in Utah and, while visiting Podunk, Iowa, I see garment lines through a shirt and think, "He is one of us," and accord him status.

We make people who wear the symbols of our faith, i.e., of our sense of what is true, and who is true, right and righteous, and who God surely approves of--because they are like us, etc., one of us, a part of us, real, visible, and approachable.

Without those symbols people are just one of seven billion faces in the sea of humanity that passes us as or almost as invisible, unless someone is attractive, or for some reason, engages us for a moment or lifetime. We size them up, symbolically. We assign status, accordingly.

And for Mormons, what do you do with a so-called apostate? A "doubter" can have status. An inactive member can have status. There is no status for one who intentionally walks away, after having once been enlightened--as the holy Mormon writings say. There is no status, or way to give status from that place that gives status in the first place--belief, acceptance, certainty.

So, those who leave the faith trouble those who stay, because they do not know how to make them visible--that would mean returning them to status somehow; how can the believer do that? Too often when the formerly visible becomes painfully invisible, that which was once so visible becomes inaccessible--and for some even, so lamentable or deplorable, and so painful, that they cannot even be lovable to formerly visible, now exiled one. The once visible becomes--as it were--invisible, as if they were dead, and from that place you can experience all sorts of hurtful actions from those who once held you as equal, and who now have no way to see you at all, except as wrong, lost, destroying our family, captured by the enemy, or worse.

And the truth is, they never really saw you when you were active--save in so far as you met their need to fit and affirm their symbolic sense of reality--you were the righteous priesthood holder, or dutiful wife; you played a role--you were that role! The life of the "exile" is to be invisible to those believers who have no symbolic place to love "all" as the self, as required by their faith. The only currency between people who require status from one another to be OK seems to be pain....and that part can be so hard to make invisible to believers or exiles. The former faith has no status; thus neither does the continued believer. Apostasy has no status; thus, neither does the self-exiled.

From that place, there is only pain! Until there is another way to experience life between the still faithful and once former believer! And that way for you is.........."

My reply, by the way, was quite short: I experience life as stardust, by the way. If I, you, and all the TBMs we know are truly the Cosmos Made Conscious, (thank you, Brian Cox!) we are all products of our genetics/upbringing/race/nationality/religion/influences/experiences, and though I may not relate to any of those particulars, they make up a person who is who and what I'd have been had I been born to/lived with all those particulars. They are a reflection of me - the cosmos made conscious, little bits of stardust - that differs insofar as their collective existence, but are a complete record of who I could've been. How can I not love that, if and when I'm willing (and disciplined) enough to look beyond myself?

I'd love to hear YOUR thoughts! Comment away, people! :)

"Rescuing a Wayward Spouse"

So, if you're not familiar with Meridian Magazine...be grateful. It's an LDS online "thing" with the tagline, "Latter-day Saints Shaping Their World." (Shaping it into what, exactly, is the question.)

Yesterday's post was by a man named Larry Barkdull in response to a question he received from some poor anonymous true-believing Mormon with a doubting wife. Find it here.

I won't bother to explain it, because you can read it for yourself, and at first glance it's not as awful as I expected...but if you view it from the perspective of the doubting spouse, LOOK OUT!

My favorite part, I must say, was the following: "The lie that she is living will likely drive her to the point of decision; either she will admit and abandon it or she will act on it.  We pray that she will abandon it."

In other words, that honest existence of yours...the one where you worship God your way, have a cup of coffee in the morning, maybe a glass of wine with dinner a couple times a week, where you wear tank tops and shorts in the summer, and think for yourself? Your ideas are, ooh, wait, lemme go back and double-check so I can quote him exactly...they are erroneous. 

You, my friend, just like me, are living a lie. (And they pray we'll abandon our lies. Big time.)

 Why do I read this crap, really? To keep up on what others are reading that cause their hearts and thoughts (and missionary drives) to turn to me.

But some friends of mine had some more amusing things to say about the article. (Note: you'd be AMAZED how wonderful, tight-knit, warm, welcoming, and earnest the Ex-Mormon communities on Facebook really are, bless their blackened apostate hearts!) 

So rather than focus on the article in this post, I'd like to take the opportunity to make you laugh. A little sacrilege is a LOT of fun sometimes. (And really, if you're reading this, you probably won't consider it sacrilegious anyway.) So, here goes...thanks to T-Dub and KayEm. You gents rock.

Let's start with KayEm: "What would be fun to read is a mirror image of this article. For example: First a section directly from the article: "I doubt that her issue is the Church. People don't casually discard their beliefs and covenants unless they are dealing with some deep-seated issue that they cannot resolve. Your wife seems to be trying excessively hard to go opposite the gospel, and she is using anti-Mormon literature as her rationale. I would guess that she has been struggling with other non-Church issues for some time." Now a mirror image: "I doubt that his issue is the apostasy of his wife. People don't irrationally adhere to cultish beliefs and covenants unless they are dealing with self-delusions that they fearfully cling to. Your husband seems to be trying excessively hard to go super-gospel, and he is using pro-Mormon literature as his rationale. I would guess that he has been drinking the kool-aid regarding many Church issues for some time.""

Pro-Mormon literature. I love this guy.


And now T-Dub: (Yes, I had to clean it up...just a little.) "Dear Clueless Douchebag, Yes, I have the spiritual flu. My human spirit is allergic to lying, cheating, and pedophilia (and to a lesser extent, megalomania…hey, we all have our crosses to bear, am I right?). My natural (quote Mosiah 3:19 and I’ll kick your ignorant @$$) reaction to learning about clandestine marriages to teenagers by a prophet was nausea, followed by puking my spiritual brains out. Yes, I was sick. Sick of following a cult-y community of not-quite dodos (I mean, it was Yale, for crying out loud!). Sick of making excuses for a man that I wouldn’t make for myself. Sick of justifying homophobia and institutional racism. But, Dr. Douchebag, I’m happy (quote Alma 41:10 and I’ll drown you in green jello and piss in the funeral potatoes at your viewing) to report that I’m all better now. I met the man behind the curtain, and he’s a diptwit. May your powers of discernment and diagnosis continue to lead you in the paths of self-righteousness. I will gladly continue down the path that rocks.

Sincerely,
A former flu patient


Paths of self-righteousness. Someone get this guy a medal!

So there's a little bit of sunshine for your day. Now go out and give your spouse a smooch. No matter their waywardness, they probably deserve it.

Sad Socializings

Is "socializings" a word? Eh. Anywho...

We attended a block party recently. We live in a nice SoCal neighborhood with a large number of really fun folks of all cultures, and - GASP! - we get along beautifully! We even have a Mormon neighbor family just a few houses away...and this isn't Utah.

Who knew?

Our family attended most of the day, then took a couple hours off to shower, nap, and recharge so we could head back to hang out from dinnertime on. It was awesome: the perfect piece of Americana. About half an hour before we headed indoors to de-funk, our LDS neighbor and her kids swung by the party, which was in full swing, and made a beeline for us. She looked incredibly uncomfortable amongst the beer-swilling group (none of them drunk or even close to it, by the way), and when she found a (former) ward member, BAM!, she latched on.

That's all well and good. She's a nice lady, our kids are about the same age, and other than the fact that we no longer share a religion, there was nothing odd about her being friendly with us. (Bless her for not shunning us!)

But then we had to go, and she quite literally followed me to the door, chatting all the way. When we left we could see her through the window of the home that was "base" looking lost, wandering aimlessly over to where her kids were now playing. We returned later that evening, of course, and guess who was eager to strike up a conversation and stay glued to (specifically my) side? Yup.

And that made me so incredibly sad. She didn't understand how awkward that was...to everyone around her. Though I'm sure she feels she has tried to befriend people in the neighborhood, and though I'm certain she does her best to ignore the free-flowing booze, occasional swear word, and tank top or bikini, it was clear that SHE felt awkward...which leaves other people feeling awkward.

It was remarkably painful for me to watch, both because I think she's a really great girl who would make for a wonderful friend and neighbor, and because all I saw in watching her try and fail was MYSELF a couple years back. Me saying hi and then trying to disappear into the background. Me chatting for a minute or two and then heading to the kitchen to help out. Me clinging to ANYONE who even REMOTELY shared my religious beliefs because I could not function among "other" people. (I now see those "other" people as NORMAL, by the way.)

Whether we like to accept it as fact or not, if you were born and raised Mormon, you tend to view people in one of two ways:

1.  A proselyting opportunity/responsibility ("Where much is given, much is required!"), which means you're supposed to strike up a conversation about the church and get whatever stranger with whom you've come in contact to accept your faith so you can thrill over saving their eternal soul.
2. An automatic judge: Could this person cut it in the church? Could they devote themselves to the TRUE religion and give up the coffee they're drinking? the beer they're ingesting? the cigarette they're smoking? the tattoo they're planning? the tank top they're wearing? the significant other they're living with but not married to? If the answer is yes, it is now your perfect duty to convert them, and if the answer is no, they are not worthy of the truth, and therefore, not worthy of your friendship because they may lead you away from truth.

What a sad, sad, sad way to view the human race: by whether or not they might be able to live up to YOUR standards.

So it IS difficult for Mormons to befriend non-members...especially once your teen years are through, the church is your entire identity, and you don't associate with as many strangers on a day-to-day basis to remind you how to get along with others. Yes, Mormons may be some of the nicest people on the planet...but that doesn't mean they know how to be inclusive of anyone but their own.

And maybe that's a good thing: it means there are fewer people being duped by the church because the members have already determined that someone won't convert and therefore don't try. WHEW.

But it still makes me sad. For my LDS neighbor, for my LDS friends, and most especially for myself. Heaven only knows how many wonderful friendships I've missed out on over the years because I just didn't know how to be a good friend...or for that matter, a good member of the human race. I'll never get those years - or those potential friendships - back.

I just sincerely hope others wake up early enough that they don't have to feel like I do.

Can I get an "Amen"? ;)

Intermission: I Can't Change Anybody

It's been a busy couple days, and I haven't been able to pick up where I left off on the Mormon sex talk. Sorry about that. More to come.

A quick intermission, though: after a visit with my parents this weekend, and my mother complaining that she didn't want to expose herself to the John Dehlin "Top 5 Myths and Truths" powerpoint presentation because she didn't want to me to try to change how she feels about her faith, I realized something more clearly than it has ever set in before:

I CAN CHANGE NO ONE.

The common argument against "apostates" is that we thrust our views and discoveries onto others to try to change them. True, we are baffled, appalled, and horrified by the truths we encounter, and often eager to share what we've learned, and it would be simply awesome if those we loved listened and were prompted to research the matter to come to the truth themselves, but whatever our motives, the argument is irrelevant.

WE CANNOT CHANGE ANYONE.

No, seriously. For example, if I tell a faithful, active, true-believing member of the LDS church that Joseph Smith defied the law of polygamy he "received directly from God" by marrying non-virgin already-married women AND without Emma's permission...unless that individual has their own doubts, cognitive dissonance immediately kicks in.

The response isn't "Gee whiz, that fact just made me want to entirely abandon my faith!"

Instead, it's one of a few possible responses:

• "I don't want to hear it."
• "Those are anti-Mormon lies, and you've been deceived."
• "Wow, I'd never heard that! Thanks for sharing. I love you. Now let's change the topic!"
• "That may or may not be true, but it's just not pertinent to my testimony."
• "Joseph was just as fallible as any other guy."

In other words, up that thought goes onto the member's proverbial shelf of "stuff I don't want to think about", and VOILA!, life continues on.

So, no, I'm not trying to de-convert you. Any former member of the church knows that that's just foolishness. Even if we WANT to de-convert you, the only person with the power to manage that feat is YOU. We may make a chink or two in the armor, but if you're a true-believer, even that's not terribly likely.

Why? Because you believe it. Because until you want to take a couple of those horrible truths off the shelf to examine them, until you open yourself up to the possibility that YOU COULD BE WRONG, until you are eager to know the truth no matter the cost, you're going to happily continue on as a Mormon...and there's nothing anyone can do to change it.

Including me.

So even if I WAS trying to "make" Mom change her faith (and I wasn't; I was seeking to be understood), I know full well that that's a fruitless endeavor.

Of course, her fear that her faith could be so easily changed indicates that she realizes there are problems with the church and its doctrines. Her desire to avoid a powerpoint presentation makes it obvious that she likes living in ignorance of the issues others have with the church, its tenets, and its history. And I think there are a LOT of Mormons who turn to response "one" as a result: "I don't want to hear it." (Read: "Let me continue to live in ignorance because I'm so invested in it that I'm terrified of being proved wrong.")

But that's not me. It's her. Because I cannot change her. I lack the power to change anyone.

That power comes from within.

Good luck with your shelves.