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I make my living as a professional freelance musician. At least half of my income is from church gigs, especially during the holidays. Some of the churches in my area will go all out putting together large orchestras including brass and percussion to accompany their choirs' Christmas programs. Their music directors are often paid, are reasonably proficient, and are given wide latitude in selecting music for their holiday performances. Although I'm not a believer, I can still appreciate well-written religious music despite its ideological origins, and I usually enjoy the church gigs.
Just last night, I had one of those gigs that makes me proud to do what I do. My parts were challenging, well-suited to my instrument, and extremely satisfying to play. The choir was not top-tier, but very good for an amateur group. This was not an unusual experience. I routinely perform with Christian church groups that match or exceed what I heard last night.
As someone who grew up playing a lot of piano and organ in the Mormon Church, singing in ward/stake choirs, and serving as ward choir director, the contrast could not be more stark.
No ward/stake level Mormon group that I've heard could hold a candle to the level of playing and singing I heard last night. Of course the Mormon Church has its regional choirs such as the Mormon Choir of Washington or the Mormon Choir of Southern California who might be able to match it, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square who exceed it. Generally speaking, however, Mormon wards and stakes simply cannot muster either the numerical strength or consistency of musical skill that I heard last night. And most Mormon wards and stakes simply do not have the budget or desire to hire professional instrumentalists to accompany their choirs even once a year, let alone regularly. Too much of the money disappears into Salt Lake City's black hole of fiscal non-accountability instead of staying in local units to benefit the people who donate it.
This brings me to the question of repertoire selection. The program last night included selections from operas and oratorios, a suite of excellent Christmas music arrangements with fantastic instrumental parts, and a carol beautifully arranged and orchestrated by our conductor. All of the Christian groups with whom I perform draw from the entire repertoire of both classical and contemporary composers and songwriters. The Mormon Church on the other hand, discourages performers from looking outside the church. The likes of Janice Kapp Perry, Kenneth Cope, and Lex de Azevedo are thought to be the pinnacle of musical achievement. As a result Mormon performers cripple themselves before they even begin by eliminating from consideration most of western civilization's great religious music.
Finally, the question of money, or, "Nothing says thank you like dollars in the waistband."
The Mormon Church, whenever possible, demands that its needs be met for free, out of the goodness of members' hearts. As a result, you will rarely find a professional-level instrumentalist or choir director performing in a Mormon service. This is nothing more than basic economics at work.
Musicians have to make a living too. As much as I love what I do, "blessings" and "thank-you's" do not pay my rent, put gas in my car, or food on my table. I wouldn't do it if there wasn't money in it. If you want a high-level product, you have to pay for a high-level product, otherwise there is no incentive for musicians to persevere through the years and expense of professional training and slavish practicing necessary to refine their skills.
For one of my steady jobs, I play keyboards in a small church in my city. The congregation ranges from 20-40 members in size. Somehow this tiny congregation in a not-wealthy part of town manages to come up with the money to pay me a fair salary for services rendered.
If the majority of the tithing money received by Mormon congregations stayed in local units, every one of the wards and branches I lived in could easily afford a professional organist and music director, and could afford to hire extra musicians for special occasions. Instead, Mormon congregations, even at Christmas, settle for poorly-performed renditions of bland and uninspiring music.
This is why the Mormon Church will never be the pinnacle of artistic achievement that Spencer Kimball called for. The church is just too stingy and repressive to foster great art and music. It doesn't allow artists the freedom to produce or perform their best work, and it doesn't reward them financially when they do.
Meanwhile, contrary to Kimball's wishes, the Wagners, Verdis, Carusos and Pattis of today continue to work for clients that pay.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Worldview and morality from an atheist perspective
As a devout Mormon, my morality consisted of a set of rules. Reasons for the rules didn't matter much- obedience did. Certain activities were prohibited, others required. End of story. Mormons are taught that "obedience is the first law of heaven," and that God will bless them for their obedience to church leaders even if those leaders are wrong. When the Mormon prophet has spoken, the thinking has been done, the debate is over, and all that remains is for the faithful to live in strict compliance.
After the last tatters of my Mormon beliefs evaporated, I looked carefully at the rules I had grown up with, discarding most of them and keeping the ones that made sense outside of a religious context. Prohibitions on murder and theft, for example make sense outside a religious context, because the harm they prevent is self-evident. Restrictions on what I do on Sunday, or as a consenting adult in the privacy of my own bedroom, do not make sense outside a religious context.
From these, I consciously constructed a new worldview and set of guiding principles:
I am willing to reconsider my views in the face of new and compelling evidence. If there is a god, he, she, or it is welcome to bring that to my attention at any time. However, I believe that any god worthy of the title would have as much regard for my carefully thought out disbelief and consciously constructed moral compass as for the blind faith and unquestioning obedience of the devout. Any god that would condemn me to eternal torment or deprive me of blessings for taking this path is nothing more than a tyrant with superpowers and is undeserving of my worship.
After the last tatters of my Mormon beliefs evaporated, I looked carefully at the rules I had grown up with, discarding most of them and keeping the ones that made sense outside of a religious context. Prohibitions on murder and theft, for example make sense outside a religious context, because the harm they prevent is self-evident. Restrictions on what I do on Sunday, or as a consenting adult in the privacy of my own bedroom, do not make sense outside a religious context.
From these, I consciously constructed a new worldview and set of guiding principles:
- My life belongs to me. I own my decisions and their consequences. Being true to myself trumps most other considerations, so long as I do not infringe on the rights of others. I am under no obligation to believe or do anything solely because someone else's feelings will be hurt if I don't. I alone am responsible for ensuring my happiness and finding ways for my life to be meaningful.
- I do not believe in a supreme being or an afterlife. Current scientific knowledge is more than adequate to explain my existence. I do not need a Creator for the universe to make sense.
- I don't need religion or God in order to be moral and ethical.
- Life is extraordinarily precious. There is no second chance, no heaven where everything will be made right. Premature death, or a life subject to grinding poverty or disease, is a tragedy. For that reason, I feel compelled to support humanitarian causes.
- Present relationships and enjoyment should never be sacrificed in hopes of a heaven that may or may not exist.
- I have the right to set and enforce boundaries in my relationships with others in order to protect my individual sovereignty.
- Is it consensual?
- Does it hurt or benefit anyone?
- Is it sustainable? If everyone behaved this way, what would society be like?
I am willing to reconsider my views in the face of new and compelling evidence. If there is a god, he, she, or it is welcome to bring that to my attention at any time. However, I believe that any god worthy of the title would have as much regard for my carefully thought out disbelief and consciously constructed moral compass as for the blind faith and unquestioning obedience of the devout. Any god that would condemn me to eternal torment or deprive me of blessings for taking this path is nothing more than a tyrant with superpowers and is undeserving of my worship.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
They're not really happy- they just think they are
The Mormon Church teaches that true and lasting happiness comes only through obedience to its rules and doctrines, and that obedient, temple-sealed Mormon families are happier, more loving, and generally superior to their "nonmember" counterparts.
It can be hard to sell this position. You see, obedience to the Mormon Church means giving up a lot of things that the church doesn't approve of. For adults, this means giving up 10% of your gross income and abstaining from alcohol, tobacco, coffee, tea, and premarital sex. For kids, it means giving up a lot of normal childhood fun in order to "observe the Sabbath": Three hours of church meetings in uncomfortable clothes, and restrictions on what types of activities are permissible afterward. Many Mormon families don't allow their kids to play outside on Sunday, and they wouldn't dream of going out for ice cream, a movie, or to the beach on "The Lord's Day." Only "reverent" (translate: "boring") activities are allowed.
When children of strict Mormon parents see their less devout friends and neighbors playing outside or heading down to the lake instead of church on Sunday, they often wonder aloud, "Why can't we do that? It looks like they're having a lot of fun." At this point, the devout Mormon parent says something like, "They aren't really happy. They think they are, but we know better. We have true happiness because we have the Gospel."
This teaching became a major contributor to my cognitive dissonance and eventual questioning of the church.
A little background:
I was one of six children of a strict Mormon family. My devout and authoritarian parents were direct descendants of Mormon pioneers. Their obedience and faithfulness to the church exceeded that of most of the Mormon families I've encountered since then. In nearly every respect, they were "by the book." If the church taught it, they lived it, and they expected the same measure of devotion and obedience from their kids.
My childhood was not a happy one. Although I was never physically abused, my parents' authoritarian style created an environment of contention and fear. Molehills became mountains, and I was frequently punished for simply expressing disagreement. I looked forward to anything that got me out of the house and away from my parents. I never felt like I could open up to them and honestly share my feelings without being criticized. I got so used to simply doing what I was told that I reached adulthood with severely stunted decision-making skills.
When I was eleven, one of my older sisters had a falling out with our mother, moved out, and left the Mormon Church. Although she eventually reconciled with the family, she never returned to the church. She married a man who is agnostic, and they are raising their own children with no particular religious emphasis.
By contrast, one of my older brothers married a devout Mormon. They are raising their kids in the church with an authoritarian style that is reminiscent of, albeit gentler than, that of our parents. Strict obedience is emphasized and church rules are observed to the letter.
I've spent enough time with both families to have seen them at their worst, when the facade of "best behavior" has worn off, and both parents and kids are tired and cranky. I've also seen both families at their best, when they are having fun and enjoying each other.
According to Mormon teachings, my sister's family is missing something necessary for true happiness. They should be less loving, less happy, and less close than either my brother's family or the family of our childhood.
Even as a devout Mormon, I realized that this is not the case. Instead, the result is exactly the opposite:
My brother and his wife have replicated the stern home environment in which we were raised. His home is not a happy or comfortable place to be. Instead, it is hectic and contentious. Molehills become mountains, and he often punishes his kids simply for expressing disagreement. I love and respect my brother, but I would not want to live in his house or have him as my parent.
My sister's home is one of my favorite places to visit. She and her husband treat their children with respect, encouraging them to think and form their own opinions. They also allow the kids far more decision-making latitude than we ever had, which seems to result in desirable behavior more often than not, and teaches good decision-making skills and understanding of consequences. They are not burdened by having to enforce extra rules imposed by a church. I am constantly impressed by the maturity, stability, and thoughtfulness of my sister's kids, and by the atmosphere of love, respect, and fun that exists in their home.
Cognitive dissonance is what happens in your mind when reality doesn't align neatly with your worldview. To resolve the dissonance, you have to either somehow rationalize and distort your perception of the world, or you have to modify your worldview to harmonize with reality. Over a period of several years, cognitive dissonance from this and other factors compelled me to question and modify my worldview, which eventually resulted in my leaving the Mormon Church.
Phrases like, "They're not really happy- they just think they are," are thought-stoppers- ways for devout Mormons to rationalize away their cognitive dissonance without really addressing the issue. Protestations of happiness are a consistent theme of Mormonism, emphasized in sermons, lessons, scriptures, and conversations, and are intended to convince Mormons that Mormonism makes them happier than their non-believing friends, family members, neighbors, and coworkers.
Methinks thou protesteth too much.
My sister's family doesn't just think they're happy- they really are. Her kids are growing up with a far more pleasant childhood, better decision-making skills, and a more loving relationship between parents and children than I ever experienced. They don't need to reassure themselves or brag about their happiness- it's obvious to anyone who knows them. Nothing is missing from their lives. They don't need fairy tales, and they don't need some church taking their money and imposing arbitrary and asinine rules on them.
They are happy on their own terms. What could be better than that?
It can be hard to sell this position. You see, obedience to the Mormon Church means giving up a lot of things that the church doesn't approve of. For adults, this means giving up 10% of your gross income and abstaining from alcohol, tobacco, coffee, tea, and premarital sex. For kids, it means giving up a lot of normal childhood fun in order to "observe the Sabbath": Three hours of church meetings in uncomfortable clothes, and restrictions on what types of activities are permissible afterward. Many Mormon families don't allow their kids to play outside on Sunday, and they wouldn't dream of going out for ice cream, a movie, or to the beach on "The Lord's Day." Only "reverent" (translate: "boring") activities are allowed.
When children of strict Mormon parents see their less devout friends and neighbors playing outside or heading down to the lake instead of church on Sunday, they often wonder aloud, "Why can't we do that? It looks like they're having a lot of fun." At this point, the devout Mormon parent says something like, "They aren't really happy. They think they are, but we know better. We have true happiness because we have the Gospel."
This teaching became a major contributor to my cognitive dissonance and eventual questioning of the church.
A little background:
I was one of six children of a strict Mormon family. My devout and authoritarian parents were direct descendants of Mormon pioneers. Their obedience and faithfulness to the church exceeded that of most of the Mormon families I've encountered since then. In nearly every respect, they were "by the book." If the church taught it, they lived it, and they expected the same measure of devotion and obedience from their kids.
My childhood was not a happy one. Although I was never physically abused, my parents' authoritarian style created an environment of contention and fear. Molehills became mountains, and I was frequently punished for simply expressing disagreement. I looked forward to anything that got me out of the house and away from my parents. I never felt like I could open up to them and honestly share my feelings without being criticized. I got so used to simply doing what I was told that I reached adulthood with severely stunted decision-making skills.
When I was eleven, one of my older sisters had a falling out with our mother, moved out, and left the Mormon Church. Although she eventually reconciled with the family, she never returned to the church. She married a man who is agnostic, and they are raising their own children with no particular religious emphasis.
By contrast, one of my older brothers married a devout Mormon. They are raising their kids in the church with an authoritarian style that is reminiscent of, albeit gentler than, that of our parents. Strict obedience is emphasized and church rules are observed to the letter.
I've spent enough time with both families to have seen them at their worst, when the facade of "best behavior" has worn off, and both parents and kids are tired and cranky. I've also seen both families at their best, when they are having fun and enjoying each other.
According to Mormon teachings, my sister's family is missing something necessary for true happiness. They should be less loving, less happy, and less close than either my brother's family or the family of our childhood.
Even as a devout Mormon, I realized that this is not the case. Instead, the result is exactly the opposite:
My brother and his wife have replicated the stern home environment in which we were raised. His home is not a happy or comfortable place to be. Instead, it is hectic and contentious. Molehills become mountains, and he often punishes his kids simply for expressing disagreement. I love and respect my brother, but I would not want to live in his house or have him as my parent.
My sister's home is one of my favorite places to visit. She and her husband treat their children with respect, encouraging them to think and form their own opinions. They also allow the kids far more decision-making latitude than we ever had, which seems to result in desirable behavior more often than not, and teaches good decision-making skills and understanding of consequences. They are not burdened by having to enforce extra rules imposed by a church. I am constantly impressed by the maturity, stability, and thoughtfulness of my sister's kids, and by the atmosphere of love, respect, and fun that exists in their home.
Cognitive dissonance is what happens in your mind when reality doesn't align neatly with your worldview. To resolve the dissonance, you have to either somehow rationalize and distort your perception of the world, or you have to modify your worldview to harmonize with reality. Over a period of several years, cognitive dissonance from this and other factors compelled me to question and modify my worldview, which eventually resulted in my leaving the Mormon Church.
Phrases like, "They're not really happy- they just think they are," are thought-stoppers- ways for devout Mormons to rationalize away their cognitive dissonance without really addressing the issue. Protestations of happiness are a consistent theme of Mormonism, emphasized in sermons, lessons, scriptures, and conversations, and are intended to convince Mormons that Mormonism makes them happier than their non-believing friends, family members, neighbors, and coworkers.
Methinks thou protesteth too much.
My sister's family doesn't just think they're happy- they really are. Her kids are growing up with a far more pleasant childhood, better decision-making skills, and a more loving relationship between parents and children than I ever experienced. They don't need to reassure themselves or brag about their happiness- it's obvious to anyone who knows them. Nothing is missing from their lives. They don't need fairy tales, and they don't need some church taking their money and imposing arbitrary and asinine rules on them.
They are happy on their own terms. What could be better than that?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
"Feeling the Spirit" explained
Mormons place great emphasis on being guided by "the Spirit." They rely on it for major life decisions and for proving that their religion is true. I used to operate the same way, believing that certain feelings were God's way of speaking to me and verifying truth. My "testimony" was cemented by emotional experiences based around Mormon doctrine.
A few years ago, I began to deconstruct my reasons for believing. Among other things, I concluded that my "feelings of the Spirit" were nothing more than conditioned emotional responses due to creative emotional manipulation during my childhood and teenage years. Here's how the process works:
Lifelong mormons are conditioned as children to associate certain good feelings with the church. When church doctrines are taught to children in an atmosphere of comfort and love, they learn to associate those doctrines with feelings of comfort and love. Later, they are told that what they are feeling is "the Spirit" telling them that the church's teachings are true. In this way, emotional triggers are implanted so that believers feel "the Spirit" when they attend church, read the mormon scriptures, meet LDS general authorities, or see a mormon temple. Mormon teenagers are also conditioned to feel shame and guilt related to things like masturbation, premarital sex, homosexual attraction, and even sexual thoughts. Many mormon teens grow up feeling tremendous amounts of guilt over things the rest of the world considers normal.
This is similar the story of Pavlov and his dog. Pavlov conditioned the dog to associate a sound (a ringing bell) with good things (food). Eventually, the dog learned to salivate at the sound of a bell, even without food being present.
Mormon missionaries attempt to replicate this conditioning process when teaching prospective converts, or "investigators." The missionaries attempt to establish rapport with prospective converts and steer the conversation toward topics that trigger feelings of comfort, love, and trust. They try to maintain these feelings and bring them to the attention of the investigator. Once a prospective convert acknowledges the he or she feels peace, or love, or one of a myriad of other pleasant emotions, the missionaries will announce, "What you are feeling right now is the Holy Spirit testifying that our message is true." Everything the missionaries do is designed to elicit pleasant feelings and condition the investigator to associate those feelings with the Mormon Church. Over time, new converts are also conditioned to feel guilt over unapproved pleasures.
Don't be intimidated when a mormon claims to "know" that their religion is true. They don't know any better than you do. They are just suffering from the delusion that their emotional experiences are the voice of God.
A few years ago, I began to deconstruct my reasons for believing. Among other things, I concluded that my "feelings of the Spirit" were nothing more than conditioned emotional responses due to creative emotional manipulation during my childhood and teenage years. Here's how the process works:
Lifelong mormons are conditioned as children to associate certain good feelings with the church. When church doctrines are taught to children in an atmosphere of comfort and love, they learn to associate those doctrines with feelings of comfort and love. Later, they are told that what they are feeling is "the Spirit" telling them that the church's teachings are true. In this way, emotional triggers are implanted so that believers feel "the Spirit" when they attend church, read the mormon scriptures, meet LDS general authorities, or see a mormon temple. Mormon teenagers are also conditioned to feel shame and guilt related to things like masturbation, premarital sex, homosexual attraction, and even sexual thoughts. Many mormon teens grow up feeling tremendous amounts of guilt over things the rest of the world considers normal.
This is similar the story of Pavlov and his dog. Pavlov conditioned the dog to associate a sound (a ringing bell) with good things (food). Eventually, the dog learned to salivate at the sound of a bell, even without food being present.
Mormon missionaries attempt to replicate this conditioning process when teaching prospective converts, or "investigators." The missionaries attempt to establish rapport with prospective converts and steer the conversation toward topics that trigger feelings of comfort, love, and trust. They try to maintain these feelings and bring them to the attention of the investigator. Once a prospective convert acknowledges the he or she feels peace, or love, or one of a myriad of other pleasant emotions, the missionaries will announce, "What you are feeling right now is the Holy Spirit testifying that our message is true." Everything the missionaries do is designed to elicit pleasant feelings and condition the investigator to associate those feelings with the Mormon Church. Over time, new converts are also conditioned to feel guilt over unapproved pleasures.
Don't be intimidated when a mormon claims to "know" that their religion is true. They don't know any better than you do. They are just suffering from the delusion that their emotional experiences are the voice of God.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Mormon attitudes toward service
Here are a couple of eye-opening experiences I had as an active believing mormon. Neither of these caused me to question my beliefs at the time, but they made an impression on me and caused me to think seriously about some of my assumptions.
Story #1: The Good Samaritan
A few years ago, I helped my parents move from the east coast to a small, mostly mormon town in Utah.
As we unloaded the rented moving truck, the next door neighbor came over wearing a wife-beater and daisy-dukes (obviously not a garment wearer), introduced himself, and helped us unload. At one point he mentioned to my parents that he was LDS but doesn't go to church anymore.
It took four or five hours to unload the truck and get everything haphazardly piled approximately where it belonged. The temperature was pushing 100 degrees (late August in Utah), and it wasn't pleasant work. The inactive neighbor stuck with us the whole time until the truck was empty.
The entire time, a steady trickle of picture-perfect mormon neighbor families strolled by to get a look at the new family. Most of them stopped and chatted for a few minutes, several made sure my parents knew about a ward activity that was coming up that weekend.
None of the active mormons offered to help.
Now mind you, I don't believe anyone in that neighborhood had any obligation to help us unload. We certainly would have welcomed more help, but we didn't feel entitled. We were fully prepared to do it all ourselves.
It's just interesting to me that out of several dozen able-bodied people who strolled by, only the unworthy inactive volunteered to pitch in and work alongside.
Story #2: Service Projects For The Wealthy
My east coast ward included a certain lawyer, who had done very well for himself, as lawyers often do, and owned a large piece of waterfront property. He had a large and beautiful house, and a yacht moored out back. He was a generous man in many ways, but he also had some typical mormon blind spots and an arrogant manner about certain things. He once refused to sign a girl's temple recommend because she wasn't interested in attending the monthly singles dances.
This lawyer was, at one point, a counselor in the stake presidency, and somehow ended up closely involved with the youth and "young single adults" or "YSA's". I'm not sure if this was at the church's request or on his own initiative, but the lawyer built a guest house on his property, complete with separate wings for boys and girls, partly so he could have the youth and YSA's stay overnight.
As a YSA, I was once invited to one of these sleepovers. We weren't told much, except that there would be meals served, a fireside Friday night, and a service project Saturday morning. The Friday activity was actually kind of fun and I had a good time.
Saturday morning, we woke up early and found out that our "service project" would be helping the lawyer's wife with yardwork. She had specific tasks mapped out, and we had to finish them by a certain time so she could go shopping.
I felt extremely irritated for a couple of reasons:
Being young and naive, I ended up keeping my mouth shut and doing the work, but I resented every moment of it and never entirely trusted the guy after that. Since then I've developed some boundaries. No one gets free labor from me unless they are either close friends or family, or it's a genuine humanitarian project.
Story #1: The Good Samaritan
A few years ago, I helped my parents move from the east coast to a small, mostly mormon town in Utah.
As we unloaded the rented moving truck, the next door neighbor came over wearing a wife-beater and daisy-dukes (obviously not a garment wearer), introduced himself, and helped us unload. At one point he mentioned to my parents that he was LDS but doesn't go to church anymore.
It took four or five hours to unload the truck and get everything haphazardly piled approximately where it belonged. The temperature was pushing 100 degrees (late August in Utah), and it wasn't pleasant work. The inactive neighbor stuck with us the whole time until the truck was empty.
The entire time, a steady trickle of picture-perfect mormon neighbor families strolled by to get a look at the new family. Most of them stopped and chatted for a few minutes, several made sure my parents knew about a ward activity that was coming up that weekend.
None of the active mormons offered to help.
Now mind you, I don't believe anyone in that neighborhood had any obligation to help us unload. We certainly would have welcomed more help, but we didn't feel entitled. We were fully prepared to do it all ourselves.
It's just interesting to me that out of several dozen able-bodied people who strolled by, only the unworthy inactive volunteered to pitch in and work alongside.
Story #2: Service Projects For The Wealthy
My east coast ward included a certain lawyer, who had done very well for himself, as lawyers often do, and owned a large piece of waterfront property. He had a large and beautiful house, and a yacht moored out back. He was a generous man in many ways, but he also had some typical mormon blind spots and an arrogant manner about certain things. He once refused to sign a girl's temple recommend because she wasn't interested in attending the monthly singles dances.
This lawyer was, at one point, a counselor in the stake presidency, and somehow ended up closely involved with the youth and "young single adults" or "YSA's". I'm not sure if this was at the church's request or on his own initiative, but the lawyer built a guest house on his property, complete with separate wings for boys and girls, partly so he could have the youth and YSA's stay overnight.
As a YSA, I was once invited to one of these sleepovers. We weren't told much, except that there would be meals served, a fireside Friday night, and a service project Saturday morning. The Friday activity was actually kind of fun and I had a good time.
Saturday morning, we woke up early and found out that our "service project" would be helping the lawyer's wife with yardwork. She had specific tasks mapped out, and we had to finish them by a certain time so she could go shopping.
I felt extremely irritated for a couple of reasons:
- This was a guy who could easily afford to have professionals maintain his yard, and often did. As a service project, this was absolutely meaningless. I've helped out at a food bank and a soup kitchen, stacked sandbags to protect an elderly woman's house from flooding during a storm, and volunteered at a school to help kids learn to read. That's service. Doing free yardwork for an able-bodied and financially stable family is just exploitation. At least that's what it felt like at the time.
- Mainly, I was frustrated because I felt like the lawyer wasn't honest about it. If he had said, "Come help me with my yard and I'll feed you dinner and we'll hang out," I could have made an informed decision whether or not to go. Instead, he lured us in with food and a fun activity, and then sprung the trap after creating a feeling of obligation. The unspoken vibe Saturday morning was that we owed him our labor because he had done nice things for us.
Being young and naive, I ended up keeping my mouth shut and doing the work, but I resented every moment of it and never entirely trusted the guy after that. Since then I've developed some boundaries. No one gets free labor from me unless they are either close friends or family, or it's a genuine humanitarian project.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Mormon Conformity
The Mormon Church encourages conformity. Everyone is encouraged to think, dress, groom, and act the same way. Individuality is discouraged, and those who wear too many earrings, or whose opinions may be a bit unorthodox, are often looked down upon and even punished. Mormons who fit this pattern of homogeneity are often referred to as "clones" or "morgbots" by ex-mormons.
I grew up in a ward on the east coast in which most of the members were converts and still retained much of their individuality. My Priests Quorum advisor was a construction manager who used to tell stories of barfights and pranks during his wild and woolly days and
laugh his ass off at our dirty jokes. I haven't seen him for years, but I still think he's one of the coolest people I've ever known. He was genuinely caring, and very tolerant compared to Corridor Mormons.
During my mission, I noticed that all missionaries tend to sound alike. That was partially due to the fact that we taught standardized lessons almost word for word. We didn't just teach the same things though- we used the same words, the same vocal inflections, and the same false humility that we learned from each other. I even caught myself dumbing down my speaking style to be more like the "aw-shucks" Utah and Idaho farm boys I served with. This excessive homogeneity got on my nerves a bit, but I figured it was just the mission environment and that we would all get our personalities back after the mission.
Post-mission, I moved to Utah and attended BYU. There, I noticed that the sameness persists among most returned missionaries. I found this especially annoying among the returned sisters. Far too many of them always sounded like they were talking to 3 year olds. Even as an active believing mormon, I never wanted to marry a girl who had served a mission, because they were all so damn annoying.
In BYU wards, I started to notice how everyone who gave a talk or lesson tried to sound like general authorities, but most of them weren't articulate enough to pull it off, and their effort made them look pretentious and stupid. I loved it when these guys would try to gratuitously use 50 dollar words, but would either use them incorrectly or end up using a word that sounded kind of like the word they meant to use. ("Expand the scriptures" instead of "expound the scriptures," etc.) Very few seemed to have their own style, and very few seemed to have much of a sense of humor, at least at church.
I became the guy in the back of the room trying not to snicker when some pompous general authority-wannabe elders' quorum instructor verbally tripped over his own feet, rolling my eyes when some weepy sister recycled the same tired inspirational story yet again in her sacrament meeting talk, cringing at the uninspiring amateurism displayed in "musical" numbers, and trying like hell to keep my mouth shut when someone preached Pharisaic rules over the spirit of the law.
Eventually, I put the scriptures on my PDA, so I had an excuse to bring it to church and play Solitaire when things got boring or irritating.
Here's the ironic part: As much as I wish I had been smart enough to debunk the church before serving a mission or attending BYU, the time I spent in those environments was probably a critical part of my deconversion. If I had not spent so much time in the belly of the beast, wondering why I couldn't fit in with the clones, and why there were so damned many assinine rules to follow, I might never have thought deeply enough about my beliefs to question them.
I grew up in a ward on the east coast in which most of the members were converts and still retained much of their individuality. My Priests Quorum advisor was a construction manager who used to tell stories of barfights and pranks during his wild and woolly days and
laugh his ass off at our dirty jokes. I haven't seen him for years, but I still think he's one of the coolest people I've ever known. He was genuinely caring, and very tolerant compared to Corridor Mormons.
During my mission, I noticed that all missionaries tend to sound alike. That was partially due to the fact that we taught standardized lessons almost word for word. We didn't just teach the same things though- we used the same words, the same vocal inflections, and the same false humility that we learned from each other. I even caught myself dumbing down my speaking style to be more like the "aw-shucks" Utah and Idaho farm boys I served with. This excessive homogeneity got on my nerves a bit, but I figured it was just the mission environment and that we would all get our personalities back after the mission.
Post-mission, I moved to Utah and attended BYU. There, I noticed that the sameness persists among most returned missionaries. I found this especially annoying among the returned sisters. Far too many of them always sounded like they were talking to 3 year olds. Even as an active believing mormon, I never wanted to marry a girl who had served a mission, because they were all so damn annoying.
In BYU wards, I started to notice how everyone who gave a talk or lesson tried to sound like general authorities, but most of them weren't articulate enough to pull it off, and their effort made them look pretentious and stupid. I loved it when these guys would try to gratuitously use 50 dollar words, but would either use them incorrectly or end up using a word that sounded kind of like the word they meant to use. ("Expand the scriptures" instead of "expound the scriptures," etc.) Very few seemed to have their own style, and very few seemed to have much of a sense of humor, at least at church.
I became the guy in the back of the room trying not to snicker when some pompous general authority-wannabe elders' quorum instructor verbally tripped over his own feet, rolling my eyes when some weepy sister recycled the same tired inspirational story yet again in her sacrament meeting talk, cringing at the uninspiring amateurism displayed in "musical" numbers, and trying like hell to keep my mouth shut when someone preached Pharisaic rules over the spirit of the law.
Eventually, I put the scriptures on my PDA, so I had an excuse to bring it to church and play Solitaire when things got boring or irritating.
Here's the ironic part: As much as I wish I had been smart enough to debunk the church before serving a mission or attending BYU, the time I spent in those environments was probably a critical part of my deconversion. If I had not spent so much time in the belly of the beast, wondering why I couldn't fit in with the clones, and why there were so damned many assinine rules to follow, I might never have thought deeply enough about my beliefs to question them.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Dealing with death as an atheist
I had to deal with the death of close family members while I was young, so I've always been very conscious of death, and the idea of eternity with loved ones was quite appealing to me. It still is. I love the idea of living, learning, and hanging out forever. Sometimes I wish I could still believe in it. That was always the most meaningful aspect of Mormonism for me.
Because I no longer believe in god or the supernatural, I'm living life on the assumption that this is all there is. If I'm wrong, no one will be more pleased than me.
Not believing in an afterlife is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I often feel that life is meaningless and futile, and that nothing I do really matters in the long run. On the other hand, life has become infinitely more precious by virtue of how short and fragile it is.
The Mormon Church takes an apocalyptic view, that the world will get worse and worse until Christ returns, at which time everything will be sorted out and we will all live happily ever after. As a result, many mormons seem to take the attitude that global issues such as poverty, disease, and the environment don't matter, because this life is temporary and God will sort it all out. I no longer have the luxury of believing that. I am looking for ways for my life to be meaningful and have a lasting positive impact on the world. Doing what I can to relieve the suffering of my fellow humans has become more urgent to me than it ever was under Mormonism.
I believe there is no greater tragedy than a life in which relationships, and present enjoyment and happiness are sacrificed in the hope of a glorious afterlife that may or may not exist.
Because I no longer believe in god or the supernatural, I'm living life on the assumption that this is all there is. If I'm wrong, no one will be more pleased than me.
Not believing in an afterlife is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I often feel that life is meaningless and futile, and that nothing I do really matters in the long run. On the other hand, life has become infinitely more precious by virtue of how short and fragile it is.
The Mormon Church takes an apocalyptic view, that the world will get worse and worse until Christ returns, at which time everything will be sorted out and we will all live happily ever after. As a result, many mormons seem to take the attitude that global issues such as poverty, disease, and the environment don't matter, because this life is temporary and God will sort it all out. I no longer have the luxury of believing that. I am looking for ways for my life to be meaningful and have a lasting positive impact on the world. Doing what I can to relieve the suffering of my fellow humans has become more urgent to me than it ever was under Mormonism.
I believe there is no greater tragedy than a life in which relationships, and present enjoyment and happiness are sacrificed in the hope of a glorious afterlife that may or may not exist.
A few milestones from my journey to unbelief
I'm a frequent lurker and occasional poster over at the Recovery From Mormonism discussion boards. A few months back, someone posted the question, "What did you
hear/ learn/ experience that caused you to doubt the church?"
Here's my answer. I've expanded it a bit and changed some of the wording to make sense to a wider audience.
People don't question their religious beliefs until something penetrates their armor and gives them enough of a reason to question that they let down their guard. Evolution was the first of many little things that penetrated my armor.
Hearing my biology professors at Brigham Young University explain evolution by natural selection. This was the first time anyone I trusted had taught me that evolution is real. Anytime I heard about evolution before that, it had been presented as "just a theory," and a devilish doctrine intended to deceive the faithful.
I expected that professors at the "Lord's University" would back that up. Problem is, BYU is an accredited university, and you can't be an accredited university if you don't teach real science in your science classes. So I sat there in the Joseph F Smith auditorium with a thousand other freshmen, and listened while two card-carrying, true-believing Mormon BYU professors explained how evolution works. They even specifically addressed and refuted some of the arguments against evolution that I had grown up with.
Naturally, a lot of us raised our hands, and wanted to know how to reconcile evolution with our creationist upbringing. The professors essentially told us we would have to figure that out ourselves.
Part of the reading assignment for this biology class was a book, "Finding Darwin's God." It is written by a Catholic priest who is also a scientist and has reconciled his belief in evolution with his belief in God. I considered his arguments, and concluded that there was no way I could reconcile the reality of evolution with Mormonism's literal view of the creation story. There are too many pieces that don't fit, and I would have to choose one or the other.
At this point the lightbulb dimly flickered, but I wasn't ready to reconsider my beliefs. I was about as devout as they come, so I put my doubts on the shelf in the back of my mind and forgot about evolution for a while.
Eventually, I began to look closely at my reasons for believing. The Mormon Church teaches that everyone can have an actual revelation from God confirming that the Mormon Church is true. Everyone can "know" for his or her self, independent of any earthly witness. Sounds pretty good, right? Here's how the process works:
I concluded that claiming to "know" is invalid, because that knowledge depends on the assumption that the church is right about what our feelings mean. I realized that the Mormon claim to certain knowledge is really just another faith-based claim. When a Mormon says "I know such and such is true," he is really saying "I believe God has told me through my feelings that such and such is true." Mormons believe based on faith, just like everyone else- they just think they know. Saying, "I believe" is far more honest than saying, "I know."
I still wasn't willing to read "anti-mormon" literature, because the little bit I had been exposed to during my mission was so full of exaggerations and distortions that it had no credibility with me. Guys like Ed Decker probably ended up keeping me in the church longer by inoculating me against "anti-mormon" arguments. I just figured all anti-mormons were liars, and even the legitimate arguments couldn't get through to me because of that.
Eventually I happened upon "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. I know his belligerent style is off-putting for many people, but much of what he said resonated with me. Dawkins is a biologist, and he does a fantastic job of explaining evolution and scientific theories regarding the origins of life. He also spends a chapter discussing the probability of God's existence. The last tattered shreds of my belief in God evaporated as I read "The God Delusion." Since religion is pointless without something to worship, my belief in the Mormon Church naturally followed.
I'm now an atheist. I do not believe in a supreme being, or an afterlife. I think that man creates god(s) in his image, and religion as a means of controlling people and taking their money.
If there is a supreme being, he, she, or it is quite welcome to bring that to my attention at any time.
hear/ learn/ experience that caused you to doubt the church?"
Here's my answer. I've expanded it a bit and changed some of the wording to make sense to a wider audience.
People don't question their religious beliefs until something penetrates their armor and gives them enough of a reason to question that they let down their guard. Evolution was the first of many little things that penetrated my armor.
Hearing my biology professors at Brigham Young University explain evolution by natural selection. This was the first time anyone I trusted had taught me that evolution is real. Anytime I heard about evolution before that, it had been presented as "just a theory," and a devilish doctrine intended to deceive the faithful.
I expected that professors at the "Lord's University" would back that up. Problem is, BYU is an accredited university, and you can't be an accredited university if you don't teach real science in your science classes. So I sat there in the Joseph F Smith auditorium with a thousand other freshmen, and listened while two card-carrying, true-believing Mormon BYU professors explained how evolution works. They even specifically addressed and refuted some of the arguments against evolution that I had grown up with.
Naturally, a lot of us raised our hands, and wanted to know how to reconcile evolution with our creationist upbringing. The professors essentially told us we would have to figure that out ourselves.
Part of the reading assignment for this biology class was a book, "Finding Darwin's God." It is written by a Catholic priest who is also a scientist and has reconciled his belief in evolution with his belief in God. I considered his arguments, and concluded that there was no way I could reconcile the reality of evolution with Mormonism's literal view of the creation story. There are too many pieces that don't fit, and I would have to choose one or the other.
At this point the lightbulb dimly flickered, but I wasn't ready to reconsider my beliefs. I was about as devout as they come, so I put my doubts on the shelf in the back of my mind and forgot about evolution for a while.
Eventually, I began to look closely at my reasons for believing. The Mormon Church teaches that everyone can have an actual revelation from God confirming that the Mormon Church is true. Everyone can "know" for his or her self, independent of any earthly witness. Sounds pretty good, right? Here's how the process works:
- I was taught that the Mormon Church was God's only true church on earth.
- I was taught that I should pray and ask God to confirm to me that what the church taught was true.
- I was taught that God would answer my prayer through my feelings. Certain feelings, such as peace, or a "burning in the bosom," were supposed to be a revelation from God indicating that the church was true. At this point, I would "know" and could testify that I "knew" the church was true.
- I was also taught that the process sometimes takes a while. Answers don't come instantly, and they are different for everyone. I was taught that I had to learn to recognize how God spoke to me.
- I was taught that Satan sometimes imitates the "feelings of the Spirit" and would try to deceive me. I was told that I had to learn to distinguish "promptings of the Spirit" from "promptings of Satan." The way to tell the difference was that if I felt "prompted" to do something contrary to the teachings of the Mormon Church, then it was of Satan. If I felt "prompted" to do something that was in line with the teachings of the Mormon church, then it was of God.
- I was forbidden to study any alternative points of view, including reading so-called "anti-mormon literature." I was told that "anti-mormon literature" was "spiritual pornography" and would "drive away the Spirit" and put me in Satan's power.
I concluded that claiming to "know" is invalid, because that knowledge depends on the assumption that the church is right about what our feelings mean. I realized that the Mormon claim to certain knowledge is really just another faith-based claim. When a Mormon says "I know such and such is true," he is really saying "I believe God has told me through my feelings that such and such is true." Mormons believe based on faith, just like everyone else- they just think they know. Saying, "I believe" is far more honest than saying, "I know."
I still wasn't willing to read "anti-mormon" literature, because the little bit I had been exposed to during my mission was so full of exaggerations and distortions that it had no credibility with me. Guys like Ed Decker probably ended up keeping me in the church longer by inoculating me against "anti-mormon" arguments. I just figured all anti-mormons were liars, and even the legitimate arguments couldn't get through to me because of that.
Eventually I happened upon "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. I know his belligerent style is off-putting for many people, but much of what he said resonated with me. Dawkins is a biologist, and he does a fantastic job of explaining evolution and scientific theories regarding the origins of life. He also spends a chapter discussing the probability of God's existence. The last tattered shreds of my belief in God evaporated as I read "The God Delusion." Since religion is pointless without something to worship, my belief in the Mormon Church naturally followed.
I'm now an atheist. I do not believe in a supreme being, or an afterlife. I think that man creates god(s) in his image, and religion as a means of controlling people and taking their money.
If there is a supreme being, he, she, or it is quite welcome to bring that to my attention at any time.
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