[For context, "Mom" is referring to Wendy.]
Let’s talk about religion for a minute, something that has been a big issue throughout our family on both Mom’s and my sides.
From the time we started dating, Mom and I have both agreed to let our kids have religious freedom. That is, we don’t expect you to accept whatever religion we’re practicing without some deep thought and personal introspection. That may be somewhat difficult to do when you’re a young sprout, and that’s fine - I accept that. But, I wouldn’t want you to be a lemming and blindly go forth because you’re thinking that’s what would make your parents happy. That’s not the case at all. As your parents, we’re big believers in personal choice. While we may be somewhat practicing Mormons, there’s no reason whatsoever that you should be unless you really feel that’s your path.
We both had experiences with religion being thrust upon us during our lives. It made both of us a little bitter to the point of not being active for several years, and there’s no way we’d wish the same thing on you. My mother did the same thing with religion that she did with education: no real motivation. Basically, “you’re on your own, I have other things to take care of!” I had to find my own way, which led to me visiting several different churches during my teen years and eventually landing on my harsh anti-church stance circa 17. I went from ultra religious to agnostic - today I’m happy to report that I’m now somewhere in between, a self proclaimed “man of science.”
Where my mother let up and didn’t force me after a while, Mom’s family was the opposite: nobody in the family was going to hell on her mom’s watch, so unless you were on your death bed, you were sitting on a pew every Sunday hearing the good word. That’s all fine and dandy, but the principles of the LDS church and Mormonism in general are based on search, ponder, and pray. A man or woman should be given the ability to find their own path in life - ie: what’s right for them - rather than having it thrust upon them. For Mom, she felt like that’s what her parents did her entire life. Eventually, it led to a universal religious breakdown which kept her out of a church, synagogue, temple, meeting house, revival tent, and pretty much every religious establishment ever conducted for several years.
I, on the other hand, found myself left to my own devices. There were several things about the Mormons that I didn’t agree with, most of which were developed out of nothing more than my rebelling against being controlled. I despised the fact that I was being forced to do something that I really didn’t want to do every Sunday; part of me was really digging in about it. I hit a phase where I wanted nothing to do with organized religion at all; I didn’t need God, and he didn’t need me. He’d never appeared to me in any shape or form, and there was no evidence that he existed at all. This was, as far as I was concerned, nothing more than a bedtime story that needed to be told to someone else.
At the time, I was also taking into consideration what I was seeing happen with my own mother, and how she was abruptly and without any kind of warning so intensely gung-ho about the Mormon church. Suddenly, religion could fix anything. God could solve all her problems. If there was an issue that needed fixing, you were supposed to pray about it and that’d make it all better. Religion became her go-to solution about everything, and her dedication to it so quickly was making me incredibly uncomfortable. Mom and I both saw what was happening, and to be straight with you, it pushed us away from the church more than it drew us in.
God and the sanctity thereof has always been a huge unspoken issue around Mom’s family. Hypocrisy based on religious ideals is a common theme that runs through Mom’s family, and unfortunately kiddo, it’s something that’s pretty thick around Utah. Whether you like it or not, you become defined by your religion, or lack thereof, becoming more of a “barcode” than a person.
It sucks.
Thanks to my mother, I had issues with the church as I grew up. It’s because of that very reason, I wasn’t active when Mom and I started dating. It became a huge, huge issue between me and her family. It drove Grandma Jill bananas that I wasn’t an active Mormon, and for several weeks of Mom and I dating, I didn’t tell Grandma Jill or Grandpa Ken what religion I was (I think I said I was “spiritually curious” - that sounds like something I’d say). As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t anyone’s business but my own, and had no interest at all in sharing it with them. It wasn’t until I finally got enough pressure from Grandma Jill and Mom’s sister Heidi that I finally gave in and told them my history, albeit brief, with the LDS church. I figured coming clean, so to speak, would calm them down.
I’ve been wrong before, but not that wrong.
Grandma Jill made it her personal mission to make sure I was attending church every Sunday, even though I was making it very clear that it wasn’t something I was interested in at the time. Mom was feeling the same way - she loved me for who I was, not what religion I was. This inconsequential matter of me not being a good little Mormon didn’t mean a thing to her. She liked me for me. Neither of us could place why her mother and her sister were so adamant that I once again give church a go. It wasn’t high on my list of priorities.
At one point, Grandma Jill and Heidi bought me a shirt: a black Cabana-style shirt - I don’t dig the white shirt and tie bit, never have - that Mom adored (“Does that mean I get to call you my Cabana Boy?”). I felt obligated to follow them on Sunday because of it. My first Sunday with them was testimony meeting, and Grandma Jill decided that she was going to show me how it was done. She got up, bore her testimony, and somehow.. That was supposed to be inspiring. Which it might have been, had my heart actually been in it. It wasn’t.
I was there because I felt obligated, not because I wanted to be there. I was there because I knew it made Mom happy on some level. She was raised in a home where they believe in marrying a good Mormon boy, spitting out 2.5 kids, and living in a house with the white picket fence. That’s the fantasy that she bought into early on, and it was supposed to be how our relationship was going to be. For self-evident reasons, that was never how our relationship was going to be. I knew Mom wanted me there, and that’s what I tried to do. 3 hours of church on a Sunday seemed like a lot to me (it still does, actually), and there was more than one occasion where they were nudging me in Priesthood meeting because I fell asleep and started snoring. It didn’t grip me. I didn’t want to be there for me, I wanted to be there for Mom. Considering the attitude I went into it with, I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did. Which, ironically, was when Mom ended up in Reno. With her not going to church there, I decided I didn’t want to be there either.
Sundays became a visiting time for the pair of us. Mom would come over, and we’d play games, play with the kids, or go for a walk somewhere. Our relationship began to grow, and Mom wanted to spend more time with me on Sundays than she did at church. I was the great excuse for her not to be there. When she moved in with me, we both stopped going altogether, with the exception of the occasional Sunday when something important was happening.
It wasn’t until I sat and had a long heart to heart talk with Heidi that I got my head together. She told me that if I really loved Mom, I should be thinking about her happiness. To Mom, being married eternally in an LDS temple was a lifelong dream of hers, and Heidi was telling me I needed to consider that. “I’m not asking you to change your beliefs,” she said, “but consider it. I’ve been pretty happy in the church, and so has Wendy. She’d be thrilled if you married her in the temple.” (Ten years later, Heidi would abandon the church altogether and move in with her boyfriend, leaving this moment glistening with disturbing irony. But that’s another chapter entirely.)
That was the pivotal moment that got the ball rolling. Two days later, I promised Mom I was going to give her everything she ever wanted, but cautioned her that it was going to take some time. It was never something we ever told anyone, because religion has always been a personal thing to us, but it was a goal we began to work towards in small increments.
When Mom moved in with me, we began to talk in great depth about baggage she’d never thought of before. We discussed life in the church meticulously, covering everything from the primary beginnings to where we were now. Mom realized that she’d spent a lot of her life being what I refer to as a Religious Zealot, ie: someone who’s fanatical and whole-heartedly devoted to something they don’t necessarily completely understand. That was the case with Mom, and shooting from the hip on this one, I believe that’s the case with the majority of people around here: they’re raised in the church, but never stop to ask the big questions.
Remember, if you will, that the basis for the Mormon religion is search, ponder, and pray. These are the beliefs that every LDS member is asked to abide by. When Mom and I did it, we found a few answers that some of the locals we talked to found kind of scary. We don’t have a problem addressing the truth as we see it with others, but that’s the key: everything’s relative, especially when it comes to religion. What holds true for you may not necessarily be the same bag for me. My generation sees things differently than yours will, and it’s almost a guarantee that you’ll interpret things differently than me and not necessarily end up in the same headspace I and your Mom are religiously.
That’s okay.
As your parents, we’re going to try and be as open and honest with you as we can. There may be some questions we don’t have answers to; there may be some that confuse us. There may even be some we don’t necessarily want to answer, but know that as our kid, we’re going to do what we can to help you along, no matter what your endgame is on this. Religion’s a touchy subject, and goes on a case by case basis for each person individually.
For me especially, having somebody intrude on something as personal as religion for me tends to be a little offensive. I don’t care to be branded by a label. I’m me, and I’m defined by who I am, not what religion I am, not my skin color, and certainly not whether or not I hold a certain office in the church. Unfortunately, you’ll understand more of what that means as you get older. I can’t really explain it to you, it has to be experienced. We’ll be here for you when the questions come up, and yes, they will. If they don’t, there’s going to be something wrong.
I’m not saying I don’t want you to become a member of the LDS church, but I’m not saying I want you to, either. You’re an individual with a mind of your own. I want you to do what you feel is right for yourself, and if that means Jewish, agnostic, athiest, Catholic, or the Church Of The Subgenius, it’s important for you to make your own decisions spiritually and decide what’s right for you. I would, however, advise you to avoid Scientology. They’re a bunch of burnt out 40 watt bulbs.
Several years later, we’d have an experience with Mom’s sister Heidi that would remind us of the goal we set several years prior. For whatever reason, the time felt right, and we started down the road towards being full fledged members of the Mormon church. Mom was pretty much already there; I had a long way to go.
My original intentions with getting back into the church had everything to do with Mom. She was raised that the way to a happy life is by marrying a good Mormon boy (strike one), living your life in accordance with the gospel (strike two), and getting married in the temple (strike three - Mom and I were married civilly). It didn’t hit me until earlier this year how much that meant to her. Once I’d made that realization, there was no question that I wanted to do this for her. What I wasn’t expecting is what the end result would produce.
While it may look like we have the perfect relationship, Mom and I have both had our issues. We’ve had several fights that have almost led to divorce, we’ve yelled at each other, you know - things most normal couples do when they’re a part of a happy dysfunctional family. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve taken a different view on life lately, or if having this religious influence does change things. It could be a strange set of coincidences, but ever since we started back on the religious road, things between us have been very calm and seemingly quiet. We get along better now than we have in years. We don’t fight anymore, and every little thing seems to be just that: some silly little contrivance that gets in the way. It’s a bug that we flick away with our fingers.
Did getting back into the church do that? I’m not necessarily sure. Mom says it’s definitely a part of it. It’s certainly something that’s changed this past while, because we didn’t used to get along this way. Everything was an issue, everything led to some sort of argument, and everything was a big problem that needed to be sorted out in some melodramatic fashion. That pretty much dropped off a few months ago. I can’t tell you that re-introducing organized religion into our lives is what changed the game, but it certainly isn’t hurting anything. We have a common goal to shoot for, and conveniently, the way we live our lives mostly aligns with how the church recommends that a church member should live. Mostly, mind you.
I had to come to my own conclusions about the church over the course of many, many years, and to some extent, I’m still forging opinions based on what’s happening on a daily basis. I don’t follow the church unquestionably, not by any means. There are several stances that the LDS church takes right now that I have no problem openly disagreeing with - but it comes down to the church being taught in a general aspect.
It works out like this: at last count, the church had 15,082,028 members. There’s no possible way that any religion, or any one set of instructions for anything anywhere, could be speaking directly to each person individually. That’s why when they have conference, it’s called general confrence, not straight-to-you-by-name conference. With that many members, it’s impossible to address someone directly - no matter what their stance on it is, it’s subject to your interpretation.
And therein lies the answer.
Religion, as we see it, becomes interpreted by man. Man is fallible. These are two very strong issues that have always been at the forefront of my mind. There’s a lot of stuff in the Bible that seems pretty far fetched: Noah herding a bunch of animals onto a large wooden boat, Lot and God (Lot in general really), Moses parting the red sea, or even going all the way back to Adam and Eve and the talking snake that convinced Eve to eat the apple. It gets even better when you dig through the Book Of Mormon: the book being translated via aid of the Seer Stone and a hat, or several edicts being issued by God, and God asking people to violate them several times over. The million dollar question: do I believe that these things happened?
Sort of.
My feeling on it is this: because man is fallible and religion is subject to interpretation, it’s entirely possible that some of these stories have been embellished substantially going from person to person. As a society, we like to make things sound grander than they are (ask a fisherman about how big his fish was, that guppie’ll get bigger every time he tells the story), and I’m not exactly sure why that is. We’re wired to make things bigger, perhaps to entertain ourselves, to entertain others, or to keep ourselves out of trouble. Either way, things aren’t always what they seem when it comes to relaying information.
Now, the church preaches that these things are the word of God, beliefs we hold self-evident. That’s all fine and dandy, but taken at face value without any sort of thought, these pieces of literary delirium seem crazy enough to institutionalize someone on. I don’t necessarily think these events happened as they’re detailed in the scriptures inasmuch as I think they’re there to help us see things as we need to see them. It’s hard to put into words.
Take a Rorschach Test (Inkblot Test), for instance. No matter what, no two people will see the exact same image because our minds process the information differently. Identical twins, raised in the same environment with the same beliefs, will not see the same picture. I see religion, no matter what faith you belong to, as the same ball of wax: you can give the same people the same set of scriptures, and everybody will take something differently from it. In short, I don’t necessarily believe that these stories didn’t happen, I’m saying that it’s entirely possible that instead of a 50 foot woman, she may have only been 7 feet tall until the newspaper editor got a hold of the byline. That doesn’t affect my belief in God, the hereafter, heaven and hell, and all that by a long shot - I’m simply saying that it’s entirely possible that these historical affairs may not have happened exactly as someone wrote them down.
There’s three possibilities:
1) They happened exactly as they say in the Bible and the Book Of Mormon, as most religions are taught to believe. If that’s the case, Mormons really do have it 100% right, and everybody else is getting flushed down the can when The Rapture finally hits. As a self proclaimed Man Of Science, I’m always interested in reading about factual evidence that states that these incidents may have actually happened. I’m a sucker for evidence.
2) They happened, but by the time they put ink to paper, fish storied their way out of proportion. This is more or less the theory I subscribe to unless I have evidence to prove otherwise.For me, it’s completely plausible that Moses didn’t part an entire sea, but instead found a shallow section near the river where everybody did their whole Mexico border crossing bit.
3) It’s a bunch of borscht, and we’re all products of evolution. This too could also be the case, although I tend to buy into this more as a combination with #2. I’m one of those people who believe that multiple options could be the way: who says we can’t be products of evolution from an overseeing superior being? It’s completely conceivable that the greatest indication that God exists is that he’s not trying to interfere directly with our lives.
I seek fact wherever I can, but the extensive lacuna in that premise is that religion is based on faith. It’s based on a belief in a power mightier and more knowledgeable than us, which isn’t too far off for me. My beliefs tend to be pretty simple: as long as you do your best to lead a good life and treat others as you’d want to be treated, we can all co-exist on this heavenly spaceship soaring through the galaxy at 67,000 miles an hour. I don’t think we need organized religion to tell us to be good to other people, but it helps as a reminder.
Amazingly, my beliefs aren’t compromised by getting back into the Mormon church with Mom. If anything, they’ve been made stronger. I’m not going to say that I automatically agree with everything the LDS faith teaches - I’m strongly against their stance on gay marriage, I’m not too keen on their stance on blacks holding the priesthood until the 70s, and I have some difficulty chunking down the large amount of hypocrisy from some of the church members who have their noses in the air - but in general, I think the church offers some solid principles that give you a good baseline for how you live your life. Qualify that: baseline.
As with everything else in life, this is one of those important messages that you take with you to heart and do what you will with it. I don’t believe that religion, any religion, should be taken within its literary meaning. My views are that, if we were to all do that, there’d be more chaos on this earth than there already is, and nobody’d be around to tell the tale. It’d be biblically bad. As Mormons, we’re encouraged and instructed to search out answers, ponder them to make sure they’re right, and pray about them to be able to hold steadfast in our ideals.
And that’s another thing.
I’m not big into using the word “beliefs,” even though I think I’ve already used it a few times on these pages. I’ve never thought of it in terms of a belief, because a belief is something that makes you strap a bunch of bombs to your chest and run into a diner blowing up innocent people of a different faith thinking you’re going to get a bunch of virgins. An idea is something that can be altered quite easily without a whole lot of static.
When someone believes something, they usually believe it unquestionably and, sadly, sometimes blindly. There’s no negotiating with someone who has a belief in something (in most cases). They’re set in their ways, and those beliefs will not be questioned. If you start asking them deep questions, they get angry or annoyed, and flat out stop discussing it with you. This very scenario has happened to me on more than one occasion. As intellectuals, we’re not open to changing our beliefs.
An idea, on the other hand, is supposed to be challenged. By its very nature, an idea indicates an incomplete thought, or to word it better, an underdeveloped thought. An idea is something that can be mulled over time and time again, and it’s a bit of ourselves that we have no problems adjusting, whereas a belief is, well, a hell of a lot more of a sticky situation.
As far as I’m concerned, for someone to say they have a belief in something, it’s an unwavering, strong-armed dedication to whatever it is they’re referencing. Good on them, but I’ve always been wary of people who are 100% committed to something without leaving any room for doubt, especially when it comes to religion. Faith is something that should be constantly tested, not something that we adapt to and confirm as a legitimate way of life. It’s something that we should always be trying to stretch and experiment with to deepen our ideals on the matter. We should be researching every bit of it as much as we can to get the clearer picture, and making sure that we refine that idea every time we get the opportunity.
I can say without fear that Mom and I don’t exactly believe like the others, but we have a pretty good idea. It’s getting better every day. This is a philosophy I’ve spent the better part of my life refining, and every day I go into it trying to explore the idea just a little bit more. Writing this entry into this book for you has sparked several interests into religious areas I wouldn’t have explored otherwise. Thanks to you, I’ve had the opportunity to study them - it’s also opened up a dialogue with other people I know, Mom included, going over some of the church history and the general idea behind some of it. It’s always good to keep yourself thinking about what it is you truly adhere to, and the idea must continue to be refined at every opportunity.
But that’s me. Those are my ideals, and they’ve come from years and years of intricate personal thought and self discovery. I don’t know how it’s going to come out with you, but I do know that Mom and I are here to listen to any questions you may have. It’s a tough road to go down.
When I first began writing this chapter, I had no idea the magnitude of emotion it’d bring up. Religion has always been a touchy subject, but as I began to write these pages for you to read, I’m realizing that it’s a lot more personal than I’ve ever considered it to be. I’m not going to lie to you and say this has been all gravy - putting some of this here has opened some wounds that I was never able to heal in the past. Revisiting them because of this book has helped me sort quite a few of these emotional problems out.
Now that Mom knows about the book (she didn’t for a few weeks when I started writing it), I’ve been talking with her openly about what I’ve been writing about and what it’s bringing to the surface. One of the biggest points in all of this has been anger. Buckets and truckloads of anger. It didn’t strike me as something I’d be angry about, but allegedly I’m pretty pissed off about some of my religious upbringing and what being back on the “road to salvation” has brought up.
Such as, once again, Mom’s family.
When we first began dating, I promised Mom that if she really wanted to be married in an LDS temple, that I’d do what I could to make that happen. This wasn’t something we made public knowledge: it was a private pact between the two of us and nobody else. We kept living our lives the way we wanted, but to her family, because I wasn’t an active Mormon, I was nothing short of evil; practically a pariah. I shrugged it off for several years, not thinking about it. It became a non-issue as Mom and I had to work through our daily lives and the (many) eventful days that would follow us around. Church took a back seat. We both had an idea - we believe in a higher power, God or otherwise, some sort of spiritual being helping us through our daily lives - but the concept of spending 3 hours in church was not something we were ready for. To be honest, we both still have some difficulty sitting through it. We get fidgety towards the end of sacrament and find ourselves pacing the halls until second hour starts. It made for an interesting explanation for the Bishop - he thought we went home or something to that effect. Not quite.
I was just fine being a social leper from Mom’s family for a while. We had several matters to attend to that were best handled without interference from them (I don’t know that I could have handled the DCFS scenario with Grandma Jill’s involvement). It had nothing to do with whether or not we were good people. It’s not as if we suddenly became Satanists or started hacking hobos up randomly - our seemingly self imposed exile had to do with us not openly and publicly practicing Mormonism. Mom still talked to her family, but there was still the occasional “when are you getting married in the temple?” sort of jab from just about everyone. Some of Mom’s extended family got extremely snobby with us, stuck their pointed little beaks in the air, and developed a “holier than thou” attitude towards us - it wasn’t just Mom’s immediate family, this kind of ruptured through her entire family.
My religion was a gargantuan issue when we started to date, and when Mom and I went about our business differently from everyone else, it deepened the already starting to hemorrhage problem. When we got back into the church, suddenly people we hadn’t associated with in years were coming out of the woodwork and saying “Good for you; good job.”
This defines one of my biggest issues with organized religion.
A person shouldn’t be defined by who they worship. I feel like Mom’s family has done that to me several times throughout the years. Now that I’m a “member of the club,” all of a sudden I’m a cool kid again. It feels like I’m back in high school, desperately trying to become one with the pack. It shouldn’t be that way, and yet, it was. Or at least that’s how it came across.
In the months before I was ordained, or before we had even announced our temple intentions to anyone outside of ourselves, Grandma Jill didn’t so much as say “boo” to us. There was almost no interaction to speak of. Before that, Mom couldn’t peel her off - texts, Facebook, random phone calls at 9 at night. Once we told them what we were gunning for, suddenly I was Mom’s family’s new golden child.
Your basis for how you interact with someone shouldn’t have prejudiced bases. If I only teach you one thing in your entire life of any value, it’s don’t be prejudiced. That includes race, religion, ethnicity, gender, any of it. We’re all God’s children, and we’re all fighting a hard battle on this journey called life. I wouldn’t want to think that for one second you’d be treating others differently than you’d want to be treated. Life life by the golden rule, kiddo: treat others as you’d want them to treat you, and you’ll have an easier life.
I’d love more than anything to tell you that this is going to be one of the easier bits to go by in your life, but I can’t say that and not be lying to you. Mom and I have spent years trying to figure this out, and every day we’re putting another piece of the puzzle together.
You’re going to have a hell of a time getting yourself sorted out, and no matter what path you choose, there’s going to be persecution that comes along with it. In our family, freedom of choice has always been something that’s incredibly important and valued. We respect your choices, even if they don’t match up with ours.
If you decide you’re an atheist, we’re okay with that. Jewish? Sure. Catholic? Of course. The only request we have for you is, should you decide to go another path that isn’t Mormon, talk to us about it. Not because we want to talk you out of it - other religions fascinate us, and we’d love to be a part of whatever religion you choose to participate in, if it’s any at all.
We want you to make your own choice on this, kiddo.
We wouldn’t have it any other way.
