As a fairly vocal dissenter of Mormon orthodoxy, I am often
troubled by just how skewed some of my friends’ and acquaintances’ perceptions
are with regard to my motivations. If you’ve chosen to leave the faith, why
can’t you just leave it alone? To a point, this is a fair question. If I’ve
determined Mormonism doesn’t line up with my beliefs, why not press forward and
focus on new endeavors? Why do people like me, a relative few of Mormonism’s
defectors, sometimes become consumed with analyzing their religious heritage?
Why do we feel the need to vocalize our position, thus becoming a disruptive
influence amongst believing friends and family? Is it merely persecution
evidencing the bitter discontentment of my sins? It is perceived by some that
instead of moving onward and upward, apostates are grasping at straws to fill
the aching chasm left in their lives by abandoning the restored gospel.
Growing up in the church, I experienced the same mild rhetorical
antagonism as most in the states. I saw people picket LDS conference events and
disseminate aggressively antagonistic tracts. There is a great deal of
confusion about these people in LDS culture. I myself participated in the
expression of disdainful sentiments towards these heretics who for whatever
illegitimate reason, couldn’t pass muster in the church and are thence promptly
taken in by Satan as he marshals his troops to fight God’s work. In the
polemical Mormon worldview, people are not fully agents in and of themselves,
they are also principles to be manipulated by powers unseen, and ultimately
subjected to a grand polarizing paradigm. Such was the framework suggested by
Mormonism’s founding prophet, Joseph Smith, Jr. Daniel Tyler, an early convert
baptized in 1833, recalled of the early church’s struggle with apostate
influences in the aftermath of the Kirtland fallout:
“Soon after the Prophet’s arrival in Commerce [Nauvoo] from
Missouri prison, Brother Isaac Behunin and myself made him a visit at his
residence. His persecutions were the topic of conversation. He repeated many
false, inconsistent and contradictory statements made by apostates, frightened
members of the Church and outsiders. He also told how most of the officials who
would fain have taken his life, when he was arrested, turned in his favor on
forming his acquaintance. He laid the burden of the blame on false brethren. …
“When the Prophet had ended telling how he had been treated,
Brother Behunin remarked: ‘If I should leave this Church I would not do as
those men have done: I would go to some remote place where Mormonism had never
been heard of, settle down, and no one would ever learn that I knew anything
about it.’
“The great Seer immediately replied: ‘Brother Behunin, you don’t
know what you would do. No doubt these men once thought as you do. Before you
joined this Church you stood on neutral ground. When the gospel was preached,
good and evil were set before you. You could choose either or neither. There
were two opposite masters inviting you to serve them. When you joined this Church
you enlisted to serve God. When you did that you left the neutral ground, and
you never can get back on to it. Should you forsake the Master you enlisted to
serve, it will be by the instigation of the evil one, and you will follow his
dictation and be his servant.’” (“Recollections
of the Prophet Joseph Smith,” Juvenile Instructor, Aug. 15, 1892, pp. 491,492)
This paradigm strikes me as a very simplistic one. On the one
hand, it is a powerful framework in which to view oneself. The dividing lines
between good and evil, right and wrong, black and white are very distinct. Both
allies and enemies are easily discerned, although they may be caricatures of
their real-world counterparts. But it does tend to offer a clear-cut sense of
purpose and validation to whatever meaning one chooses to read into life.
Unfortunately, this perspective also seems to guarantee all manner of
misrepresentation and misunderstanding toward the opposition. It is a
propagandistic position.
If one is not wary, a Mormon’s potent sense of purpose can
immunize them from constructive self-criticism and strip them of the very
compassion they pretend to practice. Don’t get me wrong, latter-day saints are
typically very compassionate people, both to their faithful membership and to
members of other faiths. But they struggle with the in-between. Once again, the
black and white gospel rhetoric creates a polarity that doesn’t really provide
space for the dissociated and the disaffiliates. Most Mormons struggle with how
to categorize this sometimes vocal minority; persons like myself who love
certain aspects of the gospel but choose to make their feelings and concerns
known. Thus, these “apostates” are regularly routed into the opposing camp
regardless of their honest intentions. Many do not understand that by thus
marginalizing thoughtful, struggling members because of honest skepticism, they
are creating artificial apostates. These are then typically characterized as
faithless, immoral, or otherwise irregular disciples, unfit for the kingdom.
I have exerted my own small efforts to enable the mutual
understanding of both parties. But much of my exertions feel wasted when we
seldom come to a mutual understanding. I suppose we see the world so
differently, we cannot help but speak past each other in many instances. How
can we bridge this chasm? Because much of the misunderstanding seems rooted in
confusion at the motives of heretics, I hope what follows will provide some
mutual understanding for my faithful friends. To adopt the spirit of the
season, I will suggest an empathetic reading of the almost universally
understood allegory of Santa Claus. Consider for a moment what it feels like
for someone to lose their faith.
Most of us have been on the receiving end of this one, so it
should be easy to relate to. Every winter, parents tell their children a
wonderfully magical tale about a portly, bearded man who spends the year
crafting toys for believers. In a single night in December, we are told, he
graciously delivers presents and toys and candy to all the good boys and girls
throughout the world. Parents take their children to sit on the lap of an actor
at the mall, have their kids write letters to him, and set out milk, cookies,
and a carrot the night before. Many parents go to great lengths to sustain the
illusion, staying up all night wrapping presents in his name. When the children
wake to find presents stacked knee high, each fulfilling their every hope and
desire, they are bedazzled! Witnessing for themselves the many gifts, the
carrot and cookies eaten, they can't help but believe. In the eyes of these
innocent children there is something magical in everything about it! They have
every confirmation they need.
It comes as no surprise to note that children often become a
little more obedient and a little more submissive come the holidays. The smart
parents will leverage the occasion to teach love and compassion and selfless
giving to their little ones. Nevertheless, it is often difficult for children
to anticipate anything other than what they will receive from Santa on
Christmas. But eventually there comes a time when they're a little older, a
little more mature, and a lot more rational thinking. They've experienced more
of the laws that govern our world. Perhaps they start discussing the logic of
Santa Claus being able to visit every home in a night with their friends,
perhaps they find a few gifts with Santa's name on them hidden in Mom's closet,
or maybe they begin to comprehend the sheer multitudes of children living in
third-world countries who have no concept of Christmas or presents or anything
of the sort.
The shattering of that illusion can be devastating to them. Some
children will feel hurt for being lied to, others will kick themselves for not
examining the evidence more closely, and many more will rush to inform the
ignorance of faithful friends. Most of them experience a loss of some sort. The
magic of Christmas day seems to vanish, even if they can learn to enjoy the
spirit of giving in its stead. Now to begin drawing parallels with a Mormon
faith crisis, extend this childhood experience with the Santa Claus fable from
a single, superficial holiday tradition once a year to every day of a person's
life. Suppose we continue to elaborate on the Christmas fiction so that there
is no aspect of life that belief does not affect. It informs everything you see
and do in the world, even defining your very identity and purpose. Extend the
fable’s duration well into adulthood. Imagine that the parental figures
continue to employ elaborate, illusory evidences and emphatically
faith-promoting discourse to sustain the credibility of the myth. Imagine that
you yourself want it to be true so badly that you yourself begin to contribute
to the Christmas culture, and you perpetuate it to your children. And then
imagine one day you see through it all. You realize how ridiculous it would be
if an obese man really could fit through your chimney and fill your life with
awesome goodness.
As an adult believer in this sort of thing, the structural
collapse would be crushing, even world-shattering in many respects. Can you
imagine reaching middle age and still believing Santa is real? To discover you
have been treated as a child for far too long? Consider the intense personal
trauma this sort of paradigm collapse would create for even the most
strong-minded individuals. Do the parents necessarily deserve the blame? Of course
much responsibility does fall on them. Perhaps most “parents” in this scenario
are believers themselves, only perpetuating their holiday faith heritage to a
new generation with the best of intentions. Their ardent argumentation for the
truthfulness of this mythology is certainly validation for their own beliefs,
as well as for their children. And even those parents who do not truly believe
are contented to perpetuate the myth, believing in arrogance that it is still
the best method to encourage obedience and teach proper moral lessons to their
subjects. Do these parents profit from the obedience of their children?
Definitely. If children become committed dependents, as they typically do
during the holiday season, is there nothing parents could not require of mature
adults who are likewise convicted of “the truth” all year round? Afterall,
parents could hang onerous consequences over the heads of their children so
long as they submit to the belief.
Such are the realizations of many who lose their faith. So much
the more with Mormonism, too. Can you imagine the disgust, the revulsion these
grown adults might feel at learning they were living, breathing, walking
manifestations of the lies they were taught in their youth? How furious would
they be to realize they were defrauded, no matter how earnest the intentions of
their mentors? How embarrassing! Multiply a child's devastation at learning the
truth behind Christmas a thousand times, and you begin to understand the pain
of leaving Mormonism, from the heretic's point of view. Such is the initial
bitterness of our plight. I think if the faithful can muster any empathy for
the heartbroken child who discovers the reality behind Christmas, they can
begin to sympathize with the broken hearts of many who leave Mormonism.
So what happens to these wandering children? It seems to me that
things mostly get better after the initial disappointments. Some will rush off
and immediately fill the vacancy with other, similar mythologies. It may be
religion or politics or secularism. But others will face the facts unabashedly.
We discover new freedoms and learn empowerment from this newfound agency. But
we are also forced to own up to the crushing reality of impending death, of
having to realize our own purpose in life, etc. All of these pleasures and
pains offer a true "coming of age" experience in my opinion – one I
do not believe is possible within the confines of Mormonism or any
institutional religion. So while the stories of Santa Claus were a beautiful ecstasy
to us as children, we must not curse the children who begin to see past it.
These begin to discover morality within themselves, independent of any
supernatural machinations. You see, these are headed for adulthood as they
pursue maturity. They abandon cognitive dissonance and become more fully
self-integrated. These begin to realize that they can no longer depend on a
mythical man to deliver presents to friends, family, and children.
They themselves will learn to give, and thus become the fabled Santa
Claus. No longer are these children, constantly submitting to some unseen,
pretended higher authority. They grow up and discover that authority within
themselves. They become true agents, fit to act and not be acted upon.
For this reason, I believe it is good to speak up and encourage
honest dealings when it comes to Mormonism’s faith claims. Those who are ready
for the dialogue will be bettered by it. But those who are not ready should be
cautious. Do not mistake the adult discussions taking place on controversial subjects
within Mormonism as bitterness caused by mystical forces or some other
justification within your own paradigm. Consider for a moment that the world is
bigger than how you view it. Many of my “fallen” peers invested their whole
souls in Mormonism before discovering the disconcerting reality. Should any of
us be surprised that they want to speak frankly with their friends and family
as a result? To be clear, I suggest this Santa Claus allegory not to belittle
believers, but to help them understand the feelings of those who have left the
fold.
