A Mormon Monster
It’s not like I wanted to be a monster. Often one arrives here unwillingly, organically. In my case, I served an LDS mission among evangelical Christians and found their critiques of my tradition fairly easy to fend off. At some point in my early twenties I wanted to become a “servant of my Father in Heaven” by becoming a competent defender of my tradition. Unfortunately, in Mormonism, as one ties down one loose end, five more pop up in the process. For me, as the years rolled by and I studied more and more, the tapestry of my tradition didn’t just unravel—it dissolved.
So here I sit, not really wanting to be an outsider in my LDS tradition, but not really able to sit through Sunday School and just nod along with some of the extraordinary concepts that are pitched. Neighbor kids aren’t allowed to play with my kids, or they have become “projects” to them. To my Mormon neighbors, I smell different, look different; I’m not one of them anymore. In short, I’ve become the Monster next door. And there is no going back. It is like what Community of Christ historian and author Paul Edwards once wrote:
What I’m talking about is knowledge. Knowledge is lived, not forgiven. … It’s an old Druid idea but an interesting one … Knowledge can’t be forgiven. We can be forgiven for our deeds, maybe for our thoughts. But once you know something, there’s no forgiveness because there’s no unknowing
Once we know something, there is little use in looking back. We can’t undo the past; we can’t wipe our minds of what we discover. And out of the ashes comes our new reality. For me, out of this new reality comes a question. How do I accept being a monster in the tradition that nurtured me in my youth? And can I fully untangle myself from its threads without damaging them for others.
Nice job here, Habakkuk. You and your monster clan. Looking forward to more.
I recall the world of my Mormon youth, filled with monsters out there. Now I am one of them — so where did they all go? Left behind, in the minds of those who fear me now.
Very good post. I am in nearly the same situation (like many others) but I’ve never seen the problem put so well, so briefly. Thanks.
I like this post, Habakkuk. Thanks!
I guess my question is how do you “know” whether your “knowledge” is of a full versus a partial fact? In other words, I am absolutely with you on the experience of coming to know something that we once believed is “not” true (at least in the way we understood it before) and that, in this, there is “no unknowing” of that.
Where I wonder if we disagree is how fully we take our experience of “knowledge” when that particular new knowledge of ours is actually an “unknowing” rather than a genuine “new knowing”? In short, my contention is that I think there’s a big difference between (1) stepping away from an old belief and thereby coming to a “knowing” that the old belief was wrong or incomplete and (2) moving into a “new knowing” that encompasses or includes the partiality of that old knowledge. Further, this second kind is a knowing that takes away the pain of our disillusionment and, at least I have found, makes me feel a lot less like a monster around those I associate with in my Mormon tradition.
Following my line of reasoning at all? Would love to engage you on this.
(2) “moving into a “new knowing” that encompasses or includes the partiality of that old knowledge. Further, this second kind is a knowing that takes away the pain of our disillusionment and, at least I have found, makes me feel a lot less like a monster around those I associate with in my Mormon tradition.”
I’m following you on this, but first, the original topic is “being a monster.” Regardless of where we go with this thread. The moment one moves away from the orthodoxy, one becomes dangerous to the tradition. Even Obadiah and his so called, “heterodoxy” and yet “active Mormon” stance is viewed as “suspect” by some.
If it’s purely about the “pain of our disillusionment.” The understanding of my situation is a lot easier to bare, and allows me to at least attempt to continue to walk in some way, in and among our tradition. But that doesn’t make it any more true or any less problematic as a doubter. I still don’t know what to do with my oldest son who is contemplating a mission. Do I want my son to be like yours and view me as “like minded” (at least that is my impression of him) and talk my son out of going, or do I support him in wanting to go on the mission and risk having him view me as “other” when he discovers I’m not even close to being orthodox?
Sorry to threadjack and try to take this in a new direction. Maybe I’ll start my own thread on the issue of “knowledge” in the form of “unknowing” versus “new knowing.”
On the issue you want to focus on here, I agree that some see folks who have moved away from orthodoxy as “dangerous,” but in the end, isn’t it healthy to have folks at the edges who can help alert the middle to the way some of its teachings and ways of acting are harming them/others/Church mission? I know it’s lonely at times to feel out of step with my tradition, but I have come to accept and embrace the tension as coming with the territory when I set out to explore. And more and more as I interact with my ward leaders and those in the pews with me who may have found me “dangerous,” I am often finding an even deeper fellowship as these people, too, now feel freer to share with me some of their non-orthodox positions (and if not unorthodoxies, at least better express their fears and anxieties).
All my best on how things unfold with your son and his mission decision and your relationship with him.
I do want to correct what might be a mis-impression from awkward phrasing in your statement about my son: I certainly never tried to talk my son out of going on a mission. That he and I have found a way to talk freely and openly about both his and my spiritual lives is a real blessing, to be sure, but I certainly never tried to dissuade him from serving. My mission was a wonderful experience, and I’d have loved him to go on one, even if it meant his being surrounded by others who might have caused him to worry a bit about me and the ways I’m not at all orthodox.
I think it’s very much worthwhile to have those out on the edges who remind the orthodox of their own problems and issues. But I think it takes a special kind of person to accomplish that – one that I have no patience in being.
In order to gain the trust and amass the capital to call the orthodoxy on their harmful practices, one has to be willing to play by the rules first. You’ve got to do the home teaching, you’ve got to fulfill the calling, attend faithfully, and all that jazz. It’s just not me. But I respect those who do it – certainly more than those who show up once every two months to whine and moan about Brigham Young not being a polygamist in the official manual.
On the flip side, there’s something to be said for outsiders critiquing the church as well. Jan Shipps and Helen Whitney can get away with criticism far easier than faithful critics. (That’s obviously not unique to Mormonism; it’s a hallmark of all institutional behavior.) I think over the years Mormonism has become more adept at accepting criticism from outsiders, even if only privately while publicly ignoring it or denouncing it, though it still has a long way to go. Mistrust of information about the group from outside the group is a real problem within Mormonism, and I think it’s that insularity that still has outsiders raising an eyebrow, and even tossing around the “cult” word (even if it is unfair).
H, if some neighbors have moved to the “don’t play with those kids” stage, I’m guessing you did a lot more than sit in Sunday School and not nod along. Sunday School really isn’t the place to verbally work out faith-and-doubt issues. Blogs are better for that sort of thing. Or journals or email lists or siblings.
Do you really feel like an outsider in your own Mormon tradition?
Dave
That would be an honest guess. I did very little of that in this ward. But I do have “funny ideas” I suppose. Like “Obedience” being made for the benefit of the person, not the person existing for “obedience.” I think I can tie that to the teaching of Jesus, but there seems to be an obedience cult emerging from our tradition. And non of us are obedient, one way or another.
Parents don’t let their kids play with the Mexican family in our neighborhood either so I chalk it up to fear of the unknown more than anything.
I do feel like an outsider in my tradition. Why do you ask?
H