[image from churchofjesuschrist.org]
When I was still a believing and attending member of the Church, I had lunch with an acquaintance who was just on the brink of becoming a friend. I was surprised to find out she was a member of the Church.
“I try to keep it quiet,” she confided, “because people get the wrong idea if they find out.”
I nodded. This was true. I used to be proud of being a Latter-day Saint, but now I was apologetic about it. I felt like I had to clarify that I didn’t think gay people were choosing to be gay because they liked sinning, and that I really honestly believe that women are equal to men, and God never was a racist — the whole priesthood ban was from men. And I needed to put an asterisk on the scriptures and say that, while they had a lot of good points, I didn’t agree with everything in the scriptures. I still had a testimony! It was just that a lot of the assumptions people made about Church members didn’t actually apply to me.
That nuanced phase is sure awkward, isn’t it?
But it did make me think about the times when I used to be proud of being a Church member. When I say ‘proud’ what I mean is I was happy to be a Church member and sure that everyone respected us even if they disagreed with us. Being a member of the Church brought me a feeling of belonging to an admirable organization.
Like on my mission, I was so excited to be teaching the Gospel. We are as the armies of Helaman. Remember that song? We (eight missionaries) sang it at a branch conference once and thrilled all the members. Yes, it was cheesy, but still!
And service projects! I was proud of service projects. After disasters happened, the news would carry stories about the helpers and I’d chuckle at the stories of people who were so impressed with the people in the Helping Hands vests but wondered why none of them knew how to make coffee. Welfare Square, the humanitarian aid that the Church shipped all over the world, Bishops Central Storehouses. I was really proud of the Church’s efforts to help the needy.
The flowers and landscaping on Temple Square, and the entire Main Street Plaza, are gorgeous. The Church excels at landscaping and I love flowers.
Moving into a new ward was another thing that made me proud to be a member of the Church. I move a lot and I loved having an instant community where I knew all the ground rules and knew how to fit in. I knew both how to help and ask for help and ward leadership loved me back. Every time I showed up in a new ward and said, “Hi, I moved in last week,” I felt proud to be a Mormon.
Then I learned the rest of the story about the things I was proud of.
Missionary work is a form of colonialism and imperialism. Did other countries really need our American religion? I know some people I baptized benefitted from it. But the idea of missionary work exhausts me anymore. It’s too much like advertising and I am exhausted from being bombarded with ads. Just let people be. Please.
My perspective on service projects began to change in my late 20s, when I accompanied a group of international dignitaries on a tour of Welfare Square. I was practically vibrating with excitement at this visible evidence of the Church’s generosity. The Church had a map with pins in it showing where their donations had been shipped and the dignitaries stepped up to see how many pins were in their countries. One was offended, though. We have so much wealth that our castoffs are better than anything in their country. I started that day thinking that everyone would be grateful for our generosity and finished it wondering if charity is arrogant and the better goal is equality.
I still love the flowers and landscaping. With an asterisk now. I pass by Temple Square every day on my way to work. Those beautiful flowers are not drought-tolerant and I wonder how much water the Church uses while I ration out water to make yarrow and yucca grow in my yard. The Church doesn’t use sprinklers anymore — they’ve got drip irrigation in every flowerbed. They are conserving water and still achieving luxurious flowers. I imagine whatever grow mix they plant their flowers in costs a fortune.
The instant community — still no downside to that in my mind. Unlike some who have gone completely inactive, I’m happy to chat with anyone who shows up at my door with an invitation to a Church activity. I turn down the invitation, but I’m still happy to talk to them. I like my neighbors and most of the people I know in my neighborhood are people I met in the ward before I quit going.
I could go on. The Church was a huge part of my life and there isn’t a way to say it was all good or all bad. At some point, it tipped the scales so that the bad outweighed the good. For several years, it was all bad in my mind. That phase is necessary. For decades, I’d ignored the bad stuff to focus on the positive and the anger wasn’t erasing the positive — it was finally giving equal space to the bad parts. All good transitioned into all bad and eventually blended into where I’m at now: a balanced perspective on something that was a major part of my life.
Questions:
- When were you (are you) proud to be a member of the Church? What specific aspects of the Church were you (are you) proud of?
- After President Benson gave his talk cautioning about the evils of pride, did you wonder how to identify the feeling of pride? Like being proud of your kids, or your Church, or your heritage?
- Have you ever felt awkward or apologetic about being a member of the Church? When do you feel you need to correct someone’s assumptions if they find out you’re a member of the Church? Do you try to keep your Church affiliation quiet?
Wheat & Tares 
I think Benson’s pride talk was important, by far his best public sermon, but yes, it did kind of mess with our ability to use the word pride in a positive way. I think Uchtdorf acknowledged that in a talk once. I would say that the key to what’s a “proper” usage of the word is in Benson’s talk, in which he describes pride as “essentially competitive in nature”. I think it’s OK to feel a sense of pride when we are able to feel it in a non-competitive way.
I once felt many of the same things you did about the church, and I also now feel a bit more hesitant about it in the same way your colleague did. My changed views on LGBT questions were probably the biggest factor in that shift. I’m not proud of my church’s role in setting back the cause of marriage equality in California.
I feel proud of my Mormon pioneer heritage and the role some of my ancestors played in settling the west. But, I’m also equally proud of the Irish Catholic heritage from one of my parents, which comes with a whole different set of stories.
I still think the church does good things in the world that are worthy of admiration, but as the picture of their accumulated wealth has come into focus over the last decade, I no longer impressed by the scale of their current humanitarian efforts. Scale it up by an order or magnitude and I’ll reconsider.
At physical therapy I was chatting with the receptionist and it somehow came up that she lived in Provo. She asked if I was Mormon and I said “used to be” and she replied “same.” I felt a connection to her not unlike how I used to feel when I found out someone was Mormon. We shared brief backgrounds and it was enjoyable.
Related, I’ve noticed there is tendency among some post mo’s and atheists to consider themselves enlightened and better than, not unlike some Mormons. Trying to avoid that but perhaps it’s a general human tendency.
I haven’t felt proud to be Mormon since I left BYU. I moved to the East coast and it became apparent very quickly that my conservative views were considered backward. It felt downright culty to say I was a full time two year missionary. My first truly intense cognitive dissonance happened when living in Arizona and every ward member was asked to put signs in our yard that we opposed gay marriage. That’s when my LDS pride took a huge hit that never recovered.
I spent a few minutes really searching my memories and I don’t think I was ever proud of being a member of the church. It was just an aspect of who I was. Something I did. I was somewhat uncomfortable being a descendant of one of Jacob Hamblin’s wives because I lived about an hour away from Colorado City/Hilldale and knew polygamy wasn’t a good thing. I was fairly self-conscious about one of the twelve being my great-uncle; I didn’t really want anyone to find out.
And while I come from “pioneer stock” on both sides, it was never really that important to me. There are other aspects of my family that are more interesting. Like my grandfather being a professional hunter/trapper/bounty hunter for the BLM. My great-grandfather being something of a local celebrity/Grand Canyon trail guide. Or my grandfather on my mother’s side being a very successful dairy rancher. My grandmother being the second woman to graduate with a degree in civil engineering from the University of Arizona. Or that she designed her own house to make life easier/more efficient while raising her six kids on her own after her husband died in a car accident. Or another grandmother being born two and half months early and her grandfather keeping her in a shoebox in the bread warmer of the wood-burning over to keep her alive. And I’m really paring down these tales to not take up tons of room.
I’m proud of my family history. And my family has some rather deep roots in the church.
Now when someone finds out if I’m from Utah and asks if I’m Mormon I just say, “Not anymore.” And I’m happy to answer any questions they have.
Trevor, did the church supply the signs or were members supposed to pay for them too?
On the topic of pride, declaring a word inherently good or bad is nearly always problematic, because words have such varied meanings based on usage. We all realize that, which is why when Benson declared pride to be evil, we all had to spend 40 years equivocating about “good pride” and “bad pride”. We didn’t like the messages, so we negotiated with it until it meant what we wanted it to.
But the best thought I’ve ever heard on the topic was from someone who pointed out that when God introduced Jesus in the scriptures he didn’t say he we proud of Jesus, but that he was “well pleased”. And really, that’s probably a more apt description a lot of the time. My son is starting college in a week. He finished high school well. I could say I’m “proud of him,” but recognizing that he did more work than I did, I try to instead say that I’m happy for him, pleased, excited, nervous, and impressed by the growth and skills that I’ve seen from him in the last two years. There are so many other ways we can say things that are more descriptive than just being “proud”. And that holds true even when talking about my own accomplishments.
As for being proud of my membership in the church, it’s certainly changed over the years. The instant community of people willing to help you move into a new city has always been one of the best things about the church to me. (I don’t see that happen anymore. Maybe all my neighbors are wealthy enough to pay professionals.) These days I’m ashamed far more than I am proud. They’re all the standard reasons that you’d probably assume, so I won’t list them. My last 16 years have been evenly split between living in the Midwest and living in Utah. Being in the minority made me want to present the church in a positive way, and educate people who often had pretty incorrect ideas about LDS doctrine and practices. But I’m back in Utah now, where I don’t feel that pressure. I present as far more orthodox LDS than I am, but I don’t worry about trying to correct every casual acquaintances assumptions about me (which are probably often pretty wrong). My friends know where I stand, and I have no problem discussing my current feelings about the church if anyone cares to ask.
@lpf43 my memory is a little rusty. This happened in 2008, the same year that California church members were asked to vote against Prop 8. I do think the stake provided signs.
I was in an awkward space at the time – wanting to support the church but also some part of me knew it was wrong. The ward also asked us to stand with signs at a legal distance outside of voting locations. I signed up for the 6am time slot so people wouldn’t recognize me. Wish I had displayed more moral courage at the time. Sigh.
My boomer mother-in-law is a disaffected formerly active Mormon. She was born, raised and educated in Utah, raised her children there, and had a 30+ year career there as an elementary school teacher. After retiring, she moved to a different state to be closer to grandkids. She is friendly and likes to strike up conversations with people, but she is careful to avoid telling anyone she is originally from Utah because “I know what the next question is going to be, and I don’t want to have to answer it or explain it”. When asked, she just tells people she is from her current state of residence and changes the subject.
For me, I can’t really remember a time I felt myself swelling up with pride over being Mormon. I grew up in CA in the 80s-90s, where we were a minority faith and we more or less knew our place, but we were also respectful of others’ beliefs so folks generally left us alone. Outing one’s self as a Mormon potentially came with social consequences, so we didn’t really trumpet it, but also weren’t ashamed of it either (one of the benefits of having a handful of JW families in your community is that we Mormons didn’t have to be viewed as the weirdest ones). Among my friends, we all knew what each other’s religious background was, but we didn’t care about it that much either.
One notable exception that stands out in my mind: we lived within driving distance of the Oakland Temple, and my family would sometimes go on drives just to visit the grounds. We would casually take non-member friends and neighbors with us, and stroll the impressive gardens, and walk around the open-to-the-public rooftop terrace with its commanding views of the Bay. We would remark proudly of how all inbound cargo ships used the temple as a visual reference point to safely navigate into the bay (I’m not sure if this is true, but I certainly believed it then). This temple was OUR showpiece, and we were proud of it. With our non-member guests, there was never a proselytizing agenda for us, we were just happy to share the beautiful space, and maybe afterwards get ice cream at Fenton’s (if you know, you know).
Then I grew up, left home, went to college, started my career, got married, and was settled in a different part of CA when Prop 8 came into being. That was probably the most significant single turning point that shifted me toward feeling Mormonism as a badge of shame, while also gently igniting the fuse on my deconstruction, which would last many more years while being spurred on by the multiple Church-related controversies that would follow. These days, I go to pains to avoid talking about personal religious beliefs with my colleagues. I have a few evangelical co-workers who would jump at the chance to proselytize, invite me to services, and otherwise try to shove their obnoxious beliefs down my throat. But I don’t take the bait, and I don’t give them the opening. I won’t talk about my religious background with them, and they extend me the same courtesy, and that’s how I want it to stay. I certainly don’t invite my neighbors and friends to admire nearby temples; my nearest one nowadays is a Hinkley-era McTemple, and not worth showing off anyway.
Interesting side note: I haven’t lived in CA for well over a decade, but I hear the Oakland temple grounds are now a popular location for secular photo shoots (weddings, proms, quinceaneras, etc.) used by local people who have no affiliation with the Church whatsoever. Even in my TBM days, I probably would have been fine with this.
I was never proud to be Mormon and I think I realized about 10 years old that if I had not been born Mormon, no way would I have EVER joined. But my upbringing was weird compared to most everybody here. I suspect my parents were closet unbelievers, but never once even admitted as much to even themselves. Congestive dissonance being what it is, there are just some things one doesn’t dare examine.
So, with them pretending to believe because of the social pressure of polygamist pioneer ancestors and living in Provo, Ut. They raised us kids to view the church as God’s own truth and the worst evil to escape from hell, both at the same time. Maybe they never dared really question, but it was really a crazy way to grow up. Talk about being raised in the worst of “the Emperor’s new clothes.” They made snide remarks, such as one time my dad voiced that Jesus was [insert very nasty word for born out of wedlock] and when Jim Jones poisoned 900 or so people, my mother made the comment of him being a cult leader, exactly like Joseph Smith in sexually abusing children and his control over his followers. But after such a nasty comment, they refused to say anything. But once again went right back to acting like the church was perfect.
So, I was kind of a reluctant church participant as a child because I was a nerd kid and the other girls didn’t like me. But then as a teen, I succumbed to social pressure because of a crush (well, if a crush can last two years) I had on a guy and went to church, took seminary, and pretended to be a good Mormon. I never liked Joseph Smith because I saw some of the same narcissistic behavior in *him* as my horrible father showed. I was probably 7 or so when I first decided from some story in primary that Joseph Smith was a bully. But anyway, I think I kind of did exactly what my parents did. Pretended that I believed the church was true while secretly thinking it was all pretty stupid. I didn’t dare even admit to myself that I didn’t *like* Mormonism. But once I was married to a RM, deciding that I didn’t believe was difficult and going inactive even harder. So, I didn’t look to closely at what I believed, even though I knew there was a l-o-n-g list of stuff about Mormonism that I didn’t like.
As an Air Force wife, I liked the instant community.
It took me until I was in my 50s to hit the point that I just had to get out of the culture.
When I graduated from BYU I went to work for a certain government agency which was well known for recruiting BYU grads / RMs. It was said that we (Mormons) were able to pass a polygraph test easier than most due to our clean lifestyle and we had foreign country / language experience earlier than most. In fact, I was told at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI) where they teach government officers foreign languages that the two best language schools in the US were (1) the MTC and (2) the FSI. I was so proud to be a “graduate” of both schools and to be part of the “Mormon Mafia”.
Back then (late 80s) it was so cool to be a Reagan Republican Mormon working for the US government overseas. Being LDS was central to the image. So much of that seems cringy to me now but it was awesome then.
I wasn’t ever proud of being a Mormon, even at my most faithful. I think I was a bit overboard with it; as a kid I was embarrassed any time I had to go out in public in my ‘church clothes’.
This made my mission rather difficult, and tracting doubly so. I was pretty miserable on my mission. I never broadcast that I was a Mormon at work, but I assumed most people knew, since I was from Utah and didn’t drink coffee.
The low point came when a stranger asked me if I was a Mormon while on a job in California. I was working at the time with a woman who was in a long term relationship with another woman. We had an amiable work relationship, they were the main people my wife and I would hang out with at work parties and such. This wasn’t long after prop 8. She was fairly politically active, and I’m sure aware at some level of the church’s involvement.
I did say yes, but it was the last straw for me. I wasn’t all that active by that time, but disengaged completely shortly after.
Hmmm. This is a tough one, and I’m with Anna in her comment that had I not been raised in it, there was really never any possibility that I would have chosen to convert to it (or any religion). I think I’m like most people in that “a body at rest stays at rest and a body in motion stays in motion.” Religion is to me, mostly a community to belong to. I wouldn’t be drawn to a religion on the basis of a set of beliefs because it comes with people telling you what to do, and I think I’m a better guide for those decisions than someone else could ever be.
Mostly the church is a source of embarrassment, far more than it deserves to be. The majority of those who judge it harshly don’t really know much about it beyond the worst aspects. They don’t realize that it’s better in many ways than other conservative faiths (in terms of how oppressive it is, how educated the members are, how successful most are at navigating their lives in society, the skills members have due to running their wards, etc.)
I think the best I felt about the church’s reputation were at a few points. First, when I was moving from one state to another for a big promotion, and the CRO (Chief Risk Officer) of Amex told me that he greatly admired how helpful the Mormon communities he saw were in terms of welcoming newcomers, and that your kids immediately had a group of friends, you had help moving and finding your way. He said it reminded him of the closeknit Indian immigrant communities. Second, one of my team members from another country was on a business trip to Singapore when I was there, and I had invited her to our place for dinner on Mother’s Day because she was away from her own family. I mentioned that I had had to speak at church that day, and she expressed interest in that she wished I had told her so she could hear my “sermon” as a cool experience. It occurred to me that it is unusual to most people that we give talks. Third, we had a French foreign exchange student staying with us, and when it was Sunday we said it was up to him if he wanted to come along. He said he did. It was kind of a weird mixed bag because he came down dressed in a way that would stand out (negatively) in a Mormon church, so we offered him a button down shirt to wear with his jeans & sneakers. He was actually really surprised (in a good way) that our oldest son did the sacrament. He was used to Catholic services with a much higher liturgy. I think he thought it was a cool cultural experience. He certainly wasn’t interested in the church aside from that.
On a downside, I had a boss who was unaware I was Mormon (although I wasn’t exactly hiding it–I drank gallons of diet coke every day and I had moved there from Utah). She said she didn’t know women were allowed to work, which was kind of bonkers because later when we were both leaving our company, she told me she was going to divinity school, and I asked if she was going to preach, and she said she didn’t think women were successful preachers, which is basically giving women less authority than Mormonism does (see the fact that I was speaking in church and served a mission). So, she thought WE were the backwards ones, and I still think her Evangelical church was much worse.
Growing up in back east, almost none of my friends knew anything about Mormons aside from polygamy, and let me tell you, that’s nothing to be proud of. Having to defend it as a teen wasn’t a great position to be in, so yes, I totally downplayed being in the church, just like everyone else at church did.
As a thoroughly brainwashed missionary in Paris, I bought into the Mormon pride BS. You know the drill – doing the Lord’s work, only true church, etc.
Most of our converts were from North Africa. I now realize their primary motivation was economic opportunity, with minimal spiritual confirmation.
Then reality sank in. As a HC in a student stake, I was assigned to put together a student choir to sing on the Temple Square block during breaks in GC sessions. The objective was to stand in front of the anti-Mormon protestors and drown out their conversations. Such a positive experience. Students were cold and wet; most came away disgusted at the manipulation.
As bishop, pride came in the form of increasing annual tithing revenue by a target of 20% annually. The SP took perverse pleasure in increasing the activity budget of the ward with the best #’s.
Now I avoid any discussion of the church in social and business settings. It is the shame cycle at work.
I work in academia and kind of wish I could take BYU off my resume. Especially these days. I feel like if I say I went to BYU, I have to explain my beliefs because I don’t want to be associated with some of the things the church stands for. I don’t agree with the its stance on LGBTQ folks, men presiding, etc. I don’t feel like I can be a member missionary because I don’t think those things are true.
In an awkward turn of events, the last time someone at work found out I was Mormon, they were very excited to talk about the secret lives of Mormon housewives show. By distancing ourselves from the name, other sources are filling the vacuum. Instead of being associated with temples or meet the Mormons we are not linked to secret lives. Oops.
I am not ashamed to be part of the LDS community. Every community has flaws, often serious flaws, and admittedly, the LDS community has some whoppers. One of their whoppers is probably associating with me. Not that many embrace me fully, especially those on the leadership track, who eye me with suspicion. I do have a few good friends. I guess it is largely due to my moderately liberal political views and my interfaith worldview. You see I know that the LDS church is not the bestest or the grandest in most religious categories and I happily counter hyperbolic statements with facts during lessons. Apparently, one bishop found this amusing and made me Sunday School President, a sin he may never recover from socially. So with this grand status I now calmly point out the cultural flaws and theological gaffs… and i am quite good at it. So i think I am stuck.
I believe in some of the specific truth claims of the church, and possess an excellent sense of humor… enough to wade through a temple recommend interview. I make it through by redefining the word “sustain”… for most TBM folks the word means loyally support the leader and hang on every word, for me it simply means to not murder them. Is that new bishop still alive? Yep. Fully sustained, even if he is an imbecile.
I also do some mental gymnastics about general authorities. If they are dead, I happily ignore what they said. If they are living, I simply note that they will soon be dead, so why get worked up by what they are saying? If something really irritates me, I can always post a comment at Times & Seasons as part of my therapy.
Overall maybe “proud” wouldn’t be the right word but I felt good about being a Mormon during President Hinckley’s tenure.
Sayings I would hear growing up that made me feel proud to be a Mormon.
We’re the fastest growing church. It was just a given fact to me and others around me that the church would eventually spread worldwide. I remember talking with a college roommate wistfully about how the “gospel” would spread to China.
Apologists making these amazing discoveries (i.e. chiasmus) that were getting recognition by non-Mormon scholars.
This idea that the second-most frequented websites, after porn, were genealogy sites.
The idea that the church’s humanitarian wing were lightning quick to help in disaster zones.
The idea that Nike’s Just Do It slogan possibly came from Spencer W. Kimball.
The list goes on.
Finally, when I went to grad school and started making friends with non-Mormons without feeling the pressure to convert them, it began to dawn on me that Mormons are strange, not respected per se. It is just that it considered taboo in secular American and European cultures to disparage someone because of their religion. I remember talking to a colleague about how I served a mission to Brazil. At first he praised me saying it was wonderful that I devoted two years of my life to service projects. When he asked what kinds of service I devoted myself to, I responded that the bulk of my mission was to convert people to the Mormon Church. He then looked at me very differently and said some dismissive remark I can’t exactly remember.
Reading the comments, I keep reading how many of you feel embarrassed to be a Mormon now. I guess I would feel the same living outside Utah. But in Utah, I feel it’s a different dynamic. Here, most people have some connection or other to the Mormon Church, even if you didn’t grow up Mormon or outside Utah, you have Mormon friends. But it is widely acknowledged, at least in Salt Lake County, that there are lots of different types of Mormons. There are TBM Mormons, social Mormons, jack Mormons, secret lives Mormon wives Mormons, liberal Mormons, ex-Mormons, and the list goes on. Saying I’m Mormon doesn’t mean too much. In fact, people don’t often say I’m Mormon, you just start talking about your life and it becomes apparent that you’re Mormon and what kind of Mormon you are.
hawkgrrrl – your comment about the woman who wished she could hear your “sermon” and how unique it is that public speaking is just part of the Mormon culture reminded me of a mission experience. Like half the women my age from Utah, I played the piano. I played well enough to accompany the singing in Church meetings. An investigator found this out and was very impressed that I was a musician. I thought ‘musician’ was a really pretentious label. I mean, all I did was take lessons for 6 or 8 years to learn how to play four part harmony at tempo in order to participate in public singing. Then I thought about it, and you know, I am (was) a musician. The breadth of musical talent in the Church is pretty impressive.
I was taught all the pride I had in my Church membership. My pioneer heritage, the good works the Church did, our clean living and hard work. My parents were well-pleased (good word, DaveW) with the Church and taught us that same attitude. I was surprised to find out, after I quit, that most people think we’re odd, not respected.
Quite validating to see my life experience similar to others, such that I was proud to be a Mormon growing up in Utah in a socioeconomic status that never exposed me to anything other than Jello-Belt culture.
Proud to be a Mormon under Hinckley as a teenager and in particular loved the notion that we want people to bring their goodness for us to add to theirs, and that’s the approach I took on my foreign mission.
But once I left BYU in the mid-2000’s for Southern California and realized that peoples are peoples and abstaining from coffee didn’t make me special, I quickly became embarrassed by Prop 8. I’ve been consistently embarrassed ever since.
I was raised in Ohio, went on a mission to California, had my first job after college in Arizona, and was proud I was Mormon when moved to Utah. Now I say I’m a retired Mormon. Utah did that to me.
I would say I am proud of some things and not so proud of others. Recently, I was talking to a Jewish colleague who worked with a small group of Protestant Christians. He mentioned that the subject of Mormonism came up and then said, “Man, they really hate you guys. I don’t understand it.” He then mentioned that he spent some time trying to counter their arguments, to no avail. He asked if that is pretty normal and I said yes. He actually felt some kinship with me over the persecution. I had some pride in our connection.
I also work in an environment with a lot of LGBTQ+ individuals. There is also a lot of talk about faith and religion. While Prop 8 has come up, so has the joint concert the Tabernacle Choir had with the SF Gay Mens Chorus. There is an appreciation that, while we have doctines that are anti-LGBTQ+, we are still willing to dialogue and work together, unlike many Christian churches. I am proud of that.
And, for all the cynical response the “Religious Freedom” movement recieves, the Church really does strive to build respectful, working relationships with other faith traditions. You don’t have “Convert Your Catholic Neighbor classes taught in church. While the Church may evangelize, they don’t openly disparage any other specific faith tradition. The BYU World Religions class is about finding commonalities with other faiths. The official stance of the church is that the great religious leaders and philosophers were inspired by God. You don’t get that in many other faiths outside of the Sikhs and Bahai’s.
So, with all of its problems, the Church is just like any other big organization led by people. Unfortunately it is misunderstood by most due to its insular nature. It can be offensive and wrong, but it is also unique and admirable in other ways.
The foremost point of beauty for me is the sealing power. We are striving to search out, remember and speak the name of every individual living, past, present and future. We pray for them individually by name in various ways through various ordinances. We unite their name into one great whole, while still preserving their distinctness. We believe the work is undone until we have remembered every single person.
Of course there are counter-perceptions and caricatures. Sometimes the caricatures are official doctrine. It’s not about past spirits becoming members of a church, or about tickets into heaven. It is about infinite oneness, together with infinite uniqueness. Everybody chooses. Nothing is compulsory. When we get to the point that we all choose freely, I suspect that what we are choosing will look very different than anyone now conceives. I would be elated if people from every belief system said prayers or performed ordinances for me by name and believed they needed to do so for all humankind. I would hunger to know more. I’m not concerned with what they inevitably get wrong. I want to comprehend the ways they are differently right.
Other points of light that I would be happy to talk about to anyone at anytime:
-The Articles of Faith, especially 11 & 13
-Many, many (but not all) passages of scripture, points of doctrine and ideas expressed by leaders
-Many, many (but not all) ideas expressed by lay members, which I get to hear often
-Lay clergy and general volunteerism
-That missionaries are taught to share and invite, not to argue or persuade, and that they mostly succeed at that because/despite being young, dumb volunteers
-Multilingualism and respect for diverse languages
-Interfaith practices
-The commonalities and differences I find between Mormonism, Buddhism, mystical atheism, secular atheism, scientific inquiry and many other traditions. Sometimes these are different manifestations of a shared core, which is lovely. Sometimes they are just different, which is enlivening. I perceive the differences as additive, balancing/oppositional and therefore strengthening and supportive.
Yes, there are downsides, sometimes ugly. We fail in many significant venues and in our own aspirations. This is why we need other people and practices, and why the work is not done until all are united. It is through other peoples that we will find eternal and universal progression. This is the crux of the sealing power.