If You're Mormon, You Might Want to Look Away

We had an "Ask a Mormon!" segment on the Gil Gross program a while back, cooked up by Gil to disseminate information about the Mormon Church. Mitt Romney's not screwing around when it comes to being President, so we figured we might as well try to get to the bottom of a confusing and relatively new Christian sect. I'm all for information-spreading, because I think everyone should have their biases and preconceived notions challenged, regularly. However.

I had a Mormon step-dad for 10 years, and had a bit of an insider look at how part-time Mormons conduct themselves. At least how the part-time Mormon in my life conducted himself. He was sexist and a bit racist; congenial up to a point, then bitter and petty when "slighted." He was repressed, both sexually and emotionally. Women were for child-spawning to him, which makes me wonder why in the hell he married my mother in the first place (I am her one and only kid, and she wanted it to stay that way.) And in the end, when he couldn't get my mother to bow to his whims, he went back to his church. To the church that taught him what women were for. The church that taught him to spread the word of his God as far and wide as he could on the "mission" they sent him on at 18.

A lot of these things can be said of non-Mormons, obviously. But what crosses the line, for me, is the approach Mormons (and Jehovah's Witnesses, for that matter) take in order to spread their word. I don't walk up to someone's house and start mouthing off about how gay people deserve equal rights in everything that they do; or that I have the right to abort my fetus if I want; and I don't bend people's ears about my faith in a nature-based Goddess and a Wheel of the Year and that all gods and goddesses are aspects of the same power.

The first rule of any sort of spirituality or religion should be to keep it to yourself. I don't care that you have the "true path" to salvation. I don't care if you're concerned about my soul. I don't care if you think that my beliefs are a surefire way to end up in a flaming handbasket, hurtling towards Hell. And I will not tolerate uninvited drop-by's. Luckily I learned the "turn-the-lights-off-and-duck-behind-the-couch" routine at a young age; the rub comes along when your own stepfather send missionaries to your house when he knows you and your mom are home. And then they drop his name to get into the house. And I'm not even going to go into the ridiculousness of the attempt to convert people in their own homes. It took centuries of bloody wars to eradicate paganism, and Christians still wonder why they were lion meat in Rome. Because people don't like being converted by rampant proselytizers!

Faith and spirituality are deeply personal things. It's what keeps you afloat when you feel like you're drowning, it's what connects you to the world at large and the people on this planet. It lends perspective and relief in times of crisis. And it should! We need to know that we are part of something bigger than us, bigger than politics and thievery and hunger and disease. Bigger than capitalism and racism and bigotry. That we can be more than simply human. This is a struggle that each of us undertakes, and not one that should be tidied up within the framework of religious dogma. This life, on this planet, right now, has too much joy and mystery to offer to spend all of your time waiting until you die for it to get good.

Originally written 12.07