Questioning the Brethren
I spent ten years attending church, paying tithing, going to the temple, accepting callings that cost me time and energy and often mental health, because I believed, even after I stopped having faith in God or any after-life, that the Mormon church was good. I believed that the men who led the church were good and that it went all the way down, that my local leaders were good, that my male family members were good-hearted men whose judgment could be trusted, even and especially when it came to women’s issues. In 2015, when the policy of exclusion came out, that belief ended. I simply stopped believing that the men who had come up with this policy were good, that they had good intentions and were trying to help other people and that they were being led by anything other than their own, limited thoughts and beliefs about LGBTQ people.
I did not immediately leave the church for various reasons, including a mixed-faith marriage and my children still being involved in it. But this was the end of my trust in the church and the end of my willingness to pay tithing to an institution that I no longer believed had any checks on it that were useful. I mean, I guess other than the eventual death of the current leaders and whoever the new leaders are throwing them under the bus when it suits them to insist that whatever we were told was doctrine was actually just “policy,” which of course is an easy thing to do years later when it costs the church nothing and there is no admission that no one can tell the difference between doctrine and policy at the time and if you are excommunicated from the church for standing up for what turns out to be beliefs that are later vindicated, it is extremely unlikely that the church will admit you were right. Because you are still supposed to follow the Brethren no matter what, until they change their minds.
The fact that the policy of exclusion was reversed three years later did not help me at all. I was already on the outside, already seen as “other,” as a former faithful member who was now dangerous and who wasn’t to be helped in any way once I was thrust out of my marriage and my home. Because I had turned against the church and the future change had no bearing on the fact that I had not been loyal when it mattered. And besides, the church leaders weren’t wrong. They were just following what God told them to do. God was the one who changed His mind. Yes, the God who is the same yesterday, today and forever.
(My kids will insist that I add here a reminder that the policy of exclusion never really changed in any meaningful way — the only change was to make it clear that bishops were the ones to appeal to for an exception instead of the First Presidency, because yes, make the local leaders answer for policies the Salt Lake City leadership is actually insisting is from God.)
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One of the things that happened after I stopped seeing the Brethren as unassailable, as deserving benefit of the doubt at every turn, was that a lot of things became easier in my life. I simply stopped having to defend things that were indefensible. The Brethren were simply wrong and I could say that out loud. It was truly a relief not to have to run in circles and use complicated logic to explain as godly things that were, well, not.
Sure, I believe that the leaders of the Mormon church are trying to do something that is difficult, which is to lead a Utah-centered church into the age of the internet and global membership — as well as global criticism. I can see this as a difficult task that would be impossible to achieve well. I can see these men as struggling as they age to deal with a modern world that no longer makes sense to them. I can also see that they have made certain changes that I think were wise, and that they are not wrong all the time. This does not, unfortunately, make me think that they are anything more than corporate leaders or a corporate church. And I can treat them as I would treat any corporation that asks for loyalty and/or my money. I can simply say no when I feel it is in my interest or that my judgment and morality require me to say no. There is no more conflict inside me about this.
I won’t say that this comes at no cost. It has had a cost and I wouldn’t even pretend to argue that the cost is less than the relief I feel. There are many times when I wish I could still be Mormon. It was comforting to believe in a God in charge of everything. It was wonderful to believe that I could pray and that God would hear and answer my prayers, or that the way to find answers to difficult questions was to wait until God told me what to do, and then have no doubt that I was doing the right thing. It was comforting to believe that the children I loved to desperation were always going to be connected to me. And even though I hate the long list of rules that Mormons are asked to follow, it was on some level nice to know that it was a finite list and that it was possible to do all of those things well, and then to be assured of salvation.
And yet . . .
There are things on this side that offer some compensation. And slowly, I become used to hearing Mormons insist that the Brethren deserve to be defended as anything other than old men who grew up in a different time and are losing their grasp on reality today — and it doesn’t affect me. I don’t think that so many old people being in charge of so many institutions in America is a good thing overall. And in particular, it is not true with regard to religion. I admit that secular life hasn’t found solutions to many of the problems those who leave religion find. Nonetheless, I think I’m going to wait for them to find answers to modern problems with more modern solutions because they aren’t compromised by nostalgia and the wish to turn back the clock.
