If, Then

There is usually a logical flow from evidence to conclusion in most things. For example, if it is snowing outside, then I can reasonably conclude that it is also cold; if my car runs, it is reasonable to conclude that there is also gas in the tank.

Truth tends to work in this direction. We observe evidence, and are led to the appropriate conclusion of that evidence. To get to the next step, the next piece of evidence must be found.

In the LDS world, however, I have noticed a pattern of misapplying certain evidences to reach unwarranted conclusions. For example, these follow a logical flow:

• If the Book of Mormon gives one a lot of strength in life, then it is reasonable to conclude it is a book that can lift one up.
• If the Book of Mormon teaches one to have more faith, then it is a wonderful book on faith.
• If it helps a mother to love her children, then it is an excellent guide on parenting.

However, even if all of the above things are true, it is not reasonable to use any of them to conclude that the Book of Mormon is an historical document, translated from plates of gold. Evidence that would support that theory might be found in archaeology, linguistic studies, DNA research on the claims of the book, and so on. Unfortunately, virtually all such research has failed to support the book as anything more than a product of a religious-minded young man living in a region full of spiritual debate during the 19th Century.

To read the Book of Mormon and like the themes, and even to feel good about the content, does not mean that it was divinely inspired. On the same note, jumping to conclusions about Joseph Smith based on unrelated evidence can be misguided.

• If Joseph Smith inspired millions, then he was a charismatic leader.
• If he converted thousands with his words, then he was a powerful orator.
• If he stood up against threats against his life and suffered through prison, then he was a very brave (or at least motivated) man.
• But it is problematic to use any of the above evidences to go beyond their corresponding conclusions and decide that they point to Joseph Smith as a prophet of God. Every chance that might have supported the latter claim has proven damaging to it; his purported translations, his private life, inaccurate prophecies, his unChristlike actions, etc.

We would not jump to erroneous conclusions in other areas. One does not propose to a woman simply because she says she likes kids. One does not purchase a house simply because it has a large garage. One does not purchase a car simply because it has a balloon tied to the mirror. One does not invest in stock simply because it has a catchy name. In each of these cases, one should do more investigation until the evidence leads to the appropriate action. Just as one would not fall to his or her knees and worship a television magician after a card trick, one should not conclude that Joseph Smith was a prophet or that the Book of Mormon is an historical record after feeling good about them. There are vital pieces missing in between.

Brief Update

I apologize to regular readers for the delay in posting. Other obligations have swept in and are occupying much of my attention of late. It may be a few more weeks until I am able to dedicate more time to this blog. Thank you for reading!

Pathology

For the past 7 months I've been working at the state's prison for inmates who suffer from a severe mental illness. All of the worst male mental health cases in the state's criminal population are sent to this facility. Their diagnoses cover a wide range of disorders including developmental disabilities, somatoform disorders, trauma-related disorders, paraphilias, mood disorders, and so on. Approximately half of the inmates on my caseload suffer from psychotic disorders (i.e., involving delusions and/or hallucinations) of some sort, including schizophrenia.

For example, I spoke with one individual recently who told me some about his family history and his experiences in life. For a while the conversation appeared fairly typical. But after a few statements, it became clear that the inmate experiences the world in very different ways than I. He began to tell me about his special abilities to heal people simply by being in the room with them, no matter how severe (e.g., blindness, terminal cancer, etc.). I learned about his abilities to read people's minds, and how he had raised his sister from the dead before. He reported receiving messages from the television set or radio on a regular basis, explaining his earthly mission to him. At one point he stated that he not only has a special relationship with God, but that he actually is a god with divine powers.

The interesting and sad part of the conversation was that this man was absolutely convinced that all of these things were true. He even told me that he had doubted his abilities at several points in his life only to have them "clearly" proven again. He was passionate and gracious about his "powers," and in another setting he might have piqued my interest. But of course, my prior knowledge about the man colored my judgment about what he was saying. To name a few things that discredited his abilities, (a) he was in prison, (b) he had poor hygiene, (c) I had seen his very low IQ scores, (d) I knew he was on several psychotropic medications, and (e) I have been nearsighted since the 4th grade and my eyesight did not noticeably improve when I entered his presence.

While I did not leave convinced that the inmate had divine powers, here is part of what I took from our conversation: It seems that strength of conviction does not necessarily correlate with reality. This man knew, by his definition of the word, that he was capable of supernatural things. But nobody outside of him had ever seen evidence of that.

I do not wish to suggest that true believers are delusional or otherwise psychotic, but I do suggest that if all of the evidence supporting one's convictions is internal (i.e., is found inside the mind or spirit), and the majority of external evidence, where available, suggests different conclusions, then it would be wise to question the internal evidence. That is, if everything inside of you and other believers confirms that Joseph Smith, Jr. was a prophet, but pretty much everything outside of you supports the suspicion that he was a fraud (e.g., significant problems with the Book of Mormon, unfulfilled prophecies, evidence of fabricating his translations, etc.), then it may be time to reconsider how accurate the internal evidence is.

In other areas of life, most individuals shift the focus when original convictions are continually contradicted, so why not in religion as well? If a man told me he had been divorced twice through no fault of his own, I might wonder what were his wives' problems. If he told me he had been divorced six times, I would probably shift the focus to him and ask myself what it is about him that keeps ending in divorce? Similarly, it strikes me as odd that the mountain of significant problems with the LDS church is disregarded. If there were two or three minor concerns about it, I could understand overlooking them. But after countless issues have been raised over hundreds of years about the legitimacy of the Church, and essentially nothing significant and tangible supporting it as God's one true and living church has emerged, is the locus of the dissonance with the skeptics who have been overcome by "the adversary", or are there real sincere problems with the Church?

Anniversary

Today marks the one year anniversary of the day I informed the ward bishop that I did not believe Joseph Smith, Jr. was a prophet, or that the LDS church held the truth about God and life. I admit that I felt and feel rather bad for the bishop. Our ward was being combined with another and the new bishop had asked me to come in to be extended a calling. We had never met before, but I felt that the time of transition would be less difficult for just about everybody if I informed the Church then of my decision rather than lying to him and accepting the calling only to ultimately inform him later. His reaction was about what I expected: shock, disappointment, subtle accusations, trying to induce guilt, etc. What surprised me about it was that I responded; I spoke up, and with very reasonable things to say. For most of my life before that point, I had been scared to speak up: often ashamed that I did not fit the expectations. I had felt that there was somehow something wrong with me because I did not believe with ease. But finally, at that moment, I had found my voice. I was no longer spewing out the expected answers, echoing the scripted responses, repeating with obedience the things that had always been rewarded. This time, I was saying what I truly, in my heart of hearts, felt about these things. I was finally being honest - with myself and with all who would hear me.

This is a change for which I have longed over the years. For far too long, I was torn between the fear of being wrongfully judged by those who would not or could not listen, and my own increasingly potent conscience. What a horrible battle it was! But now, finally, I can wake up knowing that if nothing else, and even if I have to stand alone at times, I am standing tall. The battle for me has ended the only way it could; I know that I am speaking and living authentically.

I find it a tragedy that the LDS church does not allow for difference of opinion in such matters. The members are taught that if an individual knows little of the Church and does not accept it, he or she "is not ready." And if a person knows of the Church and yet still cannot accept it, he or she must be deceived, must not love God, must be unwilling to show a little faith, or must be selfish and worldly. As near as I can tell, according to LDS doctrine, it is not possible for a person to be of sound mind, of reasonable spirituality, and of an honest nature and yet also disagree with the Church's claim to absolute divinity. It is impossible for one to simultaneously "know" he or she is right and also allow for someone else to dissent without attempting to cut down his or her capacity for seeking and finding unfiltered truth. The few active, believing members who do not look at me with condescending eyes are those who realize that they have chosen to believe what they do, but that they could also ultimately be wrong. Isn't that the more accepting stance? Isn't inclusion closer to Christlike charity than exclusion? Is it possible that I am not possessed by demons, that I have not been deceived, but that there might actually be some substance to my concerns?

Walking off the beaten path for the last year has not been easy, but I've gained new perspective on my surroundings, and seen things from angles that many LDS will never see. My biggest regret is that I did not step away sooner to find the path that I fit best, or to pave my own.

Ministry of Truth

Previously, I have used the writings of George Orwell to compare how the LDS church resembles The Party in his novel 1984. The Party is the ruling political body in the novel, which goes to great lengths to ensure that it will remain in power. For example, the main character is employed in The Party's "Ministry of Truth," which is actually a sophisticated system of literally rewriting the world's history. If the leader, "Big Brother," makes a prediction which turns out to be incorrect, the Ministry of Truth's duty is to go back to the records of the prediction and change it to match what actually happened. Thus, there is no contradiction on paper. The leader is maintained as accurate and infallible. And all the while, the governed consume the lies, either unknowing or uncaring that the reality upon which they feed has no substance.

How sad that the LDS church also falls prey to the temptation to change its own history. It is unfortunate that an organization that claims to have and promote truth in its purest form (I found the title of this talk laughable) continues to tell half-truths and allow its members to believe falsities about its history (examples here, here, and here). Naturally, the Church fears that people would be turned away from it if they knew the whole truth early on. That would be devastating to its membership (see related quotes here). But what about honesty, trust, and transparency?

Imagine you meet a beautiful woman. She seems flawless, like everything you ever wanted. When you're together, it just feels right. But for some reason, she won't talk about her past. She changes the subject whenever you ask where she grew up, or mention her family. She says she wants to just focus on the present. So you get married, and eventually you realize that she was concealing a criminal record, three divorces, and a small fortune worth of debt. Do you think you would have committed to her had you known the full story? Wouldn't you feel manipulated? Taken advantage of? Used? If she truly were an honest and trustworthy person who loved you, don't you think she would want to be upfront with you?

If the LDS church really loves its members and investigators, and strives to be a beacon of honesty and integrity, why does it continue to keep its history concealed, or allow the world to believe things that are not accurate? Doesn't it seem deceitful? Doesn't it seem self-serving?

Feathers

In Walt Disney's classic film Dumbo, a baby elephant named Jumbo, Jr. is born (well, actually a stork literally dropped him off) with unusually large ears, even for an elephant. These ears begin as a burden and a source of shame to Jumbo, Jr. But their true nature was hidden - the ears allowed him the gift of flight. Unfortunately, the poor elephant had been taught by nearly everyone else in his life that he was nothing, and so he doubted his potential. In order to build some confidence, Jumbo, Jr. was given an ordinary feather, unremarkable and useless for the feat he was about to attempt. However, he was told that it was a magic feather that would ensure his success, and so he made the effort and accomplished something he thought was otherwise impossible.

This seems to be a common characteristic of people as well; we tend to doubt, or even fear, our potential. Marianne Williamson (1992) captures this in the following popular statement:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

In other words, just like Jumbo, Jr. was capable of great things, but needed some kind of artificial encouragement, it may be that some of us need a gentle psychological push towards greatness as well. Click here for another example from Corsini and Wedding (2007, see p. 4).

In both examples, the subjects' abilities were unchanged. Jumbo, Jr. was always capable of flying, just as the inmate was always intelligent. The difference happened when they believed in their abilities.

I find that, in many ways, the LDS church (and many religions for that matter) similarly is the proverbial feather in the process of helping individuals reach their potential. If that were where it ended, I do not believe I would have much about which to criticize the Church. However, at the same time it gives people that extra boost towards appreciating their potential, I find that the Church too often creates dependency, essentially insisting that although we can achieve great things through the Church, it is only through the Church that these things are possible. For example, the LDS church would have the world believe that without it, the following are (at least nearly) impossible:

• True happiness
• A happy marriage
• A meaningful life
• Freedom and order
• A unified family

In reality, each of these can be found outside of the Church's influence. I feel that rather than telling us all that we have inherent divine potential, but without the Church we are nothing, perhaps we have great potential no matter what the Church tells us. With all of the feathers they try to pass off as magic (e. g., priesthood, inspired leaders, the Holy Ghost, etc.) maybe the real power lies within us.

Reference

Williamson, M. (1992). A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles. New York: Harper Collins

Undisclosed Motives

Over the course of revealing my concerns about the LDS church to its members over the past several months, I've received some very diverse responses in attempts to appease my inquisitive nature. Some of these were fairly decent attempts to make sense of the confusing doctrine and practices, while others were nonsensical.

For example, one of the most counter intuitive explanations for Joseph Smith's taking of multiple wives came first from a Stake President, and then from an Elders Quorum President. They both said, "Well, we don't have many writings from Joseph Smith on the matter, so we don't know why he did it."

In other words, having less information about it somehow strengthens the position. Really? If I were in the position they claim Smith was in - extremely reluctant to engage in polygamy - I would write down everything I could, explaining exactly what was going on, defending and justifying my actions. Instead, Smith hid his "divine" practice as much as he could, even lying about it publicly several times (source).

The fact that he did not journal about it extensively seems to hint toward shame, secrecy, and dishonesty, but certainly not transparency, obedience, and honesty. By all appearances, Smith hoped that no one would ever find out.

A believer may conclude that Smith must have been commanded not to write down the reasons (see Mormon 5:9; D&C 76:115). But then the argument goes back to the question of just how much a prophet should be allowed to hide from his followers.

I, for one, find it very dangerous to assume that the less information we are given, the less concerned we should be.