Exponent II's Blog, page 45

The 5 Stages of Religious Awakening: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Write a book.

I was 31, about 6 months pregnant with my third daughter living in a home and a city that echoed with the ghosts of polygamy. Our 900 square foot four-plex had once been a home to a man with many wives long before its remodel. My neighbors liked to tell me that their home also once housed another polygamous family and had secret passages in it for the husband or extra wives to hide in when the law came around. 

These weren’t weird facts to me. I came from a polygamous family generations before. My third great grandpa had 55 children. I came through his 8th wife’s line. This was “in the past,” and something our religion “didn’t practice anymore.” I was safe from this practice….in this life at least.

Many women and men from our religion know these facts (ad nauseam). We know it’s bad to practice polygamy now but that there was a high probability that our husbands could have more than one wife in “heaven” according to our doctrine. In fact, I would bet that many women from our religion have had the same conversation with their husbands as I had.

Me: “You wouldn’t have more than one wife would you?! Like, if I were to die and you remarried…you wouldn’t be ‘sealed’ to her?”

If you’re righteous enough, you too get to live like this! Whoo Hoo!

Husband: “Oh, no way…that would .. be ..awful to have many women in heaven.”

So, as I was living in this small space with 2 little thigh-high kids, husband working 16 hour shifts, 6 days a week, I used books and the newly invented podcasts that I listened to from my laptop (smart phones were new and I didn’t own one yet) to pass the long hard hours.

That year I read a book that many from our faith tradition thought was dubious. It forever changed the course of my life.  Rough Stone Rolling was a historical look at our religion’s founding prophet, Joseph Smith and was written by a believing member. It was dubious because the author/historian, for the first time in my experience, told the Mormon story of its founder without all the reverence and awe. Details that were once said to be “anti-Mormon” rhetoric, were actually true stories just swept under the rug in order to help believing members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints not lose faith. (Want to listen to a great historically accurate podcast and laugh a lot along the way?)

One story mentioned was about my fourth great grandmother, Patty Sessions. I knew this grandmother well, or so I thought. She was a midwife that was well respected and rubbed shoulders with all the “higher ups” in the religion’s leadership. I was proud to be her descendant. I had heard stories from my parents that when Joseph Smith, the founding Prophet, died; “many women were sealed to him.”

Patty Bartlett Sessions

“Oh, of course” I thought as a young kid.

“How silly these women were, but they of course would want to be married to the Prophet…”

However, this was not the case. My midwife ancestor was “sealed” to Joseph while he was alive, while he was married to his wife, while he was married to other girls, and while my ancestor was already married to her own husband. Oh…and her adult daughter married Joseph too…the same day. She also happened to already be married to her living husband. 

Whaaaat? Wait a second. This was now weird. Polygamy was to “help the widowed” to “give support to all the extra pitiful women roaming around without a man.” How was polyandry (married to more than one man) okay? (I hadn’t unpacked the double standard of being -sort of- okay with ‘men sealed to many wives and not okay with women sealed to many husbands’ idea yet). This, of course, is not the worst story of how the prophet pressured young girls to marry him. I learned many details about the practice that were very upsetting. The men violated the women’s trust. They mistreated their wives. They left their wives to take on new wives. They abandoned older women and illegally married teenage girls.

Somehow the most disturbing part was the close relation to my grandmother and the part she played.

This is an important detail to note. I read about many disturbing, true documented details in my religion’s history that I brushed aside. I couldn’t deal with them. I didn’t want to deal with them. 

Around that time I had an experience with one of my daughters that helped me understand myself a little better. It was December, and she had skipped up to me and asked, “Mom, is Santa real?” I had never wanted to give this imaginary man any credit for my hard work and loving efforts to give my kids gifts. I also wanted my kids to trust me and know I would always give them straight forward answers. I responded, “No, he is not real.” To which surprisingly my daughter then said, “Yes, he is!” and skipped off again with a happy giggle and grin on her face, completely unperturbed at my answer.

We can believe in anything we want to, despite the facts that lie before us.

I then learned that my four times great grandmother had written journals, and they had been compiled and published. I read them. I took notes. I read other people’s published journals from the same time period. I read modern historian’s research that compiled journals, histories, documents, and timelines that helped me piece together a clearer understanding of my ancestor’s cultural and religious history in a way that I had never learned before, in a way that my religion actively discouraged and even hid from its members. 

I buried my feelings on polygamy deep down. They’d resurface during Sunday school lessons where someone would invariably try to justify our religion’s racism, or polygamy. I would try and reconcile it all, only to feel angry inside in trying to make true the things that my gut knew were wrong. 

I wrestled with these facts my history brought me, but I was also inspired and impressed with my ancestor. The collections of opposing thoughts and feelings around all the events I had been studying led me to write a graphic novel about Patty Bartlett Sessions- Midwife of the Wild Frontier, my 4th great grandma.  Inspired by Sydney Padua’s graphic novel on Ada Lovelace, as well as the graphic novel Persepolis, I wrote Patty’s story in a similar fashion using her journals, adding historical footnotes to the bottom of each page. 

I wanted the complexity of her story to be easier to navigate than her actual journals. I wanted the experiences she lived to be heard so that young girls of my faith could see more of history. Not as the men in my church had curated it for us to interpret, but from this woman’s pen turned to picture, making a greater impression on one’s mind. 

I started out writing this book as a disgruntled believer of my faith. I finished it as one who had shed the heavy burdens of belief bit by bit, page by page, sluffing off ideas or doctrines that I now had a testimony were not true. I stood at the end of it all holding onto what I could claim as truth and stopped being angry by trying to justify and make true what wasn’t.

This was an eleven year process. Writing the book from conception to finish took six years. People have read it and took from it what they wanted. If it helped them believe what they wanted to be true, it did. If it confirmed what they knew wasn’t, it did that too. Then there’s the group that sees the nuance. It creates anxiety in them.

One such anxious person came in the form of an old boyfriend who in an attempt to “catch up on old times” turned our conversation into an interview where he was the priesthood leader/ man, and I was the misinformed woman who needed saving. I shrugged off his attempts to establish this influence he somehow felt he had over me until he reached out again. 

The second time this old beau reached out, he was very concerned for my salvation and the building up of the kingdom of God. He wanted to share his insight on polygamy and felt sure that what he had come to understand was more clear and correct than my personal study and insight. He was “all for women’s empowerment,” as he stated, but he failed to see that twice he had tried to dominate me and my opinion.  

This was and is my experience in my culture and religion. I’m allowed to study, research, and write but only as long as my conclusions align with the men above me locally and “worldwide.”

We are all aware that women’s histories are not well known. In fact, a writer, Celeste Davis, made the comment on her substack and in a conversation on this podcast ,that women keep reinventing the wheel. We women reach a certain age where we see things a little clearer and want to stand up for what is right, thinking we are the first to realize certain truths. Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, known for her great quote, “well-behaved women seldom make history,” wrote that she thought women’s histories were lost perhaps due to practical reasons: their journals got wet next to the laundry, burned in the fire for kindling, etc.

But the main truth behind it all, is that women’s histories have not been valued.

So, here I am. I started reinventing the wheel in all my research until I found other women’s research and other women’s journals. Try this one for starters!

I also offer my book to my own daughters and the women of my religious culture in an attempt to let them jump on the wagon that is already rolling.

*Thank you for reading Exponent II Blog. Please consider subscribing to our magazine, gifting a magazine subscription, or donating to keep our mission going! Thank you.

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I Am a Feminist and a Melting Latter-Day Saint: A Parable

This is a weird little parable about what it feels like for me to be a feminist in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints:

Witches are not born. They are made. Alchemy and circumstance swirl inside a woman’s blood, transforming her into something else.

A witch is melted from within. Her guts are singed to ashes. Or melted into scars. 

The incredible thing about a witch is that she doesn’t die in the flames that made her. 

Not all women stand in the flames; some women thrive in this world made by men.

But witches don’t. A witch has an itch under her skin. She walks in the wrong direction through the universe and matter rubs her cells the wrong way, creating friction and heat that burns and burns. The more this backward woman presses forward the wrong way, the more she ignores her body and the burning, bloody signs from within.

She wants to belong and becomes good at pretending to be like other women.

But an itch becomes a fever that becomes a burn that blisters and bleeds until she ignites. It’s an invisible flame only she can feel . . . and no one believes her, that she’s burning from the inside – that she wasn’t made for this world. 

“This isn’t right,” she says, “something is wrong.” But no one listens and there is no path or precedence for witches. It’s all been burned.

So she keeps walking the good woman’s path not made for witches. She learns well to ignore her body. She learns well that the universe hates her and burns her. So she stands in the fire where she doesn’t belong, where no one listens, and where people correct her and deform her because they can’t see the way she is melting.

They tell her God is a man and the universe burns inside her. They tell her God’s voice is their voice and her heart is on fire. They tell her they have the magic she can taste if she stands in the fire and burns away. So she does.

She’s disappearing and her tears evaporating. 

But then, one day she falls out of the fire, and no one notices. She lies on the earth, breathing and melted. It’s quiet out of the fire. It’s quiet and the witch is so tired from walking through the universe the wrong way. 

Smoke hisses in the embers and charcoal of her soul. While she lies there in the stillness, crispy and scarred, she realizes that she is the firemaker: she made the fire like a falling star through the atmosphere. 

The firemaker wonders why she waited so long to listen to the fire inside her body. Why did she push so hard for so long trying to follow men and women? 

She doesn’t know. But now she is what she made herself. She followed the wrong path for too long but she will be okay. 

Like a baby who does not yet know how to walk with the universe, she doesn’t know how to find her path.

All she knows is that she is so tired. And she can finally breathe.

*Thank you for reading Exponent II Blog, I love this platform that shares stories in an atmosphere of acceptance. Please consider subscribing to our magazine, gifting a magazine subscription, or donating to keep our mission going! Thank you.

12 Reasons I Hated My Temple Wedding

My temple wedding happened twenty two years ago between fall and winter semesters at BYU. Back then I pretended (mostly to myself) that the temple was great and made sense, but it wasn’t and it didn’t. It was confusing and uncomfortable and awkward, yet I thought the solution was to just go back (over and over and over again) and that somehow repetition would make it all better. 

Recently I watched a youtube video called “My Not So Mormon Wedding” by a woman who left the LDS church years ago, but not before almost getting married to a returned missionary in the temple. This video is a recap of her amazing wedding day to a non-Mormon man years later. Growing up as a little Mormon girl I’d been promised that nothing could compare to a temple wedding in terms of beauty, peace and joy – but my actual experience getting married there was a major letdown. It took me years(!) to be able to say that out loud, and after watching that video I finally feel ready to tackle my sadness and regret over getting married in the temple here on the blog.

I came up with twelve reasons why I didn’t like my temple wedding:

The temple was supposed to be the ultimate destination for my Mormon happily ever after, but I secretly wondered how that could possibly have been the peak of my spiritual journey I’d been told it would be. I was married in the smallest sealing room, and in my memory it was dimly lit with only a handful of people watching, most of whom I didn’t know. It felt very anticlimactic.I had no idea how to plan a wedding day or personalize it to what I liked. (I didn’t even know what I liked.) The ceremony itself would be in the temple, so I had no control over that and no idea what to expect. I’d been to a lot of wedding receptions, but only one actual wedding in my life (and just remembered being told it was sad because it wasn’t in the temple). I kind of went along with whatever other people suggested for everything – the location, my dress, what to serve to eat, and what the reception would be like. It’s awkward that everyone knows you’re about to have sex for the first time that night. What’s normally a private thing between you and another person becomes a public event and everyone shows up to shake your hand and congratulate you on making it to the temple (ie, not having sex until a couple hours later).I was already nervous enough about getting married so young when a female relative stood up and gave strongly worded advice to not postpone having children. She explained that she and her husband waited and then really regretted it because it took them so long to get pregnant. (Later I asked and found out they had their first baby after only three years of marriage when she was 23 years old!)During the ceremony in the temple, the only people wearing temple clothes are the couple getting married. Instead of feeling like the most beautiful person in the room at my wedding, I felt like the dorkiest. Everyone else got to attend wearing nice clothes and not get their hair messed up by a veil right before getting professional photos taken.The temple sealer asked us to look at him instead of each other, because he wanted us to listen carefully to his words and not be distracted. (I forgot literally every single word he’d said within ten minutes anyway.) Afterwards my husband mentioned many times how beautiful the blue eyes of the temple sealer had been (which was true – he had very pretty blue eyes). It felt a little weird though that what my husband remembered most about getting married to me was gazing deeply into the eyes of a very old man in a white suit.I had no idea what the temple sealer was going to say until he was saying it. I was expected to agree to something for eternity that I wasn’t allowed to look over beforehand and didn’t feel comfortable asking the sealer to repeat. It didn’t seem fair that my husband had already been to sealing ceremonies, so he at least knew what to expect. I was going into the whole experience totally blind – not only as the bride, but as the only person in the room with absolutely no idea what to expect.Out of our four parents, only one was able to come to the sealing. The main offense keeping them out was their inability to write a big enough check to the church to catch up on their tithing. I’m mad about this. A mother who worked long overtime hours to pay for her son to serve a two year mission for the church then wasn’t allowed to see him get married because they didn’t think she’d given them enough additional money since he’d been back. My parents were both converts and I wasn’t close to my extended non-Mormon family so there was no point inviting them to travel to an event they couldn’t attend. It wasn’t a family-centered event at all. It was a family dividing event.I didn’t get to have a photographer or any video of myself getting married. Why the sealer thought I would remember what he was saying in such a high stress moment just because I was looking at him is beyond me. Without a recording, I have no idea what happened all those years ago at that altar.I was trying to adjust to my brand new poorly fitting underwear, and picking wedgies in a wedding dress is extremely difficult. It was so distracting.I had to tell my husband my new name and let him act as my god and pull me through the veil to heaven. There was no reciprocity. I didn’t get to learn his name or do anything other than be given to him as his (first) eternal wife. It was a deeply uncomfortable level of inequality from the very beginning.Everything leading up to the wedding felt fast and rushed. We were college students and young, but couldn’t wait and plan a wedding at a more relaxed pace. BYU bishops are very worried about their engaged ward members making it to the temple and know that human biology is always going to win out over self restraint if given enough time. While the internet says the average engagement is 12 – 18 months, I believe I was engaged for about two months. Most wedding venues book months or years in advance, but Mormon weddings generally use a local (bland) church for free and are available with no wait.

I used to think it was great that you could get married in the temple and have your reception at a church for free – until it occurred to me that I (and my entire family) had paid ten percent of our incomes (our entire lives) for that opportunity. For the amount paid in tithing I could’ve rented a beautiful place, had the event catered and then gone on a nice honeymoon! (And no family members or friends would have been excluded.) It wasn’t cheaper at all. It’s fine to want to pay tithing – but it’s wrong to pretend that the temple is somehow a less expensive wedding option.

When I watched that “not so Mormon” wedding I was completely enchanted by the non-temple wedding experience that I was always warned was so sad and depressing. It was actually beautiful and romantic and personalized – everything that my own wedding wasn’t. With a dozen other brides getting married the same day as me at the temple, I’d felt more like a product on an assembly line than anything special.

If I could wish something different for the next generation of girls in the church, it would be that they wait on marriage and motherhood until they feel emotionally, financially and physically mature enough to do it (if they ever do), and that they feel fully empowered to have a wedding outside of the temple walls that feels right for them. We’re all different people and deserve our most special days to be as unique as we are.

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(Main image of the Bountiful temple from churchofjesuschrist.org)

 

Call for Submissions: Exponent II Retreat Blog Series

Have you been to the Exponent II retreat at any time since it began in 1983? Have you led a workshop or presented your spiritual autobiography? We want to hear from you for this new blog series!

While our website has the essentials of retreat cost and registration info, and the retreat facility website has info on lodging and how to get there, much of what has been written about the retreat has been published in the magazine and is either behind a paywall or not findable by search engines.

We want to record the retreat’s history and traditions and help new attendees know what to expect. You can write a personal essay or share a portion of a workshop or presentation you gave. Tell us about the fun, the ridiculous, and the sacred, while maintaining the privacy of other people (respect confidences shared with you and avoid naming other participants without their express permission).

Please send your submission to Katie Ludlow Rich at KatieOnTheBlog at gmail.com by February 10, 2025. If you want to share a shorter experience of the retreat (under 400 words), please email that and it may be combined with others on a shared post. We will start sharing posts for this series in February.

Between silence and screaming–choose screaming

Grocery shoppingVacuumMopVolunteer to cure ballotsClean out the garageWrite Exponent articleSpend an hour translating Hebrew homeworkFigure out how to safely get rid of old paintContact the thrift store to schedule a pickup

That is my to-do list for this weekend. Some of it is done. What’s left is just a few hours of labor, nothing too big. I don’t even have to leave my house to finish the list.

Yet even though it’s a long weekend, the tasks on that list feel impossible. The weight of the election results added to the struggle that is getting to the end of the semester and the challenge every time I try to engage my feelings with the church, and I am mentally and emotionally spent. I am numb.

You see, the real issue isn’t that to-do list. It’s the other one that’s always on my mind, that will never have anything crossed off, and the best I can hope to do is work through each task, bit by bit, trying to control it if I cannot resolve it. How, after Tuesday, do I stop myself from looking around at strangers and wondering if they voted for the man who doesn’t think I deserve human rights or equality? What do I do with the grief and rage and profound despair that I am presently holding at bay because I know when I stop, those emotions will crush me?

How do I stop feeling betrayed knowing that white woman showed up for Trump? Again? With the effects of the fall of Roe v. Wade crystal-clear in headlines?

I can’t put into words what I’m feeling. Instead, I’m using this space to share the words and story of a foremother. I’m reading “The Woman They Could Not Silence” by Kate Moore, the story of Elizabeth Packard, a housewife and mother who, in 1860, was committed to an insane asylum by her husband. Evidence of her insanity? Speaking for herself. Thinking differently from her husband. Challenging his autocracy. Refusing to be submissive to men. It’s the same sort of evidence used to call women hysterical, too emotional, mouthy. Unfeminine. Dangerous.

These ideas kept being pulled to the front of my mind this week because, well, women today who act like Elizabeth are still called those things. Women are still at risk for refusing to submit. We are still being told that men know what’s best, particularly white men who claim authority from a higher power. The details have changed. The story hasn’t.

“You have a right to your opinions if you think right.” (29) (emphasis mine)

Elizabeth’s husband said this to her as he was packing her away to the asylum. The ridiculousness of his statement would be laughable if he didn’t believe it, and the results of that belief weren’t so dehumanizing. You may speak, he said, but only with the words I give you. That makes her a puppet, not a free human.

How many times have I heard a similar message? Seek revelation–but only if it confirms what the church teaches. Ask questions–but only certain questions and there are right answers. Believe in Heavenly Mother, but do not make her the equal of Heavenly Father.

“A peace based on injustice … is a treacherous sleep whose waking is death.” (31)

When confronted with a mob at the train station, Elizabeth refused to walk. She did not put up a fight, but, she tells her husband, she will not help him imprison her. She would not submit to him. Two men carried her inside.

There is a well-known protest slogan: No justice, no peace. True peace cannot exist alongside injustice. It is not merely a lack of contention; this just means somebody has submitted. Contention is not always of the devil. There are things, I would argue, that our divinity requires that we contend against: racism, misogyny, war, violence and yes, injustice. Jesus contended against those things while on Earth.

“She truly believed ‘submission is no virtue.’ Another day, another chance to show that she was sane. Because she knew this whole enterprise was simply her husband’s attempt to ‘secure her submission.’ With typically shrewd insight, she wrote ‘that class of men who wish to rule women, seem intent on destroying her reason.'” (44)

Elizabeth’s first night in the asylum was hard, but she still believed she could make men see reason—if not her husband, then the asylum superintendent. Elizabeth was an intelligent, well-read woman who thought critically, asked questions and challenged authority. She claimed her own authority to think and act on her own. A woman making such a claim needed to be silenced. What if other women also started asking questions—asking why they had to obey their husbands, why the scriptures were always interpreted in such a way to make them second-class, why they could not hold the priesthood.

“Records show the women even made their own restraining jackets.” (68)

This is the line that struck me the most. The author pulls it out of the previous paragraph—just 10 words seemingly dropped into a discussion about how the women were allowed to sew. These women used their hands and skill to create the tools that bound them, that gave men power to bind them.

I ask you: how many women help to uphold the patriarchy? How many of us have? I have. I wrote an op-ed in college about how feminism was too radical because I perceived it as being anti-motherhood. I went on a mission and told women they really were equal in the church. I’ve taught lessons and given talks and wrote in my journal words that I wish I could take back because now that I have learned to think critically and not simply parrot back what was taught to me, I realize they are wrong. I’ve judged women for their clothes, their behavior, their choices.

I do not sew, but I arguably have helped to make my own straitjacket for years now. Removing it is requiring everything I have along with the hands of so many others who are slowly helping me to be free of the restraints I didn’t realize I had on for the longest time.

“Yet her feelings [of being alone, manufactured by the asylum doctor] were the fruit McFarland hoped to harvest, the censorship all part of his idiosyncratic interpretation of moral treatment. HIs idea was that once patients were completely isolated from family, as he’d instructed, he would then step into that void. McFarland thought the ideal way to treat insanity was for him to become ‘the dominant and good spirit’ in his patients’ lives: the higher power from which they were to take their every direction.

“Although leading psychiatrists advised strongly that hospital staff should not treat patients with ‘feelings of superiority,’ McFarland believed the opposite. In his opinion, he was the patients’ superior, and the quicker they came to appreciate that ‘his judgment is a safer guide for [them] than [their] own conscience, the better. He wanted the patients under his control to ‘shape [their] manner of living, in all its minutiae, to the hourly prescription of [their] superior,’ the latter a word he used interchangeably for doctor. This shaping of their lives extended to the clothes they wore, the food they ate, the activities they pursued, and–most chillingly–to the very thoughts they thought.” (97)

Imagine being told that you can’t trust your own sense, that someone else knows better than you about your own life, your feelings, your thoughts. Imagine hearing that God was not the higher power, but a man was, and what that man said should hold more weight than any other authority. Imagine having a man tell you what you could wear, what you could eat and drink, how you could spend your time.  

Just. Imagine.

“It shall be one of the highest aspirations of my earth-life, to expose these evils for the purpose of remedying them. It shall be said of me,’ She hath done what she could.’” (151)

I read this the Sunday after the election, well into the doom spiral. It gave me a tiny flame of hope amid the despair—hope for me, hope for the country, hope for Elizabeth. I haven’t finished the book yet; she is still in the asylum, still isolated from her children, still with no way out. But she has recognized that she is a threat to the status quo or the superintendent would not be trying so hard to silence her.

My benediction today: May you be a woman who cannot, who will not be silenced. May you speak up when you can and write the words down when you can’t speak. When you struggle to find the right words, use those that aren’t quite right for now.

Christmas content for Come Follow Me teachers, Ward Music Chairs, Primary Leaders, Activities Committees, and you!

Are you in charge of the musical Christmas Sacrament Meeting program this year? Or the Ward Christmas party? Or the Primary Children’s Nativity? Teaching a Come Follow Me class or giving a Sacrament Meeting talk during the Christmas season? Whatever your calling may be, we have a resource to help you get the work done and still have time left over to relax and sip your eggnog beside the Christmas tree!

Table of ContentsCome Follow Me Christmas Lesson PlansChristmas Sacrament Meeting ProgramsPrimary Children’s Nativity and Christmas ActivitiesWard Christmas PartyChristmas Sacrament Meeting Talks#LightTheWorld contentFind more holiday content in our archive!Come Follow Me Christmas Lesson Plans

Come Follow Me: Christmas, an invitation to come unto Christ

Come Follow Me: Christmas or Matthew 1; Luke 1 “Be It unto Me according to Thy Word”

Come Follow Me: Christmas The Birth of Jesus Christ: “Good Tidings of Great Joy”

Come Follow Me: Christmas with the women of the Nativity

Christmas Sacrament Meeting Programs

How to Write the Best Christmas Program Ever: A Complete Guide

A Christmas Sacrament Meeting

A Christmas Sacrament Meeting, the Sequel

Primary Children’s Nativity and Christmas Activities

Children’s Nativity Script

Christmas Series: Primary Nativity Program

Picturing Women in the Nativity

Ward Christmas Party

Christmas Series: The Best Ward Christmas Party Ever

Christmas Sacrament Meeting Talks

Christmas Series: The Parable of the Nativity

The Heavenly Host’s Challenge: Peace on Earth

#LightTheWorld content

Merry Christmas from Exponent!

Find more holiday content in our archive!

Find Christmas essays, poetry, devotionals, podcasts, theology and more in our Christmas Archive.

For Our Daughters film

https://youtu.be/IkES4X_qb6c?si=x3iqT...

Emeritus blogger Chiarascuro recommends For Our Daughters, a powerful new documentary that addresses the urgent issues facing women of faith in America. Directed by Emmy Award-winning filmmaker Carl Byker and presented by Kristin Kobes Du Mez, the New York Times bestselling author of Jesus and John Wayne, the film is a timely exploration of the intersection of faith, politics, and women’s rights in America. 

Mr. Reed from Heretic is Right: Polygamy is Mormonism’s Biggest Problem

This weekend I enjoyed watching Heretic. As a Mormon feminist, interfaith worker, and fan of thoughtful horror plots, this film touched on many things I think about regularly. It kind of felt like it was made just for me.

I won’t be spoiling any outcomes of the film, but I will share and discuss some dialogue near the beginning of it.

Mr. Reed, played by Hugh Grant, raises Joseph Smith’s polygamy as the first line of attack to antagonize the beliefs of two young adult missionaries. He is dissatisfied with the justifications they offer; he says polygamy has no spiritual value, and that Joseph Smith used it to legitimize extramarital affairs with women. Joseph’s actions, he suggests, are a prime example of the problem of mystical experience becoming dogma. He points out that it is hard to trust others’ revelations when people are so liable to abuse power, and how when you see human frailty like Joseph’s, it’s easy to give up trying to believe anything religious.

Mr. Reed is a horrible person and a psychopath. It’s cruel how he antagonizes the missionaries about their faith. Most of what he shares in the film is not challenging to me at all as a Latter-day Saint or a religious person. He’s a puffed-up, self-aggrandizing man with an intellectual air he uses to try to mask his underdeveloped dualistic thinking and shoddy arguments. There is just one topic he covers that genuinely does and should sting regarding the Church: his concerns about polygamy. Watching this scene at this point in my life, I honestly resonated with Mr. Reed’s take of what happened with polygamy and the dilemma it poses to believers. It makes sense to me that this is the very first thing he uses to try to break apart Latter-day Saint faith. I personally have experienced polygamy as the weakest link in Mormonism’s armor and its biggest ongoing problem.

Latter-day Saint plural marriage doctrines have a much bigger impact on women today than any outsiders would be able to pick up on from the film. The teachings did not really end near the turn of the 20th century. They are alive and well, harming marriages and girls’ well-being to this day. In the 90’s and early 2000’s, I was regularly taught at church that polygamy is God’s lifestyle and a more sacred order of marriage I must someday conform to if I wanted to fully return to God’s presence. Polygamy is still upheld as divinely sanctioned in Latter-day Saint temple rituals and scriptures. For example, if I die before my husband does, he could get married for eternity to another woman, making me a post-humous polygamous wife without him or the Church having any obligation to obtain my consent. D&C 132, written in 1843 by Joseph Smith as a message to his wife Emma and canonized as scripture, contains spiritually abusive passages in which women are treated as objects to possess, it is made clear women’s lack of consent has no power to set boundaries for men, and women are threatened with God’s destruction if they don’t approve of men practicing polygamy.

Mr. Reed raises the question how can we know if others’ religious claims are true? One of the sisters says that we can know by the way we feel. This dialogue made me think of my personal history of strong feelings about polygamy and resistance to accepting it as revelation. During the 27-year-long period of my life when I felt compelled to accept polygamy as divine, I experienced many miserable thoughts and emotions. I felt lesser than men, deprived of true sexual and marital agency, terrified of death and heaven, and unhappy about womanhood. 

I agree with Mr. Reed that polygamy is a strong example of the obstacles to trusting religious leaders that arise. When my belief in polygamy crumbled a few years ago, this jeopardized my faith and I had to grow and become more independent and nuanced in my thinking.

Joseph Smith’s polygamy continues to harm many people’s spiritual lives and emotional well-being. The problem is perpetuated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ refusal to do virtually anything–besides adding a brief note in the official handbook that God won’t force anyone to stay in an unwanted sealing in the afterlife–about the spiritual and psychological abuse it causes. People at church don’t teach it as much today as they once did, and rhetoric has softened, but the Church clings to unwavering trust in polygamy as a legitimate revelation, a legacy passed down through generations of Joseph’s (overly) loyal male successors (several of whom were polygamous themselves).

Unlike Mr. Reed, I’m not an all-or-nothing thinker about religion. I don’t jump to assuming the worst of Joseph Smith. I know from study and from life that some people are complicated psychologically and spiritually, and that we humans are not all good or evil or all gifted or flawed. When I consider his history as a whole, I don’t think abuse and broken trust are what Joseph Smith consciously intended. It looks more likely he suffered from disordered intimacy due to emotional wounds that he didn’t understand or know how to deal with, and that this led to self-deception about his behavior difficulties.  One reason among many others for believing this is that there is evidence he had rock bottom type experience when he regretted his plural marriage teachings and practices and felt he had been wrong about it the whole time, the kind of thing that can happen when someone has been caught up in addictive thinking and starts breaking out of the delusions they used to justify acting out.

Joseph Smith is not the first or last spiritual leader to abuse others, or to justify his abuses through theology. Martin Luther King Jr. struggled with sex addiction and created a self-deceptive personal theology to justify betraying his wife through repeated rounds of infidelity and preplanned penitence (I learned about this in How Can I Forgive You?). MLK’s life suggests that someone can have a serious intimacy disorder or be deeply self-deceived in one area and also be a genuinely gifted, inspired, and even prophetic leader who does good in the world that is hard to deny. I’ve sometimes have heard MLK referred to as America’s greatest prophet despite his issues. I see Joseph’s life as having a comparable pattern. Binary thinking about people and religion is inadequate to grapple with the real problems at hand. (For more about my perspective of Joseph Smith’s polygamy, see these recent posts in which I compare Joseph Smith and Jack Skellington: Part 1, Part 2).

Nuanced perspectives allowed me to weather my damaged trust in Joseph Smith. I continue to engage in Mormon spirituality because of positive personal experiences. Mormon community and practices have made my life joyful, fulfilling, and connected in many ways (minus polygamy). I have found many things about Mormon spirituality remarkably rich and emotionally and intellectually rewarding.

Some people like Mr. Reed think religion is about attaining correct, literal beliefs. This is the dominant approach to religion in the Western world. Since this is the water we swim in, we usually don’t recognize this kind of bias. In reality, what’s usually valuable about faith and spirituality is not having specific beliefs, but how it connects us to things that are greater than ourselves. I have valued Mormonism for decades because it offers me connection, belonging, and ways to create meaning. 

But the Church’s continued affirmation of polygamy as divine will, as well as other misogynistic structures, traditions, and policies threaten my prospects for belonging in the Church at this point more than ever before. Now that I’ve differentiated on polygamy, it feels like the Church is in direct opposition to some of the values and principles I now cherish the most, especially gender equality. During my childhood, when the Church offered a much richer and more enjoyable community life, staying involved felt like a no-brainer for me, even despite things like the polygamy crap. But the Church has now largely stripped its priorities down to temple worship, a solitary, silent, and solemn activity. It it currently letting go of most of its efforts to build rewarding local community life, making church less and less inclusive and compelling for women (and everyone) and less accommodating to women’s needs, values, desires, and strengths.

The Church has had a self-defensive, negative, and disapproving response to Heretic that I don’t resonate with. The official statement about the film says “Any narrative that promotes violence against women because of their faith.…runs counter to the safety and wellbeing of our communities.” This is a strange thing to say because the film doesn’t promote violence; it depicts it, which is different. Horror films are highly moral, and like most horror films, this one shows us the ugliness and evil of violence. The Church may claim to condemn violence against women, but this feels pretty hypocritical to me considering that the institution has chosen to perpetuate spiritual, psychological, and sexual violence against women for over 180 years through its plural marriage narratives and doctrines (I include sexual violence here because of the early days of women being manipulated into marrying polygamously, and all the instances in which the teachings have justified sexual exploitation since). For all these years, male authorities have failed to respond to thousands of women like me who have called out abuse and demanded change.

In another media-oriented statement in August, the Church said, “The true story of our faith is best seen in the countless lives of those who strive daily to follow our Savior Jesus Christ.” I agree with this, but the official, institutionally promoted historical and theological narratives nevertheless matter a great deal and play a major role in communicating the Church’s values and direction. The story of Joseph’s polygamy, which claims God demanded cruel and disempowering marital and sexual situations for both women and men, is a narrative the Church must become willing to adapt and reinterpret–with women’s contributions and leadership–if they are to move forward and become a truly ethical and accountable institution, one that condemns violence against women through and through.

Personally, I saw nothing that treats the Church unfairly in Heretic, and I think good will come out of it for both members and non-members, including a greater appreciation of Mormon women and missionaries and the challenges and vulnerabilities they face. I feel gratitude toward the makers of this film for bringing Mormon women’s issues, resourcefulness, and strengths into the public eye, and for how this film is a call for deeper thinking about faith and spirituality and also critical and compassionate thinking about violence against religious women. As a Mormon woman living in one of the most secular cities in the world, I felt very much seen by the writers. For me, the film affirmed the importance and the complexity of the difficult questions I grapple with regularly about spirituality, religion, and the meanings we need in our lives as I support Mormon women in my personal life and religious young adults at my work.

Our Inter-belief Mormon Communities Need Intentional Ethical Boundaries

The feature image for this post is a photo I took at work of faith symbols I printed as part of making a community garden sign. (Which symbols do you recognize?)

Interfaith communities support diverse worldviews and needs

Twice a year, I help coordinate an interfaith dinner at the university I work at. I invite representatives from over thirty faith clubs and a dozen faith leaders. Every world religion as well as secular viewpoints are represented.

At the dinner, collaboration and mutual support are the rule. Student leaders chat about ideas for joint events, faith leaders become friends despite their differences, and secular students and staff are just as involved as everyone else. There is no space for superiority or criticism.

We order vegetarian, halal and Kosher food. This communicates it’s okay that people eat different things just as it’s okay they believe and practice different things. We discuss how our office and the university can better support diverse communities clubs, both collectively and according to their unique needs. Another goal is for participants to learn and grow through dialogue across worldviews.

It challenges everyone to be surrounded by people whose perspectives are different from their own, yet participants come away from these events with a sense that all spiritual frameworks can be compelling and rich, and that there is great untapped potential for collaboration.

Nuanced Mormon communities are interfaith spaces that need intentional ethical boundaries

Online and in-person, many of us are engaged in what are technically interfaith Mormon-focused spaces. I’m talking about communities that seek to support people across the Mormon spectrum in their personal development and understanding of religion. We could also refer to such spaces as “inter-belief” since most participants share roots in and focus on discussing one branch of religion. Many individuals in these communities are practicing. Many aren’t religious. Others have transitioned to a different kind of faith or spirituality. Many others have unique combinations in between. There is great diversity of spiritual sensibilities and needs. These communities offer wonderful opportunities to hold space for differences and to learn from others.

Yet sometimes participants treat these communities like debate platforms meant for competing for vindication or influence. They might claim to discern the supposed core falsity or truthful certainty of Latter-day Saint faith, or invite others to deconstruct or reclaim religiosity. At times, they challenge others’ personal choices, or promote claims that religion is either all good or all bad. 

I get it. I feel pride or disdain sometimes when I engage with others’ thinking about religion, and part of me wants others to see things my way. It’s easy to get caught in such behavior when we want to feel seen. It’s okay if we have strong beliefs or if we feel like we really know what’s right or best for ourselves to uphold and value, but this doesn’t mean we can’t hold space for people who are different.

One thing we have in common is the desire to be understood and find belonging. In a recent comment on this blog, a woman named Amy wrote to me saying, “I want honesty and accountability from others in my relationships. I want to be respected for surviving a faith transition–not rejected and held as ‘less’ because I drew different conclusions.” How can we offer the equal treatment, space for differences, accountability, and respect Amy describes so well to each other? Mormon communities can do this by upholding ethical principles that guide interfaith dialogue, the same boundaries that make the interfaith dinners I help organize productive and positive experiences.

Boundaries for our Inter-belief Communities

To set the stage for ethical interfaith conversations, each participant enters conversations on an equal footing with others. Diverse worldviews, whether religious, non-religious, spiritual, or some combination, are treated as equally valid and worthy learning from. No one is treated as one up or dominant. Each conversant needs to come prepared to learn from others and to share their own understanding on an equal basis. One-way dialogue is not appropriate or effective in these spaces.

Certainty, superiority, and contempt can’t have a seat in our conversations. If community members take up stances of arrogance or disdain for others’ views, this diminishes the benefits of interfaith exchange, damages trust, and prevents goals of inclusivity and mutual support from being reached. At an interfaith dinner, what would it be like if someone loudly told others that they hold other certain other faiths or worldviews in contempt, or that they are quite grateful their family left a certain religion behind? Reformed Jewish individuals would never flaunt ways they feel superior to orthodox Jewish representatives, or talk about how they see orthodox practices as oppressive. Likewise, any Jewish orthodox attendees would never treat their reformed counterparts as fallen or depraved. Mutual respect for differences of identity and worldview is the rule.

To reach its potential, interfaith dialogue requires building trust through consistent respectful exchanges over time. Instances when mutual respect and equality are not upheld damage the sense of safety in inter-belief relationships and communities. Sometimes we need to deliberately recalibrate expectations and goals together and rebuild trust patiently.

Participants engage out of the desire to change and grow themselves rather than to change others. People come to these spaces wanting to learn, heal, and belong rather than to be indoctrinated or given unsolicited advice or wake-up calls. The best motivations to interact focus on our own learning and growth and our desires to support others where they’re at. What we share will have an impact on others and help them to learn and grow, but we only get to control how we want to learn and grow. The goal isn’t to all be the same or to agree.

Abstain from and guard against words that denigrate or dismiss worldviews and identities. Honesty and sincerity are important principles to follow in interfaith dialogue. This is part of how we build trust over time. At the dinner meeting, for example, It’s safe to share how you really experience things without being judged. A Sikh student might tell me about times when his practices have been disrespected at school, or a queer Muslim student may tell me about her wrestle with her community’s expectations. In our inter-belief spaces, it should likewise be safe to share our honest thinking. It’s fair to say, “I’m personally not convinced of the Book of Mormon’s divinity,” or “prayer means everything to me,” but it’s harmful to deprecate others’ perspectives. Examples that cross the line include: “Escaping this bull crap religion is the best thing I ever did,” or “why do you stay engaged here if you don’t believe our prophets are directed by God? Go find a different community.”

Suspend any assumptions that there is one right path toward spiritual growth, and protect personal agency. Sometimes community members engage as if the default direction for spiritual growth is religious deconstruction, while others have ulterior motives to persuade people to become more religious or orthodox. Many members of our communities seek experiences somewhere in between these paths that are complex. We are on many different kinds of trajectories that are all toward growth and that are a matter of personal, not community, choice. Authentic use of agency without pressures to conform to or please others is something we need to work together to protect in these spaces.

Don’t allow binary thinking to answer the big questions. The promotion of binary thinking–that is, logic that argues that “religion is all true and divine or it’s all false and fraudulent,” whether this is in favor or disfavor of religion–happens in our spaces. Binary thinking about all kinds of problems is common, natural and sometimes helpful. As Richard Rohr has written, “Binary thinking is not wrong or bad in itself…But it is completely inadequate for the major questions and dilemmas of life” (The Naked Now 32). When we apply all-or-nothing thinking to questions about life’s mysteries, it can lead to unhelpful reductive thinking and divide us. It can urge us to make big final choices on issues before carefully examining details or to cling to simplified versions of the truth. In nuanced Mormon communities, people are trying to do the very opposite of this. We’re working through highly complex ideas and histories as thoughtfully as we can in three dimensions. If people come to our communities sharing their binary thinking, we can gently offer ideas for integrating other approaches, but we shouldn’t buy into it or urge others to. I recommend Richard Rohr’s The Naked Now for learning more about binary thinking’s relationship with religious thinking.

Hold space for community members who disagree. As one example, it can be empowering and valuable to raise concerns about a religious practice, and we need to make space for such voices. Yet it is possible to criticize a practice in such a way that those who value it don’t feel there is space left for them to be heard or validated. It is a delicate balance. The most productive conversations use a fair minded approach that leaves space for counter voices to be dignified and impactful also. We should also be mindful not to label aspects of religious life as untouchable products of human vices (e.g. patriarchy). At an interfaith dinner, if I talked non-stop about concerns about hijabs and the modesty standards of Muslim and Jewish women and taught about how these things are connected with sexism, things wouldn’t go well. I would make others feel unwelcome and discourage them in personal practices that, however problematic I might think they are, currently serve important functions in their religious and family lives.

Maintain an tone that is affirming of diverse views and that avoids excessive negativity or positivity. Outside the interfaith lounge where I work, there is a sign that says, “this is a faith and spirituality positive space.” This message acknowledges that some people need safe spaces to talk about their spirituality, and that religion is sometimes disparaged; it sets a boundary. Like my office, many nuanced Mormon communities support people wherever they are in their spiritual lives, and need to intentionally affirm diverse paths. Our spaces shouldn’t be “faith positive” in the sense of placing pressure on participants to adhere to religious ideas or being toxically positive about the benefits of religion. They should be spirituality-positive in the sense of affirming individual spiritual development and authenticity. Communities should be safe places for criticism and negativity about religion, but if conversations where negative feelings and deconstructive thinking and goals dominate, communities can become catered only for some people while pushing others out or putting undue pressures on them to change.

Keep content high quality and inclusive, avoiding divisiveness and attention-getting. If the thinking, comments, or content we want to bring up are not high quality enough to benefit people inside and outside of religion and everywhere between, it might not belong in communities that focus on learning and mutual support. As we decide how to engage and what to offer, we can ask questions like Will this content be received as fair-minded and pertinent to the audience as a whole, or might it come across as arrogant, divisive, or biased by segments of our community? Is it provocative for the sake of getting attention and responses? Could it polarize community members, or invite them to show contempt for one another? Might it harm or push out segments of the community?

At the interfaith dinner, the food served needs to provide a full meal for everyone, whatever their dietary needs. Patterns of serving up comments, arguments, and sources that are only really supportive of one portion of the Mormon spectrum would be like serving a non-Kosher, non-halal lasagna at an interfaith dinner that only a fraction of the guests can enjoy. It leaves others feeling left out, unseen, and hungry, and they may stop participating. We should do our best to keep diverse participants in these communities because we will learn more, be more challenged to grow, and avoid echo chambers, biases, and blind spots. Deliberately speaking to a broader variety of people across the spectrum empowers us to have a greater impact helping the greater Mormon community and perhaps even the institutional Church move forward as one, learn from mistakes, and stay connected and in dialogue with each other.

Ideas for expanding, enriching, and improving our interactions and relationships

Much like after an interfaith dinner, I come away from nuanced Mormon communities with a sense of the untapped potential to learn more from one another and to collaborate more effectively. I’ll share a handful of ideas that go beyond boundaries to ways to expand these relationships and help them reach their potential.

We can serve as a healers rather than an influencers. To optimize the support we give in inter-belief spaces, we can practice moving through and expressing pain and/or whatever strong feelings we may have in a way in which we don’t inadvertently hurt or dismiss others. We can seek to become wounded healers whose sincere sharing helps educate and support others. When we share the things we have experienced, what we have learned, and how we have felt about it for the sake of connecting with and supporting others, we can normalize difficult experiences and help offer healing to them and to ourselves. Asking sincere open-ended questions and active listening are effective, caring ways to engage in these conversations.

We can seek to become spiritually multilingual. A friend of mine recently told me she can now talk at length about whatever others want to connect on whether they are religious or not. This took practice and was difficult at first, but she can now sincerely treat both religious and non-religious worldviews as valid and interesting. And all this has brought her a cherished sense of freedom to love, understand, and embrace friends and relatives as they really are, without trying to fully be on the same page as them. She loves her capacities to move seamlessly cross spiritual borders, and to feel at home in both territories.

We can directly communicate that we support others whatever path they choose. A couple years ago, I took a walk with a friend who was raised Mormon but isn’t religious now. While she is proud of her own journey, she also affirms that practicing religion is a compelling choice for some people. As I talked about my struggles with Church participation, she told me she would support me wherever my path led. If I stayed in the Church, she’d be there for me. If I left, she’d also accompany me. What she wanted most for me was for me to be true to myself and what I wanted and needed. Last month, she took time to tell me she admires how writing is an authentic expression of my spirituality. I felt loved and seen.

Seek to understand others’ experiences “from within.” Conversations in which we look for the strengths and beauty in other worldviews, and imagine how we would think and feel if this was our own perspective help us do this. Catholic scholar L Swindler writes “Each [interfaith dialogue] participant eventually must attempt to experience the partner’s [worldview] ‘from within’; for [spirituality] is not merely something of the head, but also of the spirit, heart, and whole being.” When religious individuals seek to sympathize with secular perspectives from the inside, for example, they may be touched and surprised by the unique courage, humility, and insights about religion and life this worldview may demand or offer. This kind of exercise can help us leave judgmental assumptions behind.

Lean into uncertainty and exercise intellectual humility. Leaning into shared lack of knowledge can help us foster kindness, emotional safety, and togetherness. While we rode the subway with our kids, a friend of mine who identifies as atheist told me her kids were scared of dying because they believed they would just stop existing. I told her my kids were scared of dying because they believed they would live on forever. We laughed together at our shared (yet also not shared) dilemma. I said, “Maybe we can all find comfort in recognizing that none of us know for sure. Maybe life ends, and maybe it doesn’t. And whatever it is, we’re in this together.”

Recently, my husband and I met for dinner with an acquaintance visiting our city who went through a faith transition in recent years and is no longer religious. He exercises intellectual humility, saying things like, “if there is a creator and an afterlife, I feel at peace.” His open-mindedness fostered an ideal space to connect. At the crossroads where spiritually diverse people all acknowledge how much we don’t know, we can feel mutually seen and understood. In such conversations, we create wonderful space where we can see eye to eye and speak heart to heart.

Final Thoughts

I dream of nuanced Mormon communities more consistently fostering moment like those above–spaces where we all can can grow and belong without words or intentions that do violence to whatever path each person is on. In a divisive era when perhaps the majority of us face some loneliness and depression, and when community connection and friendship are corroding, building inclusive and supportive Mormon communities is so valuable for all of us. I long for us all to enjoy belonging in spaces where friendship, support, and kindness come before any agenda to be right or influential. 

I started this post a while ago without politics in mind, but in light of the 2024 election happening this week, I’ll just mention that many of the principles I’ve discussed here are applicable to helping us overcome political divisiveness and move forward together. Refusing to treat others as inferior or worthy of contempt, acknowledging blind spots and uncertainties, seeking to understand others’ perspectives from within, and addressing problems and needs directly are productive, inclusive, and collaborative approaches.

For thoughts on general interfaith dialogue boundaries, I can recommend one of the sources for this post, L. Swindler’s editorial, “The Dialogue Decalogue: Ground Rules for Interreligious Dialogue”

Guest Post: Why I Won’t be Seeing Heretic as a Former Missionary

Main image: author Laura Parry on her mission in the Sure, Uruguay West mission, May 2005 – December 2006.

Two sister missionaries walked home quickly from their last appointment of the day. It was a dark winter night and they were eager to get back to their apartment. The rural street had few porch lights and only the very occasional bobbing of car headlights along the road. Suddenly, a man appeared and grabbed the missionaries.

This is not a scene from the new Hugh Grant move, Heretic, this is an experience I had on my mission in Uruguay.

Earlier that day, my companion and I’d had a great time visiting and taking pictures with members and investigators. We knew we were both being transferred to new areas soon, and even though it was not advised, we brought our digital cameras along that day to take some pictures. By our last appointment of the night, we found ourselves 15-20 minutes away from home, a walk which required crossing the interstate. While we walked, a man in a mask came running up behind us, asking if we had any money, and before we could even respond, he wrapped one arm around my neck, and one around my companion’s neck. He turned us around, back toward the way we came. He held a pistol to my companion’s cheek.

He started telling us a story about how he had 4 kids and he was an escaped prisoner. I don’t remember more details, but he was trying everything he could do to intimidate us. He licked my companion’s cheek. After walking for a while, he asked for our money. He let us go to get money out of our bags. Then he hooked his arms around us again and we continued walking. The road we were walking was raised, and sloped down on one side, leading to trees and shrubs as tall as I was. Our attacker stopped again and told us to go down into the bushes. I told him I wasn’t going in there, and that we were representatives of Jesus Christ. He pulled my hair and grabbed me from behind, and then started to unzip my jacket. He put the gun into my companion’s breast. He grabbed us again and my companion said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, leave us.” He started a little at that, but kept us walking until we came to a fork in the road. He pointed his gun at us and told us to give him our bags, and then he took off running on the intersecting road. My companion and I ran home, holding hands and crying, thinking about the terror we’d had for those moments and how it could have been much worse.

We made it home to the apartment above a member’s home. The member called the police and our mission president. I had 50 pesos and some teaching materials in my bag; fortunately I had tucked my digital camera into my coat pocket that night. My companion lost her camera with her stolen bag. I spoke to the mission president on the phone. He asked why we had our cameras, and I said, to remember the people here. He asked how we knew we would be transferred, and I told him we’d asked one of our leaders and he had told us we would be transferring. In my mission journal, I wrote the mission president, “kind of chewed us out” but I don’t know what was actually said. I believe it was advised, but I can’t remember for sure, that we not tell our parents what had happened. At the time, that seemed like the best decision to me. But looking back, my companion and I needed so much more support than what we received.

Despite our experience the night before, we went back out to make our appointments the next morning. It was a foggy day, which added to the eerie feeling we shared. We were both so jumpy, and frankly, traumatized. That would be normal. But the story gets stranger. We had assumed this attacker was just some random person looking to steal a few bucks. But during a visit to a less active member that morning, we met a man at this member’s house, who we’d interacted with a few times previously. He asked us how we were doing and we told him we were leaving the area soon, and he said, “Yes, it’s not safe for ladies out on these streets….” As soon as we left the house, I turned to my companion and said, “It was him, wasn’t it?” And she looked at me and burst into tears.  We both had a clear and distinct impression that he was the one who robbed us, that we could only attribute, at the time, to the Holy Ghost. In our minds, the mugging was targeted, because this man knew we’d been out taking pictures with people we’d taught.

The following day my companion and I were transferred to different areas. In my new area, I had a difficult time being out at night. I had startle reactions for some time when I heard noises while out after dark. My new companion wondered what was wrong with me. Beyond checking on our physical safety right after the event, nothing was done that I remember to check up on our mental health, or see how we were doing in the days or months following what happened.

Having left the church in the years following my mission obviously changes my perspective on my mission as a whole, and what happened during this event. In rereading my mission journal, what I took from this was a warning from God to obey the mission rules with even greater exactness. How not obeying with exactness led to the robbery. That I would only be blessed if I followed the rules even better than I was following them (which was pretty well, if I say so myself.) For me, serving a mission was a very intense time with lots of anxiety, and this event ratcheted up the pressure I already felt. If I could go back and visit my younger self at that time, here’s what I would tell her: “Sometimes bad things happen. This wasn’t caused by disobedience. It’s ok that you are scared. You don’t have to be strong and act like nothing happened. It’s ok if you want to call your mom and cry. (And you should be allowed to call you mom.) Your mental health matters and you need to talk to a professional about what happened.” While I don’t have lasting effects from what happened, I am not planning to see Heretic. Sitting in a dark theater for two hours to be reminded of how vulnerable missionaries are would not be my idea of a good time.

Guest author Laura Parry owns Roots & Branches Wellness, a counseling center in Lehi, Utah specializing in maternal mental health and couples therapy. She holds a Master’s of Social Work from the  University of Utah, and in 2019 became certified in perinatal mental health (PMH-C). In addition to helping clients through the perinatal period she enjoys working with those experiencing faith transitions. She earned a clinical yoga certification in 2021, and loves using the healing power of yoga, nature, and therapy for clients and for herself. She lives in Lehi with her husband, 3 kids, 2 cats, and 1 dog, and loves reading, hiking, and playing the piano. Please visit her website and Instagram @_lauraparry for more of her work.

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