I am Not Your Object Lesson

I get second-hand embarrassment when LDS parents take the stand and openly discuss their disappointment over “wayward” and “inactive” children. Thankfully, the children are usually absent and their names are generally left unsaid. Still, their choices and their perceived sin is being paraded in front of a congregation as a cautionary tale. Faith-filled parents, often convinced that leaving the LDS Church is one of the worst things their children could do to them, publicly critique and mourn over their children.

I can’t imagine discovering that my parent was publicly discussing me in a way that distilled me down to a single part of my identity: religious affiliation. I could be accomplished, talented, thoughtful, caring, hardworking, and even happy, but these are all overshadowed by inactivity. In a quest to personalize missionary experiences and striving to live the gospel, children become object lessons of who not to be, choices not to make, and possibilities to fear.

How can this do anything but alienate and hurt children? No matter how softly or lovingly you say these things, they send a message that those who “stray” or make choices the LDS “we” disagrees with are fair game for public outing and critiquing.

A similar thing happens when speakers commonly discuss “those who stray” and give examples of their misery over their choices; othering and creating a “they” separate from those in the room. Speakers also love the phrase “you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t believe.” Both of these assumptions ignore the possibilities of those investigating, family members visiting (and maybe even the subjects previous object lessons), people struggling with faith or questioning doctrine, those who may attend out of family commitments, and more.

It’s odd to sit in a congregation and hear the speakers essentially discuss you/people like you – someone who may be considered “astray,” – as someone who is miserable, depressed, lost, and purposeless. They’ve distilled me down to one single part of my identity: religious affiliation. And it’s hard to imagine that they can see, or frankly want to see, who I really am. Because I am now, as before my shift in beliefs or shift away from certainty, complex.

We love simple stories that can be used to illustrate a clear message. Mormon pioneer tales and scripture stories are summarized into a few, basic paragraphs, with clear “good guys” and “bad guys.” People become uncomplicated object lessons to warn us, guide us, and help us stay righteous.

Real people, their spiritual journeys, their life experiences, and their personalities, can’t be summarized so easily. We are doing a great disservice when we use them, even in well-meaning ways, as object lessons or warnings for others. Publicly declaring assumptions, judgments, and unhappiness over someone else’s choices or behavior, especially when we tell one-dimensional, one-sided stories, is unnecessary and un-Christian.