To Hold a Temple Recommend or Not: That is the Question

By Anonymous

This summer I went to the temple at the invitation of my visiting parents-in-law.

My husband and I haven’t gone frequently in recent years. The last time I went was about ten months ago I went to support a friend who was going to try to decide whether to continue to pay tithing and to renew her temple recommend. This time I came to the temple facing the same kind of dilemma myself.

Over the past few years, my once good feelings about paying tithing and attending recommend interviews have gradually run dry. Now, my body tenses and shudders when I think of continuing to do these things indefinitely. What caused this? My children have had negative experiences at Church. They aren’t queer, though current policies regarding queer folks have certainly contributed to the repellent vibes. They just don’t feel loved there or like it’s a place they can belong. Church is not functioning well as a place to explore spiritual things. They understandably don’t like being told exactly what to believe or do. I can see how decisions made in recent years by GAs have contributed to their disappointing experience.

The whole experience of trying to raise them to be Latter-day Saints has left me feeling unheard, unimportant and betrayed as a “mother in Zion.” I was always told my role was so important, but I am treated like someone whose wisdom and insight is consistently off, and who actually doesn’t matter much at all. Local leaders haven’t listened to my input (and have sometimes chastened me for it), and the institution in general acts as if it is not responsible to reciprocate my decades of devotion.

I no longer feel good about putting personal trust in Church leaders or giving them money. I disapprove of the ways tithing is being stored, invested, and used. The resources are not coming back to help people around me or causes I care about nearly enough for me to feel committed to paying it at this point. While I still believe in the restoration of the priesthood, it seems to me this priesthood has long been exercised unrighteously, and the Church consistently fails to acknowledge or deal with this shadow side of itself. To echo a recent woman who submitted a voicemail to ALSSI, in some ways I feel like we’re being asked to live Satan’s plan, not God’s.

It was unpleasant facing such thoughts while attending an endowment session with my in-laws, to whom the temple is very important and helpful. I haven’t told them the extent to which my experiences have eaten away at my desire to be “all in.” They struggle to understand what I’m going through, partly because their children grew up loving the Church community and the gospel. Even though some of their adult children differentiated later, at least they had a decent chance to belong in the community and to learn the gospel in a way that worked reasonably well for youth during that era.

During the endowment session, I was troubled by the thought What would my in-laws think if they knew my bleak and cynical thoughts during the endowment session? 

I felt more mindful than ever of how the ritual revolves around male creators and Adam. Even after all the recent changes to the endowment, so little is given to Eve in terms of words or blessings. She functions as an appendage to Adam’s story, who is to be exalted higher in higher proximity to God as a male priest. Adam covenants with God, and Eve covenants with the new and everlasting covenant, which Exponent bloggers have taught me includes eternal plural marriage. Yuck!

I sensed Russell M. Nelson’s characteristic thinking in the assertion made in the temple narration that each of us can be convinced of the power and truthfulness of temple covenants through prayer. In recent years, I’ve had the opposite experience. Opening up more to our Heavenly Parents has led to spiritual growth and revelations that have challenged the idea that the temple provides the one essential spiritual practice or path to God’s presence.

Another line in the current endowment that was probably recently added by Nelson promises that obedience to covenants will yield spiritual progress. Does obeying and giving our all to the church actually foster the spiritual growth God intends for us? Certainly God’s commandments and the gospel do help us grow and live good lives, but many of us hit a point when the growth made possible by delegating the spiritual authority in our lives to the Church is spent. Continuous sacrifice and following leaders can start to do the opposite, leaving us stagnant, complacent, or stuck. If we want to continue to progress spiritually, we need to face life’s changes and transitions without leaning on someone else telling us what to think or do.

I’m confused why we need the endowment at all. I don’t think I need extra covenants beyond baptism to be committed to sexual morality, Christ’s gospel, or prudent, honest living. And while I resonate with the idea of consecration as a solution to the world’s problems, this is not at all what we actually practice in the Church. The wealth we sacrifice is not redispersed, the Church takes and takes while the funds largely sit there. Last year I spent a couple hundred dollars on my calling because the ward didn’t have any budget to provide for my calling area.

Other covenants are downright questionable, even cultish. I no longer consent to the covenant to give all my time, talents, and everything I possess to the Church, let alone my life.

Much of the content of the endowment was unhelpful or dissonant to me. As I went through the veil, I grieved for the peace I once enjoyed in the temple, and for the times I found the content more interesting.

In the celestial room, I prayed: God, help me know what to do. Should I keep coming here for the sake of my relationships? 

Faith in Heavenly Parents, Jesus, and the hope of healing for all God’s children mean a lot to me. I believe in the restoration; I love many of the messages of the Book of Mormon. The problem is how the Church happens to have turned out (due largely to what I see as chance foibles of human history). The particular version of the Church we have violates my moral conscience and can’t support me well at this point. It could have been much better. 

Something happened to me in the celestial room that usually doesn’t: God showed up. I felt the spirit as I prayed. Should I keep going just for the possibility of moments like these? 

After I prayed, I sat on a couch in the celestial room with my husband. He hugged me tight and told me he loved me. This brought back vivid memories of our newly wed days that brought me to tears. I fear what I could lose going forward. Should I stay all in with my practices for the chance at moments like these that tie us back to our first months together? I’m scared of losing his love and approval, even though I know it would be unfair for him to withdraw this if I make different religious choices than him.

Some nuanced LDS men seem to have an easier time than women like me at continuing to be “all in” without feeling too much resentment. Men’s garments are easier and cause fewer issues. And they sometimes have a very different relationship with money; they tend to earn more and some of them value paying tithing because it helps them detach from money. The temple is generally less oppressive to them. It can be hard for men to really understand women’s pain or to support their instincts to set firm boundaries with the institution.

I looked over at his parents. Only a handful of their children and grandchildren are temple goers at this point. I feel immense pressure to stay all in. Every time someone has had a faith transition it has caused them a lot of grief. How could I inflict this on them all over again? Family and the temple are everything to them. How would it change our relationship? Could my actions negatively impact their mental health or spirituality during their final years? 

My dilemma is not at all about what people at Church think. Just today, my bishop gave a talk about how it is time for the many slackers in our ward to pay their tithing and renew their recommends. Why should I listen to Church leaders if they won’t make any real space for women to have power or authority? Frankly, I just don’t give a d**** anymore. I know the leadership in my ward senses I’m one of the natural spiritual leaders in the community–one of the people who many look to as a role model and whose voice and spiritual support to others does a great deal to make our gatherings worth attending. I know they wouldn’t like me moving to the edge and might be angry or puzzled about it, but if I make the move to the edge, let it be a sign to them that they and the institution are failing to retain the continued loyalty of women like me.

My personal question and crisis all hangs on family. My family loves, appreciates and supports me so much more and better than the Church does. For me, family love is the great sacred experience of life. My in-laws’ visit was a highlight this year, a time my mental health was recharged by their loving encouragement and care. I don’t want my choices to hurt the people I love most. These are the folks I’d do just about anything to encourage, support and stay close to.

And their spiritual views and hopes are sincere. They deserve a better, more inclusive, ethical, and caring Church– one that our family members would actually stay connected to. One that would include our family members who have differentiated at weddings and rituals that are meant to strengthen us as families like the endowment. The broken and divisive temple entrance system is not the fault of anyone in my family, we didn’t create it, but we have become its victims. We don’t deserve to be hurt in this way.

People could say it’s not a big deal either way: Just bite the bullet, and make a choice. Or that the choice should be easy and obvious, but it isn’t to me. My heart feels anguish stepping to the edge due to how it might pain and strain my family relationships. And my body rejects the continuing to be all in because of the way it requires me to submit to controlling and unrighteous traditions. It’s a catch-22. Both feel like some kind of spiritual or emotional suicide: betrayal and division within myself or in my family.

There are a lot of vexing decisions to make as a member of the Church today, but whether to maintain a recommend might be the most difficult. The temple recommend system demands that we choose a side– in or out. Which side of our families will we stand on? This alone makes the temple recommend system spiritually and emotionally abusive. I hold the Church responsible and guilty for such unreasonable conditions.

There are so many questions I’m asking myself. Will setting boundaries with the Church prove necessary for me to forgive it and to heal such that this is the only healthy or viable option? Is my dilemma actually that important– are my expectations too high or idealistic? Is the urge to be a liminal member a selfish cop-out or a courageous, values-based instinct?

I’m genuinely not sure what path I’ll take.

Temple photos are from lds.org

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