It’s been over three months since I’ve been to church. It’s
not something I’m proud of. It’s merely a fact. A cumulative reckoning of the
Sundays I’ve spent not inhabiting LDS pews.
I haven’t been this discouraged with regards to my
relationship with my church since Elder Boyd Packer voiced the rhetorical “Why
would Heavenly Father do that to anyone?” in his conference address in October
2010 in which he challenged the existence of “inborn tendencies toward the
impure and the unnatural.” The timing was rather unusual for me. No more than
six months earlier, I had mustered the courage to come out to a group of LDS
congregants in a fireside address in St. Louis during which I was permitted to
discuss my experience as an LDS man living with same-sex attractions. It was an
acutely emotional experience, but a highly rewarding one as I felt for the
first time a community gather around me and feel their handshakes say “We’re in
this together” rather than the “We’ll never accept this part of you” I
projected onto them when I occupied a less self-actualized headspace.
After being treated to the view from that newfound higher
ground, I felt that ground suddenly become a shaky and untenable resting place
as I heard Elder Packer’s remarks echo throughout the living rooms,
satellite-transmitted broadcasts and conference centers of the millions of
virtually and spiritually connected Mormons that form the heavily trafficked
network of general conference weekend, a weekend when Mormons the world over
direct their virtual gaze to the former church president Gordon Hinckley’s
walnut-tree-turned-lectern planted in the church’s massive Salt Lake City
conference center for ten full hours of uplifting messages, spiritual guidance
and doctrinal delineations.
Not seeing any conceivable means of dislodging from the
collective psyche of dutifully conference-consuming Latter-day Saints what had
been placed there by as high-ranking a “prophet, seer and revelator” as there
was among the quorum of twelve apostles of the church, I prayed more fervently
than I had in a long time that God would make things right somehow.
The printed version of the talk was released and certain of
the problematic statements had been modified in meaningful ways or removed
completely. After several months of not feeling any desire to participate in
church, the hurt I felt had run its course. In time, I let my desire to be
reunited with my tribe overcome my fear of being othered by them. I went back
to church.
Fast forward to November 2015 when it was confirmed that
updates regarding same-sex couples and their children had been added to the
church handbook of instructions. A new policy would find members of the church
in same-sex marriages guilty of apostasy, a designation that requires the
automatic convening of a disciplinary council. Not only that, but the children
of same-sex couples would be prevented from receiving baptism and other rites
associated with membership in the church at least until the age of eighteen. At
that time those children would be required to “disavow” the practice of
same-sex marriage in order to qualify for membership.
I was devastated at hearing this news which was, once again,
inconveniently timed for me. I had recently accepted a new volunteer assignment
in the presidency of the men’s group in my local congregation. The new
assignment would take me a bit beyond my comfort zone in terms of how I was
accustomed to participating in the church over the years since dealing with
religious/sexual identity conflicts of varying magnitudes. It would require a
greater commitment of time and what I felt was an increased expectation of
exemplary fealty to the church, but having the support of my local leaders and
more than four relatively stable years of church participation separating me
from the deepest of the conflicts I had experienced made me optimistic that I
could function reliably in my new assignment.
That all changed however when I learned of the updates to
church policy. What seemed to me as a twin set of unnecessarily austere
pronouncements had me reeling particularly when I considered those of my
friends who would be directly affected by the changes. I never anticipated that
the church would abandon its exclusive support of heterosexual marriage, and
yet I never imagined we would go to such lengths to enact policies which will,
I believe, greatly hinder our ability to effectively minister to same-sex
couples and their children.
Subsequent justifications of the policy that came from
church leaders did little to assuage my concerns. If anything, the conflict was
made more acute by those explanations. I expressed my concerns to several of my
local church leaders in writing, over lunch and in private meetings in church
offices. During those exchanges, I was grateful to be treated to genuine empathy
from my leaders; however, I no longer felt that I could meet the requirements
of serving as a volunteer in the church. Additionally, continued church
attendance made me feel somehow complicit in fueling a conflict that was now
reaching a fever pitch inside of me.
Answers to prayers have not come as readily as they did in
2010 when portions of Elder Packer’s talk were summarily edited out of the
written transcription and consequently out of my system. I still have to deal
somehow with the fact that these new policy changes are taking up precious
ministerial real estate on the pages of a handbook belonging to every
priesthood leader in the church.
For me, Mormonism was and continues to be the most familiar
and most powerful means I have for connecting my life to some larger purpose.
Being a Mormon is a bit like being connected to a giant computer network. There
are tremendous advantages to being plugged into something that big. Disconnect
from all of that and it’s easy to start to feel desperate and alone.
Have you ever gone off the grid? Deprived yourself of
technology for a day or two? Then you might know something about what I’m
experiencing right now. You don’t realize how much you depend on that
connection until it’s gone and your fingers start twitching with eagerness for
some shiny surface to swipe, scroll or stream something with.
I never wanted to have to try to find meaning in life
outside of my native Mormonism, but if I am to find meaning in life and I
cannot feel belonging among my church’s policies, then I must try. To not do so
would be to waste this present chapter of life.
I was recently without internet for a week at home because
my modem went kaput, to use the technical term. I could text and make phone
calls, but there was no network available for me to be able to connect my phone
or computer to the host of media I was used to accessing at home. After two
days, I already felt myself experiencing serious withdrawals. I texted my
friend Brien looking for someone who could commiserate.
Adam: “My internet has been out for two days. They can’t
send a technician till Wednesday. I won’t have internet until Wednesday!”
Brien: “They have these things called books. I hear they can
entertain in a pinch.”
Adam: “I can see I’m not going to get any sympathy from
you.”
Brien: “Sorry.”
Those of you acquainted with Brien will recognize his
characteristic snark, but his suggestion caused me to see my situation in a
different light. Whereas I couldn’t get my mind off of all the internet-blessed
activities I was missing out on, Brien saw an opportunity for me to connect
with something else. Going off the grid can be unfamiliar and uncomfortable,
but maybe unplugging also allows you the space to tap into something you
wouldn’t have been able to pick up on otherwise. Maybe clearing your bandwidth
of an intimately familiar thing frees space for productive synthesis with a
lesser known but potentially quite meaningful thing. It had actually been quite
a while since I had set apart any time to consider doing something as non-technological
as read a book. I’ve thought about how my present distance from the church may
serve a similar purpose.
Maybe I will find something there, in the quiet
unfamiliarity. Or maybe I’ll just go crazy living off the grid. Maybe I will
find something more sustainable in a narrower bandwidth. Or maybe my poor
shoulder just needs a break before it is put to anymore wheels. If I do end up
getting plugged back into my home network, I can only hope that something about
the architecture will have changed which would encourage a more stable
connection. In the meantime, I’m going to take the time to read a book or two.
Perhaps I’ll even end up writing one of my own.
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