I hate pedantic literature. I don't think there is anything worse. I mean, all literature, all writing, says something. It says something about the author, about the culture, about biases, about.... whatever.
Before I left the country for a year and a half, I read the first two books of the Christ Clone Trilogy. It was well written and interesting. The story was compelling and the characters intriguing. The story was a little irreligious; the premise is the cloning of god. It also messes with the judeo-christian myth, figuring god as a tyrant, and satan as a liberator. Very miltonesque, very turning your world view upside down. I really liked it, especially as I was doubting god, looking for alternative viewpoints, looking for explanations, for history. Even for out-there ideas. Dialogue. Anything.
The book takes new age ideas, a little bit of scientology. It places power with individuals. It takes a good look at the god of the new testament, honestly evaluates god on the basis of his actions. God of the old testament IS a bastard. He punishes people, he is fickle, he is cruel.
Well, I got to the last book. I was up at 2 am, when I should have been getting a good night's rest for my training the next morning. In a COMPLETE reversal of plot, a drastic shift in several of the characters, in a short shot, it comes out that our Christ clone is the anti-christ, that he is cruel. So after provoking thought, it returns all its readers that they are nothing without god.
As a lit major, I should have known this. I mean, we talked about it in my junior year with "the chimney sweep." Questioning the status quo as a way to return to the status quo; questioning so that the people CAN"T question; thinking for the people so that the people can feel as though they are questioning without actually questioning. Religion has used it, government uses it. It is the great evil institution of Marx.
I just find myself disappointed. It really upset me that a book, that a thought process, that a theory that points out some really valid points about christianity returns to the unthinking realm of "feeling." Well, if you feel bad, it must be god telling you no. If you feel happy, god must be inspiring you. Nothing you do or feel is your own power. You are all dependant on god, even for your own feelings. Individualism, belief in your own power, is bad. It's evil. Wanting to be a grown up, to think for yourself, is evil.
So, in Catholicism, wanting to be like god is heresy. In mormonism, wanting to be like god is required. I just don't like going through my whole reversal of religion in 3 hours of reading a novel. Maybe I should just stay away from those crazy evangelicals.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Prophets
The church magazines came in the mail today.
In good mormon homes, you sign up for three different church magazines. The Friend is for children, usually with stories about being kind to others or sharing. Occasionally there is a mindless obedience story, but mostly it is coloring and love one another.
The New Era is for young adults, focused on staying strong thru adversity and following the prophet. Most of the stories are chicken soup for the soul-esque, and strike me now as drivel.
The Ensign (pronounced both as en-SINE and EN-sin)is for adults. It is all talks from the prophets and the meat of the gospel. It has messages that home teachers and visiting teachers are supposed to take to their families.
As I was reading through the Ensign today, I noticed an article about how everyone's personal salvation depends on your acceptance of the prophet Joseph Smith. Some church doctrine even goes so far as to claim that Joseph Smith will decide who does, and who does NOT, get to pass into heaven.
So, apparently prophets are pretty important. And what's more, you get great checklists like this, from Benson, about the prophetic mantle:
FIRST: The prophet is the only man who speaks for the Lord in everything.
SECOND: The living prophet is more vital to us than the standard works.
THIRD: The living prophet is more important to us than a dead prophet.
FOURTH: The Prophet will never lead the Church astray.
FIFTH: The prophet is not required to have any particular earthly training or credentials to speak on any subject or act on any matter at any time.
SIXTH: The prophet does not have to say "Thus Saith the Lord," to give us scripture.
SEVENTH: The prophet tells us what we need to know, not always what we want to know.
EIGHTH: The prophet is not limited by men's reasoning.
NINTH: The prophet can receive revelation on any matter, temporal or spiritual.
TENTH: The prophet may be involved in civic matters.
ELEVENTH: The two groups who have the greatest difficulty in following the prophet are the proud who are learned and the proud who are rich.
TWELFTH: The prophet will not necessarily be popular with the world or the worldly.
THIRTEENTH: The prophet and his counselors make up the First Presidency--the highest quorum in the Church.
FOURTEENTH: The prophet and the presidency--the living prophet and the First Presidency--follow them and be blessed--reject them and suffer.
Mormons get really upset when you call them unchristian, when you say they aren't centered around christ or his teachings. Then you get lists like this and claims that Joseph Smith trumps the savior.
Mormons should at least be able to see where the rest of the world is coming from on this one.
In good mormon homes, you sign up for three different church magazines. The Friend is for children, usually with stories about being kind to others or sharing. Occasionally there is a mindless obedience story, but mostly it is coloring and love one another.
The New Era is for young adults, focused on staying strong thru adversity and following the prophet. Most of the stories are chicken soup for the soul-esque, and strike me now as drivel.
The Ensign (pronounced both as en-SINE and EN-sin)is for adults. It is all talks from the prophets and the meat of the gospel. It has messages that home teachers and visiting teachers are supposed to take to their families.
As I was reading through the Ensign today, I noticed an article about how everyone's personal salvation depends on your acceptance of the prophet Joseph Smith. Some church doctrine even goes so far as to claim that Joseph Smith will decide who does, and who does NOT, get to pass into heaven.
So, apparently prophets are pretty important. And what's more, you get great checklists like this, from Benson, about the prophetic mantle:
FIRST: The prophet is the only man who speaks for the Lord in everything.
SECOND: The living prophet is more vital to us than the standard works.
THIRD: The living prophet is more important to us than a dead prophet.
FOURTH: The Prophet will never lead the Church astray.
FIFTH: The prophet is not required to have any particular earthly training or credentials to speak on any subject or act on any matter at any time.
SIXTH: The prophet does not have to say "Thus Saith the Lord," to give us scripture.
SEVENTH: The prophet tells us what we need to know, not always what we want to know.
EIGHTH: The prophet is not limited by men's reasoning.
NINTH: The prophet can receive revelation on any matter, temporal or spiritual.
TENTH: The prophet may be involved in civic matters.
ELEVENTH: The two groups who have the greatest difficulty in following the prophet are the proud who are learned and the proud who are rich.
TWELFTH: The prophet will not necessarily be popular with the world or the worldly.
THIRTEENTH: The prophet and his counselors make up the First Presidency--the highest quorum in the Church.
FOURTEENTH: The prophet and the presidency--the living prophet and the First Presidency--follow them and be blessed--reject them and suffer.
Mormons get really upset when you call them unchristian, when you say they aren't centered around christ or his teachings. Then you get lists like this and claims that Joseph Smith trumps the savior.
Mormons should at least be able to see where the rest of the world is coming from on this one.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Dirty
There was a mormon video made in the late 80s or early 90s. It was a girl having a party. She prepared her immaculate house, and everything was white: white shirt, sofa, walls, floor. When the "wrong" kind of friends show up, they hug her, and leave black tar on her clothing. Everywhere they sit or touch becomes covered in black tar, and the video they put in causes the tar to ooze out of the VCR.
It is a poignant video on not associating with people whose values or belief differ from your own. Just them touching you contaminates you. It is disgusting, and they show this to young teenagers. It is violently graphic, and makes its point clearly: us vs. them.
I think I am recovering. I had a dream about the mormons, and my white coat was completely brown by the time we were through. I think the brainwashing is starting to go away when everything I was taught was good, my subconscious finally starts to realize it is bad.
It is a poignant video on not associating with people whose values or belief differ from your own. Just them touching you contaminates you. It is disgusting, and they show this to young teenagers. It is violently graphic, and makes its point clearly: us vs. them.
I think I am recovering. I had a dream about the mormons, and my white coat was completely brown by the time we were through. I think the brainwashing is starting to go away when everything I was taught was good, my subconscious finally starts to realize it is bad.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
General Conference
General Conference weekend was always one of my favorites growing up. It meant that we didn't have to make the early drive to church. It meant that we could sit in front of the tv in our jammies and huddle under blankets. It meant that we would have a relaxing Sunday breakfast as a family. As I got older, every conference weekend, we would make cowboy eggs (a concoction of eggs, toast, cheese, pineapple and ham. It remains one of my trustiest comfort foods).
Twice a year (the first weekend in April, and the first one in October), the church has a conference where the prophet and the apostles speak. This is broadcast to all the church houses all over the world. If you live in Utah, it is on local network television. There are 2 sessions on Sunday, and three on Saturday. They each last for two hours, and the last session on Saturday is only for the men, and so not broadcast.
I think the rule was we had to listen to one session of conference each day. We would mostly bring a radio outside for the Saturday session. We would play on the ropeswing, and the revelations of our living prophet would be our background noise.
On Sunday, we would all be passed out in front of the tv. Mom would make us get out of bed and sit in the living room. We would bring our blankets, and promptly fall right back asleep.
You'd think the word of god would be less soporific.
Twice a year (the first weekend in April, and the first one in October), the church has a conference where the prophet and the apostles speak. This is broadcast to all the church houses all over the world. If you live in Utah, it is on local network television. There are 2 sessions on Sunday, and three on Saturday. They each last for two hours, and the last session on Saturday is only for the men, and so not broadcast.
I think the rule was we had to listen to one session of conference each day. We would mostly bring a radio outside for the Saturday session. We would play on the ropeswing, and the revelations of our living prophet would be our background noise.
On Sunday, we would all be passed out in front of the tv. Mom would make us get out of bed and sit in the living room. We would bring our blankets, and promptly fall right back asleep.
You'd think the word of god would be less soporific.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Mormons hate Sundays
... they will never admit it. Mormon folklore has it satan tries to oppose the work of god. Satan does all in his power on Sunday morning to make it difficult to be where god wants you to be: church. Satan will stop your alarm clock, make you tired, make the kids whinier or hungrier or make you want to enjoy your Sunday relaxing instead of at church. Its most popular form in practice is the temple story. Allow me to demonstrate:
"I felt the spirit prompting me to go to the temple. I hadn't been for weeks, and my husband was too busy with work to go out for ward temple night. Every day that I planned to go to the temple, something came up: the kids were sick or my car broke down or my temple clothes weren't washed. I know that satan was trying to stop me from enjoying the blessings of the temple. When I went, I felt the spirit so strongly. I know that the temple is a sacred place, and we should all prepare ourselves to be worthy of its blessings. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
The reason this woman doesn't go to the temple is because satan doesn't want her to. Satan makes her kids cry or the car break down. Satan will use his incredible (apparently) power over people and inanimate objects. Satan makes her feel like she doesn't want to drive to spend time saving the dead (read: watching a two hour movie that she has seen several times before). Satan makes it so that she feels like she is wasting time, or that she would rather be with her family.
Satan makes it so that on Sunday morning she doesn't like getting her children ready to sit in boring meetings for three hours. Satan makes the kids complain, or soil their nice clothes before church. Satan makes her feel like she just wants to crawl back into bed, or have a slow, relaxing breakfast, or go out to eat with her family on Sunday.
Satan cares so much about what mormons do -- they ARE building the kingdom of god on earth, after all -- that he personally tempts each and every one of them to give into the natural man, to become an enemy to god.
Most of satan's temptations center on getting mormons to be more like normal people. It is natural that children cry when they are bored, that people want to make their free time their own. It is natural that people want to relax on the weekend, not spend 3 hours hearing the same things that they have heard their entire lives. There is never anything new. It is natural that people wouldn't want to go.
Mormons seem to forget that when you don't want to do something, psychologically you come up with any excuse. For me, I would always convince myself that I was "sick" on Sunday morning. I was so run down from my busy schedule, and it was only Sunday that I couldn't get out of bed. I had no problems going to school, maintaining a crazy work schedule, writing paper after paper, going out with friends. But on Sunday, I felt so "sick" that I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't wanna go, so I made myself sick enough to avoid it.
Mormons who talk about satan keeping them from church of the temple, tempting them to break the dietary restrictions or give in to their own natural healthy sexuality, they are just being more authentic to themselves. If you don't want to do something, you won't, or you will avoid it as much as you can.
This natural tendency to do what you enjoy and avoid what is unenjoyable is demonized in mormonism. Instead of talking about personal responsibility, they blame all their desires, all their "sins" on the seductions of an imaginary omnipotent/powerless being.
Being an athiest, I chose to be responsible for my own actions. It is not satan making me be bad or god encouraging me to be good. My good is MINE, and my mistakes are my own. It is terrifying for someone who has always believed in and depended on a higher pwer, but it is also so liberating. I am alone in my head, and I like the solitude.
"I felt the spirit prompting me to go to the temple. I hadn't been for weeks, and my husband was too busy with work to go out for ward temple night. Every day that I planned to go to the temple, something came up: the kids were sick or my car broke down or my temple clothes weren't washed. I know that satan was trying to stop me from enjoying the blessings of the temple. When I went, I felt the spirit so strongly. I know that the temple is a sacred place, and we should all prepare ourselves to be worthy of its blessings. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
The reason this woman doesn't go to the temple is because satan doesn't want her to. Satan makes her kids cry or the car break down. Satan will use his incredible (apparently) power over people and inanimate objects. Satan makes her feel like she doesn't want to drive to spend time saving the dead (read: watching a two hour movie that she has seen several times before). Satan makes it so that she feels like she is wasting time, or that she would rather be with her family.
Satan makes it so that on Sunday morning she doesn't like getting her children ready to sit in boring meetings for three hours. Satan makes the kids complain, or soil their nice clothes before church. Satan makes her feel like she just wants to crawl back into bed, or have a slow, relaxing breakfast, or go out to eat with her family on Sunday.
Satan cares so much about what mormons do -- they ARE building the kingdom of god on earth, after all -- that he personally tempts each and every one of them to give into the natural man, to become an enemy to god.
Most of satan's temptations center on getting mormons to be more like normal people. It is natural that children cry when they are bored, that people want to make their free time their own. It is natural that people want to relax on the weekend, not spend 3 hours hearing the same things that they have heard their entire lives. There is never anything new. It is natural that people wouldn't want to go.
Mormons seem to forget that when you don't want to do something, psychologically you come up with any excuse. For me, I would always convince myself that I was "sick" on Sunday morning. I was so run down from my busy schedule, and it was only Sunday that I couldn't get out of bed. I had no problems going to school, maintaining a crazy work schedule, writing paper after paper, going out with friends. But on Sunday, I felt so "sick" that I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't wanna go, so I made myself sick enough to avoid it.
Mormons who talk about satan keeping them from church of the temple, tempting them to break the dietary restrictions or give in to their own natural healthy sexuality, they are just being more authentic to themselves. If you don't want to do something, you won't, or you will avoid it as much as you can.
This natural tendency to do what you enjoy and avoid what is unenjoyable is demonized in mormonism. Instead of talking about personal responsibility, they blame all their desires, all their "sins" on the seductions of an imaginary omnipotent/powerless being.
Being an athiest, I chose to be responsible for my own actions. It is not satan making me be bad or god encouraging me to be good. My good is MINE, and my mistakes are my own. It is terrifying for someone who has always believed in and depended on a higher pwer, but it is also so liberating. I am alone in my head, and I like the solitude.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Repentance
I only really repented once in all my 22 years in the church. I mean, I had gone in for the yearly interviews, recited off all the expected answers (yes I believe that christ died for our sins and joseph smith was a prophet and the church is lead by god thru a modern prophet in our day. Yes I obey the law of chastity, the word of wisdom, the law of tithing). I once told a bishop, before I got my patriarchal blessing, that I had had some problems with masturbation in the past, but that was all behind me now (and it was. I stopped masturbating for--well, mostly-- for the better part of two years. I thought that I was being guided to get married in the temple and become a wife and mother in zion).
But then I reconnected with an ex boyfriend. An exboyfriend who I had loved since I was 15, who was my best friend for years, who saved me from killing myself several times over. He is a good guy, he is just not my good guy. Anyway, during this reunion, there was oral sex. I hated it (I thought I hated it. Maybe it was the guilt or the insecurities or the guy... whatever it was, I soon came to truly appreciate how great oral sex can be).
The emotional aftermath was awful. I thought god hated me, that I had lost my right to forgiveness, to blessings. There had been a fireside in church where there was a line graph of progress... it showed how little sins like lying set us back, and how bigger sins like sex were impossible to recover from. And especially in singles wards, chastity is focused on. You don't kiss, you don't make out, you don't sit with your date in dark places, you shouldn't be alone, satan will tempt you. There is a famous mormon book that asserts that it is far better to be dead than unchaste.
I cried. I broke up with the boy (for more than that, but it was a catalyst). I fasted for 2 days, and made an appointment with the bishop. I confessed.
During the interview he asked me how long I had been with the boy, how many times it happened, who when down on who, what was the duration, did I enjoy it, was I going to do it again, what did I think about it. I was horrified. It went on and on, and I couldn't even look up. I felt soiled.
Afterwards, I went back to my relief society class. I sat in the back and read my scriptures. I was there for ten or fifteen minutes before I couldn't take it any more and I walked out. I went home. At the time I thought it was because I was evil, that god was making me uncomfortable because I shouldn't be around the normal "righteous" members of the ward. I thought that it was a part of the repentance process, that I had to suffer.
I was put on probation. I couldn't take the sacrament until the bishop was convinced I had repented fully of my sins. Everyone takes the sacrament in a mormon church, and when they don't, everyone knows it's because of sin. And in a singles ward, the favorite sin of 21 year old virgins is pretty obvious. You aren't even allowed to masturbate or make out or touch a boob. Physical intimacy is apparently a threat to the church (married couples must put on the sacred underwear -- shorts and a tshirt-- after sex and before you fall asleep. If you fall asleep naked in the arms of your spouse, you are disobeying the word of god and allowing satan to have power over you).
I remember going the next week to sacrament. I sat alone: I didn't have any friends in the ward. I sat alone and read my scriptures and refused the sacrament. The next week I came; I walked in, then I turned around and walked back out.
I was so confused. I felt like god was punishing me, making me uncomfortable in his one true church. I wasn't worthy to be there. I was worthless and weak and sexual and had no self control.
A month later, I let another guy suck on my breast. I was so upset with myself. Why couldn't I obey god? Why did I put myself in situations where I would kiss boys? If I could have surgically removed my sexuality at that point, I would have.
I dreamed about how much better, holier, I would be without my sexuality, without any desire to be held, to be touched and kissed and loved. It would be so much better to be able to return to god... if I didn't have my rebellious body....
My favorite song became "Come thou fount of every blessing." The song says that the singers are prone to wander from god, so they want god to take their hearts and seal them up in heaven. How I longed for god to take my heart and seal it in his courts above. I fervently, frantically wished it, prayed for it, fasted for it. I visualized my sexuality tortured, beaten, bound and killed (I really didn't appreciate the sexualized nature of my imagery of getting rid of my sexuality).
I wanted to give up all my free will. My free will was getting me into trouble, keeping me from god. My free will was going to send me right to hell.
I didn't repent about the boob, and I didn't repent about all of the oral that came after. I thought that I was just giving into the inevitable take over of satan, that this was all a result of me not repenting fully the first time. I sinned, so god took his spirit away from me so I couldn't tell good from evil. So I sinned, so the spirit withdrew so I sinned so the spirit went further away. The scriptures talk about being past feeling, where you can't tell what is good and what is evil. You are past feeling, hard hearted, stiff necked.
I felt like I was two different people. I was being pulled apart, being split in two. I felt like I was going crazy, like I couldn't make myself a coherent individual.
For the next year, I decided to enjoy what I had. My roommate told me that having sex didn't make me a bad person, that sex in a relationship wasn't always bad. She told me that if this was the first time in my life that I hadn't hated (loathed) myself, that I should continue, that I should do what made me happy. But maybe I was just avoiding church because I didn't want to go through the repentance process again, didn't want to have that horrifying confession. I couldn't imagine going into that small office with my middle aged bishop, asking me probing questions about whether or not I liked it, about if I wanted to do it again.
I couldn't repent because I couldn't say that I hated it, that I felt awful, that I would never do it again. I would have to lie, and that was something I had never done outright to god or my priesthood authorities.
But then I reconnected with an ex boyfriend. An exboyfriend who I had loved since I was 15, who was my best friend for years, who saved me from killing myself several times over. He is a good guy, he is just not my good guy. Anyway, during this reunion, there was oral sex. I hated it (I thought I hated it. Maybe it was the guilt or the insecurities or the guy... whatever it was, I soon came to truly appreciate how great oral sex can be).
The emotional aftermath was awful. I thought god hated me, that I had lost my right to forgiveness, to blessings. There had been a fireside in church where there was a line graph of progress... it showed how little sins like lying set us back, and how bigger sins like sex were impossible to recover from. And especially in singles wards, chastity is focused on. You don't kiss, you don't make out, you don't sit with your date in dark places, you shouldn't be alone, satan will tempt you. There is a famous mormon book that asserts that it is far better to be dead than unchaste.
I cried. I broke up with the boy (for more than that, but it was a catalyst). I fasted for 2 days, and made an appointment with the bishop. I confessed.
During the interview he asked me how long I had been with the boy, how many times it happened, who when down on who, what was the duration, did I enjoy it, was I going to do it again, what did I think about it. I was horrified. It went on and on, and I couldn't even look up. I felt soiled.
Afterwards, I went back to my relief society class. I sat in the back and read my scriptures. I was there for ten or fifteen minutes before I couldn't take it any more and I walked out. I went home. At the time I thought it was because I was evil, that god was making me uncomfortable because I shouldn't be around the normal "righteous" members of the ward. I thought that it was a part of the repentance process, that I had to suffer.
I was put on probation. I couldn't take the sacrament until the bishop was convinced I had repented fully of my sins. Everyone takes the sacrament in a mormon church, and when they don't, everyone knows it's because of sin. And in a singles ward, the favorite sin of 21 year old virgins is pretty obvious. You aren't even allowed to masturbate or make out or touch a boob. Physical intimacy is apparently a threat to the church (married couples must put on the sacred underwear -- shorts and a tshirt-- after sex and before you fall asleep. If you fall asleep naked in the arms of your spouse, you are disobeying the word of god and allowing satan to have power over you).
I remember going the next week to sacrament. I sat alone: I didn't have any friends in the ward. I sat alone and read my scriptures and refused the sacrament. The next week I came; I walked in, then I turned around and walked back out.
I was so confused. I felt like god was punishing me, making me uncomfortable in his one true church. I wasn't worthy to be there. I was worthless and weak and sexual and had no self control.
A month later, I let another guy suck on my breast. I was so upset with myself. Why couldn't I obey god? Why did I put myself in situations where I would kiss boys? If I could have surgically removed my sexuality at that point, I would have.
I dreamed about how much better, holier, I would be without my sexuality, without any desire to be held, to be touched and kissed and loved. It would be so much better to be able to return to god... if I didn't have my rebellious body....
My favorite song became "Come thou fount of every blessing." The song says that the singers are prone to wander from god, so they want god to take their hearts and seal them up in heaven. How I longed for god to take my heart and seal it in his courts above. I fervently, frantically wished it, prayed for it, fasted for it. I visualized my sexuality tortured, beaten, bound and killed (I really didn't appreciate the sexualized nature of my imagery of getting rid of my sexuality).
I wanted to give up all my free will. My free will was getting me into trouble, keeping me from god. My free will was going to send me right to hell.
I didn't repent about the boob, and I didn't repent about all of the oral that came after. I thought that I was just giving into the inevitable take over of satan, that this was all a result of me not repenting fully the first time. I sinned, so god took his spirit away from me so I couldn't tell good from evil. So I sinned, so the spirit withdrew so I sinned so the spirit went further away. The scriptures talk about being past feeling, where you can't tell what is good and what is evil. You are past feeling, hard hearted, stiff necked.
I felt like I was two different people. I was being pulled apart, being split in two. I felt like I was going crazy, like I couldn't make myself a coherent individual.
For the next year, I decided to enjoy what I had. My roommate told me that having sex didn't make me a bad person, that sex in a relationship wasn't always bad. She told me that if this was the first time in my life that I hadn't hated (loathed) myself, that I should continue, that I should do what made me happy. But maybe I was just avoiding church because I didn't want to go through the repentance process again, didn't want to have that horrifying confession. I couldn't imagine going into that small office with my middle aged bishop, asking me probing questions about whether or not I liked it, about if I wanted to do it again.
I couldn't repent because I couldn't say that I hated it, that I felt awful, that I would never do it again. I would have to lie, and that was something I had never done outright to god or my priesthood authorities.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Turning and burning
Fire is a popular image in mormonism. The fires of hell, of course, but mormonism doesn't focus much on hellfire. Fire is associated more with the holy ghost, the baptism by fire of having a member of the godhood there to comfort and guide you. The spirit of god like a fire is burning, the latter day glory begins to go forth. The spirit and blessings of old are returning and angels are coming to visit the earth. It's also the refiner's fire: becoming perfect hurts, and it burns, and it stings. But the suffering in this life will lead to our perfection and exaltation in the world to come.
The bad fire is mostly associated with tithing. Those who don't pay a full tithing will be "burned at the last day." A lot of mormons refer to this 10% of their gross income as "fire insurance." Pay it and live, don't pay it and be burned alive. That is the loving god that deserves our respect.
The title to this blog doesn't come from that tho. It comes from Lady Lazurus:
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it -
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featrureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? -
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot -
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies,
These are my hands,
My knees
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everthing else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
"A miracle!"
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart -
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge,
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash -
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there -
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer,
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
I love this poem. The tone is playful and suicidal/homicidal/irreverant. Lazaruz as a female already turns the all-male bible into something that women can relate to. Lazarus in the bible was dead and called forth by Jesus. Lady Lazarus is called back by they... her friends? her family? Certainly, it is no deity saving her. She warns both god and lucifer that she is in charge of her own rebirth.
But it's this turning and burning that has defined my journey out of the church. Parents are taught that children are their opus... they are responsible for their children's salvation... the guilt keeping families in the church is incredible. Me leaving the church represents a failure on the part of my parents. Maybe it is because my mom died, because I wore a backwards baseball cap, because I read to much.... my parents should have done more, taught more, been more controlling... I should have gone to more church activities.
Leaving the church is not easy, emotionally and mentally. It hurts. I read my first accurate mormon history on the road between DC and delmarva. I was shocked. I was hurt... I spent the next year(s) reading compulsively. I love DAMU (the disaffected mormon universe for those, like me, who think damu sounds like a very odd name)... I am always reading RfM or FLAK or NOM. I need to know how other people deal with the ward, with their families, with the pain, with the recovery. I need to know why I was so faithful for so long. I need to know that I will not be eternally punished for having a cup of coffee.
My families concern is great... my grandmother had a talk with me, my sister wants me to believe in something, my second mother doesn't want me to throw god out with mormonism. I am not minimizing their concern. They honestly believe that I am sinning against god, that I am denying the holy ghost, that I want to leave mormonism because I am too prideful about my knowledge of the world (when they are learned they think they are wise and they harken not unto the counsel of god), because I want to have sex or drink wine. I am, like Esau, selling my birthright (my birthright, btw, to become a goddess, which in mormonspeak means endlessly pregnant baby making machine forever under the righteous dominion of a husbandgod I share with at least two other baby making machines), and I am selling my eternal exaltation for a bowl of lentils... or a really delicious cabernet.
My family is worried because they love me and don't want me to go to hell... and it is partly their fault if I do. I don't want to minimize or dismiss it. But I'm ok with melting to a shriek, I'm ok with with the ash. Cuz I will be ok... other apostates who have gone before me have proven that... life is better on the otherside, and more so because it is not imaginary friends (god/lucifer) who are fighting a microcosmic battle within you... it's YOU.
The rebirth isn't fun, but you get to find out what is on the other side.
The bad fire is mostly associated with tithing. Those who don't pay a full tithing will be "burned at the last day." A lot of mormons refer to this 10% of their gross income as "fire insurance." Pay it and live, don't pay it and be burned alive. That is the loving god that deserves our respect.
The title to this blog doesn't come from that tho. It comes from Lady Lazurus:
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it -
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featrureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? -
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot -
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies,
These are my hands,
My knees
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everthing else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
"A miracle!"
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart -
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge,
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash -
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there -
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer,
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
I love this poem. The tone is playful and suicidal/homicidal/irreverant. Lazaruz as a female already turns the all-male bible into something that women can relate to. Lazarus in the bible was dead and called forth by Jesus. Lady Lazarus is called back by they... her friends? her family? Certainly, it is no deity saving her. She warns both god and lucifer that she is in charge of her own rebirth.
But it's this turning and burning that has defined my journey out of the church. Parents are taught that children are their opus... they are responsible for their children's salvation... the guilt keeping families in the church is incredible. Me leaving the church represents a failure on the part of my parents. Maybe it is because my mom died, because I wore a backwards baseball cap, because I read to much.... my parents should have done more, taught more, been more controlling... I should have gone to more church activities.
Leaving the church is not easy, emotionally and mentally. It hurts. I read my first accurate mormon history on the road between DC and delmarva. I was shocked. I was hurt... I spent the next year(s) reading compulsively. I love DAMU (the disaffected mormon universe for those, like me, who think damu sounds like a very odd name)... I am always reading RfM or FLAK or NOM. I need to know how other people deal with the ward, with their families, with the pain, with the recovery. I need to know why I was so faithful for so long. I need to know that I will not be eternally punished for having a cup of coffee.
My families concern is great... my grandmother had a talk with me, my sister wants me to believe in something, my second mother doesn't want me to throw god out with mormonism. I am not minimizing their concern. They honestly believe that I am sinning against god, that I am denying the holy ghost, that I want to leave mormonism because I am too prideful about my knowledge of the world (when they are learned they think they are wise and they harken not unto the counsel of god), because I want to have sex or drink wine. I am, like Esau, selling my birthright (my birthright, btw, to become a goddess, which in mormonspeak means endlessly pregnant baby making machine forever under the righteous dominion of a husbandgod I share with at least two other baby making machines), and I am selling my eternal exaltation for a bowl of lentils... or a really delicious cabernet.
My family is worried because they love me and don't want me to go to hell... and it is partly their fault if I do. I don't want to minimize or dismiss it. But I'm ok with melting to a shriek, I'm ok with with the ash. Cuz I will be ok... other apostates who have gone before me have proven that... life is better on the otherside, and more so because it is not imaginary friends (god/lucifer) who are fighting a microcosmic battle within you... it's YOU.
The rebirth isn't fun, but you get to find out what is on the other side.
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