Having spent my early years in the LDS faith, I can appreciate how certain ideas become integral to its adherents. I shudder to think about how that church’s very-unorthodox, politically-incorrect and unpopular themes became part of me as a child—and how difficult it was later, as an adult, to escape the dogma and brainwashing.
I know that most LDS hate the word “brainwashing,” yet I think the LDS church has made a science of creating and cultivating the beliefs of its children.
When I was growing up, the religion monopolized members’ free time: three hours of meetings on Sundays; scripture reading with the family several times a week; Primary Association meetings after school one day a week; and participating in a “family home evening” on Monday nights, complete with a scheduled lesson outlined by the church. It taught children to judge people on the basis of having a beer or a cup of coffee, made a standard demand of 10% tithing, taught kids that anyone who was “honest in heart” would happily receive the gospel and mandated annual interviews with the bishop to determine a youngster’s faithfulness.
I was certainly subjected to all the highly effective methods for creating children and adults who would blindly follow the prophet. (To the LDS Church’s credit, it has, more recently, relaxed some of its programs in order to accommodate the sometimes-hectic free-time needs of children.)
My mother, believing that church history was important, read to us from the accounts of Joseph Smith, his family and his early converts. But the early history of the LDS faith—its miracles and the people who launched it—created some real questions for me, and when I read The Godmakers in 1978 and became familiar with Fawn Brodie’s No Man Knows My History, it became an apologetic challenge to hold on to my faith.
While I could certainly appreciate that “Mormonism” offered some cultural and family benefits, I couldn’t overlook its origins or the credibility of its founder.
Several LDS teachings were most troubling. Perhaps the worst was the racial discrimination that prevented anyone with “Negro” blood from being ordained to the lay priesthood. For almost 150 years of its history, that policy was stringently enforced. Although all LDS youth were taught that the “Priesthood is the power to act in God’s name,” that every worthy male over the age of 12 should be ordained and that it was mandatory for entering an LDS temple, anyone of African descent was turned away.
That Black exclusion was taught by all the Mormon prophets that preceded Spencer W. Kimball. He rescinded that prohibition in 1978, stating that the correct time had come to welcome all men into the priesthood. Perhaps, only by coincidence, some sports teams had recently refused to play BYU because of the LDS policy toward Blacks, and the matter had become highly publicized in national news. Kimball’s reversal of policy had immediately ended the sports-team boycotts and, today, Black men may hold the priesthood, just like all the others.
The explanation was simple. The dark-skinned people had been cursed during mankind’s earliest days—a premise originating in the Bible itself. In reality, the Mormon Church’s policy had pretty much reflected the widespread White-Christian-American discrimination against those of African descent.
During my childhood, I was deluged with tales of the trials and tribulations suffered by the “Saints” during their early years in the East and Midwest, their arduous trek to the valley of the Great Salt Lake and their struggles against the U.S. government—which sought to prevent Brigham Young’s annexation of the Utah Territory into a Mormon theocracy.
I was also instructed, like other LDS children, that there would be some type of crisis in the world—an apocalyptic event—which would require all Latter-Day Saints, no matter where they resided, to return to what Mormonism’s prophet declared to be the original Garden of Eden, “Adam-ondi-Ahman,” or simply Independence, Missouri. There seemed to be a common belief that roads and other infrastructure would already be destroyed, so the Saints would likely be doing yet another laborious trek to a final home.
I don’t know what other LDS kids thought, but it was terrifying to me—the thought of being uprooted, losing our homes and friends, walking a thousand miles and trying to survive the new and stark privations of our lives. I actually contemplated that, if such a scenario arose, I would refuse to go. The mass exodus to Missouri was vaguely similar to beliefs of some of the so-called “doomsday” cults.
As a young priesthood holder, I was troubled about the obligation for men to have multiple wives. We were told by some that, while polygamy was no longer endorsed by the Church, the righteous would be living it throughout eternity. Women would likely spend the afterlife birthing endless spirit children—ones that would become embodied as humans when the LDS fledgling gods created their own new worlds. The men, of course, by virtue of their priesthood power, would hold all the authority and perform their endless husbandly duties. (Oh, what drudgery!) It was suggested that, since women tended to be better people, there would be many more of them in the highest kingdom of heaven. The resulting sex imbalance would necessitate polygamy.
Perhaps the most odious of teachings that some advanced was that all other religions—and particularly the Catholic Church—were of the devil. My mother quoted the prophets of Mormonism, referring to the Catholic Church as “the whore of the earth” or the “Great and Abominable Church.” Every time I heard those references, I cringed. It was repeated, time and time again, by the prophets and their battlefield underlings.
Today, the LDS faith has sought to at least pay lip service to the understanding that all churches can work together for the betterment and welfare of mankind. In reality, the youth of today’s Mormon faith have little idea of their church’s beginnings or the stark differences that divided their church from all the others. They’re still taught that theirs is the “only true church,” but their acceptance is assisted by their ignorance of what their church used to be.
To put it into perspective, the LDS church has a history of cult-like beliefs that have set them apart from the rest of Christianity. That included plenty of conspiracy theories, particularly because of Mormonism’s clash with the federal government. Early Mormons were taught to distrust the government, and many of the fundamentalist remnant groups of “old Mormonism” do not recognize U.S. authority.
The early Mormons had their own militias, and though not endorsed by today’s Mormonism, the “Proud Boys” style of paramilitary is very much an outgrowth of the belief that world conditions will imminently force us to become survivalists, and that the government is not our friend.
That said, it’s no surprise that Utah is a Red state, embracing the cult MAGA/Trump Republicanism. Much of it echoes the adverse relationship early Mormonism had with its neighbors and the U.S. Government.
A large number of Utahns are somehow able to ignore the facts—that Trump is crass, arrogant, dishonest, immoral, petty and sadistic. Yet they have this notion that God chose Trump, in all his patheticness, for our leader. Even Gov. Cox, once a never-Trumper, declared Trump’s escape from death as a sign from God. Instead of rejecting Cox’s assessment as delusional, many Utahns have adopted the idea that even filth can be used for God’s purposes.
Naivete reigns. And the sheep answer with a resounding “Baaaah.”
The strange beliefs of Mormonism make the Donald fixation palatable, just because it reminds Utah’s “faithful” of their own, defining belief—that only the LDS faith can save us, and that it’s always going to be “Them or us.” That lack of bipartisanism was a hallmark of Trump’s White House term. He created much of the deplorable division that continues to haunt us, even as the next election approaches, and now declares that he’s the only one who can save America.
If elected, Trump can only do what he’s programmed to do—fomenting more division and hate, and seeking to destroy anyone who disagrees with his direction. The notion that everyone else has to be wrong is not so unusual with humankind, but it’s definitely epidemic in a large percentage of Utahns who are rooted in that us-or-them philosophy.
Were Trump to be elected, the Constitution as we know and uphold it would indeed be “hanging by a thread,” as the Mormon folk tradition has been repeated, and the LDS priesthood would have to rush in and save what’s left of our sacred democracy.
Sadly, the notion that everyone else has to be wrong is very much a part of who mainline Utahns are. While that’s a trait that runs through much of humankind, it is particularly epidemic to a large percentage of Utahns who are rooted in the local religion.
The MAGA movement has done more to divide Americans into the “them or us” mentality than probably any other political surge in our nation’s history. Instead of a healthy understanding that progress can only be made when divergent groups seek consensus and cooperation, the looming MAGA Trump specter can only divide and destroy our nation.
Election day is coming, and Utahns, though it’s an enduring habit, can actually refuse to say “Baaaah.” Being a groupie may have worked in the past, but this time, we must rise above the ignorance of the flock.
The author is a retired businessman, novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife, Carol, and their adorable and ferocious dog “Poppy.”
