His funeral was not your typical service. The floor was opened for his friends to comment on his life. His sons told stories of fishing, hunting, camping, and growing up in the Pacific Northwest Mountains and forests. His friends, the ones from work and the bar, told of racing cars late at night, sneaking in late after a night out with the buddies, and enjoying the lifestyle they shared at hunting camp and opening weekend of fishing season. People laughed at the stories, tears were shed, and the memories repeated were heart-warming for those who shared.
Then the church stepped in.
The local Bishop, who had clashed over the years with this man, got up and called those in attendance to repentance. He started in on the plan of salvation story, about how each of us chose where we would come to earth, and how that choice led them to the services today. How, although Mr X was a nice man who enjoyed the things of the world, he was not truly happy because he didn’t live the gospel. And those who shared his wordly experiences with him are not truly happy due to their rejection of the Church’ and Christ’s covenants.
He closed with two scriptures about being in the world but not of the world, and told those who knew Mr X that the thing he would want, now that he was on the other side and saw the errors of his ways, would be for his friends to embrace the gospel.
He closed with his testimony. As a final salvo he changed the closing song from one that was to be sung by his sons, to ‘I Believe in Christ’. He invited the sons to sing the prepared song at the cemetery instead.
You can imagine the shock and outrage that was felt by those in attendance. As soon as the closing prayer was finished, the chapel emptied out in record time. The guests who came and shared their stories gathered out front and loudly expressed their anger and feelings at the Bishop who was waiting by the hearse. The Bishop continued to repeat that they need to take what he said to heart and that someday they will understand his message.
Many of those who were going to attend the graveside service instead went to Mr X’s favorite watering hole and held an impromptu service in his memory instead. Those who went to the cemetery returned to the church and enjoyed a lunch of ham, funeral potatoes, rolls, and water.
A good day was ruined by a pompous Bishop with an axe to grind. And any possible goodwill was destroyed in a matter of minutes.
Keep up the good work you Bishop in Oregon. With leaders like you the church will cease to grow and Salt Lake will wonder why. And we’ll rejoice. The Drive, board post 27th August 2009, ‘Thanks for Ruining a Good Funeral’
So into the house they came, looking decidedly uncomfortable and started to ask how I was. I told them I was great. Best I’d ever been. One of them said she couldn’t believe that. Hadn’t I been missing ‘the fellowship of the sisters’ and what about my toddler? Was I aware that they learned more in the first five years of their life than at any time? Then, I kid you not, they asked me if I was feeling any guilt and did I need to repent of anything? They even told me that my name had come up in a couple of meetings and was there anything they could do to get me back to church. I was so angry, how dare they just discuss me like they had some right to. I have noticed that when members are in any position, be it bishop, stake pres right down to visiting teacher they think it gives them the right to do or say anything. To think I used to take all that.
Well I just lost it. I feel ashamed for losing my temper, but I couldn’t help it. I told them how I’ve never experienced such peace as I feel now. I love spending Sundays with my non-member husband and how I have always felt that the women at church were judgmental, self-righteous bigots and the men were just as bad. pretty amazed, edited board post, ‘How Much Worse Can It Get?’
Here’s what bothered me: As I left the fireside, my seminary teacher approached me. He told me how great he thought it was that I had ‘felt the Spirit so strongly’. Having just thought about how I had felt a surge of sisterly love, my seminary teacher’s re-defining of the experience was rather jarring. I felt like he was defining, circumscribing, and interpreting my feelings for me. My first response was surprise. I was not emotionally or spiritually close to this man. He knew relatively little about me. However, he felt it was appropriate for him to explain my own feelings to me.
I have had other experiences where church leaders, male and female, took it upon themselves to define my emotions for me. Sometimes I went along with them. Other times I was struck by how different their interpretations were from my own. Part of my journey out of the Mormon Church involved taking responsibility for my own feelings (and their consequences). I believe that throughout my childhood years, my church leaders and teachers were trying to convince me to give them (and, by extension, the church) the control to define who I am and what I can feel. smo, board post, ‘Church Leaders Defining Emotions for Others’
The correlation committee also spread its umbrella over other organizations that were previously independent (at least to some degree). The Relief Society, Sunday School, and YM/YW organizations were brought under direct supervision of this committee. All lesson manuals had to be approved for content by the committee. The Relief Society and Priesthood use the exact same manual. All Sunday School classes use the exact same manual. The least common denominator for the lessons has effectively thinned down the content to such an extent that long time adult members are pretty much bored to tears now. fh451, board post 11th May 2006, ‘How is Correlation Bad?’
Bishop introduces himself and then the other two stooges. I was so pissed I just asked what they wanted. He said and I quote, ‘To be honest I want to know why you are not coming to church with your family.
‘I want to know why you as two return missionaries do not pay tithing. Why I see tea on your car bumper (I was drinking a Lipton green tea). I want to know why the primary, scouts, relief society, and young women’s never get so much as a response to their emails.
‘I want to know why you are so secretive with your phone number. I want to know why your daughter is 14 and has never been interviewed or go to Young Women’s.’ Well I just ignored him and there was this long silence that seemed to go on for hours but the one guy you can tell he must be a rookie started trying to talk to my youngest about his Xmas presents.
I do not know if it is my daughter’s illness that has made me so focused on how full of shit religion is or if it is just coming out of the cult that has done it but I just asked him when he looked at me waiting for an answer. ‘Do you have a warrant?’
‘Can you quote me the state law that requires me to answer you?’ – again long silence.
He said ‘excuse me?’ I said, ‘No you are not excused – you don’t even know me. I have never been to your ward.
‘I do not owe you jack shit of an excuse.’ I told him of our plan to resign and I let him know I felt he was totally disrespectful.
He said well here is my number, have your husband call me. Which of course he won’t.
Oh I am so upset at myself that I did not just lay into him.
I had so much I wanted to say because I knew I just knew that someone was going to show up. awake now, board post 27th December 2008, ‘Bishopric Just Showed Up’
The licked cupcakes in the chastity lesson always represented females. In Young Women’s, the cupcakes represented us – we didn’t want to be a licked cupcake. No-one wants a cupcake licked by someone else.
In Young Men’s, the cupcakes also represented girls. You boys were taught not to lick cupcakes that weren't yours. No-one else wants a licked cupcake, and neither do you.
Never once was I told that boys could be licked cupcakes. Never. What boys did was, I guess, none of our business. All we girls knew was not to let boys lick our cupcakes, or no one would want us. The burden of chastity was ours to bear, and the prospects of forgiveness for failure were grim …
And as for the pompous pricks in Salt Lake City, ‘The Brethren’, they don’t respect women. They’re misogynistic assholes. Men who respect women don’t tell them how many earrings they can wear! They don’t shame men for marrying women more educated than themselves. They don’t seal themselves to other women after their long-suffering wives die, becoming eternal polygamists. They don’t tell young girls, contrary to the best interest of their families, to have babies before they’re finished with school. I can’t stand those lying bastards! If I could, I’d fly to Salt Lake and kick Hinckley’s wrinkly, incontinent ass! KimberleyAnn, board post 15th May 2007, ‘The Licked Cupcakes’
I very distinctly remember an object lesson in Young Women’s. A counselor in the bishopric came in and said he was going to give us a piece of peppermint candy. He opened it but ‘accidentally’ dropped it, then stepped on it, and just got it gross and dirty. Then he picked it up and asked us if any of us wanted it. Of course none of us did. Then he compared it to sleeping around.
Then, I remember lesson where someone literally had a salad prepared and brought it to class (may have been a Saturday stake youth activity, not sure). They asked us if we liked salad, and someone or all of us may have eaten it. Then he dumped a small amount of dirt in the salad and stirred it. He asked if anyone would eat the salad now. Of course no one would. He said ‘but there is hardly any dirt in the salad, are you sure you don’t want it?’ No, we didn’t want it. Eventually he made the point that even just a little sin can ruin things. Always Thinking, board post 10th November 2007, ‘Peppermint Candy’
When I was about 14 or so, I went to a combined mutual night (all the teenage boys and girls together).
We were all given make believe airline tickets and told we were all going on a flight to a fun and exciting tropical paradise. Some of the adult members were dressed as stewardesses, pilot etc. We all boarded this make believe plane (between the chapel and cultural hall where there is a twelve-foot wide space between the big curtain dividers). They served us snacks and tried hard to make it seem real. Most of us were cutting up, not paying much attention because the whole thing was a little pre-adolescent.
Then it happened. The pilot comes on and says we have some sort of engine trouble, they blink the lights for about a minute while engine noises, wind and stuff are piped through the sound system then some sort of plane crash noise. Some of us boys are still carrying on hamming it up screaming like the girls etc. Then all goes quiet and everything goes dark.
One of the leaders then states, ‘You are all dead now.’ Things got pretty serious at this point. We all got sober. It wasn’t funny anymore.
Then a few lights went on and an adult member came in dressed in white and started saying things like, ‘Were you ready to die tonight? Your time is up and it's too late to repent, Where will you go? Will you be with your family forever or somewhere else?’ etc. Some of the girls started crying and everything really hit an all-time low. Inconceivable, board post 10th November 2007, ‘The Plane Crash’