Are You Mormon Fragile?
How to Make Your Beliefs Antifragile
Are You Mormon Fragile?
(Here’s your first test: I am not LDS. Now. With that knowledge, will you continue reading this article? In a very short period of time, depending on what you do right at this moment, you will know whether or not you are Mormon Fragile. If you are, thank you for joining me this far and safe journeys. If you’re not, we’ll continue. Interesting, isn’t it — shall we begin?)
“Antifragile?” Wait…wouldn’t the opposite of the word “fragile,” be “strong”? Not according to author Nassim Nicholas Taleb in his book, Antifragile: Things That Gain From Disorder. Taleb states in his prologue:
“Some things benefit from shocks; they thrive and grow when exposed to volatility, randomness, disorder, and stressors and love adventure, risk, and uncertainty. Yet, in spite of the ubiquity of the phenomenon, there is no word for the exact opposite of fragile. Let us call it antifragile. Antifragility is beyond resilience or robustness. The resilient resists shocks and stays the same; the antifragile gets better.”[1]
To illustrate the delineation between fragile, strong, and antifragile, let’s take three tangible objects and expose them to stress. A glass Christmas ball — in honor of the season — a brick, and a rubber ball.
Now, if we expose these things to an external stressor, say throwing them against a concrete wall, well, we know what will become of the pretty, glass orb.
With enough force, no matter how strong the brick, it could splinter-off, split or break, depending on the force with which it was hurled. Ah, but throw a rubber ball at the wall, it comes back — faster, farther even, from where it was thrown.
So how does that translate into belief? If you ask yourself, honestly, “Are my beliefs a glass ball, a brick, or a rubber ball?” what would you conclude? I know you might want to believe they are brick, or even rubber, because you secretly know that’s the right answer. ;) But let’s take a look at how we hold our beliefs, and what we do to maintain them.
Just as the secret to belief is the substance, the secret to the amount of fragility in our tangible objects is in the material: the glass ball is glass — breakable, delicate, unable to sustain any type of stress to it at all. Ah, but the brick? Strong, dense, heavy — good, yes? Ah, but rigid and not entirely shock-proof. The brick may hold up well under many circumstances, especially to huffs and puffs from a big, bad wolf.
But in today’s clime and age of information, puffs from a fairy tale wolf are not the most immediate threat. Today, you have some serious concrete walls in the path of your “bricks of belief”; concrete stressors and threats popping up all around you. Now, let’s look at the rubber ball: flexible, resilient, adaptable, and yet, it doesn’t change shape fundamentally — only temporarily when it encounters the external force.
What is Mormon Fragile?
The LDS Church has had many apostles, prophets, and other leaders encourage Church members to seek truth and gain knowledge in a variety of ways. I have a quote that I love and use often, by the Prophet Joseph Smith, Jr.:
“By proving contraries, truth is made manifest.”
Another of his choice quotes:
“One of the grand fundamental principles of ‘Mormonism’ is to receive truth, let it come from whence it may.” (History of the Church, 5:499)
LDS author, Gilbert W. Scharffs, after referencing statements by President Ezra Taft Benson, and Elder Carlos E. Asay regarding unsanctioned Church reading material, wrote:
“Such advice must not be interpreted to mean that the Church is against honest scholarship or has anything to fear or hide. Nor does the Church ban literature, but Latter-day Saints should be wise in choosing what to read.”
Despite the Prophet’s encouragement to “retrieve truth, let it come from whence it may,” many LDS members have chosen to cut themselves off from the world-at-large, and submerge themselves in their religion. Everything from the art they display, the entertainment they enjoy, what they read, their social and familial contacts, to what they allow their children to be exposed, and their leisure activities — all reflect or incorporate Mormonism, with little else.
Some might view this as a strong Mormon milieu. Elder Jeffrey Holland once said, “Duty to God is a way of life.” Yes, but many interpret that to mean “Mormonism” is a way of life. Well, yes…and no. I posit that the level of single-mindedness illustrated above does not reflect devotion; instead, it reveals a tremendous amount of fragility with regard to belief.
I’ll never forget Christine Mitmanski. She lived two houses down and was my best friend. Her house was yellow, like her corn-silk hair. She was not LDS. My mother didn’t expressly forbid me to play with her, but she did not encourage, either. And although only four-years of age, I could feel it: children are very good at picking up cues from their parents, especially cues that hint at disapproval.
One Sunday morning, before church, Christine came over and asked if I could play. My mother answered the door. I came to the top of the stairs and saw my friend, but before I could rush down to see her, Mom had closed the door, a stern look on her face. My mother told me she had turned Christine away, with the admonition that “we do not ‘play’ on Sundays. This is the Lord’s day.” Her admonition was clearly for me at that moment; however, I don’t know exactly what she said to my friend at the door. Whatever it was, the impact was swift and striking.
Christine and I never played together again.
After that day, Christine was never home; when she was, she was unavailable to play. It was pre-Kindergarten, so there was no chance of seeing her at school. And of course, not on Sundays.
Christine and her family moved out of the neighborhood a few months later. She never said goodbye. I have her picture, still, in one of my photo albums. In all of my photo albums, I have two photographs of childhood playmates: both are of Christine. She was not only my first friend; she was really my only friend. The girls in my ward didn’t like me. It’s as if they had a prescient knowledge of my departure from the faith, and they steered clear of me. I believe their parents had a sixth sense about me, perhaps, and the ward girls probably picked up on their cues, as well.
Keeping me away from Christine did not make me a stronger Mormon. It was the beginning of my dissent, even at that young age: her family was close-knit and kind. Her parents accepting and friendly. While at their home, never did I feel even a hint of disapproval or prickly suspicion because I was of a different faith than they were. And Christine? Lovely. What was wrong with them that I couldn’t see or feel that caused the strained look on my mother’s face when I told her I wanted to play at Christine’s? The answer: nothing. Nothing was wrong with the Mitmanskis.
But something was wrong with my mother, because this subtle act of sabotage revealed how incredibly fragile she was in her faith at the time. She could have explained to my friend that I couldn’t play that day, and suggested another time, or could have done a myriad of other things to support the friendship and still inform Christine I wasn’t allowed to play on Sundays. My mother chose to impart that information in such a way that I lost my friend, and I never knew why. Whatever she said, Christine took it home to her parents, and that was that.
The more rigid the belief, the more immersed you are in your religious culture, the more intolerant you are of anything outside the LDS-belief structure: these all reveal tremendous fragility with regard to your professed beliefs.
An argument against this statement is that in choosing to immerse yourself in the Church, you are in fact simply making a choice to surround yourself with things that you find uplifting. You feel the Spirit with EFY or Tabernacle Choir music playing. LDS-based fiction and nonfiction help you affirm (and reaffirm) your beliefs, and what is so wrong with that?
Well, nothing. Unless, when confronted with anything non-LDS related, you find absolutely nothing uplifting about it, or, at worst, you feel put-off, wary, fearful, outright defensive, or repelled by it. Even if the non-LDS thing is in accordance with your LDS belief system.
But couldn’t that be the Spirit, guiding me toward what’s good for me and what isn’t?
Feeling the Spirit and having personal, subjective feelings, can sometimes be difficult to discern. However, there is one thing of which I am certain: fear does not accompany the Spirit. Peace does. From lds.org: “…the Holy Ghost leads you to do good, brings you peace, and is associated with positive, unselfish feelings.”[2] (See Moroni 7:13; Galatians 5:22–23.) If you are fearful, upset, confused, angry…you are not feeling the Comforter. You are feeling fragile.
So, are you Mormon Fragile? Here are a few questions to ask yourself. Only you can decide, only you can judge — and only you can make the choice on how you want to proceed.
Your Surroundings and Entertainment
It’s wonderful to share your beliefs through how you beautify your home and surroundings. A stunning photograph of your favorite temple; a framed Family Proclamation on the wall; a small figure of the Savior, perhaps — one of my favorite Christmas decorations is a carved olive-wood miniature manger scene my mother brought home to me from her trip to Israel.
But, does your home’s décor consist almost solely of LDS or LDS-themed art? Are the books on your shelf a good cross-section of topics, authors, and subjects, or are they all LDS-approved, authored, and themed?
During the holidays, my favorite Christmas music, bar none, is Michael McLean’s The Forgotten Carols. I cannot listen to the song, “Joseph,” without dissolving into tears. The song, “I Cannot Find My Way Home/Three Kings,” fills me with love and peace. And my late father, a 33-year veteran of the Tabernacle Choir, instilled a love of the Choir’s choral music as an intrinsic part of my holiday tradition. But I also have a multitude of other artists and songs on my Christmas mix. Whether it’s the holidays or any other day, do you find you only listen to LDS-themed music, and only enjoy LDS-themed entertainments?
If you answer yes to most or all of these things, then it might be time to examine the reasons why you feel you need to surround yourself so fervently with Mormon paraphernalia, media, and culture. To you, it may look and seem like sincere devotion. To someone like me, or others, it belies fragility. Why?
Because when we take only a small sliver of a small sliver of a culture and hyper-focus on it, it’s as though we are purposefully winnowing out anything that would broaden, challenge, or expand ideas beyond that which has been accepted and adopted by us.
I would also like to point out that reading good literature, even secular fiction and nonfiction, that is challenging and radically different from your beliefs creates empathy and compassion for people of different religions, cultural backgrounds, lifestyles, ethnicities, and socio-economic statuses. Remember, Heavenly Father created everything and All:
“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” (Genesis 1: 31)
Willfully ignoring the rest of humanity by living in a culture-bubble is not what the Savior taught. ‘Loving one another’ is not followed by “as long as they fit your cultural and social criteria.”
Which leads us to:
Social Behavior
I have only a very few people I would call “best friends.” One is in the Elder’s Quorum Presidency in his ward. Another is former Baptist. Another is in the Young Women’s presidency in her ward. I could go on. So ask yourself: are all your friends LDS? Have you found that you’ve slowly, yet thoroughly, distanced yourself from unbelievers, either new people or people from your past, even family, in real life or on social media?
Do you restrict your children’s playmates based on whether or not they are LDS? Do you have a different set of rules for non-member friends versus member friends? (“You can play over at sister Jenson’s house with Molly, but when you play with Tiffany, it needs to be at our house.”) Now, if you make that rule because you don’t know Tiffany’s parents, then that’s understandable, but you need to make it a point to get to know Tiffany’s parents. If you know the environment is unsafe in any way, the rule is understandable.
However, “unsafe” means drug use, abuse, lack of parental supervision or other actual danger. Having a wine bar in the living room does not make little Tiffany’s house “unsafe,” (as long as there is parental supervision at all times, which should be a rule, across-the-board, for all friends.)
It’s appropriate to want to protect your children. But if you restrict their friendships outright or in subtle ways, you are not protecting them: you are sending them a message, and the message is not in accordance with the teachings of the Church. I have heard from the pulpit, whether in a ward sacrament meeting or in General Conference, leaders exhort members to reach out to unbelievers, befriend and help all in need, and treat everyone with respect. Aren’t those qualities you want to impart to your children?
The subtle message I got from my mother in regard to Christine and her family was that there was something wrong with them, and something to fear, even though there wasn’t. This is dangerous — teaching children to fear people who are different. Because as they grow and are exposed to more and more people, they will learn that there are good people all over, who believe all sorts of different things; your children will learn there was nothing to fear. Then they will question what else you, as a parent, were wrong about regarding your values.
In terms of your own friendships, you may assert that you enjoy spending time with like-minds, people who share your values, and people with whom you have things in common.
With both defenses, I would like to gently challenge you.
What’s wrong with letting your children play with kids of different beliefs or faiths? If your child comes home and says, “Tiffany’s mom and dad drink coffee. Does that mean they are doing something wrong? Are they bad?” What a great teaching opportunity. You can give your kids your own, personal testimony or understanding of the Word of Wisdom; additionally, a deeper, more profound lesson: all people believe differently, even within the same faith. Being different doesn’t make them wrong or bad, just… different.
Tiffany’s parents are not LDS, and they are good people (because you did the right thing by getting to know them so your daughter could play at little Tiffany’s house, right?) Now you’ve taught your daughter empathy, compassion, and acceptance and the Savior’s admonition to “love one another.” You taught her not just with words, but by the most powerful form of instruction: example.
As for friendships, what’s wrong with hearing differing insights, points of view — socially, politically, or even religiously? Don’t get me wrong — I don’t think vehemently arguing who or what is “right” and “wrong” long into the night is enjoyable, either. And if you know people who are outright disrespectful of your beliefs and values, then certainly, they are not people with whom you want to associate or spend a lot of time.
But spending time with others who can engage in a respectful exchange of ideas? Exploring how we each view the world, how we perceive our place in it? Finding similarities in belief and things that differ, respectful dialog and sharing? It can be enlightening to learn how others see the world, and life in general.
I remember having a wonderful talk with my friend, Tim, as he told me of his personal understanding of the Atonement. It was fascinating to me and revealed to me who he was as a person in a variety of ways that I deeply respect.
If your beliefs are antifragile, you will be able to withstand opposing viewpoints and challenges to your paradigms. You may absorb new insights that give nuance to your beliefs, and better a understanding of your own values and knowledge. You may hear things that do not resonate, and upon examination, those things may help you delineate what is true and feels right through careful consideration and thought.
My brother, the former mission president of the Australia, Adelaide mission, once said, “People spend their entire lives gathering evidence to support what they already believe.” If this is the case, then how can we possibly learn new ways of looking at things? How can we possibly gain knowledge? If we surround ourselves in an echo-chamber of ideas, how will our intellects, our beliefs, and our knowledge ever go beyond what we already believe to be true?
Unbelieving Family
This one is close to home for me, being a former Mormon. Even though there were some negative experiences, especially my parents’ reaction to my departure from the faith, my sister remained the brightest spot during that tumultuous time. She was a shining example of antifragile. She listened to my reasons for leaving respectfully, and validated my feelings and experiences. She never preached to me or shamed me. She never judged. She even listened to me as I babbled on during a period where I adopted a sort of “new agey-pagan” religious mindset (yikes!) She listened to me, and found ways to find common ground with me, rather than point out how and why I was wrong. Most important, she remained, and remains, my closest friend and ally during the most difficult times in my life.
Do you have non-believers in your family? Siblings, parents, children? Do you ever find you exclude them from, say, a casual lunch because, hey, it’s nicer to be able to talk about your favorite topic — the thing that binds you as much as blood, the Church — without worrying about offending someone or getting into a debate? Maybe that’s something that you need to explore: why does religion have to dominate all of your conversations? If you don’t have anything else to discuss besides religion, refer to the first and second points of “signs of fragility.”
It’s a big, interesting, dynamic, complex and diverse world out there. Surely there are many topics open for discussion that enlighten, uplift, and challenge. Do you try to go out of your way with non-believing family and find what you share and have in common? Do you listen respectfully when they share something from another source that is not LDS, but remains an eternal truth that is in line with your beliefs? Why not build on that to form a stronger family connection with your unbelieving family member?
Are family functions limited and too-few-and-far-between for fear the subject of religion will be broached? Do you find you tend to ignore communications such as emailed articles, interesting news items, or other reading recommendations sent by non-believers? Do you automatically disregard the information sent by non-believers as irrelevant to your life? If what they send you is secular or of another religious affiliation, do you refuse to read it, or do you grudgingly read it through a jaded mind-lens and then ignore the message in the hopes they will stop sending them?
When someone leaves the faith, especially in a heavily-populated LDS community, or an all-LDS family, he or she feels disenfranchised and sometimes lost. If your answer is, “Well, then they should come back to Church,” then you’re not employing the principles of empathy, compassion, and love. Your love and acceptance, no matter where your relative is in his or her transition, helps ground them, and gives them a stable foundation for their journey. And let’s not forget: they are your family.
Do you have family members with different lifestyles or have gravitated towards other religions? Do you actively avoid them? Do you have members of your family who are gay, transgendered, or who are dealing with other similar issues? Are they included in your family functions? If they are in a same-sex partnership, are their partners invited to functions and are they treated warmly, and with acceptance? Do you speak kindly and with respect about your non-believing family members to your LDS family and others?
Ah, here’s a real litmus test: do you find, when explaining a family member’s departure from the religion, you end your comments with, “but he/she is still a really good person”? (In case you’re wondering, this is a backhanded way of saying that only LDS people are capable of being good people, but your non-believing family member is the exception to that rule.) I can’t tell you how many times I heard that statement from members while I was still a member — especially my parents while I was growing up.
At family gatherings, do you sidestep the subject of religion altogether to avoid conflict, when in fact, your avoidance is a sign that you’re unwilling to hear or be subjected to different viewpoints?
Any of the above sound like you? Then you may be Mormon Fragile.
The motto is “Family First,” not “Believing Family First.” And your non-believing aunt, sister or mother may have important lessons to teach you about compassion, acceptance, love, and life in general. They may have wisdom you have yet to discover. You simply need to allow the lessons find you. As my mother used to say, “If you’re not careful, you might learn something new, every day.”
My wonderful father-in-law is a devout member of the Church. He is 80-years old. My husband remembers back in 1978, when the Church announced that African-American Church members would finally be granted the blessings of the priesthood (men only) and the temple, his father said, matter-of-factly, in his no-nonsense, pragmatic, rural-Idaho way: “Well. It’s about time.”
When my husband was a boy, his father shared something with him so often, my husband still has it memorized. It was not an LDS scripture; it was not by an LDS author or leader. It was a poem by a pleasure-loving, Romantic poet from the 19th century named Leigh Hunt. Hunt’s poem was written eight years after the formation of the LDS Church. Incidentally, this poem, among many other things, informed the impeccable morality and values of my father-in-law as well as my husband, and has continued to inform my husband’s values, even today. The poem: “Abou Ben Adhem”:
Abou Ben Adhem
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
“What writest thou?” The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”
“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, “I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men.”
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.
***
To this day, my husband, his father, and my husband’s good, loving, LDS family believe that loving and serving their fellow men (and women) is the best way for them to show their love for the Lord, and the truest way for them to live, and practice, their faith.
It Takes (Rubber) Balls
Every first Sunday of the month, LDS church wards across the world have fast and testimony meeting. Members stand up and share their beliefs with their fellow church goers. I remember these meetings mostly when the little boys and girls, spiffy in their adorable little suits or pinafore dresses, would toddle their way up to the podium, where a smiling First Counselor or proud Bishop would pull up a stool, adjust the microphone, and the podium, with its low hum, would drop, like a bending knee.
Invariably, the little one would say, “I like to bury my testimony that I know this Church is true…” followed by various token and rote sentiments that almost always garnered murmurs of appreciation and delight from the congregation.
The misspoken word, “bury,” instead of “bear,” is a rather opportune object lesson here:
Don’t allow your beliefs to get “buried” in the very beliefs you hold to be true.
Allow your faith to breathe, grow, expand, and be challenged. Open yourself up to all of the many truths and beauty and uplifting things the world has to offer.
“If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.”[3]
The world is full of beauty and grace, virtue, and praiseworthy things. It is full of many truths from oh, so many different places. Seek out these truths, or — let them come, “from whence it may.”
And as for the oft repeated, “I know this Church is true,” a thought: if you know, and you have no doubt, then, my friends, you have nothing to fear.
Peace to you —
J.A. Carter-Winward
* * *
An Afterword
Since I am a writer for Mormondom, and not LDS, I feel I need to explain myself, my presence here, as a writer on Mormondom. I mean, who am *I* to be telling you how to live your faith?
Well, I’m no one, really. A novelist, writer, poet, playwright, short-story writer, activist, teacher, performer, wife, mother, grandmother, sister, and human being. I am also a former Mormon. I recoil at the term “ex-Mormon.” I self-identify as a “cultural Mormon.” No, much of my writings are not suitable for devout Mormon readers, I’ll admit that’s true. It’s an enigma I’m constantly exploring and examining. However, while writing for Mormondom, I respect the beliefs and values of its readers, while simultaneously (gently, through poetry and pieces such as this), challenging things of a cultural nature.
Yes, some things I write might challenge doctrine a little. But I do so with the hopes that minds and hearts will open. The brethren, back in 1978, respectfully knelt for hours, in holy communion with their Father in Heaven, concerning blacks and the priesthood. Their prayers were answered. That gives me hope that as our minds change, our hearts will also change, and then, the world will change; change and improve to be more inclusive.
Unlike many former members of the Church, I do not seek to destroy faith. Nor do I seek to destroy the Church. What I do seek: truth, in all forms. I seek a happy balance and relationship with my believing friends and family. As I stated earlier, this article is a cultural piece, not a religious one.
I am fascinated by the ideas of “inclusion” versus “exclusion.” I will be writing more with these two themes interwoven in the general topics I explore. Inclusion is what keeps family and friends together. Inclusion is what holds communities together. Inclusion saves souls and lives.
I am a great admirer of Carol Lynn Pearson, a devout LDS poet, author, and activist, as you may well know — she was my first exposure to poetry. She remains a devoted member, and yet she softly presents ways of practicing her faith that include, rather than exclude.
My hope, with these articles, is to help LDS and non-LDS alike find common ground, respect, and love for one another. If you are LDS and you took the time to read my words with an open mind and heart — I thank you. Know that it was written with a sincere desire to enrich and connect.
I am seeking to build bridges, here. The poem in the article did not only affect my husband; when he recited it to me (by heart, of course), I was in tears. I realized that my work, while here on this Earth, was to show love to my fellow men and women. And so this is how I do it. With my words.
Respectfully,
J.A.
[1] http://www.fooledbyrandomness.com/prologue.pdf
[2] https://www.lds.org/new-era/2010/11/questions-and-answers?lang=eng
