Becky asks a very interesting question:

For some reason as of late, I’ve read quite a few phrases about events being part of “God’s plan” or “God’s Will.” And if you subscribe to this theory, then I’m wondering what is the point of praying for things for a particular result?

Here was the original reply I was going to put in the comment section:
One useful thing about prayer in my mind is that it’s a form of self-reflection. It’s a way to lay-out what you want and why. If you’re embarassed to tell God why you want something, then that tells you more than any deity is likely to.

Case-and-point. About eight years ago I almost prayed to God for the first time in years to ask that she not be pregnant. But the thought occured to me that she already missed her period and if she was pregnant, it was too late to ask that. I would, in essence, be asking for a miscarriage. It made me look at my potential fatherhood in a completely different light, see that what was done was done, and that it was up to me to live up to the consequences of it all, whatever they might be. Ultimately, I prayed that if she is pregnant that it be healthy and that I have the strength to pull through and be the best father that I can.

Of course, I am projecting a personal experience on the rest of the world. So my answer is certainly not the universal one. But it is at least one thing that helped me keep things in perspective during a very timultuous time in my life.

Apparently, two LDS missionaries were shot and one of them killed in Virginia:

A Mormon missionary going door to door was fatally shot Monday night and a fellow missionary was wounded by an assailant who fled, police said.

The attacks happened just after 6 p.m. in the Deep Creek area of the city, police said, when a man approached the two, shot them and ran away.

One of the victims ran to a nearby nursing home seeking help, police said.

A number of possible explanations. The killer may have just really had it in for Mormons. He may have saw two well-dressed young men and figured that they had money on them (though the details don’t seem to match that hypothesis). Maybe he was just crazy.

I hadn’t really thought about it before, but in many ways the missionaries really are putting themselves at risk. Maybe not great-risk, but a lot of gun-happy states like Texas and Colorado give the benefit of the doubt to gun-totin’ property-owners even when there is no apparent threat of physical harm. Not to mention some of the neighborhoods they have to go through (Willard did his mission in South-Central LA).

The one that survived is apparently doing okay, which is good to hear.

The most conspicuous part of Christmas Eve Mass at St. Jude is usually the 40ish year old woman (different woman each time, but always 40ish and always female) who wishes to use the opportunity to show off her singing voice during the hymns. We’re Episcopalians… conspicuity makes us uncomfortable.

We didn’t get that this year, instead getting a conspicuous fellow for a different reason.

My brothers Ollie and Mitch, myself, and Mom all filed in. My father ushers, so he hovered around the back keeping an eye on things and helping people find our seats. I was looking back at Dad when I saw the dude. He was wearing sweatpants, a wife-beater, and jogging suit coat. He looked a bit… disoriented.

Dad chose to seat the man in front of us. He spent a good ten minutes trying to figure out what song we were singing until Mitch leaned across the pew to help him out. The song ended and we went for the prayer book, where he again got lost. Like a kid who hadn’t studied the night before, he tried subtlely to see where the people next to him had their prayer book opened.

I looked back at my father. His eyes narrowed and he nodded. You may have to know my father personally to understand why that keen little bit of understatement was so funny and yet communicative.

It was apparently our duty to watch over the fellow. Mitch did most of the heavy-lifting. Mom just looked in wonderment at the guy who spent most of his service trying to figure out what was going on. At some point when we lined up for Holy Communion, he snapped out of his stupor and realized that everyone else had gone. We were towards the front of the line waiting to be placed at the alter. To make up for lost time, he made a beeline straight for the alter, taking the spot next to Mom and leaving me without a place to go, having to walk back to the front like it was I that had no idea what I was doing.

I got a little worried for our inebriated guest during the sermon, when he started to randomy mutter “amen” and “that’s right.” I was worried that thought he was at a more participatory Baptist or Methodist service. We’re Episcopalians, we only participate when our little booklet tells us to.

The good news is that after the sermon, he fell asleep and therefore was assured of causing no scene.

At the beginning of the service, we’re all given a candle that we light at the end of the service. He was a bit confused as to why he didn’t have a candle. Good move, Dad.

On the whole it was a bit distracting, but we had a little laugh about it afterwards. I’m not sure where he went, but I figure if it was anyone that needed religious guidance that night, it was him. It’s probably better to show up for the experience sober, though.

This is a follow-up to my Plakids post and Barry’s thoughtful reply.

Somewhere in between instilling one’s values and handing a child a semi-automatic weapon is taking them on protests and rallies… but then again some might say that a July 4th rally is no better or worse than an anti-war rally (both being unquestionably correct to the person taking them to the rally)… but I view them in entirely different contexts.

It’s an interesting question, philosophically, where instilling one’s values begins and indoctrination or even brainwashing begins. Most Christians will raise their children as Christian, which some might liken to what I’m complaining about above, though I don’t find anything wrong with that as long as it has appropriate restraints. I have little patience for those that would turn out their own kids for being gay, getting pregnant, etc. On the other hand, if one believes the Bible to be the literal Truth of God and take Leviticus to view homosexuality as a sin, then it’s hard to take a squishy ‘tolerant’ view of gays.

Similarly, I don’t have a problem with taking kids to an Independence Day Parade. How different is that from an anti-war protest? Both are intuitively true to their boosters. After all, who’s “pro-war” or “Anti-America”? The answer is a lot of people, of course, and a lot of people who attend the former will view it as attempted indoctrination later in life (particularly when in college).

In some ways I think parents are somewhat duty-bound to pass on their values to the next generation. Their kids may accept or reject these values later on, but I have difficulty putting my arms around the notion that values should be determined from a blank slate from one generation to the next. Just the practical implications are horrifying. In some ways, I think, generations have been too liberal in rejecting the wisdom of their elders. It seems to me that the curse of the baby boomers has been a reluctance to acknowledge that their parents were right about some things. At war with growing up to become their parents and therefore in many cases choosing not to grow up at all.

I guess it’s somewhat the difference between passing on values and passing on worldviews. Values, such as justice, freedom, or morality, can be applied in a number of ways. Values imply questions while worldviews suppose answers. Maybe that opens up a slippery-slope back to complete moral relativism, but just as I think it’s important for children to acknowledge the wisdom of their elders, it seems to me to be important as well for them to build upon it with new ideas.

An Independence Day parade represents, to me, a celebration. Not the proclamation that America is perfect, but a day to celebrate where we are. Some years that seems harder to do than others, but it seems more important when we have a President with approval ratings in Hooverville and an opposition that’s faring little better. War protests, on the other hand, often seem less to me about building peace than going after war (and the elements that have driven us to war). The same goes for an anti-abortion protest, seeming less about celebrating life than screaming and shouting.

In both cases, I guess, the stakes are high. Thousands or tens of thousands dying in war or millions dying by abortion. But in some ways that makes it even more important to me to leave the children out of it. They will have time later to attack the weightier issues of the world. They will, hopefully or unfortunately, pick their own battles to fight. It just seems wrong to enlist them in someone else’s.

Sometimes work is a constant search of things to listen to while you’re working. Simon has taken to the whole podcast craze. A while back he stumbled across TheChurchIsNOTTrue.com. It’s by two former members of The Brethren that have dedicated themselves to “exposing” The Church. In a testament to Simon’s intellectual honesty, he also listened to the pro-LDS Mormon Stories podcast. I actually listened to some of both as well and found it all interesting, though I’m obviously more ignorant of some of the backstory than is Simon, who was raised in The Church.

But one thing that caught my attention in the anti-LDS podcast was an episode with his daughter. He took issue with something his daughter was being taught in school about Deseret and LDS history and sent his daughter back to correct the error. I’m not going to get into what the disagreement was about, but it was a pretty minor affair. Even to the extent that he was right and the teacher wrong, it rubbed me the wrong way for him to drag his daughter in to it. He can say that the school is the one that dragged his daughter into it, and though he may be correct, it is unlikely that the lesson plan will change and if that’s his goal he should take it up with the school directly. Considering local culture, I would probably not even do that as it would likely change nothing except make my child’s life just a little more difficult as an outsider. Of course, it’s fears like that which would prevent me from raising a child in Deseret to begin with, so being that he is binded to the area I can appreciate his dilemma a little.

It reminded me a little bit of Michael Newdow, the atheist father who sued on behalf of his daughter (without the legal standing to do so) to get the pledge stripped from public schools. Honestly, I think the words “under god” ought not be in the pledge and to the extent they are, Newdow was probably technically correct. But point-of-fact he used his daughter to make a political point. It would be one thing if the daughter went home in tears and was already distraught, but that was not the case.

I feel the same way (except much more strongly) about involving kids in political events. I grouse at parents that have a little three year-old girl holding a placard supporting a position that they could not possibly understand or an eight year old who may understand it somewhat but is not aware that there is another point of view that may be equally supportable. There’s a reason that they’re not allowed to vote, because they’re not old enough to understand the issues. The children of most Republican parents will become Republicans. The same goes for Democrats. Fearly on you eye current events with the perspective you are raised to. This is true even when parents don’t talk politics. It’s not even a bad thing as it is important for parents to pass on their values to children. But the leap from “You should help your fellow man” or “You should earn what you get through work” and representing your own opinion as your child’s is not a small one – even (and especially) when they’re perfectly willing and happy to do so because they love their mommy and daddy.

Back in Colosse there is a somewhat prominant megachurch pastor and TV evangelist named Ross Garrett. His attendance was usually in the five digits and he is big enough that he has the President’s ear on matters of social policy. Though I never went to any of his services, I am told he is phenomenal and the one sermon of his I’ve heard backs that up.

The family I worked for at Wildcat was full of fundamentalist Christians. Politically, my boss Cal was pure Pat Buchanan and his son-in-law Red was more George W. Bush. During the run-up to the War in Iraq, there was a difference of opinion and a sort of rivalry broke out as they each tried to convince the rest of the gang that their cause was more just in the eyes of the Lord. Being the one with the CD burner, I was caught in the middle of this struggle.

Red gave me one of Pastor Ross’s sermons that directly addressed the coming war. Garrett declared our President a Man of the L0rd that we should follow as a good shepherd, Saddam was satan incarnate, the French are a joke, Clinton was to blame for 9/11, and those that opposed the war were analogous to the Germans that looked the other way while Jews burned. But Garrett has a way of making even the ridiculous sound sublime. It makes for interesting listening, whatever one’s opinion of the above individuals and the war might be. It was sufficiently interesting to me that I kept a copy of it until it got stolen with the rest of my CDs. It wouldn’t surprise me too much if the thief heard the sermon and begame one of Mr. Garrett’s congregation. The man is that charismatic.

But back to my copy of the CD. It was an illegal one. You see, Pastor Ross charged $3.99 for every copy of his sermons. I found this to be ethically quite interesting. First, there I was making illegal copies for some rather moralistic individuals. Second, I was making illegal copies of a sermon. Isn’t the point of a sermon to be heard? If Ross Garrett is spreading the Gospel of our Lord, shouldn’t priority A-1 be for as many people to hear it as possible? I understand that the church has to raise money and pay bills, but neverminding the extravegant mohogany doors and all that jazz, isn’t the primary goal of a church to spread the Word? Isn’t the money-raising supposed to be a means towards that end? Making copies of sermons not only doesn’t cost the church any money in absolute terms (there are opportunity costs, but see above), but it provides free advertising both for the church and the Word it professes to be in the business of spreading.

I suppose “business” is the operative word.

I’ve never been a pacifist. I guess I’ve always considered war a “necessary evil.” That’s not to say that I necessarily agree with every war that we have ever engaged in or are currently engaging in, but rather that I consider war inherently unfortunate, but not inherently immoral.

It must be difficult to be a pacifist in this country. Even when we’re not at war in the sense we currently are, there’s always something going on somewhere. Combine that with the fact that most all of us know someone that has been in the military, and a pacifist is left with a lot of people that have engaged in (or were willing to directly engage in) something they considered to be wrong. If you’re against the Iraq War, for instance, you can say benignly assume that the soldier didn’t know he would be used for such nefarious ends. But if you’re against war at all, it gets more difficult.

To a lesser degree, the same is true with people that support political positions that you disagree with. They may be the nicest people in the world and they may be doing what they do with the best of motivations, but any way you look at it, they spend time, energy, and money in opposition to your ideals. Benignly and unintentionally, they are your opponents.

The situation I constantly find myself in has more to do with the latter situation than the former, but some days it feels like the former. These people do more than just agree with me, but additionally they support an institution that makes my life more difficult. And previously directly engaged in behavior of those I was regularly annoyed by for more than a year.

The term out here is RM: Returned Missionaries.

My boss and friend Willard is a Returned Missionary. So are roughly half of my coworkers and a number of other acquaintances. They spent two years of their life (assuming they made it the whole way) going out and trying to get people to convert.

It’s a lofty idea that I can appreciate. Right up until they’re knocking on my door. When you’re in their crosshairs, it’s a different feeling entirely. They keep stopping by long after you’ve told them to leave. When they’ve done all they can, they just send a new set.

Shortly after moving up here, I made the mistake of letting some in and accepting their Book of Mormon. Further, I read the sections they asked me to and even the whole books that included them (3 Nephi and Moroni). I asked them questions.

The whole time I was very clear with them about my intentions. I wanted to learn more about the faith so that I could better understand those that live around me. I wanted to understand what they believe and why. I did not want to convert. I told them if they wanted to rack up some conversion numbers, they were wasting their time. They stuck around anyway, I assumed because they were just glad to get someone that wasn’t outright hostile.

It can’t be easy to be a missionary. You’re parachutted into a community that you are most likely very unfamiliar with, and then you’re expected to go proselytize. Most of the people you meet will dislike you. Some will spit at you and others merely curse you. The whole time you are expected to remain on an even keel. In my limited experience dealing with them, they actually do it.

So I have a certain degree of sympathy. Up until it’s time to go on a mission, remaining in The Church is the path of least resistence. But once you’re a missionary, you’re walking the walk. You’re agreeing to be spat upon and cursed. You’re agreeing to being cut off from your family (not entirely, but for the most part) for two years. You’re not only agreeing to move around every two years, but you can’t even really become a part of the community you’re in. You’re there on a mission (figuratively and literally, I suppose) and you haven’t the time. You get one day off, but even then things such as TV are off-limits.

The ability of The Church to motivate young men in their prime (19-25) to do this is a testament to the loyalty they command and achieve. The ability of men to make such sacrifices is, however inconvenient to me personally, extraordinarily admirable. It’s no coincidence that most of the most honorable and upright Mormon men out here that I know are RMs.

So I had some sympathy and thought that they might appreciate some friendliness, even if I wouldn’t be a notch in their belt, so to speak. It didn’t work that way, of course, just as Clancy told me it wouldn’t. The missionaries I had the understanding with were swapped out with others and then others still. None of them would take “no” for an answer.

It got to the point that I did not want to be in my own place on the Saturday afternoons that they would stop by. All the while, I was working beside people who had spent two years doing to others what was being done to me. Besides the cognitive dissonance that this generated, it also had an isolating effect. I wasn’t partnered with Simon at work yet and had no one to even talk to about it. I wanted to ask my RM friends up here how to get rid of them, but the people who would help me most I was least able to ask.

Even the non-RMs were not particularly approachable. The missionaries are extremely highly regarded. Those leaving on mission get a mention in the paper in between the engagement and Eagle Scout announcements. Anyone who has driven down the Interestate has seen an area devoted entirely to signs put up to welcome returning missionaries. To suggest irritation with them is like cursing the military outside the big city: not kosher.

I finally turned to a web site called ExMormons.org and asked what I could do that would make the missionary playbook tell them to leave me alone. The answers usually include “Leave Deseret” and pestering the local LDS Bishop. We’re stuck in Deseret for another year or so and the Bishop is a co-owner of the company I worked for. They said such things were not uncommon and wished me well.

It wasn’t all for naught, though. I found out that while they will follow former members from state to state, if you’re not in their registry they won’t. The bad news is that the “Do Not Contact” list they apparently have for former members (to avoid harassment charges, I suppose) they do not have for folks like me. They also did suggest that we not leave a forwarding address when we moved from the apartments to the basement so long as my landlords were members of the Brethren, so we didn’t.

The good thing about a basement apartment is that it’s not as easily accessible in streetsweeps (where they knock on every house on a block), so we haven’t had to deal with them since. It’d be nice if the Jehova’s Witness folks let that stop them, but I don’t have the social pressure to be nice if worse comes to worse.

Simon, my partner at work, came across this interesting nutbar theory: The Mormons and Jehova’s Witnesses are the same people. The Freemason connection is old hat, but extra bonus points on crackpottery for folding them in to the evil Satanists and twice-evil Illuminati! And yet another point for just mentioning Adolf Hitler in there.

Ugh!!

I thought that we were finally rid of missionaries. I thought that we’d finally done it! But alas, we’ve got new ones. They’re not even Latter-day Saints folks, but rather the Jehova’s Witness kind. Even worse, I took their reading material. That’s always going to be my downfall. People give me something and ask me to read it, I say “sure.”

And their magazine, The Watchtower, is actually quite fascinating. I used to read it when they’d leave copies in the laundry room of an old apartment complex. While I certainly have my doubts about it being divined from god, I’ve no doubt that the writers were quite inspired. I can just imagine them in a library full of right-wing and left-wing conspiracy literature, stoking on LSD, and smoking some pot as they come up with all the stuff therein. At least when it comes to the Revelation-style stuff. This one was just about death, which was actually somewhat anti-climactic. Honestly, it would be cool to write for such a publication if it didn’t require believing in it.

My coworker Clem is getting married some time in the coming week or five. I have an invitation on my desk, though I’m too lazy to look it up. Not an invitation to the wedding, but something else.

Being a gentile in Deseret is inconvenient, but there are certainly some ways the Mormons are good about reaching out and weddings are one of them. More often then not (at least around the office) the weddings are in a Temple. According to religious tradition, of course, we’re not allowed in there (many Mormons aren’t, in fact, unless they’re in good standing). In fact, even families members aren’t allowed.

But they seem to work around it with very inclusive wedding parties. Inclusive enough that I’ve been invited to a couple despite not being in their social circles. It’s actually probably the perfect compromise. They get to maintain the integrity of their Temple and also share their matrimony with the rest of us.

So, as I complain about being excluded, I should make note of the places where it’s not so much the case.

There’s no way in heck I’m going, but that’s another story altogether.