Do Mormons really ban playing cards from the home?

Originally published in 2010. I brought it back from WayBack Archive because I still find the issue fascinating. I wish I could locate Cal Grondahl's cartoon that went with it.

Tired of repeat Go Fish games, I was shamefacedly teaching my younger daughter how to play poker. I didn’t have much success; she kept giggling when I tried to explain what a “flush” is.

What’s interesting is my first instinct was to use Rook cards — the ones with a bird — to teach her a variation of poker. I couldn’t find any in the home although I’ve seen them around. Rook cards, you could once find a deck in every active Mormon’s home. I grew up with them and we played “gin rummy” with Rook cards on many family home evening nights. It got me wondering: Are playing cards still mostly banned in LDS homes? We have a deck; although rarely used, I finally used it for the poker game with the daughter … I stressed no gambling!

Growing up, conventional playing cards were banned in my home. We only used Rook. One only had to open up “Mormon Doctrine” to see why my parents banned the cards. It reads, “Members of the Church should not belong to bridge or other type of card clubs, and they should neither play cards nor have them in their homes. By cards is meant, of course, the spotted face cards used by gamblers. To the extent that church members play cards they are out of harmony with their inspired leaders. Innocent non-gambling games played with other types of cards, except for the waste of time in many instances, are not objectionable.”

Other LDS sources have been a bit more moderate on the issue, describing cards as “time-wasters” that can be dangerous since they can lead to gambling. In a New Era article from 1984, author Boyd R. Thomas explained that in the days prior to television, cards were considered a time-waster that could lead to addiction, and perhaps, a gambling obsession. The article includes this 1939 quote from then-President Joseph F. Smith, published in “Gospel Doctrine:” While a simple game of cards in itself may be harmless, it is a fact that by immoderate repetition it ends in an infatuation for chance schemes, in habits of excess, in waste of precious time, in dulling and stupor of the mind, and in the complete destruction of religious feeling. … There is the grave danger that lurks in persistent card playing, which begets the spirit of gambling, of speculation and that awakens the dangerous desire to get something for nothing.”

The LDS Church has long opposed gambling, and with its influence one can expect that the lottery will never come to Utah. In the November 1972 Ensign, Dallin H. Oaks, then president of BYU and today a church apostle, penned an article titled “The Evils of Gambling.” Referring to gambling, he wrote, “We therefore advise and urge all members of the Church to refrain from participation in any activity which is contrary to the view herein set forth.” That would presumably include playing with traditional playing cards.

It’s my guess that most active Mormons likely take a dim view of cards, even if they are not using them to gamble. There remains a strong traditional disapproval of traditional cards. In fact, Rook was invented by game companies for the express purpose of meeting the game-playing needs of fundamentalist protestants who objected to traditional cards. I’m sure that sales to Mormons were counted by Rook makers in the second half of the 20th century. According to pagat.com, there is also a similar set of cards, called the Kvitlech cards, used by certain Jews in Central Europe who are forbidden to use standard cards.

-- Doug Gibson

‘Good Man Jesus and Scoundrel Christ’ both spiritual and blasphemous

An element that mars most religious fiction is that good and evil is established bluntly and quickly. Sunstone editor Stephen R. Carter has made a similar observation about Mormon literature. Nuance is sacrificed for the emotional satisfaction the reader expects and gets at the end. In a Jack Weyland short story, for example, we know the guy who sluffs off church isn’t going to get the virginal, hot-looking Mormon girl. In the “Left Behind” series, old Scratch himself may dominate for several volumes, but when all’s said and done, he’s joining the false prophet for a dip in the lake of fire.

It’s economics that drive these “happy endings.” Most readers of such fiction desire a belief to be reinforced. Religious-themed novels that really explore belief, and all its contradictions and perspectives, tend to languish unsold on shelves. After all, they’re not “faith-promoting.”

Of course, there’s also demand for polemics against religion. Atheism has its fervent believers, too. Philip Pullman, best known as the author of “His Dark Materials” series, has penned the slim, and quite spiritual, “The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, Canongate U.S., 2010,” a re-telling of The New Testament Gospels. Pullman’s title is ironic. Jesus is certainly selfless, but he isn’t always that pleasant of a fellow. And Christ isn’t really a scoundrel; he’s weak and serves as a Boswell for Jesus, who he envies. In Pullman’s novel, Christ allows himself to be manipulated by an “angel” who describes himself as one of “legion.”

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. In Pullman’s ‘Gospel,” Mary gave birth to twins. The strong one she named Jesus. The weaker twin is Christ. Mary, believing Christ is the Messiah, favors him over Jesus. As a youth, Christ uses this maternal advantage to appear to be more pious than his rougher brother. As adults, Jesus — a much stronger-willed and more disciplined man than Christ — assumes the spotlight and Christ shrinks into the background. 

In Pullman’s account of Jesus’ 40-day fast, Christ is re-cast as Satan the tempter. Jesus rebukes Christ as forcefully as he does Satan in the traditional New Testament, but Christ’s reasons to feed Jesus are based in practicality, rather than a dark desire to see Jesus fail. In an interesting twist, Jesus even scorns Christ’s awed claim that he, Jesus, is divine.

The “angel” exploits Christ’s need for sanction and approval from authority by teaching that religion is better utilized as something for lesser mortals; a larger than reality “Church of God” run by wise men. The “angel” asks Christ to secretly follow Jesus around and record his deeds. In fact, the angel suggests that Christ embellish and change some accounts, suggesting that spiritual “truth” is often more important than historical accuracy.

In the most controversial passages, Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane prays to a God he no longer seems to believe in. Christ plays the role of Judas in setting up Jesus to be crucified by the Romans. Afterwards, the “angel” supplies Christ as “Jesus resurrected,” and then spirits him off to a foreign land where he assumes a new life with a wife and family and watches as his brother becomes a religious icon. These experiences turn Christ, ironically, into a man as cynical as Jesus eventually became.

Midway in Pullman’s novel Christ gradually becomes a more sympathetic figure and Jesus a more cynical figure. Jesus’ lament in the garden underscores his growing disillusionment with prayer and a belief in an expected Messiah. Christ’s spirituality improves initially as the “angel” brings the order he craves, but that order he craved turns corrupt, even criminal, as Jesus is led to death.

Pullman sees Jesus as just one of many prophets of that period, whose death would have quickly extinguished his 20 minutes of fame. It takes an organized conspiracy to turn him into a “resurrected Messiah,” who conveniently then disappears. In a humorous denouement, Christ realizes the mysterious “angel” was probably just a cunning businessman.

Pullman is a talented writer and his prose is both spare and lyrical; it reminds me of Naguib Mahfouz’s Islamic novel “The Harafish.” Is it blasphemous to Christianity? Perhaps, but that shouldn’t draw believers away from “The Good Man Jesus and The Scoundrel Christ.” Critiques, even polemics, against our most cherished beliefs should not be feared by anyone who wants to improve their mind. There are excellent defenses of Christianity and organized religion — C.S. Lewis’ “Mere Christianity” comes to mind — that provide balance to Pullman’s writings.

Pullman’s novel has nuance, it makes us think, and there are truths in it that the honest reader will acknowledge.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardNET

LDS Church prophet George Albert Smith overcame depression, other demons

 

Latter-day Saints often study the teachings of the 8th church president, George Albert Smith. George Albert was the first LDS prophet who was monogamous, ending the hierarchal tenure of polygamy. It can be argued that his time was a transition from “ancient” toward “modern” leaders of the LDS Church. (I’m 57, and was born during the tenure of George Albert's successor, President David O. McKay.) Mormons are taught that George Albert Smith was “sickly” at times, and that his health was improved, by his own acknowledgment, through the power of prayer. But his battle with severe depression, which incapacitated the apostle for more than two years, is not mentioned in its proper context, but only as physical ailments.

As blogger J Stapley points out in the bycommonconsent Mormon-themed blog, that’s not all the facts. (Read) To opine that George Albert Smith might have suffered from mental disorder is not unfair to him, nor is it an insult to the late LDS prophet.

Ultimately, it’s a story of triumph for George Albert, who was able to resume his life and work after his breakdown, that included depression and anxiety, and continue working for almost 40 years.

Rather than being downplayed, George Albert’s successful battle with depression, anxiety, and health-related issues should be a teaching tool to help members today who suffer from the same maladies. These are unique problems; just look at Utah’s statistics regrading depression, pain killers and tranquilizer use.

George Albert Smith biographer, Mary Jane Woodger, a BYU professor of LDS church history and doctrine, penned a detailed look at the breakdown in the Fall 2008 edition of the Journal of Mormon History. “Cheat the Asylum of a Victim:” George Albert Smith’s 1909-12 Breakdown” refers to advice the 40-year-old George Albert, “down from nervous frustration,” received from his uncle, Dr. Heber J. Sears, who pleaded with George Albert to “dump your responsibility for a while before the hearse dumps your bones.”

As Woodger relates, physical and emotional health issues plagued George Albert all of his life. His eyesight was damaged early in his life while working as a surveyor. When he was called to be an apostle at age 33 in 1903, his father, apostle John Henry Smith, said, “He’s not healthy. He won’t last long,” relates Woodger.

It’s true that 100-plus years ago apostles had very rigorous jobs. They were not insulated from the public like today’s LDS leaders. They often traveled long stretches over tough routes in wagons, trains and early auto vehicles. It was the custom for traveling apostles to stay in the homes of local church members, rather than paid lodgings. For George Albert, who suffered from bowel discomforts, the rich food often served caused great discomfort. According to Woodger, the young apostle “averaged 30,000 miles a year as a young apostle.” Experiences included riding on top of a crowded boxcar on a hot day and a cold, rainy night in a wagon that leaked. Dysentery, perhaps enhanced due to stress, also plagued George Albert often.

The strenuous work schedule also affected his wife, Lucy Emily. She often worried about her husband’s health, fretted over his frequent absence from the family, and frequently bemoaned how his absence affected her.

As Woodger writes, “… mental or emotional instability was seldom given much attention except for outright insanity in the early 20th century.” However, three of his grandchildren cite terms such as “depression,” problems associated with his mental health,” “tremendous stress,” and “being overwhelmed” as attributes of their grandfather. According to Woodger, George Albert often over-exerted himself in his work. He would also over-invest himself emotionally in the work of others, and end up emotionally overwrought at their failures. It’s worth noting that psychiatry as an accepted treatment in Utah was virtually non-existent for the first third of the 20th century.

After George Albert became too exhausted to work, LDS Church leaders — who were compassionate, encouraging and caring during his convalescence — moved him to Ocean Park, Calif., to recuperate. Away from his wife, Lucy, who stayed in Salt Lake City, George Albert did not improve and returned to Salt Lake City in August 1909. To try to improve his health, he lived in a tent outdoors, but mostly he remained ill, weak and bedridden. According to Woodger’s research, “George Albert’s father (apostle John Henry Smith) even took the unusual step of sending him ‘a dozen bottles of Basses Pale Ale,’ a British beer, assuring him that he had Joseph F. Smith’s ‘endorsement’ to drink it in the hopes that it would ‘tone up your stomach and put you in a condition to receive and assimilate food.’”

According to an anecdote that has been repeated many times in Mormon churches, during his convalescence, George Albert visited his deceased grandfather, George A. Smith, who asked him, “I would like to know what you have done with my name?” After George Albert answered that he had never shamed him, the pair hugged. Woodger writes, “This dream reassured him (George Albert) that he was free from transgression and acknowledged his worth.”

The still-bedridden George Albert was moved to St. George to recuperate. While there, again according to Mormon lore, his long recovery began when he requested that the Lord take him if his earthly work was done but keep him if he still had work to do. Although it’s hard to believe the apostle had not made that prayerful request earlier in his convalescence, of such tales are legends made, and George Albert returned to Salt Lake City and a slow recovery.

His recovery, whether through prayer, extended rest, or both, is a triumphant account, and the compassion and patience exercised by his colleagues in the church hierarchy also must have played a role in his recovery.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs

First John D. Lee trial waged in the court of public opinion

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In the Winter 2013 “Journal of Mormon History,” there’s an interesting article from Robert H. Briggs, a lawyer and historian from California. “A Seething Cauldron of Controversy: The First Trial of John D. Lee, 1875,” reminds us that lawyer’s spin and arguments designed more to convince the public than the jury box are not recent inventions; such practices were popular 138 years ago in cases argued in locations as obscure as Beaver, Utah.

Lee, an “adopted”child of the Mormon prophet Brigham Young, was the only person on trial for the Mountain Meadows Massacre, which occurred in 1857. The crime was horrific; women, children and families slaughtered by men who had promised the victims safety. Other than the practice of polygamy, it was the main source of national hatred and disgust for the latter 19th century Mormons of Utah.

Yet, as the first trial approached, the prosecution was well aware that a conviction of Lee was going to be impossible to obtain. The majority of the jurors would be Utah Mormons, and they would acquit Lee, who still enjoyed Young’s support and was consequently seen by most Utah Mormons as a symbol of the federal government’s persecution of their faith.

As Briggs relates in his article, “Knowing the power of the federal onslaught that was to descend upon Mormon Utah in the 1880s, it is surprising to consider just how weak, frustrated, and marginalized the Liberals (anti-Mormons) felt in the mid-1870s.” The only success so far for the anti-Mormons had been preventing Utah from becoming a state. In terms of amending the territory’s leadership, state capitol, state constitution, state boundaries, taking away Mormons’ property, and so on, most had been failures. As Briggs relates, some reasons were overzealous crusading officials, including a judge, who were recalled by federal officials, and a split between the Utah Liberals themselves over how to combat polygamy.

With that track record, it was no surprise that so much time had passed before a trial for the Mountain Meadows Massacre, or that the one scapegoat to be tried, Lee, was unlikely to be convicted. As Briggs notes, the one insider prosecution witness was former LDS Bishop Philip Klingensmith, once of Cedar City. While he had insider knowledge of the massacre, he had long been hounded out of the Mormon Church, and was considered a traitor by Utah Mormons.

Instead of winning a conviction being the prosecution’s chief objective, Briggs notes that the architects of the Lee prosecution, William C. Carey, U.S. Attorney in Utah Territory, and his assistant prosecutor, Robert N. Baskin, de-emphasized the usual focus of a trial — “the guilt or innocence of the accused” — for a broader initiative that focused on the actions of militia commands stretching throughout Utah. The initial target, opines Briggs, was George A. Smith, a counselor in the church’s First Presidency as well as an apostle. As Briggs notes, “If they could implicate Smith, it would be but a short step to implicate Brigham Young himself.”

History records that neither Smith nor Young ever paid a legal price for the Mountain Meadows Massacre, but it wasn’t for lack of effort by Carey and Baskin, two fervent “Liberal” anti-Mormons of that period. Both prosecutors were fully aware of the national interest in the Lee trial, and they argued their case with an eye toward the press coverage that accusations would garner. Baskin even had the good fortune to be lodging with Frederic Lockley, editor of the Mormon-hostile Salt Lake Tribune, who covered the trial.

As Briggs writes, “They (Carey and Baskin) foresaw the political capital they would gain if the evidence revealed the horrors of the massacre, even if the jury failed to convict Lee. The proceeding, as they conceived of it, would be a political show trial. The prosecutors’ specific strategy was to make the Lee trial into a referendum on the tyranny and corruption of the Mormon hierarchy and the fanaticism of its deluded followers.”

And the newspapers rewarded the prosecution for its effort. Here are some news articles accounts from the trial: “Mountain Meadows — The Sickening Story Coming Out … Hints as to the Real Criminal,” Decatur (Ill.) Daily Republican; “If those Mormon witnesses keep telling the truth about the Mountain Meadows Massacre, old Brigham Young may have occasion to wish he had died naturally, when he was sick last winter,” Steubenville (Ohio) Daily Herald; The Morning Oregonian, of Portland, Ore., had banner coverage of Klingensmith’s testimony. The trial gained media steam as it continued.

Baskin’s summary argument for the prosecution was a masterpiece of rhetoric. He ignored the shaky evidence that while Lee was certainly at the massacre, it was by no means proven he was the leader, and instead attacked every male member of the Mormon Church as lacking the manhood to stand up and do what was right. Baskin was arguing that Mormon men were not free agents and would do whatever their church leaders told them to do.

As Briggs recounts, “Later Baskin asked rhetorically why none of the militiamen involved in the massacre had prevented or even protested the killings. Answering his own question, Baskin argued that it was because ‘when they became a member of the (Mormon) Church … they laid down their manhood; they laid down their individuality.”

He was right, of course, but how could the eight Mormon men on the jury accept that rebuke? By voting to acquit, of course.

But an acquittal had been neutralized by the prosecution’s successful media strategy. The winner of John D. Lee’s first trial was the prosecution, with its attack on the Mormon hierarchy in which the massacre had occurred.

It can be argued that the first trial not only sealed Lee’s fate, it paved the way for the taming of the Mormon polygamous empire in Utah by the federal government. A year later, Lee was executed. Abandoned by Brigham Young, without the implied protection of Utah’s leaders, he was quickly convicted and condemned. Not long afterward, Brigham Young died. His successor, John Taylor, spent much of his tenure as Mormon prophet hiding from law enforcement. In little more than 15 years, the LDS Church, facing financial ruin, would make its first renunciation of polygamy with The Manifesto, signed by then-prophet Wilford W. Woodruff.

There were of course many other reasons for the Utah Mormon Church’s slow subjection to the federal government during the last half of the 19th century, but Briggs’ interesting account of the first Lee trial provides evidence that a significant media salvo on the Mormon leaders was accomplished in a Beaver courthouse during July and August of 1875. In the court of public opinion, the Mormons were the big losers.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs