Mormons, Catholics both have to deal with dark side of their histories

 

There’s an interesting article in the Fall 2013 issue of The Journal of Mormon History. “Evil in the Family: Mormons and Catholics Struggling with the Dark Side of Their Histories,” by Father Daniel P. Dwyer, notes that both the Catholic and Mormon faiths claim their church as the one established by Jesus Christ. Yet, he adds, both faiths share atrocities committed by the most seemingly devout members of the respective faiths.

A lot of Mormons may take offense at their church being adversely compared to Catholicism’s long history of misdeeds. But compare these two accounts of atrocities, offered by Dwyer. Here is the first:

“Enrico and the rest of the band held a council and, after sunrise, attacked the Jews in the hall with arrows and lances. Breaking the bolts and the doors, they killed the Jews, about seven hundred in number, who in vain resisted the force and attack of so many thousands. They killed the women also, and with their swords pierced tender children of whatever age and sex. The Jews seeing that their Christian enemies were attacking them and their children, and they were sparing no age, likewise fell upon one another, brothers, children, wives and sisters, and thus they perished at each other’s hands. Horrible to say, mothers cut the throats of nursing children with knives and stabbed others, preferring them to perish thus by their own hands rather than to be killed by the weapons of the uncircumcised.”

Here’s the other example:

“I saw several bones of what must have been very small children. Dr. Brewer says from what he saw he thinks some of the infants were butchered. The mothers doubtless had these in their arms, and the same shot or blow may have deprived both of life.

“The scene of the massacre, even at this late day, was horrible to look upon. Women’s hair, in detached locks and masses, hung to (sic) the sage brushes and was strewn over the ground in many places. Parts of little children’s dresses and of female costume dangled from the shrubbery or lay scattered about; and among these, here and there, on every hand, for at least a mile in the direction of the road, by two miles east and west. there gleamed, bleached white by the weather, the skulls and other bones of those who had suffered. A glance into the wagon when all these had been collected revealed a sight which can never be forgotten.”

The former is an account of Catholic crusaders in 1096 killing Jews trapped in a hall, put there by a bishop for their “protection.” The latter is an 1859 account of the Mountain Meadows Massacre. Two years earlier Mormon “crusaders” had massacred non-Mormon settlers traveling to California. The massacre occurred as the settlers were being led to “safety.”

These are acts of pure evil, encouraged by Satan, if one is a believer. How does one square these massacres with belief in a faith? Dwyer offers three options: “we can try to rationalize the evil and explain it away; we can abandon our respective faiths and deal with, or ignore evil, from the perspective of outsiders; or we can try to admit and understand the evil and look for ways our traditions can help us cope with the aftermath and prevent recurrences.”

The third option is often attempted — at least in part — on a singular basis. The LDS Church, for example, has expressed regret for the massacre, among other gestures. The Catholic Church has attempted apologies for much of its sordid history and the priest sexual abuse scandals of the past several decades. However, to fully attempt to live the third option requires consistency. Example: the first option — rationalize and explain away — more or less still defines the LDS Church’s reaction to its “Jim Crow” policies toward blacks in the church, which lasted until 1978.

And, as Dwyer notes, the third option, to be consistent, must apply to all members of a faith, even the most powerful. Compare these two declaration, both from the same era. The first, from Pope Pius IX, in 1864, the Syllabus of Errors (NOTE THAT THE FOLLOWING WAS URGED NOT TO BE BELIEVED BY CATHOLICS):

“Good hope at least is to be entertained of the eternal salvation of all those who are not at all in the true Church of Christ.”

“Protestantism is nothing more than another form of the same true Christian religion.”

“The church is not a true and perfect society.”

“The Roman pontiffs have, by their too arbitrary conduct, contributed to the division of the Church into Eastern and Western.”

“Catholics may approve of the system of educating youths unconnected with the Catholic faith and the power of the Church.”

“The Church ought to be separated from the State, and the State from the Church.”

“In the present day it is no longer expedient that the Catholic religion should be held as the only religion of the state.”

“The Roman Pontiff can, and ought to, reconcile himself, and come to terms with progress, liberalism and modern civilization.”

And, in early 1857, several months prior to the Mountain Meadows Massacre, LDS Church leaders Brigham Young shared this with the Saints in Salt Lake City, relates Dwyer:

“I have known a great many men who have left this church for whom there is no chance whatever for exaltation, but if their blood had been spilled, it would have been better for them. The wickedness and ignorance of the nations forbid this principle’s being in full force.

“This is loving your neighbor as ourselves; if he needs help, help him; and if he wants salvation and it is necessary to spill his blood on the earth in order that he may be saved, spill it. Any of you who understand the principles of eternity, if you have sinned a sin requiring the shedding of blood, except the sin unto death, would not be satisfied nor rest until your blood should be spilled, that you might gain that salvation you desire. That is the way to love mankind.”

Both statements, from Pius IX and Brigham Young, are repugnant, and remind of the theology of radical Islam today. While Young’s words are more violent, the state theology espoused by the late pope would have likely led to violence. Yet, I’m glad Dwyer chose these two examples, precisely because both Pius IX and Young are beloved, often-honored figures within their faiths. Nevertheless, they made statements that no sensible Catholic, or Mormon, would adhere to today.

As Dwyer notes, there are contexts to the above statements. Both faced challenges by hostile powers. Both wanted to consolidate power for what they felt was a good cause. When looking at these examples, it’s best to understand that doctrine and practices for both faiths, Catholic and Mormon, is dynamic, in fact more dynamic than many members or leaders might see or admit to. That’s a good thing. A failure for any religion to change many of its practices or beliefs would nearly always lead to, at least, social ostracism, or at worst, violence and tragedy.

Later in the JMH essay, Dwyer compares the doctrine of papal infallibility with the role of a Mormon prophet. What happens when a pope, or an LDS prophet, spouts something that isn’t true? One example is Young’s failed effort to institute the “Adam-God Doctrine.” Dwyer offers these explanations:

“... even some of our own people misunderstand the doctrine of papal infallibility. It does not mean that a pope is always correct — even when he teaches doctrine. His teaching is infallible only under severely limited conditions. … So if Pope Francis told me the sky was green, it would still be blue.” Later, Dwyer answers the confusion Mormons may feel over Young’s insistence that Adam was God by writing, “If he was wrong, how could he have been a prophet, seer and revelator? Or, as in Catholicism, is the exercise of of the prophetic ministry something that happens only in very defined situations?”

These are interesting topics, and Dwyer’s article explores even more similarities and conflicts between Catholicism and Mormonism. What’s most beneficial is the advice that both faiths acknowledge a sometimes adverse, and wicked, past and that practical dynamism, and human fallibility, will create leaders who make mistakes, even in a church that proclaims itself THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST.

As Dwyer notes, in Romans 3:23, it reads “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” The late Mormon scholar Eugene England extolled the strength of the church, its structure, its fellowship, and its role as a place to gain strength and learn to be a more godly individual; all of that occurs, of course, in the present and the future.

--- Doug Gibson

--- Originally published at StandardBlogs in 2013.

Why is prayer defined as a genie who grants selective pleas?

 

With some edits, originally published in 2012 at StandardBlogs

Why do so many church lessons about the power of prayer always have to follow this format: Either the man upstairs magisterially — like a genie — grants your frantic plea for personal safety or personal betterment, or he prompts you, with a warm fuzzy feeling, to check on somebody or something, or pull over on the highway, etc., thereby sparing you or a loved one(s) an unfortunate accident or death.

Why can’t the power of prayer be defined as a tool that allows you to offer to God your gratitude for just being on earth, and having prayer as a component — along with Scripture study and following the Golden Rule, etc. — that helps make you a better person? Why does its power have to be attached with “believe-it-or-not” testimonials that would sound cheesy even on a late-night infomercial?

I’m not making this stuff up. I recall a mostly useful church lesson on the power of prayer. Prayer is a device, that if you value it, can get you through the night, or a life, if needed. But it’s not a “get-out-of jail-free card.” I concede that two “real-life” examples of prayer’s power may not be intended to show that God plays favorites, but I can see how the countless unfortunates who didn’t get a miraculous hand from God may feel otherwise.

The first involved a young man who went to swim beyond the breakers in the Southern California. Not surprisingly, the foolish swimmer, presumably alone, was carried away by high waves. About to drown, he prayed furiously to God that he could clutch the barnacle-encrusted pier pillar he was moving toward. Despite cutting himself, he hung on to the log pillar and was able to pray himself to shallow water. Prayer saved him is the moral of the story.

Or it could be that God looks after fools. I was a lifeguard a long time ago, and I do know that anyone who goes into deep water with waves alone is a fool. Did prayer save that man? I don’t believe so. My God respects natural law. Only a person who has never carried in — too late — a drowning victim to shore would believe such Pabulum that was pitched in a an ecclesiastical manual. Millions of unfortunates — foolish or otherwise — who have drowned no doubt furiously prayed for deliverance until incoming water silenced their pleas.

The second example of prayer’s power involved the story of a father who suddenly felt inspired to pray for his young toddler son. Later, dad learned that junior had fallen into the river. Just before the youngster was to be permanently thrust under water and slashed and brutalized by stones and rocks, a wave, presto, erupted out of thin air, lifting the lucky toddler out of the water and onto the shore. Prayer saves the lucky one again!

But what of the prayers from fathers, mothers, family members and friends when an unfortunate, baby, toddler, or older individual, falls into the water or slips under a raging river or stream? Or those carried by waves into the sea with loved ones within eyesight? These tragedies -- and other types -- happen every year. Were their prayers less favored, or important? Did Y survive a deadly disease instead of X when the prayers for both were equally fervent, and desperate?

The late Christopher Hitchens was no fan of prayer, I imagine, but he did understand gratitude. To survive the many obstacles that nature puts to us from the time we are conceived until birth is quite a gift, he wrote. To give thanks for every second of the gift of life is appropriate. To ask God to look after you, even protect you from harm, is appropriate. To ask God to give you the strength to survive adversity is even better. 

I recall a man cited prayer as a contributing factor to his finding the body of a toddler who drowned in 2012, thereby bringing peace to his grieving family. That I can believe.

I’m sure most of us, if in a desperate situation, will pray to God for deliverance. That is human nature. If we stop for a hamburger and miss being a participant in a tragic event because of that, we may foolishly think it was divine grace that led us to the burger.

But keep such boasting to yourself, and please omit it from religious lesson manuals.

-- Doug Gibson

Review: Frank J. Cannon: Saint, Senator, Scoundrel

 

Is there even a statue of Frank Jenne Cannon in Ogden, Utah? Maybe a photo somewhere in a city or Weber County building, or perhaps Union Station, a passion of Frank Cannon's? After all, he was the fellow who helped create today's Ogden Standard-Examiner newspaper (still kicking -- barely -- as the largest Utah -- sort of -- daily newspaper still printing its paper). He was the Standard's first firebrand editor. I am proud of having wrote editorials in a newspaper Frank once penned them for,

He was one of Utah's first U.S. senators. Before that, he was a territorial representative to the U.S. Congress.

His talents for patience, diplomacy, coupled with his Utah elite name, enabled him to travel back east, whether to New York City or Washington D.C., and negotiate with U.S. presidents and congressmen over touchy issues, from how hard Congress would hammer the territory of Utah, which Gentile judges would sentence Utah polygamists, and also the fate of Utah's impending statehood.

When the man spoke in public, he would fill halls beyond capacity. In between bouts of drunkenness, LDS Church leaders pressured him to finish ghost-writing assignments, including "The Life of Joseph Smith," a book credited to his father.

Frank J. Cannon is buried in Ogden. As Val Holley notes in his superb biography of Frank J., "Frank J. Cannon: Saint, Senator, Scoundrel," The University of Utah Press, 2020, his death in 1934, at 74, attracted only a few plaudits, most notably from early Ogden journalist Olin A. Kennedy, who noted that "more than any other man," Cannon "negotiated [the] truce that led to peace between Mormons and Gentiles here in Utah," records Holley.

During the last score years of his life, Utah political and ecclesiastical leaders had other words to describe Frank. They included "unspeakable," "vile," and even "Son of Perdition," a quote allegedly from LDS Church President Joseph F. Smith. 

Frank J. Cannon was born in 1859 to George Q. Cannon and his polygamous wife, Sarah Jenne Cannon. He married in 1878, to Martha Brown, of Ogden. It would last until her death in 1909. Although Frank, a graduate of Deseret University at 19, impressed with his skills in writing, persuasion and business acumen, he was prone to alcoholic binges and, soon after his marriage, adultery. He seduced an immigrant servant woman, impregnating her. The baby was eventually adopted to a relative family. 

Holley doesn't gloss over Frank's problems with inebriation. The alcoholic binges, likely fueled from business, political and family/ecclesiastical stress, were frequent enough that Frank's family, notably half-brother and business partner Abram, would have to search for him through Salt Lake City red-light districts, including brothels. 

In the book, family father and leader George Q. Cannon is pictured as an authority figure, spending little quality time with his sons, preferring to lecture and counsel them through letters. It's fair to wonder if the emotional absence of a father figure contributed to his sons' dysfunctions. Besides Frank, an older, more-favored half-brother, general authority John Q. Cannon, seduced his own wife's sister. The affair ended in tragedy when the woman, Louie Wells -- briefly married to the temporarily excommunicated and divorced John Q. -- suffered a miscarriage and later died. 

Half-brother Abram, who eventually became member of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles, followed his father in embracing polygamy. One of the reasons was dad's desire to make sure a deceased son would have an eternal marriage beyond the grave. This kind of stress, including overwork, likely contributed to Abram's early death at 37, from meningitis. He had recently taken a fourth wife, notes Holley.

Although his adverse antics were frequently lamented -- and later in life re-emphasized by his former allies -- Frank largely escaped any long-term ecclesiastical sanction in the first half of his life. Frankly, his talents were needed by the territory of Utah and its dominant faith. He had an abundance of knowledge and eloquence that often impressed financiers and politicians. The LDS Church of the latter half of the 19th century faced real, and frightening possibilities of losing all its economic capital as well as imprisonment of its leaders. 

Over a period of a decade plus, Frank contributed to a gradual reduction of congressional punishment towards Utah. Accomplishments included easing judicial pressure on the state, helping the First Manifesto against polygamy occur and convincing Washington D.C. powers that Utah was ready to be admitted as a state. These happenings, chronicled in detail by Holley's meticulous research, were not easy accomplishments. They were frequent setbacks, including the capture of family patriarch George Q. Cannon. In the biography, Holley details a hare-brained scheme to rescue George Q. via a holdup on a train. Fortunately, the plan never reached a felonious stage. 

Frank was an opponent of polygamy, accurately believing that its eradication was the key to Utah's acceptance. The church's failure to stick to its Manifesto promises for a generation would be integral to his eventual disaffection with church leaders, his criticism of, and excommunication. 

Holley covers well the power struggle between Frank and his father, George Q., to become a Republican U.S. senator in 1896. Frank was the favorite for the seat. His father, backed by LDS Church leadership, ran a coy, shadow campaign, falsely denying he wanted the position. In a long struggle, Frank outlasted the wishes of dad and the First Presidency, winning appointment from the Legislature.

The cycles of partisan power had prevented his election to the House -- as a Republican -- a few years earlier, although he briefly served there just prior to becoming a senator. His nearly three-year tenure in the Senate was rocky. Although his pro-silver politics and opposition to a single gold standard was popular, Holley writes that his opposition to a trade bill that favored sugar interests sunk his popularity in Utah. Frank's attempts to grow a "Silver Republican" party were not successful and he was not re-elected in 1899, although his seat would remain vacant until 1901. He eventually became a Democrat.

George Q. Cannon's death in 1901 initially reinforced Frank's Mormon faith, which he had severely tested with criticisms of church leaders, including Heber J. Grant. Holley notes that his tithing was far, far more impressive than his long church-reinstated brother John Q's offerings, for example.

Yet his break with the church was imminent. The ascendency of Joseph F. Smith as president, as well as clandestine LDS polygamy despite two Manifestos, hastened his withdrawal. He also opposed Mormon apostle Reed Smoot's election to the U.S. Senate. During a short tenure as editor with the anti-Mormon Salt Lake Tribune, Frank's harsh editorials against the LDS Church leadership, notably Joseph F. Smith, led to his excommunication. It was an ugly split, one that contributes to Frank's diminished status in history today. 

In 1909 his wife Martha died. Soon after he married her younger sister, May. That union lasted until his death. 

He would move to Denver, work as a journalist. He used his skills there to help bring down a corrupt municipality and prevent a corrupt mayor from becoming a U.S. senator. He later moved further in muckraking, with Mormonism as his target. He co-authored two books. The more successful was "Under the Prophet in Utah," which led Frank to a several-year success on the lecture circuit, condemning Mormonism, its prophet, and extolling Christianity as a solution to the nation's ills. The book even led to a Broadway play, "'Polygamy."

During this period of anti-Mormon activism, Frank would occasionally be followed and challenged by LDS missionaries and other church leaders while on the lecture circuit. He became a permanent major villain within the church. Nevertheless, he was a still popular draw when he visited Utah to lecture or promote his books, which were also serialized in magazines.

The final dozen years of his life were quieter, although he still retained enough prominence to appear before Congress and lobby presidents for a pro-silver policy. Bimetallism, silver, was likely his biggest passion. Late in life he pitched a plan to revive China's economy through a massive loan of silver to that nation. He advocated silver policies in writing up to his death, notes Holley.

A promising business venture in ores, including lead, was hampered by the Great Depression. His once fervent faith in Christianity cooled during the Roaring 20s. Holley recounts that late in life Frank considered himself an agnostic. Two of his three children died before him; his son months before his own death. Holley surmises that Frank's death from an abdominal condition may have resulted in part from grief over his son's death. 

I have omitted much of Frank's business ventures in this review. They do involve a substantial portion of Holley's research. They vary from bookselling ventures with his brothers to newspaper startups and acquisitions, as well as frequent times Frank represented the Mormon leadership in business. He encountered businesspeople of principle as well as charlatans. He invested in power companies, as well as fads including "liquid air" and "vapor light." He published books and invested in a planned film adaptation of "Under the Prophet in Utah." It turned out to be a scam that landed the swindler a felony conviction.

Holley accurately presents the paradox that was Frank J. Cannon. He's a difficult man to judge. Perhaps we shouldn't. He was imperfect in morals, and in his anger exaggerated claims against the faith he had once espoused. But, as Holley notes, his detractors exaggerated his claims, and withdrew any merit he had earned. Frank J. Cannon was also accurate in a chief charge -- that church leaders were not truthful -- for a long time -- in repudiating polygamy. 

It's well past time that Frank J., the scoundrel of the Cannons, get some notice for his many achievements. Holley's biography is a valuable, interesting read. Maybe it will lead to a statue for Frank J. (You can buy the biography via Amazon here).

-- Doug Gibson

Enjoy the Cal Grondahl cartoon below.

Darryl F. Zanuck brought Brigham Young to the big screen

 

This review originally ran in StandardBlogs.

By Doug Gibson

Just watched the 1940 film, “Brigham Young”: Two major observations; It was a pleasant surprise to see how favorably a major Hollywood studio would treat the Mormons less than 20 years after “Trapped by the Mormons” scared British audiences. The anti-Mormon mob characters were as evil as any bad guy in an action film.

Second, the film is a bland, sugar and spice look at the LDS’s Church’s second prophet — it’s chock full of historical inaccuracies. But celluloid license was not unusual in that era. Better films, including “The Good Earth,” “Pride and Prejudice,” and “Of Mice and Men” were harmed by irresponsible changes by directors. Examples: Joseph Smith is convicted of insurrection just prior to being murdered; The Saints abandon Nauvoo, more or less entirely, in just a few hours!; the prophet Young doubts his calling through most of the film; polygamy is barely discussed, most notably in playful dialogue between romantic leads Tyrone Power (a young Mormon man) and Linda Darnell (a non-Mormon woman accompanying his family to the Salt Lake Valley).

The film entertains at times, although Henry Hathaway’s direction is sluggish and overwrought. The plot is derivative, and Mormonism’s historical eccentricities and religious uniqueness are not explored. Though in black and white, producer Darryl F. Zanuck used many film strategies that were used in “Gone With the Wind,” such as large text with grave music to transfer scenes and settings, melodramatic characters, such as a Mormon grandma who dies on the plains, and there are impressive high-budget special effects, such as the burning of Nauvoo, framed beyond a freezing lake the Saints use to escape, and the miracle of the seagulls eating grasshoppers threatening Mormon crops in the Salt Lake valley. The latter scene is particularly effective.

The cast is great, even cultish. A young Vincent Price plays Joseph Smith, a wild-looking John Carradine is great as Mormon vigilante Porter Rockwell. Dean Jagger not only plays Brigham Young well, he looks a lot like him as well. Mary Astor is great as Young’s first wife, Mary Ann. Another interesting cast member is Brian Donlevy as “villain” Angus Duncan. Those familiar with Mormon history will notice that “Duncan” actually is a composite of three real characters: John C. Bennett, who turned against the church for financial and prurient reasons; Sidney Rigdon, who left the church after losing a power struggle to Young after Smith’s death; and finally, “Duncan” is also Samuel Brannan, an early church leader who apostasized after failing to convince Young to move the Saints to California.

The film is easy to find on VHS or DVD, but I have not seen it on TV. It seems a natural to be scheduled on Turner Classic Movies. According to the book, “The Hollywood Hall of Shame,” written by the Medved brothers,, Harry and Michael. the film was a financial flop at the box office. However, Medved-authored film books have not always been completely reliable. Moroni Olsen, an Ogden-born actor who played “Doc Richards,” was a faithful Mormon. Jagger, by the way, was so impressed by then-LDS Church President Heber J. Grant’s praise of his performance that he began a long interest in Mormonism that resulted in his baptism to the church in 1972. A recent DVD release of “Brigham Young” includes newsreel footage of the film’s premiere in Salt Lake City.

A Variety review published on Dec. 31, 1939, included this paragraph: “Jagger brings to the character of the Mormon leader a personable humaness and sympathy. Astor turns in one of the finest performances of her career. Power and Darnell are overshadowed by the above twain.”

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