The stories we hear and are surrounded by frame our world, influence our outlook and understanding. They affect our sense of who we are, and our place in the world. They can broaden our horizons, or keep us to a narrow focus. What do the stories we find in our lesson manuals and church magazines say about us, say about the things that are considered to be important?
One much discussed topic is the results now being seen of a whitewashed or faith-promoting church history; something the Gospel Topics essays on lds.org are now attempting to address, in some cases rather more successfully than others. They seek to broaden the telling of the bigger stories.
In her recent article in the Salt Lake Tribune/Huffington Post Peggy Fletcher Stack quotes historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich as saying:
“People may be comforted in the short run by platitudes, but I don’t think that leads to growth or to effective action. The answer isn’t to replace simplistic stories with footnoted essays. It is to tell better, more complete, stories, stories that are true, that touch issues people really care about.”
A contrast to views expressed by historian Kathleen Flake, quoted in the same article as saying:
“No religion I know of would want to turn its founding stories into history, at least as history is understood today in a scientific sense. Faith is not about fact; nor about fiction, for that matter. It’s certainly not a question of sophistication, at all, but of religious sense.”
It isn’t just the bigger stories that influence our lives, but the smaller stories as well. I don’t always appreciate the religious messages they sometimes seem to be sending. I commented on a story I recalled from a YW manual on Mormon Heretic’s recent post:
“I recall a grim story in one manual growing up specifically about a mother for whom bringing to term a baby would mean death, and how she wrote a diary for that baby knowing she would die. Not sure what the point of that was in a YW manual. It seemed to me to rather romanticise the very sad situation.”
I’ve also been on record a few times in the comments on various posts, saying that I think we take the wrong lessons from the stories we tell about the privations endured by the saints in the Martin and Willie handcart companies; that we use it as an example of sacrifice in a way that paints all sacrifice as good and necessary. I don’t regard that as a good thing.
I’ve expressed similar concerns for some of the stories that find their way into the Friend and the New Era magazines, which influence our children and youth. My daughter was particularly appalled some years ago by the story of a girl who gave up her ice skating class in order to attend early morning seminary. As though early morning seminary was the only way to study scripture and thus more important than developing a talent.
In his recent post over at T&S, Wilfried Decoo expresses concern about the stories missionaries choose to tell about their mission experiences via social media and video.
I was particularly heartened, in the brief research I carried out in connection with my earlier post on the European Sister’s Meeting. Elder Ballard mentioned his great-grandmother handcart pioneer Margaret McNeill. I was especially heartened by the following recorded in an online biography of Margaret McNeill:
“We were planning to go to Utah with the handcart company, but Franklin D. Richards counseled my father not to go in that company, for which we were afterwards thankful because of the great suffering and privations, and cold weather which these people were subject to. There were many of the company who were frozen that year on the plains.”
Her family opted to remain behind, and joined a later handcart company. Did they have an easy journey? No. She walked all the way, often carrying her brother. She once found herself standing in a nest of snakes whilst searching for a missing cow. But, it was a better journey than it would have been otherwise. Why was I heartened? Because choosing to wait was a sensible choice, and those who did so were faithful members, whose stories we rarely, if ever, hear, whilst the experiences of the Willie and Martin companies are romanticised, and celebrated in music as recently as last year.
I’ve also been somewhat heartened by the new youth curriculum materials, which encourage more discussion of the lesson subject matter. The articles they link to are not always so nuanced however, and the presentation will depend very much on the teacher.
I tend to side with Ulrich, that we need to tell better, more complete stories.
Wilfried’s remarks in the comments on his post about the wider responsibilities missionaries should recognise towards families of converts, a subject he covered more broadly in this earlier post, reminded me of my husband’s experience. Very often we hear stories of converts who have had to turn away from their family when they join the church, and the sacrifice they make to do so. We see these stories as examples of great faith. And the telling of them feeds expectations perhaps, that this is just the way things are. But do things really need to be that way? Would we do better to have more nuance in the stories we tell, and the stories we hear?
My husband was a convert to the church shortly before he turned 20, the age at which a person is considered an adult, in Japan. He was a student in Britain at the time. We met for the first time a few weeks later. Upon completing his university degree, my husband wished to serve a mission. Something his family was dead set against. And understandably so. My husband had spent his teenage years in the British education system, when his father was sent here by his employers. However, this was a posting of only a few years, at the end of which he was recalled to Japan. In order not to interrupt his children’s education, my father-in-law applied for a further overseas posting, which would mean his employers would continue to fund the children’s education in Britain. Accordingly he and his wife spent the next several years in Saudi Arabia, which must have been particularly hard on my mother-in-law, whilst my husband and brothers were able to continue their education undisrupted. My husband’s maternal grandfather had had a hand in the job interviews he had attended, and my husband was due to begin work in a large Japanese engineering company as a graduate trainee. He consulted with family about his desire to serve a mission, including his maternal grandfather. The answer he got was an emphatic no. My husband had no desire to go against his family, and his Bishop was perhaps unusual in being of the opinion that it was wholly impractical for Japanese men to be required to serve a mission anyway. For the next three years he completed his graduate training, and had prayerfully decided to set to work on his family history. He was able to get a lot of information from his maternal grandfather, in addition to writing to the various relevant municipal offices requesting copies of family records. Copies he still has today. By the end of those three years, he had been able to complete his direct line family history for 4 generations, including having temple work done for those deceased ancestors; his ward members had been happy to help him with the temple ordinances. He had also been able to save enough money to fund a mission himself, with enough left over to return to university for his Masters degree afterwards. So again, he approached his family about serving a mission. This time, although not exactly delighted, particularly since a job for life with a good company was very much a thing in Japan at the time, they gave their permission, his maternal grandfather commenting, that he supposed my husband was still young enough to start again afterwards. My husband was 24 when he left to serve a mission. I am grateful that my husband was able to work with his family, that we have a good relationship with them. He was further blessed by having been able to obtain copies of family history records that would no longer be readily available, and his experience working in a Japanese engineering company is proving beneficial now.
I like this story. It’s true, and it goes against expected patterns in so many ways, where there often seems to be a sense of hurry in approaching the next hurdle to be ticked off in life’s journey.
- Do you see a contradiction in the views put forward by Ulrich and Flake?
- How or how not?
- What stories would you choose to tell and why?
Discuss.
Edit (13/3/15): The Margaret McNeill biography page linked is currently showing as Not Found. A biography including the excerpt quoted can also be seen here.
Wheat & Tares 
I think that one of the fallacies that has developed in our church culture is that all faith-promoting stories should reflect an elusive ideal – details that could potentially be seen as negative should be omitted.
The historian’s view I think is similar to that – stories of a church’s heritage are useful in promoting a religious sense. Gritty historical details detract from the faithful messages. The Tribune article mentioned many people who actually preferred the whitewashed version of the church’s history, the essays ended up causing more harm than good for them.
If I’m reading an autobiographical account, I’m going to find it more convincing if the person admits negative feelings and experiences. That tells me that this person is describing real life, and therefore their faithful uplifting stories/testimonies will weigh more in my mind. I find it harder to be uplifted by whitewashed stories – they feel unrealistic.
A few months back I was participating in meeting planning a largescale family reunion for descendants of a specific Mormon pioneer. One person brought up an idea of gathering all the folklore that had been passed down in the various descendant lines about this pioneer. As they gave examples of stories they were thinking of, several of us on the research side started pointing out that many of the stories had been proven false, or at least significantly exaggerated. We felt that if we were to publish any of these, we’d want to add caveats with the true details given. What shocked me was that many of the older members fought the idea tooth and nail – it didn’t matter to them whether the stories were factually correct. What mattered was that they were part of our heritage as common descendants, and the stories were inspiring us to live up to a faithful ideal. I suggested maybe also including stories that were factually correct and reflected the spunk and indepence of the pioneer family members (some of which included defiance of religious leaders), those were quickly shot down. Only stories that reflected faithful obedience were to be included. Defiance was considered an embarassment to the family, yet it was those types of stories that made me feel like I could laugh and hang out with my Mormon ancestors. They were the ones that convinced me these were real people. Stubborn and opinionated? Yep, definitely my relatives. 🙂
This is a bigger issue than just church history. Some people just don’t like airing dirty laundry or bringing up past grievances. Some things belong in the past and should be forgotten, but we just can’t agree on what should be forgotten and what should be remembered.
This post reminded me of reading the BoM with my daughter and we were reading about seers and translating records (I believe Mosiah) and I thought it would be a good way to casually bring up how Joseph Smith translated with a seer stone in a hat. Apparently my orthodox husband was not as open to sharing that story, as he thought it was anti-mormon.
I love Ulrich’s and Bushman’s approaches to the need for change in our approach . . . but if I struggle in my own small family finding a good balance for everyone; can you imagine all of the committees and bureaucracies in SLC trying to figure this stuff out . . . and most likely ending up with the least offensive version of progress (ie, a few months shy of 15….). Is it bad that the more I think about it the less hope of real progress I have?
Mary Ann, thanks for sharing that experience. Sounds like you agree with Ulrich rather than Flake, that we need the whole story.
“What shocked me was that many of the older members fought the idea tooth and nail – it didn’t matter to them whether the stories were factually correct. What mattered was that they were part of our heritage as common descendants, and the stories were inspiring us to live up to a faithful ideal.”
That such an interesting observation. I wonder if that’s a generational thing perhaps. A different way of viewing the world certainly. I would have difficulty understanding how a story that was not factually correct ought to be seen as being part of a common heritage. I wonder if growing up with wartime propaganda, and seeing stories as a tool for propaganda influences that. I recall some children’s story books when I was young having a very obvious message about how good children behaved.
“it was those types of stories that made me feel like I could laugh and hang out with my Mormon ancestors. They were the ones that convinced me these were real people. Stubborn and opinionated? Yep, definitely my relatives. :)”
With you on that one (well except, my parents aside, my ancestors weren’t Mormon).
Kristine, thanks for sharing that experience too. I know in my own extended family there’s probably be a wide range of views as well.
“Is it bad that the more I think about it the less hope of real progress I have?”
I certainly feel like that sometimes. But I think there is progress of a sort with the new youth curriculum, though heavily dependent on the position of the person teaching, so perhaps more progress in areas where folks like Ray (http://thingsofmysoul.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Sunday%20School) are teaching the youth, less in other places.
CES stuff has me stressing sometimes. The other week, the online seminary devotional was an excerpt from a conference talk about the servants who’d been asked to build a watch-tower and didn’t. The excerpt stated that the first thing the servants did wrong was to begin to question. My daughter was outraged. Me too.
Thanks for this interesting post, Hedgehog. I would say that I am also in agreement with Ulrich as well.
I have always felt that the stories we have should be the truth and that’s it! Most of us can glean inspiration from them more when we know that they are factual and real. When I find that a story is altered from the true, actual facts, it looses it’s inspiration for me.
What inspires me are true stories and examples of our people’s humanity, not manufactured spirituality.
The stories about Joseph Smith that show his real, human side are often the ones that inspire me the most, because it reminds me that he was as human as we all are, and not an almost other worldly figure that we do sometimes get in whitewashed tellings in our ward classes.
What of the stories we have of Jesus? Yes, we have stories that show anger, but many would argue that we only have “perfect” stories of Him, as well.
Right; that’s because he is God.
Great post Hedgehog. Thomas B. Marsh’s milk strippings story is probably a good illustration of your point. In the historical record, Thomas B. Marsh left the church because he rebelled against growing LDS militancy in Missouri. But that story wouldn’t resonate with church culture today. But leaving the church because of milk strippings is the perfect Sunday School morality tale.
Consider just how different the church would be if they told the other story: Growing LDS militancy in Missouri was an ill-fated approach that drove away cherished and strong members. So today, we shouldn’t be overly militaristic in the advocacy of our values either, either politically, or physically. If the real story had been told in General Conference, and presented as a cautionary tale to the church in general to avoid militancy, Proposition 8 may never have happened.
Frank, you have a valid point, but with an individual who didn’t sin, I’m not sure you’d have much dirty laundry. I think a better comparison would be to how scriptures portray human church leaders. Peter is definitely shown capable of error and contrition, qualities that contrast with his later faithfulness and strength. OT and BofM prophets didn’t seem to have qualms portraying themselves as sometimes not up to the level they wished they could be.
What is interesting about the scriptural accounts, though, is how later people seem to idealize their forefathers. Nephi in the book of Helaman laments that people were so much more righteous in the the time of Nephi, son of Lehi (Helaman 7:7), yet our reading of 1 Nephi wouldn’t seem to agree. Mormon falls all over himself praising Captain Moroni in the book of Alma to the point of caricature. Even on the flip side, unrighteous people like Laman, Lemuel, priests of King Noah, and Jews of NT period seem to view themselves as acting like their righteous ancestors, yet they are reminded that their ancestors, in fact, were not always righteous and were quite often in trouble with God. They were indeed acting like their ancestors, just those who stoned the prophets.
Hedgehog, I also wonder if it’s a generational thing. I see it often in county histories from the 19th century, biographies of founding fathers gushing with praise and pointing out illustrious lineage. It’s like the obituary effect. Even if a kid is a hellion, the minute they die they are suddenly described as the sweetest angel on earth. You rarely see an obituary being critical of the deceased (unless the deceased person writes the obituary ahead of time).
Nate, I just sat through a Sacrament Meeting on Thomas Marsh. I am so tired of the trope for lots of reasons, one my top concerns is, we don’t even explain that Brother Marsh came back to the church. We don’t even give him credit for that, let alone the actual military connection.
Its not just a story, its gossip, slander, fault finding and judgement. We are thrilled to break it out.
I am still enraged as you can tell. Not jumping on you at all, jumping on the horror that our stories are so slanted they cause us to sin and find power in it.
I hear you on the time thing. But I get that from external life as well as in the church: hurry, hurry, you have to get to the next promotion, get married, whatever the ‘next’ thing is. I’ve just started reading the doctrine and covenants again, and have been suddenly finding all these times when the instruction from on High was to wait, and that the time wasn’t right. It’s strengthened my faith in Ecclesiastes: times and seasons, people, times and seasons. I’m now telling myself a story that it’s okay to dilly dally and go at my own pace.
Thanks for the further comments folks.
Doug. “I have always felt that the stories we have should be the truth and that’s it! Most of us can glean inspiration from them more when we know that they are factual and real.”
Yes, certainly when we’re talking about real events and real people. I do think we can learn things from fiction too (this weeks Sunday School lesson is the parables), but I do like to know when I’m dealing with fiction, and when with fact.
Frank, there have certainly been a lot of filters, so perhaps we need to ask what is the writer trying to tell us. That doesn’t seem to be something we ask about more recent events presented as fact, but maybe we’d all be better off if we asked that question about everything we read.
Nate. Yes, poor old Thomas B Marsh has been misrepresented for a long time. Thank you for bringing that up.
Cat, agreed. It’s a sad thing.
Mary Ann, that’s a great comment about how scriptural characters are described later. I’ve always had the impression that Mormon really idealised Captain Moroni, he certainly sings his praises at one point in his abridgement, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence he names his son Moroni. That’s understandable I guess, given Mormon’s position as a young military leader.
On the generational thing, I believe history has come to be seen differently to the way it was viewed in the past. It used to be much more propaganda, and telling the best story of any particular nation, a lot less impartial.
Eva, true. We seem to live in a world of lists to be checked. Sometimes we can forget to enjoy the moment. Yes, sometimes waiting is important. I guess humanity has often had an impatient tendency.