D. Michael Quinn
Yale-trained Mormon historian and formed Brigham Young University religion professor
***
Interview D. Michael Quinn
· HIGHLIGHTS
D. Michael Quinn is a historian of Mormonism and former Brigham
Young University professor who was excommunicated from the LDS Church in 1993,
after publishing research into controversial subjects in church history. In
this interview, Quinn describes his excommunication and the difficulties faced
by gay Mormons. He also explains how his personal experiences of revelation
have preserved his belief in Mormon doctrine, despite his conflicts with the
church. This is the edited transcript of an interview conducted on Jan. 6,
2006.
How did the church move into the
20th century and become a success story?
After the surrender of polygamy in the 1890s, the LDS Church
began a rigorous process of conforming to the expectations of American society.
There are some tremendous reversals in that, where individuals came back into
power in a way that changed the directions of the LDS Church.
One of them was Lorenzo Snow. He had been imprisoned as a
polygamist in the 1880s. He became president of the LDS Church in 1898 and
immediately began to emphasize a tithing, requiring 10 percent of one's income
to the LDS Church. ...
Diplomats began coming through Salt Lake because it was a hub
for the railroad, and he began this process of diplomatic outreach, not only to
people from other countries, but also within the United States. By the tithing
emphasis that he made, he brought the LDS Church out of its near-destruction
financially by encouraging this sacrifice on the part of LDS Church membership.
As an individual he inspired a kind of confidence, because he was such a kindly
looking, old patriarch-looking Abraham kind of figure. It brought a greater
kind of confidence on the part of the leadership of the secular world.
Another reversal occurred with Reed Smoot. Reed Smoot had come
close to being ejected from the Senate in this process of investigating him
from 1903 to 1907. He survived that, but just didn't merely survive. He was an
astute businessman. He was a very, very clever politician, and over a period of
time in the Senate he became the most influential member of the U.S. Senate. He
became the kingmaker for the U.S. presidency in a sense, because he was the one
who decided at the Republican National Convention who was going to be the
candidate, and during this time of Republican supremacy in the 1920s, the
candidate was the president.
When the men were elected whom Smoot had helped choose, they
offered him a position in the Cabinet. He would say, "No, I'm more
powerful and needed in the Senate, but here are some men I recommend for the
Cabinet." So he became kingmaker for the presidency [and] he became
kingmaker for the Cabinet under three different presidents of the United States
in the 1920s. ...
“I was fulfilling my mission as I felt that God had led me to,
and yet it had put me on a collision course with the leadership of the church I
regarded as his prophets.”
Then, joined with Reed Smoot was another reversal story, and that
is Heber J. Grant. Heber J. Grant had been a young polygamist who had been
hiding from arrest during most of his early years as an apostle, but he was an
astute businessman and ... was able to bring about, through his connections
with non-Mormon businessmen in New York City, Boston and Chicago, a connection
so powerful -- and it was primarily a personal interaction with them, a
building of trust, handshakes that made deals. When the depression of 1893 hit
the nation, he, through these contacts, saved the LDS Church from financial
ruin.
Then in the 1920s, ... Reed Smoot is joined in the business
activities with Heber J. Grant, who has maintained these business contacts, has
built them, and to the degree that he has the United States seeing the Mormon
Church and its business power as a good thing, no longer as a bad thing, and he
helps to move the LDS Church into sugar industry, into communications, into
hotels, into insurance, into this diversified sector of influence, first
regionally and then nationally, so that it not only has built up friends in the
financial centers of the United States; it has built up actual influence, so
that the LDS Church becomes perceived as American. As American as all the
big-business emphasis of the 1920s perceived the community of businessmen, the
LDS Church was very much a part of that, and Heber J. Grant is central to that.
He does financially and in the business realm what Reed Smoot does in the
political realm in making Americans see the Mormons as not only American, but as
influential and as people we want as friends. ...
How did
the church grow so fast and what kind of pressure came along with that?
Well, this was a terrible thing. I was a missionary, and my
experience is true of all LDS missionaries. You're separated from your family,
very often for the first time in your life. You're in an unusual environment.
... And then to be put under the situation that if you're really going to
please your mission president, who's your kind of substitute father, you've got
to come up with high numbers of baptisms. ... Missionaries just threw ethics to
the wind, and they did whatever was necessary to do to please their mission
presidents. ...
When was
this and what was the scope of the problem?
This period of tremendous growth,
coupled with missionary abuses because of the pressures put on them, was
happening during the period basically from about 1953 to 1960, and it was
happening throughout the world. ...
One of my missionary friends in England came to me one time when
I was talking negatively about baseball baptisms, and he said, "Well, you
know, I'm a baseball baptism. But," he said, "in Louisiana we called
it beach baptisms." ...
The missionaries would come to them in these backcountry areas
and say: "We'll take you to the ocean. You've never seen the ocean before.
The LDS Church will pay for us to take you to the ocean so you can have a beach
trip. Tell all your friends above the age of 8 to come on this trip."
They'd hire these buses, and they would drive the hours necessary to get from
the hills of Mississippi or Alabama or Louisiana down to the beaches. Then when
they were down into the beaches, these missionaries would dunk these kids into
the surf, and the kids thought they were just playing. Then the missionaries
would be writing down names and keeping records, and as the kids were going
back during the several-hour trip, then the missionaries were talking about
religion, and they found out that they were members of the church. ...
The mission presidents were in competition with each mission to
get the highest numbers of mission baptisms. Then every missionary within a
mission was put under this kind of pressure, and it resulted in these worldwide
abuses. ...
You were
asked to excommunicate youngsters who had been brought into the church.
Describe that process and its ultimate effect on you.
... The president of the church, David O. McKay, sent over
someone who was known as a troubleshooter in the LDS Church, an apostle named
Mark E. Peterson, and he was given a responsibility over all of the missionary
work in the British Isles, as well as the western part of France, Belgium and
the Netherlands. He began to investigate what had happened. ...
As a missionary I went around and had lists of nonparticipating
members given to me by the branch presidents or the bishops. We would go out
and knock on doors and contact these people. I found kids who in some cases had
joined just because they liked the missionaries, and they knew they were
joining a church, but they weren't that interested in the church. ... I found
others of these teenage boys, some of them only 12 and 13 years of age, who had
been baptized five years or more before, and they didn't even know that they
were members of a church. They thought they'd been initiated into a baseball
club.
I found some of them who, I asked them what their ages were, and
they had been baptized when they were 6 or 7 years of age, which is illegal
under Mormon regulations of baptism. It has to be the age of 8. The
missionaries had forged their birthdates. ... It was a very depressing kind of
experience. ...
The second stage of this process was to excommunicate or to
fellowship, to bring into activity those who were interested in doing so, and
for those who were not, for them to be excommunicated.
It turned out that I was assigned to be a branch president. ...
I was 20 years old, and I was a branch president ... over a branch that had
collapsed. There were 125 members of the branch; there were three or four
active members of the LDS Church. I was facing the prospect of excommunicating
more than 100 people from the LDS Church, and I'd only baptized four.
I got through enough courts to excommunicate about 14 people,
which was three or four times the number I'd baptized, and this demoralized me.
I ended up in a spiritual crisis. ... I lost my faith. ...
I was in a situation that was impossible for me, because I had
been this ardent believer ever since childhood, had had many metaphysical
experiences, healing experiences. I still remembered them, but they didn't
matter to me, because I had this abject doubt. I just didn't believe in
anything at that point, and I knew that I could not stay as a missionary. I did
not confide in anybody, because I was afraid to. But after my mission companion
went to sleep at night, I would go off into a room or a hallway or a bathroom
where I could be alone, and I would pray out loud: "Oh, God, if there is a
God, help me to know it again." ...
I gave myself a few weeks, and that if I didn't resolve it and
regain my testimony in a few weeks, then I was going to tell the mission
president I had to go home, which in Mormon culture is a huge humiliation, to
leave your mission early. And what could I say to people? ...
Well, in the process of about a month period, I finally regained
those spiritual feelings, that burning within that [St.] Bernard [of]
Clairvaux, as a medieval mystic, had described, and faith returned. I no longer
had to pray, "Oh, God, if there is a God." I knew again, within the
center of my being, that God lived. ...
What was
the pressure on the Mormons in the mission who didn't have that certainty? How
did you counsel them until you had your own crisis of faith?
Part of the instruction that Mormons get from an early age is to
be able to say, "I know the church is true, I know that God lives, I know
that Jesus is the Christ." ... It's perceived as a lack of faith if you
use the words "I believe," if you don't say the words "I
know." ...
I was a baptizing missionary and spoke well, and eventually I
was advanced to leadership positions in the mission. Missionaries would come to
me for counsel about various things, about teaching and whatever. But these
were like a confessional, because missionaries would come to me, and many of
them, with tears in their eyes, and these young men in their 20s -- 19 to 20,
21 years of age -- tears streaming down their faces, saying, "I don't have
a testimony, and I don't know what's wrong." They would say: "Tell me,
how do you know? How can you say that you know?" It wasn't a challenge; it
was begging to know what they could do to gain the kind of testimony that I
had. And they would say to me [that] they had prayed and they had fasted, and
some of them were fasting two and three times a week, two or three days without
any food or water, trying to gain this inward testimony. ... They were just
brokenhearted, because they had done everything that they had been taught to
do, and they did not have faith, and it was just killing them. ...
Because of my own crisis of faith, I knew what it was like to
pray and to feel like there was nothing there. I would just say to them:
"I don't know the answer for you. All I can tell you is that I think faith
is a gift, and I've had it most of my life, although I've had a period of
doubt. But my testimony is that God is real, and that he loves you, and I hope
that you will learn that. It breaks my heart that you've made this effort and
you don't feel that confidence." So I wasn't able to help them, except not
to condemn them. ...
For Mormons who don't have that faith, it's very difficult for
them to admit that they don't, because the initial answer that they're going to
get is: "Well, you're not trying hard enough. You're not praying hard
enough. You're not reading the Scriptures. You must be having evil thoughts.
What are you doing in your life that doesn't allow the spirit to enter your
heart?" It's a huge guilt trip for somebody who has difficulty or
impossibility of being able to say, with honesty, "I know." ...
Psychologically
[the mission seems to be] a searing rite of passage. Why?
... When you become an LDS missionary, you have a companion who
is assigned to you 24 hours a day. You never leave the sight of that companion
except to go to the bathroom. You are with that person 24 hours a day, and you
are told to tell that missionary companion that you love him, or if you're a
female companion with a lady missionary that you love her. Missionary life is
even described as being like a marriage. I was told as a missionary, "You
will never be as close with your wife as you will be your missionary
companion," which was irony, because I was a gay male. But all
missionaries are told this, because they said very frankly, the missionary
leaders would say, you will never be with your wife 24 hours a day. If you're a
woman, you will never be with your husband 24 hours a day, day in, day out, for
two years of your life, but you are with these missionary companions.
Then you not only have this bonding experience that is so
intense; your life is utterly controlled by the missionary experience. You
don't do anything unless it is approved for you as a missionary. If it isn't
approved to listen to radio, you do not listen to radio. If it isn't approved to
watch television, you do not watch television. If it isn't approved to read a
newspaper, you will not read a newspaper. You follow the rules for this
two-year period. There is nothing in the contemporary experience of
20-year-olds in America and Canada to compare with this. The only thing that
would be close to it would be going into a seminary, a young man who takes the
position of having a calling to become a priest. That's the only thing that
would be similar to it.
Yet in the Mormon experience, it's this two-year, temporary
experience. After two years it's over, and these young men and women are
expected to go back to a normal life, and it's difficult because they have
experienced something utterly alien to the contemporary civilian life that they
go back to. ... You feel, this isn't real. What's real was the missionary
experience. It isn't real for me to be in college again; it isn't real for me
to be working; it isn't real for me to be trying to date. What's real is
serving God 24 hours a day, sharing the message of the Gospel. And it is this
searing, overwhelming experience that usually lasts for two years that every
missionary will look back on and very often say, "There were a lot of hard
times as a missionary, but this was the best two years of my life." ...
What were
some moments where you experienced God and how did that become a foundation of
your faith?
Well, from childhood, whenever I
would think about God or pray, I would feel this burning feeling and sensation
within me. No one had told me about it; it was just something I felt and I
experienced. I remember my shock when I was a teenager and read a description
of this in Mormon Scripture, and I was stunned that other people were
experiencing it. ... But for me, I can't point to an earliest point in my life
where I knew God. I have always known him as a friend, as a companion. In my
prayers I talked with him as if he were my father.
But I can remember one incident, when I was 9; it was one of my
more metaphysical experiences. I was with my family taking a tour of
subterranean caves, and they at one point had a demonstration of what blackness
was like. So they turned out the klieg lights that they had illuminating this
subterranean cave.
Well, I had gotten behind the group, because I was curious and
looking at stalactites, and that all was very interesting to me. ... So I could
hear the voice of the tour guide droning on about what this meant, in pitch
black and all of that. So I was walking toward the voice, the direction of this
droning voice of the tour guide.
All of a sudden I heard another voice that said,
"Stop." I hesitated for a moment, and then I started taking another
step. And this voice came to me so powerfully and said, "Stop, my
son." And I felt, this is the voice of God, but I don't know why. So I stopped
and I waited, and that was it. There was another couple of minutes where the
voice of the tour guide was droning on, and then he said, "Now turn on the
lights." The lights went back on, and I was at the edge of a precipice. I
had thought I'd been walking toward the voice of the tour guide, and because of
the echoing I had been walking at an angle, some angle, and another step and I
would have gone right off this precipice. ... I was just inches from the edge.
And I firmly believe, my testimony is that was the voice of God,
to me. ... I've had many healing experiences which people could say, "Oh,
well, you recovered, or you were preserved from death, but it was just the
circumstances." I acknowledge that that's a legitimate way of perceiving
it, even though I see it as God's intervention in healing me or in preserving
me from dying in various accidents that I was in. But this experience in the
caves was for me a pivotal one, because at the time, I testified as a
9-year-old boy in my board testimony meeting [that] I heard the voice of God,
and I still feel that.
You were
excommunicated. What happened, why did it happen, and how did you feel?
For a believing Mormon, one who
sees Mormonism as the true church and believes in the priesthood and the
revelations that have been published, Mormonism is their whole life. All their
hope, all of their anticipation is connected with that. Now, to be deprived of
membership in the LDS Church is to lose all of that. And for a Mormon who is an
ardent believer, that is a kind of death. ... When I began facing that
potential, I was on the faculty of Brigham Young University, and what threw me
into the jeopardy of losing my membership in the church were my publications on
LDS history.
I was fulfilling what I believed was God's mission for me: to
understand the leadership of the church and the history of the church as well
as I could, and to present it as honestly I could with the perspective that my
training gave me so that members of the church wouldn't be disturbed when they learned
about these problem areas, because anti-Mormons were using history as a club to
beat the faith out of people. I felt this wouldn't be possible if they already
knew about these problems. ...
I felt earnestly that this was what God had prepared me to do,
to present these problem areas in a context that allowed for faith and still
acknowledged what the anti-Mormons or the critics would bring up, but to say:
"Yeah? So what? These are human beings." God works with fallible
human beings, whether they're your parents or your prophets. This is a way of
understanding it and maintaining faith.
Well, the problem was that -- well, actually, it was a double
problem. I was getting reports back from people who had read and heard the
things that I'd say that that, in fact, was how they were understanding it.
They were saying: "Oh, thank you. This makes it understandable for
me." ...
On the other hand, I was hearing officially from apostles, whom
I regarded as God's chosen prophets and apostles on earth, that this kind of
approach to history was not faith-promoting; that it was contrary to what God
wanted. ...
What
specifically were you writing about that was particularly problematic?
The things that I was learning that were not pleasing to the
leaders of the church that I had been publishing about were policy changes in
the LDS Church; the existence of certain councils, such as a theocratic Council
of Fifty that I published about that the LDS Church leaders didn't know about
themselves, and if they did know about, they didn't want rank and file to know
that there was a theocracy that was a part of Mormonism; polygamy, and the
practice of polygamy after the Manifesto, that had been secretly practiced or
practiced by Joseph Smith before it was publicly announced in 1852 as a
doctrine of the LDS Church.
These kinds of things, policy changes and doctrinal changes,
were things that I had written about and had tried to put into a context of seeing
this as a process of change and a process of revelation, but nonetheless to
acknowledge that there were these problem areas, but they didn't need to be
problem areas. They could be understood as a part of the human experience or as
a part of God's changing patterns of dealing with the LDS Church, or as a part
of the LDS Church responding to differing circumstances. But it became clear
that criticisms from apostles of the LDS Church -- Mark E. Peterson, Boyd K.
Packer, [Ezra Taft] Benson -- were being directed directly at the kinds of
things I was publishing, and in some cases, by title, at some of these
publications of mine.
It became clear to me, when I published a long article, almost
100 pages, about plural marriage after the Manifesto, that this was coming to a
breaking point between me and the church, because my local LDS Church
president, the stake president, was visited by a General Authority and told
that I was to be called in and punished, and that at a minimum I was to lose my
temple recommend, which was the basis for church employment, and I was a
professor at BYU.
Then the leader of this meeting said, "And if this doesn't
keep him from doing this kind of thing, you should take further action as
appropriate." And he started to get up and walk out. He thought that was
the end of it. And the stake president said, "Now, wait a minute." He
said: "Michael Quinn gave me a copy of this article on plural marriage
after the Manifesto. I and my counselors have read it, and we don't find anything
in it that is contrary to faith. It talks about some difficult experiences the
church went through, but we don't see this as a reason to punish him. ... And
he hasn't done this secretly, and we don't see -- we've read it." And they
asked, "Have you read it?" And he said, "No, I wouldn't read
anti-Mormon trash." And they said, "Well, how can you judge that what
he's written is destructive of the faith if you haven't read it?" And it
went around and around, and finally after two and a half hours, the stake
president said, "Well, I'll call Michael Quinn in, and I will explain to
him what you have said to us, and then we'll go from there."
And this representative said: "Oh, no. You can't tell him
that I told you what I've told you. You can't tell him that this came from church
headquarters. This has to be your objection that he is to be informed of, that
you have objected to, and that you're going to punish him for." And the
stake president said: "I'm not going to lie to him, so you decide: Am I
going to tell him the truth and call him in, or am I not going to say anything
to him? Because I am not going to lie to him." This stunned this General
Authority who had been sent from church headquarters, and he said, "Well,
then you do [what] you feel you need to do."
So the stake president called me in and explained this whole
process, including the fact that he had been told to lie to me and to say that
this was his personal objection to what I'd published. The stake president
said: "I feel obligated to do something. I have to do something." And
he said: "I'm taking your temple recommend. You will not be able to go
back to the temple without it. But," he said, "I'm afraid that
they're going to use this as a grounds for firing you from BYU if you do not
have temple recommend. So," he says, "if anyone at BYU asks if you
have a valid temple recommend, you tell them yes, and don't volunteer that it's
in my desk drawer. And when it expires, I'll renew it, but I'll keep it in my
desk drawer."
And I knew at that moment that I was dead meat, that as long as
that stake president was there to protect me I would be protected, but as soon
as he was relieved of his position -- and these are temporary positions; it's a
lay ministry -- and another stake president who was more compliant was in the
position, or if I happened to move ... out of his stake, then I was dead meat.
...
I was fulfilling my mission as I felt that God had led me to,
and yet it had put me on a collision course with the leadership of the church I
regarded as his prophets. ... So I prayed a lot to God: "Help me to know.
If I'm wrong, I'll confess that I'm wrong. If you want me to stop my research
as a Mormon historian, I will." ...
And I received the confirmation that I had received since
childhood of God's presence, of this burning within, of this sense of peace
which, as Jesus says, passes all understanding. I felt that I was doing nothing
wrong in what I published and that they were wrong in condemning me for it. I
couldn't sort this out. It didn't make any sense to me, but I felt there was no
way I was going to retreat, no matter what it required, and eventually it ended
up in my excommunication.
Do you
remember the day you got the letter?
Well, it was a long process. ... I do remember. It was in
February. I was deadly ill with a flu, and I was a week away from going to
California for a fellowship at the Huntington Library that would last for
several months. On this Sunday morning, there was a knock at my door, and I had
a fever of about 102. I dragged myself up, went to the door, and there was the
stake president. I had never seen him before. ... I had been trying to stay
under the radar, because I knew that they were after me, and I did not want to
deal with that confrontation.
But he said, "We have reports that you have published and
spoken in ways of an apostate, and we need to talk with you." He started
to walk in the door, and I closed the door, and I just said: "I am sick as
a dog. I cannot let you in. You cannot come in. And I'm leaving for California
in just a few days. As soon as I get well enough to drive, I'm going down. I
won't be back for months." So I said, "We're going to have to have
this conversation some other time." I said goodbye, and I went back to
bed, fell asleep.
Barely into REM sleep, and there was another knock at the door,
and then the doorbell began ringing. It woke me up, and I walked to the door
again, and there was the stake president. ... He said, "Can I come
in?" He started walking in, like missionaries do, you know, best foot
forward. And I said: "No, I'm still sick as a dog. It's only been an hour,
and you cannot come in." And he said: "Well, I have a letter for you.
You must read this letter, and I want you to respond to this letter."
So I said, "Fine, I'll read it when I feel well
enough." I closed the door, and I put the letter down, and a few hours
later, when I woke up from my feverish state and was well enough to read the
letter, I read it. It said that I had been guilty of apostasy, and it outlined
three evidences of my apostasy, and two of them were publications that I had
written, and one of them was my statement to The
New York Times that compared
the 20th-century leadership to the 19th-century leadership, and I said in the
19th-century leadership that the LDS leaders acknowledged the existence of a
loyal opposition. They didn't like to have dissenters, but they acknowledged
that one could be loyal and also disagree with the leadership. But, I said, in
the 20th century, they don't acknowledge the existence of a loyal opposition,
and they often take church measures against them. That was the third example of
my apostasy, which shows that the leadership today has no sense of irony. But
that was the time when I saw it in black and white, where I was accused of
apostasy.
How did
you respond when you read the letter? Had you been expecting it, or were you
still incredulous?
No, I was expecting it, and I was mad as hell. ... It was like
the old line from the movie [Network]: I'm mad as hell, and I'm not
going to take this anymore!" I had never, prior to that, gone to the
media. I had been quoted a lot, including [in] Newsweek and Time magazine, The New York Times, but it was always when the media came
to me. ...
Well, this time I went to the media, and I produced for the
local newspaper, The Salt Lake
Tribune, a photocopy of this
letter from the stake president so that they would see, and they ran articles:
"Mormon historian being pursued." And this ended up as an AP
[Associated Press] story. It was published in the Los Angeles Times before I got down to Los Angeles for
this fellowship that I had at the Huntington Library. ...
I had hoped that the prospect of this being a black eye in
public relations would make them back off, and they would tell the stake
president, who I was sure was under orders because of my previous experience,
that they would say, "Oh, well, on second thought, leave him alone; let
him do his thing." But that's not what happened, and eventually I was
excommunicated.
[How did
you feel?]
I was angry when I got the letter, but it's like family. You get
angry at families, but you don't abandon the family, and you don't want the
family to abandon you. And so the fact that I felt anger didn't affect my sense
that this is a true church. ...
And I'm angry at what they're doing. These are prophets, seers
and revelators, but I believe they're wrong. And I believe it's my right as a
believing Latter-day Saint to say they're wrong, but also to say: "I
acknowledge that they're God's prophets, seers and revelators. I just think
you've made a mistake." So that's how I approached it, and when push came
to shove and shove came to being excommunicated, it was like death; it really
was. ...
[Would you
like to be invited back into the church?]
I would have to say with a big if, and that is, if you stop
using political power as a club against gays and lesbians. I cannot be silent about
policies that I disagree with. That is the one great freedom that my
excommunication has given me, because even though people thought I spoke up any
time I chose, I really remained silent about deep disagreements with church
policies during the ERA [Equal Rights Amendment] campaign of the LDS Church. I
was on the faculty at BYU. I never spoke against it; I never wrote against it,
even though I felt utterly that it was wrong.
I'm not going to go back into that closet of being a silent
dissenter. So no, I could not accept an invitation to join the LDS Church
again, because so many of its current policies are contrary to what I believe
is the will of God.
As a gay
man, what are the special difficulties that you see for gays in the Mormon
Church?
... In a society that doesn't
accept homosexuality, ... everyone feels like they're alone and lonely, and
they have to hide. But in Mormon culture it's worse because of the theology of
the family. ... You have the opportunity of being together as a family forever if
you are righteous enough, so Mormons live this frenetic life of doing and
behaving in any way that the Scriptures or the leaders of the church tell them
to, because they want this family unit to continue forever.
Well, when you're gay you realize you don't fit that picture.
And when you come out to your parents as gay, their fear is indescribable,
because it's not just that they've lost their image of you in terms of this
heterosexual perception they have of you. Their fear is beyond the fear of
other parents, because their fear is that they have the opportunity of having
you with them for eternity, and now they've lost it because you are a
disgusting homosexual, and nothing disgusting can be in the presence of God.
You think
there's a special pain in Mormon families as they confront this.
... I'll have to say that I'm an exception to this in some ways,
because the intensity of my relationship with God since childhood never caused
me to doubt the eternal life with him.
Even though I knew that my family found "fairies"
disgusting, as they told me, and friends would say that, and I heard this over
the pulpit, I never doubted my relationship with God. I knew that God accepted
me as queer. I just knew that. I knew that he loved me. I never feared his rejection.
But the thing I couldn't live with was the rejection of family and friends here
on earth. ...
Do you see
an irony here in that the jewel in the crown of Mormonism is the family, yet on
the issue of homosexuality, they break up families?
... LDS families are in this double bind, because they're told
when they have gay children, follow that which is true. Avoid even the
appearance of evil, and homosexuality is evil. So there has been almost a kind
of expectation that if your child will not conform, then you should abandon
them. ... And yet many families find this extremely difficult to do -- not only
the physical abandonment, but to give up the faith that this child, this
homosexual child, and maybe his partner or her partner for life, may want to be
with that family eternally. It creates this huge faith disjunction. ...
You have to develop a private faith, which I have, that God
accepts all loving relationships. But this separates you from the orthodoxy of
the Mormon Church, and many gays and lesbians cannot make that step. They
accept themselves as inferior eternally, because they've never been taught
otherwise, and they don't have the individual testimony that I do. Maybe I'm
wrong, but this is my faith. So for the mass of Mormon families this is an
unresolvable tragedy.
What were
your confrontations with Boyd Packer about your different views on history and
faith-producing history?
When I was admitted to the faculty of Brigham Young University,
I had the same kind of interview that all prospective faculty members have, and
that is that a General Authority of the LDS Church meets with the prospective
faculty member. ... The person who interviewed me was apostle Boyd K. Packer.
We were together about 45 minutes, and almost all of that was a lecture. He
began by asking me what position I was going to be hired in or was being
considered for, and I said it was as a professor in the history department. The
very next words out of his mouth were -- and I'm not exaggerating; these were
seared into my memory -- Elder Packer said, "I have a hard time with
historians, because historians idolize the truth." I almost sunk into my
chair. I mean, that statement just bowled me over.
Then he went on to say, quoting him as accurately as I can ...:
"The truth is not uplifting. The truth destroys. And historians should
tell only that part of the truth that is uplifting, and if it's religious
history, that's faith-promoting." And he said, "Historians don't like
doing that, and that's why I have a hard time with historians." And the
conversation just went from there. He occasionally would give me the
opportunity to respond to what he was saying, and I would talk about putting
things in context, and that one could deal with a controversy or a sensitive
area, or even a negative experience in the past, but put it into context. I
said that it's a question of do you talk about this in a sentence, a paragraph,
a page, or do you just have a footnote reference to it? And I said,
"That's a decision that each individual historian will make, but," I
said, "I cannot agree with the idea that I should conceal this
evidence." And he just shook his head, and he said, "You're
wrong," ... and he went back to what he had started with to begin with.
...
With due credit to Elder Packer, even though it was clear in
that interview that I had with him that we were at polar opposites on this
issue of dealing with uncomfortable evidence in the past, I got the job in the
department of history at Brigham Young University and I eventually was advanced
to full professor, even though there were criticisms from him, privately and
publicly, about the kind of history that I was doing. So you have to give him
that credit, that he did not intervene to prevent my being hired; he did not
intervene to prevent my being given tenure or being advanced to full professor.
What was
that famous quote of his about the three dangers of the church? What was the
importance of that statement?
At one point Boyd Packer, as one of the senior members of the
Quorum of the Twelve [Apostles] at that point, gave instruction, in 1993 I
believe, to a group of church leaders at the annual world conference of the LDS
Church, and he instructed them that there were three dangers that the church
faced. The three were the feminists, the gay and lesbians, and of course the
ever-present problem of intellectuals and scholars, and that's how he phrased
it. I lost on all three counts. ...
Is there a
tighter leash now?
... One of the downsides of the massive growth of the LDS Church
since the 1960s has been an inward concern about maintaining control, because
the massive growth has caused the leadership to worry that the growth will mean
a lessening of control, a lessening of what they see as the purity of the LDS
Church. They are concerned and worried that the LDS Church could be subject to
the same problems as early Christianity. ... The result of that has been on the
Correlation program, which took away all of the independence of the lesson
manuals, of the church magazines, so that everything has been controlled, dictated,
approved in advance by the committees at the headquarters of the church.
Another has been taking away all of the independence that
existed in missionary life. Although there was a certain kind of uniform
expectation of what missionaries would experience, this evaporated as mission
presidents were instructed that every mission should be operated under the same
rules, and every missionary was to have the same kind of experience, no matter
where they were throughout the world. ...
BYU had been, for students during my experience there, a very
freewheeling kind of experience. I had a great experience as an independent
student, as an undergraduate at BYU. But after my experience there in the
1970s, increasingly to the present, there has been an effort to control the
entire experience of students at BYU so that there is very little that a
student can go there for if they don't expect to fit a mold. ...
So conformity has become almost a watchword among the leaders as
well as the rank and file in a way that never was true of Mormon experience
prior to the 1960s. This has had an effect on independent thinking; it's had an
effect in independent expressions of academics. And it has resulted in a kind
of watchdog mentality, which even has a committee that is specifically assigned
to look for any evidences of departures from orthodoxy or criticism by members
of the church, especially if they're academics. This is a
strengthening-of-the-members committee, which keeps files on anyone who
publishes, writes letters to the editor in newspapers anywhere in the
English-speaking world in particular.
This kind of inward paranoia has led to the disciplining of
those who have been perceived as departing from the expectations of
headquarters, and I'm one of the examples of that, for publishing historical
issues that were regarded as contrary to what the leadership wanted the rank
and file to know.
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