“I’m afraid this isn’t your religion anymore”

It’s so hard to track Seth R down, since he never posts on his own blog but seems to wander the rest of the bloggernacle (or, more often, outer blogness) to rebuke (sternly) elsewhere.

By chance, I saw a post by Daniel at Good Reason responding to Michael R. Ash‘s recent set of columns for Mormon Times. I didn’t really want to get too far into it. Apologetics…eh…not my cup of tea.

But who did I find there as the first commenter? Good ole Seth! And he had, I believe, some poignant food for thought.

You know – there’s a phenomenon with any small town where you have the young people moving out to other places. They always write in to the town newspaper to complain whenever the town wants to put up a new stoplight, or tear down a dilapidated playground, or renovate the school, or whatever else.

Whenever the town wants to do anything to improve the community, the always get a bunch of complaints from “the exiles” about how they have fond memories of that playground – how it occupies a special place in their hearts – and how it has always embodied what is at the heart of the community they knew and loved.

Well, that’s nice and all.

But some people still have to live in that town. And they don’t need any pointers from people who no longer have to live there.

So, thanks for the pointers, but…

I’m afraid this isn’t your religion anymore.

It’s my religion. And I still have to live here. And I don’t need suggestions from you on how to conduct my own beliefs and view of the Book of Mormon.

We’re getting the new stop light. And if you don’t like it, that’s just too damn bad.

I liked this sentiment, but I’ve been chewing it over for a while.

What’s interesting here is how Seth relates this analogy to the church. The ex-mormons are the small town young people who leave the city. New Mormon interpretations or beliefs (such as those espoused by apologists and which Daniel tries to criticize) represent the improvements to the small town — the new stoplight, the renovated school, etc., And when these improvements are suggested and approved, the young people — who have left the town already — cry out that the town they remember and have special memories of must be preserved. It has “always embodied what is at the heart of the community they knew and loved.”

Seth uses this back drop to give his Stern Rebuke (TM) to the ex-Mormons. People who have to live in the town can (and should) do better than to be bogged down from progress by people who don’t have to live in the town. In other words, dear ex-Mos, kindly shut the heck up.

This was a curious analogy, and its conclusion seems reasonable. I thought Daniel’s response was just…sooooo badddd….(no offense Daniel!)

But when I think about it, I think I have a response too. I think Seth’s characterization of the various parties is opportunistic to help his case, but unrealistic of how things actually feel. I will now engage in my own opportunistic framing of things.

For example, consider why the young people are writing back in complaint. They complain that suggested changes and improvements cut at the “heart of what they knew and loved.”

Do you see the problem?

While changes to common LDS interpretations, doctrines, theologies, etc., shift the goalposts of what members (and ex-members) know about Mormonism, it doesn’t necessarily threaten what people loved. It’s tough to imagine someone complaining against reinterpretations for why certain controversial doctrines existed in such a way: “Don’t try to reinterpret polygamy/priesthood ban/BoM geography/whatever the issue is. We just loved those old interpretations so much!”

Another curiosity is how Seth frames the two groups with respect to the town. The young people “no longer have to live there,” while some people, like Seth, still have to live there.

What is this about? This have to live stuff?

There are a few ways I’d go with this.

The plight of many ex/post/former/New Order/Middle way Mormons is of “having” to live in the town, but disliking this fact. Their family (for several generations) has lived in this town, and beside, the town is secluded from any big cities, and there’s limited transportation out. Even when they manage to leave the town (through getting a rare scholarship to an outside school, or an internship outside the town for work), they are never fully out, because they still have the small town mannerisms in the big city. Additionally, their friends and family members still are all staunchly settled in the town. The town’s business reaches out to them even if they do not currently live in the town. So, it’s not the case that one group “doesn’t have to live there” anymore and one still does. The group of expatriates or “exiles”, so to speak, are not completely divorced.

The second issue is…this makes it sound like members are resigned to Mormonism. Is it true that Seth feels like he “has” to live in the Mormon town? And ex-Mormons, on the other hand, do not “have” to live there? What a curious thing to say!

Seth frames new interpretations, reclassifications (that’s not official; that’s folk doctrine) as being improvements. They are “the new stoplight.” If you oppose them, you oppose the progress of the town (which is an attack on the people who “have” to live there.)

But I do not think this is what the town’s expatriates are thinking. Really, I’m thinking they feel that the townspeople are supporting a controversial, and possibly detrimental improvement. They aren’t opposing the renovation of the school because the “old school just meant so much and was lovable,” but rather because the firm hired to do renovations has a terrible track record and these expats perceive that the renovation will actually make the school less safe than it was, less functional than it was, etc.,