The state of Colorado can be divided into three geographic regions of roughly equal area. The eastern third is mainly plains and looks like Kansas. The middle third is nothing but tall mountains and looks like Colorado. And the western third is full of high mountain desert plateaus and looks like Utah. Your friends from Colorado probably come from towns on the border of the central mountains and eastern fields, where civilization starts at the edge of the Rockies and spills down into the plains.
I, however, hail from a town in the other third—the Utah third. Grand Junction is culturally different from the rest of Colorado. Liberal potheads are a thing of legend there—after the 2000 election, my father looked up voting data for our precinct and found that there were exactly two votes for Al Gore. One was his. The other was my mother’s.
Colorado is known for skiing and pot. My hometown’s a bit different—it’s known for methamphetamine and Mormons. “Breaking Bad” and “Big Love” make me homesick.
But as the naïve goody-goody that I pretend I no longer am, I was significantly better acquainted with the Mormons than the meth.
Nearly all of my friends were LDS, and the only way to have sleepovers on Saturday was to accompany them to church on Sunday. The only way not to miss out on fun weeknight activities with the group was to go with them to Young Women. The only way not to be friendless for a lonely week during the summer was to go to Girl’s Camp, which is Mormon sleep-away camp up in the mountains. I’ve acted out scenes from the Book of Mormon between the Nephites and the Lamanites; I’ve sung “I know a Mormon boy; he is my pride and joy.” I know what it means to CTR (choose the right) and Return with Honor.
You know how some people say they’re cultural Jews—like you can be a Jewish atheist? Well I’m a cultural Mormon.
The religion is known for its regressive social views and general lack of tolerance, and in my opinion these are horrifyingly valid complaints. It’s also known for its doctrines erring on the side of ridiculous, and in my opinion that’s also true. But it is also known, strangely, for its kindness.
Since I have arrived at Duke and talked about my Mormon heritage with people, I often bond with others who have had experiences with Mormons. People will say: “They’re the best people.” “They’re so happy.” “They’re so nice.” And that was certainly my experience. I never knew people who would give so endlessly of themselves without expecting a thing in return. They worked hard but collaboratively, helping people at every turn, and they had loads of fun that lacked many of the life-destroying-capabilities of more indulgent entertainment.
I’ve always wanted to know what it was about them that made them so special. My mother, despite being well acquainted with the more negative aspects of the religion, was drawn to it. “By their fruits you shall know them,” she said. Was there something in their scripture that made them have such solid values? Was their happiness and kindness divinely ordained? I knew that thought to be ridiculous even as a child. I was confused.
I only found wisdom a few weeks ago while reading a study motivated by the common assertion that religious people are healthier. The study sought to test the claim’s validity (it’s at least slightly true) and then find the real source of the difference. Is praying cathartic? Is the Bible full of wisdom enough to better physical health? Is their God bestowing favor upon them?
It turns out there’s a very specific answer to this question. None of the above reasons were found to have any measurable effect (though the third is admittedly difficult to test). Instead, the study found that the simple act of going to church was responsible for the observed health benefits. A weekly session in which people can gather and spend time with each other, sharing in gratitude for what is good and hope for remedies to fix that which is not, renewing commitments to strive for better—that was the source of the benefit.
Reading that study, I couldn’t help but think: Well that explains it then! Take it from a cultural Mormon: Mormons do church a lot. And, crazily, the study found that I, believing none of the doctrine, got the same benefits as my friends who did.
Our generation goes to church less and less. This column is definitely not a plea to go to church more—I recognize that Mormonism made me happier, yet that isn’t reason enough for me to overlook the implausibility of the doctrine or the harm that it has caused.
Rather, I believe it’s time that our generation starts looking for a new way to create this type of community. I don’t know how this can happen—we already have a hard time getting people to church with the threat of eternal damnation looming over their heads. But it’s at least time to acknowledge it as a worthy goal.
Ellie Schaack is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Monday.
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